Christology, Soteriology, and Ethics in John and Hebrews: Collected Essays (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen Zum Neuen Testament, 478) 9783161610110, 9783161610127, 3161610113

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Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Herausgeber / Editor Jörg Frey (Zürich) Mitherausgeber / Associate Editors Markus Bockmuehl (Oxford) · James A. Kelhoffer (Uppsala) Tobias Nicklas (Regensburg) · Janet Spittler (Charlottesville, VA) J. Ross Wagner (Durham, NC)

478

William R. G. Loader

Christology, Soteriology, and Ethics in John and Hebrews Collected Essays

Mohr Siebeck

William R. G. Loader, born 1944; 1972 Dr. theol.; 1978–2005 New Testament Lecturer at the Perth Theological Hall; 1994–2010 Professor of New Testament at Murdoch University; since 2010 Professor Emeritus. orcid.org/0000-0002-7790-3676

ISBN 978-3-16-161011-0 / eISBN 978-3-16-161012-7 DOI 10.1628/978-3-16-161012-7 ISSN 0512-1604 / eISSN 2568-7476 (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen ­Testament) The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data are available at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2022 Mohr Siebeck Tübingen, Germany. www.mohrsiebeck.com This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was printed by Gulde Druck in Tübingen on non-aging paper and bound by Buchbinderei Spinner in Ottersweier. Printed in Germany.

Preface The articles collected in this volume stem from my engagement with the Gospel according to John and the Letter to the Hebrews. They reflect research interests which have accompanied me for over 50 years. For Hebrews, the field of my doctoral research, there was a hiatus of 45 years of mostly silence. By contrast, John’s gospel, in particular, its christology, remained a constant, culminating in my monograph, Jesus in John’s Gospel: Structure and Issues (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017). The papers in this volume represent my dealing with what I have perceived as key questions in the light of that research. I express my gratitude to Murdoch University, Perth, Australia, where I taught as Professor of New Testament for many years and am now Professor Emeritus. A strong research ethos and infrastructure support helped make this research possible. I also thank the Uniting Church in Australia, in which I served for over forty years in its ministerial formation programme in Western Australia. Its commitment to taking engagement with historical research seriously both enriched me and enabled me to enrich others. I have appreciated also being part of an international network of Johannine scholars, most recently in the form of the Colloquium Ioanneum conferences where a number of the papers in this volume were first presented. Invitations from the Hebrews Seminar of Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas to revisit my research beginnings in Hebrews with papers on high priesthood christology and ethics account for two of the three papers on the epistle in this volume. Since the collection brings together works published in a range of academic publishers, often with differing style guidelines, I have sought to reshape all to fit a single style, mostly following the SBL Handbook of Style, the source of reference also for common abbreviations. References to my earlier work, The Christology of the Fourth Gospel, are changed to refer to Jesus in John’s Gospel, which incorporates that earlier work in revised form. Otherwise texts remain unchanged. English translation of biblical writings normally follows the NRSV (New Revised Standard Version), unless otherwise indicated. I am grateful to Professor Jörg Frey and to Mohr Siebeck for their willingness to make this volume possible. I also acknowledge the support of Gisela, my wife, and the blessing of family life with our two children Stefanie and Christopher. That all began on one single day in 1972 when I picked up Gisela and baby, Stefanie, from the maternity hospital in Mainz and the same afternoon picked up the copies of my dissertation from the printers! William R. G. Loader, FAHA

Table of Contents Preface .........................................................................................................V Introduction ...................................................................................................1

Christology 1. The Central Structure of Johannine Christology ……………………..…17 2. Wisdom and Logos Traditions in Judaism and John’s Christology . .……49 3. John 1:51 and Johannine Christology .......... ...…………………………75 4. John 3:13–15: Re-examining the Exaltation-Glorification-Ascension Nexus in John ……………………………………………………………89 5. John 5:19–47: A Deviation from Envoy Christology .…………………111 6. What is “finished”? Revisiting Tensions in the Structure of Johannine Christology ......…………………………………………………………127

Soteriology 7. The Significance of the Prologue for Understanding John’s Soteriology ……………………………………………………………..139 8. Tensions in Matthean and Johannine Soteriology Viewed in their Jewish Context …………………………………………………………151 9. Matthew and John. Two Different Responses to a Similar Situation . .…167 10. Competing Spiritualities. Reflections on John 6 in Global Perspective . …………………………………………………….181

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11. Soteriology and Spirituality in John 6. A Reflection on Key Issues in Johannine Theology. ……………………………………………………195

Ethics 12. What Happened to “Good News for the Poor” in the Johannine Tradition? .…..……..………………..……………….…….213 13. The Significance of 2:15–17 for Understanding the Ethics of 1 John . ..225 14. The Law and Ethics in John’s Gospel . ...………………………………239 15. The Significance of 1:14–18 for Understanding John’s Approach to Law and Ethics .. ……………………………………………..……255 16. Dissent and Disparagement. Dealing with Conflict and the Pain of Rejection in the Gospel according to John …………………………263

Hebrews 17. The People of God, the Old Order, and the Old Testament in the Epistle to the Hebrews .. ………………………………..……….281 18. Revisiting High Priesthood Christology in Hebrews .. …………………291 19. Ethics in Hebrews: Faith in Danger .. …………...……..……………….337

Bibliography .. ………………………………………………………………383 List of First Publications . ………………………………………………….409 Index of Ancient Sources . …………………….……………………………411 Index of Modern Authors ………………………………………………….429 Index of Subjects .…………………………………………………………..435

Introduction The articles published in this volume reflect two important streams of my academic research. While most deal with issues relating to the fourth gospel, the latter three which focus on Hebrews reach back to the beginnings of my research interests. For in 1972 in Mainz, Germany, I completed my doctoral dissertation, on the basis of which I was awarded a Dr theol, with the title, Sohn und Hoherpriester. Eine traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zur Christologie des Hebräerbriefes. The interest in Hebrews had its beginning in my theological studies undertaken in the Trinity Methodist Theological College, Auckland, New Zealand, 1964–66. Already then, my interest was awakened in the development of christology and continued to grow in subsequent years. That interest was stimulated by the work of scholars such as Reginald Fuller, The Foundations of New Testament Christology (London: Lutterworth, 1965) and James D. G. Dunn, Unity and Diversity in the New Testament (London: SCM, 1977), but also by the penetrating insights of German scholars, Ernst Käsemann, Günther Bornkamm and Joachim Jeremias in the wake of the major contributions of Rudolf Bultmann. When encouraged during my College days to contemplate postgraduate study, I resolved to pursue that in Germany from which at that time so much leading New Testament research emanated. That I subsequently met and in 1966 married my wife, Gisela, visiting New Zealand from Germany, in that period, has, of course, elicited playful allegations that this was all part of a strategy. It was not but it was, indeed, a blessing for a scholar starting out with Germany in mind. Beyond my initial three years of theological study as part of formation for ministry and the simultaneous completion of a BA in Classics from Auckland University with Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and German, I pursued a BD from Otago University, initially during one year full time and then during the first two years of my probationary ministry, 1968–69. During these years, building on my year of doing German as part of my BA and benefitting from spousal language support, I began the uphill struggle of reading books in German, foremost among them Ferdinand Hahn’s Christologische Hoheitstitel. Ihre Geschichte im frühen Christentum, 2nd ed. (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1963), whose work I had known indirectly through Fuller’s book and also Wolfhart Pannenberg’s extensive use of it in his Jesus: God and Man (London: SCM, 1968). On a visit to New Zealand, Eduard Schweizer had recommended that I approach Ferdinand Hahn with a view to doing doctoral

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studies under his supervision in Mainz, which I duly did and arrived in Mainz in April, 1970. There are three important strands of influence which shaped my approach to this research and have shaped my approach to research ever since. Firstly, my BD studies included philosophical theology and a major part of that was linguistic analysis, in particular, the study of how language works, its surface but also its deep structures. Secondly, the excellent background given to us in pastoral studies made me aware of the importance of listening, in particular, listening not just to people’s words but to the feelings and the underlying meaning which might come to expression in diverse ways in their language, including that the presenting problem may be a long way from the real problem. This was about learning how to read. Exegetical perception and careful nonjudgemental pastoral listening were two sides of the same coin. Thirdly, through the work of the scholars mentioned above, I was struck by the variety and sometimes diversity of christological titles, motifs, and explanations in the New Testament tradition. This raised for me the question of the degree of their coherence and what, to use Dunn’s terms, was the unity amid that diversity. These were also the days when traditiohistorical approaches, looking behind the text, were met increasingly with caution and by some with a quasievangelical mission to insist that we should focus only on the text, embrace the new insights from literary studies and cease efforts to look behind the text as futile speculation. I saw no need to take sides but embraced both diachronic and synchronic approaches as compatible approaches to research and still do. Fundamentalisms and narrowly focused literary critics were strange bedfellows in the effort to find shortcuts to truth which avoided the ambiguities of history in which faith claims its foundations. It was, indeed, my faith that convinced me that academic integrity, acknowledgement of diversity and facing up to the fragility of historical scholarship was not to be feared but to be embraced.

Hebrews When, inspired by research into the development of christology at the beginnings of Christian faith, I turned to Hebrews, it was because I saw there great potential for further understanding of those developments as well as a need to investigate how it all hung together within that document as a whole. It became very clear that Hebrews uses christological motifs which have their origins in royal messianic ideology but also motifs which have a background in Wisdom christology and could comfortably juxtapose them. This is strikingly evident in its opening statements. Clearly the opening references to the “Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, through whom he also created the worlds … the reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word” (1:2–3)

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and “In the beginning, Lord, you founded the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands” (1:10, applying Ps 101:26 LXX to Jesus) reflect the Wisdom christology evident in John 1:1–3. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.

And in Col 1:15. He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers – all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

The Son is pre-existent, mediator, sustainer, and goal of creation, the image of God. Yet in the same context the author employs motifs drawn from royal messianic christology according to which Jesus is exalted to God’s right hand and given the name “Son” at his resurrection (1:3b–5). When he had made purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high, 4having become as much superior to angels as the name he has inherited is more excellent than theirs. 5 For to which of the angels did God ever say, “You are my Son; today I have begotten you”? Or again, ‘I will be his Father, and he will be my Son”?

It goes on to speak of God at that point giving birth to his firstborn, enthroning him, anointing him. And again, when he brings the firstborn into the world, he says, “Let all God’s angels worship him.” (1:6) But of the Son he says, “Your throne, O God, is for ever and ever, and the righteous sceptre is the sceptre of your kingdom. You have loved righteousness and hated wickedness; therefore God, your God, has anointed you with the oil of gladness beyond your companions.” (1:8–9, citing Ps 44:7–8 LXX).

On the other side of the citation of Ps 102 in 1:10–12 echoing Wisdom christology, it depicts royal messianic enthronement with the words of Ps 110:1, already echoed in 1:3. “But to which of the angels has he ever said, ‘Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies a footstool for your feet’?” (1:13). That enthronement christology reappears in chapter 2: “you crowned him with glory and honour, subjecting all things under his feet” (2:7b–8, citing Ps 8:7b LXX). What may appear a contradiction – about when Jesus became Son (in preexistence from the beginning or since his resurrection/exaltation) – is for the author no contradiction at all but simply the unity of two diverse streams of thought flowing into his depiction of Jesus’ superiority over the powers, both before and after earthly life. Both the synchronic and the diachronic

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perspectives are worth pursuing: the synchronic, how the author integrates his diverse traditions and the diachronic, how we can recognise christological development through two diverse streams of thought. Indeed, we see a similar phenomenon in the so-called Colossian hymn in Col 1:15–20, where, again, Wisdom and royal traditions are juxtaposed, and earlier already in the opening verses of Romans where Paul can similarly speak of God’s “Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh and was declared to be [appointed ੒ȡȚıș੼ȞIJȠȢ] Son of God with power according to the spirit of holiness by resurrection from the dead” (1:4). My pursuit of the tradition linked with Psalm 110:1 led me to the realisation that it formed indeed part of an association of ideas, to which belonged usually the title, “Christ”, reference to death and resurrection, followed by allusions to Ps 110:1 and Ps 8:7b, and reference to superiority over powers/angels. It was to be found in 1 Cor 15:20–28; Rom 8:34–39; Eph 1:20–23; 2:5–6; Col 2:10, 15; and 1 Pet 3:18–22, and behind Hebrews 1–2. What formed a chapter in the dissertation I expanded to become a fuller discussion in my article, “Christ at the Right Hand – Ps. cx.1 in the New Testament,” New Testament Studies 24 (1978/79): 199–217. This was just the beginning because two further pursuits followed: how did the author relate what he said in his opening statements to what followed in the letter, especially in relation to his distinctive development of a high priest christology, and what streams of tradition underly it? I sought thereby to sense not only what the author was saying but why. It clearly mattered to the author to emphasise Christ’s elevation above the angels – just a flight of speculative adulation? More probably, because he sensed hearers had some fears about powers. What mattered for the author is clearer in the first use of the high priest motif in 2:17–18, which the author brings in a way that foreshadows later developments in his letter: Therefore he had to become like his brothers and sisters in every respect, so that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make a sacrifice of atonement for the sins of the people. Because he himself was tempted through what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tempted.

Here we begin to see how the author seeks to relate what he and his hearers confessed about Jesus to their current situation. To summarise, the author employs the allusion to Psalm 8:7b LXX, which belonged to his royal messianic stream of christological tradition, to relate what it says of Christ’s present elevation to Christ’s earthly existence and to draw out the implications. Accordingly, he cites Psalm 8:7b LXX directly and expands the citation to include also Psalm 8:5–6 LXX, exploiting the possibility of a temporal sense of the words ȕȡĮȤ઄ IJȚ (a little while) to apply them to Jesus’ earthly life: “You made him for a little while lower than the angels” (citing Psalm 8:6). This makes it likely that ਙȞșȡȦʌȠȢ and ȣੂઁȢ

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ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ reflect awareness of christological use of “Son of Man”. The author then expounds the text: Now we do not yet see everything subjected to him, but we see Jesus having been made a little lower than the angels for a short time through the suffering of death crowned with glory and honour that by God’s generosity he might taste death for everyone. (2:7–9)

Already in chapter 2 we see beside the reference to the Son’s exaltation two further key elements whose significance for his hearers the author will proceed to expound: Jesus’ saving death and Jesus’ earthly life in which he was confronted with suffering and temptation. The second of these is the first to receive elaborate attention. Thus, the author proceeds to assure his hearers that in order to achieve their salvation and bring them to glory the Son entered their experience of being flesh and blood (2:10–15). In doing so he experienced suffering and faced the temptation to give up and did not and so. As a result, he can intercede for them when they face similar dangers. He has been on that path before them. For this reassurance the author uses the high priest motif, depicting Jesus as a sympathetic and compassionate high priest who can intercede, as high priests did, for people (2:17–18; 4:14–16; 5:1–10; 7:25). The theme of the Son as high priest interceding for his own before God’s throne is the primary focus of the author’s exposition from chapter 2 to chapter 8. The author uses not only Psalm 8 beyond the traditional use of 8:7b but also Psalm 110 beyond Psalm 110:1 to expound his message. Thus, he cites also Ps 110:4 (“You are a priest forever according to the order of Melchisedek”). Alongside the positive intent to offer assurance to his hearers that they have such a heavenly high priest in the heavenly sanctuary interceding for them, there is another agenda which the motif of high priest serves, namely to indicate that this situation is better than what pertained in the earthly cultic context where high priests were limited by their human failings and mortality, rendering them, the author alleges, ineffective in enabling people to relate to God. By contrast, Jesus is of a different nature, being the divine Son. He finds in Psalm 110:4 reference to a different order of being in relation to Melchisedek, whether or not the author believed that figure was angelic, thus a heavenly being comparable to that of the Son (ਕijȦȝȠȚȦȝ੼ȞȠȢ į੻ IJ૶ ȣੂ૶ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨), such as we find reflected in 11QMelch or, I think less likely, was employing it purely as an image. In examining this development from a diachronic perspective I noted that the notion that Christ intercedes for his own is already present in association with the Ps 110:1 connection in Rom 8:34 without any mention of a priestly role and that Rev 1:13 depicts the exalted in high priestly garb but without reference to an intercessory role. The author of Hebrews is emphasising the role of Jesus as interceding for help for those who were going through suffering

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and tempted to give up. It was important not to read into that role the image of Jesus as advocate for forgiveness of sins as in 1 John 2:1–2. Whether the author, himself, developed this aspect of the role of Jesus as heavenly high priest interceding for his own or it came from tradition is unclear. Supporting the latter may be the fact that he depicts Jesus as appointed to be high priest at his exaltation reflected in his understanding of Psalm 110:4 (5:5–10). The fact that he will go on to depict Jesus as coming to earth already as high priest to effect atonement (10:5) means that, as with saying about Jesus as Son, we would correspondingly have two streams of thought coming together in Hebrews: a royal messianic christological tradition which speaks of Jesus appointed Son of God/Messiah and high priest at his exaltation and another development which depicts him, like sonship in the Wisdom tradition, as high priest from the beginning or at least from his incarnation. Clearly the author expands the notion of Jesus’ high priesthood in chapters 9 and 10 where he uses it to expound the tradition of Jesus’ death as salvific, noted already in 2:9, 14–15, 17 and in the opening statement 1:3. Working selectively with the Atonement Day ritual, reducing the focus to one sacrifice and one entry, the author depicts Jesus as offering himself as a sacrifice and then, post mortem, entering the heavenly Holiest Place to sprinkle his blood before God (9:11–12). The article on Jesus as high priest in this volume discusses in detail the various ways in which exegetes have read Hebrews in this regard. The view I put forward and defend is that while the author employs Atonement Day typology it is a misunderstanding to see him relocating the act of salvation from Jesus’ death, seen as no more than one of the preparatory sacrifices on Atonement Day, to the heavenly sprinkling because the act of sprinkling achieved atonement in that ritual. On the contrary, I have argued that the tradition of Jesus’ death as atoning was so strong and reflected elsewhere in the letter (e.g., 2:9, 14–15) that the author would more likely have understood the sprinkling as the presentation before God of the completed work. I, therefore, give the aorist participle İਫ਼ȡ੺ȝİȞȠȢ in 9:12 its temporal weight, so that we should read it as saying, But when Christ came as a high priest of the good things that have come, then through the greater and perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation), he entered once for all into the Holy Place, not with the blood of goats and calves, but with his own blood, having obtained eternal redemption (ĮੁȦȞ઀ĮȞ Ȝ઄IJȡȦıȚȞ İਫ਼ȡ੺ȝİȞȠȢ). (9:11–12)

The expansion of what had been a motif associated with Jesus’ role as the exalted one, connected with Ps 110, to apply now to Jesus as the high priest who took on human flesh in order to offer himself as a redeeming sacrifice is, I argued, the creative work of the author. The author has accordingly drawn on traditions, still discernible in their distinctiveness and diversity, and creatively woven them into a presentation of Jesus designed to assure his hearers that Jesus is above all powers, knows their plight and prays for them, having been on the road before them, has effected atonement and so guaranteed their path

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to glory and so has done all this in a way that both fulfils the old, we must assume, that many of them knew and now appropriately sets it aside. The paper in this volume on the old and new explores this relationship in more detail, while the final paper in addressing the ethical values in Hebrews reflects also on ethical issues raised by the author’s dealing with continuity and discontinuity. My Mainz dissertation, trimmed and ready for print in 1973 with the same title and slightly cut down content, finally saw publication in 1981 as: Sohn und Hoherpriester. Eine traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zur Christologie des Hebräerbriefes, WMANT 53 (Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 1981).

John The years after my return to congregational ministry in New Zealand, 1973–78 and then my move in 1978 to a full time teaching position as Lecturer in New Testament at the Perth Theological Hall of the Uniting Church in Australia to 1981, were not an inactive hiatus. If it was possible to subject Hebrews to such a tradition-historical analysis, why not the Gospel According to John? Thus, began my explorations of the fourth gospel, initially through spare moments made possible amid the busy tasks of ministry and part-time teaching at the Anglican College of St John the Evangelist with which Trinity College had in the interim partnered. I presented a paper with my initial findings in 1977, subsequently published as “The Central Structure of Johannine Christology,” in Religious Studies in the Pacific, ed. John Hinchcliff, Jack Lewis, and Kapil Tiwari (Auckland: Colloquium Publishers, 1978), 87–95. I carried over this research to my new position in Perth where I found strong encouragement from colleagues and an employment contract which fortunately emphasised research as well as teaching. By the time I reached my first sabbatical semester in 1982, I had made significant progress. Part of that was the realisation that my first priority needed to be to analyse the text as it stands, in that sense, a synchronic approach. Only then would it be possible to engage in a tradition-historical investigation. Indeed, this was the best way to begin such an investigation anyway. I spent nearly eight months with my young family in Munich, from September, 1982 to April, 1983, as guest of the Protestant faculty, where Ferdinand Hahn was now Professor of New Testament. Computers were soon to change our lives forever, but I was still in the previous age. My challenge was to find ways of identifying the deeper structures of the fourth gospel. Was it possible to find a common story which lay beneath the various manifestations in the text? It had already struck me that some motifs occurred frequently, and I had noted these in my 1977 paper. These included references to sending, whether as the Father sending the Son or the Son as the sent one, similarly, the

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language of Father-Son, references to coming and returning and the many variations on a theme of Jesus telling what he had seen and heard. There was a common story beneath these expressions and they frequently occurred together. There was more detailed work to be done. Accordingly, in those pre-computer times, I set about extracting these very common motifs, writing them out in Greek into long lists, to build a comprehensive database – lots of paper! On the basis of such frequently occurring and connected motifs I sought to reconstruct the logic or story which underlay and connected them. This was an attempt not at precise formulation but at recovering the underlying structure which surfaced in the text. I called it the central structure of Johannine christology. There was also a way of subjecting the reconstruction to a reality check by identifying passages in the text where the author or usually Jesus, his main character, gave brief summaries of the message, what was to be known and believed. Such passages include: Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God. (13:3) So Jesus said, “When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will realize that I am he, and that I do nothing on my own, but I speak these things as the Father instructed me. 29 And the one who sent me is with me; he has not left me alone, for I always do what is pleasing to him.” (8:28–29) Then Jesus cried out as he was teaching in the temple, “You know me, and you know where I am from. I have not come on my own. But the one who sent me is true, and you do not know him. 29 I know him, because I am from him, and he sent me.” (7:28–29) The Father himself loves you, because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God. 28 I came from the Father and have come into the world; again, I am leaving the world and am going to the Father. (16:27–28) “Now they know that everything you have given me is from you; 8for the words that you gave to me I have given to them, and they have received them and know in truth that I came from you; and they have believed that you sent me.” (17:7–8)

In geological terms, this is a little like having an ore body which occasionally breaks the surface revealing what lies beneath. Clearly, we are seeing here what the author portrays as the main message. A further check was to examine longer passages located at points where the author was intent on summing up the significance of what went before, such as at the end of John 3, in 3:31–36, the end of John 12 in 12:44–50, and in 8:12–19. On the basis of such observations it seemed to me that the underlying structure at least included the following: references to God and Jesus as Father and Son; the motif of sending: the Father authorised and sent the Son; that the Son came and returned to the Father; and that the commission of the Son to make the Father known or, in many variations, to tell what he had seen and heard from the Father.

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I have returned frequently to revisit the database and to re-examine and refine these findings, most recently in Jesus in John’s Gospel: Structure and Issues in Johannine Christology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017), 41–71, a revision and major expansion of my earlier book, The Christology of the Fourth Gospel. Structure and Issues, 2nd ed., BBET 23 (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1992, 1st ed., 1989). The first chapter of this volume, “The Central Structure of Johannine Christology,” New Testament Studies 30 (1984): 188–216, is the initial fruit of this more detailed research, building on the 1977 conference paper and foundational for what followed in my work on John. My assessment is that it remains just as pertinent today as it was then. In that work I drew attention also to an association of motifs frequently occurring together which dealt with the climax of Jesus’ life and which had a distinctive vocabulary different from the structure identified above. This cluster of motifs comprised the following motifs: the title “Son of man”; being lifted up/exalted, used in an ironic twofold sense to refer to crucifixion and to exaltation to glory; glorification; ascending (and descending – rather than coming and going/returning); and sometimes the motif of judgement associated with “Son of Man”. I explore this cluster further in chapters 3 and 4 of this volume: “John 1:51 and Johannine Christology” and “John 3:13–15: Reexamining the Exaltation-Glorification-Ascension Nexus in John.” I saw no need to seek to harmonise the elements of the cluster with the structure identified above. They formed a distinctive association of motifs and doubtlessly had a background in the author’s tradition. They were one of the main ways in which the author interpreted the climax of Jesus’ life. They, too, therefore belong to the underlying structure of his thought. I have argued, indeed, that the last discourses show some closer merging of the Son-Father structure and the Son of Man cluster, so that motifs of glorification with the same meaning in the cluster now occur on the lips of the Son addressing the Father in John 17 (e.g., 17:1–5). The author then employs the motif of the Son’s return to glory as the basis for his doing his own sending, namely the sending of the disciples and the sending of Spirit to enable them to fulfil that mission. In earlier chapters the Son of Man cluster breaks the surface more distinctively, such as in 1:51; 3:13–15; 12:23, 34; 13:31–32. Putting both together and seeking to retain the integrity of the author’s language, I sought to formulate the underlying structure of the author’s christology. The focus was substance, not precise formulation, since the structure finds various expression on the surface of the text, sometimes a string on intact elements, sometimes by allusion, and as noted above, significantly in summaries which the author gives or places on the lips of Jesus and in key passages where an attempt is made to set out what the author sees as the key elements of his message about Jesus. Accordingly, I put together the following as representing the underlying deep structure beneath the author’s text

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Introduction The Father sends and authorises the Son, who knows the Father, comes from the Father, makes the Father known, brings light and life and truth, completes his Father’s work, returns to the Father, exalted, glorified, ascended, sends the disciples and sends the Spirit to enable greater understanding, to equip for mission, and to build up the community of faith.

Many statements could be expanded. For instance, “authorises the Son” reflects the notion of the Father giving all things into the Son’s hands (3:35; 13:3); “knows the Father,” “makes the Father known,” and “brings light and life and truth” bundle together the various references to hearing, seeing, being told, and telling, reporting, doing, and to the images of “light, life and truth” one could add much more: bread, water, etc. This fuller reconstruction of the central structure of Johannine christology has been widely recognised. It has formed the basis for my own research and underlies the chapters in this volume dealing with the gospel. It has, in turn, both informed detailed exegesis and raised key issues. One of these relates to the way in which the author uses the envoy revealer motif. Clearly the message is that the Son makes the Father known, but that in itself is ambiguous. The “story” tells of the Son coming as the divine envoy with the authority usually associated with that role in their world, where, without telecommunication as we know it, the envoy had to be authorised to act on the sender’s behalf. It was inevitable, therefore, that people framed the story as one of revelation with the Son as the revealer. It is very clear, however, that despite language belonging to the depiction of an envoy, telling what he has seen and heard, the Son is not a bearer of information, so that we must conclude that the author is using the envoy motif to that extent metaphorically. The Son is the envoy in the sense of operating on God’s behalf but, even then, despite the notions of leaving and returning to the Father, the author can also speak of direct relationship between Son and Father during his ministry. I address this in chapter 5: “John 5:19–47: A Deviation from Envoy Christology.” The offering which the Son brings is “light and life and truth,” or more simply “eternal life”. The way to receive that life is to believe in the Son. This life and this belief point to a soteriology of life in relationship, which the author then expounds as being “in” the Son and ultimately being “in” God. To enter into an open trusting relationship with the Son is to enter into such a

Introduction

11

relationship with God and that new quality of life can be depicted as drinking living water, feeding on living bread, entering upon the way, knowing the truth which sets one free, being raised from death to life, and walking in the light. My more intensive engagement with Jewish literature over the years has helped me realise that the soteriological logic of John’s gospel reflects how many Jews viewed Torah, using such imagery. Indeed, Torah offers the water of life, the bread, the light and life. The author is writing in a context where what was once said of Torah has been transferred to Jesus. Already the prologue is indicative of transferring what was said of Torah, identifying it with Wisdom, to the Son. He, alone, is the Logos, the Word. That transfer is evidence with the other motifs. In effect, then, the author presents Jesus as offering a relationship with God, the only way to share eternal life. The author makes it very clear that Jesus offered such eternal life in his offer of a personal relationship with himself and so with God to be entered through trust and did so when he came, in other words, during his earthly ministry, and since his exaltation with himself through the Spirit at work in the mission of the disciples. Sometimes that future offering is in focus within the frame of reference of the text, when, for instance, in allusion to what would become the eucharist, it has Jesus speak of the gift of life which the exalted Son of Man would offer. A naive reading based on working within the framework of Paul’s soteriology encounters problems, which sometimes lead to very strange solutions. For if one assumes that eternal life could be offered only after Jesus’ saving death, then all references to Jesus offering eternal life during his earthly ministry would have to be explained away, usually by suggesting they are proleptic. The author does sometimes speak with the voice of the early church and have Jesus do so, e.g., 3:11. The denial, however, that the Son could offer life before the climax of his life, runs contrary to the way the author employs the basic structure of his christology. He is, in his person, light and life and truth, already during his earthly ministry. “It is finished” (19:30) is a reference not to Jesus’ salvific act on offering himself as a sacrifice for sins on the cross, but the indication, as in 17:1–5, that he has finished the commission the Father had given him to do from beginning to end (similarly “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work” 4:34). Chapter 6, “What is ‘finished’? Revisiting Tensions in the Structure of Johannine Christology,” addresses this issue. Those who prefer tidy solutions may then embrace the opposite extreme of denying any significance to the climax of Jesus’ life other than seeing it as his point of departure back to glory. The text will not be so easily smoothed. While there is an ore body constantly breaking the surface and an odd cluster which also appears, we need to recognise that these, though the major bodies, are not alone. While some seek to read with Pauline eyes and see soteriology in every mention of his death, I see no reason to doubt that there are such references,

12

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even though at times ambiguous. For instance, when the author has Jesus declare that as the good shepherd he lays down his life for his sheep, he explains its purpose in different terms: he lays it down in order that he may take it again (10:11, 14, 17). Similarly ambiguous are the references to his laying down his life for his friends (15:13), something the author notes using the same language that Peter was not willing to do (13:37). Even being the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world (1:29), often seen as a reference to sacrifice, may refer to the role of Lamb Messiah who is to remove sins from the world. The high priest’s strategy of expediency that it was better to have Jesus executed than face the wrath of the Romans, let him die for us (11:49–50), is not dying for sins, though with John’s use of double meaning we cannot be sure. Even the allusion, as I take it, to the eucharist in 6:51–58, is not entirely clear, though given the eucharistic tradition, I think an allusion to Jesus’ death as vicarious is likely. On balance, I think that the author was aware of the tradition of Jesus’ dying vicariously for sins and sinners. It is not to be explained away. Nor is it reason to explain away all references to eternal life (implying forgiveness) being available already during his ministry. There is good precedent for authors saying both, such as Mark reporting Jesus declaring God’s forgiveness and John the baptizer before him (1:4), while also having Jesus declare that he was to give his life a ransom for many (10:45). Matthew, I argue, is similar. His transfer of “for the forgiveness of sins” to the last meal narrative (26:28) does not imply that he means us to think that when people confessed their sins at John the Baptist’s invitation and submitted to baptism (3:6), there was no forgiveness attached! Judaism could similarly hail the death of martyrs as vicarious, but nowhere therefore sought a tidy solution which would have to rule out prayer or sacrifice. The main ore body on John’s landscape is the story as outlined above, sometimes merged with the Son of Man cluster, sometimes as separate outcrops. I see no need to relegate notions of Jesus’ vicarious death to insignificance in John. They were there, though not the major focus, just as, less ambiguously, was the notion of Jesus’ death as judgement and condemnation of the ruler of this world (12:31; 16:11). The section on soteriology in this volume contains discussion of various aspects touched on above. These include in chapter 7 the importance of John’s opening statements, “The Significance of the Prologue for Understanding John’s Soteriology.” Both chapter 8, “Tensions in Matthean and Johannine Soteriology Viewed in Their Jewish Context,” and chapter 9, “Matthew and John: Two Different Responses to a Similar Situation,” deal comparatively with different aspects of John and Matthew. Chapters 10, “Competing Spiritualities: Reflections on John 6 in Global Perspective,” and 11, “Soteriology and Spirituality in John 6: A Reflection on Key Issues in

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Johannine Theology,” take John 6 as a starting point to address different aspects of spirituality, its universal appeal and its contentiousness. When I contemplate the beginnings of my research on John and re-read the article which forms the first chapter of this volume, I am aware that there is work still to be done, particularly in investigating the traditiohistorical background to John’s christology. I have made some attempts, especially in relation to Wisdom and Torah ideology, but there is more to be said, especially in relation to the Son of Man cluster and the sonship motif generally. As with Hebrews, my interest has extended beyond christology and soteriology to ethics and the context of the author. This reflects my engagement with the diverse attitudes towards Torah both within Judaism and within the New Testament writings, more especially the gospels, as in my work Jesus’ Attitude towards the Law. A Study of the Gospels, WUNT 2.97 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997), where I discuss the way the authors portray Jesus’ attitude. Issues of poverty also became the focus of my attention in relation both to the gospel, itself, which seems at first to have nothing to say and to the first Letter of John. I discuss these in chapter 12, “What Happened to ‘Good News for the Poor’ in the Johannine Tradition?” and in relation to 1 John in chapter 13, “The Significance of 2:15–17 for Understanding the Ethics of 1 John.” Chapter 14, “The Law and Ethics in John’s Gospel” and chapter 15, “The Significance of 1:14–18 for Understanding John’s Approach to Law and Ethics,” deal more broadly with ethics, the latter in particular with the hermeneutical issue of the status of Torah in John. The broader issues of the context of the author of John’s Gospel remain a concern. Terms like “the Jews” and “Your Law” reflect alienation, matching the way the author (or/and his tradition before him) has usurped divine epithets of Torah and transferred them to Jesus. Whether John is anti-Jewish would depend on one’s perspective. I think the answer from most Jews of the time would be unambiguous: yes, he is anti-Jewish in the sense of having abandoned the faith of what were probably his forebears both in what he now affirms about Jesus which reads like blasphemy and what he denies about Torah. I read the author’s persistence in justifying Jesus on the basis of that faith tradition as indicative that it mattered to him and, we assume he thinks, to his hearers. He knew the accusations and was hardly making them up when he depicted them and projected onto his accusers’ gross hostility. I see no evidence of any formally forced separation from the synagogue, such as some have speculated on the basis of the later curse of minim, but the kind of disagreement in substance was enough to cause profound alienation, whether formal or informal, and resultant hurt and anger. Why try to make the case that this new faith in Jesus is not new but fulfils what God had all along planned, if the old faith had meant nothing? Claims of discontinuity become claims of continuity, which the opponents deem as fiction and the author (and presumably his hearers) embrace as divine intent.

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The level of hostility and ad hominem invective is hardly exemplary and the rationalisation of the new by demoting the old to be only a foreshadowing witness to the new (and also demoting John the Baptist to just a witness not offering a baptism for the remission of sins) fails to do adequate justice to the faith of old. The result is a document rich in universal images of God, which both sides of the dispute would embrace, sometimes shining with the light of love, sometimes shimmering with pain and anger. The final chapter in the section on John, “Dissent and Disparagement: Dealing with Conflict and the Pain of Rejection in the Gospel According to John,” seeks to explore the author’s work in this regard as part of the process of his and presumably his hearers’ dealing with the grief and anger of rejection and rationalising their new separate identity.

Christology

1. The Central Structure of Johannine Christology Where does the gospel of John fit into the picture of early Christianity? The present paper is an attempt to make a contribution towards the solution of this puzzle by focussing on the author’s christology. It attempts a delineation of the central structure, then goes on to investigate its relationship with major clusters of Johannine christological tradition.

The Quest for the Central Structure The christology of the fourth gospel has been subjected by many to extensive systematic analysis.1 Much attention has been given to individual motifs and their traditiohistorical background. But, whatever may be traced of the origins of individual motifs and however keenly the christological material of the gospel is systematised and ordered, the major question of the place of Johannine christology within the world of its time, Christian or pagan, and of its contribution to Christian thought about Jesus, will depend very much for an answer on what is perceived as the central structure of Johannine christology. What is it that integrates all the various motifs in Johannine christology? The Criteria In pursuing this quest, we shall employ the following criteria: (i) What sayings and motifs occur frequently throughout the gospel? Compare the Logos motif which appears only in chapter 1. 1 For a review of recent research see Robert Kysar, The Fourth Evangelist and His Gospel (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1975), 178–206; Hartwig Thyen, “Aus der Literatur zum Johannesevangelium,” ThR 39 (1974), 1–69, 222–52, 289–330, esp. 53–69, 222–52; 42 (1977), 210–70; 43 (1978), 328–59. Apart from the major commentaries (Bultmann, Schnackenburg, Brown, Lindars, Morris, Schulz, Barrett) I would mention especially Josef Blank, Krisis. Untersuchungen zur johanneischen Christologie und Eschatologie (Freiburg: Lambertus, 1964); J. Terence Forestell, The Word of the Cross, AnBib 57 (Rome: BIP, 1974); Ernst Käsemann, The Testament of Jesus (London; SCM, 1968); Francis J. Moloney, The Johannine Son of Man, 2nd ed., BSR 14 (Rome: Las, 1978); Ulrich B. Müller, Die Geschichte der Christologie der johanneischen Gemeinde, SBS 77 (Stuttgart: KBW, 1975); Jan A. Bühner, Der Gesandte und sein Weg im 4. Evangelium, WUNT 2.2 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1977); Juan Peter Miranda, Die Sendung Jesus im vierten Evangelium, SBS 87 (Stuttgart: KBW, 1977).

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(ii) What groups of motifs frequently occur together in a certain pattern or structure? (iii) Which of these recurring motifs or structured groups of motifs are made the subject of attention and development especially in the discourses of Jesus about himself? (iv) In clearly identifiable summaries what does the author focus upon as central? (v) Should it be possible to postulate a central structure of christological thought, it should then be possible to demonstrate how this integrates all other motifs in the gospel. (vi) The author’s use of sources might confirm or deny any such hypothesis, but source theories remain themselves very uncertain. Suggested Starting Points Where should one begin? If we are not simply to collect christological motifs and order them systematically, we shall need to look for some direct indication within the gospel of this central structure. One might point to John 20:31: “that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God,” 2 but that is too much of a summary and raises the question about the meaning of “Son of God”. Others have seen the key in the prologue. But, while it may be true that the central features of Johannine thought are introduced in the prologue, the use of the motif “Logos”, which is so strongly dominant, is limited strictly to the prologue.3 Käsemann bases his study of Johannine christology on a consideration of John 17, which, he writes, “is a summary of the Johannine discourses and in this respect is a counterpart to the prologue.” 4 But he is more concerned to analyse certain themes in relationship to the historical situation.

2

So e.g., Floyd V. Filson, “The Gospel of Life,” in Current Issues in New Testament Interpretation. Otto Piper Festschrift, ed. W. Klaasen and G. F. Snyder (New York: Harper, 1962), 111–23, 111; Raymond E. Brown, “The Kerygma of the Gospel According to John,” in New Testament Issues, ed. R. Batey (London: SCM, 1970), 210–25, 210–11. 3 So e.g., T. Evan Pollard, Johannine Christology and the Early Church, SNTSMS 13 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), 6–7, 13. This is not to deny the significance of the Prologue for understanding the whole. So Peter von den Osten-Sacken, “Leistung und Grenze der johanneischen Kreuzestheologie,” EvT 7 (1975): 154–76, 158–61, who writes: “Der johanneische Jesus ist wesentlich ein Redender” (p. 159). Similarly, Morna D. Hooker, “John’s Prologue and the Messianic Secret,” NTS 21 (1974/75): 40–58, 43–46. 4 Käsemann, Testament of Jesus, 3.

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Starting Point: 3:31–36 I want to take 3:31–36 as my starting point.5 It follows as a reflective summary6 at the end of chapter 3, which serves as the first discourse chapter. We note the following motifs: (a) 3:31 Jesus comes (from above) and speaks (of the Father) “He who comes from above is above all; he who is of the earth belongs to the earth, and of the earth he speaks; he who comes from heaven is above all” (3:31). Jesus is the one who comes from above. The contrast is not between Jesus and John the Baptist, for John is hardly speaking “of the earth,” when he bears witness to Jesus as the Christ (3:28–30).7 Far more likely is that the contrast is with “the Jews” represented by their teacher Nicodemus, who cannot see beyond earthly birth,8 and with those disputing about purification (3:25). Reflecting on the inadequate teacher who needed to be born from above before he could see (3:3) and who could hear only the sound of the wind (3:8), the evangelist portrays Jesus in 3:31 as the true teacher and revealer, who has indeed “come from God” but in a sense far more profound than Nicodemus’ words could comprehend (3:2). The description of Jesus as the one who has come from above, from heaven from the Father, is repeated frequently throughout the gospel.9 Even more frequent is the stereotype designation of Jesus as “the one who has come,” where no mention is made of origin.10 The motif is also frequently the focus of discussion. This is particularly clear in chapter 6, where the contrast with the manna turns on the fact that Jesus is the true bread come down from heaven, but also in other major discourses, where it assumes central significance. 11 The centrality of the motif is confirmed in such summary statements as 13:3, where Jesus’ thoughts on the eve his departure are given as his “knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and

5

Cf. Rudolf Schnackenburg, The Gospel According to St. John. Vol. 1 (London: Burns and Oates, 1968), who holds 3:31–36 and 3:13–21 to be an independent piece composed on the basis of the Nicodemus dialogue and presenting “a condensation of the principal assertions of John and the Johannine theology” (p. 380). Similarly, Blank, Krisis, 53–56. 6 So e.g., C. H. Dodd, The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968), 309; Moloney, Son of Man, 42–44. 7 Against Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John, 2 Vols. (London: Chapman, 1971), 159; Leon Morris, The Gospel According to John (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1971), 244. 8 So Schnackenburg, John, 382–83. 9 E.g., 3:13; 6:33, 38, 41, 42, 50, 51, 58; 7:28; 8:14, 42; 13:3. 10 E.g., 1:9, 11; 3:19; 5:24, 43; 10:10; 12:13, 27, 46, 47; 15:22; 16:28; 18:37; cf. 6:14; 4:25; 7:27, 31; 11:27. 11 Cf. 7:27–29; 8:14–30, 42–47.

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was going to God.” Immediately linked with Jesus’ coming down in John is the thought of his return to the Father (the “whither” and the “whence” of the wind simile), as 13:3, just mentioned, illustrates (cf. 3:13; 8:14). Reference to Jesus’ returning to the Father occurs equally frequently in the gospel, particularly nearer the time of the death of Jesus and in his discussions with his disciples.12 It becomes a special subject of inquiry amongst the disciples, where Jesus was going, in a way that reminds us of the failure of “the Jews” to comprehend Jesus’ statements about “going”.13 (b) 3:32, 34 The Son makes the Father known “He bears witness to what he has seen and heard” (3:32a; cf. 3:11). Already 3:31 assumes the motif of revelation. This introduces us to another group of sayings which are central to Johannine christology. Jesus bears witness, declares, does, in accordance with what he has seen, heard, knows, received as teaching or commandment. The combinations vary, but the thought recurs frequently throughout the gospel.14 Already 3:34 offers another variant: “He whom God has sent speaks the words of God.” Closely related to this is the phenomenon of “indwelling”: “The words I say to you I do not speak on my own authority; but the Father who dwells within me does his works” (14:10; cf. 10:37–38). 15 Sometimes the appropriate substantive is used: “His voice you have never heard; his form you have never seen” (5:37; cf. the wind simile: 3:8). This is the negative form of saying that the Son has seen the Father (1:18; 6:46) and that therefore to have seen the Son is to have seen the Father (14:7–11). Sometimes the revelation formula speaks of giving what has been given (17:8, 14) or of doing the Father’s works (5:19– 24, 38; 6:38–40; 12:48–50). Through all the variants runs the same basic pattern of revelation. 16 It is firmly established in christological summaries and 12 E.g., 6:62; 7:33, 35; 8:14, 21, 22; 13:33, 36; 14:2, 4, 5, 12, 28; 16:5, 7, 10, 17, 28; 17:11, 13; 20:17. 13 13:33, 36; 14:4–6; 16:5; cf. 6:21–22; 7:32–36. 14 Typical are the following: “I declare to the world what I have heard from him” (8:26); “I speak what I have seen with my Father” (8:38); “All that 1 have heard from the Father I have made known to you” (15:15); “The Father who sent me has himself given me a commandment about what to say and what to speak” (12:49; cf. 12:50). 15 This variation of the model differs in that it stresses present relationship as the basis of the work and words of the revealer, rather than the notion that the revealer has been sent to tell what he has heard. Cf. 5:30, where the Son speaks what he hears (present tense). 16 This is not to deny that, within this common pattern of revelation, elements interplay which may be of diverse origin (e.g., witness, work, seeing, hearing, indwelling etc.). But our primary concern is to establish the basic pattern as used by the evangelist. Cf. von den Osten-Sacken, “Leistung,” who speaks of “einer kaum mehr zu übertreffenden Monotonie” with which the evangelist stresses the unity of the Son with the Father and the revelation of God in Jesus (p. 162). A detailed analysis of these variants is found in Forestell, Word of the

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reaches its climax on the cross with the words: “It is finished!” (19:30; cf. 17:4!). (c) 3:34 The Father sent the Son “He whom God has sent” (3:34). On the lips of Jesus “he who sent me” has almost become a formal designation of God.17 Here lies the ground of Jesus’ authority, as he constantly argues in the discourses. 18 The motif of the Father sending the Son also features prominently in summary statements. Thus at the raising of Lazarus Jesus longs that the crowd may know that the Father has sent him (11:42) and in the so called high priestly prayer Jesus gives thanks: “they have believed that you have sent me” (17:8; cf. 17:21, 23, 25). Jesus is supremely “the one whom the Father sent” (10:36; 17:3; 3:34). (d) 3:35 The Father has given all things into the Son’s hands “The Father . . . has given all things into his hands” (3:35). The same formulation occurs with slight variation in the summary statement at the beginning of chapter 13: “Jesus knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God” (13:3). Here, too, it is linked with the coming of the Son from the Father. In 3:31–36 “being given all things by the Father” is linked to being given the Spirit without measure, which both picks up the pre-eminent qualification of the revealer as one born from above by the Spirit, referred to in the Nicodemus discussion dialogue (3:2–8), and echoes the words of John the Baptist in 3:27, that “no one can receive anything except what is given him from heaven,” which in turn recalls John’s witness to the descent of the Spirit upon Jesus (1:33). Thus, Jesus is especially qualified to be teacher and revealer but also qualified to be the one around whom future life or future wrath revolves, as the following verse 36 suggests. We note the same link between the Father giving authority and power to judge in chapter 5, where it becomes the central theme (esp. 5:22– 23). The motif of the Father giving all things or giving authority to the Son is central in the author’s thought (cf. also 17:2), for whom no one can do anything unless it is given or granted him by God, whether it be Jesus, one who would come to Jesus (6:65), or even Pilate (19:11).

Cross, 17–57. See also Rudolf Schnackenburg, Das Johannesevangelium. 2. Teil, 2nd ed., HTKNT 4.2. (Freiburg: Herder, 1977), 152–57. 17 On this see the excellent studies by Bühner and Miranda (n. 1 above). See also Miranda’s earlier work which his second study modifies: “Der Vater, der mich gesandt hat,” EHS 23.7, 2nd ed. (Frankfurt: Lang, 1976). I have not had access to this work. 18 E.g., 5:30–38;7:16–18; 8:16–20; 12:45–50.

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(e) 3:35 “The Father” and “the Son” 3:35a is the only verse in the summary 3:31–36 to mention the designations “Father” and “Son” together: “The Father loves the Son.” It is hardly necessary to validate in detail the observation that “Father” and “Son” are the most used designations in Johannine christology. (f) Remaining statements of 3:31–36 Of the statements in 3:31–36 to which we have not given attention, 3:32–33, that no one receives the witness of the Son, is a frequent comment linked to the christological function of the Son as revealer.19 The motif that God is true is reflected elsewhere in the form that Jesus reveals the truth (e.g. 5:31–32; 8:13– 14, 26), while the sealing image occurs only here (but christologically: 6:27). That Jesus is “above all”, the only other strictly christological statement, occurs only here but expresses an eminence which the author usually develops in other terms. The Central Structure Thus within 3:31–36 we have access to the following christological motifs, which occur with significant frequency, are the focus of special discourse, and feature as summaries within the gospel. (i) The Reference to Jesus and God as Son and Father. (ii) That the Son comes from and returns to the Father. (iii) That the Father has sent the Son. (iv) That the Father has given all things into the Son’s hands. (v) That the Son says and does what the Father has told him (existing in many variants). He makes the Father known. Each of these statements is of central significance for the author’s christology. Even more important: these not only occur together in this passage, and have been the basic idea running through the Nicodemus dialogue; they also occur together as a structure at various points within the gospel, are as a structure the focus of special attention, and do as a structure occur in editorial summaries and summary statements. One might point for verification to the summary statements like 13:3 or to the discourse in chapter 17, but ultimately such a claim can only be verified by a detailed analysis of the whole gospel.

19

5:43; 12:48; 13:20; 17:8; cf. 1:5, 11–12.

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The Central Structure within the Gospel My contention is that these five points together form the central structure of the author’s christology and that a detailed analysis of the gospel would show that this is the case. The case would be strengthened if in such an analysis it could be demonstrated that such a structure integrates all other christological motifs. It is clearly possible only to summarise the findings of such an analysis in a paper such as this and to claim that the case can be easily established. I shall endeavour to highlight only the significant features. A Summary Review of the Gospel The central structure underlies the prologue and the use of the Logos motif. The prologue reveals the clue to the drama which follows. It is that the Son was with the Father as the Logos, is given all things, has come (here “become flesh”; sending is implied only), has made the Father known and, again, by implication, has returned. In the rest of chapter 1 the focus is rather on Jesus’ being the Christ, the fulfiller of messianic expectations; “the Christ”, “the Messiah”, “the Son of God”, “the King of Israel”, “The Coming One”. This messianic tradition in John has a structure of its own. It prefers the designation “the Son of God” rather than “the Son”.20 It even features in the statement of the gospel’s purpose: “that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing you may have life in his name” (20:31). When we ask what this messiahship means, it is clear that messiahship is explained in terms of the central structure. “The Coming One” is the Son who has come. “The Son of God” is the Son of the Father. When the Baptist bears witness that Jesus is “the Son of God”, “the Christ” (1:19–34; 3:27–30), this has to be understood in the light of the explanation which immediately follows his words on the same issue in chapter 3, in 31–36, the verses we have considered (cf. 3:34b with 3:27 and 1:33). Similarly, Jesus’ messiahship, revealed to the Samaritan woman (4:25–26), is directly linked to his revelation of the Father (4:21, 23) and the explanation of his task in terms of the central structure (4:34). The messianic acclamation of those miraculously fed (6:14–15) points to Jesus as the one who has come, sent from the Father (6:29–40). Similarly, the focus of argument about Jesus’ messiahship in chapter 7 concerns his origin and authorisation in terms of the central structure (7:27–29, 40–42). In answer to the request to be told plainly

20 “The Son of God” occurs in traditionally messianic contexts: 1:34, 49; 10:36 (cf. 10:24); 11:4, 27; 19:7 (cf. 19:3); 20:31 (cf. 5:25). For “The Son of God” as a traditional Christian messianic designation see Ferdinand Hahn, Christologische Hoheitstitel, 2nd ed. (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1963), 281, 284–92.

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if he is the Christ (10:24), Jesus refers to the works he does in his Father’s name and to the oneness of sonship (10:25, 30, 36, 38) which that implies (10:37). The climax of the messianic assertions in the Lazarus episode (11:4, 27) is the prayer of thanksgiving in 11:42, expressed in terms of the central structure. The passion narrative abounds with messianic colour, but messiahship means coming into the world, bearing witness to the truth (18:37) and finishing the Father’s work (19:30). Thus, the messianic tradition is integrated within the central christological structure. The Messiah, the Son of God, is the revealer, the Son of the Father. A special question is posed however by the last two verses of chapter 1. Nathanael is promised that he will see greater things than Jesus’ miraculous activity and implicitly the messianic confession they evoke. He will see heaven opened and the Son of Man in what to my mind is best understood as a position of exaltation with angels serving him. 21 The implication is that there is more to know than Jesus’ messiahship and also more to know than what is being expressed in the central structure. The “something more” relates to Jesus as the Son of Man and his exaltation and to the fact that this lies in the future.22 We shall return to this. In the narratives about the wedding feast and the temple that follow in chapter 2 we note the central structure appearing in Jesus’ special knowledge and his glory being manifested, which, in terms of 1:14, 18, refers to his sonship, but also notice a “not yet” element, when Jesus speaks of his “hour” (2:4) and of his death under the figure of being consumed (2:17–22). In 3:1–11 the focus is on what in terms of the central structure qualifies the true bearer of revelation. In contrast to this, 3:12 promises the possibility of being shown heavenly things. Thus, just as in 1:50–51 there is promise of 21 See Schnackenburg, John, 532; A. J. B. Higgins, Jesus and the Son of Man (London: Lutterworth, 1964), 159–60. For a full discussion of alternative interpretations see Moloney, Son of Man, 23–41, who opts however for the meaning: you shall see Jesus as the revealer (p. 36). Similarly, Barnabas Lindars, “The Son of Man in the Johannine Christology,” in Christ and Spirit in the New Testament, In honour of C. F. D. Moule, ed. B. Lindars and S. S. Smalley (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973), 43–60, 47; Forestell, Word of the Cross, 23–24. I shall argue that the affirmation of messiahship implicit in Nathanael’s response is interpreted by the evangelist as an affirmation that Jesus is the true revealer as messiahship is understood elsewhere in the gospel, while the evangelist has Jesus refer to himself as Son of Man when he speaks of something more or “greater” than that (3:12–14; 5:20–27; 6:62; cf. 14:12). 22 See Stephen S. Smalley, “Johannes 1,51 und die Einleitung zum vierten Evangelium,” in Jesus und der Menschensohn. Für Anton Vogtle, ed. R. Pesch and R. Schnackenburg (Freiburg: Herder, 1975), 300–13, who writes: “Die Bedeutung Jesu als dcs Menschensohnes ist bei Johannes sogar grösser als seine Bedeutung als der Logos Gottes” (p. 313). But in my opinion he goes too far when he claims: “Das gesamte Johannesevangelium lässt sich gewissermassen als Midrasch zu Joh 1,51 ansehen” (p. 313) and attempts to trace a multitude of theological allusions surfacing in this one verse (cf. pp. 309–10).

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something greater, so here something better is spoken of. Here, too, there follows a Son of Man reference, which speaks of the ascent and descent of the Son of Man and of his being lifted up.23 A different image is used for exaltation here (lifting up the serpent) from that used in 1:51 but the common features are unmistakeable. In 3:15 eternal life is linked to the uplifting of the Son of Man including his salvific death.24 In 3:16 the reference to eternal life is picked up and a tradition of the giving or sending of the Son, also evident in Pauline writings, employed, 25 which is expanded with light-darkness, truth-evil imagery. Chapter 4 reflects both the messianic motif and the central structure with the idea of the Son’s sending and obedience. The pericope about the official’s

23

Recently both Eugen Rückstuhl, “Abstieg und Erhöhung des johanneischen Menschensohnes,” in Jesus und der Menschensohn. Für Anton Vogtle, ed. R. Pesch and R. Schnackenburg (Freiburg: Herder, 1975), 314–41, 324–25 and Moloney, Son of Man, 54– 46, have argued against a reference to the ascension of the Son of Man in 3:13. The major problem with such an understanding is the anachronism it implies. It is one thing for Jesus to speak as the exalted one. It is quite a different matter to have him speaking of the ascension in the past tense. Rückstuhl points to a widespread Jewish tradition of denying that anyone has ever ascended to heaven (cf. Prov 3:4; Bar 3:29; Wis 9:16) (pp. 326–27). Moloney paraphrases: “I am telling you what I have seen. You cannot understand these things, for not one of you has ascended to heaven to discover them; but the Son of Man has come down from heaven, and, as such, can speak with unique authority” (p. 57). Peder Borgen, “Some Jewish Exegetical Traditions as Background for the Son of Man Sayings in John’s Gospel (3,13–14 and context,” in L’Evangile de Jean, BETL 44, ed. M. de Jonge (Leuven: Gembloux, 1977), 243–58, and Bühner, Gesandte, 341–99, take 3:13 to refer to a preexistent ascension within the heavenly realm as the basis of commission. See the valid critique by Moloney, Son of Man, 233–34. But against both these views and those of Moloney and Rückstuhl, the more natural reading is to see in 3:13 a reference to Jesus’ ascension. So Schnackenburg, John, 392–93. This is even more so if with C. K. Barrett, The Gospel According to St. John (London: SPCK, 1978), 213, we allow the reading “who is in heaven,” which would clinch the anachronism! Brown, John, points to a similar anachronism in 4:38 (cf. also 13:31; 15:27; 17:11). In fact, it is vital for the understanding of the gospel that one recognise how frequently the evangelist makes contemporary allusions. Cf. already in chapter 3: 3:5 (baptism!); 3:8 (the Spirit; given only after Jesus’ glorification! 7:39); 3:11 (the church assumed!); 3:16, 18–19 (clearly post Easter perspectives?). Cf. also Siegfried Schulz, Das Evangelium nach Johannes (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1975), 13– 14; Carsten Colpe, “੒ ȣੂઁȢ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ,” TDNT 8 (1972), 400–77, 466. 24 Cf. Moloney, Son of Man, 51–67, 244–47, who denies any reference to the ascension as exaltation and limits the reference totally to the historical earthly crucifixion and the final act of revelation. But see III below where we argue that in the context of Johannine thought “lifting up”, “glorification”, “exaltation”, and “ascension” are not to be separated. This is not to deny the possibility that an originally independent tradition is being used here (so Schulz, Johannes, 59; Schnackenburg, John, 395), which may once have limited its reference to the crucifixion and borne conscious allusions to Isa 52:13 LXX. 25 So Werner Kramer, Christ, Lord, Son of God (London: SCM, 1966), 111–15.

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son reflects the understanding of Jesus’ miracles through which his sonship is seen. In the two miracles of chapter 6 the sonship of Jesus is reflected in his foreknowledge and supernatural power and perhaps also in his “I am” word (6:20).26 Whatever the origin of the christological use of these words, the motif of manifestation of divinity dovetails into the central structure at the point where Jesus functions as revealer. In the discourse which follows, 6:25–29, the appropriate response to Jesus’ miracles and the right understanding of his messiahship is clearly expounded in terms of the central structure, with special emphasis upon Jesus being the one who has come and been sent by his Father to do his will and to whom those who shall respond “are given”. The irony of “the Jews”’ objection about his origin makes sense in the light of the central structure. In 6:27 and 6:53 the title Son of Man occurs in speaking of Jesus as the one who will give eschatological life. In 6:60–71 the same phenomenon recurs which we found in 1:50–51 and 3:12–13, which spoke of the Son of Man. Once again “something more” is envisaged, the ascension of the Son of Man. “Do you take offence at this? Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending where he was before?” (6:62).27 Chapter 5 again employs the central christological structure in order to explain the Son’s relationship with the Father and their oneness. I shall pass over the details. But it is interesting that once again we have a recurrence of the Son of Man.28 The context again implies that something more is being spoken of: “Greater works than these will he show him, that you may marvel” (5:20). There follows a description of the Son’s authorisation to judge as the Son of Man. The hour of final judgement is coming (5:21–29). That is a promise of something extra, something eschatological, reminding us both of the something better and of the “hour” spoken of in 2:4. The traditional role of the Son of Man as judge is dominant. 29 We note, too, the close link between the Son being given all things and the Son of Man being authorised. 26 On the meaning of the “Ego Eimi” formula see Moloney, Son of Man, 135–41, and esp. Bühner, Gesandte, 158–66. 27 Cf. Moloney, Son of Man, 120–23, 244–47, who interprets the saying as a rejection by Jesus of doubt in what amounts to a tone of sarcasm: What more does he have to do to legitimate himself – ascend to heaven? There’s no need for him to do that. But this is forced. 28 Anarthrously, probably reflecting Danielic influence. So Moloney, Son of Man, 81; Blank, Krisis, 162. 29 So Moloney, Son of Man, 83–85. But once again Moloney presses the text into a statement about revelation: judgement takes place as a result of revelation. This over systematises. Blank, Krisis, 163–64, traces a development of the traditional judgement motif of the Son of Man complex of ideas so that in the fourth gospel the Son of Man is pictured also as the giver of life (cf. 6:27, 53). When this function is being exercised already during his earthly ministry, Jesus refers to himself as the Son. See also Robert Maddox, “The

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Reference to Jesus’ “time” in 7:1–13 applies to his death (cf. “hour” 2:4). 7:14–24 uses the central structure as a basis for discussing Jesus’ authority as a teacher and in 7:25–31 messiahship is explicated in these terms. We note in the same passage another reference to Jesus’ death as his “hour” (7:30). In 7:32–52 two elements begin to appear which take on more significance later: the question about where Jesus is going (7:33–36) and the term “glorification” for Jesus’ exaltation (7:39), used here to describe what must first happen before the Spirit is given (again “something more!”). The passage concludes with a dispute about Jesus’ origin as Messiah, clearly conceived of in the context of the central structure. Chapter 8 is also largely a development of the central structure, with special focus on the “whence” and “whither” (8:14, 21–24) as well as Jesus’ authority. There is another reference to Jesus’ “hour” (8:20). Here, too, the Son of Man motif appears. He will be lifted up; then something more will become apparent: the validity of what is being said in the central structure (8:28).30 The central structure determines the thematic orientation of chapter 9 and the understanding of messiahship. In the final verses, 9:35–41, the title Son of Man appears again in connection with Jesus’ function as judge. We note, too, the eminence the title conveys, for on hearing it, the blind man falls down and worships.31 10:1–21 with its shepherd imagery and stress on mutual knowledge between Father and Son confirms the dominant christological structure. Messiahship in 10:22–42 is spelled out in terms of the central structure, the unity of Father and Son in a purely functional mode. In chapter 11 the messianic confession on the lips of Martha (11:27) is expounded in terms of the central structure (11:4, 40). The messianic theme is highlighted in the entry narrative and the following discourse in chapter 12. 12:16 refers to a future turning point in the disciples’ understanding after “the glorification” of Jesus.

Function of the Son of Man in the Gospel of John,” in Reconciliation and Hope. Festschrift for Leon Morris, ed. R. Banks (Exeter: Paternoster, 1974), 186– 204, 195–203. 30 So Johannes Riedl, “Wenn ihr den Menschensohn erhöht habt, werdet ihr erkennen (Joh 8,28),” in Jesus und der Menschensohn. Für Anton Vogtle, ed. R. Pesch and R. Schnackenburg (Freiburg: Herder, 1975), 355–70, 361. 31 On the relationship between this and other Johannine Son of Man sayings, see Maddox, “Son of Man,” 198–99, who makes the point that the saying is not “an oddity” besides the others. Maddox is however too quick to affirm with Frederick H. Borsch, The Son of Man in Myth and History (London: SCM, 1967), 304–305, that the prominence of the title is entirely due to the strength of the tradition that in his lifetime Jesus has used this title of himself. We hope to show that this view disregards the influence of a particular cluster of ideas surrounding the title which was taken up and developed by the evangelist to fulfil a vital role in his christology.

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In 12:20–23 the Son of Man designation is directly linked with the motif of glorification and “the hour”. In 12:27–36 the same Son of Man cluster recurs, featuring glorification, being lifted up, execution of judgement and the drawing of all people to himself. The crowd equates Son of Man with the Messiah. Besides this, throughout chapter 12 and especially in the final verses, the central structure is determinative. The foot washing narrative (chapter 13) begins with reference to Jesus’ hour having come (13:1) and with a summary statement of the central structure (13:3). It also extends the description of the Son’s task and relationship with the Father, using the model of the central structure, to the task of the disciples and their relationship with the Son. As the Son is sent to reveal, so the disciples are sent to do and say what they have been commanded (cf. 3:11). In 13:31–38 the Son of Man motif recurs, again in association with “glorification”.32 It is followed by the question of where Jesus is going, a question picked up in 14:1– 11 and linked to Jesus’ revealing function, spelled out in terms of the central structure. In 14:12–31 another reference to “something greater” occurs but without the Son of Man designation: greater than the works Jesus is now doing will be those made possible by the giving of the Spirit/Paraclete. The Spirit will also make known the truth of what is expressed in the central structure: that Jesus speaks the words of the Father. Chapter 15 develops especially the parallel between the Son as sent and obedient and the disciples as sent and called to obedience including suffering, thus again extending the central structure into ecclesiology. The same parallel exists between the Son and the Spirit. The light breaks fully for the disciples when their “whither” question is answered: Jesus goes to the Father (chapter 16). Chapter 17 is like an extended commentary on the central structure, its elements occurring in different variations throughout. The Son has accomplished the work and has given the words for which he was sent by the Father. Again, the Father Son relationship is extended to the disciples. In addition, the Son looks forward to something more: his hour of glorification, when he shall return to the glory he had in pre-existence. As in chapter 14, so here, the Son of Man designation is not joined to these terms as one would expect from its use in chapter 13.

32 Of the two references to Jesus’ glorification in 13:31–32, the first, expressed in the past tense, refers to the total span of events which has just begun and comes to its climax in Jesus’ return to glory; the second, expressed in the future, refers to the immediate event of the crucifixion as an aspect of the whole through which the glorification will come to fulfilment in heaven. So Lindars, John, 461–62; Morris, John, 630–31; Schulz, Johannes, 178–79. Cf. Moloney, Son of Man, 195–96, who separates two events: glorification as crucifixion and glorification as return to glory.

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In the remaining chapters of the gospel there is considerable emphasis on Jesus’ messiahship, and this is explicated in terms of the central structure. Jesus the Christ the Son of God is Jesus the Son who reveals the Father.33 Summary Our cursory analysis confirms the contention that the central structure of the author’s christology contains the following features: (i) the terminology Son-Father. (ii) that the Son came from and returns to the Father. (iii) that the Son is sent by the Father. (iv) that the Father has given all things into his hands. (v) that the Son has made the Father known (existing in many variants). (a) The Messianic Stream and the Central Structure Within this structure or framework of thought individual christological motifs, which appear throughout the gospel, are integrated. But there are two further significant streams of thought which occur throughout and must be reckoned of major significance for the author’s christology. The first is the concern to show that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God. This is directly related to the central structure for it is explained in terms of Jesus being the Son who reveals the Father. (b) The Son of Man Cluster and the Central Structure The second stream of thought poses greater difficulties. It is best described as a cluster of motifs: it includes the designation “Son of Man”; glorification; being lifted up; the hour; judgement; and the direct implication of the cluster referring to “something better or greater” still to come when spoken of from the standpoint of the earthly Jesus.

The Central Structure and the Son of Man Cluster Characteristics of the Son of Man Cluster The association of these ideas occurs most clearly in 12:23 and 12:31–34. In 12:23 “the hour”, mentioned at regular intervals throughout the gospel and implying Jesus’ death (2:4; 7:6, 30; 8:20), is identified as the time of the 33 Moloney, Son of Man, 202–207, finds in Pilate’s words “Behold the man” (19:3) a reference to the Son of Man designation. Against this see Rudolf Schnackenburg, “Die Eccehomo-Szene und der Menschensohn,” in Jesus und der Menschensohn. Für Anton Vogtle, ed. R. Pesch and R. Schnackenburg (Freiburg: Herder, 1975), 371–86.

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glorification of the Son of Man. Here, too, “the hour” is linked with his death and is the basis for the fruit of mission (12:24), already foreshadowed by the coming of the Greeks to see Jesus (12:20–22). The hour of his death is the basis of the glorification of God (12:28). It is the hour of judgement (12:32). It is the hour of the lifting up of the Son of Man who will draw all people to himself (12:32; cf. 12:24). Much more than physical death is implied, though that is clearly included (12:33, 27, 24). In other passages which make use of this cluster of ideas we learn that the glorification of the Son of Man is the prerequisite for the sending of the Spirit (7:39) and for true understanding of the Old Testament, particularly as it applies to Jesus (12:16; cf. 2:22). The hour of glorification of the Son of Man leads to the glorification of God also according to 13:31–33. In the wider context God is said to be glorified when his disciples bear much fruit (15:8; cf. especially 12:23–24!). Glorification is spelled out in 17:5 as return to the glory shared with the Father from the foundation of the world (cf. 12:41: Isaiah saw the pre-existent glory). The hour of Jesus’ death is clearly seen as the moment which begins the final act of glorification completed in heaven. To the eye of faith, the death of the Son of Man is but the first step on the return to glory. 34 34 So Blank, Krisis, 61–63, who sees the cross as “Anfang und Beginn der Erhöhung.” Similarly, Schnackenburg, John, 392–97; Brown, John, 147. Drawing on the research of Wilhelm Thüsing, Die Erhöhung und Verherrlichung Jesu im Johannesevangelium, 2nd ed. (Münster: Aschendorff, 1970), 116, Moloney, Son of Man, appears to want to see two stages; the exaltation/glorification of the Son of Man at the crucifixion as the supreme revelation of regality and love; and second, the return to glory of the Son (pp. 63, 65, 177, 198–200). But “the hour” to come is clearly identified both with the death of Jesus and with his ascension as return to the Father. Thus in 13:1 and 17:1, 5 “hour” refers to the return and in 12:23, 27, 31–34; 13:31–32 the “now” refers to the impending hour of Jesus’ death with all its implications, including the change in power structure effected by Jesus’ exaltation to the Father, the basis for the success of Christian mission. So Schnackenburg, Johannesevangelium 2, 499–512. 19:30 does not mean that the Spirit is given from the cross (against Moloney, Son of Man, 178) but refers to Jesus’ dying. The Spirit comes only after Jesus has been glorified (7:39), just as scripture and certain words of Jesus are now understood after Jesus has been glorified (12:16; cf. 2:22 where the same idea is expressed but in the form “after he was raised from the dead”). What was “finished” (19:30) on the cross was not the particular function of the Son of Man understood as revealer, thus the glorification of the Son of Man, but the revelation by the Son of the Father (So Blank, Krisis, 267; cf. Moloney, Son of Man, 178), understood within the context of the Father-Son revelation model. The Son of Man is the title used for the “something greater”, which, as we have seen, includes both Jesus’ death and his exaltation to heavenly glory, his ascension (1:51; 3:12–13; 6:62; 5:20–24; 14:12). 3:14 refers to more than the lifting up of Jesus upon the cross (against Moloney, Son of Man, 62). It refers to the basis on which the Son of Man as judge gives eternal life: not only his death, but also his ascension in glory. Cf. Rückstuhl, “Abstieg,” who takes a modified stance: “Erhöhung und Verherrlichung liegen nur teilweise ineinander. Die Verherrlichung Jesu durch Gott setzt sich über seine Erhöhung ans Kreuz

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The same pattern of thought underlines the use of ਫ਼ȥȠ૨Ȟ in the Son of Man cluster of ideas. It means both the lifting up upon the cross and the exaltation in glory. The hour of uplifting of the Son of Man is the hour of glorification (12:23, 31–34) and the hour of death. Similarly, it is the basis of new understanding about Jesus (8:28) and of mission (12:34). Thus, if the Son of Man is lifted up, there will be healing and life (3:14–15). After the Son of Man has been glorified or lifted up, the Holy Spirit will be given, scripture will be understood, mission will bear fruit, the truth about Jesus will be known and there will be life. Along the same lines we must understand the use of Son of Man in 6:27, 53, which speak in the future of the Son of Man giving life. The Son of Man cluster is used by the evangelist to highlight what, from the perspective of the earthly ministry of Jesus, is something greater yet to come. During the earthly ministry Jesus’ messiahship is recognised. But greater than this is the vision of Jesus the Son of Man in his exalted state (1:50–51). Greater than the truth of the earthly revealer function of Jesus, the true teacher, is the heavenly aspect: his exaltation as Son of Man (3:12–15). Greater than the secrets of Jesus as the bread of life come down from heaven is the vision of the Son of Man ascending where he was before (6:62). Greater than the revelation given the Son for his earthly ministry will be the works of judgement which he is authorised to perform as the Son of Man (5:20). Within the same motifcluster “something greater” is also implied in 7:39; 8:28; 12:16; and 12:32. One might add: “Greater works than these will he (the believer) do, because I go to the Father” (14:12). The rationale is clearly that the Son of Man will be ascending, exalted, to the glory whence he descended (6:62; 3:13; 17:5): he will be glorified (12:23; 13:31–33). From this position of authority, the Son of Man will pour out the blessings that are elaborated in the Son of Man cluster. At the same time this will be the hour of judgement: the prince of this world will be cast out by the Son of Man (12:31), for the Son of Man is to be enthroned as judge (5:27; cf. 9:35–39; 12:31–40).

hinaus in seiner Auferweckung und Heilsherrschaft fort. Die Erhöhung Jesu fällt deswegen auch nicht einfach mit seiner Rückkehr in die himmlische Welt zusammen. Sie ist die Schwelle zu ihr. Zeichen fiir diesen Sachverhalt ist die Tatsache, dass die beiden johanneischen Aufstiegstellen – 6,62 und 20,17 – den Aufstieg Jesu nicht mit seiner Kreuzigung gleichsetzen” (p. 333). But this places too much weight on these texts in isolation. As a result, Rückstuhl can claim: “So hat Johannes Heilsinn und Heilskraft des Todes Jesu am Kreuz in einer Weise gedeutet, verdeutlicht und veranschaulicht, wie das zuvor keinem Verkünder und Theologen gelungen war, auch Paulus nicht” (p. 334). Against this cf. Blank, Krisis, 80–85, 267–68; Riedl, “Menschensohn,” 363–64; Willem Nicol, The Semeia in the Fourth Gospel (Leiden: Brill, 1972), 128–29; Forestell, Word of the Cross, 61–74.

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What is expressed by the Son of Man cluster of ideas in John 1–13 finds expression in the last discourses in much closer association with the terminology of the central structure. Thus, the return of the Son to the Father heralds “the greater things” (14:12) and this is characteristically spelled out by use of the Paraclete motif (14:16, 26; 15:26; 16:7–14; cf. 7:39). 17:1–5 speaks of the hour of glorification but here, not “the Son of Man” but “the Son” appears. Nevertheless, the focus of the cluster remains intact. From the perspective of the earthly ministry something greater lies before. It is the glorification and it will result in the giving of the Spirit, who will lead into new understanding of Jesus, make mission bear fruit, and bring judgement. Thus, the cluster expresses a clear soteriology. It is used to interpret the climax of Jesus’ ministry, in which he assumes the functions of the Son of Man. Hence passion, resurrection, exaltation, ascension, and glorification are all seen together as one event. For this reason, the initiating act, the passion and death, can sometimes stand for the whole. This is not because of a Pauline soteriology which wants to identify God’s power in weakness (cf. 1 Cor 1:18–25). That would be to read John with Pauline spectacles. Rather the passion narrative is, for the one who knows the outcome, a splendid piece of dramatic irony. The Son of Man cluster thus incorporates the following elements: the title “Son of Man”; “the hour” motif; the dual use of “uplifting”; glorification; ascension; the mention of “something greater”; and judgement. Despite some overlap in terminology, especially in the last discourses, with the central structure, the cluster is christologically homogeneous. How then does it relate as a whole to the central structure which we have identified? The Son of Man Cluster and its Function in the Gospel (a) The Role in Relationship to the Central Structure The Son of Man cluster is not integrated within the central structure of the author’s christology. Rather it must be seen as, amongst other things, giving the clue to how what is expressed in the central structure ever came to be understood. For it is only on the basis of the glorification of the Son of Man that the truth of the central structure could be perceived. Now it is known that he is the Son, who, having been given all things, came down as the one sent from the Father to make him known and then returned. The function of the Son of Man is not primarily to reveal but to give life and judgement. His final exaltation, ascension and glorification reveals that he is also the Son who was sent by the Father as revealer. 35 In this total event there is the revelation that 35 Moloney, Son of Man, 211–12, 246, stresses that the Son of Man is used of Jesus as the incarnate one and bears witness primarily to his function as revealer. But, apart from 3:13 and 6:62 which assume the pre-existence of Jesus as Son of Man, the title is used of Jesus not primarily in relationship to his function as the incarnate one but in relationship to

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Jesus is the revealer (8:28–29). In this sense the cross is a revelation but it is so only because it is part of God’s “yes” to Jesus, part of the glorification of the Son who, as the incarnate sent one, is the revealer. Nothing is added to the Son’s revelation by the event of the cross/ascension except the confirmation of that revelation’s validity and the means of its appropriation. (b) The Vehicle for Interpreting the Death of Jesus The Son of Man cluster is John’s way of interpreting the significance of the death of Jesus and its soteriological implications. Jesus’ death is part of his exaltation and the exaltation or glorification of the Son of Man makes possible the giving of eternal life. The author certainly appears to know traditions which interpret Jesus’ death as vicarious.36 Probably 1:29, 35; 3:15; 10:15b; 11:50– 51 and 15:13 imply such an understanding, though they can all be interpreted without featuring the vicarious, such as in the way that the Son of Man cluster understands Jesus’ death; something he had to endure on the path to exaltation from which he is able to give amongst other things eternal life (cf. Acts 5:31). That primarily a change in power structures rather than a cultic sacrificial act is in the author’s mind receives confirmation when we consider the obverse side: the exaltation means the ousting of Satan.37 In all of this the author doubtless draws on very diverse traditions but for our purposes it is significant to identify what bears the weight for him. (c) The Relationship to the Messianic Tradition Jesus’ messiahship is primarily spelled out in terms of the central structure. The relationship between the messianic christology and the cluster is similar to that between the central structure and the cluster. 1:51 offers a promise of something greater than the messiahship perceived by Nathanael and others in the signs of Jesus. Similarly, 9:35 suggests a deeper insight is reached with the understanding of Jesus as Son of Man than the messianic affirmations of 9:17, 22.38 his function as the one to be exalted and glorified. Its focus is the end of Jesus’ life. It is “the Son” which bears the weight of the revelation complex. To my mind both Moloney and Forestell overstress the thesis that the cross is the climax of revelation. It is important to note that Forestell sees the cross as a revelation of the love of the one who lays down his life for his own (Word of the Cross, 74). Bühner, Gesandte, 404–14, ultimately because of his doubtful interpretation of 3:13 as pre-existent anabasis, is led to see the Johannine Son of Man primarily as a revealing figure. This does not fit the orientation of the cluster. 36 Cf. Forestell, Word of the Cross, 193–95. Ulrich B. Müller, “Die Bedeutung des Kreuzestodes Jesu im Johannesevangelium,” KD 21 (1975): 49–71. 37 So Blank, Krisis, 283–85. 38 This may well reflect a preference for the use of Son of Man as a designation in words attributed to Jesus speaking of himself and some have pointed to the synoptic Caesarea

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The Central Structure and the Son of Man Cluster in the Last Discourses What we have identified is a central structure concerned primarily with revelation and having a terminology of its own and a Son of Man cluster with its own terminology interpreting the death and exaltation of Jesus. In some sense our designation “central structure” almost becomes anomalous, because the Son of Man cluster expresses something “greater”. Looking more closely at the two, we note that the terminological differentiation breaks down in the last discourses.39 There Jesus looks back on the finished task of revelation (14:7–11; 15:15, 21–24; 17:4, 6, 14, 18, 22, 26) and looks forward to what has been the theme of the Son of Man cluster, speaking of the “hour” (17:1), “glorification” (17:1, 5), “greater things to come” (14:12) but abandoning the Son of Man designation in favour of an integration within the central structure: when the Son returns to the Father (14:3–4; 12:28–29; 16:4–6, 16–33; 17:11, 13). The question of “whither”, which does already feature in Chapter 1–13, is now used as the point of overlap between the central structure and the Son of Man cluster (14:5, 28; 16:5–6, 16–33). What is greater because of the return of the Son is that a second Paraclete comes or is sent (14:16, 26–28; 16:6–7, cf. 7:39), whose role is spelled out in terms borrowed from the central structure, reflecting the “shaliach” model.40 He makes known the Son, what he said and did and such like (14:12, 16, 26; 15:26; 16:8–15). I suspect that the synthesis, evident in the last discourses but by no means complete, is the product of a Philippi and Jewish trial episodes, where there is a similar movement from messianic affirmation to Son of Man sayings as in John 1. See Moloney, Son of Man, 33–34; Smalley, “Johannes 1,51,” 310; Colpe, “੒ ȣੂઁȢ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ,” 468. Certainly “Christ” and “Prophet” are mostly popular acclamations made by others in John: (“Christ”: 4:29; 7:41; 9:22; 11:27; cf. 1:20, 25, 41; 3:28; 4:25; 7:26, 27, 31, 41–42; 10:24; 12:34; 20:31; “prophet”; 1:45; 4:19; 6:14; 7:40; 9:17; cf. 1:21, 23, 25; 7:52). Messianic christology is by no means denigrated by the evangelist. But it is only adequately understood in the sense of the central christological structure (as with the “signs”). Cf. J. Louis Martyn, History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel (New York: Harper and Row, 1968), 120–42, who sees a two-level drama in John. At a lower popular level, messianic Mosaic attributions are appropriate. But midrash discussion leads to awareness that Jesus is Son of Man. Martyn traces such a development in chapters 3, 6, 7 and 9 and sees it as reflecting movement of belief amongst synagogue leaders from belief in Jesus’ messiahship to belief in him as Son of Man. My analysis gives a very different explanation of the relationship between messiahship and Son of Man traditions in the gospel. 39 It is this conflation of terminology that leads Moloney, Son of Man, 199–200, to separate the glorification of the Son of Man from the glorification of the Son. 40 Cf. Peder Borgen, “God’s Agent in the Fourth Gospel” in Religions in Antiquity. Essays in memory of E. R. Goodenough, ed. J. Neusner (Leiden: Brill, 1968), 137–48, and Bühner, Gesandle, passim. Of both the disciples and the Paraclete it can be said that they go or come as those who are sent to make known what they have seen and heard. Cf. 1:31–38; 14:26; 15:26; 1 John 1:1–2. Both are given an authority modelled on that of the Son who was also sent as bearer of revelation (cf. 20:21–23; 3:8–11).

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later stage of reflection, possibly by the same author or by another of the same school. 41 The Central Structure and the Cluster in Chapters 1–13 Looking at chapters 1–13 we can observe a less developed stage of synthesis between the central structure and the Son of Man cluster. (a) Descent and Ascent and Its Significance Both speak of coming and going but the terminology in each case is different, the Son of Man cluster using descent and ascent, the central structure using coming and returning. 42 In the cluster descent has no more significance than to be the presupposition of the all significant ascent. 43 In the central structure, on the other hand, the coming is the essential presupposition of the earthly work of revelation, whereas the going is but a return to the Father. (b) Judgement Both complexes also speak of judgement, which in chapter 5 is developed from the idea that the Son is given all things and thus exercises that function now. But in the same context judgement is linked with the Son of Man, so that one might suppose that here two streams meet of which the author was aware. From 41

We cannot pursue this question here. Cf. Thyen, “Johannesevangelium,” for an extensive survey of current views. Maddox, “Son of Man,” is surely correct when he writes: “the whole farewell discourse is to be read in the light of the Son of Man theme” (p. 203) 42 The verbs most commonly used for Jesus’ going to the Father in the central structure are ʌopİ઄oȝai and ਫ਼ʌ੺ȖȦ, not ਕȞĮȕĮ¬ȞȦ, which is used in the Son of Man logia 3:13 and 6:62. The exception is 20:17, where a different tradition has probably supplied the word. The țĮIJ੺ȕĮıȚȢ-ਕȞĮȕ੺ıȚȢ terminology is particularly associated with the Son of Man tradition in John. The only other place where țĮIJĮȕĮ¬ȞȦ occurs in a christological context is in the manna sayings of chapter 6. Here the motif determines the choice of words. Because of the peculiar terminology it is misleading to make the general claim that the idea of the Son’s coming and going derives from the Son of Man tradition, as do Wayne A. Meeks, “The Man from Heaven in Johannine Sectarianism,” JBL 91 (1972): 44–72, 51–52, and Maddox, “Son of Man,” 196. Cf. Bühner, Gesandle, 3, 386, 418–19. 43 This is not to deny that at an earlier stage of the tradition the thought of humiliation was present. This is best illustrated by Phil 2:6–11. Exaltation follows humiliation in Jewish tradition. So Riedl, “Menschensohn,” 363–64; Blank, Krisis, 81–85, who points above all to Isa 52:13 LXX and the wider suffering servant passage extending into Isaiah 53 linking it to the synoptic Son of Man sayings about his suffering. The use of ਫ਼ȥȠ૨Ȟ and įȠȟ੺ȗİȚȞ, possibly originally as a result of the influence of Isa 52:13, does not mean that whenever these terms are present there is also the picture of the suffering servant in an author’s mind as Riedl, “Menschensohn,” appears to presume (p. 364). It would be equally erroneous to assume that the parallel to exaltation in Philippians 2 must mean that John has a kenotic christology.

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the perspective of the earthly ministry of Jesus, the Son of Man in the cluster understanding will be judge (5:26–29; 12:31); yet the Son of the Father is already exercising authority to judge (5:30, 22–24; 9:39; but cf. 9:35–38 – evidence of assimilation?). The same conjunction appears probably in 6:27 and 53, where, as Son of Man, Jesus will give life (cf. also 3:15) – the judge will pronounce. (c) Glory Both make use of the motif of Jesus’ “glory”. But in the cluster Jesus’ glorification is his return to that glory (12:23; 13:31; 7:39; 12:16; cf. 17:5). In the structure, however, there is emphasis on Jesus’ glory being seen already on earth (1:14, 18; 2:11; 11:4). The two ideas are in tension.44 (d) Eternal Life Both are concerned with eternal life. The difference is one of when and how this eternal life becomes available. In the Son of Man cluster it is clearly the result of the exaltation (3:15; 6:27, 53). In the central structure it is clearly already within the ministry of Jesus (3:16, 36; 5:21, 24, 25). The central structure reflects a more realised eschatology. The same feature was apparent in the judgement sayings. (e) Summary The different understanding of descent and ascent, judgement and glory, the different terminology for ascent and descent and the different soteriological presuppositions all point to two different approaches standing side by side at varying stages of integration.45 The Evangelist, the Central Structure, and the Cluster The author’s relationship to the two complexes must be seen as one of positive affirmation. Otherwise it is inexplicable why he should use the “greater” “better” comparison. In using the two traditions, he has modified the Son of

44 Cf. Nicol, Semeia, 131–33, who attempts to harmonise by speaking of a proleptic use of “glory” during the ministry of Jesus; similarly, Blank, Krisis, 272–73; Bühner, Gesandte, 395. But 1:14, 18 surely speaks against such a view. Cf. Müller, “Bedeutung des Kreuzestodes,” 66–68, who wants to detect a paraenetic purpose in the tension, illustrating that believers too must expect glory in suffering. Similarly, von den Osten-Sacken, “Leistung,” 161. 45 Moloney, Son of Man, 211–13, stresses the need to see Son of Man and Son as distinctive Johannine themes and lists features which he considers characteristic of each.

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Man cluster so that what it originally perceived as exaltation becomes return46 and what it originally understood as the presupposition of eternal life and judgement becomes the basis for the sending of the Holy Spirit/Paraclete, who shall continue doing the works of salvation and judgement which were already being done by Jesus during the earthly ministry. The author, thus, uses the Son of Man cluster as a way of justifying or explaining how he can write such an account of the earthly ministry of Jesus. For the Holy Spirit has brought all things to memory and made the hindsight possible. But that is not to say that the evangelist has the Son of Man cluster serve that function alone. The victory over Satan still seems to belong to the centre of his christology. Nevertheless, the primary focus is on the central structure, the revelation model, and the Son of Man cluster as validating its message. On this basis it is possible to assert that the Son of Man christological cluster, while not “the evangelist’s fundamental and principal Christology,”47 is certainly alive and influential. The fact that we have been able to delineate a Son of Man cluster counts also against any suggestion that the Son of Man has been assimilated to the Son concept. 48

46

A similar development may be illustrated from the epistle to the Hebrews where exaltation traditions are overlaid with a more developed christology according to which the Son, by virtue of his sonship, himself returns. Cf. 1:4–9; 5:5–10 with 7:16; 1:2–3, and see William R. G. Loader, Sohn und Hoherpriester. Eine traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zur Christologie des Hebräerbriefs, WMANT 53 (Neukirchen: Neukircherner Verlag, 1981). 47 Higgins, Son of Man, 155. 48 E. D. Freed, “The Son of Man in the Fourth Gospel,” JBL 86 (1967): 402–409, is hardly correct when he writes that the “Son of Man is only a variation for at least two other titles, namely, the Son of God and the Son . . . there is no separate Son of Man christology in the fourth gospel” (p. 403). Hans Conzelmann’s contention in Outline of New Testament Theology (London: SCM, 1969), that the titles of Jesus in the fourth gospel are but expositions of the Logos (p. 333) is also unhelpful. There is evidence of a merging in the last discourses, but the assimilation is, as Maddox sees, “not yet complete” (“Function,” 193). This is why it is also incorrect to say that the Johannine Messiah is the Son of Man, as does Schnackenburg, John, 532, or that the Son of Man is the Son, though they may sometimes share similar predications as in 3:15–16. The distinctive features of Son and Son of Man in the gospel also tell against the view that the Son sayings are a more advanced stage of interpretation of the Son of Man concept (against Schulz, Johannes, 62). But also see below Section IV 3 (a). Unfortunately, I have not had access to his earlier work, Untersuchungen zur Menschensohn-Christologie im Johannesevangelium (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1957).

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Johannine Christology – Observations in the Light of these Findings The presence of these two complexes and the nature of each pose important questions for the understanding both of the evangelist’s christology and of its background. In this final section I shall endeavour to identify these questions and comment on possible solutions. The Christology of the Gospel (a) “High” Sonship; subordinate functional relationship Firstly, the central structure is an important reference point for understanding the relationship between Jesus and God in the understanding of the evangelist. Oneness with the Father, whether expressed in terms of the Logos, mutual indwelling or divine sonship, is interpreted in accordance with the central structure.49 The oneness lies in the fact that the Son does as the Father does, speaks what he has heard, tells what he has seen and so on. In other words, the divinity of Jesus is primarily functionally perceived50 and implicit in it is the assumption that Jesus and God are two distinct beings, with the Son subordinate but a heavenly being who in his pre-existence shared a unique relationship with God.51 The author does not yet give any indication of an attempt to define this pre-existent relationship more clearly. This came later.52 The model appears to be that of the Wisdom-Logos hypostasis53 but the 49 I have not had access to Mark L. Appold, The Oneness Motif in the Fourth Gospel, WUNT 2.1 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1976). 50 So Brown, John, who writes: “Although the Johannine description and acceptance of the divinity of Jesus has ontological implications, . . . in itself this description remains primarily functional” (p. 408). Similarly, C. K. Barrett, “‘The Father is greater than I’ (Jn 14,28): Subordinationist Christology in the New Testament,” in Neues Testament und Kirche. Für R. Schnackenburg, ed. J. Gnilka (Freiburg: Herder, 1974), 144–59; Miranda, Sendung, 78; Bühner, Gesandte, 212–13. Cf. also B. A. Mastin, “A Neglected Feature of the Christology of the Fourth Gospel,” NTS 22 (1975/76): 32–51, 48–51: John A. T. Robinson, “The Use of the Fourth Gospel for christology today,” in Christ and Spirit in the New Testament. In honour of C. F. D. Moule, eds. B. Lindars and S. S. Smalley (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973), 61–78. 51 Bühner, Gesandte, explores the angelological background of the juxtaposition of strict subordination and heavenly origin in Johannine christology (pp. 316–23). 52 On the post Johannine developments cf. Pollard, Johannine Christology, passim. 53 This is not to suggest that ideas of pre-existence are derived totally from the application of this motif. Miranda, Sendung, rightly stresses besides this the prophet motif (pp. 63–68) and Bühner, Gesandte, beyond the prophet motif, the general idea of emissary authorisation, in particular its development in rabbinic and esoteric Judaism towards the speculation about prophetic and angelic anabasis (pp. 341–73). The fact remains, however, that the pre-existent relationship between Jesus and God receives reflection in the New Testament almost

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relationship is primarily functional. Thus the fourth gospel exhibits the twofold phenomenon of having a “high” christology in the sense that Jesus is no mere man but a heavenly being, Son of God, and, on the other hand, defining the relationship with God not in substantial but in highly functional terms. Jesus is qualified as the revealer not on grounds of his being but on grounds of where he has been and the relationship which he has. The analogy with the “shaliach” lies near54 and the dominance of the “sending” motif and the overriding theme that he who receives the Son receives him who sent him (cf. 13:20) points in the same direction. (b) The Puzzle: what does the revealer reveal? Secondly, the dominating theme of Jesus the revealer does raise the question: what does he reveal? The observation is not new that he reveals that he is the revealer.55 In fact throughout, this is the evangelist’s chief concern and the meaning of messiahship is largely the same: that Jesus is the true revealer. But what does he reveal? Even when we are told that the messenger tells what he has seen and heard, we are not told what he actually did see and hear and the works of the Father are scarcely elaborated. Our observations about the central structure thus heighten the sense of puzzlement. As far as John is concerned Bultmann is surely right: not “das Was” but “das Dass”, not what he revealed but simply that he was the revealer is the theme.56 For Bultmann the puzzle is its existential solution. But one suspects that this does not do justice to the phenomenon. Another answer would be to say that the author assumes that the content of the message (for instance about the kingdom of God, or about exclusively in contexts which are hymnic and which make use of sophia categories (Col 1:15–20; Heb 1:2–3; John 1:1–18; cf. Phil 2:6–11; 1 Cor 8:6). Both the form and the juxtaposition of statements about pre-existence and post-existent glory suggest that the primary Sitz im Leben is worship. As the motif of Jesus as God’s vice-regent made possible a conceptual bridge from post-existent glory to pre-existent glory at the heavenly level “above”, so it was the prophet motif which made possible the bridge to pre-existence “below” at the earthly level. The two motifs are present in the fourth gospel but not yet fully integrated. For beyond the prologue there is little trace of the sophia tradition and preexistence is much more closely linked with the emissary motif, which in turn determines the functional nature of the relationship between the Father and the Son. Thus, for John the angelic/Son of Man type of heavenly emissary and the Logos hypostasis figures have similar ontological and relational “weight” – as they probably would have had in contemporary Jewish speculation. On this see Martin Hengel, Der Sohn Gottes. Die Entstehung der Christologie und die jüdisch-hellenistische Religionsgeschichte (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1977), 73–75; Frances Young, “Two Roots or a Tangled Mass?” in The Myth of God Incarnate; ed. J. Hick (London: SCM, 1977), 87–124, 116 ff.; William R. G. Loader, “The Apocalyptic Model of Sonship,” JBL 97 (1978): 525–54. 54 See the excellent study of Bühner, Gesandte. 55 So Rudolf Bultmann, Theology of the New Testament (London: SCM, 1955), 2.66. 56 Bultmann, Theology, 2.6

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redemption through the cross) is known and therefore there is no need to include such sayings of Jesus. But then one would at least expect some secondary indications, that this were so. What comes nearest is what is expressed through the Son of Man cluster, in whose terms the decisive soteriological event is the exaltation of the Son of Man, which involves the defeat of Satan and the giving of eternal life. But, as we have seen, the central structure assumes that eternal life is given already before what the Son of Man cluster speaks of and that it is related to the truth of Jesus’ earthly revelation. The puzzle thus remains a challenge to which we shall return below. (c) The Humanity of Jesus It seems to me that in the fourth gospel we observe christology in a state of flux. This relates also to the understanding of Jesus’ humanity. On the one hand, the incarnation revelation model involves a manifestation of glory, which threatens to rob the human Jesus of his real humanity. In so far, Käsemann’s characterisation of the Johannine Christ as a divine being striding across the earth is apt.57 In addition, the evangelist has probably integrated a signs source within this structure and, whereas within it Jesus’ qualities as charismatic or divine man/miracle worker were highlighted, the evangelist has, while retaining the miracles, made signs out of them, signs that point to the fact that the Son is a divine being who has come down from heaven. 58 On the other hand, the evangelist has not followed this through systematically, so that, as Bornkamm has pointed out,59 there are strong traditions which still presuppose a real earthly limited humanity. The Son of Man cluster assumes that Jesus does not bear his glory on earth, but looks forward to glorification. Christology after the Gospel The potential is there within the gospel for a christology to develop which focusses entirely on the revelational model and leaves out the humanity altogether.60 Incipient docetism can be detected in the central christological structure of the gospel. Within the epistles on the other hand we seem to have 57 Käsemann, Testament of Jesus, 25, 74–76. Cf. the discussion in Brown, “Kerygma,” 219–25. 58 So Robert T. Fortna, “Christology in the Fourth Gospel: Redaction Critical Perspectives,” NTS 21 (1974/75): 489–504, 491–94; Nichol, Semeia, 122. 59 Günther Bornkamm, “Zur Interpretation des Johannesevangeliums,” in Günther Bornkamm, Geschichte und Glaube. Erster Teil, Gesammelte Aufsätze III (München: Kaiser, 1968), 104–21. 60 Müller, Christologie, suggests perhaps rightly that this development has taken place by the time of the Johannine epistles amongst those who deny Jesus has come in the flesh (67– 68). See the critique in Thyen, ThR 42 (1977), pp. 220–22.

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a christology which is nearer to the Son of Man cluster of the gospel. There “paraclete” is used of Jesus in his exalted state (1 John 2:1). In the gospel it is implied of Jesus in his earthly ministry (14:12), a function already realised on earth. In the epistle christological focus returns more to the exalted one but moves also more heavily towards the significance of Jesus’ death as vicarious (1:7; 2:2; 4:10; 3:16; 3:8; 4:14). The echo of John 3:16 makes a different sound: “He loved us and sent his Son to be the expiation for our sins.” (1 John 4:10). While this idea is not absent in the gospel, it receives nothing like the prominence it does in 1 John. It may well be the work of another of the same general school as the evangelist but at a later stage. Precursors of Johannine Christology (a) John and the ‘Q’ Commissioning Material What of the traditiohistorical origins of the two complexes? There is an astonishing similarity between what we have identified as the central structure of Johannine christology and Matt 11:27; Luke 10:22.61 The central structure: The Son comes from the Father, has been given all things, is sent, makes known what he has seen and heard, and returns. Matt 11:27: “All things have been given me by my Father; and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and he to whom he chooses to reveal him.” This is in fact more than “a bolt from the Johannine blue.” It is a foreshadowing of the central structure of Johannine christology and may well reflect its origin. Elements missing are: the Son’s coming, being sent, and returning. Otherwise the central pattern is there: the terminology; the Son being given all things; the revelation of knowledge (and one might add that the actual theme of mutual knowledge does occur literally in John 10:14). These words of Jesus in ‘Q’ occur within the commissioning context, in which other common Johannine themes appear: that the Son is sent and that those who receive the Son receive him who sent him (Matt 10:40; Luke 10:16; cf. Mark 9:37 parr.; John 13:20).62 What is missing is only the idea of coming and going. This suggests that Johannine christology is a development of what was already present in the ‘Q’ community and that it has received a new setting: that of the 61 Cf. Blank, Krisis, 162–63, and D. Moody Smith, “Johannine Christianity: Some Reflections on Its Character and Delineation,” NTS 21 (1974/5): 222–48, 230–31 n. 5, who raise the question of the traditiohistorical relationship 62 Focus on the special tradition of the sending of “the only Son” in 3:16–17. (cf. Rom 8:3, 32; Gal 4:4) has to my mind obscured the true traditiohistorical background of the “sending” motif as it appears within the central structure of the author’s christology, namely the commissioning traditions of the kind represented in the synoptics (against Bühner, Gesandte, 416; cf. Miranda, Sendung, 14–28, 42–45; Schnackenburg, Johannesevangelium 2, 157–58). 3:16–17 belongs to a different stream of tradition from that of the central structure (so even the terminology: “God”, “only Son” and the original soteriological focus).

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coming and going presupposed by a developed christology of pre-existence, which, in turn, gives a more developed meaning to the “sending” motif.63 The wider context suggests strong links with both the wisdom and the prophetic traditions, not so much with the messianic. 64 And that is consistent with what we found in the gospel. It is important that, if we look at the ‘Q’ saying, the meaning of the revelation is determined by the immediate context. Matt 11:25– 26 speaks of the babes to whom the revelation has been given and means the disciples. The message is clearly the message of Jesus: the good news of the kingdom of God - the reign of God (Matt 10:7; Luke 10:9, 11) and associated with it the miracles which demonstrate its power (Matt 10:9; Luke 10:8, 17, 20). It is surely not by chance that it is especially within these sections of ‘Q’ that deal with the missionary enterprise, that we find so many texts with parallels in the fourth gospel. Apart from the texts we have considered: about revealing, sending, receiving, see too the harvest saying (Matt 9:37; Luke 10:2; cf. John 4:35), the judgement motif (Matt 10:15; 11:21–23; Luke 10:12, 13– 15) and the saying about saving or losing one’s life (Matt 10:39; Luke 17:33; cf. John 12:25; Mark 8:34–35 parr.). It looks very much as though the material related to the commissioning of the disciples was formative in the Johannine community.65 The differences are that there has been a move from understanding Jesus as the prophetic envoy of Wisdom with a unique Father-Son relationship, preaching the kingdom of God, to understanding Jesus as the pre-existent Son who has come with Wisdom’s glory to reveal the Father and has returned. The fourth evangelist can still speak in terms of Jesus’ revealing the kingdom of God which he sees (3:3, 5) but kingdom of God has come to be differently defined (cf. 19:36). It is not possible to pursue this relationship in detail in this paper but it does seem to me that there is a case to be made for the christology of the fourth evangelist having a close relationship with that of the commissioning narratives and sayings of ‘Q’. (b) Behind ‘Q’? Before leaving this Johannine logion of the synoptic tradition, I would like to mention the tension there is between Matt 11:27 and the preceding verses. At

63 On the background of the “sending” motif, see Josef Blank, “Die Sendung des Sohnes. Zur christologischen Bedeutung des Gleichnisses von den bösen Winzern Mark 12, 1–12,” in Neues Testament und Kirche. Für R. Schnackenburg, ed. J. Gnilka (Freiburg: Herder, 1974), 11–41; Miranda, Sendung, and Bühner, Gesandte, passim; also Loader, “Sonship,” 536–38, 541–48. 64 So Blank, “Sendung,” 28–33; Siegfried Schulz, Q: Die Spruchquelle der Evangelisten (Zurich: TVZ, 1972), 224–28. 65 Cf. Oscar Cullmann, Der Johanneische Kreis (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1975), who constructs a hypothesis, that there is a direct link between missionaries referred to in John 4:38, the Stephen circle, the Hellenists and the Fourth Gospel

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an earlier stage it is likely that 11:27 has been secondarily introduced into this context.66 It does not follow smoothly from 11:25–26, which speak of “these things” being revealed, and any attempt to relate “these things” to “all things” and especially to God the Father as the object of revelation is strained. Apart from that, there is the change from second to third person. Matt 11:27 is in all probability an isolated logion. Its traditiohistorical parallels suggest that it is originally to be understood as a saying of the risen Lord in the context of commissioning with much the same sense as Matt 28:18: “All power has been given to me in heaven and on earth; go therefore and teach all nations baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” 67 The revelation of the Son is the basis for Paul’s commissioning in Gal 1:15–16 and for Peter’s commissioning in Matt 16:16–18.68 Originally the logion Matt 11:27 speaks thus in all probability of the exaltation of the Son (all things being given into his hands – probably an allusion to Dan 7:14 understood as the exaltation of the Son of Man!),69 of the relationship now enjoyed between Father and Son and of the role of the Son in evangelism and commissioning. The Son reveals the truth about the Father, the good news of his impending reign. (c) The Background of the Son of Man Cluster Turning to the Son of Man cluster, we may note the following. The understanding that salvation is primarily the result of the work of the exalted one finds its parallels in Luke and Lukan tradition, especially in the speeches of Acts (Acts 5:31; 2:33, 38). For there the one who has been “lifted up” in exaltation (੢ȥȦıİȞ) gives repentance and forgiveness and pours out the Holy Spirit (5:31–32). The model is similar but the material sufficiently different for us not to posit any direct relationship. The term glorification for the exaltation of Jesus, present in Acts 3:13, is known elsewhere in the New Testament (Heb 5:5; Rom 8:17; cf. 1 Tim 3:16; 1 Pet 1:21; 4:13). In both Acts and Hebrews the meaning is hardly re-glorification, that is, return to the previously held glory, as the developed Johannine model of John 17:4 presupposes. This may suggest that the cluster originally derives from a tradition in which the primary focus was glorification without any account of pre-existence. Perhaps the terminology of the servant poem influenced the tradition (ਫ਼ȥȦș੾ıİIJĮȚ țĮ੿ įȠȟĮıș੾ıİIJĮȚ ıijંįȡĮ Isa 52:13).70 Within the Son of Man cluster the 66

So Schulz, Q, 215–20. For what follows see also Hahn, Hoheitstitel, 321–26. For what follows see also Loader, “Sonship,” 536–37. 68 See Loader, “Sonship,” 537–38. 69 So Schulz, Q, 222; Eduard Schweizer, “ȣੂંȢ,” TDNT 8 (1972), 366–92, 373 n. 278; Bühner, Gesandte, 198, 202, 263. 70 Cf. Forestell, Word of the Cross, 65. For the use of glorification terminology in both Jewish and Christian synoptic Son of Man tradition, see Blank, Krisis, 270, n. 13. 67

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exaltation implies that Jesus is given a position of authority as judge to dispense life and judgement. “Lifting up” (ਫ਼ȥȠ૨Ȟ) appears in Acts 2:33; 5:31 (cf. Heb 1:3; 7:26) but especially noteworthy is Phil 2:6–11. Here in the context of the hymn, the pre-existent Jesus, described in Adamic terms,71 becomes man and is then exalted. The Son of Man cluster, as it appears in the fourth gospel, along with the idea of descent, has most in common with this hymn. If we posit a Son of Man tradition reaching back from the evangelist, we may trace its course in the following way. It does seem that the use of Son of Man in earlier traditions was not restricted to parousia, suffering and earthly ministry sayings. To these we must add in the light of Matt 28:18; Matt 11:27 par. and also Rev 1:13 and Acts 7:55–56, the category: exaltation sayings. Johannine tradition knows the use of the Son of Man designation in this context of exaltation. It also used the terms ਫ਼ȥȠ૨Ȟ and įȠȟ੺ȗİȚȞ which are evidenced elsewhere, perhaps also in association with the Son of Man tradition (Phil 2:9?), but certainly in association with a soteriology according to which life and the Spirit are given by the exalted one (Acts 2:33; 5:31; cf. John 7:37–39; 14:16; 3:15). The association also with judgement is widespread in Son of Man tradition, as the various Jewish and also the various synoptic Son of Man streams testify. In fact, in John it seems the author makes reference to Dan 7 (John 5:27) and understands judging as the Son of Man’s traditional task par excellence (cf. John 5:28–29!). The author retains the timing of the exaltation as the significant turning point. The major development beyond Philippians 2 and similar traditions is that now the cross, rather than being seen as the last step downwards, is seen as the first step upwards, so that it can itself be called the exaltation. This is not to say that John simply sees the cross as a steppingstone. It is still the place of suffering and does mean laying down of life (10:17; 15:13). But it is this, which, for the one who knows the outcome, can be described as the crucial change in world power structure and the glorification of the Son of Man. It cannot be said for certain that the existence of suffering Son of Man sayings led to this development72 but possibly such traditions may lie behind John 3:14–15.

71

Cf. Gen. 1:26. On the religio-historical background of the hymn, see Joachim Gnilka, Der Philipperbrief, HThKomm X 3 (Freiburg: Herder, 1968), 138–44. Our concern in mentioning Adamic terminology is not to support the res rapienda Adam-Servant-ofYahweh interpretation of, for instance, Oscar Cullmann, Die Christologie des Neuen Testaments (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1966), 178–86, but to note a potential Man-Son of Man background to the description of the pre-existent one, which brings it close to the notion of the pre-existent Son of Man in John. For a new way of relating the Son of Man and Adamic traditions of the New Testament, see Loader, “Sonship,” 548–53. 72 Cf. Moloney, Son of Man, 119–20, who assumes John knew the synoptic tradition.

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The evangelist can also freely refer to Jesus as the Son of Man during his earthly ministry. Where Jesus is recognised as such, there is a response of worship, suggesting the great eminence the title conveyed (9:38). (d) The Central Structure and the Cluster – Son of Man Traditions It seems strange that the central structure of the evangelist’s christology should have developed from a tradition like Matt 11:27, in which is enshrined what must originally be a reference to the Son of Man in the words: “all things have been given me of the Father.”73 For, except for John 5, the Son of Man cluster and this aspect of the central structure are not linked and even there this aspect of the central structure seems to have been used without awareness of its probable traditiohistorical origin in the Son of Man tradition. Rather, Dan 7:13, understood as authorisation for judgement, is drawn in secondarily in support of the function of judgement already being exercised by the Son. In the confluence, the apocalyptic eschatological and revelation-realised eschatological streams are still clearly traceable. What explanation can there be for this phenomenon of the central structure and the cluster both being independently rooted in part in the Son of Man tradition? If what we have suggested is correct, then to a lesser degree the same problem arises already within the ‘Q’ material, where we have the logion Matt 11:27 influenced by the Son of Man motif, applied to the earthly Jesus within the context of his being bearer of revelation and Wisdom, and Son of Man sayings which speak of a key role in the future for that figure (e.g., Matt 24:26– 27, 37 –44 par.). In the case of Matt 11:27, there is no immediate indication in the context that the Son of Man motif has shaped the tradition. In such cases, where the Son of Man does refer to the earthly activity of Jesus, it is obvious that there has been a prolepsis (perhaps even originating with Jesus himself), because the title is retained as well as the imagery associated with it.74 This is not the case with Matt 11:27 or its more developed form in the fourth gospel. The most one can say is that here we have evidence of a special development of the Son of Man tradition in which the particular features of authority, authorisation for mission and association with Wisdom have played a role. I have developed elsewhere an hypothesis according to which the terminology “Father-Son” featured especially in the context of speaking of the future role of the Son of Man and that, the more this function was seen as being exercised already by the exalted Jesus, the more the title Son of Man came to be swallowed up by the term “Son” in association with “Father”. 75 This Christian apocalyptic model of sonship spoke of Jesus the Son as exercising authority to

73

See n. 69 above. This is convincingly worked out by Maddox, “Function.” 75 Loader, “Sonship,” 528–36. 74

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commission and to reveal and came to be used also of the earthly Jesus where he exercised this role, as in Matt 11:27 but also in the fourth gospel. 76 Besides this, there seems to me to have been a development which also took its starting point from the exaltation of Jesus to be (or as) Son of Man as the deciding event in salvation history. But here the emphasis lies on exaltation as a change in the power structure of the universe: thus the defeat of Satan. It was the glorification and uplifting of the one who suffered. On the basis of the authority and power given to the Son of Man eternal life and the Spirit are given. ‘Q’ does not have this tradition however and Mark only has statements about the suffering. Both have statements which speak of the power structure change in terms of the parousia of the Son of Man. My hypothesis presupposes that there did exist behind both developments evident in Johannine christology a belief that Jesus was exalted as Son of Man and evidence for this seems to be present in the prehistory of Matt 11:27; 28:18; Acts 7:55–56; Rev 1:13; possibly Philippians 2; as well as in the fourth gospel itself. In John, the Son of Man exaltation christology is represented in the cluster. The central structure, which ultimately also derives from Son of Man exaltation christology, represents a different development, in which the focus has moved to authorisation for revelation by the incarnate sent one. 77 (e) The Hermeneutical Function of the Son of Man Cluster What has happened then in the Johannine circle? I suggest that both Son of Man streams are present. The central one is that focussing now on the Son as revealer. The exaltation Son of Man tradition persists with its own cluster of motifs and thus retains the salvific significance of the cross. But this has become secondary. The primary role of the Son of Man cluster has become to affirm that what has been “remembered” as the central structure is true. Perhaps more concretely, what has been remembered by the Johannine Teacher of Righteousness, 78 the beloved disciple, is gospel. It is what the Spirit has made known and this has been made possible by the exaltation of the Son of Man. Cullmann is right when he observes that John is doing the same as Luke is doing, only by different means.79 Luke affirms oneness with the historical Jesus

76 Loader, “Sonship,” 531, 542, 546. Failure to perceive the two kinds of influence emanating from the Son of Man idea leads Bühner to confuse the motif of authorisation of the emissary (now completely overlaid by the central “Father-Son” structure, though he thinks to find it still in 3:13 with “Son of Man”) with the Johannine Son of Man cluster and its distinctive motifs which operate with a different focus (Gesandte, 406–407 et passim). 77 Cf. Blank, Krisis, 162–63. 78 Cf. Jürgen Roloff, “Der johanneische ‘Lieblingsjünger’ und der Lehrer der Gerechtigkeit,” NTS 15 (1968/69): 129–51, and the fascinating study by R. Alan Culpepper, The Johannine School (Missoula: Scholars, 1975), 264–70. 79 Cullmann, Der Johanneische Kreis, 14.

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by demonstrating divinely planned and guided continuity in two volumes. John does so by having the Jesus of the one gospel speak on two levels: the historical words and pneumatically remembered words in which Jesus is actualised as speaking in the present. 80 John legitimises this by using the Son of Man cluster and its implications of something greater than the historical Jesus yet to come. This has indeed come for the Johannine circle and is pre-eminently represented in what the beloved disciple taught. Concluding Questions In conclusion this whole essay raises many questions. The puzzle remains: what does the revealer reveal? Is it just that a relationship of love with the Father is offered or is there some further content or teaching which we just haven’t been able to track down or which we are to assume as present in the minds of the readers? If it is the relationship which is primarily in focus, what are its contractual terms and obligations? Why does John frustrate us by not setting it out in black and white and telling us the content or is it that he has grasped the heart of the gospel by directly avoiding such an approach and by simply offering us the same relationship Jesus has with the Father and by making belief in that the only precondition? So much for the puzzle which meets one on the centre stage of Johannine theology. Historically, what is the significance of the christological affinity to ‘Q’ commissioning traditions? Are we, for instance, to picture a community which grew up as a result of the preaching of those who understood themselves as sent out in much the same way as the traditions in ‘Q’ describe it – and with a christology so similar that it took only the special inspiration of a beloved disciple to develop it into what we have in John? Since it is not difficult to show that what is missing from the christology of Matt 11:27 was present at least in the 50s of early Christianity, is it conceivable that the peculiar Johannine circle developed something like the christology of the evangelist and perhaps produced the gospel at a date much earlier than usually thought? 81 I find myself also faced with a question relating to the Son of Man cluster. If the central structure may be traced to traditions that have a claim to being very early, is it not also possible that some important missing links in our understanding of what happened to Son of Man christology may be supplied by the gospel? Surely in the light of these findings the Johannine Son of Man needs further research.

80 Cf. Franz Mussner, The Historical Jesus in the Gospel of St. John (London: Burns and Oates, 1967), 86 ff. 81 Cf. on different grounds Cullmann, Johanneische Kreis, 101; John A. T. Robinson, Redating the New Testament (London: SCM, 1976), 254ff.

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I have tried to show that, amid all the various motifs which play a role in Johannine christology, on centre stage we have the Son who has come, sent by the Father and given all authority, makes the Father known and returns to the Father. Supporting this role we have the Son of Man cluster which legitimises the portrayal of Jesus in the gospel, in which Jesus not only utters the words of the historical Jesus but also speaks words pneumatically remembered by the beloved disciple which actualise the word of Jesus for the Johannine community. The Johannine presentation is not without its dangers; but it did lay down a hermeneutical basis on which the word of Jesus became alive for his community and has continued to be the word of life throughout the generations.

2. Wisdom and Logos Traditions in Judaism and John’s Christology Wisdom (and Logos) Tradition in the World of John’s Judaism One of the closest parallels in early Judaism to the way the Fourth Gospel employs Wisdom (and Logos) tradition is to be found in the Parables of Enoch. For there we read: Wisdom did not find a place where she might dwell. So her dwelling was in the heaven. Wisdom went forth to dwell among the sons of men, But she did not find a dwelling. Wisdom returned to her place, And sat down among the angels. Iniquity went forth from her chambers, Those whom she did not seek she found, And she dwelt among them Like rain in a desert And dew in a thirsty land. (1 En. 42:1–2)

This is in stark contrast to Ben Sira, who has Wisdom declare: 4

I dwelt in the highest heavens, and my throne was in a pillar of cloud. 5 Alone I compassed the vault of heaven and traversed the depths of the abyss. 6 Over waves of the sea, over all the earth, and over every people and nation I have held sway. 7 Among all these I sought a resting-place; in whose territory should I abide? 8 Then the Creator of all things gave me a command, and my Creator chose the place for my tent. He said, “Make your dwelling in Jacob, and in Israel receive your inheritance.” 9 Before the ages, in the beginning, he created me, and for all the ages I shall not cease to be. 10 In the holy tent I ministered before him, and so I was established in Zion. 11 Thus in the beloved city he gave me a resting-place, and in Jerusalem was my domain. 12 I took root in an honoured people, in the portion of the Lord, his heritage. (Sir 24:8–12)

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The former sounds like the work of a disaffected group;1 the latter, like a celebration of something they own, Wisdom’s dwelling in Zion.2 The former has a close parallel in the prologue of the Fourth Gospel: He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. (John 1:10–13)

Here, too, I believe we hear the voice of a disaffected group. 3 What now serves as an introduction to an account of Jesus of Nazareth and his significance, John 1:1–18, the Gospel’s prologue, may well have drawn upon an originally Jewish tradition which Jewish believers in Jesus subsequently adapted for their purposes. These words, perhaps without 1:13, would have echoed the sentiment of 1 Enoch 42 and even in their adapted role still do. All three texts, 1 Enoch 42, Sirach 24, and John 1:10–13, assume a heavenly pre-existence of Wisdom (or Logos) with God. Ben Sira draws heavily on Proverbs where one of the author’s or compiler’s concerns is with what young men get up to in the years before they reach the usual age for marriage, 30, and thereafter. Understandably there are warnings about sexual behaviour and in this context not only explicit references to seductive and soliciting women deemed dangerous (2:16–19; 5:1–23; 6:23–35; 7:6–27; 9:13–18), but also a creative use of female imagery to enjoin proper behaviour. For Wisdom, too, is a woman who solicits on the street and invites engagement with young men (1:20–23; 8:1–21; 9:1–6).4 Ben Sira exploits the imagery in explicitly erotic

1 See the discussion in George W. E. Nickelsburg and James C. VanderKam, 1 Enoch 2: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch Chapters 37–82, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2012), who see it as likely to have been written in deliberate contrast to what Ben Sira was claiming of Mosaic Torah (pp. 138–41). In William R. G. Loader, The Pseudepigrapha on Sexuality: Attitudes towards Sexuality in Apocalypses, Testament, Legends, Wisdom, and Related Literature (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011), 10–11, I note that the allusion to water may well be reversing the use of such imagery in Sir 24:25–31. 2 On this see John Ashton, Understanding the Fourth Gospel, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 366–83. 3 See Charles H. Talbert, “‘And the Word Became Flesh’: When?” in The Future of Christology, ed. A. J. Malherbe and W. A. Meeks (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 43–52. 4 See my discussion in William R. G. Loader, “Proverbs’ ‘Strange Woman’: Image and Reality in LXX Proverbs and Ben Sira, Hebrew and Greek” in Die Septuaginta – Texte, Theologien, Einflüsse, ed. Wolfgang Kraus et al., WUNT 252 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 562–75, also in William R. G. Loader, Sexuality and Gender. Collected Essays, WUNT 458 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2021), 69–81.

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language, especially in the Hebrew compared to the Greek which tones down the erotic (14:20–27; 51:13–30). 5 In the context of Proverbs, Wisdom, a summary concept for what is good and right, God’s will, is depicted in terms which generate a Wisdom myth.6 Proverbs 8, in particular, depicts Wisdom as God’s constant companion and helper right at the beginning in the work of creation. “I was beside him, like a master worker; and I was daily his delight, rejoicing before him always, rejoicing in his inhabited world and delighting in the human race” (Prov 8:30– 31). Ben Sira writes similarly of Wisdom (1:4, 9–10; 24:3). According to Ben Sira, Wisdom knows and was part of setting it all up from the beginning. We are thereby being asked to respect the way things were made to be, what was God’s will from the beginning. The author of the Book of Wisdom, using the proverbial Solomon as his persona, hails his intimate relation with Wisdom: “Wisdom the fashioner of all things taught me” (7:22). He can also draw on Stoic understandings of the divine Logos penetrating all things. Wisdom is more mobile than any motion; because of her pureness she pervades and penetrates all things. For she is a breath of the power of God, and a pure emanation of the glory of the Almighty; therefore nothing defiled gains entrance into her. For she is a reflection of eternal light, a spotless mirror of the working of God, and an image of his goodness. Although she is but one, she can do all things, and while remaining in herself, she renews all things; in every generation she passes into holy souls and makes them friends of God, and prophets; for God loves nothing so much as the person who lives with wisdom. (Wis 7:24–28)

Similarly operating at the interface of Jewish thought and Hellenistic philosophy, Philo makes extensive use of the Wisdom myth, sometimes writing

5

On this see Ibolya Balla, “Ben Sira / Sirach,” in William R. G. Loader, Pseudepigrapha on Sexuality: Attitudes towards Sexuality in Apocalypses, Testament, Legends, Wisdom, and Related Literature (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011), 362–98, and especially the section on Wisdom poems, where she also notes the erotic in Sirach 24 juxtaposed to the image of the adulteress in Sirach 23 (pp. 392–96). See also Ibolya Balla, Ben Sira on Family, Gender, and Sexuality, DCLS 8 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2011), 187–217. 6 On the wider mythological background see Martin Scott, Sophia and the Johannine Jesus, JSNTSup 71 (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1992), 37–49, 64–74, who concludes: “There can be little doubt from this brief summary of the proposed ancient Near Eastern influence on the development of Sophia, that such influence, whether it be of Ishtar/Astarte, MAAT or Isis, has indeed shaped the form of the figure to some degree by the time of the writing of the Wisdom of Solomon and Philo” (p. 74).

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of Wisdom,7 primarily confined to the heavenly world,8 but mostly incorporating such Wisdom tradition into his diverse and complex concept of God’s Logos, a term which suited well the intent of speaking of God’s will as Wisdom had done, but also had the advantage of linking God’s Wisdom with the order of creation, an adaptation of Stoic thought. 9 In Philo, unlike in Sirach 24 and 1 Enoch 42, Logos descended, not Wisdom/Sophia (Somn. 1.85–86). 10 Philo can also depict the opposite, the seductress, in part also under the influence of Hellenistic tradition, best portrayed in Xenophon Mem. 2.1, and employs it extensively in Sacr. 21–44, but, unlike Proverbs and Sirach, Philo does not use the image of Wisdom as a seductive lover, preserving the image of seduction only for negative use, though certainly Wisdom is a lover (e.g., Spec. 2.147). 11 Torah and the order of God’s creation were for Philo one and the same.12 But already both Ben Sira and Baruch had closely associated God’s Wisdom with Torah. Thus, having spoken of Wisdom’s origin, descent and invitation (Sir 24:1–22), Ben Sira writes: “All this is the book of the covenant of the Most High God, the law that Moses commanded us as an inheritance for the congregations of Jacob” (Sir 24:23). Similarly, Baruch urges his hearers: “Hear the commandments of life, O Israel; give ear, and learn wisdom” (3:9) and goes on to bemoan failure to do 7 Philo explains: “That which comes after God, even though it were chiefest of all things, occupies a second place, and therefore was termed feminine to express its contrast with the Maker of the Universe who is masculine, and its affinity to everything else” (Fug. 51), but then urges: “Let us, then, pay no heed to the discrepancy in the gender of the words, and say that the daughter of God, even Wisdom, is not only masculine but father, sowing and begetting in souls aptness to learn, discipline, knowledge, sound sense, good and laudable actions” (Fug. 52). 8 Scott, Sophia, 60–61. 9 See the discussion in Scott, Sophia, 58–61; Peter Phillips, The Prologue of the Fourth Gospel: a Sequential Reading, LNTS 294 (London: T&T Clark, 2006), 106–13, who speaks of “an amalgam between Platonic theories about ‘ideas’ and ‘archetypes’, Jewish understanding of ‘the word of God’ and the general Stoic understanding of divine reason” (p. 108); Kenneth L. Schenck, A Brief Guide to Philo (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2005), 59–60; Cristina Termini, “Philo’s Thought within the Context of Middle Judaism,” in The Cambridge Companion to Philo, ed. Adam Kamesar (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 95–103, 97–101; Michael E. Theobald, Das Evangelium nach Johannes. Kapitel 1 – 12 (Regensburg: Pustet, 2009), 118. 10 Scott, Sophia, 61. 11 On this see William R. G. Loader, Philo, Josephus, and the Testaments on Sexuality (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011), 81–83. 12 On this see Reinhard Weber, Das Gesetz im hellenistischen Judentum: Studien zum Verständnis und zur Funktion der Thora von Demetrios bis Pseudo-Phokylides, ARGU 10 (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 2000), 50–54; Carlos Lévi, “Philo’s Ethics,” in The Cambridge Companion to Philo, ed. Adam Kamesar (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 146–71; David Winston, “Philo and Rabbinic Literature,” in The Cambridge Companion to Philo, ed. Adam Kamesar (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 244–47.

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so in Israel’s history. He then reiterates Job 28’s question of where Wisdom is to be found, answering that only God truly knows Wisdom and gave her as a gift to Israel, concluding: “She is the book of the commandments of God, the law that endures forever” (Bar 4:1). To some extent the shifting in Wisdom tradition from Wisdom to Word, as in Philo, but already foreshadowed in Wis 9:1–2; 18:14–16; Sir 24:3, coheres with this development. 13 We have, then, three important strands to the Wisdom myth. The primary one is about Wisdom’s presence with God and her descent. While some will have heard the language of Wisdom as speaking of a divine attribute or as what God communicates, others went beyond personificatory use 14 to the belief that Wisdom was something like God’s highest angel, elevated to a position comparable to the elevation of kings in royal ideology and so able to be referred to as God’s “firstborn son” (ʌȡȦIJંȖȠȞȠȢ ȣੂંȢ: Agr. 51; Conf. 146) or even as “God” (șİંȢ: Somn. 1.229–230; Leg. 3.207–208; QG 2.62; Migr. 5–6) or divine (Migr. 83), without intending to compromise monotheism.15 The second strand is the identification of Wisdom with God’s Law, Torah. The third is the extrapolation of Wisdom’s role in creation as God’s agent in creation and sustaining it.

Wisdom (and Logos) Tradition among Christ-Believers beside John There can be little doubt that beside royal messianic ideology and its plethora of titles and images, the early Christian movement drew upon Wisdom imagery to depict what they came to believe was Christ’s place in the order of creation. 13 Scott, Sophia, observes: “Sophia increasingly take on the role otherwise attributed to the male figure, Yahweh, in the Jewish tradition” (p. 62); see also pp. 76–77; Theobald, Johannes, 118. 14 Cf. James D. G. Dunn, Christology in the Making (London: SCM, 1980), who argues that all uses before John are metaphorical (pp. 163–76); similarly James D. G. Dunn, “Let John be John – A Gospel for Its Time,” in Das Evangelium und die Evangelien, ed. P. Stuhlmacher, WUNT 28 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1983), 309–39, 330–31. In response see A. F. Segal, “Pre-Existence and Incarnation: A Response to Dunn and Holladay,” Semeia 30 (1984): 83–95, arguing that this sets the limit too late (pp. 92–94). 15 On this see C. H. Dodd, The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1953), 280; Larry W. Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity (Grand Rapids, Eerdmans, 2003), 388; Daniel Boyarin, “The Gospel of the Memra: Jewish Binitarianism and the Prologue to John,” HTR 94 (2001): 243– 84, 249. On use of God’s name in this way in apocalyptic tradition see Martin Hengel, Der Sohn Gottes. Die Entstehung der Christologie und die jüdisch-hellenistische Religionsgeschichte (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1977), 73–76; Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ, 361. See also 11QMelch, where Isa. 61:1’s “the acceptable day of the Lord” becomes “the acceptable year of Melchisedek” (11QMelch II, 9); Apoc. Ab. 8–17.

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The notion expressed in the language of royal ideology that through his resurrection God had enthroned Jesus to be the Messiah to come and by extension not only as waiting but as already in power (Acts 3:20; 2:36; Rom 1:3; Heb 1:4–6) could also be expressed through the discourse of Wisdom mythology. Transposed into Wisdom discourse the enthroned royal Messiah is the one who has taken the role attributed to Wisdom as second power in heaven.16 Much of the imagery and designations used of Wisdom were also being used within the very different frame of reference of royal messianism applied to Jesus: “Son of God” (Ps 2:7; Heb 1:5; 5:5; Rom 1:3; 2 Sam 7:14; Heb 1:5); “God” (Ps 45:6–7; Heb 1:8–9; cf. also Isa 9:6); “firstborn” (Ps 89:27; Heb 1:6; Col 1:17); and bearing the name of God (Phil 2:11). Once this identification of Jesus’ status with that of Wisdom and by extension of himself with Wisdom was realised, it was inevitable that by extension and in association with the notion of Jesus having been sent from God (Gal 4:4; Mark 10:45; 12:6; Luke 4:18), followers of Jesus would hail him as like Wisdom or indeed as Wisdom existing from the beginning with God and so as having been engaged in creation. Paul may assume it when he speaks of Jesus as “the wisdom of God” (1 Cor 1:24, 30)17 and writes of Jesus as the one “through whom are all things” (1 Cor 8:6). We see this Wisdom link in these terms often in semi-poetic hymnic traditions incorporated in early Christian letters. Thus, Colossians reads: He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers – all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. (Col 1:15–17)

Similarly, Hebrews: Long ago God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, through whom he also created the worlds. He is the reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word. (Heb 1:1–3)

What fellow Jews claimed of Wisdom, these writers and their traditions claimed of Jesus. Rather than seeing Jesus as a rival to Wisdom, they were seeing Jesus effectively as God’s Wisdom and Word. This would have raised a number questions then and raises a number of questions for us. Did this amount to a claim that as Wisdom entered souls in the past, so Wisdom entered

16 On the complex history and reference of rabbinic mention about the “two powers in heaven,” see the standard discussion in Alan F. Segal, Two Powers in Heaven: Early Rabbinic Reports about Christianity and Gnosticism, SJLA 25 (Leiden: Brill, 1977). 17 Marianne Meye Thompson, John, NTL (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2015), 38.

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Jesus of Nazareth who was then seen or sent as Wisdom’s spokesperson? Or did it mean something more? The former interpretation appears to lie behind the Q tradition found in Luke: Therefore also the Wisdom of God said, “I will send them prophets and apostles, some of whom they will kill and persecute,” so that this generation may be charged with the blood of all the prophets shed since the foundation of the world, from the blood of Abel to the blood of Zechariah, who perished between the altar and the sanctuary. Yes, I tell you, it will be charged against this generation. (Luke 11:49–51)

Wisdom sent the prophets and so by implication also sent Jesus. The same understanding probably informs Luke’s version of the Q tradition which has Jesus associate his rejection with rejection of John the Baptist, where he declares: “Nevertheless wisdom is vindicated by all her children” (7:35). Interestingly, Matthew appears to have revised both these Q traditions. In the first he has deleted the reference to Wisdom, so that it is Jesus, himself, who utters these words (23:34–36). He is not by implication an emissary of Wisdom, but is himself the sender, assuming Wisdom’s role. In the second the implication that Jesus and John the Baptist may be seen as Wisdom’s children is removed by reformulation: “Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds” (11:19). There are a few further indicators in his Gospel that Matthew has identified Jesus with Wisdom. Thus the very next verse after Jesus’ declaration as sender of prophets, sages, and scribes, in 23:34–36, Matthew has Jesus declare: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” (Matt 23:37). Earlier Matthew has Jesus assume what in Ben Sira is the call of Wisdom to people to take up the yoke of Torah: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matt 11:28–30; cf. Sir 51:26). In Matthew, too, the invitation is closely associated in the context with Jesus as expounder of Torah. There immediately follow the controversy stories about right interpretation of Sabbath law (12:1–14). While Wisdom is a relatively minor theme in Matthew,18 identifying Jesus closely with Torah is a major theme and has him claim that he came in no way to abolish Torah but rather to

18

Note the cautious discussion in Ulrich Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, 4 vols., EKKNT 1 (Zürich: Benziger; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1985–2002), 3.370– 71; see also Scott, Sophia, 86–87.

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uphold it (5:17–19). His Mosaic Sermon on the Mount is an exposition of Torah.19 Therein is a strong claim to continuity. One of the options for the early Christian movement in relating their claims about Jesus to the Wisdom tradition was to see him as Wisdom’s apostle as in Luke and probably Q, and as Torah’s advocate, developed especially strongly in Matthew. Another was to identify Jesus himself with Wisdom, so that Jesus as Wisdom sent prophets in the past, probably implied in Matthew’s redaction of the Q saying considered above.

Wisdom (and Logos) Tradition in the Gospel according to John Wisdom/Logos and Jesus The prologue of the Fourth Gospel, written to guide the hearer towards a proper understanding of all that follows,20 stands under the influence of speculation about Wisdom. This is widely recognised. 21 As noted above, behind the prologue of the Fourth Gospel might well be a Jewish Wisdom tradition which combined the elements of Wisdom as in the beginning with God, God’s agent in creation, and of Wisdom’s coming to Israel over history.22 That early form may well have shared the pessimism of 1 Enoch 42. Many speculate that at some stage someone transferred the imagery to depict the identification of Jesus with Wisdom. Accordingly, as Wisdom/Logos he was in the beginning with God, God’s agent in creation and able to be called “God,” with God as was Wisdom, but without this implying ditheism. The tradition would then have depicted his visiting Israel in its history and facing rejection and then his final visitation in the person of Jesus of Nazareth, only to face rejection again, 19

See William R. G. Loader, Jesus’ Attitude towards the Law. A Study of the Gospels, WUNT 2.97 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997), 165–87. 20 For critical discussion of views seeing the prologue as secondary see Jean Zumstein, “Der Prolog als Schwelle zum vierten Evangelium,” in Der Johannesprolog, ed. Günter Kruck (Darmstadt: WBG, 2009), 49–75. See also the discussion of the prologue in William R. G. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel: Structure and Issues in Johannine Christology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017), 316–37, 371–76. 21 See Craig A. Evans, Word and Glory: On the Exegetical and Theological Background of John’s Prologue, JSNTSup 89 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1993), 77–114; Zumstein, “Prolog,” 64; Johannes Beutler, “Der Johannes-Prolog – Ouvertüre des Johannesevangeliums,” in Der Johannesprolog, ed. Günter Kruck (Darmstadt: WBG, 2009), 77–106, 84–85. 22 See, for instance, John Painter, The Quest for the Messiah, 2nd ed. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1993), 137–62, who argues that the author employed a sectarian Jewish hymn to Wisdom, which had been already used in Christianised form in Hellenistic Christian communities. See also Boyarin, “Gospel of the Memra,” 276, who sees 1:1–5 as originally a Jewish hymn to wisdom.

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except for those who accepted him and thereby became God’s true children. Some, indeed, still read the received text as alluding to the Word’s engagement with Israel over history either up to 1:12–13, which assures sonship to those who responded, or including it, so that the coming in Jesus receives first mention in 1:14 when the Word became flesh. 23 In its present form the prologue is best read as alluding to Jesus’ coming throughout from 1:4–5 onwards.24 For hearers who believed in Jesus, already in the opening verse the Logos would have been identified as Jesus, who as the Word was “God” with God. Already the reference to him as the light in contrast to darkness would have been heard as alluding to his coming into the world as Jesus of Nazareth,25 and to his rejection.26 Thus his coming into the world as the true light (1:9–10), his coming to his own (1:11–13), and his becoming flesh (1:14), all refer to the one event, traditionally identified as his incarnation, and not to stages or separate appearances over history. 27 This is why already in relation to his coming as the light the author refers to the witness of John the Baptist (1:6–8). The rejection by his own people (1:11) accordingly refers to the response to Jesus during his earthly ministry. Only those who accept him qualify as God’s children (1:12–13); “his own people” are not, a serious differentiation, reflecting a disaffection which recalls 1 Enoch 42. The presence here of Logos/Word rather than Wisdom, grammatically feminine and traditionally depicted as female, can be explained on a number of grounds. Obviously, Logos better fits a depiction of the male Jesus. The allusion to the Genesis account of creation through the phrase “In the beginning” also suggests that the use of Word is echoing “God Spoke.”28 God’s word was regularly personified (e.g., Gen 15:1, 4) including in statements that 23 The position represented in the Greek fathers and much of church tradition and in recent times again, for instance, by Martin Hengel, “The Prologue of the Gospel of John as the Gateway to Christological Truth,” in The Gospel of John and Christian Theology, ed. R. Bauckham and Carl Mosser (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), 265–94, 272–82; Boyarin, “Gospel of the Memra,” 262–72; Scott, Sophia, 104–105. As the likely meaning in the author’s source see Painter, Quest, 137–39. 24 J. Ramsey Michaels, The Gospel of John, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), writes: “What is striking is that he passes over the whole ‘biblical’ period (what Christians today call the ‘Old Testament’) in silence” (p. 56, similarly, pp. 63–64). See also Beutler, “Johannes-Prolog,” 78–82, 84–89; Theobald, Johannes, 134–35; Hartwig Thyen, Das Johannesevangelium, HNT 6 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 84. 25 Johannes Beutler, Das Johannesevangelium (Freiburg: Herder, 2013), 88. 26 See also Rudolf Schnackenburg, The Gospel According to St. John. Vol. 1 (London: Burns and Oates, 1968), 227; Beutler, Johannesevangelium, 86. 27 See also Michaels, John, 76; Beutler, Johannesevangelium, 97. 28 Richard Bauckham, “Monotheism and Christology in the Gospel of John,” in Contours of Christology in the New Testament, ed. Richard Longenecker, MNTS 7 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), 148–66, sees the author upholding Jewish monotheism by retelling Gen 1:1–4 in 1:1–5 and referring to God’s word impersonally as in Ps 33:6 (pp. 149–51).

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refer to its coming to kings or prophets (e.g., 1 Sam 15:1; Isa 38:4; Jer 1:2, 4, 11).29 There may also be some influence from Memra speculation if it had developed by this time.30 The Parables of Enoch speak similarly of the “oath” identified with “the secret name” and depict the role of the “oath” in creation (1 En. 69:13–25).31 There may also be some influence from, or more likely parallel development to, what we see in Philo where Wisdom tradition is enriched by Stoic Logos tradition, probably accounting for the motif of “all things” and also of penetrating or sustaining all things. 32 Multiple influences are likely, but arguably two are of primary significance: Wisdom speculation and claims about the status of Jesus of Nazareth. Wisdom/Logos, Jesus, and Torah His becoming flesh in the person of Jesus made his glory as Son of God visible for all to see (John 1:14). The allusion to his pitching tent among us, tabernacling among us (1:14), alludes to the claim in what follows in the Gospel that now Wisdom’s dwelling is not in a temple (cf. Sir 24:3–10, 19–23; Bar 3:29–4:2; and by contrast: 1 En. 42:1–2), but in the person of the Logos and coheres with the later depictions of him as the replacement for the temple (John 2:19–21; cf. also 4:21–24). 33 These claims are also framed by allusion to the account of Moses meeting God on Sinai in Exod 33:7–23; 34:6, 34 which is echoed in Sir 24:8; 43:31.35 “Grace and truth” (ਲ Ȥ੺ȡȚȢ țĮ੿ ਲ ਕȜ੾șİȚĮ 1:17; 29

See also Thompson, John, 37–39; Phillips, Prologue, 114–16. On this see C. T. R. Hayward, “The Holy Name of the God of Moses and the Prologue of the Fourth Gospel,” NTS 25 (1978): 16–23; Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ, 366, 381–86; Boyarin, “Gospel of the Memra,” who argues that the Memra in the targums “is not a mere name, but an actual divine entity, or mediator” (p. 255). 31 This section comes at the end of what were probably interpolated Noachic fragments (64:1 – 69:25) but the present sequence in 69:26 refers to the revealing of the name of the Son of Man, making a link in the preserved text between the Son of Man and the “Oath” associated with the secret name and active like Wisdom elsewhere in creation. 32 James D. G. Dunn, The Epistles to the Colossians and Philemon, NIGTC (Grand Rapids; Eerdmans, 1996), observes: “Such use of the prepositions ‘from,’ ‘by,’ ‘through,’ ‘in,’ and ‘to’ or ‘for’ was widespread in talking about God and the cosmos” (p. 91), citing Ps-Aristotle, De mundo 6; Seneca, Epist. 65.8; Marcus Aurelius, Med. 4.23; and its use in Philo, Cher. 125–126. 33 Stephen T. Um, The Theme of Temple Christology in John’s Gospel, LNTS 312 (London: T&T Clark, 2006), 155. 34 On this see Beutler, “Johannes-Prolog,” 95–96; John A. Dennis, Jesus’ Death and the Gathering of True Israel: The Johannine Appropriation of Restoration Theology in the Light of John 11.47–52, WUNT 2.217 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 142–44, who sees the author using Exodus to claim that in Jesus God’s glory has been restored to his people in a new Exodus. 35 See also Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 104; Jörg Frey, “God’s Dwelling on Earth: ‘Shekinah-Theology in Revelation 21 and in the Gospel of John,” in John’s Gospel and 30

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similarly “full of grace and truth” ʌȜ੾ȡȘȢ Ȥ੺ȡȚIJȠȢ țĮ੿ ਕȜȘșİ઀ĮȢ 1:14), referring in Exodus to the gift of Torah (ʺʮʙ ʓ ʎʠʓʥ ʣ ʓʱ६ʧʚʡ ʓ ʸʔ ʍʥ Exod 34:6; cf. LXX ʌȠȜȣ੼ȜİȠȢ țĮ੿ ਕȜȘșȚȞંȢ), now refer to the gift which Jesus brought. Jesus is juxtaposed to Moses. Only the Son has seen the Father and made him known (1:18). Strikingly, instead of an identification of Wisdom and Torah as in Ben Sira and Baruch, and of Wisdom, Torah, and Jesus, which is close to what Matthew achieves, we have in 1:14–18 a juxtaposition which depicts Torah as God’s gift, beside which and in place of which has come “grace and truth through Jesus Christ” (1:17): Ȥ੺ȡȚȞ ਕȞIJ੿ Ȥ੺ȡȚIJȠȢ, which one may translate as “one gift of grace in place of another” (1:16).36 There are good reasons why people want to resist the notion of replacement with its implication of supersession and they reflect values I share, but they are not good reasons exegetically. ਕȞIJ઀ here carries its usual meaning of “instead of’ “in place of.” 37 Attempts to find an exception in Philo, and so to argue that the meaning here is supplementation not replacement,38 fail to convince because they fail to see that Philo, Post. 145, cited in support, also assumes this meaning.39 It is better to let historical texts say what they say and disagree with them than to try to have them say what we would prefer.

Intimations of Apocalyptic, ed. Catrin H. Williams and Christopher Rowland (London: T&T Clark, 2013), 79–103, 94–96. 36 Ashton, Understanding, writes: “In the Fourth Gospel the Logos (= Wisdom), just as in Baruch, ‘appeared on earth and lived among men,’ but took the place of the Law as the source of life to all who accept the message of Jesus” (p. 383); similarly James F. McGrath, John’s Apologetic Christology, SNTSMS 111 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 153; Scott, Sophia, 159–61. 37 See also Ruth B. Edwards, “Ȥ੺ȡȚȞ ਕȞIJ੿ Ȥ੺ȡȚIJȠȢ (John 1.16): Grace and the Law in the Johannine Prologue,” JSNT 32 (1988): 3–15; Mary L. Coloe, God Dwells with Us: Temple Symbolism in the Fourth Gospel (Collegeville: Liturgical, 2001), 28; Sanghee Michael Ahn, The Christological Witness Function of Old Testament Characters in the Gospel of John (Eugen: Wipf and Stock, 2014), 241–44; Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 103–104. 38 E.g., Beutler, “Johannes-Prolog,” 97; Beutler, Johannesevangelium, 95; Theobald, Johannes, 133–35; Michaels, John, 90; Martin Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora: Überlegungen zur Bedeutung der Tora im Johannesevangelium,” KD 54 (2008): 14–36, 28– 29; Craig S. Keener, The Gospel of John. A Commentary, 2 vols. (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2005), 421. 39 Philo, Post. 145 reads: “Wherefore God ever causes his earliest gifts to cease before their recipients are glutted and wax insolent; and storing them up for the future gives others in their stead (ਦIJ੼ȡĮȢ ਕȞIJ’ ਥțİ઀ȞȦȞ), and a third supply to replace (ਕȞIJ઀) the second, and ever new in place of (ਕȞIJ઀) earlier boons, sometimes different in kind, sometimes the same.” On this see Konrad Pfuff, Die Einheit des Johannesprologs (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 2013), 99– 103; earlier: I. de la Potterie, La Vérité dans Saint Jean, 2 vols., AnBib 73/74 (Rome: BibInst, 1977), 143.

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This perspective of identifying Jesus with Wisdom but not with Torah is reflected consistently throughout the Gospel.40 It informs a series of major claims which the author has Jesus make of himself, especially claims that were usually made of Wisdom as Torah.41 This disaffected community is to be understood as trying to deal with its pain of dissent and separation from fellow Jews by justifying its existence through the same Scriptures which they share and doing so by arguing that they predict that Jesus would come to replace Torah as the primary authority for faith. Torah and the Scriptures, accordingly, assume the same function of being a witness as John the Baptist.42 They have therefore transferred claims made about Wisdom-Torah and make them now of Jesus whom they identify as Wisdom/Logos, but not as Torah. In his person he accordingly supersedes the temple, they claim.43 The symbolic contrast between the old and the new in 1:14–18 and throughout the Gospel entails no disparagement of the old (cf. Mark 7:1–5; Heb 7:18; 10:4; also Rom 2:25–29). The words ੖IJȚ ੒ ȞંȝȠȢ įȚ੹ ȂȦȨı੼ȦȢ ਥįંșȘ, ਲ Ȥ੺ȡȚȢ țĮ੿ ਲ ਕȜ੾șİȚĮ įȚ੹ ੉ȘıȠ૨ ȋȡȚıIJȠ૨ ਥȖ੼ȞİIJȠ (“because the Law was given through Moses, grace and truth came through Jesus Christ”) (1:17) are a juxtaposition, not technically a contrast since there is no į੼ in the Greek, unless we follow p66, which contains it.44 It is a positive statement about two gifts of God, both good, but one better than the other45 and replacing it.46 Numerology suggests the number of six pitchers of water for purification in John 2:6–10 refers to what is incomplete, but without any hint of disparagement

40

See Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 443–52. Scott, Sophia, 159, sees the author countering identification of Wisdom with Torah. Cf. Boyarin, “Gospel of the Memra,” 280. 41 On imagery now used of Jesus/Wisdom/Word once used of Torah/Wisdom, see also Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John, 2 vols., AB 29/29A (New York: Doubleday, 1966, 1970), cxxii–cxxv; Cornelis Bennema, The Power of Saving Wisdom, WUNT 2.148 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), who writes of the Spirit as “life-giving cognitive agent, as the agent of life-bearing wisdom and understanding” (p. 180). 42 Stefan Schapdick, “Autorität ohne Inhalt: Zum Mosebild des Johannesevangeliums,” ZNW 97 (2006): 177–206, 191. 43 Coloe, God Dwells with Us, writes: “The glory of the God of Israel, revealed in Jesus, permanently leaves the temple. The cultic institutions of Israel are left emptied of the reality they once symbolized and celebrated” (p. 155, similarly, pp. 65, 119–22); Andrew T. Lincoln, The Gospel According to Saint John, BNTC 4 (London: Continuum, 2005), 77. 44 Keener, John, notes however that “the lack of adversative conjunction here does not eliminate the contrast” (p. 422). “Context must dictate the force of contrast” (p. 422). 45 See also Lincoln, John, 75–76; Wolfgang Kraus, “Johannes und das alte Testament. Überlegungen zum Umgang mit der Schrift im Johannesevangelium im Horizont Biblischer Theologie,” ZNW 88 (1997): 1–23, 18. 46 John Ashton, The Gospel of John and Christian Origins (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2014), comments: “In attributing grace and truth to Christ rather than to Moses, the author of this sentence knew – cannot but have known – that he was dissociating himself from Judaism in any of its forms” (p. 22).

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of the ritual as such. The claim that Jesus, himself is the new temple, raised after three days (2:19–22), similarly in no way disparages the temple which John’s Jesus speaks of as his Father’s house (2:16–17) and who attends its festivals (2:13–14; 5:1; 6:4; 7:8–9; 12:12). Of course, those unsympathetic to the author’s claims would not have agreed. Replacing the temple is not just a post factum processing of the debacle of 70 CE47 but part of a claim that what was foreshadowed in the old has now become reality in Jesus, all part of God’s plan.48 Jesus is the new temple, a key theme in the Gospel.49 Jews are not disparaged over their relationship with the Samaritans (4:9). The author mentions purification in relation to the Passover (11:55; 18:31), a motif informing the discussion of the foot-washing (13:8). As Vahrenhorst notes, while there is an implied criticism that the leaders are overly concerned with such observance (18:28) when they should have been concerned with the impending killing of Jesus, the Passover with its purity provisions is not being demeaned.50 Nicodemus also charged that “the Jews” acted unlawfully in relation to Jesus (7:50–51). Similarly, concern with not leaving a corpse hanging overnight and on the Sabbath (19:31) and concern with burial after the Sabbath (19:40, 42) imply no disparagement. The author even believes the high priest could have prophetic inspiration (11:51). The author has Jesus tell the Samaritan woman: “The hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem” (4:23), adding: “But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him” (4:25). So much of Torah’s provisions relate to the temple cult. Its replacement implies also their replacement, quite differently from the situation of fellow Jews who needed to accommodate Torah observance to the new reality of living without the temple and found creative ways of doing do. As Coloe observes, “A possible reason why the temple cleansing is so early in the Fourth Gospel is because this pericope provides the reader with both an explicit hermeneutical key for interpreting the Johannine Jesus as the new

47

On this see Dennis, Jesus’ Death and the Gathering, 183; Benny Thettayil, In Spirit and Truth: An Exegetical Study of John 4:19–26 and a Theological Investigation of the Replacement Theme in the Fourth Gospel, CBET 46 (Leuven: Peeters, 2007), 347. 48 Thomas Söding, “‘Ich und der Vater sind eins’ (Joh 10,30). Die johanneische Christologie vor dem Anspruch des Hauptgebotes (Dtn 6,4f),” ZNW 93 (2002): 177–99, 179. 49 Ashton, John, 142; Ulrich Busse, Das Johannesevangelium: Bildlichkeit, Diskurs und Ritual, BETL 162 (Leuven: Peeters, 2002), 323–66, 332–34; Coloe, God Dwells with Us, 23–27. 50 Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 18–19; similarly, Thomas Söding, “Die Macht der Wahrheit und das Reich der Freiheit: Zur johanneischen Deutung des Pilatus-Prozess (Joh 18,28 – 19,16),” ZTK 93 (1996): 35–58, 39.

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‘temple,’ and a paradigm for further scenes in the use of Johannine symbolism and misunderstandings.”51 The exchange with Nicodemus, a sympathetic hearer, in 3:1–10 focuses on two different levels of perception matching also the past and the present in terms of the history of God’s gifts to Israel enunciated in the prologue (1:16– 17). Stereotypically the author depicts Nicodemus as failing to move beyond the level of the flesh in terms of his perceptions (3:6; cf. also 12:42). The flesh is also not something evil in John, but God’s creation. It is, however, to be contrasted with the higher reality of the Spirit. What at the level of the flesh produced word and structures, Torah, pointing forward to what truly matters, has now, at the level of the Spirit, reached fulfilment, claims the author, in Jesus. Nicodemus needs to be born from above to be able to see the kingdom of God (3:3), indeed to enter it (3:5), just as the prologue had declared that only those accepting Jesus the Word had the right to become children of God (1:12– 13), a claim bound to give offence to fellow Jews not part of the movement, including sympathetic ones like Nicodemus (see also 2:23–25). Similarly, as Torah could be seen as like a well of water (cf. Ps 36:10a; Prov 18:4; Isa 12:2; CD VI, 7), Jesus now offers the water of life.52 There is a similar shift in relation to the feasts, but also to key ancient stories of Israel’s faith. The author uses the imagery of the Feast of Tabernacles, poured water, and light, to portray a new pouring of water (7:37–38; cf. Ezek 47:1–12; Zech 14:8), and Jesus as the light (8:12; cf. Zech 14:7). 53 Aware that manna and bread were symbols of Torah, the author has Jesus instead declare: “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world” (6:32– 33).54 Earlier he had complained: “You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that testify on my behalf. Yet 51

Coloe, God Dwells with Us, 84. On this, cf. Andrea Taschl-Erber, “Christological Transformation of the Motif of ‘Living Water’ (John 4:7): Prophetic messiah Expectations and Wisdom Tradition,” in Reading the Gospel of John’s Christology as Jewish Messianism: Royal, Prophetic, and Divine Messiahs, ed. Benjamin Reynolds and Gabrielle Boccaccini, AJEC 106 (Leiden: Brill, 2018), 248–70. 53 Lincoln, John, 77; Coloe, God Dwells with Us, 155; Jacob Chanikuzhy, Jesus, the Eschatological Temple, CBET 58 (Leuven: Peeters, 2012), 370, 383–95; Catherine Cory, “Wisdom’s Rescue: A New Reading of the Tabernacles Discourse (John 7:1–8:59),” JBL 116 (1997): 95–116, 96. 54 Schapdick, “Autorität ohne Inhalt,” 194; Andreas Lindemann, “Mose und Christus: Zum Verständnis des Gesetzes im Johannesevangelium,” in Das Urchristentum, in seiner literarischen Geschichte: FS J. Becker, ed. Ulrich Mell and Ulrich B. Müller, BZNW 100 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1999), 309–34, 318; Tom Thatcher, “Remembering Jesus: John’s Negative Christology,” in The Messiah in the Old and New Testaments, ed. Stanley E. Porter (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 165–89, 180. 52

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you refuse to come to me to have life” (5:39–40). Had they believed the Scriptures, John’s Jesus charges, they would have believed him (5:46). As such they, or their spokesperson, Moses, will charge the unbelieving Jews with not having believed on the son to whom they pointed (5:45–47). According to the author Jesus, alone, is bread and light and life, not Moses, not Torah. And they alone who have accepted him are the children of God (1:12–13), born from above (3:3–8) and those who do not are now deemed, what is even more offensive, children of the devil (8:44). The “I am” sayings, where Jesus presents himself as bread (6:35, 42, 48, 51), light (8:12; 9:5), life (11:25) and “the way, the truth, and the life” (14:6; cf. also gate: 10:7, 9; good shepherd: 10:11, 14; [true] vine: 15:1, 5), images associated with Torah and Israel, make an exclusive claim.55 When reinforced by addition of the word “true,” they are set by implication in contrast to what the author believes are now false claims. “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (14:6). These considerations count against an understanding of the Fourth Gospel according to which the author would have seen Jesus supplementing Torah and the associated rituals and practices of his fellow Jews rather than supplanting them. Such an understanding would see the Johannine Jew as not only observing the feasts and purification rituals but also celebrating in Jesus the coming of light and life and water – and wine, a both-and approach. While this would not be feasible with the temple and its range of associated rituals because of 70 CE, that was true for everyone else, too. Clearly the ethical assumptions of the Decalogue remain intact: like adultery, murder, and theft, and also idolatry.56 Are we really to imagine that Sabbath observance was given up? This would be socially most unlikely. But does this mean everything remains in place so that these are still Torah observant Jews but have an even greater loyalty to supplement it?57 55 See Udo Schnelle, Das Evangelium nach Johannes, THKNT 4 (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1998), 125; Raymond E. Brown, An Introduction to the Gospel of John, edited by Francis J. Moloney, ABRL (New York: Doubleday, 2003), 261–62. 56 Jey J. Kanagaraj, “The Implied Ethics of the Fourth Gospel: A Reinterpretation of the Decalogue,” TynBul 52 (2001): 33–60; similarly, M. Morgen, “‘Votre Loi, mon commandement’: Etude de la place accordée à la Loi et au commandement dans l’évangile de Jean,” in Raconter, Interpréter, Annoncer. Parcours de Nouveau Testament: Mélanges offerts à Daniel Marguerat pour son 60 ème anniversaire, ed. E. Steffek et al., MdB 47 (Genève: Labor et Fides, 2003), 195–206, 199, 205–206. 57 Cf. Marianne Meye Thompson, The God of the Gospel of John (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), who writes: “Thus, rather than saying that ‘Jesus supersedes the great pilgrim festivals,’ it would be more precise to argue that even as the great pilgrim festivals celebrate God’s work, so too Christians commemorated God’s acts of salvation – here, the act of eschatological salvation in Christ” (p. 219); similarly Dorothy A. Lee, Flesh and Glory: Symbolism, Gender and Theology in the Gospel of John (New York: Crossroad, 2002), 68, 84; Brian D. Johnson, “‘Salvation is from the Jews’: Judaism in the Gospel of

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I consider this unlikely. While it is true that on a couple of occasions the Johannine Jesus appears to enter halakic debate, confronting one interpretation of Torah with another (5:8–10, 16; 7:19–24; 9:4), the tone given by the author shows Jesus above the Law as God’s Son and just playing his opponents at their own game.58 While employing Jewish speculation about what God did or did not do on the seventh day (Gen 2:3; Exod 20:11; Philo, Cher. 86–89; Leg. 1.5–6; Aristeas 210; Mek. Šabb. 2:25; Gen. Rab. 11.5, 11, 12 ), in effect Jesus makes the claim to override the Sabbath law because of his status as God’s Son.59 In John 9, Jesus’ status overrides Sabbath law (9:4). 60 Similarly in 7:19– 24, while employing halakic argument by pointing to circumcision on the Sabbath (cf. t. Šabb. 15,16; b. Yoma 85b; m. Šabb. 18:3; 19:2–3; m. Ned. 3:11), the author has Jesus use it to expose inconsistency on the part of his critics not to profile himself as expert interpreter of Torah.61 The references to “Your Law” (8:17; 10:34) imply distance, though not disparagement.62 Its use in the dispute in 10:22–39, where Jesus asserts that Scripture cannot be abrogated, is to justify his claim, not in to assert Torah observance. Similarly Jesus is shown in 8:17 as challenging his opponents on the basis of their own law.63 It is difficult then to argue that this applies only to Jesus, but that his own must remain Torah observant.64 Certainly his instruction to them in the last discourses and elsewhere gives no such indication. At most it uses core ethical values of Torah but then transposes them into a new key, where he, not Torah, is the authority (13:34–35; 15:9–17), and in any case such ethical values were widely assumed also across other cultures of the time. It would have been possible for the author to have employed the myth as Matthew may have done, or at least had the basis for doing. That is, Jesus as John,” in New Currents through John. A Global Perspective, ed. F. Lozada and Tom Thatcher, SBLRBS 54 (Atlanta: SBL, 2006), 83–99, 90, 98–99. 58 Lincoln, John, 75; Jürgen Becker, Johanneisches Christentum (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 185; Ashton, John, 287–99 and see the discussion in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 449–50. 59 Lincoln, John, 75. 60 Stephen Pancaro, The Law in the Fourth Gospel: The Torah and the Gospel, Moses and Jesus, Judaism and Christianity According to the Fourth Gospel, NovTSup 42 (Leiden: Brill, 1975), 18–19. 61 Becker, Johanneisches Christentum, 185; Lincoln, John, 75; Ashton, John, 287–99; cf. Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 22; Schapdick, “Autorität ohne Inhalt,” 198–99. 62 Lincoln, John, 76; Kraus, “Johannes und das alte Testament,” 18. Cf. Jörg Augenstein, “‘Euer Gesetz’ – Ein Pronomen und die johanneische Haltung zum Gesetz,” ZNW 88 (1997): 311–13, who points to how Moses and Joshua spoke to the people: “Your God, your fathers, your land” (Deut 2:30; 4:23; Josh 1:11, 13–14); similarly Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 424; Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 25–26; Schapdick, “Autorität ohne Inhalt,” 204. 63 Rudolf Bultmann, Das Evangelium des Johannes, KEK (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1968; 1st ed., 1941), 212. 64 Cf. Pancaro, Law, 15–19, 29, 45–47; Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 394.

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Wisdom promotes Torah as the basis for life, including with the insistence that not a stroke of it is to be discarded (5:17–19), and also have Torah upheld as the basis for future judgement. John does indeed embrace belief in a future resurrection and day of judgement by works/deeds (5:28–29; 6:39–40, 44; 12:48), but the criterion which it daringly claims as enabling people already to experience resurrection (5:25–27) and pass the test of judgement (3:18–19; 5:24) is whether they accept Jesus or not. Exclusive Christology and Blasphemy The exclusive claim of John’s Christology enunciated in the declaration in 14:6 that he is the only way to the Father receives elaboration in what then follows: “If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him” (14:7). This echoes the claim in the prologue: “No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known” (1:18; similarly, 6:46). These are extraordinary claims. Little wonder that fellow Jews cried blasphemy. He not only claims not to need to keep Sabbath law but also claims God as his father not in the sense of any other good Jew, but as actually a being of the divine family (5:16–18). 65 This is analogous to the way fellow Jews might have spoken of Wisdom but much more problematic because he is a human being. The rebuttal of the allegation that he thereby makes himself equal to God points to his subordination to God and never the reverse, him to God, never God to him, but remains at the level of a claim about his being not just human but part of the divine family, God’s unique Son. The dance of this dispute on stage in 5:16–28 returns for a second round in 10:30–39, which begins with Jesus’ claim, “The Father and I are one” (10:30).66 Its probably deliberate ambiguity evokes the charge of blasphemy, that he a human being is making himself God’s equal (10:33). The defence is again that there is a unity of will, expressed through Jesus’ doing God’s will and not vice versa, and that people or perhaps angels can be called gods in allusion to Psalm 82. Clearly, however, the assumption is that he is not just an obedient Jew, a man, but embedded in the divine family (like Wisdom). 67 Hearers informed by the prologue know this since it declares right from the start that the Logos was God and was with God (1:1–2), and ends similarly by referring to God the only Son in intimacy with the Father (1:18). 68 It was 65 See Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 313–15, 331–37; William R. G. Loader, “John 5:19–47: A Deviation from Envoy Christology,” in Studies in the Gospel of John and Its Christology: Festschrift Gilbert van Belle, ed. J. Verheyden et al., BETL 265 (Leuven: Peeters, 2014), 149–64, chapter 5 in this volume. 66 See Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 337–45. 67 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 305–309. 68 Taking șİંȢ as the preferred reading [p66 ஹ* B; v.l. ȣੂંȢ A].

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tolerable, as we have seen, to have Wisdom given divine titles, as it was also tolerable in the divine kingship tradition which informed royal ideology and then royal messianism to address the king as “God” and “Son of God” (Pss 2:7; 45:6–7; 89:27). There is evidence of unease about what was seen to be a belief in two powers in heaven in relation to Wisdom speculation. But for John’s Jesus, as a human being, to make these claims of himself or have them made about him was understandably something far worse and intolerable for most fellow Jews.69 Most of the constructed dialogues now set on the dramatic stage by the creativity of the author of John’s Gospel70 deal with these exclusive and outrageous claims, sometimes with bitter exchanges which alas inspired hate in generations to follow and were certainly a lot less than loving and respectful despite the norms of robust interchange of the day. 71 Christology and Messianology Royal messianic expectation had clearly played a role in this faith community72 and in itself would be ground for dispute, but not at the intensity of what now meets us in John. 73 The author and already the tradition before him had taken the claim, “Jesus is the Messiah,” the focus of numerous responses especially in John 1 and transposed it into a higher key, so that, while still bearing traces of its conceptual origins (e.g., “Son of God”, “King of Israel”, and probably “Lamb of God”),74 it now served the common melody which sings of God’s sending his divine Son to offer life. It is, in that sense, integrated within a more developed Christology, which at its heart is a christological adaptation of the Wisdom tradition. 75 As such, transposed into that higher key, believing in Jesus as Messiah can still sum up the author’s aims: “These are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name” (20:31). “Messiah, Son of God” –

69 Boyarin, “Gospel of the Memra,” writes: “What marks the Fourth Gospel as a new departure in the history of Judaism is not to be found in its Logos theology at all but in its incarnational Christology, and that that very historical departure, or rather advent, is iconically symbolized in the narrative itself” (p. 281). 70 See Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 411–13; Jo-Ann A. Brant, Dialogue and Drama: Elements of Greek Tragedy in the Fourth Gospel (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2004). 71 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 469–70. 72 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 436–39. 73 See Adele Reinhartz, “Judaism in the Gospel of John,” Int 63 (2009): 382–93, 389; Michael E. Theobald, “Das Johannesevangelium – Zeugnis eines synagogalen ‘Judenchristentums’?” in Paulus und Johannes. Exegetische Studien zur paulinischen und johanneischen Theologie und Literatur, ed. D. Sänger et al., WUNT 198 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 107–58, 152–53. 74 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 149–56, 436–39. 75 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 40–145.

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yes, provided it is understood as representing all of the above in the Gospel, namely that he is the Son who came to make the Father known (1:18).76 I am making this argument in the context of the broader question of Reading the Gospel of John’s Christology as a form of Jewish Messianism. A narrow understanding of “messianism” would focus on hope for a royal messiah or perhaps also hope for a priestly one. Alternatively, “messianism” might be used loosely to allude to Jewish eschatological expectation in general. If we probe the brief observations about Johannine Christology above, we might reach the following conclusions and face the following questions. Royal messiahship could indeed, as we have seen, lead to Jesus being hailed with lofty titles, even as “God.” I do not think that this was the trajectory that led to claims of this sort being made in John. Rather, Jewish Wisdom mythology appears to have been a significant overlay and inspiration, enabling the author and his community before him to integrate messianic claims within a broader and to some degree less nationalistic category than messiahship. Was there a pathway from belief that the royal messiah would teach and enact just law to the belief that Jesus as royal messiah must have also done the same? Royal messianic expectations were often associated with visions of the reestablishment of justice/righteousness/right order and sometimes the renewal of the temple (4Q174/4QFlor 1–2 I, 1–13; Pss. Sol. 17:21–29; cf. Isa 9:6–7; 11:1–5). In the Parables of Enoch these messianic roles are also associated with the Son of Man (1 En. 48:10–49:2). Such expectation would have assumed that it was one and the same law which now is not obeyed and then will be. I find, however, no trace of the eschatological expectation of a renewed or new authoritative interpretation of Torah in John. Jesus is not portrayed like the Teacher of Righteousness in the sectarian literature of Qumran as exponent of Torah. Conflicts over Torah or Conflicts over Christology The evidence as I have assessed it elsewhere indicates that the historical Jesus’ disputes with some of his fellow Jews was not over Torah’s validity but over its application and what mattered most.77 Q, followed by Matthew and Luke, has him affirm every stroke (Matt 5:18; Luke 16:17), with an emphasis on the centrality of righteousness and compassion for the needy (Matt 23:23; Luke 76 McGrath, Christology, 136–37, 140, who sees here the tradition of Jesus’ being exalted to God’s right hand refracted through Wisdom (cf. Wis 9:4). I am not however convinced that using the Logos/Wisdom tradition was an attempt “to serve as part of a defence of the messiahship of Jesus as understood by many, if not indeed most or all, early Christians” (p. 145). 77 See William R. G. Loader, “Jesus and the Law,” in Handbook for the Study of the Historical Jesus, ed. T. Holmén and Stanley E. Porter, 4 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 4.2745– 72.

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11:42). 78 There were, of course, early conflicts within the Jewish communities between believers in Jesus who were prepared to waive the requirement of circumcision (Acts 15:1–2, 5; Gal 2:1–5; 5:2–12) and more radically, all the laws deemed to discriminate against non-Jews (Gal 2:11–12; Rom 7:1–6; Eph 2:14–15) and those who resisted. These conflicts, I suggest, were a source of far greater tension and division than claims that Jesus was the Messiah. Jews were used to people claiming such things. There are some traces of conflict over priorities of Torah interpretation in John, such as the Sabbath incidents (John 5:1–18; 9:17), but none of conflict over setting circumcision or other requirements relating to food or purity. Nearly all accounts of the tension which had caused an embittered split behind the Fourth Gospel related to claims being made about Jesus’ person, which were deemed “over the top.” The fact that the high Christology employed and was inspired by the Wisdom myth, and the way it made claims for Torah, does, however, suggest some conflict relating to Torah. That may have had less to do with the setting aside of its provisions (presumably in incorporating gentiles?) and more to do with the consequences of being forced to decide for Jesus or for synagogue authorities. Traces of this kind of alienation do appear in the text (5:18; 10:31–39; 9:22; 12:42; 16:2). 79 Temple Expectations There was of course a widespread tradition which looked to a renewal, rebuilding or replacement of the temple,80 sometimes associated with royal messianic expectation. The historical Jesus may well have embraced eschatological expectation of a renewed or new temple if his symbolic act in the temple predicts God’s judgement and implies, as the words attributed to him in that context in John indicate, imminent expectation of a new temple (John 2:18; cf. Mark 14:57–58; Acts 6:14). That tradition, if historical, underwent diverse revisions. Mark associates temple expectation with messianic expectation and has the community of believers effectively become that new temple (Mark 11:1–25; 12:1–12; 14:57–61) and John’s tradition identifies it with his risen body (2:21). The fact is that the prediction of a renewed or new temple was not fulfilled and some rationalisation was required as response to cognitive dissonance. Some Qumran sectarians, estranged from the temple, could rationalise their loss by seeing their community in the interim as a temple (1Q28/1QS VIII, 4b–7a; IX, 5–6; cf. also 4Q174/4QFlor 1–2 I, 2b– 78

Loader, Jesus’ Attitude towards the Law, 136–431. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 436–52, 469–70. 80 Dennis, Death and the Gathering, cites Isaiah 31, 44–49, 66; Ezekiel 34–37, 40–48; Zechariah 2; Haggai 2; and also expectations of restoration expressed in Tobit 13–14; Sirach 36; Jubilees 1; 1 Enoch 89–90; 1QS, 4QFlor, Temple Scroll and Descriptions of the New Jerusalem (p. 163,). 79

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4) (though they still retained the hope for a renewed or new temple), and Paul could similarly use the metaphor (1 Cor 3:16–17; 6:19; 2 Cor 6:1–18). The Fourth Gospel draws on this tradition, as we have seen, in order to make its case that Jesus has now replaced the temple (John 2:18–22). In doing so, he is employing Jewish messianic tradition in the broad sense of that term. Wisdom and the Son of Man To return to the Parables of Enoch and the brief passage about Wisdom and Iniquity, it stands somewhat isolated in its context.81 The broader context contains other parallels to John’s Gospel, including allusions to the Son of Man in which royal messianic motifs sometimes also appear.82 Others will perhaps focus on that connection. In Matthew there may be some influence, at least from the same field of discourse when the Son of Man is pictured as going to sit on his throne of glory (Matt 19:28; 25:23; cf. 1 En. 69:27, 29; 47:3; 60:2). John has nothing quite as clear, but certainly uses Son of Man to refer to Jesus as a heavenly figure who descends (3:13), but especially to his re-ascent to divine glory (1:51; 3:13–14; 6:62), which enables the creative play on seeing the humiliation of the cross as an exaltation viewed with the eyes of faith (12:31) and a glorification (12:23; 13:31), also enabling the paradoxical play of hailing that event a glorification, though never without taking into account its outcome as returning to the glory he had with the Father before time began.83 While not speaking of the return to earth of the Son of Man unlike in the other Gospels (Mark 13:26; 14:62; Matt 25:31), John might be seen as employing the terms and its associated images within its eschatological perspective, as messianic in the broad sense in which that term is sometimes used. He also exhibits the shift from royal messianism to sayings about Jesus as Son of Man,

81 On this see Nickelsburg and VanderKam, 1 Enoch 2, citing the view that it is an Enochic fragment that is out of place in its context or at least “the connections at both ends are loose indeed” (p. 139). The Epistles of Enoch may well reflect this tradition in the saying: “For I know that sinners will tempt people to do harm to wisdom, and no place will be found for her; and none of the temptation will diminish” (1 En. 94:5). On the possible link between 1 En. 42:1–2 and its context see my observations in Loader, Pseudepigrapha, that the women’s descent may be set in contrast to the descents of the Watchers (39:1) (p. 10). Note also that the Parables do begin in 1 En. 37:1–2 with a claim to be wisdom, although its nature is less instruction in Torah than revelation about the nature of the universe and future events. Nevertheles,s there is a close association between wisdom and righteousness throughout (e.g., 49:1–2; 61:10–11). 82 On this see Benjamin E. Reynolds, The Apocalyptic Son of Man in the Gospel of John, WUNT 2.249 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 46. 83 On the motifs of exaltation and glorification in John, see Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 213–81.

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using messianic in the more defined sense (1:50–51; cf. Mark 8:29–31; 14:61– 62).84 Arguably, however, John’s use of the myth of Wisdom’s descent is as disconnected from Son of Man imagery, including the Son of Man’s descent, as is the use in the Parables. 85 The focus of Wisdom’s descent is not an event in the eschaton, but an engagement within history. In John that engagement in history is recast not in salvation-historical terms, describing Israel’s past, but as occurring in what indeed is in one sense an eschatological event or at least one which determines eschatological destiny. Thus, a positive response of faith means resurrection in the present, undergoing and passing the tests of judgement already now, though never without the appendix of still affirming a final resurrection of the dead and a final judgement day. Images of Torah and Wisdom Images once used of Torah and of Wisdom and now transferred to Jesus, such as water, bread, light and life, occur in biblical tradition not only in association with Torah and Wisdom, but more generally within the promise of salvation which a relationship with God brings, including in more narrowly messianic contexts. “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (Ps 119:105). “Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price” (Isa 55:1), a text whose imagery was then transferred to speak of what Wisdom offered (Sir 51:23–25). The personification of Wisdom and its depiction as a person, like God’s obedient companion or highest angel, inspired John’s elevated Christology, not potential claims which could have been made within royal messianism, nor even messianic expectations in the broader sense of primarily eschatological expectation and speculation. For the Wisdom tradition belonged primarily not as a colour on the eschatological palette, but as a means of promoting obedience to Torah and its commandments in an educational context. Thus, it was not primarily messianic/eschatological nor royal messianic and this remains the case in its employment in the Fourth Gospel where its focus is relationship and the life it makes possible here and now not just in the future.

84

McGrath, Christology, 194. One cannot, however, speak of a total disconnection, especially in the light of the overall framework of Wisdom within which the Parables are set (39:1) and in the light of the associations of wisdom and the Son of Man or Chosen One in 48:10–49:4 and 61:10–11. See also McGrath, Christology, 220. 85

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Jesus and Torah: The Paradox of Discontinuity and Continuity In effect, John’s Jesus offers what in Jewish tradition Torah offered, so that paradoxically the radical discontinuity of something good being superseded by something better, ends up offering the same gift from the same God: eternal life, but now without Torah and the rituals and cult associated with it. Ethics are still informed by the Decalogue but in reality, in practice, they are based directly on the teaching of Jesus about loving one another, as the last discourses illustrate, where allusion to Torah is almost totally absent (except John 15:25), as is similarly the case in 1 John (except for the allusion to Cain in 1 John 3:12), where this belief system inevitably leads. It was critical, it appears, for the author (and it seems, his community) to find a way of coming to terms with what they affirmed in Jesus and what they had previously believed. They did not reject their own Jewish faith to turn to an upstart religion. At least, they did not see it that way. They had to persuade themselves that they had not betrayed their religion and their people. Instead they told themselves that their people who had not believed them had been the betrayers and were now the devil’s children. They, the unbelieving Jews, had betrayed their faith because Moses and the prophets, their Law, their Scriptures, had pointed to the coming of Jesus, God’s final Word, the Wisdom of God, and they had refused to accept him. There was nothing at all wrong in their way of life and faith up to that point. It all went wrong when they refused God’s new gift of grace and truth through Jesus Christ. The Johannine believers needed a rationale for coming to terms with that rejection and their own failure to persuade. Like others before them they played with notions that God had hardened them so as not to hear and respond (12:39–40; 3:19–21; cf. Mark 4:10–12; 2 Cor 3:14; Rom 11:7–10, 25). But they needed also to persuade themselves that they had not lost their way and gone down a blind alley. Luke had to deal with such issues of identity crisis by constructing a narrative of continuity held together by the seams of deep Jewish piety (the early chapters of the Gospel and the early chapters of Acts). John faces discontinuity more directly as God’s intent. God’s intent is that once the one came to whom Moses and the Scriptures bore witness (1:45), they cease to be the primary authority and are replaced by Jesus, their authority limited now to being testimony to his coming and their own intended demise, giving place to the new who now alone can bring life. To continue with the old, which was good in itself as God’s gift to Israel, is to refuse the gift to which pointed and which at the level of the flesh it foreshadowed and that is a gross sin and offends God. The same was true of disciples of John the Baptist. This is effectively what they told themselves as they dealt with the identity crisis which they had to face about themselves and their fellow Jews. The outcome of engaging Wisdom tradition to depict the significance of Jesus, as we see it in John and already presupposed in his tradition, is twofold.

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First, it elevated the man Jesus to the level of deity with both the stupendous claim that he was in the beginning with God engaged in creation, and that he was as much of the essence or family of God as fellow Jews had come to see Wisdom, a kind of binitarian deity now heading towards a trinitarian construct, highly problematic for Judaism then, Islam, later, and still for both. 86 Of course Jewish tradition could sometimes apply divine attributes to heavenly figures such as angels and also the Son of Man,87 and to figures given divine status such as kings and by extension the Messiah. However divine hypostases such as Wisdom, name,88 Logos, and Spirit, which derive substantially from divine attributes, are of a different order. They were not created but in a very real sense always part of God’s being in the beginning and from the beginning, even when they may be spoken of as created in the beginning, such as in Prov 8:22; Sir 24:9, or as God’s firstborn (Philo, Agr. 51; Conf. 146; Col 1:15). Family metaphor here expresses ontological connection. God was never without wisdom! Hence while John’s Christology employs Son of Man tradition to depict his death as exaltation and glorification, reinstating his divine being as Son of Man, it goes beyond it in depicting him as returning to the glory which he had with the Father before the world began (17:5, echoing 1:1–2). This, claimed of Jesus of Nazareth, went too far. Second, paradoxically, it had the effect of shifting the focus of what people saw as the significance of Jesus from God’s agent in end time deliverance from sin and the devil and from being one who by his death achieved atonement allegedly not hitherto achieved. It shifted the focus from end events and salvific transaction to something much closer to the Judaism and Jewish spirituality 86

As Keener, John, notes, “Observers have long noted that virtually everything that John says about the Logos – apart from its incarnation as a particular historical person – Jewish literature said about divine Wisdom” (p. 352,); similarly, Andrew T. Glicksman, “Beyond Sophia: The Sapiential Portrayal of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel and Its Ethical Implications for the Johannine Community,” in Rethinking the Ethics of John: ‘Implicit Ethics’ in the Johannine Writings, ed. J. G. van der Watt and Ruben Zimmermann, CNNTE 3, WUNT 291 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 83–101, 89; McGrath, Christology, 76–77, who writes: “The issue does not appear to have been about whether the Johannine Christians were still monotheists, but about whether the one to whom they attributed various divine prerogatives and honours was God’s appointed agent, or a rebel against God who sought to out himself in God’s place” (p. 114); Söding, “Ich und der Vater,” 194, 197. 87 On this see Crispin Fletcher-Louis, “John 5:19–30: The Son of God is the Apocalyptic Son of Man,” in Reading the Gospel of John’s Christology as Jewish Messianism: Royal, Prophetic, and Divine Messiahs, ed. Benjamin Reynolds and Gabrielle Boccaccini, AJEC 106 (Leiden: Brill, 2018), 411–34, who notes the divine attributes of the Son of Man in the Parables of Enoch and the OG translation of Daniel 7. 88 On “Name,” see Charles Gieschen, “The Divine Name that the Son Shares with the Father in the Gospel of John,” in Reading the Gospel of John’s Christology as Jewish Messianism: Royal, Prophetic, and Divine Messiahs, ed. Benjamin Reynolds and Gabrielle Boccaccini, AJEC 106 (Leiden: Brill, 2018), 387–410.

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which was ultimately its home.89 Life and light and bread and water were to be found in response to God and God’s word – as had always been claimed of Torah. Yes, the difference was certainly that now the medium was not the Law but the words and works of Jesus, but these, too, have been transposed into symbolic cyphers of the divine, largely leaving behind the specifics of an historical Jesus or the earthly Jesus of the traditions, such as we see in the Synoptic Gospels, and now homogenised into episodes designed to enhance symbols.90 Feeding the 5000 morphs into an assertion about the bread of life; healing the blind, into a claim to be the light of the world; raising the dead, into a claim to offer resurrection and life of a completely different order, but one with which fellow Jews were very familiar. Miracles are not denied, but they are relativised by this new integrative focus. 91 The dehistoricising of Jesus in John makes of him a message which sounds very Jewish. His divinization using mainly Wisdom mythology has him virtually disappear into deity, so that he has in fact nothing to offer but what God offers. Same God. Same gift of life. Same challenge to respond. The main difference being that to engage that offer of life was now not to observe Torah as traditionally understood, but to join the Jesus believers and uphold a modicum of ethical commandments grounded in love, though primarily toward one’s own.

Conclusion A Jewish John? Not really, because John’s Judaism which displaced Torah and set loyalty to Jesus at its centre could not be owned by most Jews of his time. A Jewish John? Well, yes, in the sense that his is the closest model of spirituality to that of his forebears because its focus was so thoroughly theological and had removed transactional soteriology and futurist liberation from the centre of faith, subordinating such traditions though not abandoning them, and making the offer of divine grace and the challenge to engage positively in ongoing response its central message.

89 On this see William R. G. Loader, “The Significance of John 1:14–18 for Understanding John’s Approach to Law and Ethics,” RRJ 19 (2016): 194–201, chapter 15 in this volume. 90 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 416. 91 On John’s treatment of miracles see Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 453–54.

3. John 1:51 and Johannine Christology At the climax of chapter 1 Jesus responds to Nathanael with the following words: ਕʌİțȡ઀șȘ ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȣ țĮ੿ İੇʌİȞ Į੝IJ૶· ੖IJȚ İੇʌંȞ ıȠȚ ੖IJȚ İੇįંȞ ıİ ਫ਼ʌȠț੺IJȦ IJોȢ ıȣțોȢ, ʌȚıIJİ઄İȚȢ; ȝİ઀ȗȦ IJȠ઄IJȦȞ ੕ȥૉ. țĮ੿ Ȝ੼ȖİȚ Į੝IJ૶· ਕȝ੽Ȟ ਕȝ੽Ȟ Ȝ੼ȖȦ ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ, ੕ȥİıșİ IJާȞ Ƞ‫ރ‬ȡĮȞާȞ ਕȞİ૳ȖંIJĮ țĮ‫ ޥ‬IJȠީȢ ܻȖȖ‫ޢ‬ȜȠȣȢ IJȠࠎ șİȠࠎ ܻȞĮȕĮަȞȠȞIJĮȢ țĮ‫ ޥ‬țĮIJĮȕĮަȞȠȞIJĮȢ ਥʌ੿ IJઁȞ ȣੂઁȞ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ. Jesus answered and said to him, “Because I said I saw you under the fig tree do you believe? You shall see greater things than these.” 51 And he said to him, “Truly I tell you, you shall see the heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.” (1:50–51)

This paper revisits the question: What does this mean? What is it talking about? The answers to these questions are quite diverse and usually reflect various attempts to make sense of the intertextual connection with Jacob’s vision in Genesis 28. In this brief paper I can do little more than list them in outline before offering an alternative rendering. Some see Jesus as the ladder, 1 which could mean that he is the point of connection between the heavenly and earthly realms,2 “die permanente

1

James F. McGrath, John’s Apologetic Christology: Legitimation and Development in Johannine Christology, SNTSMS 11 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 209; Ulrich Busse, Das Johannesevangelium: Bildlichkeit, Diskurs und Ritual, BETL 162 (Leuven: Peeters, 2002), 336–37; Robert H. Gundry, Jesus the Word According to John the Sectarian: A Paleofundamentalist Manifesto for Contemporary Evangelicalism, especially Its Elites, in North America (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 12–14; H.-U. Weidemann, Der Tod Jesu im Johannesevangelium. Die erste Abschiedsrede als Schlüsseltext für den Passions- und Osterbericht, BZNW 122 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004), 426; Andrew T. Lincoln, The Gospel According to Saint John, BNTC 4 (London: Continuum, 2005), 122; Dorothy A. Lee, Flesh and Glory: Symbolism, Gender and Theology in the Gospel of John (New York: Crossroad, 2002), 35; Marianne Meye Thompson, John (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2015), 54. See also the critical assessment of this and the following options in Jan G. van der Watt, “Angels in John 1:51,” in The Opening of John’s Narrative (John 1:19–2:22): Historical, Literary, and Theological Readings from the Colloquium Ioanneum 2015 in Ephesus, ed. Alan Culpepper and Jörg Frey, WUNT 385 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017), 133–63. 2 Delbert Burkett, The Son of Man in the Gospel of John, JSNTSup 56 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991), as depicting the Son of Man joining heaven and earth (pp. 112–19); similarly, Hartwig Thyen, Das Johannesevangelium, HNT 6 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 147–48; Craig S. Keener, The Gospel of John. A Commentary, 2 vols.

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Offenbarungseinheit von Gott und Jesus.” 3 Ahn notes, for instance, that “the Septuagint clarifies the antecedent of the demonstrative pronoun as it shifts the gender into feminine (ਥʌ‫ ތ‬Į੝IJોȢ),” in contrast to the Hebrew of Gen 28:12 which has the ambiguous ʥʡ that can be understood as a reference to a person, meaning “on him”.4 Accordingly, Jesus as Son of Man makes it possible for believers to ascend to heaven, either through his offer of life during his ministry or as the result of the achievement of his death, understood as an act of cultic atonement, or as vicarious on the behalf, or as victory over the ruler of this world, or as breaking through and establishing a path out of his world, escape via himself up the ladder. The image of the ladder has some see the cross itself as symbolically a ladder which made this possible.5 Others focus not on the ladder but on a typological identity of Jesus with Jacob,6 certainly possible based on the Hebrew ʥʡ in Gen 28:12 (as Gen. Rab. 68.12), though not with the LXX ਥʌ‫ ތ‬Į੝IJોȢ. Late rabbinic tradition reports the angels descending to Jacob and then ascending to look at his image on the heavenly chariot.7 Even without that tradition Jesus could be seen as a new

(Peabody: Hendrickson, 2005), 489; Benjamin E. Reynolds, The Apocalyptic Son of Man in the Gospel of John, WUNT 2.249 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 98. 3 Weidemann, Tod Jesu, 107. 4 Sanghee Michael Ahn, The Christological Witness Function of Old Testament Characters in the Gospel of John (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2014), 66–77, 70. He notes that Philo’s understanding of the ladder (Somn 1.133) seems distant from that of John since he records that “by the ladder in this thing, which is called the world, is figuratively understood the air, the foundation of which is the earth, and the head is the heaven” (p. 73). 5 J. D. M. Derrett, Law in the New Testament (London: DLT, 1970), 416; Francis J. Moloney, The Johannine Son of Man, 2nd ed., BSR 14 (Rome: Las, 1978), 38–40; L. P. Trudinger, “The Israelite in whom there is no guile,” EQ 54 (1982): 117–20, 119; F. F. Bruce, The Gospel of John (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1983), 88; Margaret Pamment, “The Son of Man in the Fourth Gospel,” JTS 36 (1985): 58–66, 59; Adela Collins, “Epilogue,” in John’s Gospel and Intimations of Apocalyptic, ed. C. H. Williams and C. Rowland (London: T&T Clark, 2013), 300–307, 301. 6 John Ashton, The Gospel of John and Christian Origins (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2014), who sees the author depicting Jesus as replacing Jacob as the true intermediary (p. 142); John Ashton, Understanding the Fourth Gospel, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 249–51; Ulrich B. Müller, Die Menschwerdung des Gottessohnes. Frühchristliche Inkarnationsvorstellungen und die Anfänge des Doketismus, SBS 140 (Stuttgart: KBW, 1990), 56–57; Busse, Johannesevangelium, 336–37; Burkett, Son of Man, 112–19, 121; Christian Dietzfelbinger, Das Evangelium nach Johannes, 2nd ed. (Zurich: TVZ, 2004), 1.61. On this identification see the critique in Ahn, Christological Witness, 66–77, pointing to the contradictory nature of rabbinic traditions usually cited in support and the indications from the context. See also J. Ramsey Michaels, The Gospel of John, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 136–37. 7 C. C. Rowland, “John 1.51. Jewish Apocalyptic and Targumic Tradition,” NTS 30 (1984): 409–507, 502, 504–505; Jarl E. Fossum, “The Son of Man’s Alter Ego: John 1.51, Targumic Tradition and Jewish Mysticism,” in The Image of the Invisible God. Essays on

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Jacob, a new Israel. Most, however, see the typological correspondence not as between Jesus and Jacob but between Nathanael and Jacob and by extension, because of the change to the plural in 1:51, “Truly I tell you (plural), you (plural) will see,” implying the disciples are the new or true Israel and perhaps playing etymologically with “Israel” as meaning seeing God. Another line of interpretation focusses (sometimes in addition) on the location, Bethel, and sees typological correspondence between Bethel, the house of God, and Jesus as the new temple, indeed, as the one, who, as 1:14 has told us, made his dwelling among us, becoming a place where God’s glory dwells. 8 Thus Theobald writes: “Er, Jesus, ist der ‘Ort’ der Kommunikation zwischen Himmel und Erde, er ist das ‘Haus Gottes’, sein Tempel auf Erden, er steht ‘in nie unterbrochener Unmittelbarkeit zu seinem Vater [...],’ so daß alles, was er tun wird, bedeutet: ‘Wer mich gesehen hat, hat den Vater gesehen’ (14,9).” 9 the Influence of Jewish Mysticism on Early Christology, NTOA 30 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1995), 135–51, 149. For criticism see James D. G. Dunn, “Let John be John – A Gospel for its Time,” in Das Evangelium und die Evangelien, ed. P. Stuhlmacher, WUNT 28 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1983), 309–39, 329–30; Moloney, Son of Man, 232–33, 240– 41; Rudolf Schnackenburg, Das Johannesevangelium. 4. Teil. Ergänzende Auslegungen und Exkurse, HTKNT 4.4 (Freiburg: Herder, 1984), 105; Udo Schnelle, Antidoketische Christologie im Johannesevangelium. Eine Untersuchung zur Stellung des vierten Evangeliums in der johanneischen Schule (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1987), 207; George R. Beasley-Murray, “The Mission of the Logos-Son,” in The Four Gospels 1992. Festschrift for Frans Neirynck, ed. F. van Segbroeck, C. M. Tuckett, G. van Belle, and J. Verheyden, BETL 100 (Leuven: Peeters, 1992), 1855–68, 1863; Michael E. Theobald, Herrenworte im Johannesevangelium, HBS 34 (Freiburg: Herder, 2002), 205 n.15; Mavis M. Leung, The Kingship-Cross Interplay in the Gospel of John: Jesus’ Death as Corroboration of His Royal Messiahship (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2011), 66. Müller, Menschwerdung, cites the Prayer of Joseph as parallel where Jacob is identified in the heavenly world as an angel (pp. 56–57). 8 Beate Kowalski,“Thesen zur johanneischen Christologie,” BN 146 (2010): 107–23, 110; Knut Backhaus, “‘Before Abraham was, I am’: The Book of Genesis and the Genesis of Christology,” in Genesis and Christian Theology, ed. N. MacDonald, M. W. Elliott, and G. Macaskill (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 74–84, 78; Benny Thettayil, In Spirit and Truth. An Exegetical Study of John 4:19–26 and a Theological Investigation of the Replacement Theme in the Fourth Gospel, CBET 46 (Leuven: Peeters, 2007), 376–82; Udo Schnelle, “Die Tempelreinigung und die Christologie des Johannesevangeliums,” NTS 42 (1996): 359–73, 369; Schnelle, Johannes, 56; Ben Witherington, John’s Wisdom: A Commentary on the Fourth Gospel (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1995), 72–73; Mary L. Coloe, God Dwells with Us: Temple Symbolism in the Fourth Gospel (Collegeville: Liturgical, 2001), 73, 215; John F. McHugh, John 1–4, ICC (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 169; Lincoln, John, 122; Weidemann, Tod Jesu, 108; Keener, John, 489; Leung, KingshipCross, 67; see also Busse, Johannesevangelium, 336–37. 9 Michael E. Theobald, “Abraham – (Isaak –) Jakob. Israels Väter im Johannesevangelium,” in Israel und seine Heilstraditionen im Johannesevangelium. Festgabe für Johannes Beutler SJ zum 70. Geburtstag, ed. M. Labahn, K. Scholtissek, and A. Strotmann

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Mostly scholars see the image of ascending and descending angels in 1:51 as an image of revelation, depicting the permanent relationship with God, and pointing forward to what is to follow in Jesus’ ministry in chapter 210 and thereafter, 11 and, sometimes, see that reaching right across Jesus’ ministry up (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 2004), 158–84, 161–62, citing Jürgen Becker, Das Evangelium des Johannes, ÖTK 4.1/2 (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1979/1981), 21. 10 Ludger Schenke, “Christologie als Theologie. Versuch über das Johannesevangelium,” in Von Jesus zum Christus. Christologische Studien. Festgabe für Paul Hoffmann zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. R. Hoppe and U. Busse, BZNW 93 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1998), 445–65, 449. 11 So Walter Bauer, Das Johannesevangelium, HNT 6 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1933), 42; W. Lütgert, Die Johanneische Christologie, 2nd ed. (Gütersloh: Bertelsmann, 1916), 47; W. H. Cadman, The Open Heaven (Oxford: Blackwell, 1969), 28; Rudolf Bultmann, Das Evangelium des Johannes, KEKNT (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1968; first published 1941), 75; C. H. Dodd, The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1953), 296; Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John, 2 vols., AB 29/29A (New York: Doubleday, 1966/1970), 83–84, 97; Siegfried Schulz, Untersuchungen zur Menschensohn-Christologie im Johannesevangelium (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1957), 102–103; Rudolf Schnackenburg, “Der Menschensohn im Johannesevangelium,” NTS 11 (1964/65): 123–37, 126; Rudolf Schnackenburg, The Gospel According to John, Vol. 1 (London: Burns & Oates, 1968), 321– 22, 413; J. Terence Forestell, The Word of the Cross, AnBib 57 (Rome: BIP, 1974), 67; Günter Reim, Studien zum alttestamentlichen Hintergrund des Johannesevangeliums, SNTSMS 22 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974), 104; Ferdinand Hahn, “Die Jüngerberufung. Joh 1,35–51,” in Neues Testament und Kirche. Festschrift für R. Schnackenburg, ed. J. Gnilka (Freiburg: Herder, 1974), 172–90, 173; Ferdinand Hahn, Theologie des Neuen Testaments, 2 Bände (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 1.632; Birger Olsson, Structure and Meaning in the Fourth Gospel, ConBNT 6 (Lund: Gleerup, 1974), 102–104; Mark L. Appold, The Oneness Motif in the Fourth Gospel, WUNT 2.1 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1976), 53–54; Stephen S. Smalley, “Johannes 1,51 und die Einleitung zum vierten Evangelium,” in Jesus und der Menschensohn. Für Anton Vögtle, ed. R. Pesch and R. Schnackenburg (Freiburg: Herder, 1975), 300–13, 313; Francis J. Moloney, “The Johannine Son of God,” BTB 6 (1976): 175–89, 180; Barnabas Lindars, “The Passion in the Fourth Gospel,” in God’s Christ and His People: Studies in Honor of N. A. Dahl, ed. J. Jervell and W. Meeks (Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1977), 71–86, 77; M.-E. Boismard and A. Lamouille, L’Évangile de Jean. Synopse des Quatres Évangiles en Français, Tome III (Paris: Cerf, 1977), 99; Jan Bühner, Der Gesandte und sein Weg im 4. Evangelium, WUNT 2.2 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1977), 391–92; Georg Richter, Studien zum Johannesevangelium, BU 13 (Regensburg: Pustet, 1977), 366; Marius de Jonge, Jesus: Stranger from Heaven and Son of God, SBLMS 10 (Missoula: Scholars, 1977), 13, 59; Dunn, “John,” 326; W. J. Bittner, Jesu Zeichen im Johannesevangelium, WUNT 2.26 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987), 76; Pamment, “Son of Man,” 59; Schnelle, Christologie, 87–88; Ernst Haenchen, Johannesevangelium. Ein Kommentar, ed. U. Busse (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1980), 182; Gary M. Burge, The Anointed Community: The Holy Spirit in the Johannine Tradition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987), 86; Robin Scroggs, Christology in Paul and John (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988), 70; Michaels, John, 136–37; Johannes Beutler, Das Johannesevangelium (Freiburg: Herder, 2013), 117; Adele Reinhartz, “Jesus as Prophet: Predictive Prolepses in the Fourth Gospel,” JSNT 36 (1989): 3–16, 8; Margaret Davies,

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to and including the cross. 12 Thus van Belle argues: “You will see” (1,51) does not thus refer to the distant future of the end time, it contains rather a central promise for Jesus’ disciples: to the extent that they believe that Jesus if the Son of God, they will witness here and now the essential and ongoing connection vividly at work between Jesus on earth and God in heaven.13 To see Jesus’ glory is to see his entire life, both in faithful witness to the signs and ultimately in faithful witness to the cross.14

Similarly, Reynolds writes: “The exaltation of the Son of Man does not wait until his future coming. That coming has been compressed with the present. The Son of Man is already present and active now, and his presence brings about salvation and/or judgement depending on whether or not people believe.”15 “The vision of John 1.51 serves as an apocalyptic introduction of this heavenly figure, the Son of Man, and it symbolizes his relationship with the Father and humanity and his act of revelation, which the Son of Man, as the Word, conveys from the Father to humanity.”16 As Bultmann put it, 17 1:51 picks up 1:14; or one might say 1:14–18,18 and is another way of pointing to Jesus’ role as the revealer, 19 however one then relates the imagery typologically to that basic assumption.

Rhetoric and Reference in the Fourth Gospel, JSNTSup 69 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1992), 179. 12 So Brown, John, 88; Moloney, Son of Man, 38–40; Bruce, John, 88; Barnabas Lindars, The Gospel of John (London: Oliphants, 1972), 122, 220, 222; Barnabas Lindars, Jesus Son of Man (London: SPCK, 1983), 148–49; Barnabas Lindars, John , NTG (Sheffield: JSOT, 1990), 84; P. F. Ellis, The Genius of John: A Compositional Critical Commentary on the Fourth Gospel (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1984), 58; George R. Beasley-Murray, John, 2nd ed., WBC 36 (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1999), 35; Beasley-Murray, “Mission,” 1862. 13 Gilbert van Belle, “The Death of Jesus and the Literary Unity of the Fourth Gospel,” in The Death of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, ed. G. van Belle, BETL 200 (Leuven: Peeters, 2007), 3–64, 23. 14 van Belle, “Death of Jesus,” 24. Similarly, Francis J. Moloney, Love in the Gospel of John: An Exegetical, Theological, and Literary Study (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2013), 41. Keener, John, 489. 15 Reynolds, Apocalyptic Son of Man, 127. “The seeing of the apocalyptic Son of Man begins now because he has already come” (p. 102). 16 Reynolds, Apocalyptic Son of Man, 98. 17 Bultmann, Johannesevangelium, 75. 18 Elizabeth Harris, Prologue and Gospel: The Theology of the Fourth Evangelist, JSNTSup 107 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994), 119. 19 Francis J. Moloney, “The Johannine Son of Man Revisited,” in Theology and Christology in the Fourth Gospel: Essays by the Members of the SNTS Johannine Writings Seminar, ed. G. van Belle, J. G. van der Watt, and P. Maritz, BETL 184 (Leuven: Peeters, 2005), 177–202, referring to Sinai Midrash Mekilta de Rabbi Ishhmael, sees in 1:19–2:11 a Christian re-reading of Exod 19:7–19 and 1:51 as referring to revelation on earth (p. 188).

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Some extend the emphasis to include death, resurrection and glorification. Thus Carson writes: “The fulfilment of the promise of 1:51, the culmination of the Father’s attestation of the Son, the privilege of seeing the glory of the Son of Man – these transpire throughout the Fourth Gospel, and are climaxed by Jesus’ death and resurrection.” 20 “Above all else, it is Jesus’ death/exaltation that provides for Nathanael and the other disciples, as for countless followers of Jesus ever since, the most powerful fulfilment of the promise of this verse (cf. 8:28).” 21 Similarly Pryor writes: “The promise of 1:51 is not a pointer to the signs of Jesus’ ministry (2:11) but to its end. The Son of Man is still an exalted, glorified figure even in v. 51, but, as elsewhere in the gospel, the cross is part of the exaltation.”22 Leung comments: “Jesus’ utterance in John 1:50– 51 serves as an internal prolepsis in anticipating his death that will be unfolded in the subsequent narrative.” 23 Reflecting on the plethora of interpretations, I find none of the usual solutions satisfactory. In particular, I find methodological weakness in all of them. Many focus primarily on the intertextual link with Genesis 28, apparently not even recognised by Chrysostom (Homily 21 [NPNF, 1st ser. 14.73]),24 though surely to be acknowledged. The tendency to move straight to the intertextual reflects in part the era when our discipline was dominated by Religionsgeschichte before the resurgence of more careful prior synchronic analysis of the text. The contextual perspective usually reads 1:51 as echoing 1:14–18. The intratextual perspective usually identifies the rest of John as illustrating 1:51’s meaning, but with little attention to other important intratextual links related to the promise of something greater and the designation, Son of Man, and its usual associations. What is nearly always 20

Donald A. Carson, The Gospel According to John (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991),

164. 21

Carson, John, 165. Similarly, Smalley, John, 312; Wilhelm Thüsing, Die Erhöhung und Verherrlichung Jesu im Johannesevangelium, 3rd ed., NTAbh 21 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1979), 59–61, 115; Weidemann, Tod Jesu, 109–10; Michael E. Theobald, Das Evangelium nach Johannes. Kapitel 1–12 (Regensburg: Pustet, 2009), 195; Michaels, John, 136–37; Beutler, Johannesevangelium, who sees 1:51 fulfilled in what follows right up to and including Jesus’ death and glorification (17:24; 13:31–32) (p. 117). 22 John W. Pryor, John: Evangelist of the Covenant Community: The Narrative and Themes of the Fourth Gospel (Downers Grove: IVP, 1992), 14. 23 Leung, Kingship-Cross, 114. See also Rainer Schwindt, Gesichte der Herrlichkeit. Eine exegetisch-traditionsgeschichtliche Studie zur paulinischen und johanneischen Christologie, HBS 50 (Freiburg: Herder, 2007), who writes: “Seine Doxa ist schon während seines Erdenwirkens offenbar (2,11), doch weist das futurische ੕ȥİıșİ im MenschensohnWort 1,51 auf ein noch ausstehende grössere Verherrlichung” (p. 331). He also notes that Justin read Gen 28:12 as referring to the Logos-Christ in heaven (Dial. 58.11; 60.2–4; 86.2) (p. 328). 24 So Michaels, John, 136; and in recent times: W. Michaelis, “Joh 1,51. Gen 28,12 und das Menschen-Sohn Problem,” TLZ 85 (1960): 561–78, who denies the link.

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missing is a careful reading of the text itself and the image it projects, surely fundamental to any interpretation. That is where I want to begin and where, I believe, we should begin. In particular, what does this text say? What does it envisage? What is it asking us to imagine? What will Nathanael and the disciples actually be looking at when this promise of future seeing is fulfilled? The answer is: they will see heaven opened and the angels ascending and descending on the Son of Man. The author invites us to look and what do we see? Not a ladder, not a stone. These motifs, however significant, do not appear on the screen. Rather the author has chosen to mention only the angels. Seeing heaven opened could imply that what is seen is in heaven; heaven is opened up so that we can look into it; or, that something comes from heaven and is seen on earth. This depends on our understanding of what is said about the angels. What does the text actually say? They first ascend and then descend, not the other way round. One could imagine this as happening up and down the body of Jesus, but that makes little sense. Rather, angels are going up towards, to, onto Jesus and also coming down towards, to, onto him. Unlike the genitive LXX ਥʌ‫ ތ‬Į੝IJોȢ in Gen 28:12, here we have the accusative: ਥʌ੿ IJઁȞ ȣੂઁȞ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ. Movement to, towards, onto, is implied. Spatially, this assumes that Jesus is understood not as being on a fixed surface, on earth, but as somehow suspended in mid-air. First century hearers would not find this perplexing at all and would most naturally understand this as occurring in the heavenly realm, the place, indeed, in which angels are understood as actively serving and adoring God. Here the angels are most easily understood as adoring Jesus. This is just another variation of the thought expressed elsewhere that every knee would bow before Jesus and similar images of enthronement (Phil 2:10– 11; 1 Pet 3:22; Heb 1:3–6; cf. also Matt 25:31; Mark 8:38). Zumstein recognises that context, only to dismiss it because he insists that 1:51 must refer to Jesus on earth.25 In his paper in this volume, van der Watt rightly notes that the focus of both participles is movement onto the Son of Man,26 but then suggests that the movement is circular, which leaves the image unclear and vague. In part this is because like others he still does not question that 1:51 refers to the Son of Man on earth.27 His resolution effectively dissolves the image, treating it as 25 Jean Zumstein, Das Johannesvangelium, KEK 2 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015), argues that the opening of heaven was to enable the angels to ascend and descend, symbolising the permanent relationship between God and the Son of Man, and explains that “die Präposition ਥʌ઀ zeigt an, dass der Menschensohn auf Erden weilt (sonst würde er zur Rechten Gottes sitzen)” (pp. 113–14). On the contrary the text makes best sense as a variant expression of what elsewhere is expressed through allusion to heavenly enthronement. 26 van der Watt, “Angels,” 152. Cf. Schnackenburg, John 1, who says the angels are taking Jesus’ prayers up to God (p. 321). 27 van der Watt, “Angels,” 156.

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primarily functioning at a symbolic level to indicate divine presence. It makes much better sense of the imagery to see both the act of ascent and the act of descent as being towards the Son of Man. I cannot emphasis enough how important it is to look carefully at what appears here on the screen before running off to look for allegories and distant allusions. By far the most natural reading of what the text actually says, when we make the effort to stop and look, is to interpret it as promising a vision of Jesus in an exalted state in heaven, glorified by angels.28 I am not aware of any other interpretation which does justice to what the author has chosen to put before our eyes. Understood as the promise of seeing Jesus in glory the promise finds its echo in Jesus’ prayer in 17:24 where he prays: Ȇ੺IJİȡ, ੔ į੼įȦț੺Ȣ ȝȠȚ, ș੼ȜȦ ੆ȞĮ ੖ʌȠȣ İੁȝ੿ ਥȖઅ țਕțİ૙ȞȠȚ ੯ıȚȞ ȝİIJૅ ਥȝȠ૨, ੆ȞĮ șİȦȡ૵ıȚȞ IJ੽Ȟ įંȟĮȞ IJ੽Ȟ ਥȝ੾Ȟ, ਴Ȟ į੼įȦț੺Ȣ ȝȠȚ ੖IJȚ ਱Ȗ੺ʌȘı੺Ȣ ȝİ ʌȡઁ țĮIJĮȕȠȜોȢ țંıȝȠȣ. Father, with regard to what you have given me, I wish that that where I am they also might be with me, so that they may see the glory which you have given me, because you loved me from before the foundation of the world. 29

Two further motifs in the text require comment. First, we can now conclude that the opening of heaven is not in order that something may come down out of heaven, as in the tradition of the baptism of Jesus, with which John could be playing, but in order that Nathanael and the disciples may see into heaven and so look upon Jesus in his exalted, glorified state. 30

28 I argued this initially in William R. G. Loader, “John 1:50–51 and the ‘Greater Things’ of Johannine Christology,” in Anfänge der Christologie. Für Ferdinand Hahn, ed. C. Breytenbach and H. Paulsen (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991), 255–74, and in this paper significantly expand the grounds for this conclusion. Also affirming an allusion to the heavenly exalted state of the Son of Man: Robert L. Maddox, “The Function of the Son of Man in the Gospel of John,” in Reconciliation and Hope: Festschrift for L. Morris, ed. R. Banks (Exeter: Paternoster, 1974), 184–204, 190–91; A. B. J. Higgins, Jesus and the Son of Man (London: Clarke, 1964), 159–60; J. Coppens, “Le Fils de l’Homme dans l’Évangile johannique,” ETL 52 (1976): 28–81, 45; John Painter, “Christ and the Church in John 1,45–51,” in L’Évangile de Jean. Sources, Rédaction, Théologie, ed. M. de Jonge, BETL 44 (Leuven: Gombleux, 1977), 359–62, 361; John Painter, “The Church and Israel in the Fourth Gospel: A Response,” NTS 25 (1978): 103–22, 109–10; John Painter, John: Witness and Theologian, 3rd ed. (Melbourne: Beacon Hill, 1986), 55–56; Nils A. Dahl, “The Johannine Church and History,” in The Interpretation of John, ed. J. Ashton (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986), 122–40, 133; Martinus C. de Boer, Johannine Perspectives on the Death of Jesus, CBET 17 (Kampen: Pharos, 1996), 161; Thomas Söding, “Kreuzerhöhung. Zur Deutung des Todes Jesu nach Johannes,” ZTK 103 (2006): 2–25, 12. 29 Cf. Moloney, Son of Man, 179, 188, 207; Moloney, Love, who suggests that 19:5, “Behold the Man!” fulfils 1:51 (pp. 143–44). 30 Thyen, Johannesevangelium, notes that the perfect tense indicates that the heaven remains open (p. 146). Bittner, Zeichen, sees in 1:51 a vision of the heavenly on earth with

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The second is that the author speaks not simply about Jesus but depicts him here as “Son of Man”. This is not insignificant because the motif “Son of Man” is frequently associated with the act of Jesus’ exaltation and glorification in John, a matter to which we return below.31 This reinforces the likelihood that here, too, as the image demands, we have to do with exaltation and glorification, but not the act itself which begins paradoxically with its apparent reverse, namely the humiliation on the cross, but its end, namely where, as the one who has been exalted and glorified, the Son of Man is now to be seen in his exalted state, having return to the glory which he shared with the Father since before the world began. The author may well be recycling Son of Man tradition, which elsewhere depicts him in heavenly glory and/or as surrounded by angels (Mark 8:38; 13:26–27; Matt 13:42; 25:31; Acts 7:55–56; Rev 4:1). 32 Before pursuing the important intratextual links, we must first examine the context within the narrative. Here a key indicator is the statement in 1:50: “You (pl) shall see greater things than these.” What are the “greater things”?33 Clearly, what 1:51 indicates. But greater than what? As noted above, many, ignoring the logic of the imagery of 1:51, see it as referring to Jesus’ ministry as revealer on earth, and so echoing 1:14–18. Sometimes this is taken as implying a contrast between what Nathanael saw and what he and others would see from chapter 2 onwards. He has not yet seen Jesus as revealer. One might even push that logic further to the extent that the author would be implying that Nathanael’s faith was based on the miracle of Jesus’ foreknowledge about him and so be little better that the miracle-based faith of those who believed in Jesus’ name in 2:23–25, of whom to some extent Nicodemus is an example, who accepts that Jesus must be from God because no one could do the miracles he does unless God is with him. Accordingly, “greater” here would refer to

the Son of Man atop the ladder (pp. 96–97). Reynolds, Apocalyptic Son of Man, writes: “The ‘open heaven’ motif implies that the Johannine Son of Man is a heavenly figure, since it is the opening of heaven that makes the vision of this figure possible” (p. 95), but then goes on to argue that the heavenly Son of Man is to be seen on earth. 31 See also the extensive discussion of these motifs in William R. G. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel: Structure and Issues in Johannine Christology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017), 197–260. 32 Some see it as deriving from tradition once focussed on the parousia. So Bühner, Gesandte, 391–92; Maddox, “Son of Man,” 190; Richter, Studien, 361–62; Forestell, Word of the Cross, 23–24; Schulz, Menschensohn, 102–103; Reynolds, Apocalyptic Son of Man, 101–102. See also Thyen, Johannesevangelium, who suggests that 1:50–51 is probably playing on Matt 26:64 and perhaps on the Caesarea Philippi episode (p. 144). He also notes the regular association of the Son of Man as judge and angels (p. 146). 33 Theobald, Johannes, draws attention to similar promises in apocalyptic literature (4 Ezra 5:13 and 3 Bar 1:6; 2:6; 5:3) (p. 195). Significantly, however, in these the focus is not qualitative but quantitative or at least some new event or revelation.

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better faith. 34 Such an interpretation can appeal to Jesus’ words: “Because I said I saw you under the fig tree do you believe?” One might point also to 6:14– 15 where Jesus distances himself from those who acclaim him prophet and want to make him king. Had Nathanael not also acclaimed him Messiah/Son of God and “King of Israel”? Such an interpretation of Nathanael’s faith as inadequate or less adequate does not, however, do justice to the narrative, which instead hails Nathanael as an ideal of the disciple, serving as the positive climax of the narrative.35 It is not because Nathanael’s faith is inadequate that he is promised a vision of the Son of Man, but, on the contrary, because it is adequate. Indeed, he is a true Israelite in whom there is no guile, an ideal image of the learning disciple sitting under the fig tree, and likely typologically to be identified intertextually with Jacob. John the Baptist’s declaration that he had come to reveal the coming one to Israel (1:31), finds fulfilment in him, the true Israelite. Nathanael’s affirmation, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the King of Israel,” far from being inadequate, requiring a greater or better response, is exactly what the gospel hopes to achieve among all hearers: “These things are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and believing, find life in his name” (20:31).36 In that sense the climax of chapter one mirrors the climax of the gospel itself. One need not, of course, see Nathanael’s acclamation as inadequate. The contrast implied in the promise of greater things to be seen could simply be promising that Nathanael and the disciples are about to see even more than what they had seen thus far, namely all the events which follow from chapter 2 onwards, but this hardly does justice to the contrast, here and elsewhere in the gospel, and in any case makes no sense of the imagery. Intratextual considerations are of paramount importance when reading John. We are probably correct to assume that the author will have written with the awareness that his first listeners will not be hearing about Jesus for the first time, nor hearing about his depiction of Jesus and his significance for the first time. Already the extensive use of irony indicates that this would not have been 34 Haenchen, Johannesevangelium, 182; Richter, Studien, 366; C. K. Barrett, “Christocentric or Theocentric? Observations on the Theological Method of the Fourth Gospel,” in Essays on John (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1982), 1–18, 11; Reim, Studien, 251; Theobald, Johannes, who writes: “Zum ersten Mal meldet sich seine Reserve gegenüber Versuchen, die Wunder Jesu als Legitimationsbeweise für seinen Anspruch aufzufassen” (p. 195). 35 So rightly Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 144. 36 Collins, “Epilogue,” sees 1:51 as an attempt on the part of the author to divert attention from the politically ambiguous language of messiahship and align the understanding of messiahship with what we find in the Parables of Enoch (1 Enoch 37–72) and 4 Ezra (p. 301). See also Carson, John, for a similar view (p. 164). The latter connection does make sense of how he combines Messiah and Son of Man, but the evidence for concern with political misunderstanding in John is at most marginal, at least in what is expressed.

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so. Instead they will most likely have had some familiarity with the gospel’s themes, especially, as is likely, because its material reflects use and re-use of the traditions. In particular, in this instance, we should not, therefore, be looking at 1:51 on the basis of the first reader fallacy, that is, with the assumption that as with a novel readers would be learning about the character Jesus as the Son of Man for the first time. They are listeners who will have heard much before, as John’s use of irony demonstrates, and certainly any rereading of John before an audience would conjure up associations with what is said later in the gospel about the Son of Man. It is therefore important to give intratextual parallels their weight when approaching our text. Are there such intratextual considerations which throw light on 1:51? Do we find such a promise of greater things to come elsewhere in the gospel? We do, indeed. It is a pattern which the author employs on a number of occasions. What is more, it is frequently associated with the designation of Jesus as Son of Man and with motifs relating to the climax of Jesus’ ministry, in particular, his death, exaltation, glorification, and ascension. Here I can but note them only briefly, but they are consistent and impressive. In 3:12 Jesus complains that Nicodemus and others fail to respond to his ministry on earth, “earthly things,” and so declares: how then will believe if I tell you heavenly things – in other words about something greater. The earthly things pertain to the message of the revealer on earth. What are these even greater heavenly things? The context makes this clear. For the author goes on to have Jesus refer to the descent and ascent of the Son of Man in 3:13,37 and to speak of the lifting up of the Son of Man in 3:14–15, an allusion both to the crucifixion and, to the eyes of faith, the Son of Man’s exaltation in and through that event. It is in substance basically the same contrast which we find in 1:50–51, only there the focus is not on the action but the outcome, namely the Son of Man in his exalted state. There is more to be seen than Jesus as revealer on earth; they will see him as glorified Son of Man in heaven. Notice also the other common feature: the promise of something to be seen, also a common motif in these contrasts. A similarly frustrated response at people’s failure to believe that Jesus is the bread who descended from heaven to bring life to the world has Jesus declare in 6:62 “And what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before?” That will be something greater. Greater than what? Greater that the claim that Jesus came as the

37 The connection is noted by Moloney, Son of Man, 67; Lindars, Son of Man, 148–49; Wayne A. Meeks, “The Man from Heaven in Johannine Sectarianism,” in The Interpretation of John, ed. John Ashton (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986), 141–73, 146–47, but not interpreted in relation to the two stage christology.

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revealer to earth, the true bread. Again, we note the contrast, the motifs of seeing, the designation Son of Man, and as in 3:13 the motif of ascent. 38 There are also other instances where “something greater” is promised. In 5:21 it apparently refers to the exercise of judgement, both in Jesus’ ministry and at the eschaton, and here, too, we find the characteristic designation, Son of Man, associated in tradition with the judging role. In the last discourses the promise of “greater things” is expressed in relation to the disciples doing greater works than Jesus, not more fantastic, but more expansive, as they bring the good news to the world (14:12). This, too, is, in the understanding of Johannine christology, the fruit of Jesus’ exaltation, glorification, and ascension on the basis of which in his exalted state he sends the Spirit for mission. When the Greeks come (12:20–22) and mission is symbolised by the world going after him (12:19), Jesus declares that the hour has come for him as Son of Man to be glorified (12:23), to die and bear much fruit (12:24), and to set a path also for disciples to follow so that they may be with him at its end (12:25–26). The event is about to occur which exposes sin and expels the world’s ruler and lays the basis for drawing to himself all people (12:31–33). The hour, the event, which in John bundles together his death, exaltation, glorification, ascent, and return to the Father, is the basis for the fruit-bearing in mission, through which God will be glorified. This is something greater than has been taking place in Jesus’ ministry thus far and much more than simply its climax. This promise of something greater finds an echo in 14:28 where Jesus identifies the hope which flows from the fact that he returns to the Father who is greater. Earlier, looking to the cross and his vindication Jesus declares: “Now is the Son of Man glorified and God is glorified in him. If God is glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him immediately” (13:31– 32). This finds its echo in Jesus’ prayer: “Father, the hour has come. Glorify your Son that your Son may glorify you” (17:1) and “And now glorify me, Father, with yourself, with the glory which I had with you before the world 38 In 19:37 the author cites Zech 12:10 in relation to the spear thrust: “they shall look on him whom they have pierced.” On this, see Ahn, Christological Witness, 170–73; William Randolph Bynum, The Fourth Gospel and the Scriptures: Illuminating the Form and Meaning of Scriptural Citation in John 19:37, NovTSup 144 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 171–74; Weidemann, Tod Jesu, 422. This text is applied to Jesus’ parousia in Rev 1:7, but transferred here to his death. Weidemann sees the reference functioning like 3:14 and 1:29, 36 as predicting people’s sense of protection when they look on Jesus as the Passover lamb (p. 129). Jörg Frey, “‘dass sie meine Herrlichkeit schauen’ (Joh 17,24). Zu Hintergrund, Sinn und Funktion der johanneischen Rede von der įંȟĮ Jesu,” in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten. Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. J. Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 639–62, links this seeing to 17:24, which he takes not as referring to Jesus’ final state, the meaning the context demands, but to his earthly ministry and death (pp. 661–62).

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came to be” (17:5), a glory which he later in the prayer promises that his own might see (17:24). This is something greater for which he prays and which they will see, as in 1:51. Part of the basic structure of Johannine christology is that the complex event of Jesus’ death will bring about something greater. When Jesus (the Son of Man) is glorified and sends the Spirit, then greater understanding is possible – indeed this gospel will be able to be written! It will enable disciples to see the applicability of scripture such as Ps 69 to Jesus’ ministry and death (2:22) and understand what was really happening at his entry into Jerusalem (12:16). In 8:28 we hear the claim that the lifting up/exaltation of the Son of Man, will lead to people coming to know who he truly was. The twofold structure: earthly ministry manifesting glory, and return to heavenly glory as the basis for major new insights and new beginnings, finds expression both in sayings and the last discourses, on the one hand, and in the Easter narratives which preserve the traditional sequence of death, resurrection ascent, giving of the Spirit, and commissioning of the disciples. Read intratextually, therefore, 1:50–51 belongs to the many statements in the gospel in which Jesus promises something greater to come and means by that the event which comes at the climax of his ministry: his death, resurrection, exaltation, glorification, ascension and return to the Father. In particular, it focusses on one aspect of this greater event to come, namely the Son of Man’s exalted state. We have noted how this also makes good sense of the image itself and of its role in relation to what precedes in its narrative context. It also makes sense in the light of what follows in its narrative context, especially if we recognise multivalence as an aspect of the author’s writing. For at one level the miracle at Cana of Galilee presents Jesus as bringing the new wine which replaces or transforms the water from the six stone jars, a symbolic allusion to the gift of the Law which is now replaced in much the same way as the temple is now replaced by Jesus as the temple. That is indeed a manifestation on earth of the glory celebrated in 1:14. At another level, however, the Cana wedding symbolises the eucharistic gift of the risen one and the opening words “on the third day” may well intend an allusion to the resurrection. Within the narrative there is another direct allusion to the greater event, when Jesus responds to his mother: “My hour has not yet come” (2:4). “My hour”, “the hour”, “my time”, “now”, are used regularly throughout the narrative to refer to that greater event to come (7:6, 8, 30; 8:20; 12:27–28; 13:1; 16:5; 17:1, 5, 13), often in association with the Son of Man (12:23; 13:31–32) and its linked motifs of exaltation and glorification (but also judgement because this event exposes and so disempowers this world’s ruler) (12:31–32). This paper has attempted to give a coherent explanation of 1:50–51 within the narrative of the gospel. This includes a recognition that there is an intertextual link with Genesis 28, in particular with the motif of the angels

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ascending and descending and with the motif of Nathanael and his faith as exemplary and typologically as representing true Israel, corresponding to Jacob and what he saw. Do we need a ladder on which to climb for more meaning? I doubt it. The author does not mention it, but rather uses the link selectively in a way that now the angels focus their attention on the Son of Man. Do we need the Bethel stone on which to set up our interpretation? I think not. Portraying Jesus as the new temple would certainly cohere with the author’s christology and echo 1:14–18, but the author does not mention it in 1:50–51 and beyond that we are left with speculation. Do we need to see Jesus as typologically identified with Jacob? Again, no. Nothing in the text and its context suggests that the author is applying Jacob typology to Jesus rather than to Nathanael. More significantly, the image itself as well as the broader intratextual context does not suggest that 1:51 is pointing to what is to follow during Jesus’ ministry nor that it is focussing on Jesus’ role as revealer or as saviour (whether mainly in his ministry, or in his death, or in both). Rather it is best heard, I suggest, as one of a number of instances in the gospel where the earthly Jesus points forward to the greater event to come through which he will, to the eyes of unbelief, meet an inglorious end on the cross, but, to the eyes of faith, be exalted and glorified, ascending and returning to the Father. This is the end for which Jesus prays in 17:1, 5; and 1:50–51 finds its counterpart in Jesus’ prayer that his own might see him in that state of glory (17:24). 1:50–51 promises that they will.

4. John 3:13–15 Re-examining the Exaltation-Glorification-Ascension Nexus in John țĮ੿ Ƞ੝įİ੿Ȣ ਕȞĮȕ੼ȕȘțİȞ İੁȢ IJઁȞ Ƞ੝ȡĮȞઁȞ İੁ ȝ੽ ੒ ਥț IJȠ૨ Ƞ੝ȡĮȞȠ૨ țĮIJĮȕ੺Ȣ, ੒ ȣੂઁȢ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ. ȀĮ੿ țĮșઅȢ ȂȦȨıોȢ ੢ȥȦıİȞ IJઁȞ ੕ijȚȞ ਥȞ IJૌ ਥȡ੾ȝ૳, Ƞ੢IJȦȢ ਫ਼ȥȦșોȞĮȚ įİ૙ IJઁȞ ȣੂઁȞ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ, ੆ȞĮ ʌ઼Ȣ ੒ ʌȚıIJİ઄ȦȞ ਥȞ Į੝IJ૶ ਩Ȥૉ ȗȦ੽Ȟ ĮੁઆȞȚȠȞ. And no one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that anyone believing may have eternal life in him. (John 3:13–15)

The purpose of this paper is to review and evaluate common interpretations of 3:13–15 in the light of the immediate context and the context of the writing as a whole.

Lifting up the Snake and Lifting up the Son of Man The Source of Salvation Within these three verses the most dramatic image is that of Moses lifting up the snake in the wilderness, applied to Jesus the Son of Man. The allusion is to the story in Numbers 21 which tells how in response to the people’s impatience with Moses Yahweh sent poisonous snakes among them, causing some to die. 1 The people repent and God tells Moses to make a bronze snake and put it on a pole, so that anyone bitten by a poisonous snake can look up to the bronze snake and live. The analogy is loose with explicit and implicit connections. Explicitly, the Son of Man will be lifted up and when people believe in him they will obtain eternal life. Implicitly, people are in danger. They need eternal life. Otherwise they will face condemnation (3:18). The Son of Man will be lifted up onto a cross. In particular, there must be an implied understanding of why lifting the Son of Man onto the cross makes the gaining of eternal life

1 On the exegetical tradition in relation to the snake, see Jörg Frey, “Wie Mose die Schange in der Wüste erhöht hat ….” Zur frühjüdischen Deutung der ‘ehernen Schlange’ und ihrer christologischen Rezeption in Johannes 3,14f,” in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten. Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. J. Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 89–145.

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possible. The motif of looking, which belonged to the story in Numbers, may well be echoed in the use of Zech 12:10 in 19:37. 2 A common explanation is that the author has in mind what the death of the Son of Man achieves. The word ਫ਼ȥંȦ is used explicitly of the death of Jesus by crucifixion in 12:32–34, confirmed also by the reference to the prediction being fulfilled in 18:32. 3 In 8:28 similarly the author has Jesus use ਫ਼ȥંȦ of his death, referring to it as something which his unbelieving opponents would do: ੖IJĮȞ ਫ਼ȥઆıȘIJİ IJઁȞ ȣੂઁȞ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ.4 In traditional terms, he died for us. 5 The “for us” might be understood as vicarious or as sacrificial atonement, dealing with sins and so in that sense removing the basis for condemnation, or possibly as apotropaic, through the disempowering of the ruler of this world who, like the snake, brings death. The notion of Jesus’ death as vicarious or sacrificial has been traced in 1:29; 6:51; 10:11, 15, 17; 11:50–52; and 15:13, though each is debated.6 The notion that 2 Imagery of seeing occurs also in association with reference to Jesus as the Son of Man in 1:51, and 6:62. In 19:37 the author cites Zech 12:10 in relation to the spear thrust: “they shall look on him whom they have pierced.” See the discussion in Sanghee Michael Ahn, The Christological Witness Function of Old Testament Characters in the Gospel of John (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2014), 170–73; William Randolph Bynum, The Fourth Gospel and the Scriptures: Illuminating the Form and Meaning of Scriptural Citation in John 19:37, NovTSup 144 (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 171–74; H.-U. Weidemann, Der Tod Jesu im Johannesevangelium. Die erste Abschiedsrede als Schlüsseltext für den Passions- und Osterbericht, BZNW 122 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004), who notes that in Rev 1:7 it is applied to the parousia but here to Jesus’ death (p. 422). He links this also to seeing what he understands is the depiction of Jesus as the Passover lamb in 1:29, 36 (p. 129). Jörg Frey, “‘dass sie meine Herrlichkeit schauen’ (Joh 17,24). Zu Hintergrund, Sinn und Funktion der johanneischen Rede von der įંȟĮ Jesu,” in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten. Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. J. Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 639–62, sees a connection with 17:24, which he takes not as referring to Jesus’ final state, to his earthly ministry and death (pp. 661–62). 3 Cf. Wilhelm Thüsing, Die Erhöhung und Verherrlichung Jesu im Johannesevangelium, 3rd ed., NTAbh 21 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1979), who argues on the basis of ʌȠ઀૳ șĮȞ੺IJ૳ (literally: “what kind of death”) in 12:33, that it refers to Jesus’ death as of a kind that is salvific (p. 24). 18:32, however makes it clear that the mode of execution is intended. 4 Francis J. Moloney, “The Johannine Son of Man Revisited,” in Theology and Christology in the Fourth Gospel: Essays by the Members of the SNTS Johannine Writings Seminar, ed. G. van Belle, J. G. van der Watt, and P. Maritz, BETL 184 (Leuven: Peeters, 2005), 77–202, 187; Jörg Frey, “Die ‘theologia crucifixi’ des Johannevangeliums,” in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten. Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. J. Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 485–554, 545; William R. G. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel: Structure and Issues in Johannine Christology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017), 242. 5 Roland Bergmeier,“ȉǼȉǼȁǼȈȉǹǿ Joh 19,30,” ZNW 79 (1988): 281–90, 288; Frey, “theologia crucifixi,” 545. 6 See the recent discussion in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 148–202; and earlier Jörg Frey, “Edler Tod – wirksamer Tod – stellvertretender Tod – heilschaffender Tod: Zur

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Jesus’ death disempowered the ruler of this world is reflected in 12:31; 16:11, 33, and may also be implied in 1:29. I have little doubt that the author is familiar with these concepts. The words, ੆ȞĮ ʌ઼Ȣ ੒ ʌȚıIJİ઄ȦȞ ਥȞ Į੝IJ૶ ਩Ȥૉ ȗȦ੽Ȟ ĮੁઆȞȚȠȞ, imply that obtaining eternal life is something made possible only through and after Jesus’ death. The same promise, slightly differently formulated, occurs in the following verse. Ƞ੢IJȦȢ Ȗ੹ȡ ਱Ȗ੺ʌȘıİȞ ੒ șİઁȢ IJઁȞ țંıȝȠȞ, ੮ıIJİ IJઁȞ ȣੂઁȞ IJઁȞ ȝȠȞȠȖİȞો ਩įȦțİȞ, ੆ȞĮ ʌ઼Ȣ ੒ ʌȚıIJİ઄ȦȞ İੁȢ Į੝IJઁȞ ȝ੽ ਕʌંȜȘIJĮȚ ਕȜȜૅ ਩Ȥૉ ȗȦ੽Ȟ ĮੁઆȞȚȠȞ. Accordingly, 3:16 would then repeat the sense of 3:14–15 but refers to Jesus’ death as God’s giving up his Son. 7 The author may well be using traditional material at this point. ਥȟĮʌ੼ıIJİȚȜİȞ ੒ șİઁȢ IJઁȞ ȣੂઁȞ Į੝IJȠ૨, ȖİȞંȝİȞȠȞ ਥț ȖȣȞĮȚțંȢ, ȖİȞંȝİȞȠȞ ਫ਼ʌઁ ȞંȝȠȞ, ੆ȞĮ IJȠઃȢ ਫ਼ʌઁ ȞંȝȠȞ ਥȟĮȖȠȡ੺ıૉ, ੆ȞĮ IJ੽Ȟ ȣੂȠșİı઀ĮȞ ਕʌȠȜ੺ȕȦȝİȞ. God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the Law, so that he might liberate those under the Law, so that we might obtain the status of adopted sons. (Gal 4:4–5) ੖Ȣ Ȗİ IJȠ૨ ੁį઀Ƞȣ ȣੂȠ૨ Ƞ੝ț ਥijİ઀ıĮIJȠ ਕȜȜૅ ਫ਼ʌ੻ȡ ਲȝ૵Ȟ ʌ੺ȞIJȦȞ ʌĮȡ੼įȦțİȞ Į੝IJંȞ. Who indeed did not spare his only Son, but delivered him up on our behalf. (Rom 8:32). ੒ șİઁȢ IJઁȞ ਦĮȣIJȠ૨ ȣੂઁȞ ʌ੼ȝȥĮȢ ਥȞ ੒ȝȠȚઆȝĮIJȚ ıĮȡțઁȢ ਖȝĮȡIJ઀ĮȢ țĮ੿ ʌİȡ੿ ਖȝĮȡIJ઀ĮȢ țĮIJ੼țȡȚȞİȞ IJ੽Ȟ ਖȝĮȡIJ઀ĮȞ ਥȞ IJૌ ıĮȡț઀. God sending his Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin condemned sin in the flesh. (Rom 8:3) IJȠ૨ įંȞIJȠȢ ਦĮȣIJઁȞ ਫ਼ʌ੻ȡ IJ૵Ȟ ਖȝĮȡIJȚ૵Ȟ ਲȝ૵Ȟ, ੖ʌȦȢ ਥȟ੼ȜȘIJĮȚ ਲȝ઼Ȣ ਥț IJȠ૨ Įੁ૵ȞȠȢ IJȠ૨ ਥȞİıIJ૵IJȠȢ ʌȠȞȘȡȠ૨ who gave himself for our sins, so that he might rescue us from the present evil age. (Gal 1:4) IJȠ૨ ȣੂȠ૨ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨ IJȠ૨ ਕȖĮʌ੾ıĮȞIJંȢ ȝİ țĮ੿ ʌĮȡĮįંȞIJȠȢ ਦĮȣIJઁȞ ਫ਼ʌ੻ȡ ਥȝȠ૨. the Son of God who loved me and delivered himself up on my behalf. (Gal 2:20) țĮșઅȢ țĮ੿ ੒ ȋȡȚıIJઁȢ ਱Ȗ੺ʌȘıİȞ IJ੽Ȟ ਥțțȜȘı઀ĮȞ țĮ੿ ਦĮȣIJઁȞ ʌĮȡ੼įȦțİȞ ਫ਼ʌ੻ȡ Į੝IJોȢ. as also Christ loved the church and delivered himself up on her behalf. (Eph 5:25)

The notion that eternal life is something which lies in the future, that is, something available after Jesus’ death occurs also in 6:51–58, where most see narrativen und theologischen Deutung des Todes Jesu im Johannesevangelium,” in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten. Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. J. Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 555–84. 7 Craig S. Keener, The Gospel of John. A Commentary, 2 vols. (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2005), 566–70; Udo Schnelle, Das Evangelium nach Johannes, THNT 4, 2nd ed. (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2016), 108–109; J. Ramsey Michaels, The Gospel of John, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 262; Hartwig Thyen, Das Johannesevangelium, HNT 6 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 214; Frey, “Edler Tod,” 582.

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an allusion to eucharistic tradition, but in any case where future benefit resulting from Jesus’ death is in mind and so should probably be seen in these terms also in 6:27 (ਥȡȖ੺ȗİıșİ ȝ੽ IJ੽Ȟ ȕȡ૵ıȚȞ IJ੽Ȟ ਕʌȠȜȜȣȝ੼ȞȘȞ ਕȜȜ੹ IJ੽Ȟ ȕȡ૵ıȚȞ IJ੽Ȟ ȝ੼ȞȠȣıĮȞ İੁȢ ȗȦ੽Ȟ ĮੁઆȞȚȠȞ, ਴Ȟ ੒ ȣੂઁȢ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ įઆıİȚ). In both instances, as in 3:14–15, this benefit is spoken of in association with Jesus as the Son of Man. This is also the case in 12:32, țਕȖઅ ਥ੹Ȟ ਫ਼ȥȦș૵ ਥț IJોȢ ȖોȢ, ʌ੺ȞIJĮȢ ਦȜț઄ıȦ ʌȡઁȢ ਥȝĮȣIJંȞ, where Son of Man is implied as 12:34 confirms (ʌ૵Ȣ Ȝ੼ȖİȚȢ ıઃ ੖IJȚ įİ૙ ਫ਼ȥȦșોȞĮȚ IJઁȞ ȣੂઁȞ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ; IJ઀Ȣ ਥıIJȚȞ Ƞ੤IJȠȢ ੒ ȣੂઁȢ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ;), and also ਫ਼ȥંȦ occurs. The same notion of eternal life as gift for the future after Jesus’ death is present in 7:37–39. The interpretation of 3:14–15 as referring to Christ’s death as effecting vicarious or sacrificial atonement appears to make good sense of what the statement implied. It is also possible that the notion of disempowering the ruler of this world is indicated. Are there other possibilities, either as alternatives or in addition to these? Some indicators point in this direction. In what follows I review them.

Lifting Up and Exaltation As already noted, the author uses ਫ਼ȥંȦ to refer to Jesus’ death, in particular, to his being lifted up onto a cross in crucifixion. We might then translate it loosely as “to crucify”. Is that all8 or is there more to it? The question is partly raised by the way in which the word ਫ਼ȥંȦ functions elsewhere in early Christian tradition but partly also by closer consideration of its usage in John. The word ਫ਼ȥંȦ can also refer to Jesus’ being lifted up in a different sense, namely to God, as exaltation, as the following texts show: IJૌ įİȟȚઽ Ƞ੣Ȟ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨ ਫ਼ȥȦșİ઀Ȣ, IJ੾Ȟ IJİ ਥʌĮȖȖİȜ઀ĮȞ IJȠ૨ ʌȞİ઄ȝĮIJȠȢ IJȠ૨ ਖȖ઀Ƞȣ ȜĮȕઅȞ ʌĮȡ੹ IJȠ૨ ʌĮIJȡંȢ, ਥȟ੼ȤİİȞ IJȠ૨IJȠ ੔ ਫ਼ȝİ૙Ȣ [țĮ੿] ȕȜ੼ʌİIJİ țĮ੿ ਕțȠ઄İIJİ. Having been lifted up/exalted to the right hand of God and receiving the promise of the Holy Spirit from the Father, he has poured out this which you [also] see and hear. (Acts 2:33) IJȠ૨IJȠȞ ੒ șİઁȢ ਕȡȤȘȖઁȞ țĮ੿ ıȦIJોȡĮ ੢ȥȦıİȞ IJૌ įİȟȚઽ Į੝IJȠ૨ [IJȠ૨] įȠ૨ȞĮȚ ȝİIJ੺ȞȠȚĮȞ IJ૶ ੉ıȡĮ੽Ȝ țĮ੿ ਙijİıȚȞ ਖȝĮȡIJȚ૵Ȟ. This one God has lifted up/exalted to his right hand as leader and saviour to give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins. (Acts 5:31) įȚઁ țĮ੿ ੒ șİઁȢ Į੝IJઁȞ ਫ਼ʌİȡ઄ȥȦıİȞ țĮ੿ ਥȤĮȡ઀ıĮIJȠ Į੝IJ૶ IJઁ ੕ȞȠȝĮ IJઁ ਫ਼ʌ੻ȡ ʌ઼Ȟ ੕ȞȠȝĮ. wherefore also God has lifted/exalted him on high and given him the name which is above every name. (Phil 2:9)

8

See the extended discussion in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 242–61.

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This raises the possibility that the author plays with two different meanings of the word.9 It certainly means crucifixion but could also mean: being lifted up to God’s presence. It would then be typical of the author’s use of double entendre, not as meaning two different things, but as meaning at one level just crucifixion and at another level the crucifixion plus much more. Unfaith sees only crucifixion. Faith sees crucifixion as the beginning of an event which uplifts Jesus to God’s presence. As Reynolds puts it, “The exaltation of the descended one begins at his crucifixion and is completed in his ascent to the right hand of God.”10 Similarly Ashton writes: “The Christian believer is not expected to see the crucifixion as a kind of exaltation or glorification but to see past the physical reality of Jesus’ death to its true significance: the re-ascent of the Son of Man to his true home in heaven.” 11 It is very likely that Isa 52:13 has had an impact on the author’s usage.12 ǿįȠઃ ıȣȞ੾ıİȚ ੒ ʌĮ૙Ȣ ȝȠȣ țĮ੿ ਫ਼ȥȦș੾ıİIJĮȚ țĮ੿ įȠȟĮıș੾ıİIJĮȚ ıijંįȡĮ. “Behold my servant shall understand and shall be lifted up/exalted and glorified exceedingly” (Isa 52:13). In Isaiah this refers to God’s response to the servant’s suffering and death, not to the suffering and death, itself. A similar use of the two verbs ਫ਼ȥંȦ and įȠȟ੺ȗȦ in the context of vindication is also to be found in 9 So Georg Bertram, “ਫ਼ȥંȦ,” TDNT 7 (1971), 606–13, 610; Thüsing, Erhöhung, 36–37; Francis J. Moloney, The Johannine Son of Man, 2nd ed., BSR 14 (Rome: Las, 1978), 61 n. 102; Gerd Lüdemann, “ਫ਼ȥંȦ,” EWNT 3 (1982), 982; Frey, “theologia crucifixi,” 545. George R. Beasley-Murray, “John 12,31–32: The Eschatological Significance of the Lifting Up of the Son of Man,” in Studien zum Text und zur Ethik des Neuen Testaments. Festschrift für H. Greeven, ed. W. Schrage, BZNW 167 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1986), 70–81, 71–72. 10 Benjamin E. Reynolds, The Apocalyptic Son of Man in the Gospel of John, WUNT 2.249 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 127, similarly, pp. 172, 198. 11 John Ashton, Understanding the Fourth Gospel, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 471, similarly, p. 268; and John Ashton, “The Johannine Son of Man: A New Proposal,” NTS 57 (2011): 508–29, 525. See also Dorothy A. Lee, Flesh and Glory: Symbolism, Gender and Theology in the Gospel of John (New York: Crossroad, 2002), 35, 79; Ferdinand Hahn, Theologie des Neuen Testaments. 2 Bände (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 1.649–50; Weidemann, Tod Jesu, 105, 126; Michaels, John, 697; Delbert Burkett, The Son of Man in the Gospel of John, JSNTSup 56 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991), 122; Keener, John, 565–66; N. Chibici-Revneanu, Die Herrlichkeit des Verherrlichten. Das Verständnis der įިȟĮ im Johannesevangelium, WUNT 2.231 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 616. 12 Marianne Meye Thompson, John (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2015), 85; George R. Beasley-Murray, John, 2nd ed., WBC 36 (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1999), lxxxiv; Burkett, Son of Man, 120, 127; Robert Rhea, The Johannine Son of Man, ATANT 76 (Zürich: TVZ, 1990), 70; Frey, “theologia crucifixi,” 540–41; Frey, “Edler Tod,” 566; Catrin H. Williams, “He saw His Glory and Spoke about Him”: The Testimony of Isaiah and Johannine Christology,” in Honouring the Past and Shaping the Future: Religious and Biblical Studies in Wales. Essays in Honour of Gareth Lloyd Jones (Leominster: Gracewing, 2003), 53–80, 68; Keener, John, 873; Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 210; Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 244.

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Isa 5:16; 33:10; 45:25.13 The use of ਫ਼ȥંȦ and įȠȟ੺ȗȦ in these contexts supports the idea that in John they are being used similarly, but not just to depict what follows Jesus’ suffering and death, but also to include his suffering and death as part of the meaning in a manner typical of Johannine irony. Closer examination of the use of ਫ਼ȥંȦ in John indicates that indeed John is playing with this double or extended meaning. We see this in what at one level is the clearest reference to lifting up as referring to Jesus’ death, namely 12:32. 14 țਕȖઅ ਥ੹Ȟ ਫ਼ȥȦș૵ ਥț IJોȢ ȖોȢ, ʌ੺ȞIJĮȢ ਦȜț઄ıȦ ʌȡઁȢ ਥȝĮȣIJંȞ. “And I, if I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all to me.” This statement must not be understood in isolation from its context.15 In 12:20 the author reports that “Greeks” approached Philip, wanting to see Jesus. Philip and Andrew then report this to Jesus. His response is as follows: ਥȜ੾ȜȣșİȞ ਲ ੮ȡĮ ੆ȞĮ įȠȟĮıșૌ ੒ ȣੂઁȢ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ. “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified” (12:23). Taken in isolation, it appears to have little relevance to the request, but then he adds: ਕȝ੽Ȟ ਕȝ੽Ȟ Ȝ੼ȖȦ ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ, ਥ੹Ȟ ȝ੽ ੒ țંțțȠȢ IJȠ૨ ı઀IJȠȣ ʌİıઅȞ İੁȢ IJ੽Ȟ ȖોȞ ਕʌȠș੺Ȟૉ, Į੝IJઁȢ ȝંȞȠȢ ȝ੼ȞİȚ· ਥ੹Ȟ į੻ ਕʌȠș੺Ȟૉ, ʌȠȜઃȞ țĮȡʌઁȞ ij੼ȡİȚ. Truly, truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. (12:24)

The reference to his death is clear, but so is its effect. It will lead to the bearing of much fruit. This is almost certainly a reference to mission, and gentile mission in particular. In that sense it finds its echo in the statement, țਕȖઅ ਥ੹Ȟ ਫ਼ȥȦș૵ ਥț IJોȢ ȖોȢ, ʌ੺ȞIJĮȢ ਦȜț઄ıȦ ʌȡઁȢ ਥȝĮȣIJંȞ (12:32). The fact of the coming gentile mission is attributed to Jesus’ being lifted up. One could limit this to a reference to Jesus’ death as an act of vicarious or sacrificial atonement, so that, if spelled out, it would mean: this act will achieve atonement for all and so all can be told of its benefit and come to me to receive it. Or one could refer to the immediately preceding verse where Jesus declares: Ȟ૨Ȟ țȡ઀ıȚȢ ਥıIJ੿Ȟ IJȠ૨ țંıȝȠȣ IJȠ઄IJȠȣ, Ȟ૨Ȟ ੒ ਙȡȤȦȞ IJȠ૨ țંıȝȠȣ IJȠ઄IJȠȣ ਥțȕȜȘș੾ıİIJĮȚ ਩ȟȦ· Spelled out, it would mean: I will disempower the ruler of this world and all can be told of this benefit and come to me to receive it. Either way, there is still much to be filled out between Jesus’ death and gentile mission which will result in people coming to him to receive eternal life. It includes the sending of the Spirit and the sending of the disciples but it also includes what happens to Jesus after and through his death and beyond his resurrection. This is the relevance of the initial statement ਥȜ੾ȜȣșİȞ ਲ ੮ȡĮ ੆ȞĮ įȠȟĮıșૌ ੒ ȣੂઁȢ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ. For 13 See Walter Klaiber, “Die Aufgabe einer theologischen Interpretation des vierten Evangeliums,” ZTK 82 (1985): 300–24, 316. 14 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 135–36, 244–45. 15 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 88–89, 220–21.

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it is only after he is glorified, that is, returns to the glory of the Father that he sends the Spirit and commissions the disciples for mission, as the last discourses and the passion narrative explain. This already suggests that the lifting up, for the eyes of faith, means both his death and his exaltation to God’s presence, not just his death alone. The occurrence of ਫ਼ȥંȦ in 8:28 also suggests double meaning. 16 İੇʌİȞ Ƞ੣Ȟ [Į੝IJȠ૙Ȣ] ੒ ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȣ· ੖IJĮȞ ਫ਼ȥઆıȘIJİ IJઁȞ ȣੂઁȞ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ, IJંIJİ ȖȞઆıİıșİ ੖IJȚ ਥȖઆ İੁȝȚ, țĮ੿ ਕʌૅ ਥȝĮȣIJȠ૨ ʌȠȚ૵ Ƞ੝į੼Ȟ, ਕȜȜ੹ țĮșઅȢ ਥį઀įĮȟ੼Ȟ ȝİ ੒ ʌĮIJ੽ȡ IJĮ૨IJĮ ȜĮȜ૵. Therefore Jesus said [to them], “When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will know that I am the one, and that I do nothing of myself, but as my Father taught me I speak of these things. (8:28)

Here the sequence is: Jesus’ crucifixion followed by his opponents’ coming to know who he is. This might imply that the crucifixion will itself reveal who Jesus is, but more likely the author refers to a knowing made possible by what begins with the crucifixion.17 Indeed this is a standard pattern in the author’s thought repeated again and again. It is when Jesus returns, exalted and glorified, to the Father that he sends the Spirit, who will make him known, helping his disciples recall and discern his significance (7:39; 12:16; and extensively in the last discourses)18 and confronting his opponents with the reality of their sin, his rightness and the condemnation of the ruler of the world (16:8–11).19 The statement in 8:28 occurs as the climax of an interchange in which the author again plays with double meaning when he has Jesus speak of going away and that they cannot come where he is going (8:21–24). This play appears already in 7:33–36, where in subtle irony the author has his opponents ponder in puzzlement where is going, wondering if he is going to the Greeks. John’s readers would smilingly recognise here a reference to the gentile mission. The author then has Jesus repeat the statement about going away in 13:33, which provides a framework of thought for Jesus’ farewell discourses, in which he explains that he goes to the Father and will send the Spirit and enable them to do even greater works, reaching out into the wider world. There, too, we have a close association with a statement about the glorification of the Son of Man. ੜIJİ Ƞ੣Ȟ ਥȟોȜșİȞ, Ȝ੼ȖİȚ ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȣ· Ȟ૨Ȟ ਥįȠȟ੺ıșȘ ੒ ȣੂઁȢ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ țĮ੿ ੒ șİઁȢ ਥįȠȟ੺ıșȘ ਥȞ Į੝IJ૶· [İੁ ੒ șİઁȢ ਥįȠȟ੺ıșȘ ਥȞ Į੝IJ૶], țĮ੿ ੒ șİઁȢ įȠȟ੺ıİȚ Į੝IJઁȞ ਥȞ Į੝IJ૶, țĮ੿ İ੝șઃȢ įȠȟ੺ıİȚ Į੝IJંȞ.

16

Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 84–85, 242–43. John Painter, The Quest for the Messiah: The History, Literature and Theology of the Johannine Community, 2nd ed. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1993), 337; Reynolds, Apocalyptic Son of Man, 123–24. 18 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 135–36. 19 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 242–43; Thüsing, Erhöhung, 15, 21. 17

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When therefore he left, Jesus said, “Now is the Son of Man glorified and G0d is glorified in him; if God is glorified in him] God will also glorify him in himself and glorify him immediately.” (13:31–32)

This statement finds it echo in Jesus’ final prayer20 where he prays: ʌ੺IJİȡ, ਥȜ੾ȜȣșİȞ ਲ ੮ȡĮ· įંȟĮıંȞ ıȠȣ IJઁȞ ȣੂંȞ, ੆ȞĮ ੒ ȣੂઁȢ įȠȟ੺ıૉ ı੼, … Father, the hour has come. Glorify your Son, so that your Son may glorify you, … (17:1) țĮ੿ Ȟ૨Ȟ įંȟĮıંȞ ȝİ ı઄, ʌ੺IJİȡ, ʌĮȡ੹ ıİĮȣIJ૶ IJૌ įંȟૉ ઞ İੇȤȠȞ ʌȡઁ IJȠ૨ IJઁȞ țંıȝȠȞ İੇȞĮȚ ʌĮȡ੹ ıȠ઀. And now glorify me with yourself with the glory which I had with you before the world existed. (17:5) Cf. also Ȇ੺IJİȡ, ੔ į੼įȦț੺Ȣ ȝȠȚ, ș੼ȜȦ ੆ȞĮ ੖ʌȠȣ İੁȝ੿ ਥȖઅ țਕțİ૙ȞȠȚ ੯ıȚȞ ȝİIJૅ ਥȝȠ૨, ੆ȞĮ șİȦȡ૵ıȚȞ IJ੽Ȟ įંȟĮȞ IJ੽Ȟ ਥȝ੾Ȟ, ਴Ȟ į੼įȦț੺Ȣ ȝȠȚ ੖IJȚ ਱Ȗ੺ʌȘı੺Ȣ ȝİ ʌȡઁ țĮIJĮȕȠȜોȢ țંıȝȠȣ. Father, with regard to what you have given me, my desire is that they, too, may be with me where I am, so that they may see my glory, which you have given me because you have loved me from the foundation of the world. (17:24)

The return to glory, the glorification, makes the sending of the Spirit and the sending of the disciples and so makes possible the offer of eternal life to all. Being lifted up, to the eyes of faith, means more than crucifixion. It means also exaltation to God’s presence and so is associated with glorification, ascension, return, and the blessings which flow as a result.

Exaltation Referring only to the Cross? Not all will agree that the author uses ਫ਼ȥંȦ to refer both to Jesus’ death and to the event it inaugurates, his exaltation to God’s presence in glory.21 Frey, for instance, while acknowledging the double meaning as crucify and exaltation and its use for post Easter exaltation in Christian tradition, argues that the author departs from that tradition in using it of Jesus’ death and only of Jesus’ death. Jesu Erhöhung wird nicht mehr wie in der Tradition als ein postmortaler Akt der Inthronisation begriffen, sondern als ein Geschehen, das sich in paradoxerweise am Kreuz selbst ereignet hat, wie auch umgekehrt die Kreuzigung als Inthronisation stilisiert ist and der Sterbende mit seinem letzten Wort IJİIJ੼ȜİıIJĮȚ (Joh 19,30; anders Mk 15,34 parr.) seinen Sieg proklamiert. 22

20

Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 216–20. See the discussion in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 242–43. 22 Jörg Frey, Die johanneische Eschatologie I – III, WUNT 96, 110, 117 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997–2000), 3.278. See also Rudolf Schnackenburg, Die Person Jesu Christi im 21

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Doch hält der Evangelist gerade im Kontext von Joh 12,32–34 fest, dass er das Lexem sehr konkret auf den Akt der Kreuzigung Jesu bezogen wissen will, die nun eben durch die Verwendung dieses terminus im Lichte der nachösterlichen Erkenntnis als Heilsgeschehen zur Sprache kommt. Andererseits zeigt der von der urchristlichen Verwendung des terminus ਫ਼ȥȠ૨Ȟ abweichende Gebrauch deutlich, dass der Evangelist auch im Lichte des Ostergeschehens und der Geistesgabe dem Kreuz, ja noch konkreter: dem Akt der Kreuzigung Jesu eine bleibende Bedeutung beimessen will.23

The exaltation he sees as enthronement, which he argues the author sees as occurring in his death.24 The effect is to extract the motif ਫ਼ȥંȦ from its nexus association with Son of Man, glorification and the hour and associate it instead with royal messianic enthronement.25 The latter is, indeed, its context in tradition, as we have seen and there is clearly an exploitation of irony in the passion narrative which celebrates that Jesus is the royal messiah. 26 The cross, then, is the place of enthronement, as Udo Schnelle writes: “Sitting at God’s right hand is sitting on the cross.”27 Spiegel der vier Evangelien, HThKS 4 (Freiburg: Herder, 1993), 289; similarly, Thomas Söding, “Kreuzerhöhung. Zur Deutung des Todes Jesu nach Johannes,” ZTK 103 (2006): 2– 25, 13, though he sees it as foreshadowing Jesus’ return and exaltation to the right hand of the Father; Moloney, “Son of Man Revisited,” who argues that the metaphorical meaning needs also to be restricted to interpreting the crucifixion (p. 187); Catherine Cory, “Wisdom’s Rescue: A New Reading of the Tabernacles Discourse (John 7:1–8:59),” JBL 116 (1997): 95–116, who writes: “Jesus’ vindication and exaltation do not simply follow his death, but rather they coincide with the moment of his death, so that his exaltation is his rescue from death” (p. 106). Cf. also Jan Bühner, Der Gesandte und sein Weg im 4. Evangelium, WUNT 2.2 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1977), that on the cross an action was taking place at two levels (simultaneously lifting up on the cross and heavenly enthronement) (pp. 396–97); and Wolfgang J. Bittner, Jesu Zeichen im Johannesevangelium, WUNT 2.26 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987), who argues that “lifting up” is primarily a messianic image based on the lifted ensign of Isa 11:11 (p. 254). 23 Frey, “theologia crucifixi,” 545–46. 24 In Frey, “Edler Tod,” he appears to separate two events, exaltation to the Father in his death and return to the Father after death: “Dabei ist die Rede vom Tod überlagert von Sinndeutungen, die diesen Tod als Erhöhung – doppeldeutig: am Kreuz und zum Vater – und als Verherrlichung beschrieben, als Hingang zum Vater (13,3; 16,10 etc.) und als Sieg über den Kosmos (16,33) und ihren Herrscher” (p. 559). 25 On this see Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 228–29. 26 Frey, “Edler Tod,” writes: “In subtiler Ironie wird seine Verurteilung und seine Kreuzigung als eine zynisch-antijüdische Königsparodie dargestellt, deren tiefe christologische Wahrheit sich doch den Augen des Glaubens erschliesst: Das Kreuz ist in Wahrheit der Königsthron, und in seinem Tod tritt der König seine ȕĮıȚȜİ઀Į an, von der er gegenüber Pilatus spricht (18,36f)” (p. 559). 27 Udo Schnelle, “Cross and Resurrection in the Gospel of John,” in The Resurrection of Jesus in the Gospel of John, ed. C. Koester and R. Bieringer (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 127–51, 147; Udo Schnelle, Antidoketische Christologie im Johannesevangelium. Eine Untersuchung zur Stellung des vierten Evangeliums in der johanneischen Schule (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1987), 208, 256. See also Andrew T. Lincoln, The

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The difficulty with this position is that the motif ਫ਼ȥંȦ cannot easily be separated from its nexus of associations which interpret the total event, which include Jesus’ death but also his exaltation and return, ascended to glory, as something greater than confessing and acknowledging him as the Messiah. “Messianic motifs are consistently related in John to the status of the Son as the revealer, not to any notion of his death or his return to the Father as enthronement. Return to the Father and what it entails is never interpreted using messianic or royal enthronement motifs.”28 It is as the crucified one that Jesus is exalted to glory.29 Frey can at times acknowledge the nexus between return, exaltation, and glorification, as in his comment: Nur durch ein angemessenenes Verstehen dieses Todes – als Hingang zum Vater, Erhöhung, Verherrlichung und Herrschaftsantritt – kann die Jüngergemeinde die ihr begegnenden Anfechtungen in dieser Zeit bestehen und ‘glauben’ (Joh 14,1.29). 30

Exaltation and Glorification Referring only to the Cross? Many, like Frey, who limit the reference of ਫ਼ȥંȦ to Jesus’ death, differentiate it from glorification, which entails return to heavenly glory. 31 Others, however, argue that the author limits not only exaltation but also glorification to the event of Jesus’ death.32 Bultmann saw the language of coming, descending, and returning, ascending, as mythological and so argued that the author meant not real pre-existence and then a return to glory, but the paradox of glory in

Gospel According to Saint John, BNTC 4 (London: Continuum, 2005), 478; Alfons Dauer, Die Passionsgeschichte im Johannesevangelium, SANT 30 (München: Kösel, 1972), 249– 50. Some speak rather of the cross as symbolising Jesus’ continuing kingship. So Bittner, Zeichen, 248; P. Pokorny, “Der irdische Jesus im Johannesevangelium,” NTS 30 (1984): 217–28, 218, 222. 28 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 229. 29 Michael E. Theobald, Das Evangelium nach Johannes. Kapitel 1 – 12 (Regensburg: Pustet, 2009), rightly observes that that crucifixion and exaltation are not identical, the former the beginning of the latter which includes return to the Father (p. .264); similarly Ulrich B. Müller, Die Menschwerdung des Gottessohnes. Frühchristliche Inkarnationsvorstellungen und die Anfänge des Doketismus, SBS 140 (Stuttgart: KBW, 1990), 74; Keener, John, 1052. 30 Frey, “theologia crucifixi,” 509. 31 E.g., Thüsing, Erhöhung, 24–28, 33, 302–303; Jacob Jervell, Jesus in the Gospel of John (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1984), 58, 60, 72; E. Schillebeeckx, Christ: The Christian Experience in the Modern World (London: SCM, 1980), 409–10. 32 So Moloney, Son of Man, 63, 176–78, 207, 210; Moloney, “Son of Man Revisited,” 185; Schnelle, Christologie, 208, 250; Udo Schnelle, “Die Tempelreinigung und die Christologie des Johannesevangeliums,” NTS 42 (1996): 359–73, 366–67. See the discussion in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 224–25.

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humiliation in the crucified one.33 Martyrdoms would be seen as similarly glorious and we should not rule out the possibility that the author extends the irony of his depiction to the cross.34 Then what unfaith saw as humiliation, faith saw as glorification.35 But faith saw it as glorious not as the defiant glory of martyrdom but as part of the journey that would lead to ultimate return to the glory he shared with the Father before the world began.36 It is nevertheless paradoxical37 but not in a way that is limited just to the event of the cross.38 “The Johannine paradox lies less in the juxtaposition of glory and suffering which confronts human confidence and challenges human self-sufficiency and more in the notion that the pathway to glory for the Son as for the believers is the pathway of obedience that leads through suffering.”39 As Frey observes: So sehr die Verherrlichung Jesu bei Johannes streng auf den Tod Jesu und damit auf das Kreuzesgeschehen bezogen ist und nicht ein davon abgelöstes, selbstständiges Ereignes bezeichnet, impliziert die Rede von der Verherrlichung doch zusätzliche Aspekte über den blossen Tod Jesu hinaus: zur Verherrlichung des Sohnes gehört sein Sterben am Kreuz ebenso wie seine Auferweckung und seine lebendige Gegenwart.40

Statements about glorification have to be read not least in the light of references to Jesus’ glorification in his final prayer (17:1–5), which has a key role in informing the meaning of the narrative as a whole and its imagery, including 13:31–32 which it echoes. As Ashton rightly observes, “‘lifting up’ and 33 Rudolf Bultmann, Das Evangelium des Johannes, KEKNT (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1968), 189, 330–31; Rudolf Bultmann, Theologie des Neuen Testaments (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1977), 408. 34 Martinus C. de Boer, Johannine Perspectives on the Death of Jesus, CBET 17 (Kampen: Pharos, 1996), suggests that the author may indeed be helping his hearers cope with the prospect of suffering and death for their faith (p. 185, similarly, pp. 172, 188–89); see also Ashton, “Johannine Son of Man,” 525–26. 35 Lincoln, John, who writes of the Son of Man’s humiliation and suffering as his glory (p. 153); R. G. Hamerton-Kelly, Pre-existence, Wisdom and the Son of Man, SNTSMS 21 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973): “whose finest hour was the hour of his death” (p. 199). 36 Reynolds, Apocalyptic Son of Man, writes of “two moments” of glorification (p. 210): “For John there is a realized glorification of the Son of Man (in his hour) but there remains an expectation of his future glorification” (p. 210). It makes better sense to me to see it as a single complex event. 37 So Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John. (2 vols; AB 29/29A; New York: Doubleday, 1966/1970), 610; Rudolf Schnackenburg, Das Johannesevangelium, 2. Teil, HTKNT 4.2 (Freiburg: Herder, 1977), 480; Rudolf Schnackenburg, Das Johannesevangelium, 3. Teil, HTKNT 4.3 (Freiburg: Herder, 1982), 54–57; Schnackenburg, Person Jesu Christi, 295; Beasley-Murray, John, 211, 246. 38 See the discussion in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 227–28, 246–48. 39 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 228. 40 Frey, Eschatologie, citing Ferdinand Hahn, “ȣੂંȢ,” EWNT 3 (1982), 911–38, 923 (3.218–19); similarly, Frey, “Edler Tod,” 559, 655–56.

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‘glorification’ are alternative and complementary ways of speaking of the same event.”41 “It is not, as Bultmann affirms, that the glory is to be found in humiliation, but rather that what the world sees as a defeat is really a triumph, and what the world sees as the end of Jesus’ hopes and aspirations is really the beginning of his ascent into glory.” 42 Of the conflict over the reference of glorification in John, Hurtado writes: “Loader has the better of it contending that in GJohn the glorification of Jesus is not simply his suffering, but through his suffering to a heavenly status with God.” 43

The Exaltation-Glorification-Ascension Nexus There is, therefore, a nexus of images in the fourth gospel, which the author uses to depict the significance of the complex event of Jesus’ death and return to the Father.44 Most commonly it includes: – the title, Son of Man: 1:51; 3:13–14; 8:28; 12:23, 32–34; 13:31–32. – lifting up/exaltation (ਫ਼ȥંȦ): 3:14; 8:28; 12:32–34; cf. also 1:51. – glorification (įȠȟ੺ȗȦ): 12:23; 13:31–32; 17:1, 5; 7:39; 12:16; 11:4. – ascent (ਕȞĮȕĮ઀ȞȦ): 3:13; 6:62; 7:9; 20:17. – the hour (also the “time” or “now”) 2:4; 7:6, 8; 7:30; 8:20; 12:23, 27–28, 31–34; 13:1, 31– 32; 16:5; 17:1, 5. – the event as “something greater”: 1:50–51; 3:12–15; 6:61–62; 14:12–13, 28; cf. also 5:27.

The nexus refers to the event as the “hour”, and employs the language of exaltation and glorification with subtle meaning to refer not to the death alone, nor the return to exalted glory alone, but paradoxically to both, because what unfaith saw as utmost humiliation is the beginning of what faith sees as utmost exaltation and glorification. The event thus inaugurates what is also the Son of Man’s ascent and the return of the Son to the Father. This nexus is part of the deep story or structure which consistently underlies the narrative, enabling the author to use it to dramatic effect. Alongside this

41

Ashton, Fourth Gospel, 470. Ashton, Fourth Gospel, 471. 43 Larry W. Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity (Grand Rapids, Eerdmans, 2003), 376 n. 56. 44 On this see Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, arguing that it forms part of the central structure of the author’s christology (pp. 121–44) and on the relation of its parts including the Son of Man nexus: pp. 422–36, 439–40. Moloney, “Son of Man Revisited,” argues that “1,51; 3:14; 8:28 and 12,32 should be removed from any discussion of the ascent-descent of the Son of Man,” and that nine of the thirteen “sayings can be interpreted as associated with the earthly activity of Jesus: the one in whom a lasting revelation takes place (1,51; 6,27), when he is lifted up on a cross (3,14; 6,53; 8,28; 12,34)” (pp. 189–90), but this fragments the author’s christology in a way that compromises the gospel’s narrative integrity. 42

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are other clusters of motifs, including that of royal messiahship. 45 The passion narrative in John and the other gospels plays with the irony of Jesus being the Messiah, King of the Jews, crowned with a crown of thorns. In John’s passion narrative these royal messianic motifs are celebrating the significant claim made about Jesus already during his ministry, that Jesus is indeed the Christ, the King of Israel, the Son of God. While ਫ਼ȥંȦ is used traditionally in royal messianic christology to describe Christ’s exaltation to God’s right hand, in the fourth gospel ਫ਼ȥંȦ is not associated with royal messianic motifs, but with motifs associated with the glorification and ascension of the Son of Man. The presence of royal messianic irony in John’s passion narrative does not require that the language of exaltation and glorification also be confined to depicting Jesus’ death, for this language has as its focus the event as a whole, climaxing in the Son’s return to the Father, in a way that is not the case with the royal messianic imagery.

Reading 3:13–15 in Context When we look at 3:13–15, we cannot do so without taking into account the nexus of motifs associated with Son of Man, including exaltation, glorification, and ascension and the span of its horizon. For this same nexus also inform 3:13–15. I am assuming that we are dealing with a document which needs to be read as a whole. While some of its first hearers may have been unfamiliar with its concepts, this would hardly be the case for most, as though the author now speaks for the first time. This means that it is appropriate to listen as they would likely listen, already with some knowledge of the use of such terms. This would certainly be the case for the author who is hardly writing 3:13–15 without being aware of what he might write later in the document. When 3:13–15 is read within its immediate context, the impact of this nexus of ideas is clear to see. The confrontation between Jesus and Nicodemus had focused on his need to go beyond the wonder worker teacher christology and be born from above so that he could truly understand the who Jesus was in his ministry. The confrontation reaches a new level when Jesus declares: İੁ IJ੹ ਥʌ઀ȖİȚĮ İੇʌȠȞ ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ țĮ੿ Ƞ੝ ʌȚıIJİ઄İIJİ, ʌ૵Ȣ ਥ੹Ȟ İ੅ʌȦ ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ IJ੹ ਥʌȠȣȡ੺ȞȚĮ ʌȚıIJİ઄ıİIJİ; If I told you earthly things and you do not believe, how are you going to believe if I tell you heavenly things? (3:12)

What Jesus has argued thus far – which is not insignificant or to be reduced to physical details – he refers to as ਥʌ઀ȖİȚĮ. There is more. The ਥʌȠȣȡ੺ȞȚĮ refer to what the author now explains in 3:13–15, significantly using the language of

45

On this see Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 436–39.

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ascension and exaltation in association with the title, Son of Man.46 Having referred to the greater heavenly things in 3:12, Jesus goes on to declare: țĮ੿ Ƞ੝įİ੿Ȣ ਕȞĮȕ੼ȕȘțİȞ İੁȢ IJઁȞ Ƞ੝ȡĮȞઁȞ İੁ ȝ੽ ੒ ਥț IJȠ૨ Ƞ੝ȡĮȞȠ૨ țĮIJĮȕ੺Ȣ, ੒ ȣੂઁȢ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ. And no one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. (3:13)

The greater heavenly reality is that Jesus as Son of Man will ascend into heaven47 and incidentally implying also that no else has.48 We find the same contrast in 6:62,49 where Jesus confronts his critics who find his claim to have descended from above with the greater claim: ਥ੹Ȟ Ƞ੣Ȟ șİȦȡોIJİ IJઁȞ ȣੂઁȞ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ ਕȞĮȕĮ઀ȞȠȞIJĮ ੖ʌȠȣ ਷Ȟ IJઁ ʌȡંIJİȡȠȞ; So what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending where he was before? (6:62)

The contrast between Jesus’ ministry and greater things to come is present also in 14:12, where his going will enable him to send the Spirit, and so enable the disciples to do “greater works” than he, since their mission will reach many more. Other references to ascent include 20:17 and possibly at the level of

46 Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 198–202, argues unconvincingly that in 3:12 heavenly and earthly express not serious differentiation but despair at unresponsiveness. Frey, Eschatologie 3, writes: “‘Die grösseren Werke’ des Erhöhten gründen sachlich in Jesu Heilswerk und sind bereits in den Taten des irdischen Jesu zeichenhaft abgebildet, aber sie gehen nicht in der vorösterlichen Wirksamkeiten des irdischen auf” (p. 353). Cf. Reynolds, Apocalyptic Son of Man, who sees it referring to Jesus’ revelation (p. 106); similarly, Jean Zumstein, Das Johannesevangelium (KEK 2; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2016), 144. Thompson, John, sees “heavenly things” as referring to “the realities of Jesus’ heavenly origin and destiny” (p. 84). 47 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 249–52. Christian Dietzfelbinger, Das Evangelium nach Johannes, 2nd ed. (Zurich: TVZ, 2004), 1.85; Ben Witherington, John’s Wisdom: A Commentary on the Fourth Gospel (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1995), 100; Reynolds, Apocalyptic Son of Man, prefers a gnomic understanding of the perfect, translating: “No one ascends except the Son of Man, the one who has descended” (p. 115). 48 On the possibility that in 3:13a the author is employing a tradition reflected in Deut 30:12; Prov 30:4; Bar 3:29; and Wis 9:16–18 of denying claims to heavenly ascents, see Moloney, Son of Man, 54–55; John Lierman, “The Mosaic Pattern of John’s Christology,” in Challenging Perspectives on the Gospel of John, ed. J. Lierman, WUNT 2.219 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 210–34, 212–14; Reynolds, Apocalyptic Son of Man, 107–108; Martin Schmidl, Jesus und Nikodemus: Gespräch zur johanneischen Christologie. Joh 3 in schichtenspezifischer Sicht, BU 28 (Regensburg: Pustet, 1998), 250–66. Suggested targets include mystical ascents, ascents of Moses or of prophets, or apocalyptic visionaries, Merkabah mysticism, Philonic ascents, and gnostic revealers. On this see Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 249–50. 49 So Weidemann, Tod Jesu, 109; Reynolds, Apocalyptic Son of Man, 116, 160; Schnelle, Johannes, 385.

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irony Jesus’ exchange with his blood brothers about going up (ਕȞĮȕĮ઀ȞȦ) to the feast (7:6–8). The author contrasts who Jesus is and what he does on earth with something more to know about him which relates to the heavenly world. Despite many seeing it otherwise, the contrast in 1:50 already functions in this way. Nathanael has rightly confessed Jesus Son of God and King of Israel on the basis of what he experienced of Jesus, royal messianic language which belongs to the depiction of Jesus’ earthly ministry, including his death, as we have seen. Jesus then declares: ਕʌİțȡ઀șȘ ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȣ țĮ੿ İੇʌİȞ Į੝IJ૶· ੖IJȚ İੇʌંȞ ıȠȚ ੖IJȚ İੇįંȞ ıİ ਫ਼ʌȠț੺IJȦ IJોȢ ıȣțોȢ, ʌȚıIJİ઄İȚȢ; ȝİ઀ȗȦ IJȠ઄IJȦȞ ੕ȥૉ. țĮ੿ Ȝ੼ȖİȚ Į੝IJ૶· ਕȝ੽Ȟ ਕȝ੽Ȟ Ȝ੼ȖȦ ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ, ੕ȥİıșİ IJާȞ Ƞ‫ރ‬ȡĮȞާȞ ਕȞİ૳ȖંIJĮ țĮ‫ ޥ‬IJȠީȢ ܻȖȖ‫ޢ‬ȜȠȣȢ IJȠࠎ șİȠࠎ ܻȞĮȕĮަȞȠȞIJĮȢ țĮ‫ ޥ‬țĮIJĮȕĮަȞȠȞIJĮȢ ਥʌ੿ IJઁȞ ȣੂઁȞ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ. Jesus answered and said to him, “Because I said I saw you under the fig tree do you believe? You shall see greater things than these.” And he said to him, “Truly, truly I tell you, you shall see the heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.” (1:50–51)

Nathanael and other believers will see Jesus the Son of Man in heaven as the object of angelic veneration.50 I have argued that this, too, is best seen as a reference to the heavenly things which the author typically articulates using the nexus of motifs associated with the exaltation to glory of the Son of Man, not to the ministry to come,51 or its manifestation of glory.52 It matches the contrast in 3:12 and 6:62 which also refer to Jesus’ heavenly status as Son of Man. Seeing him in his heavenly glory makes sense of the need for heaven to be opened and of angels not just descending but ascending (hardly a reference to his to his being on earth). The author drops hints of its post Easter reality in the

50

So de Boer, Johannine Perspectives, 161; Söding, “Kreuzerhöhung,” 12; John Painter, “The Church and Israel in the Fourth Gospel: A Response,” NTS 25 (1978): 103–22, 109– 10. 51 Bultmann, Johannes, 75; Brown, John, 83–84, 97; Ernst Haenchen, Johannesevangelium. Ein Kommentar, ed. U. Busse (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1980), 182; Schnackenburg, John, 321–22, 413; Hahn, Theologie, 1.632; James D. G. Dunn, “Let John be John – A Gospel for Its Time,” in Das Evangelium und die Evangelien, ed. P. Stuhlmacher, WUNT 28 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1983), 309–39, 326; Schnelle, Christologie, 87–88; Michaels, John, 136–37; Johannes Beutler, Das Johannesevangelium (Freiburg: Herder, 2013), 117. 52 Ludger Schenke, “Christologie als Theologie. Versuch über das Johannesevangelium,” in Von Jesus zum Christus. Christologische Studien. Festgabe für Paul Hoffmann zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. R. Hoppe and U. Busse, BZNW 93 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1998), 445–65, 449; Gilbert van Belle, “The Death of Jesus and the Literary Unity of the Fourth Gospel,” in The Death of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, ed. G. van Belle, BETL 200 ( Leuven: Peeters, 2007), 3–64, 23–24; similarly Francis J. Moloney, Love in the Gospel of John: An Exegetical, Theological, and Literary Study (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2013), 41.

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next verse which begins “On the third day,” introducing the account of Cana which mentions “the hour” and foreshadows the eucharistic feast. 53 There have been attempts to explain away any reference to Jesus’ ascension from 3:13 and 6:62,54 such as seeing in 3:13 an allusion to ascent in preexistence55 or in visionary experience,56 or in baptism,57 to contrive a translation that avoids such a reference, but these are to my mind

53

See the discussion in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 254–57; and William R. G. Loader, “John 1:51 and Johannine Christology,” in The Opening of John’s Narrative (John 1:19–2:22): Historical, Literary, and Theological Readings from the Colloquium Ioanneum 2015 in Ephesus, ed. Alan Culpepper and Jörg Frey, WUNT 385 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017), 119–32, chapter 3 in this volume. 54 Moloney, Son of Man, sees 6:62 as merely a taunt (p. 123, similarly pp. 244–47); Moloney, “Son of Man Revisited,” 193–95; in agreement: James F. McGrath, John’s Apologetic Christology: Legitimation and Development in Johannine Christology, SNTSMS 11 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 178. 55 Bühner, Gesandte, 304–307, 380–81, 392–93; Peder Borgen, “The Son of Man Saying in John 3:13–14,” in Logos was the True Light (Trondheim: Tapir, 1983), 133–48, 139–41; Jarl E. Fossum, “The Son of Man’s Alter Ego: John 1.51, Targumic Tradition and Jewish Mysticism,” in The Image of the Invisible God. Essays on the Influence of Jewish Mysticism on Early Christology, NTOA 30 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1995), 149. For criticism see Dunn, “Let John be John,” 329–30; Moloney, Son of Man, 232–33, 240–41; Schnackenburg, Johannesevangelium 4, 105; Schnelle, Christologie, 207; Michael E. Theobald, Herrenworte im Johannesevangelium, HBS 34 (Freiburg: Herder, 2002), 205 n. 15; George R. Beasley-Murray, “The Mission of the Logos-Son,” in The Four Gospels 1992. Festschrift for Frans Neirynck, ed. F. van Segbroeck, C. M. Tuckett, G. van Belle, and J. Verheyden, BETL 100 (Leuven: Peeters, 1992), 1855–68, 1863. 56 John Ashton, The Gospel of John and Christian Origins (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2014), writes: “Crucial here is the observation that Jesus bases his claim of being able to transmit his knowledge of celestial realities (‘we speak of what we know and bear witness to what we have seen’) on personal experience, an experience that came not, as is often asserted, from some sort of heavenly pre-existence but from an ascent into heaven that is denied all others” (p. 171). This fails to recognise that the Johannine Jesus does not reveal heavenly secrets and revelations. See also Ashton, “Johannine Son of Man,” where he argues that the author deliberately contrasted Jesus’ mystical ascent with Moses’ (p. 522; similarly, p. 528), locating it in transfiguration tradition (p. 527); similarly McGrath, Christology, 162–65, 226. Cf. Burkett, Son of Man, proposes that “‘the Son of the Man’ in Jn 3.13 is the son of ‘the Man’ in Prov. 30.1–4” (p. 87). Of the “Son of (the) Man” he writes that “the source of the expression itself is a christological interpretation of Prov. 30.1–4, in which Jesus is identified as ‘Ithiel,’ like the son of ‘the Man’” (p. 50). “His reference to Prov. 30.4 permits the recognition that he is speaking of those occasions recorded in the Old Testament when God ascended back to heaven following a visit to earth” (p. 85); in agreement Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 202–208 This speculative reconstruction fails to take into account the strength of existing Jewish and Christian apocalyptic traditions in part elaborating Daniel 7. 57 Frederick H. Borsch, The Son of Man in Myth and History (London: SCM, 1967), 273, 275 n. 2.

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unconvincing.58 There is anachronism in having Jesus refer during his ministry to his ascension as if to the past,59 but anachronisms in John are not uncommon. Already 3:11 is anachronistic and indeed we may well be dealing with the author transitioning from speech of Jesus to his own description of Jesus, as suggested also for 3:31–36.60 It makes good sense that 3:13 reports the heavenly things just referred to in 3:12.61 It is what one would expect. That does then raise the question whether this might not also apply to 3:14–15. Then the primary focus of the lifting up of the Son of Man here cannot be limited to the crucifixion, which is all that unfaith sees, nor to a supposedly pre-resurrection ascent to the Father on the cross, but must include this as the beginning of a total event complex in which the Son of Man is exalted to the Father, 62 whether or not in addition notions of 58

Moloney, Son of Man, argues for a translation which reads 13b as: “but there is one who has descended, the Son of Man” (cf. İੁ ȝ੽ ੒ ਥț IJȠ૨ Ƞ੝ȡĮȞȠ૨ țĮIJĮȕ੺Ȣ, ੒ ȣੂઁȢ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ) and so rules out any allusion in 3:13 to the ascent of the Son of Man (pp. 54–55, similarly, p. 244). In “Son of Man Revisited,” he acknowledges that his translation did not convince but still maintains that no reference to Jesus’ ascension is present (pp. 190–93). It runs counter to the natural reading of İੁ ȝ੽ in 3:13 to mean “except” and is widely rejected. So C. K. Barrett, The Gospel According to St. John, 2nd ed. (London: SPCK, 1978), 213; Godfery Nicholson, Death as Departure: The Johannine Descent-Ascent Schema, SBLDS 63 (Chico: Scholars, 1982), 93–95; John Painter, “Christology and the Farewell Discourses,” ABR 31 (1983): 45–62, 59. 59 The manuscript tradition which added, “who is in heaven” (੒ ੫Ȟ ਥȞ Ƞ੝ȡĮȞ૶) understood the anachronism perfectly. So Thüsing, Erhöhung, 256. Painter, Quest, 329, who sees it as the lectio difficilior as more original (p. 329); similarly Ulrich Wilckens, Das Evangelium nach Johannes, NTD 4 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1998), 70. Jesus is represented here as speaking from a post-Easter perspective. So Barrett, John, 213; Brown, John, 132; Haenchen, Johannesevangelium, 224. 60 So Painter, Quest, who notes that they “are to be understood as the words of the narrator where an ascension perspective is not surprising” (p. 330). 61 So Theobald, Johannes, 257–58; Beutler, Johannesevangelium, 136; Francis J. Moloney, The Gospel of John (SP 4; Collegeville: Liturgical, 1998), 94–95; Schnelle, Johannes, 105. Cf. Ashton, Fourth Gospel, 117: who identifies “the heavenly things” as a reference to the Gospel itself; similarly, Ashton, John, 251, although he earlier identifies them as what Jesus had seen (p. 116); and in “Johannine Son of Man,” as alluding to the transfiguration (pp. 519–20, 528); John Ashton, “Reflections on a Footnote,” in Engaging with C. H. Dodd on the Gospel of John: Sixty Years of Tradition and Interpretation, ed. T. Thatcher and C. H. Williams (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), 203–15, 213– 14; McGrath, Christology, 162–65, 194. 62 So among others Barrett, John, 214, 427; Schnackenburg, John, 394–97; Schnackenburg, Johannesevangelium 2, 156, 492–93, 499–502; Schnackenburg, Johannesevangelium 4, 112; Jürgen Becker, Das Evangelium des Johannes, ÖTK 4.1/2 (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1979/1981), 402–404; Ulrich B. Müller, “Die Bedeutung des Kreuzestodes im Johannesevangelium,” KD 21 (1975): 49–71, 56–60; Brown, John, 40, 84, 168; Raymond E. Brown, An Introduction to the Gospel of John. Edited, Updated, Introduced and Concluded by Francis J. Moloney, S.D.B., ABRL (New York: Doubleday, 2003), 256; Beasley-Murray,

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vicarious or sacrificial atonement or disempowering Satan play a role here. They need not, but they may. To see the primary focus as exaltation through the cross to glory coheres well with what we have observed elsewhere, namely that the offer of eternal life to those who believe in Jesus will be made known to all the world when the disciples empowered by the gift of the Spirit go forth in mission to bear fruit and in effect seek to draw all to Christ, not least in the gentile mission. 63 The event referred to through the analogy of lifting up the snake is then much more than the crucifixion. It belongs to the “heavenly things” referred to in 3:12 and 13. In 3:14–15 the author is not, therefore, changing the subject from “heavenly things”, namely his ascension, but rather continuing to write about what these “heavenly things” mean, and that includes the event with which begins with the crucifixion.

3:13–15 and Johannine Soteriology One of the remarkable features of most of the texts we have considered in this regard is their common language which belongs to the nexus described above, which speaks of Jesus’ lifting up/exaltation, glorification and ascent as Son of Man. It is not the case that the author does not refer to the future without these terms. In particular, he uses the language of going away and returning to the Father without them, especially in the last discourses, but the overall implications to which the nexus gives expression are a core element of the author’s understanding of the significance of Jesus’ death, as his final prayer illustrates. We noted above that the author uses this nexus of motifs in relation to universal mission and the promise to all who believe that they may obtain eternal life. This should not, however, be read as implying that all statements about the gift of life in John are proleptic, as though the author when speaking of Jesus as offering the living water or the true bread or light and life means us to assume a parenthesis which says: this was not the case during his ministry but became the case after his death and return to the Father, which might also include an argument that one had to wait for his death because it made the offer John, lxxxiv–lxxxv, 50–51, 54, 76, 131–32; Beasley-Murray, “John 12,31–32,” 71–73; Burkett, Son of Man, 122; Rainer Schwindt, Gesichte der Herrlichkeit. Eine exegetischtraditionsgeschichtliche Studie zur paulinischen und johanneischen Christologie, HBS 50 (Freiburg: Herder, 2007), 316; Zumstein, Johannesevangelium, 145–46 63 Weidemann, Tod Jesu, 376; Schmidl, Jesus und Nikodemus, 273–76; Michaels, John, 197; Beutler, Johannesevangelium, 139. As John Painter, “Sacrifice and Atonement in the Gospel of John,” in Israel und seine Heilstraditionen im Johannesevangelium, ed. M. Labahn, K. Scholtissek, and A. Strotmann (Paderborn: Ferdinand Schöningh, 2004), 287– 313, notes, the notion of the Son of Man’s being lifted up to draw all people to himself (12:32) “may already be present in the first use of the metaphor in 3:14–15” (p. 305).

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possible through the act of atonement. There can be little doubt that the author along with believers from early on in the movement had, indeed, projected post-Easter realities back into the ministry of Jesus. That is our assessment of an historical process. This, however, should not be confused with the author’s own assessment. He does, indeed, show awareness of a development in understanding between the time of Jesus’ ministry and post-Easter reality and sometimes refers to it explicitly, such as his comments on how the entry was understood at the time and understood later. Indeed, by implication through his words about the promised paraclete, he justifies his gospel on the basis that the Spirit made recall and understanding possible, but that meant understanding of who Jesus actually was during his earthly ministry. When we find Jesus prefacing statement with the words, “The hour is coming and now is” (4:23; 5:23; 16:32), we hear what is the voice of the postEaster Jesus, but the author portrays these as the words of the earthly Jesus. In his person by the Spirit during his ministry he brings true worship now in oneness with his person and salvation, resurrection and judgement now. Even when we must acknowledge that the author must have been aware of his own creative hand in constructing and inventing discourse and dialogue, there can be little doubt that what he in essence claims about the historical Jesus is what he actually believed. That included that he was the Word incarnate, the giver of the water of life, the true bread, the light and the life already then, not because of an achievement not yet realised, through the cross as an act of atonement or a victory, but because of his person. This reflects his harnessing of the tradition of Wisdom/Logos which had come to be used of Torah and John uses of Jesus. The consistent christological soteriology which informs John’s portrait of the earthly Jesus at every point in the narrative, namely that he in his person is the bearer and giver of life from the moment he appeared, may seem to be in tension with the smaller number of statements that the offer of life is something to be given post-Easter. John 6 illustrates this well. He was the bread come down from heaven there and then, but he also spoke of a future when people would eat his flesh and drink his blood. Both perspectives cohere for the author. In 3:13–21 we find a similar tension. The final verses, 3:19–21, speak of judgement taking place already in the encounter with the earthly Jesus because he came as light into the world, not as a promise to become light sometime later. Moving back, we then read in 3:17–18 about the Son being sent into the world to save, with the implication that this would happen already in response to the earthly Jesus. The famous 3:16 might also be read in this sense, so that the giving would equate to the sending and the receiving of life happen already in the encounter with Jesus, but this is uncertain, not least because the statement about eternal life repeats what is in 3:15, where it must have a future reference. Indeed, one could read both 3:16 and 3:17 as remaining where the tradition behind them, which both reflect, had put the focus, namely on Jesus’ death.

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The alternative is to see the author moving from a focus on the future to a focus on the present between 3:15 and 3:16–17,64 rather than doing that only from 3:18 onward, not least because 3:18 is spelling out the meaning of 3:17. It is clear that the author believes both: as the Word incarnate, Jesus embodied the offer of life, light, bread, truth; and now as the exalted one through the sending of the Spirit and the disciples that offer continues, but is now offered more widely and is now offered in the light of the exposure/judgement of the ruler of this world on the cross. What about the motif of vicarious or sacrificial atonement? One might force a consistency by arguing that if the life was already offered before the cross, then the cross cannot have been seen as adding anything. That is surely both too tidy and in substance wrong. The author affirms both. We find a similar tension in Matthew who has Jesus authorised to offer forgiveness of sins, like John, during his ministry, and the eucharistic tradition of his blood poured out İੁȢ ਙijİıȚȞ ਖȝĮȡIJȚ૵Ȟ (26:28). 65 It is equally too tidy and substantially wrong, whether in Matthew or in John, to try to explain away the statements forgiveness and life could have been offered in Jesus’ ministry. At most we can say is that the dominant emphasis in John is to make soteriology christological. Salvation is the person first and foremost, not a transaction or event, but the event of the cross, much transformed by the author’s creativity which greatly enhances its significance, still retains in John traces of the vicarious atonement tradition. 66 The problem becomes less acute when we refrain from equating eternal life with forgiveness of sins, something John does not do, though the former must imply the latter. Then the tension we have is paralleled in Jewish tradition which could affirm life offered in Torah while affirming both regular means of finding forgiveness and irregular, such as through John’s baptism, the Maccabean martyrdom, or simply prayer, without the need to homogenise.

64

For 3:16 as referring to the sending of the Son, see also Zumstein, Johannesevangelium, 147; Theobald, Johannes, 270–71; Thompson, John, 86; Lincoln, John, 154; Beutler, Johannesevangelium, 140. 65 On this see my discussion in William R. G. Loader, “Tensions in Matthean and Johannine Soteriology Viewed in their Jewish Context,” in John and Judaism: A Contested Relationship in Context, ed. R. Alan Culpepper and Paul Anderson, SBLBRS 87 (Atlanta: SBL, 2017), 175–88, 185–88, chapter 8 in this volume, pp. 163–66. 66 See William R. G. Loader, “The Significance of the Prologue for Understanding John’s Soteriology,” in The Prologue of the Gospel of John: Its Literary, Theological, and Philosophical Contexts, ed. Jan G. van der Watt, R. Alan Culpepper, and Udo Schnelle, WUNT 359 (Tübingen; Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 45–55, 53–54, chapter 7 in this volume, pp.147–48; and Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 194–202.

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Conclusion In summary, 3:13–15 is best understood in context both within the passage and within the Gospel as a whole where it reflects a nexus of motifs associated with the “hour”, the greater event to come, inaugurated by and beginning with Jesus’ death, and including his exaltation, glorification, ascension and return to the Father, and resulting in his sending the Spirit, sending the disciples and so offering to all eternal life through belief in his name. It is the subject of the “heavenly things” of which Jesus speaks in 3:12, even greater than the “earthly things” of which he had spoken, and so includes ascension (3:13) and exaltation (3:14), which unfaith sees only as lifting up on a cross. It may be that this lifting up means even more than the lifting up, exaltation to God, inaugurated by this event, namely as also evoking notions of vicarious or sacrificial atonement, but while such an interpretation might seem close at hand when the text is considered in isolation, it is arguably not primary if present at all. This is not to deny that the author knows such traditions and to deny this in the interests of consistency is to impose unreal expectations. Rather the author, truly creative in his dramatic portrayal of Jesus’ significance, is beholden to tradition which he has developed and extrapolated and not expunged.

5. John 5:19–47: A Deviation from Envoy Christology It is an honour to continue a conversation about Johannine christology in which Gilbert van Belle has been a participant over the years. My own major foray into Johannine christology sought to discern the underlying structure beneath the many formulations found on the surface of the text of the gospel.1 Fortunately, these were not so varied as to make tracing a pattern impossible but rather were sufficiently constant to make an outline of themes possible and to see the syntax which linked them.

Envoy Christology “Son” and “Father” are dominant designations for God and Jesus. Envoy imagery furnishes the description of the action. Endlessly we read of the Father sending the Son, of the Son as the sent one, as authorised, and so the Son coming, sometimes descending, though that language (with ascending) is more associated with the title Son of Man. The Son’s action is variously described as making known what he has heard and seen and doing the works he has been sent to do. Through his words and works the Son is portrayed as therefore offering life, bearing light, bringing truth. Accordingly, he completed what the Father sent him to do and say and returned to the Father. The author engages another set of terms to elaborate on the return, exaltation (with its double meaning of lifting up on a cross, which is all that unbelievers can see, and exaltation to God), glorification, as he returned to the glory he had from the beginning with the Father, and ascent to the one from whom he descended, all usually associated with the title Son of Man. The Son’s return began a new phase as he, in turn, sent the disciples as he was sent, but now to bear witness to him as God’s envoy, and sent the Spirit to equip them, to give them appropriate recall and understanding, to help them in their mission and the building of faith communities.

1

William R. G. Loader, The Christology of the Fourth Gospel: Structure and Issues, 2nd ed., BBET 23 (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1992), revised and extensively expanded in William R. G. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel: Structure and Issues (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017); see also William R. G. Loader, “What is ‘finished’? Revisiting Tensions in the Structure of Johannine Christology,” in The Death of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, ed. G. van Belle, BETL 200 (Leuven: Peeters, 2007), 457–68, chapter 6 in this volume.

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I summarised it succinctly in the statement: The Father sends and authorises the Son, who knows the Father, comes from the Father, makes the Father known, brings light and life and truth, completes his Father's work, returns to the Father, exalted, glorified, ascended, sends the disciples and sends the Spirit to enable greater understanding, to equip for mission, and to build up the community of faith.

The envoy model has been widely recognized as providing an important structural element of John’s christology,2 although the tendency to speak of it as an agency motif can obscure the issues raised by the central motif of the sending.3 The envoy model reflects the use of such imagery already in earlier tradition. 4 Its import has often been lost in the contemporary world of telecommunication. For telecommunication in the ancient world envoys, authorised representatives, played a major role. They had to be able to act on behalf of their sender, authenticate their genuineness in that role (“ I am ...”), and both convey messages, sometimes in the form of written documents among 2

Paul N. Anderson, The Christology of the Fourth Gospel, WUNT 2.78 (Tübingen, Mohr Siebeck, 1996), 331–33; George R. Beasley-Murray, John, 2nd ed., WBC 36 (Nashville, Thomas Nelson, 1999), cix–cxii; James F. McGrath, John’s Apologetic Christology. Legitimation and Development in Johannine Christology, SNTSMS 111 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 60–64; Raymond E. Brown, An Introduction to the Gospel of John. Edited, Updated, Introduced and Concluded by Francis J. Moloney, S.D.B., AncBRL (New York: Doubleday, 2003), 252; Craig S. Keener, The Gospel of John: A Commentary, 2 vols. (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2005), 310–17; Andrew T. Lincoln, The Gospel According to Saint John, BNTC 4 (London: Continuum, 2005), 60–61; O. Schwankl, “Aspekte der johanneischen Christologie,” in Theology and Christology in the Fourth Gospel. Essays by the Members of the SNTS Johannine Writings Seminar, ed. G. van Belle, J. G. van der Watt, and P. Maritz, BETL 184 (Leuven: Peeters, 2005), 347–75, 356. 3 Thus, the discussion of McGrath, Christology, for instance, fails to note the issue raised by what we describe below as the deviation from the envoy model (p. 90). Jan G. van der Watt, An Introduction to the Johannine Gospel and Letters (London: T&T Clark, 2007), appropriately sets out in diagrammatic form the important dimensions of time and space in John which underlie its christological pattern (p. 34). 4 Matt 10:40; Luke 9:48; 10:16; Mark 9:37; Matt 11:19; Luke 7:35; Matt 15:24; Matt 21:34–37; Mark 12:4–6; Luke 20:10–12; Luke 11:49; cf. Matt 23:34, 37; Luke 13:34; Matt 11:27; Luke 10:22. And see William R. G. Loader, “The Central Structure of Johannine Christology,” NTS 30 (1984): 188–216, 204–208, chapter 1 in this volume, pp. 41–47. See also McGrath, Christology, 60–62.

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which might be the letters of the envoy’s authorisation, and undertake actions in the interests of the one they served.5 We see the model’s usefulness in describing prophets, apostles (literally “sent ones”) and in rabbinic tradition the shaliach (also the “sent one”). Paul’s correspondence allows us to see conflicts which arose as missionaries claimed status and provided letters of authorisation (e.g., 2 Cor 3:1–3) and the Johannine letters reflect similar issues of people claiming such authority (2 John 10; 3 John 10; also Didache 11–13). Mission is about sending and angels were seen as sent ones or bearers of announcement (ਙȖȖİȜȠȚ; ʭʩʫʠʬʮ).6 In Johannine christology the envoy model is only partially intact. The many references to the Son having come from the Father to tell what he has seen and heard might lead one to expect an envoy revealer model according to which the Son comes bearing information. It has long been realised, most dramatically expressed by Bultmann, that this understanding of the model in John breaks down. “John, that is, his Gospel presents only the fact (das Dass) of the Revelation without describing its content (ihr Was).”7 For the envoy brings minimal information, certainly no heavenly revelations, but instead reveals primarily that he is the revealer. There is, of course, some basic information, such as the claim that it is the Father who sent him, did so out of love and authorised him and through him offers life but the Son as envoy is primarily the bearer not of information but of an invitation to relationship with God through himself. The envoy model is sustained to the extent that the Son acts representatively for God and so to respond to him is to respond to God but that is not about information. It is about relationship. So to see Jesus is to see the Father, to honour him is to honour the Father, and so on through a range of equivalences. The envoy model is also sustained to the extent that the Son comes to do the works he has been given to do, which include miracles but more than that and even in them the focus is not on the miracles but on the bread or light or life they symbolise.8 Without question the envoy model, understood in this way, is the underlying structure of John’s christology. Its closest analogy is the way Jewish tradition had spoken about God’s Wisdom, understood as sent by God and sometimes identified as Torah.9 John’s prologue is a christological adaptation of that 5 On envoys in the ancient world see Keener, John, 310–15; and the comprehensive discussion in Jan Bühner, Der Gesandte und sein Weg im 4. Evangelium, WUNT 2.2 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1977), 118–80. 6 Bühner, Gesandter, 270–399. 7 Rudolf Bultmann, Theology of the New Testament, 2 vols. (London: SCM, 1952, 1955), 2.66. See also Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 2–12. 8 See the discussion in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 282–302. 9 Prov 8:22–30; Sir 24:3–10, 19–23; 51:23–27; Bar 3:29–4:2; Wis 7:22–29; 1 En. 42:1– 2; and extensively in Philo. See also McGrath, Christology, 92–93, who notes that Philo in Conf. 63 also employs father-son imagery to describe the Logos in relation to God (p. 93).

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tradition, as it portrays Jesus as the Logos, whose identity is not merged with but juxtaposed to the Law given through Moses, which it effectively replaces (1:16–17).10 The imagery associated with Wisdom/Torah, light, life, bread, water, is transferred in John to Jesus. The employment of the envoy model for Wisdom/Torah works in part because there is communication of content. Its transferral to Jesus in John, unlike, for instance in Q and Matthew,11 entails modification of the information-giving function into self-presentation. While therefore the envoy model forms the pattern or framework for Johannine christology, it is very much an adapted or modified model. It is therefore particularly interesting to find some instances where that model is transcended or where claims are made which do not fit the model. The most striking is in the passage we find in 5:19–47.

John 5:19–47 and Envoy Christology The envoy model assumes that the Son has received his knowledge and his instructions from the Father before coming to earth to carry them out and to make the Father known. The model assumes movement from the Father and back to the Father, so that the Son’s earthly ministry is in some sense in another time and place, to which he has been sent and from which he looks forward to returning, indeed, eventually also to be joined by those the Father has given him. It suggests the absence of the Son from the Father but this is mediated at least by the gift of the Spirit at Jesus’ baptism, which, as for believers, later equips him for his task.12 In 5:19–47 there are clear traces of envoy christology. The Father is regularly described throughout as the one who sent the Son (5:23, 24, 30, 36, 37, 38). Thus, typical of the envoy model, we find the statement: IJ੹ Ȗ੹ȡ ਩ȡȖĮ ਘ į੼įȦț੼Ȟ ȝȠȚ ੒ ʌĮIJ੽ȡ ੆ȞĮ IJİȜİȚઆıȦ Į੝IJ੺, Į੝IJ੹ IJ੹ ਩ȡȖĮ ਘ ʌȠȚ૵ ȝĮȡIJȣȡİ૙ ʌİȡ੿ ਥȝȠ૨ ੖IJȚ ੒ ʌĮIJ੾ȡ ȝİ ਕʌ੼ıIJĮȜțİȞ (“The works that the Father has given me to complete, the very works that I am doing, testify on my behalf that the Father has sent me”) (5:36). Similarly, envoy christology normally explains the sense of the claim: ੒ ȝ੽ IJȚȝ૵Ȟ IJઁȞ ȣੂઁȞ Ƞ੝ IJȚȝઽ IJઁȞ ʌĮIJ੼ȡĮ IJઁȞ ʌ੼ȝȥĮȞIJĮ Į੝IJંȞ (“Anyone who does not honour the Son does not honour the Father who sent 10

On this see William R. G. Loader, “The Law and Ethics in John,” in Rethinking the Ethics of John. “Implicit Ethics” in the Johannine Writings, ed. Jan G. van der Watt and Ruben Zimmermann, CNNTE 3, WUNT 291 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 143–58, chapter 14 in this volume. 11 Matt 11:19; Luke 7:35; Luke 11:49; cf. Matt 23:34; Matt 11:28–30; cf. Sir 51:23–27. 12 1:32–33; 3:33–34; 14:12–24. Cf. also Cornelius Bennema, The Power of Saving Wisdom: An Investigation of Spirit and Wisdom in Relation to the Soteriology of the Fourth Gospel, WUNT 2.148 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 101–208; McGrath, Christology, 140.

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him”) (5:23). It follows a statement about the Son’s authorisation to give life, which within the model refers to his pre-existent authorisation: IJ੽Ȟ țȡ઀ıȚȞ ʌ઼ıĮȞ į੼įȦțİȞ IJ૶ ȣੂ૶ (“has given all judgement to the Son”) (5:22). The passage in some ways, however, breaches the envoy model. It is the first lengthy discourse in John. Its primary focus, at least to begin with, is Jesus’ status in relation to God, in which Jesus defends his claims over against charges, effectively of blasphemy. This speech is matched by a corresponding one, also dealing with defence against such accusation in 10:31–39, to which we shall return below. Here in John 5 the evangelist has recounted the healing of the lame man at the pool of Bethzatha. Not the healing, itself, but the fact that it was done on the Sabbath (5:9b), probably a supplement to the story added by the author, creates the controversy. Against the charge of breaching Sabbath law (5:16) Jesus declares, ੒ ʌĮIJ੾ȡ ȝȠȣ ਪȦȢ ਙȡIJȚ ਥȡȖ੺ȗİIJĮȚ țਕȖઅ ਥȡȖ੺ȗȠȝĮȚ (“My Father is still working, and I also am working”) (5:17). The author uses that as the springboard for the discourse, heightened in its significance by the report: įȚ੹ IJȠ૨IJȠ Ƞ੣Ȟ ȝ઼ȜȜȠȞ ਥȗ੾IJȠȣȞ Į੝IJઁȞ Ƞੂ ੉ȠȣįĮ૙ȠȚ ਕʌȠțIJİ૙ȞĮȚ, ੖IJȚ Ƞ੝ ȝંȞȠȞ ਩ȜȣİȞ IJઁ ı੺ȕȕĮIJȠȞ, ਕȜȜ੹ țĮ੿ ʌĮIJ੼ȡĮ ੅įȚȠȞ ਩ȜİȖİȞ IJઁȞ șİઁȞ ੅ıȠȞ ਦĮȣIJઁȞ ʌȠȚ૵Ȟ IJ૶ șİ૶ (“For this reason the Jews were seeking all the more to kill him, because he was not only breaking the sabbath, but was also calling God his own Father, thereby making himself equal to God”) (5:18). Jesus’ words in 5:17 appear to reflect awareness of discussions about God’s activity on the Sabbath, attested as early as Aristobulus and also later in Philo and rabbinic discussions. 13 The enigmatic țਕȖઅ ਥȡȖ੺ȗȠȝĮȚ (“and I also am working”) associates Jesus’ action with God’s at two levels. One might just take it as a defence that Jesus is only doing what God, too, does on the Sabbath, understood as sustaining and restoring life as the creator. But the claim goes far beyond this in associating Jesus with God as though they are to that extent on the same level, belong to the divine family as 8:34, so that what is right for God is right for Jesus. Hence the objection of “the Jews”. As McGrath notes, there is no offence in claiming God as one’s father, which was common piety and reflected the honour and submission expected towards fathers in the world of the time.14 He even suggests that the participle ʌȠȚ૵Ȟ be understood as concessive, so that the objection would read: “He claimed that God was his father, although [he was] making himself equal with God.” 15 As he rightly notes, the issue here as in 10:30 is on Jesus’ identifying his action with God’s.16 For hearers of the Johannine narrative, however, it would be obvious that this claim to sonship belonged to much higher claims, 13 On this see Keener, John, 646; Hartwig Thyen, Das Johannesevangelium, HNT 6 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 307. 14 McGrath, Christology, 85–86. 15 McGrath, Christology, 89. 16 McGrath, Christology, 119.

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so that rather than hearing it concessively they would have heard it in the context of christological debate and their affirmation of his unique sonship. One might see Jesus’ claim as implying also that both are above Sabbath law or also that God’s obviously permissible action on the Sabbath justifies Jesus’ action, both acting consistently, therefore, with what God sees as appropriate observance of Sabbath. 17 The focus shifts in 5:18 from Sabbath law to what is seen by “the Jews” as a claim to be equal to God. Their intent to kill Jesus derives from their judgement that such a claim was blasphemous, as they would see his claim to be one with the Father in 10:30, in response to which they prepared to stone him. We are surely moving within disputes which belong in the author’s times when Christian claims about Jesus were considered blasphemous. It is not unreasonable on the basis of 5:17 for “the Jews” to conclude that Jesus was claiming equality with God. The speech which follows, however, is designed to show that it is a false charge when the nature of that equality is rightly understood. This accounts for the immediate dismissal of an equality that would imply independence as a charge of ditheism would presuppose. For immediately the author has Jesus declare his subordination: Ƞ੝ į઄ȞĮIJĮȚ ੒ ȣੂઁȢ ʌȠȚİ૙Ȟ ਕijૅ ਦĮȣIJȠ૨ Ƞ੝į੻Ȟ ਥ੹Ȟ ȝ੾ IJȚ ȕȜ੼ʌૉ IJઁȞ ʌĮIJ੼ȡĮ ʌȠȚȠ૨ȞIJĮ (“The Son can do nothing on his own, but only what he sees the Father doing”) (5:19). 18 This is not reversible. The author could never have him say: “The Father cannot do anything except what he sees the Son doing.” All that follows underlines this subordination: the Father shows the Son everything, authorises him to be lifebearer and judge. The Son is equal only in the sense that he does as authorised and shown and so a response to him is the equivalent of a response to God. In this sense the authorised envoy is equal to the one who sent him but that equality is grounded in the unequal authority and power: the Father sent the Son. John would never say that the Son sent the Father. One might argue such relative equality for any person sent by God, such as a prophet or John the Baptist, who was also sent from God. At one level this appears then simply to state the obvious about what pertained to relations of sons to fathers, but the author’s hearers recognize that the situation here is very different. Jesus is not like John but is the Word who was with God in preexistence and was God in that sense. In other words, Jesus is of a higher order of being. Having become flesh, he still remained God’s Son and bore the glory

17

On this see Loader, “Law and Ethics.” So Richard Bauckham, “Monotheism and Christology in the Gospel of John,” in Contours of Christology in the New Testament, ed. R. Longenecker, MMNTS 7 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), 148–66, who while noting the subordination rightly points out that the Son of doing what are divine prerogatives (p. 152). See also Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 309; Ulrich Busse, Das Johannesevangelium: Bildlichkeit, Diskurs und Ritual, BETL 162 (Leuven: Peeters, 2002), 132. 18

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which belonged to that status of being. The language of Son and Father in John implies that claim in a way that it could never be applicable to another human being. Thus while within that framework the author has Jesus show his dependence on the Father and never the reverse, the claim to be working as the Father has been working is therefore something more than a claim to equivalence through obedience to instruction. It is still also a claim to a level of being which clearly brings the claims into the sphere where accusations of blasphemy might arise. For John presents Jesus as claiming not to be (just) like any other obedient agent of God, but to be above that, to belong to the family of God. This distinction comes through most clearly in 8:35 (੒ į੻ įȠ૨ȜȠȢ Ƞ੝ ȝ੼ȞİȚ ਥȞ IJૌ Ƞੁț઀઺ İੁȢ IJઁȞ Įੁ૵ȞĮ, ੒ ȣੂઁȢ ȝ੼ȞİȚ İੁȢ IJઁȞ Įੁ૵ȞĮ. “The slave does not have a permanent place in the household; the son has a place there for ever”). He is the Son sent by the Father to make the Father known, as he tells us endlessly. The opening statement of Jesus’ defence in 5:19 goes beyond envoy imagery, which might have produced the formulation: “The Son can do nothing of his own accord except what the Father commanded and sent him to do.” We find such statements frequently elsewhere. Instead we read: Ƞ੝ į઄ȞĮIJĮȚ ੒ ȣੂઁȢ ʌȠȚİ૙Ȟ ਕijૅ ਦĮȣIJȠ૨ Ƞ੝į੻Ȟ ਥ੹Ȟ ȝ੾ IJȚ ȕȜ੼ʌૉ IJઁȞ ʌĮIJ੼ȡĮ ʌȠȚȠ૨ȞIJĮ (“The Son can do nothing on his own, but only what he sees the Father doing”) (5:19). Whereas in the envoy model the Son speaks of what he has seen and heard, here and here only in John he speaks of seeing in the present during his earthly ministry. The initial response of 5:17 about the Father and Son working finds an echo in the statement which follows: ਘ Ȗ੹ȡ ਗȞ ਥțİ૙ȞȠȢ ʌȠȚૌ, IJĮ૨IJĮ țĮ੿ ੒ ȣੂઁȢ ੒ȝȠ઀ȦȢ ʌȠȚİ૙ (“for whatever the Father does, the Son does likewise”) (5:19b). So the image is of the Son watching what the Father is doing and doing it as well. 5:20 continues in the same vein: ੒ Ȗ੹ȡ ʌĮIJ੽ȡ ijȚȜİ૙ IJઁȞ ȣੂઁȞ țĮ੿ ʌ੺ȞIJĮ įİ઀țȞȣıȚȞ Į੝IJ૶ ਘ Į੝IJઁȢ ʌȠȚİ૙ (“The Father loves the Son and shows him all that he himself is doing”) (5:20a). The Father deliberately shows the Son what he is doing so that he can emulate it and will show him even greater things (5:20b). It has long been recognised that we may well have here an allusion to the normal family experience of sons learning from fathers. One could translate the opening two verses generically, much as some have translated 1:14 as “and we beheld his glory as of a father’s only son” (țĮ੿ ਥșİĮı੺ȝİșĮ IJ੽Ȟ įંȟĮȞ Į੝IJȠ૨, įંȟĮȞ ੪Ȣ ȝȠȞȠȖİȞȠ૨Ȣ ʌĮȡ੹ ʌĮIJȡંȢ). Then 5:19–20 could read: (In a normal family) “the [a] son cannot do anything on his own accord except what he sees the [his] father doing. What he does, the son also does similarly. The father loves the son and shows him everything he is doing.” That is the way families work and so, the argument would imply, that is the way it works also for Jesus as the Son of God the Father. This would allow one to explain why this appears a deviation from the usual reference to seeing and hearing in pre-

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existence.19 While the generic use of the article could allow this, it is more likely that the statements are directly christological with a secondary allusion to what is normal in families.20 The christological has dictated that 5:19 begins, “The Son cannot do anything of his own accord,” which does not easily fit in the generic sense, for sons certainly can do things of their own accord if they choose to. That is to say, the author employs the household model to articulate Jesus’ christological claims. In doing so, he deviates from the envoy model by deriving the Son’s behaviour not just from what he has been instructed to do, but from ongoing instruction and information. 21 Does the author thereby show us that his christology includes an assumption of an ongoing interactive relation between Father and Son which is instructive of the Son during his ministry or does 5:19–20 amount to saying: just as in a family a son learns from his father, so I am subordinate to the Father and do his will as he instructed me (on the envoy model: in pre-existence)? 5:20b, which reports that the Father will show the Son greater deeds evoking our wonder, clearly re-enters the christological – if it was ever left. For while it fits the family model to speak of a father showing a son greater deeds in the future, the reference here is to christological content, as the following verses show. In 5:21–29 we find that these greater works relate to the judgement. We shall return to these shortly, but first it is significant that the author then returns to the affirmation of 5:19 in 5:30, where he has Jesus state, now in the first person: ȅ੝ į઄ȞĮȝĮȚ ਥȖઅ ʌȠȚİ૙Ȟ ਕʌૅ ਥȝĮȣIJȠ૨ Ƞ੝į੼Ȟ (“I can do nothing on my own.” Cf. 5:19 Ƞ੝ į઄ȞĮIJĮȚ ੒ ȣੂઁȢ ʌȠȚİ૙Ȟ ਕijૅ ਦĮȣIJȠ૨ Ƞ੝į੼Ȟ. “The Son can do nothing on his own”). This is clearly a christological statement, not a generic one, making it likely that 5:19 should also be understood similarly. But again, we have language of communication in the present tense, which deviates from the envoy model. Thus Jesus continues: țĮșઅȢ ਕțȠ઄Ȧ țȡ઀ȞȦ (“As I hear, I judge”) (5:30b). There is ongoing communication. The author then continues in a way that combines this with the envoy model, though still going beyond it when he writes: țĮ੿ ਲ țȡ઀ıȚȢ ਲ ਥȝ੽ įȚțĮ઀Į ਥıIJ઀Ȟ, ੖IJȚ Ƞ੝ ȗȘIJ૵ IJઁ ș੼ȜȘȝĮ IJઁ ਥȝઁȞ ਕȜȜ੹ IJઁ ș੼ȜȘȝĮ IJȠ૨ ʌ੼ȝȥĮȞIJંȢ ȝİ (“and my judgement is just, because I seek to do 19

J. Ramsey Michaels, The Gospel of John, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), comes close to saying this when he argues that the language of the present tense derives from parable and that “the accent is not on the ‘seeing’ or ‘showing’ per se, but on the theme of imitation, and on the consequent identity of the Son’s works with those of the Father” (p. 309). 20 On this, see Jan G. van der Watt, “Der Meisterschüler Gottes (Von der Lehre des Sohnes) – Joh 5,19–23,” in Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu, ed. R. Zimmermann (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2007), 745–54, who writes: “beide Ebenen, die bildhafte und die wörtliche, in Joh 5,19–20 mittels Analogie metaphorische ineinander verschränkt sind” (p. 745). 21 So van der Watt, “Meisterschüler Gottes,” who notes the social context of education in Jewish families (pp. 748–50).

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not my own will but the will of him who sent me”) (5:30c). The implication here is that the Son not only does what he was instructed to do at his sending, but continues to hear instruction about what God wants. The statements about judgement in 5:21–29 must be understood in the light of 5:20, which reports that the Father will show the Son greater works. 5:30 is also relevant: the Son judges as he hears. Within 5:21–29 we find different levels of meaning and stages of judgement. It looks very much like an elaboration of older tradition which spoke of future judgement by works. Perhaps the original tradition also contained the title Son of Man and reference to the voice. Now the imagery is spread over the two main statements, namely, about future judgement (5:28–29) and about present judgement (5:25). Alternatively the author plays with known imagery in making each statement. The discourse speaks of judgement in two ways, using the formulations, ਩ȡȤİIJĮȚ ੮ȡĮ țĮ੿ Ȟ૨Ȟ ਥıIJȚȞ (“The hour is coming and now is”) and ਩ȡȤİIJĮȚ ੮ȡĮ (“The hour is coming”). He had already employed them in relation to the temple and future worship in the previous chapter (4:21, 23). Here future judgement is asserted in 5:28–29 in association with future resurrection and in typically Jewish terms, emphasizing performance and without specific christological content, though John’s hearers would surely include faith in Christ among what is good. John typically asserts that Jesus effectively brings judgement already by confronting people with the choice to receive or reject the life he offers in the present. Accordingly, he can speak of people already having been raised from death to life. The theme had already come to expression in John 3. The author shares the view that raising the dead is a divine power and asserts that the Son also exercises such power, an equivalence echoing the statement about working in 5:17. He is careful then to avert a misreading such as found in 5:18 and so adds that the Son does so because the Father has authorised him to do so (5:22). That sits well within the envoy model and would refer to authorisation at his sending. That authorisation is then the basis for the equation between honouring the Son and honouring the Father, explicitly described as the one “who sent him.” The declaration in 5:24 specifies the basis for receiving life now – hearing and believing the words of the sent one, which brings one from death to life. The two declarations about the hour follow, both introduced by the formal introduction ਕȝ੽Ȟ ਕȝ੽Ȟ Ȝ੼ȖȦ ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ (“Very truly, I tell you,” used already in 5:19), one related to what now is, repeating in apocalyptic language the claims just made, thus affirming resurrection now and preserving the association of the judging role with the title of Jesus as Son of Man (5:25– 27; reflected also in 9:35–39); the other referring to the traditional expectation of a future judgement, still relevant for John (5:28–29). While the statements about the Son’s exercise of judgement during his ministry and at the future judgement sit well within the envoy model and reflect it, since this is part of what he was authorised and sent to do, the introduction

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in 5:20c is slightly puzzling: țĮ੿ ȝİ઀ȗȠȞĮ IJȠ઄IJȦȞ įİ઀ȟİȚ Į੝IJ૶ ਩ȡȖĮ, ੆ȞĮ ਫ਼ȝİ૙Ȣ șĮȣȝ੺ȗȘIJİ (“and he will show him greater works than these, so that you will be astonished”). One might have expected that the greater works would be shown to Jesus’ listeners, not to himself, because they are the ones who will marvel. When does the author envisage that such works will be shown to the Son? Clearly, he is already exercising present judgement, so that cannot be what is meant by the future. One might think of greater miracles, in particular of the raising of Lazarus,22 It is somewhat typical of John’s writing to mix literal and spiritual in this way. But how is that shown to Jesus? Alternatively, it refers to future judgement at the end of time in 5:28–29 or perhaps to the Son’s resurrection. 23 In the remainder of the passage the christology of the envoy model prevails. 5:31–35 has Jesus speak of testimony, loosely related to the theme of judgement, but not connected with the statements about Jesus’ present or future role. The focus is legitimation, which entails an explanation of John the Baptist’s role in testifying for Jesus, as John has already reported. The author affirms his status, then continues by having Jesus claim a stronger legitimation that John gave him. Here we see the envoy model employed. IJ੹ Ȗ੹ȡ ਩ȡȖĮ ਘ į੼įȦț੼Ȟ ȝȠȚ ੒ ʌĮIJ੽ȡ ੆ȞĮ IJİȜİȚઆıȦ Į੝IJ੺, Į੝IJ੹ IJ੹ ਩ȡȖĮ ਘ ʌȠȚ૵ ȝĮȡIJȣȡİ૙ ʌİȡ੿ ਥȝȠ૨ ੖IJȚ ੒ ʌĮIJ੾ȡ ȝİ ਕʌ੼ıIJĮȜțİȞ (“The works that the Father has given me to complete, the very works that I am doing, testify on my behalf that the Father has sent me”) (5:36). Jesus’ deeds done as he was commissioned and sent to do them are divine evidence, a common theme in John, not the human evidence or testimony which the Son does not need, despite John’s contribution (5:34). Additional divine evidence comes from the past (țĮ੿ ੒ ʌ੼ȝȥĮȢ ȝİ ʌĮIJ੽ȡ ਥțİ૙ȞȠȢ ȝİȝĮȡIJ઄ȡȘțİȞ ʌİȡ੿ ਥȝȠ૨. “And the Father who sent me has himself testified on my behalf”) (5:37). The author has Jesus then confront his critics: Ƞ੡IJİ ijȦȞ੽Ȟ Į੝IJȠ૨ ʌઆʌȠIJİ ਕțȘțંĮIJİ Ƞ੡IJİ İੇįȠȢ Į੝IJȠ૨ ਦȦȡ੺țĮIJİ, țĮ੿ IJઁȞ ȜંȖȠȞ Į੝IJȠ૨ Ƞ੝ț ਩ȤİIJİ ਥȞ ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ ȝ੼ȞȠȞIJĮ (“You have never heard his voice or seen his form, 38and you do not have his word abiding in you”) (5:37–38), a critique which appears elsewhere and which stands by implication in contrast to the Son who has heard and seen, as 1:18 has already told us. The Son not only has God’s word abiding in him but is God’s word. The confrontation then identifies the divine testimony in the scriptures which John’s Jesus claims bear witness to him as the source of eternal life and are not themselves the source of life (5:39–40). The confrontation goes further with an allegation that his opponents look for glory from human beings (5:41), recalling 5:34, where Jesus declares he needs no human testimoiny. The envoy model reappears as Jesus speaks of himself as having come in the name of his Father (5:43) in contrast to others to whom 22 23

So Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 311, 313. Keener, John, 648.

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they have responded, and sets that in contrast to accepting him as the one bearing glory from the one who alone is God, implying idolatry on their part. The passage concludes with a further reinforcement of the claim to scripture’s witness as Jesus asserts that failure to believe him amounts to failure to believe Moses who testifies on his behalf, so that Moses himself will condemn them at the judgement (5:45–47). This all remains within the framework of envoy christology according to which they have refused to acknowledge the Son sent by the Father, whose works and for whom scripture are his credentials.

Deviation from the Envoy Model Elsewhere The passage, 5:19–47, began with a deviation from the envoy model. In the rest of the paper I want to pursue further possible evidence that the author embraced what that deviation affirmed. At a very general level we are asking how the author understood the Son’s relation to the Father during his ministry. Did his dominant schema of depicting the Son as equipped with instruction, knowledge, and authorisation at his commissioning leave room for an ongoing relation with the Father during his ministry and if so, how did the author understand that? Did the author not understand the Son to be in a continuing relationship with the Father? Would that not have meant ongoing instruction and knowledge, even rendering pre-existent instruction and knowledge if not irrelevant at least not as important as the envoy model assumes? In other words does such deviation indicate that the envoy model, which we have already noted is not used in its usual way as information giving, has much less significance than is generally supposed? How does the application of the envoy model to Jesus match its application to believers? Bultmann argued that the motion implied in the envoy model is also to be seen as a mythological way of depicting an ongoing permanent relationship. Before pursuing those questions we turn to the other significant discourse where the potentially blasphemous is addressed, 10:30–39. In a manner similar to 5:17, John has Jesus equate the Son’s and the Father’s activities.24 Having said that no one can snatch his own from his hands, he claims that no one can snatch them from the Father’s hands (10:28–29), asserting: ਥȖઅ țĮ੿ ੒ ʌĮIJ੽ȡ ਪȞ ਥıȝİȞ (“I and the Father are one”) (10:30). That provokes the response that his opponents want to stone him, again on the basis of an inadequate understanding of the statement in John’s view, since it is not, as they assume, a claim to be God, as the author portrays their reading in 10:33. The functional identity –

24

On this see also McGrath, Christology, 117–18. “As in John 5, the issue is the claim that Jesus does what God does, and, more specifically, whether it is justified and legitimate to make such a claim about Jesus” (p. 119).

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doing the same thing – is evident in the preceding two verses.25 John’s Jesus responds by pointing to the many good works which he had performed as authorised by his Father, reflecting the envoy authorisation model (10:32). His response to their explicit accusation is to argue from Psalm 82:6, that if it was good enough for those to whom the word of God came there to be called “gods”, it was surely acceptable for the one whom the Father sanctified and sent into the world to be called God’s Son (10:36). 26 Again, we have the envoy christology. Again, there is an appeal to doing God’s works, understood as works the Son had been instructed to do. Then the author has Jesus make a further argument, that even if they refuse to believe him, they should at least believe the works, presumably meaning that they are God’s works (10:37–38a), somewhat like the apparent distinction Mark has Jesus make between slander against himself, which is forgiveable, and slander against the Spirit (evident in the deeds), which is not (3:28–30). The author then steps beyond the envoy model in asserting that the issue is that they should believe ੆ȞĮ ȖȞ૵IJİ țĮ੿ ȖȚȞઆıțȘIJİ ੖IJȚ ਥȞ ਥȝȠ੿ ੒ ʌĮIJ੽ȡ țਕȖઅ ਥȞ IJ૶ ʌĮIJȡ઀ (“so that you may know and understand that the Father is in me and I am in the Father”) (10:38b).27 The language of mutual indwelling recurs in 14:7–11, as does the alternative to believing in Jesus as believing in his works. Jesus’ statement that, had the disciples known Jesus, they would have known the Father and that from then on they know and have seen the Father (14:7) evokes Philip’s response that he wants to see the Father, to which Jesus responds: IJȠıȠ઄IJ૳ ȤȡંȞ૳ ȝİșૅ ਫ਼ȝ૵Ȟ İੁȝȚ țĮ੿ Ƞ੝ț ਩ȖȞȦț੺Ȣ ȝİ, ĭ઀ȜȚʌʌİ; ੒ ਦȦȡĮțઅȢ ਥȝ੻ ਦઆȡĮțİȞ IJઁȞ ʌĮIJ੼ȡĮǜ ʌ૵Ȣ ıઃ Ȝ੼ȖİȚȢǜ įİ૙ȟȠȞ ਲȝ૙Ȟ IJઁȞ ʌĮIJ੼ȡĮ; (“Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’?”) (14:9). Here we again find the language of indwelling: Ƞ੝ ʌȚıIJİ઄İȚȢ ੖IJȚ ਥȖઅ ਥȞ IJ૶ ʌĮIJȡ੿ țĮ੿ ੒ ʌĮIJ੽ȡ ਥȞ ਥȝȠ઀ ਥıIJȚȞ; (“Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?” 14:10; repeated similarly in 14:11, ਥȖઅ ਥȞ IJ૶ ʌĮIJȡ੿ țĮ੿ ੒ ʌĮIJ੽ȡ ਥȞ ਥȝȠ઀. “I am in the Father and the Father is in me”). The explanation which follows this statement in 14:9 shows that we have moved outside the envoy model, for it speaks in the present 25

Bauckham, “Monotheism,” suggests that the statement may allude to the Shema (Deut 6:4) (p. 163). This is possible, although the primary focus must be the functional equivalence which precedes and its basis in the Son’s belonging to the divine family. 26 McGrath, Christology, sees a link here between Adam, those at Sinai, and Adam typology in the Philippian hymn where Jesus is given the name of God (pp. 122–25). 27 On this see Larry W. Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 374. On 10:38 as explaining 10:30, see Klaus Scholtissek, “‘Ich und der Vater, wir sind eins’ (Joh 10,30). Zum theologischen Potential und zur hermeneutischen Kompetenz der johanneischen Christologie,” in Theology and Christology in the Fourth Gospel. Essays by the Members of the SNTS Johannine Writings Seminar, ed. G. van Belle, J. G. van der Watt, and P. Maritz, BETL 184 (Leuven: Peeters, 2005), 315–45, 338–39.

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tense: IJ੹ ૧੾ȝĮIJĮ ਘ ਥȖઅ Ȝ੼ȖȦ ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ ਕʌૅ ਥȝĮȣIJȠ૨ Ƞ੝ ȜĮȜ૵, ੒ į੻ ʌĮIJ੽ȡ ਥȞ ਥȝȠ੿ ȝ੼ȞȦȞ ʌȠȚİ૙ IJ੹ ਩ȡȖĮ Į੝IJȠ૨ (“The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; but the Father who dwells in me does his works”) (14:10). The statement about indwelling is then repeated and as in 10:38 the plea at least to believe in his works: ʌȚıIJİ઄İIJ੼ ȝȠȚ ੖IJȚ ਥȖઅ ਥȞ IJ૶ ʌĮIJȡ੿ țĮ੿ ੒ ʌĮIJ੽ȡ ਥȞ ਥȝȠ઀ǜ İੁ į੻ ȝ੾, įȚ੹ IJ੹ ਩ȡȖĮ Į੝IJ੹ ʌȚıIJİ઄İIJİ (“Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves”) (14:11). The author then has Jesus go on to address the future of the disciples and in this context also employs the envoy model. They are to be sent, as the Son was sent (14:12; 20:21). In the instructions to the disciples we also find reference to deeds, indeed, greater deeds (14:12). These are not more fantastic miracles but greater spread and effect. Their “commandments” (14:15) are their commission. Their equipping is the Spirit (14:16), which was among them in Jesus but will now be in them (ਫ਼ȝİ૙Ȣ ȖȚȞઆıțİIJİ Į੝IJં, ੖IJȚ ʌĮȡૅ ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ ȝ੼ȞİȚ țĮ੿ ਥȞ ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ ਩ıIJĮȚ. “You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you” 14:17), mediating also the indwelling of Jesus himself and God and bringing to their memory what Jesus taught and who he was (14:18–26). If one compares their situation with that of Jesus, they are clearly of different status, Jesus, the pre-existent Son, the disciples, mere mortals, but both are commissioned and authorised. Both do the same deeds. Both experience indwelling (14:10–11, 20, 23; 17:21–23). Both bring memory, though in the case of the disciples that is extensive and rich in information, where with the Son little information is given. The Son acts for God in offering life, as more than just an envoy and agent, for he is the Son, whereas the disciples are agents who by passing on the story of Jesus offer the life he offered and not themselves such that to honour them is to honour Jesus or the Father as it applies to the Son.

Deviation from the Envoy Model and Johannine Christology What then does the deviation from the envoy model imply in the passages we have considered? Neither for the Son not for the disciples is it applied in a way that treats either as agents no longer in communication with their senders. The language of indwelling and the deviation in 5:19–20 indicate constant contact. The problem that might pose for the envoy model is significantly dissipated when we recognise that it does not function as a communication of information model in relation to the Son (as it does for the disciples). So it is not as though we have one model indicating information-giving in pre-existence and another indicating information-giving during Jesus’ ministry. The focus is not communication of information but invitation to relationship. Dislocation remains, inasmuch as the Son has come from and will return to the Father and

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so is absent from the Father in some sense and looks to return to the glory he had with the Father before the world began. There is no need, with Bultmann, to deny the spatial differentiation as though its function is purely mythological. On the other hand, the language of indwelling indicates presence. What we are seeing here is simply typical of common understandings of God’s relative presence in Judaism (including Christianity) of the time, sometimes accommodated by speaking of the presence of God’s Spirit as the interim manifestation. On a few occasions Jesus expressly asserts that the Father is with him (8:16; 8:29; 16:32). Paradoxically the conjoint notions of absence and presence come together in 8:29 when the author has Jesus assert that the Father who sent him is with him (țĮ੿ ੒ ʌ੼ȝȥĮȢ ȝİ ȝİIJૅ ਥȝȠ૨ ਥıIJȚȞǜ Ƞ੝ț ਕijોț੼Ȟ ȝİ ȝંȞȠȞ, ੖IJȚ ਥȖઅ IJ੹ ਕȡİıIJ੹ Į੝IJ૶ ʌȠȚ૵ ʌ੺ȞIJȠIJİ. “And the one who sent me is with me; he has not left me alone, for I always do what is pleasing to him”). The movement from above and back to above remains essential for John’s christology and matches the way it promises the disciples that they too shall be with him where he is (12:26; 13:36; 17:24), but in the interim are not there yet (13:33; 16:16–28). A further text of potential relevance is 1:18. We have already noted that the author frequently makes the claim that the Son can make the Father known on the basis of what he has seen and heard. His opponents have not seen God. He has. This is also what is stated in 1:18 ĬİઁȞ Ƞ੝įİ੿Ȣ ਦઆȡĮțİȞ ʌઆʌȠIJİǜ ȝȠȞȠȖİȞ੽Ȣ șİઁȢ ੒ ੫Ȟ İੁȢ IJઁȞ țંȜʌȠȞ IJȠ૨ ʌĮIJȡઁȢ ਥțİ૙ȞȠȢ ਥȟȘȖ੾ıĮIJȠ (“No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known”). Within the framework of envoy christology it refers to Jesus’ present exalted state.28 He came from the Father and has returned to him. These words form an inclusion therefore with țĮ੿ ੒ ȜંȖȠȢ ਷Ȟ ʌȡઁȢ IJઁȞ șİંȞ, țĮ੿ șİઁȢ ਷Ȟ ੒ ȜંȖȠȢ. Ƞ੤IJȠȢ ਷Ȟ ਥȞ ਕȡȤૌ ʌȡઁȢ IJઁȞ șİંȞ (“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God”) (1:1–2). Alternatively, one can read it outside the envoy model as indicating that there has been no movement. On earth he was also İੁȢ IJઁȞ țંȜʌȠȞ IJȠ૨ ʌĮIJȡંȢ (close to the Father’s heart) (1:18) and so made him known. Most do, in fact, read it this way.29 While it is possible, I think it unlikely. Imagery of seeing God belongs in the heavenly realm. Similarly, there is real movement and action implied in the statement that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us. The translation, “and we beheld his glory as of a father’s only son,” misses the weight which įંȟĮ carries in John. His glory was not just what one might see in any firstborn, but divine glory. John then tells 28 So also John Painter, The Quest for the Messiah, 2nd ed. (Edinburgh, T&T Clark, 1993), 156; McGrath, Christology, 136–37, 140, who points out that it is the equivalent of being seated at God’s right hand and reflects exaltation tradition refracted through wisdom tradition (cf. Wis 9:4). 29 E.g., Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 107; Keener, John, 648.

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us that this glory was manifest in miracles and in the deeds and words which the Son brought, most clearly expressed in Jesus’ final prayer, where he declares; “The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one,23 I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me” (17:22–23). Again, we are in the realm of the Spirit mediating mutual indwelling. The “I am” statements function in John in a way that focuses on presence. For those who read them as divine self-disclosure, as in Second Isaiah (e.g., 43:11–12; cf. also Exod 3:14),30 or as deliberate echoes of the language of divine disclosure 31, this is manifestly so, though even then the envoy framework of movement and time remains. While the absolute statements may be saying no more than, “It is I,” at least the “I am” with predicates like, light, life, and bread, claim for Jesus what others claimed for Wisdom/Torah.32 Furthermore the response of faith which the John of Jesus calls for equates faith in Jesus with faith in God on that basis. While Jesus comes as envoy, he comes not as a human agent, but as the Son, understood as so participating in divine being as to create the situation that to respond to him is to respond to God, without however merging the two, as though God descended. The conceptual resolution of this unequal duality grounded in identity of substance, as with Wisdom, but complicated, unlike Wisdom, by the need to retain the integrity of a human Jesus, would have to wait for later generations, who would simultaneously fend off reductions of Jesus’ humanness and divineness, while paradoxically affirming the fullness of both within a Trinitarian unity which sought to preserve unequal roles which derived from the structure of envoy model. John’s christology combines assumptions about the nature of the Son, derived ultimately from Wisdom mythology, with the envoy model. The former gives substance to the claim that the Son in his person is God’s word and invitation, so that to respond to him is to respond to God. He is thus the light, bread, life, glory, and the revelation of God, that is, to see him is to see the 30

So Bauckham, “Monotheism,” who identifies two sets of “I am” sayings in John matching the seven occurrences in the Old Testament (pp. 157). Cf. Keener, John, who asks: “Would John really have counted the occurrences in the OT (in any case, outside DeuteroIsaiah, who uses it six times)?” (p. 318 n. 329). 31 So McGrath, Christology, who writes “it portrays Jesus as the bearer of the divine name, the agent upon whom God has bestowed his name” (p. 106) and appropriately entitles his discussion “I obey, therefore, I am” (pp. 103–16). “The issue does not appear to have been about whether the Johannine Christians were still monotheists, but about whether the one to who they attributed various divine prerogatives and honours was God’s appointed agent, or a rebel against God who sought to out himself in God’s place” (p. 114). 32 On the significance of the “I am” sayings in going beyond the envoy model see also Schwankl, “Aspekte,” 357–62.

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Father. The envoy framework has been adapted to serve that message by drawing attention to the Son’s authorisation and commission to come embodying God’s word and invitation. It is not dependent for its effectiveness on the assumption of absence, including absence of communication, since what is communicated is not information but the word of invitation to relationship in which is life and the absence is relativised by assumptions about the flexibility of divine spatiality which can assume God’s presence through the Spirit while on the journey to the glory of God’s heavenly presence.

6. What is “finished”? Revisiting Tensions in the Structure of Johannine Christology The death of Jesus was the focus of a substantial part of my book, The Christology of the Fourth Gospel: Structure and Issues, published in 1989.1 I have continued to reflect on it since, both in lecturing and learning from the research of others. My initial foray was a conference paper published in 1978, and a substantial article in 1984.2 The book significantly expanded and revised the article, adding new dimensions and changing others. The article arose from my focus on tradition-historical analysis, as in my earlier work on Hebrews, Sohn und Hoherpriester. 3 The book sought to deal with the text as we have it. In this paper I revisit key issues of our theme. In the book I argued that there is an underlying structure beneath the christological statements which appear on the surface of the text. Without pressing every detail, it could be represented in the following statement: The Father sends and authorises the Son, who knows the Father, comes from the Father, makes the Father known, brings light and life and truth, completes his Father's work, returns to the Father, exalted, glorified, ascended, sends the disciples and sends the Spirit to enable greater understanding, to equip for mission and to build up the community of faith.4

1

William R. G. Loader, The Christology of the Fourth Gospel. Structure and Issues, 2nd ed., BBET 23 (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1992), revised and extensively expanded in William R. G. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel: Structure and Issues in Johannine Christology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017). 2 William R. G. Loader, “The Central Structure of Johannine Christology,” in Religious Studies in the Pacific, ed. John Hinchcliff, Jack Lewis, and Kapil Tiwari (Auckland: Colloquium Publishers, 1978), 87–95; William R. G. Loader, “The Central Structure of Johannine Christology,” NTS 30 (1984): 188–216, chapter 1 in this volume. 3 William R. G. Loader, Sohn und Hoherpriester: Eine traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zur Christologie des Hebräerbriefes, WMANT 53 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1981). 4 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 121–44.

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I argued that within this structure of thought the various elements received their meaning for the author. The pattern consistently comes to expression at structurally significant points, in the prologue, in Jesus’ final prayer, in brief and concluding summaries (e.g., 3:31–36; 12:44–50) and throughout the discourses. It has found wide acceptance5 and provides a useful starting for discussion of our theme. Accordingly, the good news of the fourth gospel is that the Father sent the Son to make the Father known. This employs the model of the envoy so important in the ancient world as the means of telecommunication. It is also a revelation model: he makes the Father known. But both models are subservient to the notion that the Son offers life to those who will accept it and this life consists in an ongoing relationship with the Son and the Father in this life and beyond death in heavenly glory. I differed from Bultmann in this by arguing that John retains the spatial and temporal elements; they are not to be demythologized. Jesus came from there and later went away to there. 6 Those remain the dimensions of soteriology. This employment of the envoy revealer model who offered life in personal encounter still seems to me to be fundamental to John’s christology and soteriology. It has an important bearing on how we understand Jesus’ death in John. In his recent monograph, The Power of Saving Wisdom, 7 Cornelis Bennema engages my work extensively. He begins by raising criticism about my treatment of the Jesus’ saving death,8 but ends, surprisingly, by taking me to task for not giving sufficient emphasis to Wisdom as the bearer of life.9 I concur; my work on the Law also emphasised that. 10 The effect is to reinforce my conclusions: the offer of life comes in the person of Jesus, already in his ministry. 5 Including Rudolf Schnackenburg in his review in BZ 35 (1991): 135–37; Xavier LéonDufour in RSR 79 (1991): 300–303, and Raymond E. Brown in An Introduction to the Gospel of John, ed. Francis J. Moloney (New York: Doubleday, 2003), 252. 6 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 2–12. 7 Cornelis Bennema, The Power of Saving Wisdom: An Investigation of Spirit and Wisdom in Relation to the Soteriology of the Fourth Gospel, WUNT 2.148 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002). See my review in Colloquium 35 (2003): 102–106. 8 Bennema, Saving Wisdom, 5–7. 9 Bennema, Saving Wisdom, 14–44, 210. 10 My work on the Law has emphasized this aspect. See William R. G. Loader, Jesus' Attitude towards the Law: A Study of the Gospels, WUNT 2.97 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 432–91; William R. G. Loader, “‘Your Law’ – the Johannine Perspective,” in “… was ihr auf dem Weg verhandelt habt.” Beiträge zur Exegese und Theologie des Neuen Testaments. Festschrift für Ferdinand Hahn zum 75. Geburtstag, ed. P. Müller, C. Gerber, and T. Knöppler (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2001), 63–74; William R. G. Loader, “Jesus and the Law in John,” in Theology and Christology in the Fourth Gospel: Essays by Members of the Johannine Writings Seminar, ed. G. van Belle, J. G. van der Watt, and P. Maritz; BETL 184 (Leuven: Peeters, 2005), 85–104.

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What then about the cross? Is it soteriological in John? In what sense? We should not be so overwhelmed by Paul and related traditions to overlook the fact that the issue is also relevant for the other gospels. Mark has the universal offer of forgiveness of sins begin with John the Baptist and continue in the ministry of Jesus. Vicarious atonement, though not absent, is not central in any of them. It is arguably present in the ransom saying (Mark 10:45) and the narrative of the Last Supper (Mark 14:24), but Luke deletes it from the former (Luke 22:27) and never has it appear as a component of apostolic preaching. It leaves more traces in John. Here we confront an issue of logical coherence. Jesus in himself is so sufficient in John that on the face of it, it is hard to see what might be added. His death might signal his task of offering life as complete. Indeed, I think this is the meaning of “It is finished,” an echo of 17:4 “having finished the work you gave me to do” (see also 4:34). Through death he returns to the Father in glory. But there is far too much emphasis on the climax of Jesus’ ministry, including his death, for it to be reduced to a mere point of exit. 11 Does that emphasis also include death as vicarious atonement? Is not full atonement present in the ministry of Jesus? I think it is. One solution is to read John as placing into the ministry of Jesus what is effectively true only after Easter, so that when Jesus offers life we must understand that to be the life first made possible through Jesus’ death and sacrifice for sins.12 But while it is to be acknowledged that John, even more dramatically than the first three gospels, is drawn from a post Easter perspective, the author, more than they do, usually makes a very clear distinction between what was present in the ministry and what was possible and available only afterwards by numerous footnotes. So we read that the Spirit was not yet given until after Jesus was glorified (7:39) and only after Easter did the disciples see or remember certain things (2:22; 12:16). The gift of eternal life including forgiveness of sins is not among such delayed items.13 One should not confuse diachronic and synchronic perspectives. Viewed diachronically we understand how Post Easter perspectives have been 11

de Boer’s review of my work recognizes this as an important difference between my approach and that of Käsemann and Bultmann. See Martinus C. de Boer, Johannine Perspectives on the Death of Jesus, BET 17 (Kampen: Pharos, 1996), 27–29. 12 Most notably Wilhelm Thüsing, Die Erhöhung und Verherrlichung Jesu im Johannesevangelium, 3rd ed., NTA 21 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1979), 321–25. 13 Reflecting on John’s hearers who have a post-Easter perspective, Maarten J. J. Menken, “The Christology of the Fourth Gospel: A Survey of Recent Research,” in From Jesus to John: Essays on Jesus and New Testament Christology in Honour of Marinus de Jonge, ed. M. de Boer, JSNTS 84 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), 292–320, writes: “From that perspective, it perhaps does not make too much difference whether Jesus’ gift of life is bound to his incarnation (6:51ab) or to his death (6:51c)” (p. 301). This may be true of the Johannine community but it is an important issue for investigating Johannine soteriology.

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retrojected into the ministry of Jesus. Viewed synchronically, however, the text resulting from this process cannot be interpreted to imply that the benefits which it now celebrates as present in Jesus’ ministry were in fact only proleptically available because they depended on the atoning achievement of Jesus’ death. Such a misreading also fails to give weight to the importance of the image of Jesus as the Logos who brings the offer of eternal into the world in his person, much as Jewish tradition had affirmed of the Law: as light, life and bread, but now as the true light, life and bread. What the Spirit-Paraclete now recalls for the disciples is what Jesus’ significance was already then. Already then, he was the Christ. From the perspective of the world of the text, however that world came to be created (and surely through a process of retrojection) the gift of life came in the Son in his ministry. His death then enabled that life to be available to all the world through the gift of the Spirit and the empowering of the disciples for mission. The text assumes that the people whom Jesus met received more than a promissory note that eternal life would become available later after a transaction of atonement on the cross released it. The text grounds that offer of life in the coming of the Word and the opportunity to respond there and then in faith.14 My analysis of Jesus’ death recognised, as had others before me, that John closely associated death, resurrection, exaltation, glorification, ascension, return to the Father, the hour, as a single complex event with significant consequences, including the gift of the Spirit. My article had drawn attention to what I called a cluster of concepts including Son of Man, exaltation, glorification, ascent and descent, the hour, and the notion of “something greater”. The book then investigated all references to what I called this “greater event” centred on Jesus’ death and showed how these were integrated into the author’s christology. 15 These included passages where the earthly Jesus spoke of something more or greater to come, indications of what was to come, for instance, the Spirit, and the effects: remembering and new understanding of Jesus’ ministry, equipping the disciples for greater work, and so gathering people through mission. What emerges is a coherent structure of thought, represented by Jesus’ instruction: “As my Father sent me, even so I send you” (20:21). Within this structure other important elements find their place, not least that this return to glory was via the path of real suffering, an important model for

14

See also my discussion in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 266–80. John Painter’s review of my 1984 article (se note 2 above), “The Point of John’s Christology: Christology, Conflict and Community in John,” in Christology, Controversy and Community: New Testament Essays in Honour of David R. Catchpole, ed. D. G. Horrell and C. M. Tuckett, NovTSup 99 (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 231–52, calls for discussion of integration (pp. 242–48). The monograph does this extensively. 15

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the disciples, and that this climax was revelatory both of God and of evil and that it brought to its ultimate end or, one might say, depth the work of the Son throughout his ministry of making the Father known. 16 Jesus tells his disciples in their distress that it is good that he goes away like this, because it will bring them the benefit of the Spirit and enable them to do greater work, reaching out to the world. Earlier he spoke of laying down his life in order that he might take it up again (10:17–18). Unquestionably John emphasizes that Jesus lays down his life for the sake of his own (10:11, 15), but this now appears within a framework of thought where the focus is not laying down his life as an atonement for sins but laying down his life that he might return to the Father and send the Spirit and the life out into all the world. That life was there in the ministry but will now reach the world. In my work I was nevertheless wary of arguments from consistency. The fact is that we do find in John a number of statements which, at least if taken in isolation, sound like statements about Jesus’ death as vicarious atonement. These include not only those about laying down his life (10:11, 15, 17–18; 6:51; 15:13), but also the Spirit-inspired utterance of the high priest about one man dying for the people (11:50–52) and, not least, 1:29. But it is not enough to identify them. We must also ask how they cohere with the structures of John’s christology and soteriology.17 If they do not, then perhaps the structure is wrong, but even if it is not, they must not be explained away for the sake of tidy argument. When I examined them, I concluded that, unlike in 1 John, those in John are present in the text in a way similar to those traditional statements about eschatology we find in 5:28–29; 6:39, 40, 44, 54. They are not to be excised or explained away but they no longer carry the weight of John’s soteriology. Some may have lost for the author any connotations of vicarious atonement and now express an action for the benefit of others in love but work differently. One value of my construction is that it identified an underlying coherent structure of Johannine thought in Johannine terms and that it did expose anomalies, which may just be apparent but may be real. In the second part of my paper I want to return to some of these anomalies which have continued to concern me. One is 1:29. Can one really treat “the 16

Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 381–84. de Boer, Johannine Perspectives, argues that the prospect of martyrdom effected a development in christology in which exaltation and glorification moved from focusing on Easter to focus on the cross. Possibly so, but in the extant text exaltation and glorification still mean the total event. 17 Bennema, Saving Wisdom, notes the case for vicarious atonement in John made by Thomas Knöppler, Die theologia crucis des Johannesevangeliums: Das Verständnis des Todes Jesu im Rahmen der johanneischen Inkarnations- und Erhöhungschristologie, WMANT 69 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1994), but rightly notes his failure to relate it to a theology of salvation (p. 6 n. 27).

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lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” as a vestige of vicarious atonement but no longer carrying much weight in John? Is it not the climax of John’s inspired testimony? My analysis had played down the Passover imagery of the passion narrative, preferring to see in the uncrushed bones an allusion to Psalm 34:21.18 I am now not sure that that is sustainable. The Passover motif is important in John’s passion. 1:29 allows itself to be read proleptically as an allusion to this. Surely that enhances its significance. At the same time, I now recognize much more than before the dominance of the Messiah motif in the context of 1:19–51 as it stands and not just in the background. John is not the Messiah, a theme laboured at length in 1:19–28. Who is? That becomes the major issue for the hearer. 1:29 surely tells us, as we would expect. It is not telling us something different about Jesus. This is the moment of John’s making the Messiah known to Israel, indicated in 1:31. Messiahship also remains the focus in what follows. Andrew tells Simon about the Messiah (1:41). Philip then informs Nathanael who hails Jesus in messianic language as “Son of God, King of Israel” (1:49). Israel now knows its Messiah. It would be compatible with the strongly messianic motifs in the context to see in 1:29 a reference to one of the key roles in royal messianic expectation: the removal of sin from the land.19 That need not exclude multilevel allusions, including to the Passover image, but there, too, it might be understood more as a celebration of delivery than one of vicarious atonement which is not what the Passover is about, although such notions merge into it among the mixed metaphors of developing tradition. 20 The Son offers life and light and truth in his person in his ministry, but there are passages which refer to a future promise of life. John 6 is a prime example where we have juxtaposed the promise that the Son of Man will give life in the future (6:27), then picked up in the statements about having life by eating and drinking the flesh and blood of the Son of Man (6:53), beside statements that Jesus is the bread of life who has come down from heaven and is present. I think there is a eucharistic allusion in the future references here and also more subtly in the wedding feast at Cana. In the former we see again John’s sense of time. From the perspective of the narrative world of John 6 eating and drinking and the flesh and blood of the Son of Man is a future gift. It does violence to the text, however, to press these eucharistic allusions to the point of denying that before them, that is, during the ministry of Jesus, any bread of life was

18

Loader, Christology, 96. Already C. H. Dodd, The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1953), 237. 20 See now the important study of Christine Schlund, “Kein Knochen soll gebrochen werden”: Studien zu Bedeutung und Funktion des Pesachfests in Texten des frühen Judentums und im Johannesevangelium, WMANT 107 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2005), which calls into question the allusion to vicarious sacrifice. 19

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present, and especially on the basis that a vicarious transaction had not been achieved. The transitional verse, “The bread which I give is my flesh which I give for the life of the world” (6:51), could reflect such thought but more likely represents the whole giving of Jesus’ life which reaches its climax in his death, rather than a moment of transaction achieved by the latter. Or might John mean both without concern to harmonise what are diverse traditions? We find the same issue also in John 3:12–21. The greater things to which Jesus alludes are his ascent as Son of Man (3:13), a contrast implicit also in 1:50–51. The greater things include his being lifted up like the snake in the wilderness so that people might have life (3:14–15). The “lifting up” here, as in 12:32–34, where it is explicit, must allude to Jesus’ death – something greater yet to come. Accordingly, this must mean that life will come to people as they behold the crucified Christ. 12:32 says as much: “And I, if I be lifted up will draw all people to myself.” This might suggest that the gift of life is in fact not available until that moment. I think it is clear in both texts, as it was in John 6:51–58, that this refers to the offer of life which comes a result of Jesus’ being crucified, when the mission inspired will bring the good news of eternal life to the world. This should not, to my mind, draw with it the conclusion that eternal life is available only then and not already during the ministry, any more than it did in John 6. It comes, in part, because on completing the task of his ministry Jesus returns to the Father (ascends as Son of Man! 3:13) and sends the Spirit and the disciples in mission now to offer this life to the wider world. The lifting up of the Son of Man thus makes the mission of drawing all to himself (12:32) through the disciples possible, bearing the fruit of his death (12:24) as the context indicates when he is glorified (12:23). And here, quite consistently, John indicates that unfaith sees this event of the Son of Man’s lifting up as only crucifixion but faith sees it as also the way to exaltation, which will mean life will be offered to all.21 It is not that the crucifixion, exaltation and ascent first create the gift of life. Rather they help make it available. This is why after 3:13–15 the author can go on directly in 3:16–18 and especially 3:19–21 to speak of this life as the coming of light into the world in the person of Jesus, enabling people already in the here and now of his presence to pass from judgement to eternal life.

21 Most recently in Editor’s notes to Brown, Introduction to the Gospel of John, Francis J. Moloney dissents from Brown in arguing that “lifting up” means only crucifixion and that we should not import into it notions of exaltation to God, (p. 256 n. 82; p. 288 n. 22). In contrast, I see the word-play with “lifting up” belonging within a cluster of concepts, connected with the Son of Man title, including glorification, and ascension, which refer to the climax of Jesus’ life and its benefits, including knowledge. “When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you shall know” (8:28). Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 213–64.

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These are not the only occasions where John has Jesus speak both with regard to his person and ministry, on the one hand, and at the same time of what will become available to all. When confronted with such instances we should not, I believe, try to tidy them up by explaining away one or other aspect but seek to hear both together. Mostly John differentiates clearly, such as when he notes that the Spirit has not yet been given (7:39) or that the disciples did not yet understand (2:22; 12:16; 8:28), informed by his notion that the Paraclete would bring such knowledge and recall (14:26). But this is not always the case. “The hour is coming and now is” in 4:23 introduces a statement about worship in spirit and truth. It follows another in 4:21 which predicts that in future people will worship neither at Gerizim nor at Jerusalem. The “now is” assumes the presence of the Spirit and by implication through 2:22 the resurrected body of Christ, the new temple. 7:37–39 promises flowing water from within to those who believe in Jesus but then reminds us that this was a promise for the future since the Spirit had not yet been given. How was it different from the water welling up promised during the ministry to the Samaritan woman?22 It certainly does not mean the Spirit was absent, let alone, non-existent during Jesus’ ministry. Rather what he bore then will be borne by all who receive the Easter gift (cf. 14:17, “He was with you and will be in you”). 23 In my more recent studies on the Law in John, which in some ways redress the imbalance noted by Menken about the missing salvation-historical dimension in my account, 24 I find in the author a lover of his heritage finding in the Law a witness in word, story and ritual (notably in the feasts) to the Son, in ways that prefigure at the level of the flesh the truth of the Spirit.25 But it is interesting that no attempt is made, as in Hebrews, to develop a typology of atonement, whereas other feasts and rituals feature strongly. I think this is further indication that this is not the author’s primary model in thinking about what the Son came to do. Another motif which appears in relation to the climax of Jesus’ life is that of the casting out, or judgement of, the prince of this world (12:31; 16:11). In 14:30 Jesus warns he is about to come. This apocalyptic imagery has its roots in the eschatological vision of the casting down of Satan or the devil. John typically engages the imagery to refer to something in the life of Jesus. At one level one could argue that this, too, must mark a turning point before which the prince of this world ruled, so that only in the death of Jesus is salvation achieved, namely through his expulsion. It is to form part of the message with which the Spirit through the disciples will confront the world (16:11). I still think we see here the same kind of application of eschatological categories as 22

See also 3:13 and 32 which reflect anachronism. See Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 266–80. 24 Menken, “Christology,” 301. 25 See n. 10 above. 23

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we find in references to resurrection (e.g., 5:24). 26 John uses the motif to refer to the exposure (revelation!) of evil by the climactic rejection of the Son, of light by darkness, at the cross, which did not overcome it. Or does that too easily solve the tension? There are other unevennesses which should not be pulled straight. At some points the envoy revealer model collapses to a point where one wonders if Bultmann was right after all that the aspects of time and space should also be demythologized. The Son comes to make the Father known. He comes from glory and returns to glory. Within the model he declares that he is doing as he was commanded and telling what he has seen and heard. If pressed, the model implies he was operating from memory in the absence of God, but, like an envoy, authorised to act for God. This cannot be so. At the very least he carries in his own being an identity from eternity which warrants the assertion, “and the Word was God.” In other words. in his own being he presents people with life. This already pushes the envoy model to the limit. It also explains why he bears glory already on earth, even though the author retains the thought that he has come from the Father’s glory and on earth has yet to return to it. Another point where the model might seem to collapse is in what appears to be a father-son apprentice image in 5:17–19. “The Son does nothing of his own accord but what he sees the Father doing.” The Father will show him greater things, which appear to include the exercise of judgement. The context returns immediately to the envoy model, but it raises the possibility that we might collapse all envoy statements into affirmations of ongoing unity and communication between Father and Son. Again, I think that does violence to the text. The language of present learning arises here (and only here) because of the apprenticeship model. Nevertheless, John still assumes that despite the coming and going the presence of Jesus and later of the Spirit does not entail the absence of God. 27 The difference is a matter of degree: the presence of the Father in the Son is of a sufficiently different quality from the Son’s presence in the glory which he had with the Father before the world came into being to make sense of movement from and to and so of the envoy model. The Johannine passion narrative reflects the tradition of irony which sees in the mockery of the King of the Jews an unwitting allusion to the truth. It is possible to read the Johannine passion in such a way that it sets forth proleptically the “greater event” or even enacts it. Do its motifs of royal enthronement foreshadow the heavenly exaltation? Is the giving of the Spirit represented in Jesus’ last gasp? Are the sacraments or the eucharist and the Spirit represented in the blood and water flowing from the side of Jesus? I am less confident than I was in dismissing such allusions. I argued that the royal 26

Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 202–13. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 308–15. See also the discussion of John 5 in the previous chapter. 27

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messianic motifs celebrated who Jesus was already in his ministry in John not what was to come, pointing out that John does not employ royal messianic motifs to depict Christ’s exaltation, glorification and return to the Father.28 Is John alluding to the gift of the Spirit when he gives up his or the spirit? I now consider it quite possible that such allusions are present, but as symbolically proleptic, rather than interpreting the crucifixion itself as the single moment which combines exaltation, return, glorification, ascension, return, giving the Spirit. Arguably this might fit John’s anthropology but it really would leave the traditional narrative of resurrection on the third day somewhat orphaned. I remain convinced that the structure does carry a certain logic to it and does integrate also the statements about Jesus’ death. At the same time, as John enables us to see both the beloved disciple and Peter beside a number of less acceptable followers, so he integrates a rich variety of tradition beside his own distinctive emphases and to a large degree integrates them, though not without remainder. His own anthropology and christology also creates its own range of problems and inconsistencies with the tradition, as subsequent history shows. It is very much a work in process. I end then as I began some thirty years ago: with ongoing questions about how a traditiohistorical analysis might enable us to understand the final product of his work better, not least his statements about the climax of Jesus’ ministry, but also with a sense that the product is in fact far from final and should not be forced to seem so.

28

See Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 230–40.

Soteriology

7. The Significance of the Prologue for Understanding John’s Soteriology The issue of soteriology in the fourth gospel remains vexed. There are those who emphasise the atoning nature of Christ’s death as a core element of Johannine soteriology1 and those who see it as at best marginal, if present at all, and locate soteriology in relation to response to the offer of life by the earthly Jesus during his ministry and the risen Jesus after his death.2 Some might argue that we should give the prologue little weight when considering John’s soteriology and that it should not be treated as a summary of John’s gospel, let alone as indicating his soteriology.3 It scarcely mentions Jesus’ death and then primarily as rejection. One might argue that it is also atypical of the rest of the gospel, where its distinctive motif of the Logos and of the Logos becoming flesh does not recur, 4 and the language of “grace and 1 So Udo Schnelle, “Markinische und johanneische Kreuzestheologie” in The Death of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, ed. G. van Belle, BETL 200 (Leuven: Peeters, 2007), 233–58; Jörg Frey, “Edler Tod – wirksamer Tod – stellvertretender Tod – heilschaffender Tod: Zur narrativen und theologischen Deutung des Todes Jesu im Johannesevangelium,” in The Death of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, ed. G. van Belle, BETL 20 (Leuven: Peeters, 2007), 65–94; Michael Labahn, “Bedeutung und Frucht des Todes Jesu im Spiegel des johanneischen Erzählaufbaus,” in The Death of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, ed. G. van Belle, BETL 20 (Leuven: Peeters, 2007), 431–56. 2 Jan G. van der Watt, “Salvation in the Gospel According to John,” in Salvation in the New Testament. Perspectives on Soteriology, ed. Jan G. van der Watt, NovTSup 121 (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 101–31, writes: “We might, therefore, conclude that although John does not emphasize or focus on substitution or sacrifice, there are some insinuations in that direction. However, these references do not come into focus at all. They are secondary to the revelatory function of the cross events” (p. 116). 3 Already Adolf von Harnack, “Über das Verhältnis des Prologs des vierten Evangeliums zum ganzen Werk,” ZThK 2 (1892): 189–231, argued, for instance, that that the prologue was not the key to the gospel but was written to prepare the Hellenistic reader (p. 230). See the extensive discussion of earlier research in Michael E. Theobald, Die Fleischwerdung des Logos: Studien zum Verhältnis des Johannesprologs zum Corpus des Evangeliums und zu 1 Joh, NTAbh 20 (Münster: Aschendorf, 1988), 3–161. 4 On this see Theobald, Fleischwerdung, who argued that the prologue was added by a redactor at a stage where christological dualism based on a particular interpretation of Jesus’ baptism was beginning to emerge, such as he detects behind the conflict in 1 John (pp. 295, 491–92). The only other place where I would find clear evidence of concern with Jesus’ humanity (and as antidocetic) in the gospel is in 19:35. Theobald would have seen here, as in the prologue with its emphasis on creation and on incarnation (1:14) and in 21:24–25,

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truth,” at least “grace” and much more is not found. 5 Indeed the argument has been made that seeing the prologue as a late addition helps explain such unevenness. 6 At best then the prologue could be seen as the first commentary on the gospel7 and so as reflecting how it could be heard, not in itself insignificant. I am more persuaded by the view that the prologue functions rhetorically as an introduction to what follows, most recently again argued by Jean Zumstein,8 and that for that purpose the author has employed the Jewish traces of the work of a final redactor (p. 372). He contrasted the christology of the prologue and that of the gospel: “Nicht die Vorstellung vom Logos bildet den Rahmen der Christologie des Evs, sondern die vom Menschensohn, der vom Himmel herabgekommen ist und wieder dorthin aufsteigt, um verherrlicht zu werden, der gleichzeitig der Sohn katexochen ist” (p. 491). This does not sufficiently take into account the significant commonality between both in the use of wisdom/Torah imagery and gives undue weight to the Son of Man title, which has a specialized focus in John. He has since revised his assessment and now sees the prologue not as secondary addition by a redactor but as integral to the evangelist’s composition, who draws on the hymnic tradition of his communities to supplement the beginning with John the Baptist which he found in his signs source. Michael E. Theobald, Das Evangelium nach Johannes. Kapitel 1 – 12 (Regensburg: Pustet, 2009), 101–108. He writes: “So verzahnte [original] er ihn mit dem Christushymnus seiner Gemeinden und baute beides zum vorliegenden Prolog aus” (p. 108). 5 See the discussion in Jean Zumstein, “Der Prolog als Schwelle zum vierten Evangelium,” in Der Johannesprolog, ed. Günter Kruck (Darmstadt: WBG, 2009), 49–75, 51–52. He also notes the significant links between the prologue and the gospel: the inclusio between the reference to Jesus as theos in 1:1,18 and 20:28; also the motifs of life, light, coming into the world, glory, truth, faith, knowledge, being born, pre-existence, seeing God, and light-darkness dualism (pp. 52–55). 6 So Theobald, Fleischwerdung, 372. Cf. Peter Hofrichter, Im Anfang war der “Johannesprolog”: Das urchristliche Logosbekenntnis – die Basis neutestamentlicher und gnostischer Theologie, BU 17 (Regensburg: Pustet, 1986), who argues that the gospel is a commentary on the prologue (pp. 13–82). For a critical discussion of both options see Zumstein, “Prolog,” 57–58, 61. See also the review in Johannes Beutler, “Der JohannesProlog – Ouvertüre des Johannesevangeliums,” in Der Johannesprolog, ed. Günter Kruck (Darmstadt: WBG, 2009), 77–106, 78–82. 7 So Raymond F. Collins, “The Oldest Commentary on the Fourth Gospel,” TBT 98 (1978): 1769–75, 1771. 8 Zumstein, “Prolog,” points to the function of a prologue in contemporary Greek and Latin literature (pp. 59–60) and summarises: “Ob innerhalb der Rhetorik oder des Dramas das Vorwort muss die Hörerschaft über den Zweck des Werks unterrichten und ihr die Mittel liefern, dessen Gegenstand und Verlauf zu verstehen” (p. 60). Applied to John he notes: “Der Prolog fasst nicht den Plot der Erzählung zusammen, sondern er sagt, wie die Erzählung, die sich anschliessend entfalten wird, zu lesen ist” (p. 62). Such an introduction also makes the irony work (p. 63). “Der Prolog ist also ein grundsätzlich offener Text, der die Rolle hat, seine Leserschaft an die Erzählung heranzuführen” (p. 69); and again: “Die theologische Funktion des Prologs besteht darin, den hermeneutischen Rahmen festzulegen, innerhalb dessen die joh Erzählung gelesen werden muss” (p. 75). He notes the “Sinnüberfluss” of the prologue by its use of mythical elements and intertextuality that give what follows a wider framework (pp. 72, 75). See also Elizabeth Harris, Prologue and Gospel: The Theology of

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Wisdom/Logos tradition already developed christologically and known to his hearers.9 That tradition has its own story to tell as it was differently developed. We know of at least two directions in which the Wisdom myth was taken in Judaism, one in which Ben Sira, like Baruch, identifies Wisdom with God’s Torah, which took up its dwelling in Israel (Sirach 24; Baruch 3) and one in which as divine Wisdom it found no place (Parables of Enoch, 1 Enoch 42). What was once the story of Wisdom, sometimes identified with Torah, in that sense, God’s word, has become in the prologue the story of Jesus, God’s Son. But that, too, raises such questions as to the nature of this identification. Christological adaptation of that tradition could identify Jesus in at least three different ways: (i) as the Word, not only in creation, but as having first come to his people in the prophets and Torah to make children of God and then as a climax in the flesh as Jesus;10 (ii) as identified with Wisdom Torah, having come to his creation and then in Jesus to his own people who rejected him, except for those who believed who became God’s children, with the reference to coming in the flesh not as a climax but as further explanation about the nature of his coming; or (iii) as identified with Wisdom, God’s word, but not with Torah, and as having come to his creation and in Jesus to his own people who rejected him, except for those who believed and became God’s children, with the reference to coming in the flesh not as a climax but as further explanation about the nature of his coming and set in contrast to God’s gift of the Law.

the Fourth Evangelist, JSNTSup 107 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994): “The prologue, then, sets forth cryptically in advance the religious and philosophical truths which were to be unravelled and explicated in the body of the work” (p. 189); “The prologue’s carefully constructed cryptic unity prepared for the reordering of events, the re-presentation of beliefs and the necessary background and personages for the redevelopment of the theological doctrines which followed” (p. 195). Jo-Ann A. Brant, Dialogue and Drama: Elements of Greek tragedy in the Fourth Gospel (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2004), writes: “In design and function, the prologue of the Fourth Gospel bears significant resemblance to those of Euripides. The prologue initiates the audience into the privileged realm of knowing that makes irony possible, orients the audience to the broader narrative in which the action is situated and prepares it to enter the action in medias res, and calls the audience into being and gives it a role” (p. 17) 9 So rightly Zumstein, “Prolog,” 62. He notes the appeal to commonality in the use of “we” (p. 63). One might note that Paul seeks to achieve common ground with the Romans by similarly citing a known tradition in Rom 1:3–5. 10 The position represented in the Greek fathers and much of church tradition and in recent times again, for instance, by Martin Hengel, “The Prologue of the Gospel of John as the Gateway to Christological Truth,” in The Gospel of John and Christian Theology, ed. Richard Bauckham and Carl Mosser (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), 265–94, 272–82; Daniel Boyarin, “The Gospel of the Memra: Jewish Binitarianism and the Prologue to John,” HTR 94 (2001): 243–84, 275–79. He sees in 1:1–5 a Jewish hymn and 1:6–18 Christian expansion (pp. 262–72).

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Possibly these alternatives reflect various ways in which the Wisdom myth was in fact appropriated christologically, possibly even traceable to various stages in the development of the tradition behind the prologue. The reference to John the Baptist immediately after reference to the Word in creation (1:6– 8), its striking claim that only those responding to the Word could become God’s children (1:12–13), and its sensitive contrast between what Moses and God’s former gift of the Law offered and what the Word offered (1:16–18), convince me that the third of these alternatives best represents John’s understanding of the prologue and, as I have argued elsewhere, best coheres with what we find in the rest of the gospel.11 But before looking beyond the prologue, if we consider all three alternatives, they have in common an understanding of soteriology according to which one receives life and enters a relationship with God through responding positively to God’s word, God’s Wisdom. 12 It is good Judaism: God’s goodness offers a relationship which one accepts by taking on the gift of God’s word in Torah. The christological version is the same, either by identifying Jesus with Torah, or by portraying Jesus as God’s new initiative, to offer the life and truth to which Torah pointed. In both Judaism and in the christological version the offer and the response are essentially the same or of the same kind: believing, accepting the offer, entering the relationship, living out the consequences and enjoying the privileges of being God’s children.13 It is essentially a Jewish soteriology, which in some sense breaks the category, soteriology, or at least its narrowness as it is frequently employed, because it is not about being saved or rescued as a single act but about entering an ongoing relationship where one 11

William R. G. Loader, “The Law and Ethics in John’s Gospel,” in Rethinking the Ethics of John: ‘Implicit Ethics’ in the Johannine Writings, ed. Jan G. van der Watt and Ruben Zimmermann, CCNTE 3, WUNT 291 (Tübingen; Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 143–58, chapter 14 in this volume; see also Beutler, “Johannes-Prolog,” 84–89; Theobald, Johannes, 134–35. 12 Robert H. Gundry, Jesus the Word According to John the Sectarian: A Paleofundamentalist manifesto for Contemporary Evangelicalism, especially Its Elites, in North America (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), argues that “a Christology of the Word dominates the whole of John’s Gospel” (p. 3). Similarly, van der Watt, “Salvation,” locates John in the context of conflict over the issue: “with whom is God and where can he be found (see/heard)?” (p. 102). The offer of life is the central focus of the gospel’s soteriology and its purpose (20:31). He argues that according to John the sin of the disciples of Moses “is clear: it is not expressed in terms of individual deeds or guilt, but in terms of not accepting (believing in) God as he is revealed in and through Jesus (1:9–11; 5:44–46; 8:24; 10:36–39; 15:23–24)” (p. 107). “If the question were asked, ‘From what must a person be saved according to John?’, the answer would be, ‘From a lack of spiritual knowledge and blindness in order to be able to see and know the Father and the Son’” (p. 107). 13 van der Watt, “Salvation,” notes: “Faith is a self-sacrificing, intellectual, and existential acceptance of the message person of Jesus to the extent that it completely transforms a person’s thoughts and deeds in accordance with this message and leads to an obedient life of doing what a child of God should do” (p. 122)

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enjoys the life of God. Not insignificantly it employs the temple metaphor to depict God’s presence in Jesus. 14 Is this typical or atypical of the rest of the gospel? How does one go about answering such a question? One could simply cite some instances where it is not so or where the emphasis lies elsewhere. Surely the prime example is in 1:29 where John the Baptist acclaims the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the of the world.15 Reinforced by the link with paschal lamb imagery which is arguably intended in the passion narrative (18:28; 19:36), the argument seems strong that the author is here saying something different about soteriology: salvation is because Christ died for our sins. I think it can hardly be denied that the author will have known the widespread traditions which interpreted Christ’s death this way, although most of the instances where people find evidence of it in the text are surprisingly ambiguous. The shepherd lays down his life, explains the text, in order that he might take it up again (10:17).16 Laying down one’s life for one’s friends (15:13) does not appear to have atonement in view.17 Having one person die for the people (11:50) is suggestive but also not clearly focused on sin. Jesus’ sanctifying himself in 17:19 stands beside his statements that his disciples are sanctified in or by the truth (17:17; cf. 15:3; 13:10).18 Even the lamb, where a link with the imagery of the Passover lamb may be present, comes in a context dominated by royal 14

So Ulrich Busse, Das Johannesevangelium: Bildlichkeit, Diskurs und Ritual, BETL 162 (Leuven: Peeters, 2002), 332–34; Mary L. Coloe, God Dwells with us: Temple Symbolism in the Fourth Gospel (Collegeville: Liturgical, 2001), who writes: “The Gospel presents God’s dwelling in the midst of humanity not by way of Israel’s Torah, but in the humanity of Jesus” (p. 62). 15 So Schnelle, “Kreuzestheologie,” who notes its prominence and inclusio with 19:35– 37 (pp. 244–45), but then proceeds to homogenise disparate sayings relating to Jesus‘ death, such as “the hour”, as though all are pointing to vicarious atonement. Labahn, “Fleischwerdung,” rightly protests against a statistical approach which fails to recognise the indications from “Aufbau” and “Struktur” which emphasise the central importance of Jesus’ death in John (pp. 432–33) but then does not sufficiently differentiate the strands of John’s interpretation. 16 Thomas Söding, “Einsatz des Lebens: Ein Motiv johanneischen Soteriologie,” in The Death of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, ed. G. van Belle, BETL 200 (Leuven: Peeters, 2007), 363–84, writes: “Jesus setzt sein menschliches Leben (ȥȣȤ੾) ein. Damit die Schafe leben können, stirbt der Hirt. Sühnetheologie liegt fern, exkludierende Stellvertretung nahe; ਫ਼ʌȑȡ heisst nicht ‘wegen’, sondern ‘zugunsten von’ unter Einschluss von ‘anstelle‘. Durch Stellvertretung im Sterben werden die Schafe vor dem Tode bewahrt” (p. 380). Even so, like most other scholars, he does not take John’s own explanation in 10:17 of the purpose of the act sufficiently into account. 17 Söding, “Einsatz des Lebens,” writes: “Nach Joh 15 hat Jesu Tod Heilsbedeutung; aber sie ist nicht unter dem Aspekt der Sündenvergebung entfaltet, sondern der bleibenden Christusgemeinschaft, die zur Gemeinschaft mit Gott führt und die Kirche als Freundesgemeinschaft mit Jesus begründet” (p. 382). 18 Cf. Frey, “Edler Tod,” 92.

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messianic expectation and its language (“Christ”, “Son of God”, “King of Israel”, and probably “Lamb of God”), suggesting that the sin being removed could be something more like the evil of the world than individual’s sins. One may debate the extent to which some or any of these allusions imply that Christ’s death for sins forms part of his christology. 19 I am inclined to believe that the author does know and embrace this tradition, much as I think that this is so among the authors of the synoptic gospels where it is present, though also scarcely central (Mark 10:45; 14:24). On the other hand, reduction of Jesus’ death to merely a point of exit,20 as some have proposed, ignores the prominence given it especially by the repeated reference to it in association with the designation Son of Man as the hour, the moment of his exaltation and glorification, the turning point which releases the Spirit and inaugurates greater things including the disciples’ universal mission. But this rich cluster of ideas should not be homogenised into an atonement theory any more than should “It is finished” (19:30), in which Jesus repeats language used previously to describe his mandate to finish the work of making his Father known and offering life (17:3–4; 4:34). How then does the essentially Jewish soteriology of the prologue relate to the gospel? My own research on this established with wide acceptance that the central structure of Johannine christology portrays the Son coming from the Father who sent him to offer light and life and truth, faced rejection, returned to the Father, exalted and glorified in ascension, then sending the Spirit and the

19

Söding, “Einsatz des Lebens,” notes that the focus in John is not sacrifice of Jesus’ life (Lebenshingabe) but his setting his life on the line (Lebenseinsatz): “Das relativiert nicht die Bedeutung des Todes Jesu, aber verbindet ihn mit seinem Leben, und zwar nicht unter dem Aspekt des Geschicks, das Jesus erteilt, sondern der göttlichen Vollmacht, die Jesus im Leben wie im Sterben wahrnimmt” (p. 372). David Rensberger, “The Messiah Who Has Come into the World; the Message of the Gospel of John,” in Jesus in Johannine Tradition, ed. Robert Fortna and Tom Thatcher (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001), 15–24, writes: “The Fourth Evangelist does not develop a theory of atonement, or of any other specific relation between Jesus’ death and the forgiveness of sins … Jesus’ death is for the benefit of those who believe in him, but FE leaves the details of this benefit vague, perhaps intentionally so” (p. 19). And see Reimund Bieringer. “Das Lamm Gottes, das die Sünde der Welt hinwegnimmt (Joh 1,29): Eine kontextorienterte und redaktions-geschichtliche Untersuchung auf dem Hintergrund der Passatradition als Deutung des Todes Jesu im Johannesevangelium,” in The Death of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, ed. G. van Belle, BETL 200 (Leuven: Peeters, 2007), 199–232, who concludes: “Der Ausdruck ੒ ਕȝȞઁȢ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨ bezieht sich nicht unmittelbar auf den Tod Jesu. Die Befähigung zum Į੅ȡࣅȚȞ IJ੽Ȟ ਖȝĮȡIJ઀ĮȞ IJl¾ țંıȝlȣ kommt dem Lamm Gottes in erster Linie als Geistträger und nicht als Gekreuzigter zu” (p. 231). 20 Rightly challenged, for instance, by Frey, “Edler Tod,” 67. Outlining the motifs he finds for interpreting Jesus’ death, noble death (pp. 71–76), effective death (pp. 76–82), vicarious death (pp. 82–90), expiatory death (pp. 90–93), he concludes that the numerically strongest is noble death (p. 93).

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disciples with the Spirit to continue to offer the life and present Jesus as the life-giver.21 Methodologically it was sound to look for repeated patterns and summaries, rather than isolated statements. The evidence clearly showed that time after time Jesus offered a relationship with himself and so with God, which could be portrayed as an offer of eternal life, variously described as life, light, truth, bread, water. While the author employs the envoy motif, which might raise the expectation that the Son as revealer came to reveal something, consistent with the model as a communication bearer, the author’s christology is not focused primarily on cognitive awareness or information giving, but on communicating an offer of life in relationship to God. 22 An element to which I could have given greater attention was the fact that the images used to portray this offer almost certainly derive from the use of such imagery to describe Wisdom/Torah in Judaism, a point well made by Cornelis Bennema in his critical reassessment of my work. 23 For while the term Logos does not recur in the rest of the gospel, the imagery belonging to the tradition which identified Logos/Wisdom/Torah certainly does. Time after time we find Jesus in conversation offering this life and confronting those who reject it. There is also a polemical edge because he declares that only he offers life. With the “I am” statements and the use of “true”, John’s Jesus makes exclusive claims, which include clearly but sensitively setting what he offers in contrast to what Moses offers, such as in 5:39 (“You search the scriptures, because you think that you have eternal life in them; and/but they are testifying about me”) and 6:32 (“It was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but my Father who give the true bread from heaven. The bread of God is the one who comes down from heaven and gives eternal life to the world … I am the bread of life”). Thus while “grace and truth” does not recur, probably because it

21

William R. G. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel: Structure and Issues in Johannine Christology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017). 22 See also Zumstein, “Prolog,” 69. Cornelis Bennema, The Power of Saving Wisdom: An Investigation of Spirit and Wisdom in relation to the Soteriology of the Fourth Gospel, WUNT 2.148 (Tübingen, Mohr Siebeck, 2002), in his extensive treatment of my book, Christology of the Fourth Gospel, misses this aspect when he writes: “The major players in scholarly discussion of Johannine soteriology – Bultmann, Forestell, Loader – all emphasize the importance of knowledge and understanding, i.e., they attribute a cognitive aspect to salvation” (p. 118); similarly: “for both Bultmann and Loader the cognitive aspect of salvation seems rather vacuous, being defined primarily as recognition/identification (of Jesus as the Revealer sent by God)” (p. 33). 23 Bennema, Saving Wisdom. On the use of wisdom motifs in John see also Marianne Meye Thompson, The God of the Gospel of John (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 130–36; and Craig D. Keener, The Gospel of John, 2 vols. (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2003), who notes: “Observers have long noted that virtually everything that John says about the Logos – apart from its incarnation as a particular historical person – Jewish literature said about divine Wisdom” (p. 352).

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derives from typological use of Exodus (Exod 34:6 LXX),24 “truth” certainly does. In terms of soteriology what John offers is not something different in kind from what his dissenting fellow Jews offered in Torah, namely a relationship for life. But it is different in that it claims now to offer in fullness at a higher level of the Spirit what Moses and Torah offered as the gift of God at the level of the flesh.25 John never disparages that gift, but sees it as pointing forward to the fulfilment which renders it redundant except as witness to what has now come. 26 The prologue does not tell the whole story, but its soteriology is thoroughly consistent with what one finds in the gospel. The Son offers life. That is gospel’s ultimate goal: “that you might have life” (20:30–31). One can counter this with the argument that John is engaging in a melting of horizons, so that he never meant that Jesus himself during his ministry could offer life but that this would become possible only after Easter, after his death for sins, and that this was projected back into Jesus’ ministry. But this simply does not work and confuses process (what we know went on) and perception (how the author saw it).27 John does show historical awareness, at least salvation-historical awareness. He does employ the language of what is now and not yet (e.g., 7:39 – Jesus was not yet glorified so the Spirit was not yet given; 12:16 only after Jesus was glorified was the messianic understanding of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem realised). Above all, he does interpret Jesus’ death as bringing about major change but that is not a change which now makes life possible which Jesus could/did not offer before. The change is that, having been rejected, a critical event in the life of the world because it exposed evil and functioned as an act of judgement (12:31; 13:31; 16:11), and been lifted up on the cross, paradoxically Jesus was exalted to heavenly glory and from there could send the Spirit and the disciples to produce the far wider and greater mission of proclaiming this message of life to the world (12:23–24, 32; 14:12–17). It 24 On the allusion to Exod 33:7–34:35 see Beutler, “Johannes-Prolog,” 95–96 and Hartwig Thyen, Das Johannesevangelium, HNT 6 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 104, who rightly observes that the author is also alluding to Ben Sira on seeing God (Sir 43:31) and on Sophia’s tenting among people (Sir 24:8) (p. 107). 25 Beutler, “Johannes-Prolog,” writes: “Das einzig Neue findet sich in dem johanneischen Text in der Tatsache, dass Gott sich in Jesus Christus offenbart hat, dem Logos, der Fleisch wurde” (p. 95). 26 On the contrast in 1:14–18 between what was good and the better which replaces it, the gift in place of the former gift, and the sight which the former could not make possible, see Loader, “Law and Ethics,” 152–53, in this volume chapter 14, pp. 247–48. Theobald, Johannes, writes in relation to John’s soteriology in contrast to that of the synagogues of his context: “Was deren Gravitationszentrum ist – die Tora als Lebensordnung und Weg zum Heil –, das reklamiert der Prolog für Christus und überträgt es auf ihn als die einzige Quelle von ‘Licht’ und ‘Leben’” (p. 142). 27 Bennema, Saving Wisdom, notes in this regard: “The seminal work of Porsch (but also that of Loader) has been seriously neglected” (p. 34).

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remains the same offer of life. Nothing in the elaborate final instructions of Jesus to the disciples suggest that the offer is different in quality from the life already offered by Jesus in his ministry (14:17). The soteriology remains in that sense the same and is thoroughly Jewish in structure. Finally let me reflect on the implications of such a soteriology. In effect, the author has reworked the Jesus tradition with its stories so that it embodies a repeated refrain, variations on a single theme. In a way which parallels his use of OT tradition he thus homogenises diverse Jesus traditions to convey a simple message: that Jesus is the Son who offers life. The effect is both to raise Jesus’ profile to the level of the divine, so that it reflects what is said of the Logos in the prologue’s inclusio namely, that he is șİȩȢ (1:1) and is șİȩȢ of an only kind (1:18), and in a sense to collapse it, so that in effect to respond to Jesus is to respond to God. Jesus all but disappears in the process of elevation to become the face of God, which eventually had to be rationalised in the doctrine of the Trinity. For essentially the issue is the relationship with the God who offers life. John never differentiates the life God offers from the life Jesus offers. The result is a gospel which has universal appeal because, despite its particularist christology, it has in effect marginalised Jesus, as it were, by all but absorbing him into the life of God, coming very close to turning him into a metaphor for God. Paradoxically, the prologue helps us see how in such an elevation of Jesus he effectively disappears and we are in effect presented with a thoroughly Jewish soteriology of life offered in relationship with God but with its Torah now defined in terms of engaging in and expressing a relationship of love through the Son. Established patterns of spirituality are powerful and can exert themselves in new situations even where radical breaks or discontinuities may appear. In the case of the fourth gospel the spirituality of relating to God as life and light, and finding food and water, was apparently deeply engrained in the form of Jewish spirituality in the background of the Johannine community. There, it was expressed in relation to God and God’s word, in particular, the gift of Torah. There has been a radical break and discontinuity based on the high christological claims made by these Jews and others in the community who became Christ-believers to the extent that Jesus was effectively made to usurp the role of Torah and was identified as alone the Word, light and life and bearer of food and water. The original Jewish spirituality remains, however, a controlling factor in this, so that effectively the spirituality does not change but only the way it is mediated. Ironically, this even affects the discontinuous element, the role of Jesus, because he is portrayed less as a human being (never denied) and more as embodiment of God’s Word in a way that then almost merges him into the being of God, analogous to Jewish understanding of Torah/Word/Wisdom. By contrast, other early Christian spiritualities focused less on the person and personal relationship with the Christ and more on saving events, in

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particular, the vicarious death of Jesus or his death as victory over the prince of this world, traditions known to the author of the gospel, but not given the central significance which they have elsewhere, the former, for instance, in Paul. What is saving about Jesus for John is what was saving about Torah, and ultimately about God, namely God’s life and love. The central focus is ultimately not a saving event but a saving person, namely the person of God. The soteriological event for the fourth gospel is the drawing near of God in the person of Jesus, not primarily his death nor primarily some bridging of human and divine in the incarnation nor the dethroning of the prince of this world, but the sheer fact of God. While faith and spirituality looks strikingly similar between John and Judaism, the difference is not only that one finds life in relation to God by following Torah in the one and in the other by following Jesus, but also in the accompanying social reality, which, as van der Watt notes, means belonging to the family of believers in contrast to the synagogue.28 On the ground, such faith, more than mere cognitive, expresses itself in existential engagement and relationship, which, then, is the context for the affirmation that in this way life with God is given, mediated by the Spirit. 29 Soteriology in John is in some sense an inappropriate category. What is saving is ultimately not an event or an achievement but God and God’s life offered through the Word who came to his own and became flesh to make God 28

van der Watt, “Salvation,” speaks of a resocialisation (pp. 123–27). On the similarities differences between what Jews said of Sophia and what John says of Jesus see also Andrew T. Glicksman, “Beyond Sophia: The Sapiential Portrayal of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel and Its Ethical Implications for the Johannine Community,” in Rethinking the Ethics of John: ‘Implicit Ethics’ in the Johannine Writings, ed. Jan G. van der Watt and Ruben Zimmermann, CCNTE 3, WUNT 291 (Tübingen; Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 83–101, who notes that it is never said of Sophia that she becomes incarnate (p. 89), is the truth (p. 90) or life (p. 91) or is universal (p. 91) or is an example (p. 100). At least the first statement is true, although indwelling is a feature. He suggests that “the Johannine community did not merely identify Jesus as Sophia but as more than the Jewish notion of Sophia. In other words, Jesus is the new and improved Sophia” (p. 99). On the expression of faith Glicksman writes: “To obey Jesus’ words and to imitate his actions, insofar as this is possible, would be the ultimate wisdom” (p. 100). Bennema, Saving Wisdom: “John’s soteriology is a variety of Wisdom soteriology, in that John uses the soteriological figure of Wisdom to present Jesus and his salvific mission” (p. 157). On Spirit he writes: “The Spirit creates a saving relationship between the believer and God, i.e., brings a person into such a relationship with the Father and Son, through the mediation of saving wisdom which is itself present in Jesus’ revelatory teaching” (p. 37). On Wisdom as salvific in Judaism see his discussion in 42–99. “The same Spirit and Wisdom that are at work together in creation are also co-operating with one another in salvation” (p. 96). Thompson, God of the Gospel of John, writes: “Because knowledge of God is described in terms not only of seeing but also of hearing God, ‘seeing’ cannot be understood simply as contemplation of God, of a beatific vision simply for its own sake. The emphasis on response and obedience introduced by hearing forbids the reduction of ‘seeing’ to contemplating an object” (p. 143). 29

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and God’s gift of life known. The coming and the going suggest presence and absence, which is then bridged by the coming of the Spirit; for essentially it is the life of God which is offered. There is little by way of revelation except that the Son offered this life, now re-presented in the Spirit. The prologue does not tell the whole story but merely hints at the crisis of rejection and the Son’s vindication to return to the bosom of the Father. That return is neither an exit nor a separate saving act, though the author appears to know and incorporate traditions which reflected such an understanding. It is a climax, a moment of exposure, a revelation of how far that offer of love would go to finish its task and how far hate would go to snuff it out. The spirituality, the focus and structure of faith, remains what it had been in Judaism but the soteriology or better the life now found expression not in synagogue communities but in fellowships of Jesus-believers, and its manifestation of doing God’s will was based not in Torah’s wisdom but in the command to love on the lips of Jesus and life generated which made such love possible. The prologue sets the parameters for this understanding of soteriology but the farewell discourses show us what it looks like in social reality: life with God offered through the Son, now mediated through the Spirit, borne of love and brought to expression in loving community, which in concrete terms included support for survival, especially of the poor. It also had a future dimension: John embraces traditions concerning resurrection (6:39–44), judgement (5:28) and parousia (14:3), as he does those of his death, but ultimately hope is focused not on some future prospect of liberation, let alone Jewish restoration eschatology, but eternal life now in a relationship, whose goal is that, as he returns to the Father, so his own will follow to be one with him where he is (12:26; 13:33; 14:1–3; 17:24). The response of faith to an encounter with the Word (not words), the incarnate Son, is the moment of judgement and the move from death to life, from darkness to light (5:24; 17:3; 1:18).

8. Tensions in Matthean and Johannine Soteriology Viewed in their Jewish Context Soteriology is an area of controversy in relation to both the Gospel according to Matthew and the Gospel according to John, two rather different gospels, but sharing what many would indeed see as a strongly Jewish background. This paper will explore the divergence among scholars concerning soteriology in each before turning to an approach which seeks to move beyond that divergence to an understanding which is rooted in the strongly Jewish spirituality which informs both gospels, though in different ways.

Matthew and the Saving Death of Jesus At first sight Matthew’s Gospel appears to give a very clear answer to the question about soteriology when in 1:21 it has the angel declare: “You shall call his name Jesus; because he will save his people from their sins.” Accordingly, for many interpreters Matthew is thereby pointing forward to the cross as an act of atonement.1 Accordingly, he is doing so also in taking over Mark’s logion about Jesus’ coming to give his life a ransom for many (Matt 20:28; Mark 10:45).2 The early claim of redaction analysis that Matthew had omitted Mark’s description of John’s baptism as a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins and transferred it to the last meal scene confirms this for many.3 Thus 1 So Jack D. Kingsbury, Matthew: Structure, Christology, Kingdom (London: SPCK 1976), 82, 85, 117; John P. Meier, The Vision of Matthew: Christ, Church and Morality in the First Gospel (New York: Paulist, 1979), 143–44, 183–84; John P. Meier, Matthew (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1983), 24, 229, 319; Donald A. Hagner, Matthew, 2 vols., WBC 33A/33B (Dallas: Word, 1993, 95), 1.19; 2.582–83, 773; Boris Repschinski, “‘For He Will Save His People from Their Sins’ (Matthew 1:21): A Christology for Christian Jews,” CBQ 68 (2006): 248–67, 265. 2 Meier, Vision, 184; Meier, Matthew, 319, against, for instance, the claim of Birger Gerhardsson, “Sacrificial Service and Atonement in the Gospel of Matthew,” in Reconciliation and Hope: New Testament Essays on Atonement and Eschatology, ed. Robert Banks (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974), 25–35, that this is not in the context of atonement so refers to the “spiritual service of sacrifice” (p. 25). 3 So Reinhard Hummel, Die Auseinandersetzung zwischen Kirche und Judentum im Matthäusevangelium, BET 33 (Munich: Kaiser, 1966), 101; Meier, Vision, 184; Meier, Matthew, 319.

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Davies and Allison write; “If John had preached a baptism for the forgiveness of sins, Jesus’ baptism would have been all the more troublesome for Matthew than it already is.” 4 Accordingly, to Mark’s account “This is the blood of the covenant poured out for many” (Mark 14:24) Matthew appends: “for the forgiveness of sins” (Matt 26:28). Thus, it is argued, for Matthew, forgiveness of sins is now only through Jesus’ shed blood and so for Matthew the cross as an act of atonement is at the heart of his soteriology. As Nolland puts it, “Matthew clearly intended Jesus’ death to be viewed as a saving event, as the saving event” because “the pouring out of Jesus’ blood in death” is the means of forgiveness of sins” [emphasis original]. 5 This is a strong case.

John and the Saving Death of Jesus We have a similar situation in John’s Gospel, where also in the first chapter John the Baptist declares to onlookers: “Behold the lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world” (1:29). 6 Most see this, too, as pointing forward to Jesus’ death as an act of atonement, and therefore as the hermeneutical clue for interpreting all subsequent references to Jesus’ dying,7 however one 4 William D. Davies and Dale C. Allison. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel According to Saint Matthew, 3 vols. ICC (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1988, 1991, 1997), 1.292; similarly, 1.300–301, 3.474; Robert H. Gundry, “A Responsive Evaluation of the Social History of the Matthean Community in Roman Syria,” in Social History of the Matthean Community: Cross-Disciplinary Approaches, ed. David Balch (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991), 62–67, 65; Robert H. Gundry, Matthew: A Commentary on His Handbook for a Mixed Church Under Persecution, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994), 43; Repschinski, “For He Will Save His People,” 258, 260–61; Boris Repschinski, Nicht aufzulösen sondern zu erfüllen. Das jüdische Gesetz in den synoptischen Jesus Erzählungen, FzB 120 (Würzburg: Echter, 2009), 74; Daniel M. Gurtner, The Torn Veil: Matthew’s Exposition of the Death of Jesus, SNTSMS 139 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 134. 5 John H. Nolland, The Gospel of Matthew: A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), 41. 6 See detailed discussion in William R. G. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel: Structure and Issues in Johannine Christology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017), 136–48. 7 So Udo Schnelle, “Markinische und johanneische Kreuzestheologie,” in The Death of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, BETL 200, ed. G. van Belle (Leuven: Peeters, 2007), 233–58, 244; Rainer Metzner, Das Verständnis der Sünde im Johannesevangelium, WUNT 122 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000), 131; Klaus Scholtissek, “‘Eine grössere Liebe als diese hat niemand, als wenn einer sein Leben hingibt für seine Freunde’ (Joh 15,13): Die hellenistische Freundschaftsethik und das Johannesevangelium,” in Kontexte des Johannesevangeliums: Das vierte Evangelium in religions- und traditionsgeschichtlicher Perspektive, ed. J. Frey and U. Schnelle, WUNT 175, (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 413–39, 434; John A. Dennis, “Jesus’ Death in John’s Gospel: A Survey of Research from Bultmann to the Present with Special Reference to the Johannine Hyper-texts,” CBR 4 (2006): 331–63,

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understands the imagery of lamb, an issue of contention itself. John the Baptist, accordingly, has nothing to do with forgiveness of sin. 8 That role is to be fulfilled by Jesus, it is argued, through his death on the cross as the lamb of God. Jesus’ last words on the cross, “It is finished” (19:30), meant, accordingly, that the act of taking away sin had been achieved9 or, strictly speaking was about to be achieved in his death which immediately follows, and reflected for some in the symbolism of the flow of water and blood from his side (19:34). 10 Much can be cited in support of these conclusions, including key texts found in the body of the Gospel. 11 One is 6:51c, “The bread which I give is my flesh for the life of the world,” coming in the context of what are most likely allusions to eucharistic tradition about eating the flesh of the Son of Man and drinking his blood. The shepherd discourse has Jesus speak of laying down his life for the sheep (10:11, 15, 17, 18). John 15 has Jesus speak of laying down his life for his friends. The high priest’s rationale for Jesus’ execution to rescue the nation from Roman suppression becomes an inspired allusion to Jesus’ saving death for all (11:50–52; 18:14). The gift of eternal life promised after the lifting up of the Son of Man in 3:14–15 and his death as God’s act of giving up his Son in love so that all who believe in him may have eternal life seem indeed to underline the centrality of the cross as the act which makes salvation and eternal life possible according to John, just as the Baptist had announced. Pressed to its logical conclusion, such an interpretation implies that only after Jesus’ death was salvation possible and eternal life available. Any 352–53; Jörg Frey, “Die ‘theologia crucifixi’ des Johannevangeliums,” in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten. Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. J. Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 485–554, 517, 519, 553; Jörg Frey, “Edler Tod – wirksamer Tod – stellvertretender Tod – heilschaffender Tod: Zur narrativen und theologischen Deutung des Todes Jesu im Johannesevangelium,” in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten. Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, WUNT 307, ed. J. Schlegel (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 555–84, 578, 582; M. Turner, “Atonement and the Death of Jesus in John – Some Questions to Bultmann and Forestell,” EvQ 62 (1990): 99–122, 121–22; Theophil E. Müller, Das Heilsgeschehen im Johannesevangelium (Zurich: Gotthelf, 1966), 112–13, 130–31, 134–35. 8 Reimund Bieringer, “Das Lamm Gottes, das die Sünde der Welt hinwegnimmt (Joh 1,29): Eine kontextorientierte und redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung auf dem Hintergrund der Passatradition als Deutung des Todes Jesu im Johannesevangelium,” in The Death of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, ed. G. van Belle, BETL 200 (Leuven: Peeters, 2007), 199–232, 224; Michael E. Theobald, Das Evangelium nach Johannes. Kapitel 1 – 12 (Regensburg: Pustet 2009), 170. 9 Schnelle, “Kreuzestheologie,” 242–55; Müller, Heilsgeschehen, 34, 50, 74, 130–31; Wilhelm Thüsing, Die Erhöhung und Verherrlichung Jesu im Johannesevangelium, 3rd ed., NTAbh 21 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1979), 68–69, 100. 10 Thüsing, Erhöhung, 161, 164, 324; cf. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 185–87. 11 Discussed in detail in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 169–80.

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allusions to Jesus’ bringing life during his ministry are accordingly to be read as proleptic. Thus Frey writes: Nach johanneischer Auffassung ist der wahre Gottesdienst ebenso wie die geistliche Totenerweckung allein durch Christus und in seiner Gegenwart möglich. Insofern Johannes die Heilswirklichkeit der nachösterlichen Zeit proleptisch bereits im Verlauf des Werkens Jesu zur Darstellung bringt, hat das kai nun estin auch in der Sprechperspektive des irdischen Jesu seine Berechtigung.12

Thompson explains: The actual reception of life seems to be deferred until after Jesus’ death. Consequently when Jesus speaks of giving life (e.g., 3:5–8; 6:63), he speaks proleptically of a situation that will obtain only after his death … What also needs to be emphasized is that what happens after Jesus’ death also happens because of Jesus’ death, whether that be the conferring of life or the giving of the Spirit. (emphasis original) 13

Accordingly, it is argued, the author could not have meant that Jesus gave life before he had achieved the basis for it by his atoning death. This, too, is a strong case.

Matthew and the Saving Life of Jesus If we return to Matthew, the notion that there, too, salvation, or at least forgiveness of sins, becomes possible only after Jesus’ death runs into some difficulty when Matthew’s narrative of Jesus’ ministry is taken into account. Matthew takes over Mark’s report of the healing of the paralytic, which includes a declaration of forgiveness of sins (Matt 9:2–8; cf. Mark 2:1–12). Matthew’s additional comment that the authority to declare forgiveness would be given to human beings (9:8) clearly points beyond Jesus’ death but the declaration and its effect also clearly show that Jesus, the Son of Man, was already authorised to forgive sins during his ministry – before his death. 14 This 12 Jörg Frey, Die johanneische Eschatologie I – III, WUNT 96, 110, 117 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997–2000), 2. 282; similarly, Ernst Haenchen, Johannesevangelium. Ein Kommentar, ed. U. Busse (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1980), 109; E. Schillebeeckx, Christ: The Christian Experience in the Modern World (London: SCM, 1980), 405–406, 410–11; Rudolf Schnackenburg, Das Johannesevangelium. 2. Teil, 2nd ed., HTK 4.2 (Freiburg: Herder, 1977), 217; but cf. Rudolf Schnackenburg, “Johannesevangelium als hermeneutische Frage,” NTS 13 (1967): 197–210, 208. 13 Marianne Meye Thompson, The God of the Gospel of John (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 178. 14 Daniel J. Harrington, The Gospel of Matthew, SP 1 (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1991), 121–23; Richard T. France, The Gospel of Matthew, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 347, 350–51; Martin Hasitschka, “Matthew and Hebrews,” in Matthew and His Christian Contemporaries, ed. David C. Sim and Boris Repschinski, LNTS 333 (London:

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can hardly be dismissed as does Meier, who argues that Jesus’ healing of the paralytic in Matthew (9:2–8) is christological not soteriological in nature as it focuses on Jesus’ authority, not on forgiveness of sins itself.15 The Sermon on the Mount includes the Lord’s Prayer and the associated saying about forgiving and being forgiven. Nothing suggests that this could apply only after Jesus’ death or is to be dismissed as being concerned with judgement and reconciliation rather than forgiveness.16 The argument based on omission of “for the forgiveness of sins” and its addition to the Last Meal narrative is also not as cogent as it might seem. For in place of Mark’s words, “preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins,” Matthew reads: “saying, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand’” (3:2). Matthew rewrote Mark’s account of John, importing Mark’s summary of Jesus’ proclamation (Mark 1:15) into it as now also a summary of John’s preaching, identical to the summary of Jesus’ message. He retains however the detail that people came to be baptised by John, confessing their sins (3:6). The most natural reading of Matthew’s account is surely not that they confessed their sins without any prospect of forgiveness until after Jesus’ death, but that it accompanied what the washing and immersion symbolised in that act.17 The call to repentance, identically expressed by both John and Jesus, surely promised forgiveness of sins there and then. A contemporary Jew would hardly have understood otherwise. If one moves beyond forgiveness of sins to obtaining eternal life, then it is incontrovertible that Matthew portrays Jesus as declaring that one inherits eternal life by keeping the commandments, the Torah, every stroke, as interpreted by Jesus (5:18–20; 19:16–22).18 This is a promise not just for the future, a key theme associated with judgement in all five main discourses,19 but T&T Clark, 2008), 87–103, 92; Davies and Allison, Matthew, 3.100, 474–75; Nolland, John, 294, 504–506, 753–62, 1082; Petri Luomanen, Entering the Kingdom of Heaven: A Study on the Structure of Matthew’s View of Salvation, WUNT 2.101 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1998), 222, 224–27, 228–30; Warren Carter, Matthew and the Margins: A Socio-Political and Religious Reading, BLS (Maryknoll: Orbis, 2000), 99, 533; Warren Carter, Matthew: Storyteller, Interpreter, Evangelist, rev. ed. (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2004), 115, 142–43, 147, 177. 15 Meier, Matthew, 91; similarly, Hagner, Matthew, 1.234; Gundry, Matthew, 154–80. 16 Harrington, Matthew, 94–95, 122, 125, 270; cf. Davies and Allison, Matthew, 1.616– 17; 2.796–99. 17 So Hagner, Matthew, 47; Harrington, Matthew, 52, 122–25; Ulrich Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus. Mt 1–7, 2nd ed. EKK 1/1 (Zurich: Benziger; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2002), 205; Nolland, Matthew, 1081 n. 135. Cf. Davies and Allison, Matthew, 1.300–301 Repschinski, Nicht aufzulösen, 74. 18 Harrington, Matthew, 281; Daniel J. Harrington, “The Rich Young Man in Mt 19, 16– 22: Another Way to God for Jews?” in Four Gospels: Festschrift Frans Neirynck, ed. Frans van Segbroeck et al. (Leuven: Peeters,1992), 1425–32, 1431–32. 19 Luz, Matthäus, 2.37.

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also for the present and by implication already during Jesus’ ministry. In addition, Jesus’ saving people from their sins clearly must include aspects of Jesus’ ministry of healing 20–before his death. Harrington sees Jesus’ saving power also in the stilling of the storm.21 As Saldarini puts it, Jesus saves his people “by his teaching and healing and pre-eminently by his death, which leads to his resurrection (chaps. 26–28) and the ultimate vindication of the just at the final judgment (25:31–46).”22 The case therefore for claiming that in Matthew Jesus brings forgiveness of sins already during his ministry is also strong. It is therefore not surprising that some identify a major tension in Matthew’s soteriology: between statements which suggest that Jesus’ death achieved forgiveness of sins, salvation and those which suggest that he already offered this in his life; some seek some way to reconcile the two, others simply ignore the issue. To this we shall return, but first let us observe the similar situation in John.

John and the Saving Life and Person of Jesus The Fourth Gospel portrays Jesus as the Word made flesh who in his person offers life. Differently from Matthew, who make Jesus Torah’s champion, John portrays God’s gift of Torah as foreshadowing the coming of an even greater gift, namely the coming of the Messiah, who in John’s terms is none other than God’s Son, eternally with God from the beginning. 23 What had been images of Torah, including Word, Wisdom, water, bread, light, life, are now transferred to Jesus. The temple and its feasts point to and are fulfilled and superseded – I think that is what John means – by a new temple, in whom is the water of life, the true manna, the true light and life, and who is the true vine.24 For all the statements which speak of the gift of eternal life in the future–and they are

20

Meier, Matthew, 85–86, 91; Harrington, Matthew, 116–17, 287. Harrington, Matthew, 123. 22 Anthony J. Saldarini, Matthew’s Christian-Jewish Community (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994), 166; similarly, Graham N. Stanton, A Gospel for a New People: Studies in Matthew (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1992), 376; Graham N. Stanton, “Salvation Proclaimed: X. Matthew 11:28–30: Comfortable Words?” ExpTim 94 (1982): 3–8; Donald Senior, The Gospel of Matthew, IBT (Nashville: Abingdon, 1997), 89, 114. 23 See detailed discussion in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 282–303, 321–22, 443–52. 24 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 443–52; William R. G. Loader, “The Law and Ethics in John,” in Rethinking the Ethics of John. “Implicit Ethics” in the Johannine Writings, ed. Jan G. van der Watt and Ruben Zimmermann, CNNTE 3, WUNT 291 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 143–58, chapter 14 in this volume. 21

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there in John, though not many (3:14–15; 6:27, 51–58; 7:38–39)25 – there are many more which, consistent with the logic of John’s Christology, portray Jesus in his person as offering life already during his ministry.26 While one might cite the significance of John the Baptist’s statement about the lamb as coming so early in the Gospel and allegedly defining how the Gospel should be read, this is even more so with the prologue.27 Furthermore, whereas the last of the few references to Jesus’ vicarious death comes in chapter 11, with possibly one in 15:13, the notion of salvation being in the person of Jesus and what he gave in his ministry dominates the final chapters, not least Jesus’ final prayer. Sanctification in relation to Jesus in 10:36 and 17:19 and to the disciples in 17:17–18 is about setting people apart in a state of holiness for some special task or action. The special task or action need not be cultic, or have to do with sacrifice, and ਖȖȚ੺ȗȦ is not sacrificial in the LXX.28 Furthermore, “It is finished” (19:30) connects intratextually not with references to vicarious death but with references to finishing the work he had been given to do during his ministry, to make the Father known (4:34; 17:4; 13:1).29 Some have, of course, pushed the logic of this position to the extent that for John Jesus’ death became simply the point of exit, his revealing work having been done.30 That, of course, will not do, as many have pointed out. For John 25

Cf. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 190–93; Martinus C. de Boer, Johannine Perspectives on the Death of Jesus, CBET 17 (Kampen: Pharos, 1996), 103. 26 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 192–93. 27 William R. G. Loader, “The Significance of the Prologue for Understanding John’s Soteriology,” in The Prologue of the Gospel of John: Its Literary, Theological, and Philosophical Contexts. Papers read at the Colloquium Ioanneum 2013, ed. Jan G. van der Watt, R. Alan Culpepper, and Udo Schnelle, WUNT 359 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 45–55, chapter 7 in this volume. 28 I. de la Potterie, La Vérité dans Saint Jean, 2 vols., AnBib 73/74 (Rome: BIP, 1977), 761–62; Jacob Chanikuzhy, Jesus, the Eschatological Temple: An Exegetical Study of Jn 2,13–22 in the Light of the Pre-70 C.E.: Eschatological Temple Hopes and the Synoptic Temple Action, CBET 58 (Leuven: Peeters, 2012), 382; Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 181–83; cf. Rudolf Bultmann, Das Evangelium des Johannes, KEKNT (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1968), 391; Rudolf Bultmann, Theologie des Neuen Testaments (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1977), 407; George R. Beasley-Murray, John, 2nd ed., WBC 36 (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1999), 301. 29 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 187–90. 30 Ernst Käsemann, Jesu Letzter Wille nach Johannes 17, 3rd ed. (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1971), 23, 49 n. 53, 124, 135; Michael Lattke, Einheit im Wort, SANT 41 (Munich: Kösel, 1975), 142; Ulrich B. Müller, “Die Bedeutung des Kreuzestodes im Johannesevangelium” KD 21 (1975): 49–715, 54, 65, 68; Mark Appold, The Oneness Motif in the Fourth Gospel, WUNT 2.1 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1976), 52, 103, 123, 135; Jürgen Becker, Das Evangelium des Johannes, ÖTK 4.1/2 (Gütersloh: Mohn 1979/1981), 406–407; Wolfgang Langbrandtner, Weltferner Gott oder Gott der Liebe, BET 6 (Frankfurt: Peter Lang 1977), 97.

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depicts the “hour,” the death, with typical irony as both a lifting up on a cross and lifting up to God, as glorification, which has to include the total event reaching its climax in his returning to the glory of the Father, as his ascension, and as his return to the Father.31 This event complex clearly marks not just the end (“Ende”) but the turning point (“Wende”),32 especially as this is enunciated in the last discourses, because it makes possible the sending of the Spirit to empower the disciples for the mission of offering eternal life to all in his name and so to do greater works than Jesus himself (14:12–17). It is also the event which exposes both Jesus’ vindication and also the world’s sin, in that sense disempowering the world’s ruler, judgement (16:8–11; 12:31; 14:30; 16:33). 33 As I have noted elsewhere, It is a mark of the extent to which expiatory and vicarious death and its effects are not central that nowhere in the accounts of the passion, indeed from chapter 12 onwards, do we find any reference to what Jesus’ death achieved expressed in those terms. The only explanation, significantly, relates to the judgment of the ruler of this world (12:31; 14:30; 16:11), a moment of realised eschatology typical of the author, so that what was expected at the end of time has now happened in Jesus’ death.34

It is thus possible to give a coherent account of John’s soteriology on the basis of its depiction of both Jesus’ ministry and his death as expressions of his offering life and love to the end (13:1–2). “In him was life” (1:4); in his person and so in encounter with him, already during his ministry. One should not confuse our historical awareness that such beliefs were developed primarily through the post-Easter period with what the author apparently would have believed and articulated.35 Onuki speaks of a paradox that saving knowledge 31

Discussion in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 213–81. Josef Blank, Krisis. Untersuchungen zur johanneischen Christologie und Eschatologie (Freiburg: Lambertus, 1962), 282; cf. also Bultmann, Johannes, 330. 33 Cf. Ulrich B. Müller, Die Menschwerdung des Gottessohnes. Frühchristliche Inkarnationsvorstellungen und die Anfänge des Doketismus, SBS 140 (Stuttgart: KBW, 1990), 76; D. Rusam, “Das ‘Lamm Gottes’ (Joh 1,29.36) und die Deutung des Todes Jesu im Johannesevangelium,” BZ 49 (2005): 60–80, 80; John A. Dennis, Jesus’ Death and the Gathering of True Israel: The Johannine Appropriation of Restoration Theology in the Light of John 11.47–52, WUNT 2.217 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 208; Dennis, “Jesus’ Death,” 677–92; Judith Kovacs, “‘Now Shall the Ruler of this World be Driven Out’: Jesus’ Death as Cosmic Battle in John 12:20–26,” JBL 114 (1995): 227–47; John Ashton, “Intimations of Apocalyptic: Looking Back and Looking Forward,” in John’s Gospel and Intimations of Apocalyptic, ed. C. H. Williams and C. Rowland (London: T&T Clark, 2013), 3–35, 13. 34 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 199. 35 Günther Bornkamm, “Zur Interpretation des Johannesevangeliums,” in Günther Bornkamm, Geschichte und Glaube. Erster Teil. Gesammelte Aufsätze, Band III (Munich: Kaiser, 1968), 104–21, 114; Frey, “theologia crucifixi,” 506; Jörg Frey, “‘dass sie meine Herrlichkeit schauen’ (Joh 17,24). Zu Hintergrund, Sinn und Funktion der johanneischen Rede von der įંȟĮ Jesu,” in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten. Studien zu den 32

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of Christ’s divinity is possible only after his resurrection and yet is mediated by his earthly ministry,36 but this, like many of the approaches mentioned, confuses the process of growth of awareness in history (our insights into how Christology developed) with the evangelist’s understanding that in the person of the earthly Jesus, life was already offered. Frey notes the merging of horizons in the last discourses, and also in John 3:11 and 9:4a,37 but wrongly denies the application of “now is” to the pre-Easter earthly Jesus except proleptically.38 Ashton writes: “In spite of an occasional wobble the evangelist makes an absolute principle of his distinction between all that transpired in Jesus’ lifetime–both words and actions–and the quite different situation after his death and resurrection.”39 Similarly Hurtado: “John distinctively emphasises the contrast between the cognitive possibilities in the preresurrection and post-resurrection situations, indicating more explicitly than in the Synoptic Gospels, that in his earthly ministry Jesus did not reveal all that came later to be known of his divine significance.”40 The author indeed shows awareness of historical development in the disciples’ recognition of who Jesus was and how biblical texts applied to him (2:22; 7:39; 12:16), but what they came to realise was what he actually was (14:26; cf. also 15:26; 16:12–15), not what he only became after Easter and the Spirit finally enabled them to see this and enabled the author to write his Gospel portraying Jesus as from the beginning the source of life and light and salvation in his person, thus already during his ministry, and not just when they came fully to realise it after Easter. This case is surely also strong, indeed, compelling.

Saving Death and Saving Person in John? What then does one do with 1:29, and the references to Jesus’ laying down his life? We cannot discuss the complex issues surrounding 1:29 in detail here. As Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. J. Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 639–62, 646. 36 Takashi Onuki, Gemeinde und Welt im Johannesevangelium, WMANT 56 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1984), 206. 37 Frey, Eschatologie, 3.254–56, 266, 268, 281. 38 Frey, Eschatologie, 3.281; cf. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 198. 39 John Ashton, The Gospel of John and Christian Origins (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2014), 41. 40 Larry W. Hurtado, “Remembering and Revelation: The Historic and Glorified Jesus in the Gospel of John,” in Israel’s God and Rebecca’s children: Christology and Community in Early Judaism and Christianity: Essays in Honor of Larry W. Hurtado and Alan F. Segal, ed. D. B. Capes, A. D. DeConick, H. K. Bond, and T. A. Miller (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2007), 195–214, 212.

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Frey notes, it is not possible to reach a definite conclusion concerning its background.41 Some connect the lamb image to the strongly messianic motifs in the context, and so see it as depicting Jesus’ removal of sin through his ministry, a messianic role being to remove sin. Thus, Painter writes: “The best we can do with this text is to suggest that it refers to Jesus as the messianic deliverer of his people, indeed, of the world. Nevertheless, the text raises a question that it does not answer. How does the Lamb of God take away the sin of the world?” 42 As Leung, notes, “It is sufficient to note that despite the limited pre-Christian evidence of the use of ‘lamb’ as a messianic title, the strong messianic tenor surrounding the Baptist’s testimonies in John 1:29 and 1:36 suggest that these testimonies most likely pertain to Jewish messianic hopes.”43 Reading “who takes away the sin of the world” in the light of the context is less clear except that in the immediate context it stands in parallel to baptising with the Spirit.44 Others note problems in reading the lamb imagery as vicarious or atoning. The Passover lamb is frequently proposed as background.45 It is not however a sacrifice for sins,46 nor usually was the daily sacrifice.47 Not lambs but goats bear sins on Atonement Day. 48 41

Frey, “theologia crucifixi,” 525, 527. John Painter, “Sacrifice and Atonement in the Gospel of John,” in Israel und seine Heilstraditionen im Johannesevangelium. Festgabe für Johannes Beutler SJ zum 70. Geburtstag, ed. M. Labahn, K. Scholtissek, and A. Strotmann (Paderborn: Schöningh, 2004), 287–313, 293; see also Larry W. Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 359. 43 Mavis M. Leung, The Kingship-Cross Interplay in the Gospel of John: Jesus’ Death as Corroboration of His Royal Messiahship (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2011), 53. 44 So Bieringer, “Lamm Gottes,” 218; Rusam, Lamm Gottes, 75. 45 Stanley E. Porter, John, His Gospel, and Jesus: In Pursuit of the Johannine Voice (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015), 207–11; Beasley-Murray, John, 24–25; Bultmann, Johannes, 66–67; Bultmann, Theologie, 406. 46 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 158–66; Ferdinand Hahn, Theologie des Neuen Testaments. 2 Bände (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 1.633; John Ashton, Understanding the Fourth Gospel, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 80, 163; Ashton, Gospel of John, 143; Frey, “theologia crucifixi,” 519, 527; Frey, “Edler Tod,” 582; Thomas Knöppler, Die theologia crucis des Johannesevangeliums. Das Verständnis des Todes Jesu im Rahmen der johanneischen Inkarnations- und Erhöhungschristologie, WMANT 69 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag 1994), 86–89; Andrew T. Lincoln, The Gospel According to Saint John, BNTC 4 (London: Continuum, 2005), 113; H.-U. Weidemann, Der Tod Jesu im Johannesevangelium. Die erste Abschiedsrede als Schlüsseltext für den Passions- und Osterbericht, BZNW 122 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004), 423; Metzner, Verständnis der Sünde, 22–23, 132–37. 47 Painter, “Sacrifice and Atonement,”, 292; Frey, “theologia crucifixi,” 527. 48 Cf. Ulrich Busse, “Theologie oder Christologie im Johannesprolog?” in Studies in the Gospel of John and Its Christology: Festschrift Gilbert van Belle, ed. J. Verheyden, G. van Oyen, M. Labahn and R. Bieringer, BETL 265 (Leuven: Peeters, 2014), 1–36, 30–31; 42

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An allusion to suffering like a vulnerable lamb in Isaiah 53 need not be vicarious. Given the allusion to Isa 42:1 in the tradition, the use of the “lamb” image to convey vulnerability may well have evoked the allusion to the vulnerability of God’s servant as a “lamb” (ਕȝȞંȢ) in Isa 53:7. The use of Isa 53:7 to convey suffering without any explicit reference to vicariousness is present elsewhere (Acts 8:32), so that it should not be automatically assumed here.49 It could, of course, be so.50 The story of Isaac’s offering speaks of a ram not a lamb. 51 The case for allusion to Jesus’ death as atoning in 1:29 is at least not as straightforward as Christian scholars steeped in their own traditions are wont to assume. Frey argues conversely that dogmatic concerns have led others to deny such motifs play a role in John.52 One of the major contribution of Bieringer’s study of 1:29 is that he insists that it be read in its literary and traditiohistorical context.53 I have argued that one must read 1:29 in the light of its context from the prologue onwards. 54 On the other hand any discussion must take into account not only traditional Jewish imagery, as if that is the only influence, as sometimes appears to occur, but also the elaboration of such imagery in Christian Jewish contexts, such as is reflected in the, in my opinion, slightly later 1 John, an observation well made by Frey 55 We must therefore take into account the inevitable merging of Dorothy A. Lee, “Paschal Imagery in the Gospel of John: A Narrative and Symbolic Reading,” Pacifica 24 (2011): 13–28, 16–17; Craig S. Keener, The Gospel of John. A Commentary. 2 vols. (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2005), 456. 49 Felix Porsch, Pneuma und Wort, FrankTS 16 (Frankfurt: Knecht, 1974), 40–42; Joachim Jeremias, “ʌĮ૙Ȣ șİȠ૨,” TDNT 5 (1968), 654–717, 702; Gary M. Burge, The Anointed Community: The Holy Spirit in the Johannine Tradition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987), 61. 50 So C. K. Barrett, The Gospel According to St. John, 2nd ed. (London: SPCK, 1978), 176; Rudolf Schnackenburg, The Gospel According to John, Vol. 1 (London: Burns & Oates, 1968), 300; Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John, 2 vols., AB 29/29A (New York: Doubleday 1966), 61–63; Beasley-Murray, John, 24–25; Hahn, Theologie, 1.633; Christian Dietzfelbinger, Das Evangelium nach Johannes, 2 vols., 2nd ed. (Zurich: TVZ, 2004), 1.53; Udo Schnelle, Das Evangelium nach Johannes, THNT 4 (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1998), 49–50; Lincoln, John, 113. See also the discussion in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 166–68. 51 Cf. Geza Vermes, Scripture and Tradition in Judaism (Leiden: Brill, 1961), 223–24; R. Le Déaut, La nuit pascale, AnBib 22 (Rome: BIP, 1963), 158; Hartwig Thyen, Das Johannesevangelium, HNT 6 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 119–23; Mary L. Coloe, God Dwells with Us: Temple Symbolism in the Fourth Gospel (Collegeville: Liturgical, 2001), 191–92. 52 Frey, “Edler Tod,” 581–82; see also Frey, “theologia crucifixi,” 492–96. 53 Bieringer, “Lamm Gottes.” 54 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 148–68; see also Rusam, Lamm Gottes, 72. 55 Jörg Frey, “Das vierte Evangelium auf dem Hintergrund der älteren Evangelientradition. Zum Problem Johannes und die Synoptiker,” in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten.

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metaphors brought about by the fact that they are all seeking to interpret the same event. Thus Bauckham most recently assumes an allusion which associates both Isaiah 53 and the Passover lamb together with Isaac typology within Christian tradition.56 Similarly, dismissing 1:29 or the other allusions to vicarious death in John as relics of tradition57 will also not do, nor do suggestions that these are either the author’s late additions by the author or a redactor take us further, especially if our concern is with the received text.58 Ashton, for instance, sees 1:29 as having been part of a signs gospel where it had no relation to Jesus’ death and suggests that the words about taking away sin are “a later addition” on the basis of 1 John 3:5.59 de Boer observes that both 3:14–15 and 6:27, 53, 62 “stand awkwardly in their immediate literary context,”60 and writes that “6:51c–56, along with 6:27 and 6:62, may with some confidence be assessed as secondary elaboration (Jn III) of the Bread of Life discourse.”61 Such developments are certainly possible but our concern is with the received text. It is better with Lindars to recognise that “John also carries forward the traditional interpretation of Jesus’ death as an atonement sacrifice which belongs to earliest Christianity (cf. 1 Cor. 15.3), and which is accepted in the Johannine church (1 John 2.2).” 62 Frey prefers to speak of “relecture,” a category developed by Zumstein and Dettwiler. 63 While 10:17 somewhat undermines the emphasis on vicarious death by having Jesus declare that the reason why he laid down his life was to be able to take it up again, and 15:13 may just be about loving even to the point of death, the case for claiming that the author knows and affirms the belief that Jesus’ death was vicarious, possibly also as sacrificial in a cultic sense, is not to be dismissed in the interests of avoiding the tension which such texts appear to present when set alongside others which declare the gift of life as something Jesus gave already during his ministry. At the same time, one should

Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. J. Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 286; Frey, “theologia crucifixi,” 530, 522, 530; Frey, “Edler Tod,” 581; see also Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 194–202. 56 Richard Bauckham, Gospel of Glory (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2015), 156–57. 57 Käsemann, Letzter Wille, 23 n. 7; Haenchen, Johannesevangelium, 166–67; Müller, “Bedeutung des Kreuzestodes,” 63; J. Terence Forestell, The Word of the Cross, AnBib 57 (Rome: BIP, 1974), 15–16. 58 Cf. Becker, Johannes, 91–92; Theobald, Johannes, 65. 59 Ashton, Understanding the Fourth Gospel 162, similarly, p. 466. 60 de Boer, Perspectives, 103. 61 de Boer, Perspectives, 226. 62 Barnabas Lindars, John, New Testament Guides (Sheffield: JSOT Press, 1990), 82; see also Müller, Menschwerdung, 73; R. Alan Culpepper, The Anatomy of the Fourth Gospel (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1983), 87–88. 63 Frey, “theologia crucifixi,” 499–500.

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acknowledge that the relative weighting given to such statements within the text. Thus de Boer observes that “the idea that Jesus’ death is being regarded as a blood sacrifice expiating sins is not clearly discernible in 1:29 and has very little support (in the remainder of the Gospel, including in ch. 19).” 64 And similarly, van der Watt writes: “Although John does not emphasize or focus on substitution or sacrifice, there are some insinuations in that direction. However, these references do not come into focus at all. They are secondary to the revelatory function of the cross events.”65 Smith observes that it is “surprising that such an understanding and interpretation of Jesus’ death does not find a larger place in the Gospel of John. Yet several passages in the Gospel clearly allude to the primitive Christian interpretation of Jesus’ death as a vicarious sacrifice.” 66

Beyond the Impasse We appear then in both gospels to have evidence which many sense as contrary or inconsistent and which, when not ignored, has led to various attempts to diffuse the tension by explaining away the evidence for one or the other side of the argument. It is interesting that in his discussion of soteriology in John Talbert ignores this tension by discussing soteriology almost entirely on the basis of enabling indwelling as reflected in John 15:1–17, not once addressing 15:13. Similarly his chapter in the same volume, “Indicative and Imperative in Matthean Soteriology,” cites neither 1:21 nor 26:28.67 By contrast the review of research on Jesus’ death by Dennis exposes the current impasse. 68 Frey’s discussion of the various ways in which the author depicts the significance of Jesus’ death as seen from a post-Easter perspective cautions

64 de Boer, Perspectives, 280, similarly, p. 234; Francis J. Moloney, The Gospel of John, SP 4 (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1998), 59. 65 Jan G. van der Watt, “Salvation in the Gospel According to John,” in Salvation in the New Testament. Perspectives on Soteriology, ed. J. G. van der Watt, NovTSup 121 (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 101–31, 116; so also David Rensberger, “The Messiah Who Has Come into the World: The Message of the Gospel of John,” in Jesus in Johannine Tradition, ed. R. Fortna and T. Thatcher (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001), 15–24, 19; Rudolf Schnackenburg, Die Person Jesu Christi im Spiegel der vier Evangelien, HThKS 4 (Freiburg: Herder, 1993), 314–15. 66 D. Moody Smith, The Theology of the Gospel of John, New Testament Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 116. 67 Charles H. Talbert, “The Fourth Gospel’s Soteriology between New Birth and Resurrection,” in Getting “Saved”: the Whole Story of Salvation in the New Testament, ed. Charles H. Talbert and Jason A. Whitlark (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011), 95–118, 176– 91. 68 Dennis, “Jesus’ Death.”

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against making any single motif the key to unlock all the others69 and clearly identifies the tension: Wird dem Tod Jesu bei Johannes eine eigenstständige Heilsbedeuting beigemessen oder gründet das Heil nach johanneischer Auffassung wesentlich oder primär in einem anderen Akt als in dem Akt seines Sterbens im Ostergeschehen oder bereits in seiner Sendung bzw. seiner Menschwerdung?” (emphasis original). 70

Posing the question in terms of Akt already, however, distorts the issue in favour of his resolution focussing on the cross. The alternatives are not so much two events, but an event/transaction and a person who in himself brings salvation because of who he is. One can seek to dissolve the tension by explaining away some of the data. For instance, one can explain away allusions to expiatory or vicarious death, or minimizing their significance, or denying them altogether, a response documented already by such scholars as Stevens.71 On the other hand, one can argue that once one finds a single indication that the author viewed Jesus’ death as expiatory or vicarious, then this understanding must for the hearer fill out the substance of all allusions to Jesus’ death.72 As an argument this does not hold, if it is used to claim that expiatory or vicarious death is the centre of the author’s soteriology, and certainly not if it is used to dismiss the offer of life which the Son brings in his ministry. It is, nevertheless, a valid observation, to the extent that once we can establish it as one way that the author (and potentially his hearers) saw Jesus’ death, then it should at least be taken into account in considering other texts. Dennis goes further arguing that “the burden of proof, I believe, remains squarely on those who argue that Jesus’ death in John’s Gospel has nothing to do with Jewish atonement theology or the elimination of sin.”73 However, one resolves the tension in relation to forgiveness of sins, it is clear that the author sees the cross as at least an act of exposure and judgement in relation to the ruler of this world. That is not inconsistent with an understanding of forgiveness of sins being already implied in the offer of life through Jesus already during his ministry. In the final brief section of this paper I want to suggest that a resolution of this tension lies not in playing one side of the argument off against the other nor in pressing the logic of some statements to the exclusion of others. 74 Rather, I believe that it is important to take into account the strongly Jewish 69

Frey, “Edler Tod,” 561. Frey, “theologia crucifixi,” 492. 71 George B. Stevens, The Theology of the New Testament (Edinburgh: Clark, 1889), 224– 33, and E. F. Scott, The Fourth Gospel. Its Purpose and Theology (Edinburgh: Clark, 1908), 207–12. 72 So Frey, “Edler Tod,” 576. 73 Dennis, “Jesus’ Death,” 353. 74 See also Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 200–203. 70

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background of both documents, Matthew, whose author still wants to hold a place within the Jewish community despite the pain of conflict and failure, and John, having made its own way with pain and conflict because of its extreme christological claims but, with all that behind it, still needing to justify itself in largely Jewish terms. If we begin with forgiveness of sins, in the range of Jewish communities of the time, one could assume that God forgave sins. That might be in response to actions which included sacrifice and prayer, or just prayer, or one’s own death, or the death of another, the latter reflected already in Isaiah 53, but also in the retelling of the Maccabean martyrs. We do not find evidence of attempts to play these off against each other. At most we find controversy surrounding John the Baptist’s novel approach but not as an issue of law. At the level of forgiveness, it would have been explicable that believers in Matthew’s community, for instance, could see Jesus’ death as for the forgiveness of sins without having to deny other means of forgiveness. I suggest that the same is true of John’s Gospel. In neither gospel do we find the argument that Jesus’ death thereby had to mean the end of all other sacrificial offerings, such as we find in Hebrews, or all other means of forgiveness. The latter was certainly an option, but not, I suggest, one that Matthew took. In John, Jesus replaces the temple, but even so, nowhere do we find Jesus’ death used against all other means of forgiveness. In the broader sense, in neither gospel do we exhaust the meaning of salvation by talking about forgiveness of sins. Sin is always important but in the forms of Judaism which we know from the time the ongoing relationship of faithfulness and obedience toward God expressed in the keeping of Torah is much more important. Soteriology is in that sense theocentric and this is why one might even consider replacing the word soteriology with spirituality. This is also true in Matthew: salvation, which in Matthew certainly has a strong future dimension related to the judgement day, is essentially hope and belonging based on faithfulness and obedience to Torah as expounded by Jesus. Matthew’s Jesus, miraculously conceived, is God’s authorised agent. Matthew’s soteriology, spirituality, is fundamentally theocentric and in that sense typically Jewish. Claims about the special status of the agent mark the point of tension with other Jews, not issues of Torah, at least not as Matthew sees it. In John, the christological claims were for most contemporary Jews over the top and clearly soteriology is intimately bound up with believing its claims about Jesus. John’s soteriology includes forgiveness of sins, and sin and sins remain important as John 8 shows, but salvation is always about more than that. Much more significantly it entailed life and belonging based on faithfulness and obedience to Jesus. This fits both how John depicts it pre-Easter and how he depicts it post-Easter.

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As many, however, have recognised, despite his high Christology and, indeed, because of it, John’s soteriology is profoundly theological and theocentric. So elevated and abstracted is John’s Jesus from the historical Jesus and the Jesus of the anecdotes, that he is at almost every point and in every dialogue “making God known,” that is to say, presenting God, a divine cipher. He is not in himself light and life and bread and water independent of the Father but portrayed as an extension of God’s being. Paradoxically, one might say that he is so elevated as to disappear into the being of God, leaving the church later to resolve the conundrum through the doctrine of the Trinity. What we see here, I suggest, is in reality a transposing and return to what is the structure of Jewish spirituality of the time: relationship, faithfulness, obedience to the Word, is central, but now not as Torah, but as Jesus. That worked itself out therefore differently (and sometimes dangerously) and meant developing a new basis for ethics, but essentially what we have here is, I suggest, transposed Jewish spirituality. We may call it soteriology, if you like, but it is not focused solely on the cross as a singularly atoning event, nor on a single eschatological promise, but first and foremost on ongoing life in relationship through Christ with God and in community with fellow believers. In John, this is apart from Torah. In Matthew, it is on behalf of Torah.

9. Matthew and John Two Different Responses to a Similar Situation Introduction We live in an age where people are increasingly realising that it is not good to live in isolation. In the field of New Testament studies we have been on a journey from reading it in isolation, almost as a timeless text, to reading it within its historical context, and in many settings we still find ourselves on that journey, certainly in settings with which I am familiar. Over the past two hundred years when that journey got underway in earnest we can identify trends. Sometimes the focus was on Greco-Roman background, sometimes on Jewish, which usually meant, rabbinic background. Sometimes we had the polarity of a non-Hellenistic Palestine pitted against a Hellenistic wider world. The connection with Judaism received a boost with the discovery of the library hidden in caves at Qumran, which in turn led to a revival of interest in the socalled apocrypha and pseudepigrapha, the diverse writings of second temple Judaism. At the same time scholars such as Martin Hengel helped us to see that the dichotomy between a Palestinian Judaism and a Hellenistic Judaism of the diaspora did not really work. 1 Today there is a growing realisation of the importance of Judaism as the context in which to read New Testament literature, which shows itself in new approaches to Paul, movements such as the Enoch Seminar, emphasising diversity within Judaism, and an awareness that alongside such diversity was also a commonality not least in relation to the authority of Torah, emphasised by scholars like E. P. Sanders. 2 This awareness is not to be played off against the impact of popular and popularised Hellenistic philosophies, some of which had a profound effect on understanding the human condition, its desire for well-being or pleasure, its issues of stability, not least in relation to the passions, and what it meant to live in harmony with one’s natural surrounds and one’s fellow human beings.

1 Martin Hengel, Judentum und Hellenismus: Studien zu ihrer Begegnung unter besonderer Berücksichtigung Palästinas bis zur Mitte des 2. Jahrhunderts vor Christus, WUNT 10 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1969). 2 E. P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism (London: SCM, 1977).

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Reading in isolation not only distorts one’s understanding of the wider world. It also distorts one’s self-perception. This insight is one of the grounds for revisiting our gospels in the light of their Jewish context. Across Judaism’s diversity is a common commitment to Torah, even in such writers as Philo who spiritualises much of its cultic and ceremonial tradition to create symbols of faith, while at the same time insisting that none of Torah’s practices be set aside and severely criticises some who do so (Migr. 89–92). For some, indeed, the focus seems to have been primarily on the ethical teachings of Torah, such as we find in 2 Enoch. Some claim prior authoritative interpretation of Torah’s authority, as in earlier Enochic tradition, while for others to love the Lord God with one’s whole heart had to mean observance of every provision and neglect of none. Arguably common to all was the notion not of Torah as a set of commands to be borne as a burden, but Torah as a gift of God’s goodness enabling one to live in relationship with God, which provided not only commandments for life but also rituals for sustaining community and worship and stories to inspire. The emergence of a more nuanced understanding of Judaism in its diversity and unity is not only the product of more careful historical research, but also of the gradual abandonment of antisemitic stereotypes about Jews and Judaism. At worst they generated the spirit which found its fulfilment in the holocaust and at least worst perpetuated a theology of demarcation where Christian faith assured itself by seeking to disqualify the faith that gave it its birth as a religion of self-justification. This paper will focus on two of our gospels, Matthew and John, Matthew, the first in sequence and probably in influence over the centuries, and John coming a close second because of its different and highly symbolic character, leaving Luke, though significant, and Mark, much shorter and similar, in their wake. For both Matthew and John Torah is of major significance but in different ways. In both, it will be argued, we are dealing with a writing which grapples with the situation of defining its community’s faith in relation to its Jewish heritage and its dissenting and, one might say, from competing contemporary representatives, two different responses to a similar situation.

Matthew The sage, Ben Sira, concludes his work with the words: Draw near to me, you who are uneducated, and lodge in the house of instruction. 24 Why do you say you are lacking in these things, and why do you endure such great thirst? 25 I opened my mouth and said, “Acquire wisdom for yourselves without money. 26 Put your neck under her yoke, and let your souls receive instruction; it is to be found close by. (51:23–26)

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It had earlier given voice to Wisdom similarly: “Come to me, you who desire me, and eat your fill of my fruits. 20 For the memory of me is sweeter than honey, and the possession of me sweeter than the honeycomb (24:19–20). And Ben Sira goes on to explain: “All this is the book of the covenant of the Most High God, the law that Moses commanded us as an inheritance for the congregations of Jacob” (24:23), thus, identifying Wisdom with Torah. Matthew has Jesus speak similarly as God’s Wisdom: Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (11:28–30)

Matthew presents Jesus as exponent of Wisdom, the true teacher of the Law, and so has carefully composed his gospel so as to have this statement immediately precede two anecdotes he took over from Mark, but separating them from the cluster of 5 in which they appear in Mark 2–3: the controversy over the disciples’ plucking and eating grain on the Sabbath (12:1–8; cf. Mark 2:23–28) and Jesus’ healing the man with a withered hand on the Sabbath (12:9–14; cf. Mark 3:1–8). Not only has he taken over these stories in which Jesus’ critics accuse Jesus of sanctioning disobedience towards Torah, but he has supplemented them to present Jesus as offering a halakic response demonstrating that, far from setting the Law aside, he upholds it. Thus, he adds argument from priests working on the Sabbath and from rescuing animals caught in a ditch. As the sequel to these anecdotes, Matthew then brings a citation from Isaiah 42 which echoes the word spoken of Jesus by God at his baptism (12:18–21). In part they serve here to illustrate his insistence that people not make him known, but they also function as a reminder of what was said then at his baptism, which confirmed his identity as the one whom John announced as the judge to come. Thus, here we read: Here is my servant, whom I have chosen, my beloved, with whom my soul is well pleased. I will put my Spirit upon him, and he will proclaim judgement (țȡ઀ıȚȞ) to the Gentiles. He will not wrangle or cry aloud, nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets. 20 He will not break a bruised reed or quench a smouldering wick until he brings judgement (țȡ઀ıȚȞ) to victory. 21 And in his name the Gentiles will hope. (12:18–21)

At his baptism we heard the heavenly voice declare: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased” (3:17). That declaration served to identify Jesus as the one who would exercise God’s judgement, “the wrath to come.” For John the Baptist warned: The axe is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to carry his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 12His winnowing-fork is in his hand, and he will clear his

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threshing-floor and will gather his wheat into the granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire. (3:10–12)

Matthew has his readers clearly understand that Jesus’ role is to be the judge to come, his primary role definition in the opening chapters, and that at his baptism God confirmed Jesus as God’s agent, indeed, his Son, to exercise that role. Hence the echo of these words in 12:18–21 which emphasise Jesus’ role as judge. 3 Here too we have heard his unique sonship declared in 11:27 in words which come closest to Johannine christology of the Son’s unique knowledge of the Father, and so as the one who can summon his hearers to come and take on that yoke, embracing his exposition of God’s Law. Jesus is the judge to come who now expounds Torah. Accordingly, Matthew’s account of Jesus’ public ministry concludes with an image of Jesus the Son of Man conducting judgement (25:31–46). While John the Baptist’s prediction in chapter 3 could give the impression that Jesus must be about to take up the role of judge immediately, the reality which Matthew portrays is that the judgement day was still to come and that in the interim the judge had come to expound the basis of that judgement. Matthew even uses the Q tradition which has John send his disciples to deal with this disparity, asking whether he really was the one whom he announced as the Christ to execute judgement since that was not what he was doing, to which Jesus responds not by denying that as his role, but by pointing to signs of fulfilment of prophetic hope, his healings, and announcement of good news for the poor (11:2–6). Far from ameliorating the stark image of Jesus as judge to come, Matthew expands it to portray a ministry of grace which not only brought help and healing, but also brought exposition of the Law by which people would be judged. Already the fact that the judge to come had come in advance of the judgement to make clear the basis for judgement is an act of grace. Thus, as Jesus’ first act after emerging victorious from his testing in the wilderness, a model of faithfulness in contrast to Israel’s unfaithfulness, the evangelist profiles Jesus as a new Moses, but greater than Moses, who like Moses, goes up a mountain, an echo of Sinai and the giving of the Law, in order to expound the Law. In 5:17–20 Jesus makes important declarations about the Law, but before that, and in keeping with the expansion of his role beyond John’s image, he utters promises of hope for the needy and the faithful, because to live by God’s Law is not oppression but freedom and promise (5:3–12). His message of the coming kingdom or reign of God, which Matthew has him share with John (4:17; 3:2), is not only a vision for the future, but a promise for the present.

3 Mothy Varkey, Salvation in Continuity: Reconsidering Matthew’s Soteriology (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2017), 81–87.

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The major statement about the Law in 5:17–20 begins by warding off accusations that he is initiating a departure from Torah. Such critique in Matthew’s day will have come from fellow Jews in conflict with the way the followers of Jesus handled Torah. There were sections of the diverse Jesus movement which had in fact set parts of Torah aside, including circumcision and food laws, and some in their charismatic enthusiasm, much more, as 7:21– 23 indicate. Some take the words, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets,” as addressed to such groups.4 It seems much more likely that Matthew is reinforcing his community’s stance as it responds to critics among fellow Jews who were partly informed in their critique by such abuses.5 As 7:21–23 show, Matthew will have been aware of such abuses. There is a complex exegetical history over what Jesus means by fulfilling the Law and the prophets, but most no longer see it as fulfilling and so replacing and setting aside the Law and the Prophets, but rather as upholding, in particular, upholding the Law, which makes more sense in the light of 5:21– 48, which needs to be read as intensifying not setting aside, and, in particular, in the light of what immediately follows 5:17, where Jesus declares: “For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished” (5:18). This cannot be set aside by reading “accomplished” as primarily relating to prophetic fulfilment6 and not including the meaning, “done”, especially in the light of what immediately follows where Matthew’s Jesus goes on to say: Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. (5:19)

That is clearly about the Law.

4 David C. Sim, The Gospel of Matthew and Christian Judaism (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998), 207–208; earlier Günther Bornkamm, “Enderwartung und Kirche im Matthäusevangelium,“ in Günther Bornkamm, Gerhard Barth, and Heinz Joachim Held, Überlieferung und Auslegung im Matthäusevangelium, 6th ed., WMANT 1 (Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 1960), 13–47, 21–22; Gerhard Barth, “Das Gesetzesverständnis des Evangelisten Matthäus,” in Günther Bornkamm, Gerhard Barth, and Heinz Joachim Held, Überlieferung und Auslegung im Matthäusevangelium, 6th ed., WMANT 1 (NeukirchenVluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1970), 54–154, 149–50. 5 Donald A. Hagner, Matthew, 2 vols., WBC 33A/B (Dallas: Word, 1993, 1995), 104– 105; Richard T. France, The Gospel of Matthew, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 181–82. Matthias Konradt, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, NTD 1 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2015), sees Matthew addressing both fronts (p. 75), as earlier Reinhard Hummel, Die Auseinandersetzung zwischen Kirche und Judentum im Matthäusevangelium, BET 33 (Munich: Kaiser. 1966), 66–71. 6 Hans Hübner, Das Gesetz in der synoptischen Tradition (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1986), 196–97, 202, 237–38; France, Matthew, 179, 186.

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Time and space prevent a more detailed discussion of the way these principles are expounded in the Sermon on the Mount, but the message is clear. Jesus taught with authority and not as their scribes (7:29; cf. Mark 1:22). Matthew depicts him as the scribe par excellence, also to be followed by teachers in his community (13:52). Far from setting Torah aside, Jesus is its advocate.7 It is true that the primary focus is on ethical aspects of Torah, not least in the exposition in 5:21–48 on anger, adultery, divorce, oath taking, retaliation and loving one’s enemies,8 and especially in the depiction of the judgement in Matthew 25, but Matthew clearly also means not setting the lesser commandments aside (5:19), best illustrated in his words about tithing: Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint, dill, and cummin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith. It is these you ought to have practised without neglecting the others. (23:23)9

You should focus on the weightier matters, but you keep it all, even provisions which appear very minor indeed. Jesus, then, for Matthew, is Israel’s Messiah, but as Israel’s Messiah, he is above all the one to exercise judgement, like the Son of Man in the Parables of Enoch which Matthew echoes in the phrase “throne of his glory” (25:31; cf. 1 En. 45:3; 47:3; 55:4; 60:2; 61:8. 62:2–3, 5). This is not about discontinuity but continuity.10 Torah remains as God’s gift showing the way to remain in a relationship of life and hope with God, and Jesus is its supreme and sole interpreter. This was an exclusive claim which, combined with elevated statements about Jesus’ origin and being, elevating him far above Torah, would have been a cause of offence to his fellow Jews and have resulted in the followers of Matthew’s Jesus no longer being welcome in “their synagogues” (4:23; 9:35; 10:17; 12:9; 13:54; cf. “your synagogues” 23:34). Matthew’s claim was that they, Jesus’ followers, should now be the teachers and leaders to tend the vineyard that is Israel. They are, in that sense, a new ethnos to help it bear its fruit (įȠș੾ıİIJĮȚ ਩șȞİȚ ʌȠȚȠ૨ȞIJȚ IJȠઃȢ țĮȡʌȠઃȢ Į੝IJોȢ) (21:42), ethnos here

7

John H. Nolland, The Gospel of Matthew, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005) observes, “‘Fulfil’ must be taken in a manner that allows it to be an appropriate counterpoint to ‘annul’” (p. 218). 8 On the so-called antitheses as not antithetical to Torah but antithetical to the way it had been heard and interpreted, see Hans-Dieter Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995), 208, 216–17. On similar reactions to oaths and retaliation in Judaism, see Ingo Broer, “Anmerkungen zum Gesetzesverständnis des Matthäus,” in Das Gesetz im Neuen Testament, ed. K. Kertelge, QD 108 (Freiburg: Herder, 1986), 128–45, 131; Ingo Broer, “Das Ius Talionis im Neuen Testament,” NTS 40 (1994): 1–21, 11–21; Betz, Sermon, 277–89; cf. Barth, “Gesetzesverständnis,” 86–88. 9 Nolland, Matthew, 221. 10 On this see Varkey, Salvation in Continuity, 95–107.

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best understood a reference not to gentiles, but to the new community of the faithful.11 They were apparently living in a majority Jewish society with local rule determined by synagogue authorities sitting on Moses’ seat (23:2), probably somewhere in the territory and time of Agrippa II, whose territory extended far to the north and who reigned until the 90s CE. This makes best sense of their apparent alienation from the synagogue while at the same time having to live under the local administration it exercised. The offence was exacerbated because of the increasing presence of non-Jews among them and the bad reputation other followers of Jesus elsewhere had in relation to Torah faithfulness.

John As the call of Wisdom, offering instruction symbolised by nourishment, was an appropriate place to begin our comments on Matthew, even more so is the image of Wisdom the place to start for identifying the approach to Torah in the Gospel according to John. From the beginning we hear of the Word, which is light and life, and offers water and bread. These are the rich images used in Judaism of Torah as Wisdom. In John these are now images of Jesus, who declares of himself: I am the light, the life, the bread, the truth, the way. The difference from Matthew is that John is not declaring that Torah is the light, life, bread and truth as expounded by Jesus the judge and its interpreter, but rather setting Jesus in contrast to Torah. Jesus, not Torah, is the Word, a variation of the claim to be Wisdom, who was with God from the beginning. The relationship between Jesus, who in John assumes all the attributes once attributed to Torah, and Torah itself is complex. Torah clearly matters for the author, is indeed an authority in the sense that he sees Torah as bearing witness to Jesus as the one who was to come and who has come, in much the same way as John the Baptist is reprofiled as primarily a witness to Jesus.12 Torah, John declares, was a gift of God given through Moses (1:17). It was a gift of grace, a view John shares with other Jews of his time, but it was not permanent nor adequate. The gift of who Jesus is came in its stead: Ȥ੺ȡȚȞ ਕȞIJ੿ Ȥ੺ȡȚIJȠȢ (1:16). Furthermore, John depicts the Torah, including its institutions, as symbolising at an earthly level what was to come in Jesus. He brings a new temple to replace the old, relevant also in the wake of the temple’s destruction in 70 CE. The symbolism is extensive and includes the way the author uses Old Testament stories. That water of purification in 6 stone jars, representing what 11

Konradt, Matthäus, 335–36. On the status of Torah in John, see William R. G. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel: Structure and Issues (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017), 443–52. 12

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had become a key focus in many parts of Judaism, and through numerology implied as less than perfect, is now transformed into something else: the wine. The manna, an image of Torah, has been replaced by Jesus as the bread of life. “‘Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven” (6:32). “You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; but it is they that testify on my behalf. 40Yet you refuse to come to me to have life” (5:39–40). Similarly, the well of water, a rich symbol of Torah, is now symbolic of the water of life which Jesus, himself gives (4:10–14). A theology of supersessionism often accompanied antisemitism in its worst manifestations, with the result that many try hard to avoid any use of such language in relation to the fourth gospel. We should not, however, allow our views about what we now see as appropriate to blind us from what we have in this text, let alone read our views into it. The fourth gospel clearly does convey the notion of replacement at one level, clearly in relation to the temple and by implications the provisions relating to it, a substantial component of Torah. It does not, however, understand itself as departing from Torah, let along parting from Judaism, much as its opponents might have seen it as such. Rather Its Jewish way of coming to terms with its Jewish environment and heritage is to make the claim that the God of Israel has brought a greater gift which comes in place of the former gift (Ȥ੺ȡȚȞ ਕȞIJ੿ Ȥ੺ȡȚIJȠȢ) (1:16), and this is indeed to honour what Torah intended and foreshadowed, so that Torah and its provisions can now be called upon as an authority to support such claims. The gospel reflects a complex relationship with other Jews. Clearly it mattered significantly to the author to demonstrate that the followers of Jesus, far from abandoning the faith of their Jewish fathers, something which could be frowned on in the Greco-Roman world which valued the old, stood in true continuity with it. Otherwise the appeal to biblical authority as a witness for the new would make no sense. Nor would the many attempts to depict Jesus as the one foreshadowed by the old. This only makes sense if the author and a major proportion of his readership shared such concerns and presuppositions. The specific reference to being put out of the synagogues (16:2; cf. 9:22) reflected conflict with those other Jews, probably the majority, to whom the author and his readers once belonged, sometimes now referred to as unbelievers and designated simply as “the Jews”. The controversies with these, now retrojected in the text to the time of the ministry of Jesus, are hardly imagined out of thin air. They will reflect real conflicts between the author and his readers, on the one hand, and the synagogue adherents, on the other, “the Jews”. They are offended by the high christological claims made for Jesus. There is little evidence of continuing controversy over interpretation of the Law. At one point, Jesus may appear to be arguing halakically to defend his healing on the Sabbath (7:19–24) but this is not the case. Unlike in Matthew,

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Jesus is being presented not as the interpreter of the Law, but as the one whom the Law predicted, it alleges, would replace the Law. The sensitivity to issues of belonging explains why there is so much recourse to justifying the new with arguments from the old. Salvation is from “the Jews” (4:22), the true faithful Jews of old, and needs to be explicated and argued as such. By implication the old, the Law, is still being valued, but it has been reconfigured as still God’s gift, but given at the level of the flesh, what is below. What is below is not something at all evil, but something belonging to a lower level of reality, compared with the level of the Spirit, what is and comes from above, as John’s Jesus explains to Nicodemus (3:1–10). The structure of thought is similar to what we find in Hebrews where popular platonic categories serve the contrast. This is why the author of the fourth gospel can still sustain an argument from continuity. Both the old and the new are God’s gifts, the one replacing the other. It is also why the author does not disparage the old, though comes closest to it in his declaration in 6:63, “It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life,” but that, again, is not a contrast between good and bad but between levels of creation. John’s Jesus disparages only those who continue to live by Torah instead of living by being in a relationship with Jesus as God’s Son sent from the Father, as God’s Word and Wisdom. In John, Torah is not equated with Wisdom as in the traditions of Judaism which informed Matthew and may have at some stage informed the Logos tradition which is reflected in the Prologue. Only Jesus is Wisdom and Word. The “I am” statements imply: “I alone” and not Torah. The true bread come down from heaven was not the manna and the Torah it symbolises, but the Son (6:32–33). He, not the scriptures apart from him is the source of eternal life (5:39–40). Thus John’s gospel appears, like Matthew, to be written in a setting where followers of Jesus are coming to terms with the rejection they have experienced from fellow Jews, but doing so very differently, Matthew making the claim that Jesus is the true interpreter of the eternal Law, John making the claim that Torah has been superseded by Jesus as the Word of God, as, John alleges, Torah had predicted and foreshadowed would happen. Both are making a claim to represent what Israel’s faith should be and to be authoritative interpreters of it.

Matthew and John on Spirituality Let me conclude with some comments about what I consider a striking degree of commonality between Matthew and John, frequently overlooked. They have a similar structure in what I would describe as their spirituality. In both we find

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the forgiveness which belongs to the core of beginning and sustaining a relationship with God.13 In Matthew forgiveness, a restored relationship with God, is already offered to all in John’s baptism, as in Mark. While one of the initial findings of redactional analysis was to note that Matthew’s omission of “for the forgiveness of sins” in taking over Mark’s account and his using it instead as an addition to Jesus’ words over the cup in the last meal and so to conclude that Matthew deliberately denies that John’s baptism offered forgiveness,14 this is, on reflection, an overinterpretation. While it is true that Matthew omits the expression and that it appears in the last meal, he has in fact omitted much more from Mark and replaced it by a summary of John’s preaching which is made to match the summary of Jesus’ message in 4:17 based on Mark 1:15, and indeed also matches the summary of what the disciples are to preach (10:7). Thus where Mark read: “John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” (İੁȢ ਙijİıȚȞ ਖȝĮȡIJȚ૵Ȟ) (1:4), Matthews reads instead: “In those days John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness of Judea, proclaiming, 2 ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near’” (3:1–2). Rather than demote John by removing forgiveness from what his baptism offered, Matthew promotes John, while not to the same level as Jesus, nevertheless to a level of continuity and consistency with Jesus. Such elevation is unlikely to have implied a diminishing of his baptism’s impact. The context also suggests that John’s baptism in Matthew’s view retained this significance. Thus when he writes that people came to be baptised, confessing their sins (3:6) and adds the words “for repentance” in 3:11 (cf. Mark 1:8), it is scarcely credible that he implied that the baptism offered nothing in response or somehow foreshadowed a forgiveness which would become available only much later after Jesus’ death. 15 Forgiveness was part of the good news he proclaimed, which then Jesus and the disciples would also proclaim. Similarly, Matthew has Jesus declare that one inherits eternal life already in the present

13 See also the discussion comparing soteriology in John and Matthew in William R. G. Loader, “Tensions in Matthean and Johannine Soteriology Viewed in Their Jewish Context,” in Jesus and Judaism: A Contested Relationship in Context, ed. R. Alan Culpepper and Paul N. Anderson, SBLRBS 87 (Atlanta: SBL, 2017), 175–88, chapter 8 in this volume. 14 Bornkamm, “Enderwartung,” 13; Eduard Schweizer, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, NTD 2 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1973), 23; Hummel, Auseinandersetzung, 101; John P. Meier, Matthew (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1983), 319; Konradt, Matthäus, 406; cf. Barth, “Gesetzesverständnis,” 109–10; and see the discussion in Loader, “Tensions,” 175–76, 178–79, in this volume chapter 8, pp. 151–52, 155–56. 15 So rightly on 3:6, Hagner, Matthew, 47.

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by keeping the commandments, the Torah, every stroke, as interpreted by Jesus (5:20; 19:16–22). 16 Thus, Jesus, too, in Matthew as in Mark, offers forgiveness of sins during his ministry to the paralytic (Matt 9:2–6; Mark 2:5–10)17 and in sayings (Matt 6:14–15; Mark 11:25), and does so not least in the so-called Lord’s Prayer (Matt 6:9–13) and also in the parable of the unforgiving servant (18:35). Such sayings make it clear that forgiveness is made possible primarily because of who God is and God’s mercy and compassion. At the same time Matthew also knows the tradition of Jesus’ death as vicarious, which he found in Mark 10:45 (Matt 20:28) and in Mark’s account of Jesus’ last meal where he declares: IJȠ૨IJં ਥıIJȚȞ IJઁ ı૵ȝ੺ ȝȠȣ (“This is my body”) (14:22) and more significantly over the cup says: IJȠ૨IJં ਥıIJȚȞ IJઁ Įੈȝ੺ ȝȠȣ IJોȢ įȚĮș੾țȘȢ IJઁ ਥțȤȣȞȞંȝİȞȠȞ ਫ਼ʌ੻ȡ ʌȠȜȜ૵Ȟ (“This is my blood of the covenant poured out for many”) (14:24), to which as reinforcement Matthew adds the words, İੁȢ ਙijİıȚȞ ਖȝĮȡIJȚ૵Ȟ (“for the forgiveness of sins”) (26:28). That does not change the fundamental understanding that forgiveness is rooted in the being of God, any more than for Jews the belief that the suffering righteous, whether in Isaiah 53 or in the Maccabean martyrs (2 Maccabees 7), had a vicarious effect implied that thereby all other means of forgiveness were to be excluded. The same inclusive understanding explains how Matthew can affirm both that forgiveness of sins was offered through Jesus and John and that it was a fruit of Jesus’ death. There is no need to try to deny one aspect or the other, for instance, by denying that John’s baptism and Jesus’ offer of forgiveness during his ministry were real or by claiming they were proleptic pointing to his death, nor to explain away the admittedly few references to his death as atoning, such as we find in his account of the final meal and in the ransom saying he takes over from Mark. This inclusive understanding of the soteriology of the cross stands in contrast to an exclusive soteriology of the cross, which would declare that forgiveness is possible only on the basis of Christi’s vicarious death. Similarly, and even more so, John’s gospel portrays Jesus as offering forgiveness, or in more encompassing terms, eternal life already during his ministry, based primarily on his own person, acting for and in that sense embodying God and God’s compassion. As in Matthew, this is an offer of life in relationship with God, including forgiveness, though sustained in John not 16 So Daniel J. Harrington, The Gospel of Matthew, SP 1 (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1991), 281; Daniel J. Harrington, “The Rich Young Man in Mt 19,16–22: Another Way to God for Jews?” in Four Gospels: Festschrift Frans Neirynck, ed. Frans van Segbroeck et al. (Leuven: Peeters, 1992), 1425–32, 1431–32. 17 This can hardly be dismissed as christological not soteriological. Cf. Meier, Matthew, 91; similarly, Hagner, Matthew, 234; Robert Gundry Matthew: A Commentary on His Handbook for a Mixed Church under Persecution, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994), 154–80.

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by adherence to Torah as God’s gift for living in oneness with God, but by Jesus’ teaching, later, post-Easter, mediated by the Spirit and its version of Jesus’ story claimed to be depicted in the gospel. John also knows the tradition of Jesus’ death as vicarious, 18 and it comes alongside a range of sayings which interpret his death as a climactic event, in which sin and its ruler are exposed, the full extent Jesus’ love for his own revealed, and the shamefulness of the cross transformed for the eyes of faith into a moment of exaltation and glorification which would carry Jesus back, ascending to his Father, to receive and send the Spirit. Here, too, however, an inclusive soteriology of the cross is assumed. There is no need as some have done, to explain away the allusions to Jesus’ vicarious death, and reduce his death to his exit or ascent. 19 Nor is there need to explain away references to his offering the gift of eternal life during his ministry because of who he was, with theories that such references are all proleptic conditional on Jesus’ death. 20 Thus, in John, too, we see a similar pattern of spirituality, basically ground in a relationship with God governed by oneness in prayer and obedience to God’s will. The difference is, of course, that for Matthew God’s will is Torah interpreted by Jesus, whereas in John it is doing as Jesus taught and 18 On this see Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 147–202; Jörg Frey, “Das vierte Evangelium auf dem Hintergrund der älteren Evangelientradition. Zum Problem Johannes und die Synoptiker,” in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten. Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. J. Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 239–94, 286; Jörg Frey, “Die ‘theologia crucifixi’ des Johannevangeliums,” in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten. Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. J. Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 485–554, 530–31. 19 Ernst Käsemann, Jesu Letzter Wille nach Johannes 17, 3rd ed. (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1971), 124, 135; Rudolf Bultmann, Theologie des Neuen Testaments (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1953), 406; Michael E. Theobald, Das Evangelium nach Johannes. Kapitel 1–12, RNT (Regensburg: Pustet, 2009), 65. 20 Cf. Wilhelm Thüsing, Die Erhöhung und Verherrlichung Jesu im Johannesevangelium, 3rd ed., NTAbh 21 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1979), 14, 164, 171; Marianne Meye Thompson, The God of the Gospel of John (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 178; John Painter, John: Witness and Theologian, 3rd ed. (Melbourne: Beacon Hill, 1986), 89–90; Jörg Frey, Die johanneische Eschatologie I–III, WUNT 96, 110, 117 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997, 1998, 2000), 2.241–46, 3.281; but who argues, for instance, in relation to the words “and now is” that for the author Christ’s presence alone makes true worship possible (2. p. 282); Jörg Frey, Theology and History in the Fourth Gospel: Tradition and Narration, Waco: Baylor, 2018), who in my view presses the post-Easter perspective too far when for instance he writes: “The Jesus who utters his divine ‘I am’ is already the risen and glorified one, who is ‘the resurrection and the life’ (11:25) and the ‘light of the world’ (8:12)” (p. 169). See also the assessment in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 194–202, and Cornelis Bennema, The Power of Saving Wisdom: An Investigation of Spirit and Wisdom in Relation to the Soteriology of the Fourth Gospel, WUNT 2.148 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 37, who rightly argues that “Jesus, as Wisdom incarnate, is the source of salvation” (p. 38, similarly, pp. 94–96, 122, 186–87.

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commanded. In areas of ethics it amounts to the same, since the ethics of John’s community will have been shaped by values found in Torah, though also widely upheld in the moral teachers of the time. So differences remain, with Matthew not setting a single stroke aside and John linking ethics no longer to Torah but to loving one another as Jesus loved them in a community of love which embraced mutual love of Father, Son and believers together. Even then they are not so far apart because at least in terms of where Matthew puts the emphasis, namely the weightier matters, there is significant common ground.

10. Competing Spiritualities Reflections on John 6 in Global Perspective Within the landscape of the fourth gospel one of the favourite stopping points for biblical geologists is John 6. It sits somewhat awkwardly as a block between the preceding and following chapters, leading some to propose reordering and others more persuasively to see it as added in the gospel’s final stages. 1 In addition, within John 6 there appear to be layers of tradition, inviting the adventure of speculation about how each arose and how the layers are interconnected.2 While acknowledging the legitimacy of pursuing such goals, though with caution and more humility than is sometimes shown, I shall seek in this paper instead to revisit the contours with which it now presents us, in order to examine what it conveys in its diversity when read as a whole. In particular I shall explore how the spirituality of the fourth gospel comes to expression here, set in contrast with competing spiritualities. By spirituality I mean how the author portrays what it means to engage in a relationship with God. That is a question of history but also one which remains current in our world today and so I will also add comments about what we might learn from the competing spiritualities of John 6 for our addressing the question: how one engages in a relation to God in our contemporary cultural contexts. I use the term “spiritualities” because as I shall seek to demonstrate there are various spiritualities or models of how one understands engaging with God in John 6. I shall begin with the more positive, that is, the spiritualities which the author seems determined to affirm, before then turning to those the author appears to reject or at least seriously qualify. The most central image expressing spirituality in John 6 is that of Jesus as the bread of life. Bread is understood not as a luxury extra but as a necessity for life in the same way that in John 4, with which our chapter is connected through 6:35, the image of water is used not as something to satisfy supplementary indulgence but as a basic necessity. Thus, the imagery indicates 1

Johannes Beutler, Das Johannesevangelium (Freiburg: Herder, 2013), 61, 205. E.g., Robert T. Fortna, The Gospel of Signs: A Reconstruction of the Narrative Underlying the Fourth Gospel, SNTSMS 11 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970); Paul N. Anderson, The Christology of the Fourth Gospel: Its Unity and Disunity in the Light of John 6, 3rd ed. (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2010); Michael E. Theobald, Das Evangelium nach Johannes. Kapitel 1–12, RNT (Regensburg: Pustet 2009), 425–26; and see the discussion in Beutler, Johannesevangelium, 206–207. 2

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a claim that what Jesus is and offers in his person is not a religious extra to enhance one’s relationship with God but is fundamental to it. To relate to Jesus is in this sense to relate to God. This also makes sense of the fact that we find similar images drawn from the basic necessities of life also applied to Jesus, such as light and life and in a spatial, directional sense: way. One may add: vine, where the assumption is that one needs a vine to produce grapes and wine, also understood as staple to the normal diet of the time rather than as a luxury extra. Many of Jesus’ “I am” sayings use such imagery to have him make the claim, that he and he alone is the source of human spirituality. The claim not just to bring but also to be bread, light, life, way, and vine, is extraordinary. It raises, in turn, the question of spirituality: how then does one engage with and receive this bread and light and life? The answer in the fourth gospel is simple: one believes. That belief entails acceptance that Jesus is bread and light and life but more than a cognitive response of assent to his claims. It also includes a personal response of choosing to enter a relationship which entails loyalty and commitment and, in that process, opening oneself to receive the benefits of what the images convey: the necessities of life, usually expressed as eternal life. Eternal life does entail a future aspect, which includes assurance of a place with Jesus, the Son, in the Father’s house, and avoidance of the condemnation which future judgement would bring, so certainly including forgiveness of sins. It also includes a present aspect of being included, accepted, in a relationship with the Son and the Father and with others in a community whose relationships are governed by mutual love. That present benefit includes therefore both a sense of belonging as well as a level of mutual care which in the circumstances of most people of the time would also mean, of course, help for survival in face of the ever-present threat of poverty, an aspect frequently overlooked by interpreters in contexts not faced with such needs, as I have argued elsewhere.3 In its projections forward to the time of the church, the gospel also depicts such benefit in association with the giving of the Spirit, with or in whom Jesus and the Father come to dwell in the believer and so consolidate the relationship of love which bears fruit benefitting the believer and expands that generosity of offering life’s basic necessities also to others in mission beyond the community. The meaning of the imagery of bread and life and light, but also water, is spelled out in terms of a relationship through the Son with the Father, which, because of its nature as a relationship of love, generates benefits in the present and promises them for the future for those who continue in that relationship, to 3 William R. G. Loader, “What Happened to ‘Good News for the Poor’ in the Johannine Tradition? in John, Jesus, and History, Vol. 3, Glimpses of Jesus through the Johannine Lens, ed. Paul N. Anderson, Felix Just, and Tom Thatcher; ECL 18 (Atlanta: SBL, 2016), 469–80, chapter 12 in this volume.

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use another image, who continue to abide in the Son. The foundation for this spirituality or way of engaging with God is profoundly christological. It is primarily in his person as bread and light and life that the good news is found, more than anything which he said or did. Indeed, it is one of the key features of the gospel that the author uses traditional sayings and anecdotes about Jesus, some with parallels in the other gospels and perhaps indirectly dependent on them, in order to convey the same message over and over again, that he is the bread and light and life. While not entirely losing a sense of sequence and history of events and sometimes incidentally preserving useful historical information not present elsewhere, most recently convincingly reassessed by Frey, 4 the gospel primarily presents Jesus in his person as the source of life, as the one who came from the Father to offer bread and light and life to the world. The place where this most obviously comes through is in the prologue, which thus sets the tone and provides the key for understanding the rest of the gospel. For the one later depicted as offering the water of life, as being bread and light and life, is here depicted as the Logos, the Word. And already here we find the imagery of light and life and the explicit identification of the Word as Jesus Christ, the Word enfleshed, bearing the divine glory of the divine Son, full of light and truth. In the rest of chapter one we find motifs associated with the Jewish hope for a Messiah, Lamb, Son of God but these are now fulfilled in the one who in his person is the good news. 5 Such motifs are now integrated within a pattern or structure of thought which primarily portrays the good news as the person of Jesus himself and the possibility of engaging in relationship with him to receive the benefits of the bread and light and life he is and brings. This coheres with the image of John 6 according to which Jesus claims that he is the bread of life come down from heaven, sent from the Father. Associated with the images of bread, but also light and life, are the words, “I am.”6 These have evoked for readers the reference to “I am,” “I am that I am,” to Moses as God’s name at the burning bush, and to uses in 2nd Isaiah as a self-designation of God, raising the question whether Jesus is claiming the divine name for himself in these instances. In 6:35 Jesus declares “I am the bread of life,” which is picked up in the objection by “the Jews”: “He said, ‘I am the bread which came down from heaven’” (6:41), where one would expect an accusation of blasphemy, should “I am” be understood as claiming the divine name for himself. It is clear that in the exchange the objection does not

4 Jörg Frey, Theology and History in the Fourth Gospel: Tradition and Narration (Waco: Baylor, 2018), 59–142. 5 William R. G. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel: Structure and Issues in Johannine Christology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017), 436–42. 6 For a fuller discussion see Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 347–54; Marianne Meye Thompson, John (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2015), 156–60; Theobald, Johannes, 463–66.

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hear it this way and nor apparently does the author but instead the focus is on the claim to have come down from heaven: “How now is he saying, ‘I have come down from heaven’?” (6:42), set in contrast to what they know, namely that he is Joseph’s son and they know his parents. (6:42). When 6:48 has Jesus repeat the claim, the same applies. It is not a claim to the divine name. The anecdote about Jesus walking on the water has Jesus respond to the disciples’ fears with the words, “I am/it is I. Do not be afraid,” almost identical to the way his response is given in the parallel story in Mark: “Be of good courage. I am/it is I. Do not be afraid” (6:50). Neither in Mark nor in John does Ego eimi appear to be understood as an allusion to the divine name, where one would expect a significant response to Jesus’ statement. In both versions it is best heard simply as saying: “It is I” or more colloquially: “It’s me.”7 This is but one of the contours we find on the landscape of John 6 but it is the primary one. We remain a little longer pondering its significance and, in this regard, seek to supplement our understanding by looking beyond this landscape to similar but related terrain. I begin with 1 John where we read: “God is light,” as well as “God is love.” There is no contradiction between Jesus’ claiming “I am the light” and the author of 1 John declaring, “God is light,” but the fact that this occurs does draw our attention again to the nature of Jesus’ claim. The best commentary is probably to be found in the opening of the prologue which declares: “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.” In effect the christology of the fourth gospel has become so heightened that somewhat paradoxically Jesus disappears, as it were, into the life of God or, put another way, for all intents and purposes, Jesus is God. That is, however, by no means a simple equation, for despite this oneness the author differentiates the Son and the Father, subordinates the Son to the Father and never the other way around and depicts movement which entails distance in time and space, the Son coming from the Father and returning to the Father. The later doctrines of the Trinity would seek to resolve such paradoxical language. In John it is nevertheless clear that Jesus is reduced, or one might say more appropriately enhanced, to become de facto a presentation of God. Jesus is bread and light and life not independent of God but because God is bread and light and life. Jesus is in that sense an extension of God. John’s christology is fundamentally therefore theological and that is the foundation of Johannine spirituality: a relationship with God. If we look in other directions seeking similar terrain, we see looming large on the horizon a constellation of the same imagery of water, bread, light and life, associated with God’s Wisdom. In fact, there is a direct continuity between this terrain and what is said in the prologue of the Logos, such that one could easily replace Logos by Wisdom. It is clear that the author of the fourth gospel 7

Thompson, John, 143.

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is claiming that what was said of Wisdom is not only true of Jesus but that Jesus is Wisdom, the Word, and only Jesus is Wisdom and Word. Some of the closest parallels are found in the Parables of Enoch where we read that Wisdom came and was rejected (1 En. 42:1–2), just as the Word came to his own and they rejected him (1:11). But the more positive depiction in Ben Sira is equally relevant, that Wisdom came to Israel and was positively received (Sir 24:1– 12). A major difference however from Ben Sira (and also Baruch) is that both identify Wisdom with Torah, as God’s word to Israel (Sir 24:23; Bar 4:1). Wisdom/Torah is bread and water and light and life (Sir 24:19–22). The author of the fourth gospel knows that tradition but does not embrace it. Instead it declares that God’s gift of Torah through Moses (1:16–17), not identified as Wisdom, preceded and foreshadowed the greater gift destined to replace it, namely Jesus, identified as Logos as light and truth and so by implication as God’s wisdom. The difference between Torah and Jesus as the Logos (and Wisdom) comes to expression in John 6 which draws upon the imagery of Torah as manna and has Jesus declare: “Moses did not give you bread from heaven, but my Father gives you the true bread from heaven. The bread of God is the one who came down from heaven and giving life to the world” (6:32– 33). “You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that testify on my behalf. Yet you refuse to come to me to have life” (5:39–40). Even though there is a clear distinction between Torah and Jesus the Word, to which we return below in discussing continuity and discontinuity, the link between the two has implications for understanding the spirituality of the fourth gospel because the structure of the spirituality which both presume is similar. According to the former, one receives bread and light and life by living in a relationship with God governed by God’s word, Torah, which includes belonging to a community of others who share that relationship. Similarly, according to the latter one receives bread and light and life by living in a relationship with God governed by God’s Word, Jesus, which includes belonging to a community of others who share that relationship. The relationship with God is fundamental for both spiritualities. Its mediation or governance is different. But the governance or control which determines the latter is expressed in who Jesus is and so ultimately in who God is. In both spiritualities the foundation is therefore theological, with the latter having its focus less on commandments and rituals and more on some primary values, such as love and its implications, though always interpreted according to the ethical principles embodied in Torah. It is historically incorrect to depict the former as a spirituality of keeping rules and commandments. These have a subordinate role to enable the relationship to be sustained which also has its basis in divine generosity. In that sense there is a continuity of spirituality, but a difference over the extent to which the ritual provisions, in particular, are to

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be upheld, but informing both is a theology according to which God in love offers an ongoing relationship. In this sense the spirituality implied in the claim that Jesus is the bread of life, the key image in John 6, is very Jewish in structure: ongoing engagement in relation to God as the source of life and appropriating the blessings of shared community. While at one level such claims made of Jesus appear extraordinary and for many alienating in their exclusiveness (“no one comes to the Father except through me” 14:6), the fact that they are primarily theological and ultimately are about who God is, paradoxically, makes them more accessible and universal than some of the claims found elsewhere in the gospels. For John’s good news, expressed through the existential imagery of water, bread, light and life, speaks a language universally understood across human cultures, and so can be translated globally into diverse settings. Its simplification of the complex Jesus tradition into a claim that ultimately there is a God who seeks relationship based on love and promises a community of life and hope to address human existential longing renders it accessible to all. It can also provide a template or measure for identifying the same spirituality elsewhere, wherever it may occur, including in diverse religious traditions of humanity. It has, in that sense global relevance and is a key resource for interreligious and intercultural dialogue. While John has Jesus express this exclusively: “I am the way, the truth and the life; no one comes to the Father but by me,” one could also find ground for going beyond John to argue: Jesus’ understanding of God as the God who seeks relationship is the way, the truth, and the life, and so the only way to relate authentically to God. Light does not wear labels and we may recognise the light we have seen in Jesus wherever it shines, a truly global perspective. While this universal dimension appears to me to be a corollary of John’s christology and theology as represented in the core image of John 6 of Jesus as the bread of life, it is a spirituality alongside others in John 6 which also deserve our attention. This is evident in the change in surface structure of the text when we move into 6:51–58. Here the language of faith takes on a new form in the imagery of eating the flesh of the Son of Man and drinking his blood. This goes beyond the nature of faith discussed thus far and is directly related to an expansion of the horizon from looking to Jesus’ coming as the bread of life and his ministry to looking at his death and its consequences. The imagery of bread used in the discourse since 6:30 necessarily implies eating, as the imagery of water implies drinking and, thus far, such eating and drinking has been equated with assent to Jesus’ claim to be the bread of life and engagement in relationship with him through joining his community of faith.

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Some see the more specific comments of eating his flesh and drinking his blood in 6:51–58 as simply further elaboration of such faith.8 There are some indications, however, that it must mean more than that.9 These include that the change coincides with the introduction of a reference to Jesus’ death in 6:51: “I am the living bread come down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread he shall live forever, and the bread which I shall give is my flesh for the life of the world.” There is also a change in tense. He had spoken of being that bread in the present. Now he speaks of giving it in the future, from the perspective of his earthly ministry, so related to his death and the time following his death. In addition, the previous statement about giving bread in the future is found in 6:27, which refers to “the food (ȕȡ૵ıȚȞ) which remains forever, which the Son of Man will give you. For God has set his seal on him.” The title, “Son of Man” reappears in 6:51–58, where he speaks of eating the flesh of the Son of Man (6:53) and we find another reference to “food” (ȕȡ૵ıȚȢ) (6:54), echoing 6:27. In addition, a more striking verb is used of eating: IJȡઆȖȦ (54, 56, 58). Aside from 3:13 where Son of Man refers to Jesus’ descent alongside his ascent, all other uses of this title appear in contexts related to the climax of Jesus’ ministry, namely his death, exaltation and return to the Father.10 That is clearly its context here and fits the allusion to his death with which this section begins. This part of the landscape appears designed to shock and confront, part of the author’s rhetorical interplay with his sympathetic hearers, who know that this has nothing to do with cannibalism or the like. The allusions to eating his flesh and drinking his blood are best understood as allusions to the eucharist.11 Supporting this conclusion is the likelihood that the author would hardly have been unaware of eucharistic tradition, especially if he has some awareness of the other gospels or at least Mark,12 even though he does not bring an account of Jesus’ last meal on the night when he was arrested. At this point on the landscape of John 6 we have therefore a reflection of the spiritual practice of the Johannine community, which included as a core

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Martinus J. J. Menken, “John 6.51c–58. Eucharist or Christology?” in Critical Readings of John 6, ed. R. Alan Culpepper (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 183–204, 185–88. 9 See the discussion in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 169–71. 10 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 213–80. 11 Beutler, Johannes, 225–26; Thompson, John, 154; Jörg Frey, “Das Bild als Wirkungspotential. Ein rezeptionsgeschichtlicher Versuch zur Funktion der Brot-Metapher in Johannes 6,” in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten. Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. J. Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 381–406, 406; Jörg Frey, “Edler Tod – wirksamer Tod – stellvertretender Tod – heilschaffender Tod. Zur narrativen und theologischen Deutung des Todes Jesu im Johannesevangelium,” in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten. Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. J. Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 555–84, 576. 12 Ian D. Mackay, John’s Relationship with Mark, WUNT 2.182 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 237–56.

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element the appropriation by faith of Jesus the bread of life through consuming the elements of bread and wine, representing Jesus’ body and blood but essentially representing who he was and is as the bread of life and so ultimately, opening oneself to God One might want to add that there is an additional benefit here flowing from an understanding of his death as vicarious. 13 This may be present, not least since it is an aspect of the eucharistic traditions we know from Mark and Paul and their parallels. This should not however be seen as now offering something not already given in the person of Jesus as the bread of life during his ministry. On the other hand, nor is there warrant in the light of his being the bread of life to exclude an allusion to his death as vicarious.14 It was possible to hold both perspectives together, such as we find in the other gospels which can depict Jesus (and already John the Baptist) as offering forgiveness of sins (Mark 1:4; 2:5, 10 par.; Luke 1:77; 3:3; 7:47) while also alluding to his death as vicarious (Mark 10:45 par.; 14:25 par.). As in Judaism, an inclusive stance could hold together the notions of martyrs’ deaths as vicarious with belief that forgiveness is accessible through prayer and other practices. The one does not need to exclude the other. An inclusive approach to the eucharist, following the Johannine pattern, would mean that there need be no contradiction between affirming eucharistic practice alongside proffering the more universally accessible gospel of good news of life in relationship with God. If we turn in the other direction, we see that the landscape of John 6 has folds familiar from what will have been the past of the community. The miracle with which the chapter begins echoes the feeding miracle performed by Elisha when it tells of the lad who brought the loaves and fish (2 Kgs 4:42–43). It also echoes the miraculous feeding of Israel in the wilderness with manna, a parallel referred to directly in the discourse which follows. Similarly, the walking on water at least alludes to the miracles of overcoming the dangers of the deep, such as the parting of the waters in the escape from Egypt. The implications of such typologies are clear: the God who makes himself known in Jesus is the God of Israel of old. This is both a claim to authority and a claim to continuity. We may rightly assume that for the hearers of John 6 it mattered for their spirituality that the one who came to them as bread, light and life, was not offering a new religion in contradiction or discontinuity with the old, but was truly the one sent from the God who had acted to save his people in the past. 13 Thomas Knöppler, Die theologia crucis des Johannesevangeliums. Das Verständnis des Todes Jesu im Rahmen der johanneischen Inkarnations- und Erhöhungschristologie, WMANT 69 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag 1994), 94–95, 202; Jörg Frey, “Die ‘theologia crucifixi’ des Johannevangeliums,“ in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten. Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. J. Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 485–554, 531. 14 Cf. J. Terence Forestell, The Word of the Cross, AnBib 57 (Rome: BIP, 1974), 76; see discussion in Theobald, Johannes, 478.

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In Mark’s version of the feeding of the 5000 the numerical symbolism serves to celebrate the gospel coming to Israel, alluded to in the twelve baskets matching the twelve tribes and probably alluded to also in the number five, matching the five books of Moses, in the five loaves and the five thousand. Its story reinforces the link by referring to the people as like sheep without a shepherd, a traditional description of Israel, and, having them divided into troops of hundreds and fifties like Israel in the wilderness. It then has the feeding of the 4000 represent the gospel coming to gentiles, locating it in gentile territory and using the numerical symbolism of seven to represent the universal, in seven loaves and seven baskets left over.15 John’s version may retain a symbolic allusion to Israel in the numbers but it is not explicit and not used as Mark uses it to address the issue of inclusion of both Israel and gentiles as recipients of the good news. While John 6 underlines continuity by typology, underlining that the God who acted then is acting in Jesus, the continuity is a modified continuity. The discourse plays on the allusion to manna in the wilderness in order to make a clear distinction within the theological continuity between the past and the present in a way that goes beyond mere continuity to a claim of superiority. The miracle of manna foreshadowed the coming of the true bread. That miracle is not denied let alone disparaged but it remained at the level of an earthly material event belonging to the world below, whereas the coming of the true bread from heaven, from above, is something new. The author goes beyond, however, simply contrasting the past act of God in giving the manna at an earthly level and the coming of the heavenly gift. He also expands that contrast to include the symbolic use of the manna to represent God’s gift of Torah (Deut 8:2–3; Wis 16:26; Philo Mut. 253–263). 16 Accordingly, Moses did not give bread from heaven, which means by implication Torah is not bread from heaven. Only Jesus, the Logos, is bread from heaven. This is a contrast found already in 1:16–17, where a distinction is made between two gifts of God, the second replacing the first, Christ the true bread replacing Torah.17 The contrast is subtle and does not disparage Torah, but redefines it as both foreshadowing at an earthly level and predicting what was to come and so what would replace it. In terms of spirituality this means that a relationship with God is now to be based not on the covenantal nomism of living by Torah but on faith in and loyalty to Jesus. To do the works of God is not to follow the prescriptions of Torah but to believe in the one whom God sent (6:26–29). The theological continuity with the God of Israel who acted in the past is thus qualified on the 15 On Mark see William R. G. Loader, Jesus’ Attitude towards the Law: A Study of the Gospels, WUNT 2.97 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997), 65–85. 16 Theobald, Johannes, 462. 17 See Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 443–52.

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basis that God acted then at one level, that of the flesh, also good and God’s creation, but has now acted at another superior level, that of the spirit. To recognise this is to know that faith in God must now be on the basis of embracing the gift of bread, light and life in the Son whom the Father has sent, and so no longer to continue to relate to God as before on the basis of Torah. The author here and elsewhere makes every effort to avoid any sense that the old is bad or blameworthy. On the contrary, to attend to it now from the perspective of the new is to recognise that it foreshadowed and predicted the new which was to replace it. This includes its predictions of a Messiah, Son of God, king of Israel, which the author sees have been fulfilled in Christ, understood now within its more developed christological understanding of Jesus as the Word, the Son sent by the Father from above. The subtle sense of continuity and discontinuity with Israel’s faith has also some similarity with the way the author in John 6 treats the Jesus tradition itself. Thus, nothing suggests that the author seeks to deny the miracle of the feeding of the 5000 but there is nevertheless a clear sense that there are appropriate and inappropriate responses to that event. That event, as the author’s depiction of Jesus’ discourse shows, symbolises at the earthly level below, the level of the flesh, a reality on the spiritual level above, namely that Jesus is the bread of life. To appreciate it only at the earthly level is like appreciating God’s acts in Israel’s past, with which it is in continuity as God’s action, and God’s gift of Torah, at that level. That is to fail to see what it points to at the spiritual level, Jesus as the true bread. The account of the feeding of the 5000 in John 6 makes this critical perspective clear when it mentions those who follow Jesus because of the miracles (6:2) and especially when in response to seeing the miracle they acclaimed him “truly the prophet who is to come into the world” and want to make him king (6:14–15). Jesus walks away from such spirituality, for such faith is inappropriate, not because it acclaims the miracle and acclaims Jesus as prophet and king (Messiah) but because it fails to see that he is so much more than that. Theirs is a response still at the earthly level. John 6 later has Jesus summarily dismisses this kind of response as concerned only with food and drink (6:26) and elsewhere depicts it similarly as failing to see Jesus for who he really is. Earlier in the gospel it had depicted Nicodemus as remaining at that level where because of Jesus’ miracles Nicodemus acknowledges that Jesus has come from God and is rebuffed with the need to be born from above to be able to see the higher reality (3:1–3). Nicodemus reflects the approach of those depicted in the previous verses who indeed believe in his name, language used of becoming a believer, because of the miracles, but in whom Jesus refused to believe because he knew what was in people (2:23–25). The miracles are described as signs, ıȘȝİ૙Į, a term whose range of meaning can include being something which points beyond itself but could also simply mean wonder in the sense of an event on the basis of which one may claim authority or

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influence. In typical Johannine use of double meaning, the author wants people to understand ıȘȝİ૙Į in the former sense, not simply the latter. John 6 brings critical reflection to bear on both the faith of Israel and, significantly, on the faith of Jesus’ followers, disqualifying both if they remain at the earthy level and fail to see the heavenly, the spiritual, which was to see and respond to Jesus as the source of life. It rejects these competing spiritualities and at least invites our consideration in our own day of spiritualities which remain at the level of alleged miracles, signs and wonders, as a basis for recruiting religious followers. A sense of differentiation is found not only in the opening sections of John 6 and its discourse but also in the concluding sections, from 6:60 onwards. Here, again, we have to do with followers of Jesus but this time they are the dissenters. The term used, that they grumble, links them with those unbelieving fellow Jewish opponents who resist Jesus’ assertions in 6:41. These erstwhile followers take offence at Jesus’ words. It is not immediately clear what of Jesus’ claims caused offence. Given what immediately precedes in 6:51–58, it could have been the notion of eating Jesus’ flesh and drinking his blood as a shocking image. Jesus’ response in 6:62 however suggests that it has to do with his claim to have come from above: “What if you were to see the Son of Man ascending where he was before?” 18 It might refer to both his coming and the way he depicts that his gift will be received, through eating and drinking.19 The words, “What if you were to see the Son of Man ascending where he was before?” imply, however, that this, his ascent, would cause greater offence. Why? It might refer to shamefulness of crucifixion which at least was the first stage in Jesus’ ascent to the Father where he was before. 20 The next statement, “The spirit gives life; the flesh is of no profit,” frames the offence within the contrast of flesh and spirit, below and above. This makes it likely that the suggested offence for such believers would be the claim that Jesus comes from and goes back to the heavenly world.21 It would seem then that the followers of Jesus depicted here are similar to those depicted in 6:14–15, though they need not be the same. They have in common with the grumbling opponents that they are offended by Jesus’ claim to have come from above and are apparently remaining in their faith at the level of wanting to hail him, perhaps as those in 6:14–15, as prophet and Messiah, but are unwilling to go along with the much higher claims that Jesus is the

18 19

Theobald, Johannes, 490. George R. Beasley-Murray, John, 2nd ed., WBC 36 (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1999),

96. 20 Jean Zumstein, Das Johannesevangelium, KEKNT (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2016), 278. 21 Rudolf Schnackenburg, Das Johannesevangelium. 2. Teil. 2nd ed., HTKNT 4.2. (Freiburg: Herder, 1977), 103–107.

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Word, the Son who has come from the Father. It is probably significant that the encounter takes place, as John emphasises, in the synagogue in Capernaum (6:59). They respond to Jesus at the level of the flesh and fail to hear Jesus’ words and receive them as lifegiving. Whereas in 6:14–15 Jesus took his leave of such followers, here these followers take leave of Jesus (6:66) and in effect cease to be followers. By contrast, Simon Peter as spokesperson for the twelve reaffirms their faith in Jesus’ words as lifegiving and in him as “holy one of God” (6:69), in an exchange which recalls and may be rewriting Mark 8:27– 30, where Mark has Peter hail him as “the Christ”. The choice of “holy one of God” may be because “the Christ” was too close to what the dissenters were willing to confess.22 Confessing Jesus as the Christ is central for John but only in a much more elevated sense. The chapter concludes with reference to Judas, son of Simon Iscariot, as the one who would betray Jesus (6:70–71). Of others who reject Jesus the author has Jesus provide a rationalising explanation along the lines that only those whom the Father has given to the Son (6:37, 65) and whom the Father draws to the Son (6:44), who are thus “taught of God” an allusion to Isa 54:13 (6:45), respond positively and that Jesus had foreknowledge of this. The apparent determinism sits paradoxically beside statements which assume the freedom of those hearing Jesus to believe or not to do so, typical of the use of such rationalisations elsewhere, such as in the sectarian documents found at Qumran (cf. also 3:19–21). At one level the depiction of the good news in John 6 is particularist and divisive. While it has arguably an integrated spirituality, this is articulated in a manner that excludes. It excludes a spirituality of following Jesus primarily because of his signs and wonders. It excludes a spirituality than can see Jesus only at an earthly level. It excludes a spirituality which remains committed to the Torah of the Jews as the way to life. There is also a level of exclusion in its affirming a spirituality for which celebration of the eucharist appears central. On the other hand, it affirms a spirituality based on understanding of Jesus as making God known, not in the sense of explanation but as presence and encounter. As a result, to respond to Jesus is in effect to respond to God. Jesus and so God is thus portrayed as the source of life, depicted in the existential imagery of water, bread, light and life. While at one level the high claims about Jesus cause great offence and division, at another level they paradoxically bring Jesus so far into the being of God as to have him disappear, as it were, into the life of God, or at least to be merged into deity, so that to respond to him is in effect to respond to God. This is why in 1 John images of light and life and thus transferred directly to God. While the actions and words of Jesus and not least his death remain significant, the good news he offers is not so much himself nor what he has done, but the 22

See also Mackay, John’s Relationship with Mark, 275.

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God whose person is the good news as the source of light and life and bread and water. In contrast then to the many aspects of exclusion found in John 6, at its heart is a spirituality of universal dimensions: a call to enter into a relationship with the God to whom Jesus points, who is light and life and bread. Those needs are arguably universal as is the answer to which this good news points. The God of Jesus is the God who offers bread and light and life in whatever guise, language, culture or religion, including within the rich cultural traditions of East Asia, even where Jesus as particular bearer and embodiment of that reality may not be known.

11. Soteriology and Spirituality in John 6 A Reflection on Key Issues in Johannine Theology To embark on a discussion of John 6 is to enter a well-ploughed field of scholarly discourse, ranging from theories of composition and redaction, to studies of form, to proposals for its relocation, to reconstructions of Johannine history on the basis of its layers of text. While I acknowledge the validity of such pursuits, the purpose of the present paper is to investigate the text in its final form and to address the understandings of soteriology and spirituality within it. The reason for coupling soteriology with spirituality is that it enables us to look not only at what effects salvation but also at what sustains the relationship thus begun or in Johannine terms how one receives eternal life and how one retains it or better how one continues in an abiding relationship. I use the word spirituality to refer to that ongoing relationship, not to refer to any particular practices in mysticism or otherwise. The paper may well be flawed at its outset in assuming that a coherent understanding can be found in the text. Much of scholarly discussion of what might have produced the layers now discernible in the text depends in part on the identification of tensions if not conflicts which invite such reconstruction. One might argue that the end product is a compilation of diverse strands, which defy attempts to find coherence among them, and that we should be satisfied with claims which would declare that this or that strand is traditional and merely a vestige which the author conservatively retains, even though he himself clearly takes a contrary point of view. This may be so, but at least the attempt should, to my mind, be undertaken to listen to how its early hearers might have heard the whole and to imagine how the final author might have intended it. We do not lack data for such a discussion and have no need to grasp after speculative reconstructions. There are already some clear trends in the text itself and a history of conflict over these matters, which provide a secure starting point. I begin therefore with an overview of two conflicting stances in relation to Johannine soteriology. I will then suggest that not only can one identify strengths on both sides of the argument but that it is possible to suggest that the author and his listeners may well not have perceived such diversity as conflict, and that there are good reasons for supposing this was so.

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Jesus’ Death as Saving Event Let me begin with what I concluded in my discussion of statements about the death of Jesus in my recent book, Jesus in John’s Gospel.1 It seemed to me on the basis of the evidence that not only did the author see the death as a saving event but that he and his listeners will also have seen it in line with tradition as a death for us, for our sins. Reaching this conclusion was far from straightforward. Let me illustrate with a brief consideration of the texts, beginning with a key text in our chapter, namely 6:51b, where the author attributes the following statement to Jesus: “The bread which I shall give is my flesh for the life of the world” (੒ ਙȡIJȠȢ į੻ ੔Ȟ ਥȖઅ įઆıȦ ਲ ı੺ȡȟ ȝȠ઄ ਥıIJȚȞ ਫ਼ʌ੻ȡ IJોȢ IJȠ૨ țંıȝȠȣ ȗȦોȢ). 2 It stands at the head of the section which is best understood as alluding to the Eucharist.3 It depicts the gift of Jesus’ flesh as being given in the Eucharist.4 At one level, one might argue that the giving of his flesh refers therefore primarily to the eucharistic gift, not to his death. To some degree this might find support in 6:27, where Jesus speaks of bread which he as Son of Man will give in future: “Do not work for the food which perishes but for the food which endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you” (ਥȡȖ੺ȗİıșİ ȝ੽ IJ੽Ȟ ȕȡ૵ıȚȞ IJ੽Ȟ ਕʌȠȜȜȣȝ੼ȞȘȞ ਕȜȜ੹ IJ੽Ȟ ȕȡ૵ıȚȞ IJ੽Ȟ ȝ੼ȞȠȣıĮȞ İੁȢ ȗȦ੽Ȟ ĮੁઆȞȚȠȞ, ਴Ȟ ੒ ȣੂઁȢ IJȠ૨ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ įઆıİȚ). This is a future promise not articulated until we reach 6:51b–58,5 where it spoken of as the bread given by Jesus – now again 1

William R. G. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel: Structure and Issues in Johannine Christology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017), 147–202. 2 See my discussion in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 169–71. 3 Cf. Martinus J. J. Menken, “John 6.51c–58. Eucharist or Christology?” in Critical Readings of John 6, ed. R. Alan Culpepper, BIS 22 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 183–204, 185–88. While acknowledging that the author “used a version of the words spoken by Jesus at the Last Supper,” he does not see John alluding to the eucharist in 6:51–58 (p. 189). He points to the difference between bread as flesh and a piece of bread (p. 191). Also see Jan Heilmann, Wein und Blut. Das Ende der Eucharistie im Johannesevangelium und dessen Konsequenzen, BWANT 204 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2014), 238–39, and the critical response by Udo Schnelle, “Symbol und Wirklichkeit. Zu einer notwendigen Bedingung johanneischen Denkens,” ZNT 35 (2015): 59–63. 4 So Udo Schnelle, Das Evangelium nach Johannes, THNT 4 (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2016), 176; Marianne Meye Thompson, John, NTL (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2015), 154; Jean Zumstein, Das Johannesevangelium, KEK 2 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2016), 270; Michael E. Theobald, Das Evangelium nach Johannes. Kapitel 1–12, RNT (Regensburg: Pustet, 2009), 1.477–78; Jörg Frey, “Das Bild als Wirkungspotential: Ein rezeptionsgeschichtlicher Versuch zur Funktion der BrotMetapher in Johannes 6,” in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten. Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. J. Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 381–406, 406. 5 Schnelle, Johannes, 177.

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calling himself the Son of Man – which sustains this life. Given, however, that eucharistic tradition elsewhere implies that these benefits flow from the giving of Jesus’ body and the pouring out of his blood in death, we may also assume that this notion also lies in the background and is assumed by John here in 6:51.6 The reference to his death in 6:51b as “for the life of the world” seems indeed better suited to a reference to his saving death than to his flesh in the Eucharist. 7 It is therefore reasonable to conclude that both allusions are present. The statements about Jesus’ laying down his life (10:11, 15, 17; 15:13) are also not straightforward. When Peter asserts that he would do the same (13:37), the meaning appears to be an affirmation of affection and commitment, even when it should cost death. It must include that aspect when used of Jesus, but it also means much more. Mostly the statements simply affirm that Jesus will lay down his life for his own, without any explanation of why. The exception is in the shepherd discourse, where in 10:17 Jesus declares: “because of this the Father loves me, because I am laying down my life in order that I might take it up again” (ǻȚ੹ IJȠ૨IJં ȝİ ੒ ʌĮIJ੽ȡ ਕȖĮʌઽ ੖IJȚ ਥȖઅ IJ઀șȘȝȚ IJ੽Ȟ ȥȣȤ੾Ȟ ȝȠȣ, ੆ȞĮ ʌ੺ȜȚȞ Ȝ੺ȕȦ Į੝IJ੾Ȟ). Here, surprisingly, the focus is apparently not on benefitting the sheep primarily by his death itself but rather on the fact that his having died enables him to take up his life again, enabling him to continue to be the shepherd of the sheep and indeed summoning other sheep to his fold. This should not, however, be taken as exhausting the author’s understanding of the purpose for Jesus laying down his life, especially in the earlier statements where he depicts himself as the good shepherd laying down his life for the sheep (10:11, 15, 17).8 There the death itself is in focus. At a literal level a shepherd may lose his life trying to protect or rescue his sheep. The owners would surely be grateful, despite the tragedy of the shepherd losing his life,9 but at least the sheep would be safe. What the author clearly intends goes beyond what the analogy can convey, because he affirms that the shepherd returns to life and that the death achieves something beneficial. It may be the intent to suggest that Christ, the shepherd, died vicariously, so that the sheep, the believers, might live, but this is not spelled out, though clearly through his

6

So Schnelle, Johannes, 178; Jörg Frey, “Die ‘theologia crucifixi’ des Johannesevangeliums,” in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten. Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. J. Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 485–554, 531; Ian D. Mackay, John’s Relationship with Mark, WUNT 2.182 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 237–56; cf. J. Terence Forestell, The Word of the Cross, AnBib 57 (Rome: BIP, 1974), 76. 7 See my discussion in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 169–71. 8 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 171–73. 9 Though his death would be a disaster, leaving the sheep without protection, as noted by Ruben Zimmermann, Christologie der Bilder im Johannesevangelium: Die Christopoetik des vierten Evangeliums unter besonderer Berücksichtigung von Joh 10, WUNT 171 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 391.

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death something beneficial accrues. 10 “For the sheep” parallels in that sense “for the life of the world” in 6:51b. John’s listeners would not have heard such statements atomistically, that is, without taking into account what had been said previously and what they knew from tradition. The same open-endedness is present when the Gospel has Jesus declare that no one has greater love than that a man lays down his life for his friends (15:13).11 The expression recurs in 1 John 3:16 where Christ’s laying down his life becomes the basis for exhorting the listeners that they ought to lay down their lives for their fellows, meaning that they should act to bring benefit and relief to those in need. While not applicable to the disciples, the notion of vicarious death is surely presupposed in what is said of Christ, not least because of the greater emphasis on it given by the author of the epistle (e.g., 1:7; 2:1; 3:5; 4:10).12 The notion of Jesus’ vicarious death is present in the account of 10 Zimmermann, Christologie, 394–95, though he argues that the imagery and rest of the Gospel imply that the shepherd’s giving his life is vicarious, an atoning sacrifice; similarly, Andrew T. Lincoln, The Gospel According to Saint John, BNTC 4 (London: Continuum, 2005), 297; Theobald, Johannes, 676–77; Johannes Beutler, Das Johannesevangelium (Freiburg: Herder, 2013), 342; Thomas Knöppler, Die theologia crucis des Johannesevangeliums: Das Verständnis des Todes Jesu im Rahmen der johanneischen Inkarnations- und Erhöhungschristologie, WMANT 69 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1994), 95. Jörg Frey, “Edler Tod – wirksamer Tod – stellvertretender Tod – heilschaffender Tod: Zur narrativen und theologischen Deutung des Todes Jesu im Johannesevangelium,” in Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten. Studien zu den Johanneischen Schriften I, ed. J. Schlegel, WUNT 307 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 555–84, 561–72. He uses the term “wirksamer Tod” (“effective death”) for the notion of noble death (see pp. 564–66 on the extent of the noble death motif in John). On the motif of protecting the sheep see Christine Schlund, “Schutz und Bewahrung als ein soteriologisches Motiv des Johannesevangeliums,” in The Death of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, ed. Gilbert van Belle; BETL 200 (Leuven: Peeters, 2007), 529–36, 533–34. 11 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 176–78. On the common motif of dying in the interests of others as evidence of friendship see Thomas Söding, “Einsatz des Lebens: Ein Motiv johanneischen Soteriologie,” in The Death of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, ed. G. van Belle, BETL 200 (Leuven: Peeters, 2007), 363–84, 363–66. Frey, “Edler Tod,” notes that the notion of vicarious death for others by undergoing death on their behalf is to be distinguished from the motif of an expiatory sacrificial death, even though the two are occasionally linked in tradition, as probably in 1 John 3:16 (pp. 569, 570, 573). He also notes the absence of cultic atonement terminology, including in the Passover typology (p. 582), but sees an expiatory understanding as implied in the use of cultic imagery in 17:19 and 13:10–11 (though there what purifies is the Word), and in the image of Jesus’ body as a temple (p. 583). 12 E.g., Rodney A. Whitacre, Johannine Polemic: The Role of Tradition and Theology, SBLDS 67 (Chico: Scholars, 1982), 157. It may be construed either as a counterbalance to the Gospel’s lack of emphasis on this aspect, as Raymond E. Brown, The Community of the Beloved Disciple (New York: Paulist, 1979), suggests (p. 119); similarly, Raymond E. Brown, The Epistles of John, AB 30 (New York: Doubleday, 1983), 79, or as cause for the redactional additions of the motif within the Gospel. So Fernando F. Segovia, Love Relationships in the Johannine Tradition, SBLDS 58 (Chico: Scholars, 1982), 196; Jürgen

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the high priest’s advice to the Sanhedrin that Jesus should die instead of the nation facing peril through possible Roman suppression (11:50–52; 18:14).13 As the hint at unwitting prophetic inspiration also suggests, the high priest’s statement must mean much more than that literal sense. 14 It includes the effect of gathering God’s people,15 but this, too, is but one aspect of the broader understanding which is implied. While none of these makes explicit mention of dying for sins as the benefit, in 1:29 we do find something more explicit, namely, that he is “the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” (੒ ਕȝȞઁȢ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨ ੒ Į੅ȡȦȞ IJ੽Ȟ ਖȝĮȡIJ઀ĮȞ IJȠ૨ țંıȝȠȣ). This is commonly understood as an allusion to the Passover lamb, especially because of the passion narrative’s deliberate association of the timing of Jesus’ death with the killing of the Passover lambs.16 It then invites the conclusion that here what originally was not understood as a sacrifice for sins, namely the killing of the Passover lambs, has come to be understood in this way by the time of the composition of the Fourth Gospel and so is to be assumed here. This claim is still debated, and the context focuses rather on his status as Messiah than on his taking away sins through his death, but the case for seeing here an allusion to Jesus’ death as for sins in a sacrificial cultic sense does carry considerable weight.17 The evidence that John views Jesus’ death in cultic terms as an atoning sacrifice is otherwise slim, though John does employ cultic terminology at times (e.g., 17:19).18 The much stronger notion is that he dies in order to benefit others, his sheep, his friends, and the world, even if this is not explicated. There is no absence of explication, by contrast, when it comes to use of apocalyptic Becker, Das Evangelium des Johannes, ÖTK 4.1–2 (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1979–1981), 407. Cf. the claim of Udo Schnelle, Antidoketische Christologie im Johannesevangelium. Eine Untersuchung zur Stellung des vierten Evangeliums in der johanneischen Schule (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1987), that the statements about vicarious atonement in John carry significant weight for the author in countering the docetism already evident behind the epistles (p. 256). 13 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 173–75. 14 As sacrifice for sin: Lincoln, John, 297; as vicarious: de Boer, Johannine Perspectives, 233; Söding, “Einsatz des Lebens,” 365–66; Frey, “Edler Tod,” 571–72; as apotropaic: Schlund, “Schutz und Bewahrung,” 533–34; Knöppler, Theologia crucis, 95; as atoning for Israel’s past sins: John A. Dennis, Jesus’ Death and the Gathering of True Israel: The Johannine Appropriation of Restoration Theology in the Light of John 11.47–52, WUNT 2.217 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 72, 116. 15 Cf. Dennis, Death and Gathering, who argues that neither 10:15–16 nor 11:52 refers to Gentiles (pp. 258, 296, 300), but nevertheless admits that the Greeks in 12:20 and 7:35 most likely refer to godfearers (p. 307), and so “the Johannine designation ‘children of God’ allows for an extension beyond its primary referent to ‘Israel’” (pp. 309–10). 16 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 158–66. 17 See Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 149–68. 18 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 181–84; cf. Frey, “Edler Tod,” 575.

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imagery to depict Jesus’ death as the disempowering of the prince of this world (12:31; 16:11, 33), but we do not find this closely linked with the notion of vicarious or beneficial death unless we interpret Passover imagery in apotropaic rather than sacrificial terms. 19 The notion of Jesus’ death as atonement for sins is one element within the much wider range of meanings attributed to Jesus’ death, which can be missed if, as often happens, people read John through a Pauline lens, primarily as vicarious. The death of Jesus means much more, Gospel especially as the hour when he will be “lifted up” on the cross – which appears as shame to the eyes of unfaith and as glory to the eyes of faith – to be glorified, returning and ascending to the Father and to the glory he had before the world began, in order to send the Spirit and so commission the disciples to do greater works than the works he has been doing in making the Father known, by spreading his Word to all the world. Beyond this, the paradox of the suffering being simultaneously “lifted up” to glory also serves as a model for the faith of the disciples. Nevertheless, if we ask how the author would fill in the gaps if asked how Jesus’ dying/laying down his life was understood to bring benefit, I think it is reasonable to assume that he would have spelled this out in soteriological terms informed by Christian tradition, such as in eucharistic tradition, namely that Christ died for us and that this included that he died for our sins and was vicarious in that sense, whether additionally understood as expiatory in a cultic sense or not. Other writings from within the same Johannine milieu – especially 1 John despite its distinctiveness and differences from the Gospel – do provide evidence that such understandings were present in that setting, as noted above. This in itself does not immediately resolve the issues in John, but it does at least reinforce the likelihood that behind the statements about Jesus’ dying for people lie such understandings of his death. Others have pointed out that if at any point we acknowledge the presence of an understanding of Jesus’ death as vicarious, whether in sacrificial terms or not, such as in 1:29 or 6:51b, then it makes good sense to assume that this idea is also in the background in those passages where Jesus’ death is depicted as being for the benefit of others.20 19

Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 162–63. So Frey, who sees 1:29 as atoning and as fundamental for all sayings which follow (“Theologia crucifixi,” 499–501, 531–33); similarly, Frey, “Edler Tod,” 576; Klaus Scholtissek, “‘Eine grössere Liebe als diese hat niemand, als wenn einer sein Leben hingibt für seine Freunde’ (Joh 15,13): Die hellenistische Freundschaftsethik und das Johannesevangelium,” in Kontexte des Johannesevangeliums. Das vierte Evangelium in religions- und traditionsgeschichtlicher Perspektive, ed. Jörg Frey and Udo Schnelle, WUNT 175 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 413–39, 434; Dennis, Death and Gathering, writes: “the burden of proof, I believe, remains squarely on those who argue that Jesus’ death in John’s Gospel has nothing to do with Jewish atonement theology or the elimination of sin” (p. 353). 20

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It is possible, therefore, on the basis of the available data, to conclude that the fourth evangelist sees the death of Jesus as the moment when salvation, forgiveness of sins, was achieved, so that the gift of salvation – or in Johannine terms, eternal life – was made possible. The death of Jesus was, accordingly, in that sense the saving event.

Implications of Jesus’ Death as a Saving Event If we affirm this about Jesus’ death, then certain further conclusions, it would appear, must follow and some of these are far reaching. One quite fundamental corollary would be that wherever the evangelist depicts Jesus before his death as offering eternal life, such offers must be understood proleptically.21 Thus in John 6 this means that we understand Jesus’ claim to be the bread of life as referring to post-Easter reality, indeed always referring to the future, as in 6:27 and 5:51–58, which do use the future tense. It is common to speak of a merging of horizons, but the conclusion would be unavoidable: only the risen Jesus is bread and light and life and offers the water of life. All references to Jesus offering or being these during his ministry must be seen as proleptic, for only because of what is achieved on the cross is such eternal life made possible. Support for this conclusion may be found in those passages where the author makes a distinction between what the disciples understood during Jesus’ ministry and what they understood only after Jesus’ glorification and return to the Father and his sending the gift of the Spirit.22 These Johannine footnotes are well known. In relation to the temple expulsion the evangelist notes: “Thus when he was raised from the dead, his disciples recalled that he said this and believed the scripture and the word which Jesus spoke” (੖IJİ Ƞ੣Ȟ ਱Ȗ੼ȡșȘ ਥț Ȟİțȡ૵Ȟ, ਥȝȞ੾ıșȘıĮȞ Ƞੂ ȝĮșȘIJĮ੿ Į੝IJȠ૨ ੖IJȚ IJȠ૨IJȠ ਩ȜİȖİȞ, țĮ੿ ਥʌ઀ıIJİȣıĮȞ IJૌ ȖȡĮijૌ țĮ੿ IJ૶ ȜંȖ૳ ੔Ȟ İੇʌİȞ ੒ ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȣ) (2:22). Similarly, in relation to Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem he declares: “His disciples did not recognise these things at first, but when Jesus had been glorified, then they recalled that these things 21

So Wilhelm Thüsing, Die Erhöhung und Verherrlichung Jesu im Johannesevangelium, 3rd ed., NTAbh 21 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1979), 14, 161, 164, 171, 321–24; Jörg Frey, Die johanneische Eschatologie I–III, WUNT 96, 110, 117 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997, 1998, 2000), 2.241–46. See also Jörg Frey, Theology and History in the Fourth Gospel: Tradition and Narration (Waco: Baylor, 2018), 143–203; Marianne Meye Thompson, The God of the Gospel of John (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2001), 178; but see now her comment in Thompson, John, that “In writing his Gospel, John aims in part to show that ‘what Jesus is to the faith of the true Christian believer, he was in the flesh’” (13), citing Edwyn C. Hoskyns, The Fourth Gospel, ed. Francis N. Davey (London: Faber and Faber, 1967), 35. While the author is aware of his post-Easter perspective, what he writes of who Jesus was already before Easter he clearly also believes. 22 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 190–93; Frey, Theology, 149–50.

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were written about him and that they did these things to him” (IJĮ૨IJĮ Ƞ੝ț ਩ȖȞȦıĮȞ Į੝IJȠ૨ Ƞੂ ȝĮșȘIJĮ੿ IJઁ ʌȡ૵IJȠȞ, ਕȜȜૅ ੖IJİ ਥįȠȟ੺ıșȘ ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȣ IJંIJİ ਥȝȞ੾ıșȘıĮȞ ੖IJȚ IJĮ૨IJĮ ਷Ȟ ਥʌૅ Į੝IJ૶ ȖİȖȡĮȝȝ੼ȞĮ țĮ੿ IJĮ૨IJĮ ਥʌȠ઀ȘıĮȞ Į੝IJ૶) (12:16). One might also cite the similar comment about timing in relation to Jesus’ promise of drink and of living waters in 7:39, which refers to the gift of the Spirit: “He said this about the Spirit which those who believed in him would receive; for the Spirit was not yet [given], because Jesus had not yet been glorified” (IJȠ૨IJȠ į੻ İੇʌİȞ ʌİȡ੿ IJȠ૨ ʌȞİ઄ȝĮIJȠȢ ੔ ਩ȝİȜȜȠȞ ȜĮȝȕ੺ȞİȚȞ Ƞੂ ʌȚıIJİ઄ıĮȞIJİȢ İੁȢ Į੝IJંȞǜ Ƞ੡ʌȦ Ȗ੹ȡ ਷Ȟ ʌȞİ૨ȝĮ, ੖IJȚ ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȣ Ƞ੝į੼ʌȦ ਥįȠȟ੺ıșȘ). One might also point to those striking formulations which juxtapose future and present, such as 4:23, “But the hour is coming and now is, when the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth” (ਕȜȜૅ ਩ȡȤİIJĮȚ ੮ȡĮ țĮ੿ Ȟ૨Ȟ ਥıIJȚȞ, ੖IJİ Ƞੂ ਕȜȘșȚȞȠ੿ ʌȡȠıțȣȞȘIJĮ੿ ʌȡȠıțȣȞ੾ıȠȣıȚȞ IJ૶ ʌĮIJȡ੿ ਥȞ ʌȞİ઄ȝĮIJȚ țĮ੿ ਕȜȘșİ઀઺). Similarly, it says in 5:25: “Truly, truly I tell you, the hour is coming and now is when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God and those who hear will live” (ਕȝ੽Ȟ ਕȝ੽Ȟ Ȝ੼ȖȦ ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ ੖IJȚ ਩ȡȤİIJĮȚ ੮ȡĮ țĮ੿ Ȟ૨Ȟ ਥıIJȚȞ ੖IJİ Ƞੂ ȞİțȡȠ੿ ਕțȠ઄ıȠȣıȚȞ IJોȢ ijȦȞોȢ IJȠ૨ ȣੂȠ૨ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨ țĮ੿ Ƞੂ ਕțȠ઄ıĮȞIJİȢ ȗ੾ıȠȣıȚȞ). The dual focus accounts also for anachronisms, such as in 3:11: “Truly, truly I tell you, what we know we speak and what we have seen we testify, and you do not accept our testimony” (ਕȝ੽Ȟ ਕȝ੽Ȟ Ȝ੼ȖȦ ıȠȚ ੖IJȚ ੔ Ƞ੅įĮȝİȞ ȜĮȜȠ૨ȝİȞ țĮ੿ ੔ ਦȦȡ੺țĮȝİȞ ȝĮȡIJȣȡȠ૨ȝİȞ, țĮ੿ IJ੽Ȟ ȝĮȡIJȣȡ઀ĮȞ ਲȝ૵Ȟ Ƞ੝ ȜĮȝȕ੺ȞİIJİ). 23 One might add also 3:14–15, referring to the lifting up of the Son of Man, “so that all who believe in him may have eternal life” (੆ȞĮ ʌ઼Ȣ ੒ ʌȚıIJİ઄ȦȞ ਥȞ Į੝IJ૶ ਩Ȥૉ ȗȦ੽Ȟ ĮੁઆȞȚȠȞ),24 and 3:16 taken as a reference to Jesus’ death.25 The use of the title Son of Man in contexts referring to Jesus’ death and its future significance recalls what we saw in 6:27 and 6:51–18, and it is evident also in the reference to the seed bearing fruit in mission after mention

23 Frey, Eschatologie 3, notes the merging of horizons in the last discourses and also in John 3:11 and 9:4a (pp. 254–56, 266, 268, 281). 24 Some see the lifting up of the serpent as alluding to Jesus’ death as expiatory or vicarious: Frey, “theologia crucifixi,” 545–46; Roland Bergmeier, “ȉǼȉǼȁǼȈȉǹǿ Joh 19,30,” ZNW 79 (1988): 281–90, 288; Herbert Kohler, Kreuz und Menschwerdung im Johannesevangelium. Ein exegetisch-hermeneutischer Versuch zur johanneischen Kreuzestheologie, ATANT 72 (Zürich: TVZ, 1987), 258; cf. William R. G. Loader, “John 3:13–15: Re-examining the Exaltation-Glorification-Ascension Nexus in John,” in Expressions of the Johannine Kerygma in John 2:23–5:18. Historical, Literary, and Theological Readings from the Colloquium Ioanneum 2017 in Jerusalem, ed. R. Alan Culpepper and Jörg Frey, WUNT 423 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2019), 51–69, 51–57, 66, in this volume chapter 4, pp. 89–96, 106. 25 Craig S. Keener, The Gospel of John. A Commentary, 2 vols. (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2005), 1.566–70; Schnelle, Johannes, 108–109; J. Ramsey Michaels, The Gospel of John, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 262; Hartwig Thyen, Das Johannesevangelium, HNT 6 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 214: Frey, “Edler Tod,” 582.

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of the hour of the Son of Man’s glorification in 12:23–24. The pattern is repeated in 12:31–34. In effect, to put it starkly, there appear to be grounds for claiming that there was nothing particularly salvific in Jesus’ coming or ministry until the moment of his death,26 and that the author has deliberately developed and composed scenes and discourses and located them within the ministry of the historical Jesus in order to assert and proclaim what became reality only after Easter. This was a work of creativity not without precedent, because we have long since recognized that post-Easter values have also shaped and sometimes led to the invention of scenes now located in narratives of Jesus’ ministry in other Gospels.

Problems with Seeing Salvation in Jesus’ Earthly Ministry as Prolepsis These conclusions are, however, not without their difficulties. Does the evangelist really believe that the pre-Easter Jesus did not offer bread and light and life, and indeed was not able to do so until he became the risen one and had achieved the basis for the gift of eternal life, namely, through the salvific event of his death? Is so much to be explained as simply proleptic? Here it is necessary to address a confusion which can cloud a clear understanding of what was happening. Historically we, for our part, are able to observe that the evangelists, and the fourth evangelist in particular, frequently shaped pre-Easter traditions in the light of post-Easter faith. Sometimes one suspects that this was almost an unconscious process, such as when the first three Gospels depict the entry into Jerusalem without the caveat or qualification which the fourth brings, namely that the disciples came to understand its significance only after Easter. Sometimes the redrawing of the picture was conscious and deliberate. This is surely at times the case with the fourth evangelist who would have been aware to a large degree of creating fictional scenes and dialogues to highlight the fact of what he believed about Jesus as the Word incarnate.27 The key question, then, is: when the authors created fictional scenes and dialogues, to what extent were they doing so on the basis that they knew that they were depicting something that was true only after Easter? Or did they truly believe that Jesus offered the gift of eternal life during his ministry and so 26 Thüsing, Erhöhung, argues that it as of as little interest for the author as how OT saints had life (p. 164). Josef Blank, Krisis. Untersuchungen zur johanneischen Christologie und Eschatologie (Freiburg: Lambertus, 1962), writes in similar terms that the evangelist knew of no proclamation or message of Jesus independent of what the church proclaimed (p. 141). 27 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 393–402.

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elaborated scenes to highlight that this was so? Or was it a combination of the two, namely, awareness of at times creating proleptic claims but believing at other times that their elaborations, including fictional ones, were expounding who Jesus was and what he already offered? It is important therefore that we distinguish between our understanding of the processes of retrojection, on the one hand, and how the author would have understood it, on the other. Would, for instance, the fourth evangelist have applied the footnotes he wrote on the expulsion and entry to the rest of his narrative, and especially the claim that Jesus offered the gift of eternal life, let alone Jesus’ claims about himself? This appears to be unlikely. Rather, he appears more often to imply that Jesus really was what he has him say he was and that he did offer life, but that the disciples failed to comprehend this or comprehend it adequately, except in retrospect after Easter. That is the real import of the footnotes, not that all claims made by Jesus about offering life were proleptic. Indeed, the author states clearly that the Paraclete enabled him (and others) to see the reality about who Jesus was in his ministry. The largely fictional elaborations of traces of earlier tradition are the work of deliberate creativity on the part of the author to depict what he really believed about who Jesus both was and is. In a very broad sense he stands in the tradition of historiography where authors deliberately composed speeches which were consciously not claiming to be reports of what was actually said, but which served to represent the substance of what the historian believed about the figure being described. The author would have been aware of his creativity and would have justified it on the basis that his creative work was designed to highlight who Jesus was and that it was Spirit inspired. In this sense the freelycomposed abstract portrait done by an artist is an apt analogy. Or to change the imagery, the embroidery serves to enhance the image of who Jesus really was. Much that is allegedly proleptic is therefore not proleptic but, according to the author, something that was there at the time and was recognized only in retrospect. Indeed, the author’s whole undertaking is based on his faith that the Spirit has led him and the disciples before him to remember what really was so about the earthly Jesus. In terms of John 6, Jesus really was the bread who came down from heaven and really did offer the bread because he would not only in future offer himself in the Eucharist but was himself in his person already the bread and offering it there and then.

Jesus’ Earthly Ministry as Salvific A thoroughgoing approach, which sees Jesus’ death as the salvific moment and all else as proleptic, therefore faces some serious difficulties. So also, however, does a thoroughgoing approach which denies the significance of Jesus’ death or plays it down, though it, too, has its strengths. One of the least convincing

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attempts to do so was to put the Fourth Gospel into a gnostic redeemer framework, which would see Jesus as the one come to rescue mortals for the heavenly world with promised revelation to awaken the light of the soul, and who exits triumphantly through his death,28 which even if still depicted as human is naïvely docetic. These attempts are understandable in the pre-Qumran era of research, but they fail to do justice to the Gospel. A more sober assessment approaches this issue by reading the Gospel in the light of its Jewish presuppositions, of which we are now so much more aware in the post-Qumran era of research, particularly traditions about Wisdom and Torah.29 The prologue, which has its roots in such traditions, depicts Jesus as the Word with the rather obvious implication that he was communicating something already in his ministry, indeed something which was light and life, and that as the incarnate one he could be seen as bearing the divine glory as the Son of God.30 It is very difficult to dismiss such statements as proleptic. Not only so, but the author is clearly deploying the traditional exposition of divine Wisdom as Torah (which is sometimes compared to manna: e.g., Deut 8:2–3; Wis 16:26; Philo Mut. 253–263)31 when he asserts that not Torah, but Jesus is light and life and truth, indeed, bread (6:32; 5:39). It is difficult to siphon off Jesus’ claims to be light and life and truth as proleptic witnesses to what he would become only after Easter from the author’s clear strategy to depict Jesus as offering what his fellow Jews claimed that Torah offered. Indeed, much of the abstract imagery associated with Jesus’ I am sayings, including those of John 6, derives from what was being claimed about Torah. In light of the Christology with which the author introduces his Gospel, above all in the prologue as the divine Logos/Wisdom, throughout the work in imagery traditionally associated with Logos/Wisdom such as light and life and 28 See the review of research in Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 2–20, including of Bultmann, who sees John employing this model but demythologizing it and Käsemann as using it to depict Jesus’ death as simply his triumphant exit. 29 On this see especially Cornelis Bennema, The Power of Saving Wisdom: An Investigation of Spirit and Wisdom in Relation to the Soteriology of the Fourth Gospel, WUNT 2.148 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002); Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 321–23. 30 William R. G. Loader, “Wisdom and Logos Traditions in Judaism and John’s Christology,” in Reading the Gospel of John’s Christology as Jewish Messianism: Royal, Prophetic, and Divine Messiahs, ed. Benjamin Reynolds and Gabrielle Boccaccini, AJEC 106 (Leiden: Brill, 2018), 303–34, chapter 2 in this volume; William R. G. Loader, “The Significance of the Prologue for Understanding John’s Soteriology,” in The Prologue of the Gospel of John: Its Literary, Theological, and Philosophical Contexts. Papers read at the Colloquium Ioanneum 2013, ed. Jan G. van der Watt, R. Alan Culpepper, and Udo Schnelle, WUNT 359 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 45–55, chapter 7 in this volume; William R. G. Loader, “The Significance of 1:14–18 for Understanding John’s Approach to Law and Ethics,” Review of Rabbinic Judaism 19 (2016): 194–201, chapter 15 in this volume; Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 302–303, 307–308, 309–10. 31 On this see Theobald, Johannes, 462.

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truth, Jesus in his person is the source of salvation. His coming makes the difference, not as in some way breaching the gulf between heaven and earth or the divine and humanity,32 but just as in Jewish tradition Wisdom came to its own and was received or rejected (Sirach 24; 1 Enoch 42). To believe in him, which implies accepting the invitation to embrace the offer of an ongoing relationship with him and through him with God, is what constitutes salvation.33 It is to receive eternal life, in which is embodied both the notion of something lasting and the notion of a qualitative change. The offer of life, variously depicted through a range of images, is at the centre of the good news in John. Forgiveness of sins is not paramount but surely implied. The nature of this offer as something that is ongoing, as birth from above to new life, is why in John soteriology and spirituality are intimately connected. Imagery of sustenance (water, bread, etc.) implies something ongoing.34 Spirituality in contrast simply to soteriology, which is usually focused on a single event, gives expression to the ongoing nature of this relationship. Here it is important to understand that the author is promoting what is structurally parallel to what was being claimed for Torah, namely that one receives life through abiding by Torah in an ongoing relationship with God. John’s notion of soteriology and spirituality is similar, indeed, arguably derived from that model. It is essentially a Jewish paradigm of spirituality, except that the adherence now is not to God via Torah but to God via Jesus, a significant difference. This, in the author’s construction, is on offer both during Jesus’ ministry and now post-Easter through the Spirit. In this sense John’s soteriology is John’s Christology35 and then ultimately, John’s Christology is theology. Those emphasizing Jesus’ life as salvific rightly observe that “It is finished” (19:30) is not about enacting a deed of atonement in his death,36 as those who read it through a Pauline lens conclude, but that it is about finishing the task given him, language already used in 4:34 and 17:4. To finish or complete does not imply that something had been half done and was now needing to be 32 Frey, “Theologia crucifixi,” poses the dilemma whether John sees salvation achieved by his death or by his incarnation (p. 492), but this is too event-centred and not enough focused on the importance of the person who in himself brings salvation because of who he is. 33 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 285; cf. Bergmeier, “ȉǼȉǼȁǼȈȉǹǿ,” 287; Schnelle, Johannes, 290–91. 34 Rudolf Bultmann, Theologie des Neuen Testaments (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1953), emphasizes the existential element (p. 418); similarly Ernst Käsemann, Jesu Letzter Wille nach Johannes 17, 3rd ed. (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1971), 109, 116. 35 Frey, Eschatologie, observes that merged horizons result from the unity which the person of Jesus constitutes (2. p. 297) and historical encounter with him is decisive (3. p. 487). 36 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 187–90.

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brought to a finished state by adding an act of atonement. Rather, it means to do, to fulfil a task, to complete it. Jesus’ death is thus the climax to his ministry of making his Father known and offering eternal life, including the recognition that his ministry climaxes in the rejection of that offer, a moment that passes judgement on the prince of this world by making a clear case for what sin is and what is right (16:8–11). Sin kills the one offering life. Righteousness as persistent love is revealed as the heart of this offer. Statements showing Jesus offering eternal life during his ministry reflect the underlying structure of John’s Christology and are, indeed, far more numerous than the few about his death as vicarious. This was the import of my earlier analysis of frequently occurring statements about Jesus’ purpose, which keep being repeated throughout the Gospel, and which I called the central structure of the author’s Christology.37 It is also noteworthy that especially in the last discourses where one would expect to find emphasis on Jesus’ death as vicarious, if that had been central for the author, it is all but absent, apart from the incidental reference in 15:13. Jesus constantly talks of his death, but as his return to glory and to the Father, and as the moment when he will send the Spirit. The focus is on his having completed his task, as is especially clear in John 17, where this completion of his task is variously described: “I glorified you on earth by finishing the work that you gave me to do (4) … made your name known (6) ... the words that you gave to me I have given to them (8) … I have given them your word (14) … The glory that you have given me I have given them (22) ... I made your name known to them (26).” This is a consistent emphasis throughout the Gospel, which already in the prologue made clear that life comes through the Word for, as it puts it, “he has made the Father known” (1:18). In light of this, some might press the logic in the direction of arguing that if life and light and truth was already present in the person of Jesus, the Word, then his death could not have added and did not need to add to this. 38 It was simply his point of departure to the Father. This is, in substance, the reason why John 17 formed the foundation of Käsemann’s monograph to this effect. 39

37

Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 123–46. E.g., George B. Stevens, The Theology of the New Testament (Edinburgh: Clark, 1889), 224–33; E. F. Scott, The Fourth Gospel: Its Purpose and Theology (Edinburgh: Clark, 1908), 207–12; cf. also Barnabas Lindars, The Gospel of John (London: Oliphants, 1972), who treats it as vestigial tradition (p. 82); and Theobald, Johannes, who sees reference to vicarious atonement as redactional additions (p. 65). Frey, “theologia crucifixi,” sees theological preferences at work among those wanting to downplay the death of Jesus (pp. 492–96; similarly, Frey, “Edler Tod,” 581), but this may be equally so among those who want to stress it. 39 Käsemann, Jesu Letzter Wille. 38

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Dealing with the Tension Implicit denial of the significance of Jesus’ life before his death or implicit denial of the significance of Jesus’ death are two poles of a tension in John and Johannine scholarship.40 Those emphasising the former fail to do justice to what is claimed in John’s Wisdom/Torah inspired Christology and those emphasising the latter are unable to do justice to the evidence suggesting that the author also sees saving significance in Jesus’ death. There is a temptation to tidy up the tension or deny it exists. My suggestion is that it is better to acknowledge it and to acknowledge the validity of what is affirmed on both sides of the debate, and instead to question what in the debate is often being denied.41 John 6 illustrates the tension well. John 6:51–58 must, I believe, be read as having at least an indirect relation to traditions about Jesus’ vicarious death, while at the same time Jesus’ claims to be the bread of life must, I believe, be read as saying something which the author believes about who Jesus is and already was during his ministry. Such tensions are, of course, grounds for proposing stages of composition and redactional additions, but I see it as highly unlikely that the author dismisses one or the other or sees one or the other as mere vestigial tradition carrying no weight.

40

Already William Wrede, Charakter und Tendenz des Johannesevangeliums, 2nd ed. (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1933), while not denying the presence of vicarious atonement in the gospel spoke of the idea of life through the revelation of the word as a concept which had sprouted on a different field (p. 29). Similarly Heinrich J. Holtzmann, Lehrbuch der neutestamentlichen Theologie II, 2nd ed. (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1911), observed that healing and forgiveness through revelation was so complete that it already provided what traditionally was attributed to vicarious atonement (pp. 523–26). de Boer, Johannine Perspectives, observes that “the idea that Jesus’ death is being regarded as a blood sacrifice expiating sins is not clearly discernible in 1:29 and has very little support (in the remainder of the Gospel, including in ch. 19)” (p. 280; cf. p. 234). Also see Francis J. Moloney, The Gospel of John, SP 4 (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1998), 59; Jan G. van der Watt, “Salvation in the Gospel According to John,” in Salvation in the New Testament. Perspectives on Soteriology, ed. Jan G. van der Watt, NovTSup 121 (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 116. David Rensberger, “The Messiah Who Has Come into the World: The Message of the Gospel of John,” in Jesus in Johannine Tradition, ed. Robert T. Fortna and Tom Thatcher (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001), 15–24, concludes “that although John does not emphasize or focus on substitution or sacrifice, there are some insinuations in that direction. However, these references do not come into focus at all. They are secondary to the revelatory function of the cross events” (p. 19). See also Frey, “theologia crucifixi,” who, while emphasizing the centrality of Jesus’ death as saving, acknowledges that expiatory imagery such as we find in 1 John 2:1, is absent in John (p. 522; similarly, Frey, “Edler Tod,” 582). 41 Ferdinand Hahn, Theologie des Neuen Testaments. 2 Bände (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), asserts that both belong together (1 pp. 612–13).

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It is possible that we should stop here and simply acknowledge that the document is contradictory and the author not coherent. That is an option. I have in recent years become more aware that this situation is not unique to John. We see the same to some extent in Matthew, as I have outlined elsewhere.42 Although this tension disputed by some, it is, beyond dispute that it is already apparent in Mark. Both affirm the universal offer of forgiveness in the proclamation of John the Baptist, hardly to be explained away as proleptic, and both affirm that Jesus, already in his ministry, offered forgiveness of sins and spoke of divine forgiveness in response to prayer. Yet both also affirm Jesus’ death as a ransom for many and his blood as poured out for many, and in Matthew it is explicitly for the forgiveness of sins. Significantly, we can observe the same potential tension in the religious matrix of Judaism in which the Jesus movement emerged. People did not see any need to tidy up what might on the surface appear to be irreconcilable opposites. Thus, it was possible to contemplate the death of martyrs or of a suffering servant as vicarious, even as atoning using cultic imagery, while maintaining that God’s forgiveness could be mediated through sacrifice and through prayer. Ultimately what gave unity to such diverse expressions of faith in God’s forgiveness and its appropriation was a belief in the person of God as merciful and forgiving. Theology, an understanding of God, is the key to holding all this together. Might the author of the Fourth Gospel’s appropriation of traditions about Jesus’ death as vicarious have been similarly open-ended? Need he have seen a contradiction between embracing such traditions while at the same time affirming that Jesus offered eternal life through his own person in his earthly ministry? Indeed, the fact that the focus of Johannine soteriology is the offer of the gift of eternal life rather than an act of forgiveness, a much narrower concept, might well have helped him hold both together. In terms of spirituality, we can observe in John 6 a pre- and a post-Easter perspective, in which Jesus is depicted pre-Easter as offering life in his person and post-Easter as offering it in the flesh and blood of the Eucharist, which also mediates his person. Elsewhere the mediation of this life post-Easter is depicted as made possible by the Spirit, again focused primarily on the person of Jesus rather than depicted as a fruit of his vicarious death, though that, too, is present. The continuity is expressed thus in the last discourses where Jesus explains about the gift of the Spirit: “he remains with you and shall be in you” (14:16–17), implying the Spirit was with the disciples in the person of Jesus (as reflected 42 William R. G. Loader, “Tensions in Matthean and Johannine Soteriology Viewed in Their Jewish Context,” in Jesus and Judaism: A Contested Relationship in Context, ed. R. Alan Culpepper and Paul N. Anderson, SBLRBS 87 (Atlanta: SBL, 2017), 175–88, chapter 8 in this volume.

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in1:33–34; 3:34), as he will be with them, indeed in them, after Easter in the person of the Spirit. 43 It is likely that the author sees Jesus’ vicarious death as an important element in his tradition, which he affirms, even though many of his statements about Jesus’ death appear not so much focused on it as a vicarious act to deal with sin, but on its enactment of judgement and revelation and its climax of commitment and completion of a task. It is also important to see his espousal of a Christology which has both become, in itself, soteriological and is the foundation of ongoing spirituality, paralleling a Jewish paradigm of finding life through a relationship with God mediated by Torah. In John 6, but also elsewhere, we see both embedded in the surface of its multilayered text. Ultimately, theology, the understanding of God, made it possible to embrace such diversity.

43 Theophil E. Müller, Das Heilsgeschehen im Johannesevangelium (Zürich: Gotthelf, n.d.; Diss. Bern, 1961), emphasizes the importance of the atoning death, speaks of a unique and unrepeatable situation existing before Easter where life was given through friendship with the earthly Jesus (pp. 25, 33, 80–82, 132).

Ethics

12. What Happened to “Good News for the Poor” in the Johannine Tradition? “Good news for the poor” and the historical Jesus Within the spectrum of possibilities and probabilities in constructing an image of the historical Jesus, the message of “good news for the poor” usually lies at the high probability end of the authenticity scale. It has the support of source texts and coheres with his social context. As James Dunn observes, “the proclamation of the good news to the poor evidently ranked at the forefront of Jesus’ conception of his mission.” 1 Key texts include the beatitudes in what is generally agreed to be their earlier form in which Jesus declares: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God” (Luke 6:20). This stands beside: “Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled” (Luke 6:21a) and “Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh” (Luke 6:21b).2 Timothy Ling argues that Luke’s version is a redactional revision to make the saying more “amenable to his Greco-Roman sensibilities” and the popular notion of reversal of fortune 3 but “the poor” is rooted in Luke’s understanding of the fulfilment of Israel’s aspirations, understood quite concretely as a Jerusalem-based kingdom of God with Jesus as the Messiah. Similarly, the Gospel of Thomas emphasises the poor (54), the hungry (69:2), and the persecuted (68, 69:1. Accordingly, Jesus promised change, a changed situation in which the hungry will be fed. Matthew’s expanded version of these Q sayings arguably preserves the same hope, if we see “poor in spirit” as dispirited. “Poor in spirit” (ʧʥʸ ʩʩʰʲ) is used in this sense to refer to the faithful as needy and disadvantaged, those whom God would help in 1QM/1Q33 XIV, 7 (cf. XIV, 4–8 1QHa VI, 3 but without further elaboration; and on “the poor” see also 1QM/1Q33 XI, 13; XIII, 14; 1QpHab XII, 3, 6, 10; 4QpPsa/4Q171 II, 10; III, 10). The “poor in spirit” are people in poverty, brokenness and need.4 According to Dunn, within the focus 1 James D. G. Dunn, Jesus Remembered, Christianity in the Making 1 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 517. 2 So John P. Meier, A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus; Volume Two: Mentor, Message, and Miracles (New York: Doubleday, 1991), 320. 3 Timothy J. M. Ling, The Judaean Poor and the Fourth Gospel, SNTSMS 136 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 130. 4 So Warren Carter, Matthew and the Margins: A Sociopolitical and Religious Reading (Maryknoll: Orbis, 2000), 131.

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of Jewish understandings of poverty from destitution to helpless dependence on God, Luke focuses on material poverty, whereas Matthew on “focused more on the other end of the spectrum.”5 As indicated by John Nolland, in Matthew those who “hunger” seek justice for themselves or others, while “mourning” does not simply refer to personal grief.6 Already here one must tread cautiously, because traditional interpretations read these as references to humility, hungering to be righteous and being “meek”. John Meier claims that Matthew’s “meekness,” not found in the Lukan beatitudes, also reflects a state of neediness, while the promise of inheriting the “land” coheres with Jesus’ eschatology. 7 The Matthean Jesus’ references to the poor, meekness and mourning is most probably reflect the promise of Isa 61:1. It finds an echo also in another Q tradition, namely Luke 7:22 and Matt 11:5, where, in responding to John the Baptist’s messengers about Jesus’ identity, Jesus responds: “Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have good news brought to them” (ʌIJȦȤȠ੿ İ੝ĮȖȖİȜ઀ȗȠȞIJĮȚ). The saying alludes also to Isa 29:18; 35:5, 6. “The poor” receive the promise of relief also in sectarian documents at Qumran (1Q33/1QM XI, 13; XIII, 14; 1QpHab XII, 3, 6, 10; 4QpPsa/4Q171 II, 10; III, 10), including as ʧʥʸ ʩʩʰʲ (“the poor in spirit”) (1QM/1Q33 XIV, 7). In 4Q521/4QMessianic Apocalypse 2 II + 4 5–13, Isa 61:1 is used to express Israel’s hope, thereby linking Isa 61:1–2 and Ps. 146:7–8, 11Q13/ 11QMelchizedek II, 9–16 links Isa 61:1 with jubilee and Isa 52:7.8 Isaiah 52:7 features also in the Psalms of Solomon, which speak of hope for the poor (11:1; 10:6; 18:2–3). Jesus may have used the jubilee motif, as Freyne suggests, 9 but this leaves no clear trace. Luke exploits the allusion to Isa 61:1 by having Jesus himself utter it in the synagogue at Nazareth at the commencement of his ministry, so that between 4:16–20 and 7:22 Luke can show Jesus fulfilling in deed what he announced and have him declare the beatitudes in his first sermon.10 Arguably, Luke could contrive this pattern because use of Isa 61:1 was deeply rooted in the Jesus tradition. The language of proclaiming good 5

Dunn, Jesus Remembered, 524–25. John H. Nolland, The Gospel of Matthew, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), 203; also Carter, Matthew, 133–34; and Hans Dieter Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1995), 130. 7 Meier, Marginal Jew, 2.334. 8 Dunn, Jesus Remembered, 448; Sean Freyne, Jesus, A Jewish Galilean: A New Reading of the Jesus-Story (London: T&T Clark, 2004), 93; William R. G. Loader, “Poverty and Riches in the New Testament” in Prayer and Spirituality in the Early Church: Vol. V: Poverty and Riches, ed. Geoffrey D. Dunn, David Luckensmeyer and Lawrence Cross (Strathfield: St Paul’s, 2009), 3–35, 10–12. 9 Freyne, Jesus, 48, 118. 10 See Loader, “Poverty and Riches,” 6–7. 6

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news for the poor, perhaps in association with Isa 52:7 (which also refers to proclaiming good news and links it to God’s coming reign, the kingdom of God), is close to the way the earliest sources portray Jesus’ own preaching. The proclamation of good news to the poor coheres with much else in the ministry of Jesus, especially if that promise is seen as something other than simply an announcement of future hope. For Jesus’ proclamation combined future expectation of God’s reign, which God would initiate, with the assertion and demonstration that such change could already come to realisation in the present. Thus Luke 7:22/Matt 11:5 juxtaposes good news to the poor with acts of healing. Sickness and disability were major drivers of poverty. To heal was to bring good news already. John Dominic Crossan has impressively argued that Jesus’ ministry inaugurated good news for the poor in creating communities and networks of healing and commensality.11 This coheres with Jesus’ statements about the kingdom of God already breaking in and being found in the midst of people in his time (Luke 11:20; 17:21). But such instances of the in-breaking of God’s reign cannot be used to claim that Jesus abandoned traditional eschatological expectations of macrochange, much as many moderns might wish he had, and so set himself apart from his mentor, John, and from the faith of his disciples, as we know them from the earliest sources. Most would been realistic enough to see that microchange was not enough. When they resorted to belief in resurrection to explain their experience, the disciples were not parting company with Jesus’ theological framework of expectation but rather were simply applying it. Jesus appears to have expressed himself in this regard in typically Jewish terms of Israel’s restoration, of inheriting the land, and of good news for its poor. Thus Meier concludes that Jesus never divested himself of John’s eschatology, “however much he recycled and reinterpreted this inheritance”12 and even Crossan later concludes, that for Jesus: “it was a present-already and not just an imminentfuture reality” (emphasis original).13 Again, Luke shows us how central this framework of national hope was for his understanding of Jesus when he depicts Jesus as both fulfilling and sustaining the hope of Zechariah, Mary, and Anna, the true and faithful Jews of his origins, that the consolation of Israel was at hand and when Jesus assures his disciples that the timing of God’s restoration of the kingdom to Israel was 11

John Dominic Crossan, The Historical Jesus: The Life of a Mediterranean Jewish Peasant (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1991), 265–302. See also John Dominic Crossan and Jonathan L. Reed, Excavating Jesus: Beneath the Stories, Behind the Texts (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 2002), 126; Freyne, Jesus, 149. cf. Meier, Marginal Jew, 2.332. 12 Meier, Marginal Jew, 2.176; similarly, Ekkehard W. Stegemann and Wolfgang Stegemann, The Jesus Movement: A Social History of Its First Century (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1999), 196. 13 John Dominic Crossan, God and Empire: Jesus against Rome, Then and Now (San Francisco: HarperCollins, 2007), 115.

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in God’s hands (Acts 1:6–8). Luke could do this because he understood his Jesus tradition as depicting Jesus’ message in the context of Israel’s hope. While some have seen Jesus’ announcement of good news for the poor as an announcement to all humanity, this is not its immediate context. Rather it draws inspiration from texts referring to Israel and its plight, especially after return from the exile, and envisages fulfilment as a restored Israel, symbolically expressed in Jesus’ choice of the twelve to match Israel’s twelve tribes (Luke 22:30).14 This announcement is also addressed to his own people, so much so that when the movement expanded it would have to deal with the issues about what going beyond Israel might mean for the substance and promise of the message, a challenge that embroiled the early church in a range of controversial issues such as circumcision and commensality. Both the texts and the contours of lower Galilee, about which so much has emerged in recent years, indicate that he was addressing fellow Jews, many of them probably descendants of Judaean settlement in the region with close links to the homeland15 and probably relatively conservative in their religious devotion, as evidenced by the absence of pig bones and abundance of stone jars in the archaeological remains of their communities.16 If it is inaccurate and historically anachronistic to see in Jesus’ reference to “the poor” an address to “the poor” of all nations, it is equally misleading to suggest with Crossan that Jesus was referring only to the economically poor of his day,17 or even the destitute, arguing that they had no choice but to be itinerant, 18 and appealing to the difference between ʌİȞ઀Į and ʌIJȦȤİ઀Į,19 a difference not reflected in the LXX, let alone the Aramaic, as Ling notes.20 Nor should we conclude with Bruce Malina, that poor refers only to those facing loss of face in an alleged honour/shame culture 21 – a reading that rules out a good many others such as 14 So John P. Meier, Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus; Volume Three: Companions and Competitors (New York: Doubleday, 2001), 148–62. 15 See Amy-Jill Levine, “Theory, Apologetic, History: Reviewing Jesus’ Jewish Context,” ABR 55 (2007): 57–78, 61–63, 68–76; Sean Freyne, “Archaeology and the Historical Jesus,” in Jesus and Archaeology, ed. James H. Charlesworth (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 64–83, 76. 16 Jonathan L. Reed, Archaeology and the Galilean Jesus: A Re-examination of the Evidence (Harrisburg: Trinity, 2002), 43–52; Freyne, “Archaeology,” 76–77; Freyne, Jesus, 82; Crossan and Reed, Excavating Jesus, 165–70. 17 Crossan, Historical Jesus, 270–73. 18 John Dominic Crossan, The Birth of Christianity: Discovering what happened in the years immediately after the execution of Jesus (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1998), 281–83. 19 Crossan, Birth of Christianity, 320–21. 20 Ling, Judaean Poor, 99–101; see also Loader, “Poverty and Riches,” 5–6. 21 Bruce Malina, The New Testament World : Insights from Cultural Anthropology, 2nd ed. (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1993), 103–107; Joel B. Green, The Gospel of Luke, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 211; see Ling, Judaean Poor, 101–109.

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toll collectors, employers in the fishing industry, and Jesus’ own family, who must have belonged to those who were not so destitute and malnourished that someone with Jesus’ level of education could never have emerged. Jesus’ proclamation of good news and the way he enacted that proclamation does not suggest that it was confined to addressing only the destitute. Rather, it seems more coherent to see in “the poor” a reference to the people, Israel, in their need. There is no need to pose alternatives as though “the poor” means Israel irrespective of poverty, as David Seccombe argues, 22 or only the needy within it. “The poor” envisages both: Israel in its need and desire for change and individuals within Israel. There were elite exceptions but these do not invalidate the designation. The well-to-do widow, Judith, could include herself as she prayed to Israel’s God as “God of the lowly, helper of the oppressed, upholder of the weak, protector of the forsaken, savior of those without hope” (Jdt 9:11). Tobit both gave to the poor (1:7, 16; see also 4:16) and longed for the nation’s restoration from affliction and distress (13:9–17). Similarly, Pss. Sol. 10:6 promises that “God will show pity upon the poor (ʌIJȦȤȠ઄Ȣ) to the joy of Israel” (see also 18:2–3). In other words, “the poor,” as Jesus uses the term, are not just the destitute, nor just Israel in some technical sense as the anawim, 23 nor just a group within Israel, as proposed by Brian Capper, noting that Bethany meant “house of the poor” and linking Jesus to Essene strategies for addressing poverty,24 nor the disciples as the later Ebionites, 25 nor only the pious who respond to Jesus. 26 This conclusion coheres with the picture of Israel which Jesus paints in his parables and also fits what the archaeological evidence and social reconstruction shows us: people were poor, 27 but not so desperately poor that the strategy of itinerant ministry and its expectation of local support would not work and not so poor that leadership,

22

David P. Seccombe, Possessions and the Poor in Luke Acts, StNTU B 6 (Linz: Fuchs, 1982), 95. 23 With Robert Guelich, The Sermon on the Mount: A Foundation for Understanding (Waco: Word, 1982), 69; cf. J. David Pleins, “Poor, Poverty,” ABD 5 (1992): 402–14, 411– 13. 24 Brian J. Capper, “Essene Community Houses and Jesus’ Early Community,” in Jesus and Archaeology, ed. James H. Charlesworth (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 472–502, 499; similarly, Ling, Judaean Poor, discussed below. 25 On these see Petri Luomanen, “Ebionites and Nazarenes,” in Jewish Christianity Reconsidered: Rethinking Ancient Groups and Texts, ed. Matt Jackson-McCabe (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), 81–118. 26 As Guelich, The Sermon on the Mount, 67–72; Darrell L. Bock, Luke, 2 vols., BECNT 3 (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1994), 408. 27 Freyne, Jesus, 45–46; Dunn, Jesus Remembered, 517–20.

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like that of Jesus, could not arise.28 The Lord’s Prayer assumes such need.29 Despite the exploitation of the Herodians, it is quite possible that some owed their survival to employment in Antipas’ great building schemes, perhaps including Jesus and his family. It appears, then, that a crucial element in Jesus’ self-understanding was that he came to announce the coming of God’s reign and what it would mean for his people. God’s reign would address the situation of poverty and hunger and oppression, Israel would be restored to its right relationship with God and the land and people would find peace – a situation not infrequently depicted as people coming together in a great feast. What then happened to this “good news for the poor” in the post Easter period? Before we turn to examine what traces of it remain in the Johannine tradition, I want to review briefly what we find elsewhere.

“Good news for the poor” in the post-Easter Period One possibility for the emerging Jesus movement as it moved out into the gentile world would have been to take what Jesus announced as hope for his people and now announce it as hope to all peoples. While this possibility would be consistent with modern sensibilities and expectations, the data do not show that this in fact happened. One might argue that it did not happen because the hopes Jesus raised were dashed and the new movement had to grapple with that fact and did so, as one might expect, by shifting focus from the message to the messenger and from real life to inner or heavenly reality, as its successors would do from time to time over history. This approach would readily explain the apparent absence of concern for the poor in the Johannine literature. But that is not the whole story. There are indications of concern with the needy that extended beyond the Christian community but these are largely incidental (so Acts 3:1–10; 5:16; 9:32–35, 36–42; 10:32–35; 13:6–12; 14:8–10; 19:11–20; but cf. 5:15–16). Apostles and evangelists are not portrayed announcing good news to the poor on the streets of Rome or Corinth. The reason for this seems to be not its failure to eventuate but that this particular hope was understood as very much tied to Israel and Israel’s hope. It is hard to find a broader eschatology which does not in some way connect to Israel. Paul, for instance, does not separate the gentiles’ hope from that of Israel: hope for the gentiles consists in the fact that they have been grafted into Israel (Rom 11:17). In other words, inclusion of the gentiles 28 So David Fiensy, “Leaders of Mass Movements and the Leader of the Jesus Movement,” JSNT 74 (1999): 3–27, 17–18; similarly Levine, “Theory, Apologetic, History,” 64; Reed, Archaeology, 51. 29 So E. and W. Stegemann, Jesus Movement, 206.

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is seen as an aspect of Jewish eschatology. This might already be reflected in Jesus’ parable of the mustard seed, if the “birds” are gentiles (Mark 4:30–32; Luke 13:18–19), but, certainly, as the movement developed, gentiles were seen to have their place by incorporation. If then “good news for the poor” has relevance also for them, it is as they are incorporated into the renewed Israel. This probably accounts for the absence of promise to the poor from accounts of preaching to gentiles in Acts and elsewhere. The prophetic tradition envisaged inclusion of gentiles in some expressions of its hope (Isa 56:6–8; 60:1–3; 61:5–6; 25:6–8; 2:2–4; cf. Mark 4:30–32; Matt 13:31–32; Luke 13:18–19). This appears to inform Luke’s understanding. Good news for the poor remained a promise for Israel, but true Israel is represented in the devout of the gospel’s opening chapters, the thousands of Jews who joined the community at the beginning Acts (2:41; 4:4), and the gentiles newly incorporated. The incorporation of faithful gentiles into Israel is well illustrated in Luke’s eschatology, in which Jesus is depicted as announcing Israel’s hope (4:16–20; 13:33–34; 21:26, 28; see also Justin Martyr Dial. 80), articulated by devout Jews in Luke’s opening chapters (1:50–55, 68–80; 2:25, 38; cf. also 23:51) and later by the disciples, with cautions by Jesus only about its timing (Acts 1:6– 8; cf. also 3:19–21) and what precedes it (Luke 24:21). 30 Neither Luke nor Matthew view Jesus’ rejection by many Jews as a ground for rejecting, let alone replacing, Israel. Mark’s focus is liberation from destructive powers, including those which govern sickness and disability, key drivers of poverty. While recognising the poor widow’s rich piety (12:41–44; cf. 12:40), the imperative of giving to the poor (10:17–22), the incompatibility of loving God and wealth (10:23–31), and the empty fulfilment that wealth offers (8:36–37), Mark submerges hope for the poor in the wider vision, at one point postponed in the interests of hailing its leader (14:3–9). Luke builds on Jesus’ sayings about the rich and poor to apply them now to life within his mixed communities (6:24– 25; 16). Matthew’s expanded beatitudes retain some focus on the needy, as does the parable which brings Jesus’ teaching to a climax, which makes response to needy believers the main criteria for the judgement (25:31–46). 31 Usually the emphasis on love in Matthew falls on not hating enemies and abuse (5:21–48); almsgiving is present (6:1–18), but scarcely central. Eschatology seems more concerned with punishment and reward than with promising change for the needy. Paul confronts the Corinthians about failure to respond to the needy in their midst (1 Cor 11:17–34) and mounts a collection to help the poor among the saints in Jerusalem (Rom 15:26; cf. also Rom 15:25–32; 1 Cor 16:1–4; 2 Cor 30

Loader, “Poverty and Riches,” 7–9. Ulrich Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, 4 vols., EKKNT 1 (NeukirchenVluyn/Zurich, 1985–2002), 3.521–42; Nolland, Matthew, 1022–1037. 31

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8–9; Acts 20:7), possibly the remnant of the resourceless itinerants who had settled there (cf. Acts 2:44–45). See the useful review in Margaret Thrall.32 On the integration of this act of compassion within Paul’s theology, including the fluidity of key terms like “grace” and țȠȚȞȦȞ઀Į, see Dunn.33 Otherwise Paul gives no indication that addressing human poverty, other than acts of kindness in-house, was central to the gospel message (cf. 1 Corinthians 13; Gal 5:22– 23; Rom 12:3–21). Characteristically most exhortations to aid the needy are intramural (cf. also 1 Tim 5:8–10; 6:17–19; Jas 1:9–10; 2:1–9; 5:1–6). Revelation addresses a situation of economic exploitation in Asia Minor and rails against the injustices of Rome and its agents (e.g., 13:16–17), but otherwise has little to say about good news for the poor. It was not that there was no compassion beyond members of the movement, let alone, no mission beyond the renewed and expanded Israel. On the contrary, mission to the gentile world has to be seen as an expression of the will to bring hope and salvation. This now takes the form not of an announcement of good news for the poor because of what God would shortly do, but of salvation in a broader sense. It may not have seemed realistic to stand on the streets of the empire’s cities and proclaim good news for their poor, as Jesus did in Galilee. Perhaps, too, the immensity of the problem inspired some to focus less on concrete change addressing poverty and hunger, and more on promoting a better version of what so many hankered for: a life beyond this life and a life of moral liberation. Keeping some focus on real needs of the poor and hungry, though universally present, would have proved difficult.

“Good news for the poor” and the Johannine Tradition With the above consideration of the message if Jesus and the early church in the backdrop, we now turn to the Johannine tradition. Drawing on earlier tradition, the author or authors of the Johannine tradition have transformed the message of Jesus to become a presentation of himself as now offering what Jews had affirmed was the benefit of Torah: light, life, bread, water, word.34 In effect, so central does Jesus become that to respond to Jesus is to respond to God, so that in a sense the christology is so heightened that Jesus, as it were, 32 Margaret Thrall, II Corinthians: Volume II: VIII–XIII, ICC (London: T&T Clark, 2000), 503–20. 33 James D. G. Dunn, The Theology of Paul the Apostle (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 706–11. 34 So William R. G. Loader, “Jesus and the Law in John,” in Theology and Christology in the Fourth Gospel: Essays by Members of the Johannine Writings Seminar, BETL 184; ed. G. van Belle, J. G. van der Watt, and, P. Maritz (Leuven: Peeters, 2005), 135–54.

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disappears behind it, and we are in effect encountering God, an insight not lost in the doctrinal elaborations of later generations. To respond to this Jesus is to respond to God and so receive life. It is also to belong with all others who similarly respond and also to know oneself as belonging to Israel, to whom God gave Torah to witness to Jesus, who has now come to fulfil all that it foreshadowed and to take its place as the only true bread from above. Despite preserving in its realia of times and places traces of pre-70 tradition, considerably more useful than its Synoptic counterparts, including data relating to the dating of Jesus’ death and the extent and length of ministry, and despite its incorporating Synoptic and Synoptic-like traditions which are sometimes decipherable, the fourth gospel as we have it contains a massive overlay of monochrome christological reflection. The author or authors, with a selfconsciousness about their endeavour not paralleled in the Synoptics, present an avowedly post Easter portrait (2:22; 12:16) for which they claim the Spirit’s inspiration (12:26). This portrait is dominated by Jesus’ self-presentation as the envoy Son who comes to offer life and richly depicted in endless variation in words and images drawn largely from Jewish reflection on Wisdom and Torah, which it claims to succeed.35 Such thoroughgoing artistry renders historical reconstruction beyond the realia highly problematic 36 and makes tracing Jesus’ message of good news for the poor in the fourth gospel a challenging prospect. While the fourth gospel preserves traces of traditional Jewish eschatology, including judgement according to one’s performance of good or evil (5:28–29), and the overthrow of the prince of this world, exposed in the crucifixion, as the one who hates the light (12:31; 16:11), ultimately the hope espoused is reduced to simplicity. It is to follow where the Son has gone and to share his glory. Relief of poverty or hunger or other needs oppressing the people receive no mention. “Good news for the poor” has all but disappeared, at least on the face of it. But, has it? Ling, whose book bears the promising title The Judean Poor and the Fourth Gospel, does not think so, understanding “poor” as a selfappellation of the Johannine community. Employing the resources of the social sciences, Ling disputes the claim that Mediterranean honour-shame culture best explains the New Testament’s social world, including Judaea, appealing to Max Weber’s model of “virtuoso religion,” to assert the importance of active agents.37 As an alternative to sectarian understandings of John Ling proposes that Johannine Christianity is an instance of virtuoso religion, characterised by the “ability to maintain alternative structures which present a reversed image of society whilst remaining within its ideological and institutional 35 William R. G. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel: Structure and Issues (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017). 36 On this see Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 393–420. 37 Ling, Judaean Poor, 11–61.

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boundaries.” 38 Arguing that agrarian Judaea had features seen as conducive to such religion and that the Essenes showed this, he hypothesises that the fourth gospel enables us to see Jesus and his movement as adapting their model and self-appellation, more originally preserved in Matthew as “the poor in spirit.”39 Thus John “does not speak as the Synoptic tradition does of the ptǀchoi, but rather from their immediate cultural context.”40 In support of this claim, Ling speculates that Bethany (“house of the poor”) was an Essene centre; that the upper room was in the Essene quarter of Jerusalem; that the owner of the house, the beloved disciple, was a former disciple of John the Baptist with Essene links; and that references to “the poor” in Mark and John reflect a Judaean context.41 In my view, a specifically Judaean group origin for Jesus’ promise to the poor does not do justice to the Galilean tradition nor to its national scope. Ling’s model helps us to frame possibilities but does not provide additional evidence. More useful is his observation that noting the common purse and associated almsgiving mentioned in John in the context of Judas’ role as treasurer of the disciples is analogous to Essene practice. 42 If “good news for the poor” has all but disappeared in John, it is in good company. Ethics in general seems to have disappeared, leaving us to work very hard to reconstruct or perhaps invent it, on the basis of abstract modelling. The simplification of christology and soteriology to the divine encounter with Jesus as proffering a relationship of life and love carries through to simplification of ethics as loving one another. One may bemoan that such love is intramural and not outwardly focused, but, as noted earlier, this is not atypical of other New Testament witnesses. Here as there, we cannot overlook the love implied in mission to the world, articulated so clearly in John 3:16. If, however, we remain with the dominant theme of loving one another, more particularly brought to expression in what seem to be expansions leading to the currently received text, namely John 15–17 and parts of John 13, it takes little imagination to realise that here the issue of poverty and neediness would have to be highly relevant. Communities served by the fourth gospel would have included poor people – most people in the empire were poor, some, destitute. They would surely have heard the commandment to mutual love as including concern about one another’s well-being. It receives no mention, not because it played no role, but because it was so fundamental it needed no mention. Thus the author’s adaptation of the anecdote of the anointing (John 12:3–8; cf. Mark 14:3–9) still preserves incidentally the quip about always having the poor around and not always having Jesus (12:8) and reflects on Judas’ pseudo38

Ling, Judaean Ling, Judaean 40 Ling, Judaean 41 Ling, Judaean 42 Ling, Judaean 39

Poor, 74. Poor, 78, 112–14, 167. Poor, 181. Poor, 167, 177–79, 199. Poor, 175–79.

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concern for them (12:4–6). It does not dismiss such need but rather sets it in perspective. 43 In doing so, however, it states what people would have seen as obvious; poverty was rife and needed response. It finds its echo in 13:29, where the disciples falsely assume that Judas is off on a normal pursuit with the common purse, purchasing for the group or giving to the poor, 44 perhaps one of those traces of history found only in John. On the claim of Jeremias,45 that Jews gave alms especially at Passover, see the critique of Seccombe and Ling, who is nevertheless left wondering, because in John three Passovers have association with money (2:13–22; 6:5–7; 13:29). 46 Supporting these assumptions about concern for the poor is the way the author of 1 John suddenly becomes quite specific in challenging the notion that one can claim to have God’s love and not respond in compassion to one’s needy brother (3:17). Rather than see this is an isolated example which the author might have supplemented with a range of other ethical misdemeanours, I believe we should see it as an underlying implication running beneath all of his statements about love and hate. The reference to Cain is then not a scholastic allusion to reinforce the principle of averring hate but part of this underlying concern: not to respond to one’s neighbour in need amounts to despising, hating one’s brother, and amounts to murder. Death was real in the context of poverty and still is. This is a powerful statement rather than an intellectual embellishment of an idea. With others, I suspect that the secessionists were among other things rich and were leaving behind the poor. The author tars them with the same brush as those in the world of opulent, self-indulgent, and sexually profligate feasts (2:15–17).47 Perhaps their ideas about Jesus matched ideas their world found more “with it”. Returning to the gospel, are there any other traces of “good news for the poor”? One might argue that the miracles depict a Jesus responding to need, including the kind of need which drove poverty among his people. How much that counted for the author or authors is hard to discern. The focus in the miraculous feeding of the 5000 is no longer the need for physical food, though it is still clearly there, but the symbolism of the bread and the manna. Even the conversation between Jesus and his disciples seems construed to promote Jesus’ divinity rather than to focus on need (6:5–7). In contrast to the synoptics Jesus takes the initiative, but this clearly serves a christological purpose. Karris 43

So Robert J. Karris, Jesus and the Marginalized in John’s Gospel (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1990), 25. 44 Karris, Jesus, 30. 45 Joachim Jeremias, Jerusalem in the Time of Jesus (London: SCM, 1969), 131–34. 46 Ling, Judaean Poor, 175. 47 See William R. G. Loader, “The Significance of 2:15–17 for Understanding the Ethics of 1 John,” in Communities in Dispute: Current Scholarship on the Johannine Epistles: The McAfee Symposium on the Johannine Epistles, ed. Paul N. Anderson and R. Alan Culpepper (Atlanta: SBL, 2014), 223–36, chapter 13 in this volume.

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rightly notes that the response reflects belief that the group did have money and, as in 13:29, would use it not only on their own needs but also for the needy.48 Similarly, the “wow-factor” dominates the healing by distance of the official’s son (4:46–54), rather than response to need. One might see the healings of the lame man in John 5 and the blind beggar in John 9 similarly. In 5:3 the author notes there were many more “invalids – blind, lame, and paralyzed” at the pool, but reports no attempt to help them. But one cannot on the basis of their symbolic elaboration explain away any element of compassion from the miracles entirely, any more than one should read 4:32 as implying Jesus did not eat. But if concern for the poor is there, and I think it is, it is only just there, and largely drowned out by bigger concerns. Karris notes Jesus’ response to the lame man and the blind man49 and discusses references to other marginalised people in John, including the people of the land, 50 outsiders like the Galilean official and the Samaritan woman,51 and women generally. 52 Marginalisation may mean impoverishment, but need not. 53 To conclude, the Jesus of John sounds very different from the historical Jesus. “Good news for the poor” does not feature in depictions of his message. Yet the Johannine literature does reflect the tradition according to which part of the good news is being in mutually supportive communities and 1 John protests vigorously when it is absent. It survives as something much more central than an obligation to charity or alms. But John is further evidence of what appears to have been the standard response to handling Jesus’ message of good news for his people by retaining it as such and for those newly incorporated into it, rather than by transforming it into a universal vision of good news for all independent of that. In that general sense we can see through it something of the historical Jesus. Aside from this, beneath its symbolic overlay and the pious hyperbole of their traditors the healings preserve memory of good news for the poor. Then, incidentally, we have concrete reference to a common purse used for survival and support of the poor, perhaps imagined history but with high probability. Being in this community would, it seems, be good news for the poor.

48

Karris, Jesus, 30. Karris, Jesus, 42–53. 50 Karris, Jesus, 33–41. 51 Karris, Jesus, 54–72. 52 Karris, Jesus, 73–95. 53 On women see also Ling, Judaean Poor, 189–98. 49

13. The Significance of 2:15–17 for Understanding the Ethics of 1 John My initial reaction in returning to 1 John 2:15–17 after investigating attitudes towards sexuality in the New Testament and early Judaism was to see here a reflection of the view expressed in Mark 12:25 and, I believe, presupposed by Paul, that in the age to come there would be no place for sexual desire and sexual relations, for “the world and its desire are passing away” (੒ țંıȝȠȢ ʌĮȡ੺ȖİIJĮȚ țĮ੿ ਲ ਥʌȚșȣȝ઀Į Į੝IJȠ૨) (1 John 2:17). This need not imply a negative stance towards sexual desire in itself as part of God’s creation. It is just that in the age to come it will cease to be. I determined then to test this assumption and, in the process, not only modified it, but found my focus falling on other important aspects of the text and asking what its significance may be for understanding ethics in 1 John.

Examining 1 John 2:15–17 The passage is about more than sexual desire. It may not be about sexual desire at all. Many commentators caution against trying to be specific either way. Thus Judith Lieu writes: “It is probably unnecessary to identify three separate activities among the three phrases – for example, that the desire of the flesh is sexual, the desire of the eyes is covetousness, and the arrogance of life is wealth.”1 My paper will cross that line of caution but with care and on the basis that I believe the triad of vices may have more coherence and specific reference than is usually assumed. I will not revisit here the issue of the genitives IJોȢ ıĮȡțંȢ and IJ૵Ȟ ੑijșĮȜȝ૵Ȟ. With most others I take them to be subjective genitives.2 While ਲ ਕȜĮȗȠȞİ઀Į may derive from IJȠ૨ ȕ઀Ƞȣ, which would give us a third subjective genitive,3 I consider an objective genitive more likely.4 Ultimately,

1

Judith Lieu, I, II, III John (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2008), 95; similarly, Udo Schnelle, Die Johannesbriefe, THNT 17 (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2010), 97; Hans-Josef Klauck, Der erste Johannesbrief, EKK 23.1 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag; Zürich: Benziger Verlag, 1991), 141; Raymond E. Brown, The Epistles of John, AB 30 (Garden City: Doubleday, 1982), 307. 2 Lieu, I, II, III John, 94; Brown, Epistles, 307, 308; John Painter, 1, 2, and 3 John, SP 18 (Collegeville: Liturgical, 2002), 194. 3 So Brown, Epistles, 312. 4 Painter, 1, 2, and 3 John, 192.

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it does not make a lot of difference in this third instance.5 More difficult is the meaning of ਲ ਕȜĮȗȠȞİ઀Į. It is certainly negative. Given its meaning in LXX, it is probably more than simply pride but rather also the kind of pride which boasts and so may carry connotations here of pretentiousness. Raymond Brown notes that ਲ ਕȜĮȗȠȞİ઀Į usually means pretentiousness in classical Greek but in Hellenistic Greek has more the meaning of ostentation as in LXX (2 Macc 9:8; 15:6; Wis 17:7; 4 Macc 8:19; and in relation to wealth: Wis 5:8; see also Jas 4:16).6 He points also to the link with appetite in Hab 2:5.7 I. H. Marshall depicts it as pride in possessions exaggerated in order to impress.8 I agree with those who see IJȠ૨ ȕ઀Ƞȣ here, as in 3:17 (see also Mark 12:44), referring to livelihood, including possessions.9 Robert Yarborough writes of vain and ostentatious pursuit of earthly goods10 and translates: “what the body hankers for and the eyes itch to see and what people toil to acquire.”11 Following the pattern of threes elsewhere, the third item appears to carry special weight. Thus Rudolf Schnackenburg speaks of it as “noch eine Stufe höher.”12 This coheres with the fact that it alone finds an echo in the author’s expressed concerns elsewhere in the letter, to which we shall return. Klaus Wengst argues for a coherence across all three members of the triad, interpreting all three as referring to desire for wealth.13 Some suggest that the first item functions as the summary title, which is unpacked in the two vices which follow.14 There are certainly parallels which might support seeing ਲ ਥʌȚșȣȝ઀Į IJ૵Ȟ ੑijșĮȜȝ૵Ȟ as a reference to greed (Matt 20:15; 6:23; Luke 11:34; Mark 7:22; Eccles 4:8; Sir 14:8), which would sit well with the third item.15 Ruth Edwards writes of the triad as “sensual cravings, ruthless greed, and the 5

So Stephen S. Smalley, 1, 2, 3 John, WBC 51 (Waco: Word, 1984), 85. Brown, Epistles, 311. 7 Brown, Epistles, 312; see also Robert W. Yarborough, 1–3 John (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2008), 132. 8 I. H. Marshall, The Epistles of John (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978), 145; see also Klauck, 1. Johannesbrief, 140; Painter, 1, 2, and 3 John, 194; Ben Witherington, The Indelible Image: The Theological and Ethical Thought World of the New Testament, 2 vols. (Downers Grove: IVP, 2009), 1.509. 9 Brown, Epistles, 312; Rudolf Schnackenburg, Die Johannesbriefe, HTKNT 13.3 (Freiburg: Herder, 1984), 130; Klauck, 1. Johannesbrief, 141. 10 Yarborough, 1–3 John, 132. 11 Yarborough, 1–3 John, 134. 12 Schnackenburg, Johannesbriefe, 130. 13 Klaus Wengst, Der erste, zweite und dritte Brief des Johannes, ÖTKNT 16 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus; Gerd Mohn; Würzburg: Echter Verlag, 1978), 95–97. 14 So Brooke Foss Westcott, The Epistles of St. John (Abingdon: Marcham Manor, 1966; first published London: Macmillan, 1883), 64; Smalley, 1, 2, 3 John, 83; Marshall, Epistle, 146; Witherington, Indelible Image, 1.509. 15 So Werner Vogler, Die Briefe des Johannes, THNT 17 (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1993), 89. 6

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pretentiousness of material success.” 16 Some read “desires of the flesh” as sexual.17 Horst Balz describes the triad as depicting “sexuelles Verlangen, Gier nach macht und Geld.”18 Many have noted that there is also strong parallel support for seeing a sexual reference in ਲ ਥʌȚșȣȝ઀Į IJ૵Ȟ ੑijșĮȜȝ૵Ȟ. The evidence is extensive: 2 Pet 2:14; Matt 5:28–30; Gen 39:7; Num 15:39; 2 Sam 11:2; Prov 6:25; Job 31:1; Sir 9:5, 8; 23:4–6; 26:21; 41:20–21; 1 En. 8:1–2; Jub. 20:4; Jdt 10:4; 16:7–9; LAB 43:5; Sus 7–8, 12, 52–53, 57; Pss. Sol. 4:4–5, 9, 12; CD II, 16; 4Q435 2 I, 1– 2; 4QBerb/4Q287 8 13; 11QTa/11Q19 LIX, 13–14; 1QS/1Q28 I, 6–7; V, 4–5; 1QpHab V, 7; 4QInstrc/4Q417 1 I, 27; T. Reu. 2:4; 3:10; 4:1; 6:1; T. Jud. 17:1; T. Iss. 4:4; T. Benj. 6:2; Philo Sacr. 21; Spec. 3.171.19 Schnackenburg sees sexual reference in both the first two items of the triad.20 Hans-Josef Klauck notes the broadening of ਥʌȚșȣȝ઀Į beyond the concern with possessions which it has in the Decalogue, but argues against limiting the eyes to sexual lust on the basis that flesh is not used negatively in Johannine literature.21 Yarborough sees a range of possible references including the haughtiness of rebellion, blindness, greed,22 “the moral short-sightedness that obscures higher and better realities,” but also “what the eyes itch to see,” including pornography. 23 If we do not consider all three as referring to greed and especially if we see here, as many do, a mini-catalogue of vices,24 or, as I shall argue, an association of vices, then the sexual reference in the second item is likely. If the first item is not a heading, but one of three vices, then we should at least consider whether it might have been understood as having more specific reference. This seems likely. But first we note that most discussions which see here a reference to three vices make no particular connection between them except for the overall observation that they illustrate, for the author, “all that is in the world.” One might even argue with Brown that neither ਲ ਥʌȚșȣȝ઀Į IJોȢ ıĮȡțંȢ nor ਲ ਥʌȚșȣȝ઀Į IJ૵Ȟ ੑijșĮȜȝ૵Ȟ is referring to a vice but simply to an aspect of creation, namely “all that satisfies the needs and wants of human

16

Ruth B. Edwards, The Johannine Epistles (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996),

84. 17

So Schnelle, Johannesbriefe, 96; Vogler, Briefe, 88–89; Marshall, Epistles, 145; Painter, 1, 2, and 3 John, 191; Witherington, Indelible Image, 1.509. 18 Horst Balz, “Die Johannesbriefe,” in Horst Balz and Wolfgang Schrage, Die “Katholischen” Briefe, NTD 10 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1985), 180. 19 See also François Vouga, Die Johannesbriefe, HNT 15.3 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1990), 40. 20 Schnackenburg, Johannesbriefe, 129–30. 21 Klauck, 1. Johannesbrief, 138–41. 22 Yarborough, 1–3 John, 132–33; similar Brown, Epistles, 310. 23 Yarborough, 1–3 John, 133. 24 As Vouga, Johannesbriefe, 40; Klauck, 1. Johannesbrief, 137; but see Vogler, Briefe, 88.

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beings taken as such” of which some are good and some are not.25 1 John criticizes “the desire of the flesh” not primarily because it is sinful in itself but because it is not of the realm of the Spirit.”26 The three are neutral human nature, part of biological life,27 and accordingly the author’s point is the transitoriness of these, along with the rest of the current order, in the light of the approaching eschaton (1 John 2:8, 18; cf. 1 Cor 7:31).28 Similarly, Klauck points to 2:9–11 and the link between 2:8 and 2:18. 29 That might indeed come close to what my first re-reading suggested in relation to sexuality, assuming that is the reference of the second item. These will pass away, so you should not be attached to them. For some it might inspire asceticism, though that is not a necessary consequence,30 at least not as a pattern for all, as both Paul and the Jesus tradition about eunuchs for the kingdom of God show (1 Cor 7:7; Matt 19:12). Since, however, the third item is so clearly negative, it is most unlikely that ਲ ਥʌȚșȣȝ઀Į IJોȢ ıĮȡțંȢ or ਲ ਥʌȚșȣȝ઀Į IJ૵Ȟ ੑijșĮȜȝ૵Ȟ are neutral. They are, after all, “not of the Father,” as the creation would be.31 If they are seen as negative, that still leaves the possibility that the author may see all sexual desire negatively, which would drive another path to asceticism. Once again, the third item suggests that the issue in each is a particular response to something. It is ਲ ਕȜĮȗȠȞİ઀Į in relation to IJȠ૨ ȕ઀Ƞȣ, not ȕ઀ȠȢ in itself. To have livelihood and possessions is not in itself evil; one should share them. Similarly, to be flesh and to have eyes is not in itself evil. Many have noted the distinction between Paul’s dualism and that of the fourth gospel,32 which does not associate flesh with the realm of sin and death but sees it as a level of the divine creation which has worth, not least as the arena of divine testimony to what is to come, but which should now no longer be determinant for the believer, as it is for “the world.” As Georg Strecker notes, being of the world means being ruled by ਥʌȚșȣȝ઀Į.33 Similarly, Lieu writes: “When the author forbids any love of the world, this is not in itself rejection of the accoutrements of a comfortable life, or of social success and its benefits; neither is it a repudiation of anything associated with human bodily existence as if this was by definition something

25

Brown, Epistles, 310. Brown, Epistles, 311. 27 Brown, Epistles, 326. 28 Brown, Epistles, 314; see also Smalley, 1, 2, 3 John, 85; Painter, 1, 2, and 3 John, 194. 29 Klauck, 1. Johannesbrief, 138, 142; cf. Schnackenburg, Johannesbriefe, 130. 30 So rightly Judith Lieu, The Theology of the Johannine Epistles, New Testament Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 54. 31 So Schnackenburg, Johannesbriefe, 128; Lieu, Theology, 54. 32 So Brown, Epistles, 309; Schnackenburg, Johannesbriefe, 4, 128. 33 Georg Strecker, Die Johannesbriefe, KEK 14 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1989), 119. 26

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to be escaped from–although conceivably these might follow.”34 It is weak and transitory, but not evil. It needs to be kept in its proper place. It is this overall view which probably also informs the author of the letter, although his concerns are more strongly ethical. Thus, when he speaks of the flesh and the eyes, we may assume that he would have seen them as God’s creation, including the desires which are naturally part of that creation. What matters is how one responds to them. In 2:16 he addresses inappropriate responses, typical of the world. Aside from some extreme views and the overstatements which belong to rhetoric, the attitude towards ਥʌȚșȣȝ઀Į in both Hellenistic philosophy and its Jewish appropriation in writers such as Philo and the author of 4 Maccabees, but also Paul, is that ਥʌȚșȣȝ઀Į like ʌ੺șȠȢ has its place; it becomes problematic when it is excessive and misdirected. As Kathy Gaca notes, the Pythagoreans held to extreme positions about sexual desire, influencing both Plato and some Stoics. “Showing proper restraint in dietary and sexual behaviour is thus central to Plato’s conception of what it means to be morally responsible.” 35 Unlike the Pythagoreans, however, he set such limits only for the period when couples were childbearing, as little as ten years, and thereafter saw no problem in couples continuing to engage in sexual intercourse right into old age, provided it was not flamboyant or excessive (784e3–785a3 783e4–7, 784b1–3).36 The later, so-called Neopythagoreans, Charondas in Preamble (some time prior to mid 1st cent CE) and Ocellus in The Nature of the Universe (150 BCE) insisted that sex was legitimate only for procreation. Both Seneca (4 BCE–65 CE) and Musonius Rufus (ca 30–102 CE), the Roman Stoics, appear to stand under their influence, which has led to the widespread misconception that procreationism was a Stoic tenet. Gaca writes: “Though both Stoicism and ancient society make procreation central, neither of them limits permissible human sexual activity to reproduction, and hence they are not procreationist.” 37 Of Seneca she observes: “Like Ocellus and Charondas, and unlike any Stoic other than Musonius, he presumes an exclusive disjunction between human sexual activity ‘for the purpose of pleasure’ (voluptatis causa) or ‘for the purpose of reproduction’ (propagandi generis causa).” 38 “It is utterly foreign to Stoicism to contend, as Seneca does, that one must do away with the experience of erotic love except for the reproductive urge within marriage.”39

34

Lieu, I, II, III John, 93. Kathy L. Gaca, The Making of Fornication: Eros, Ethics, and Political Reform in Greek Philosophy and Early Christianity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2003), 34; see also pp. 106–107. 36 Gaca, Fornication, 53, 56, 106. 37 Gaca, Fornication, 97; similarly, pp. 111–12. 38 Gaca, Fornication, 111. 39 Gaca, Fornication, 112. 35

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This stands in contrast to the claims of Dale Martin that Stoic writers of the time promoted passionless sex, which then had only one justification: begetting children.40 As a corrective see also Will Deming, whose assessment of Stoic and Cynic discussion on marriage leads him to conclude that it “is wrong to assert that this excludes love, passion, or romance from marital relations.”41 Similarly, Edward Ellis writes: “Condemnations of sexual desire per se are quite rare. Far more common are, on the one hand, condemnations of sexual immorality (in various forms) and overpowering, excessive, or misdirected desire and, on the other hand, exhortations to self-control.” 42 Actual disapproval of sexual desire and sexual intercourse occurs unambiguously only in the Jewish Sibylline Oracles Book 1 (late first or early second century CE). See also Apoc. Mos. 19:3, according to which the poison sprinkled on the fruit, which Eve ate was ਥʌȚșȣȝ઀Į.43 On Philo, see my detailed discussion.44 Lieu also writes that it was “commonplace in philosophy that desire threatens to overturn the rational mind, and needs to be controlled with regular practice,” citing Thucydides Hist. 6.13; Epictetus Diatr. 2.18; also Ps 106 (LXX 105):14. 45 First John has brought together the Johannine cosmological dualism and mythologization of ‘the world,’ with this separate ethical tradition that also works with a form of dualism, but with one that is more moral and anthropological. However, he does so only here, and it has no further effect on the rest of the letter: there are limited connections with the other uses of ‘flesh,’ ‘eyes,’ and ‘life’ (bios) elsewhere in 1 John (4:2; 1:1; 3:17). 46

Context thus determines whether ਥʌȚșȣȝ઀Į is to be seen as bad and so translated as “lust,” whether in a sexual or non-sexual sense. Westcott spoke of being swayed by passion.47 Similarly Smalley notes that desire like love can go both ways, and be positive or negative 48 and Marshall that “anything in the world 40 Dale B. Martin, “Paul Without Passion: on Paul’s Rejection of Desire in Sex and Marriage,” in Dale B. Martin, Sex and the Single Savior: Gender and Sexuality in Biblical Interpretation (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2006), 65–76; similarly David Fredrickson, “Passionless Sex in 1 Thessalonians 4:4–5,” WW 23 (2003): 23–30. 41 Will Deming, Paul on Marriage and Celibacy: The Hellenistic Background of 1 Corinthians 7, 2nd ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 45. 42 J. Edward Ellis, Paul and Ancient View of Sexual Desire: Paul’s Sexual Ethics in 1 Thessalonians 4, 1 Corinthians 7 and Romans 1, LNTS 354 (London: T&T Clark, 2007), 95. 43 On this see William R. G. Loader, The Pseudepigrapha on Sexuality: Attitudes towards Sexuality in Apocalypses, Testaments, Legends, Wisdom, and Related Literature (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011), 68–77, 336–40. 44 William R. G. Loader, Philo, Josephus and the Testaments on Sexuality: Attitudes towards Sexuality in the Writings of Philo. Josephus, and the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011), 41–45, 56–66, 84–90. 45 Lieu, I, II, III John, 94. 46 Lieu, I, II, III John, 94. 47 Westcott, Epistles, 64. 48 Smalley, 1, 2, 3 John, 82.

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can become the source of sinful desire, even though it is good in itself.”49 In 2:16 it is clearly negative (as in John 8:44 about the devil’s desires). Thus, Yarborough writes of “a quality of desire that is inimical to God’s desire,” degraded desire.50 To return to the triad and its first item, if the third item is specific and the second likely to be heard as referring to sexual lust, might ਲ ਥʌȚșȣȝ઀Į IJોȢ ıĮȡțંȢ have a more specific meaning than is usually supposed? On its own ਲ ਥʌȚșȣȝ઀Į IJોȢ ıĮȡțંȢ really could be applied to many kinds of desires, especially if we see it simply as one of a list of three. Hence the caution about trying to go further. Most attempts to relate the triad to the world of the time do so by seeking out texts which contain verbal parallels or parallel ideas, none of them particularly convincing.51 These include occurrence of the concepts, sometimes as triads in Sir 23:4–6; Jub. 7:20–24; CD IV, 17, Philo Decal. 28, 153; Post. 135; T. Jud. 13:2; 17:1, and Pirke Aboth, but only partially corresponding to the content here. Udo Schnelle notes Philo’s description of ਥʌȚșȣȝ઀Į as the source of all evil (Spec. 4.84–85); Epicurus’ judgement that it disturbs well-being (Plutarch Mor. 449D); and Dio Chrysostom Or. 4.84; and cites Rom 7:7, adding: “Darüber hinausgehende Folgerungen lassen sich kaum ziehen, denn die Trias der hier angeführten Laster findet sich auch in der philosophischen Unterweisung.”52 On suggested analogies with the snake’s pitch to Eve (Gen 3:6), or Satan’s pitch to Jesus in the temptations as no more convincing, see the discussion in Lieu.53 I want to suggest that we should look beyond literary parallels and analogies to social realities of the time to which authors alluded, especially in their attacks on the evils of their day, and in which they saw all three vices concurrently occurring. C. H. Dodd spoke generally of an attack on pagan society as characterised by sensuality; being captive to external things; and proud humbug, sensuality, materialism, and self-glorification.54 Klauck went beyond Dodd in arguing that 2:9–11 shows that the author saw the world as loveless and dominated by hate.55 He notes that Christian exegesis associated sexual profligacy with gluttony and drunkenness as in Sir 23:4–6 and saw the pagan world as characterised by lust, avarice, and pride.56 John Painter reflects on the social situation of the author when he writes: “the language of this third 49

Marshall, Epistles, 144; similarly, Lieu, Theology, 54. Yarborough, 1–3 John, 132; similarly, Strecker, Johannesbriefe, 119. 51 So Schnackenburg, Johannesbriefe, 128. 52 Schnelle, Johannesbriefe, 96–97. 53 Lieu, I, II, III John, 95; similarly, Brown, Epistles, 307–308; Smalley, 1, 2, 3 John, 85. 54 C. H. Dodd, The Johannine Epistles (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1946), 41–42, 50

46. 55

Hans-Josef Klauck, Die Johannesbriefe (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1991), 138. 56 Klauck, Johannesbriefe, 139, 143.

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attitude may well point toward the Greco-Roman cultural challenge to Johannine Christianity … part of the honour culture with which Johannine Christianity was forced to struggle.”57 Peter Jones, noting Ephesus as a possible location, writes that the author “may have been concerned about pagan cults, especially the Egyptian religions of Isis and Serapis as well as imperial cults and activities at the stadium and theatre. Furthermore, the Roman farces in theatres including burlesque revue of song and dance, nudity and obscene subjects (Dio Chrysostom, Alex. 32:4; Apuleius, Met. 10:29–34), and pantomime often involving obscenity.” 58 The likely setting which then suggests itself is the culture of depravity present in the banquets of the rich. There gluttony and drunkenness often went hand in hand with sexual excess. While producing no triadic formulation matching 2:16, Philo cites gluttony/drunkenness, linked with sexual excess and aberration, and the pretentious greed of the wealthy as the three major elements characterising the depraved lifestyle. He regularly associates gluttony, sexual lust, and profligate feasting, where “drunkenness, daintiness, and greediness … causing the cravings of the belly to burst out and fanning them into flame, make the man a glutton, while they also stimulate and stir up the stings of his sexual lusts” (Opif. 158). For strong drink and gross eating accompanied by wine-bibbing, while they awaken the insatiable lusts of the belly, inflame also the lusts seated below it, and as they stream along and overflow on every side they create a torrent of evils innumerable, because they have the immunity of the feast for their headquarters and refuge from retribution. (Spec. 1.192)

“All this the lawgiver observed and therefore did not permit his people to conduct their festivities like other nations, but first he bade them in the very hour of their joy make themselves pure by curbing the appetites for pleasure” (Spec. 1.193; see also QG 2.12; Somn. 2.147; Mos. 2.185). In Flacc. 136 he writes of city clubs “with a large membership, whose fellowship is founded on no sound principle but on strong liquor and drunkenness and sottish carousing and their offspring, wantonness” (Flacc. 136; similarly, Legat. 312; Leg. 2.29, 33; Cher. 92; Agr. 37–38, 160; Spec. 1.148, 150). He lambasts both Xenophon’s and Plato’s symposia for sumptuous indulgence, gluttony, drunkenness, and sexual perversion (Contempl. 53–56), making similar allegations of the people of Sodom in Somn. 1.122–125 and Abr. 133–135, where he writes of “gluttony and lewdness” and “every other possible pleasure” as well as greed, “deep drinking of strong liquor and dainty feeding and forbidden forms of intercourse” (Abr. 135). Philo basically identifies two levels of lust typically as those of the belly and those below it (Spec. 1.192; Spec.

57

Painter, 1, 2, and 3 John, 194. Peter Rhea Jones, 1, 2, 3, John, Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary 29b (Macon: Smyth & Helwys, 2009), 86. 58

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2.163, 195; Leg. 3.114; Deus 15; Mos. 1.28; 2.23–24; QG 1.12; Sacr. 49; Fug. 35; Virt. 182, 208; Somn. 2.147). Excess greed, excess liquor, excess sex go together for Philo.59 Philo is certainly not alone. Already in Sirach we see this connection: “Never dine with another man’s wife, or revel with her at wine” (Sir 9:9; cf. 26:8; 31:25–32:13). Klauck, who mentions Philo’s attack on the boastful rich in Spec. 2.18–19, also cites Petronius Trimalchio in relation to ਲ ਕȜĮȗȠȞİ઀Į.60 Petronius is, however, equally relevant to what I would see as the other two aspects. I cannot here review all the evidence of attacks on such depravity. It is substantial and widespread, including also: Wis 2:6–9 (wine and revelry); 1 En. 46:4–5; T. Mos. 7:1–4; Rom 13:13; 1 Cor 6:10 (greedy drunkards); Gal 5:21 (drunkenness, carousing, and things like these); 1 Pet 4:3. The association of sexual profligacy, wealth and self-indulgence also informs the image of Rome in Rev 17:1–6; 18:3, 9. All this renders it very likely that people hearing the triad would have thought of the places where it most obviously manifested itself: the drunken parties of the profligate. It was standard polemical fare. It is what characterised the world’s life. New Testament vice lists also regularly juxtapose reference to sexual wrongdoing with references to overindulgence in food and wine (Rom 13:13; 1 Cor 6:10; Gal 5:21; 1 Pet 4:3). Thus rather than attacking only lust for wealth, or simply listing three different kinds of vice as separate entities, the author can be seen as depicting life in the world by referring to three aspects which belonged to one of its most commonly attacked settings: the depraved excesses of the rich at their often pretentious banquets. I suggest this as a plausible context for understanding the author’s triad in 2:16. It is clear to me that with one foot behind the line of caution I can go only as far as pointing to this as a very plausible possibility. The strength of the proposal lies in the coherent explanation it can give to the three items and the way it takes into account a widespread social phenomenon of the day and common target of critique. But it remains an hypothesis which at most can claim to make sense of the material but no more.

1 John 2:15-17 and Johannine Ethics If the triad is attacking the abuses of the rich in particular, how might this observation inform our understanding of the ethics of 1 John? Let me approach this in two ways, first by examining the role of the statement in its context and then by considering its significance for the ethical concerns of the epistle.

59 60

See further Loader, Philo, 2–258. Klauck, Johannesbriefe, 141.

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The transition from the twofold set of formally structured addresses to children, fathers, and young men in 2:12–14 to 2:15–17 is not immediately obvious or is at least surprising. 61 John Stott, for instance, writes of 2:15–17 as “a digression about the world.” 62 Why instruct them all not to love the world and its threefold vices, something not repeated elsewhere in an epistle which is forever repeating itself? Perhaps the author is drawing on tradition in 2:15– 17, his own or that of others. Lieu writes of 2:15–17 as a “separate ethical tradition,” which “has no further effect on the rest of the letter: there are limited connections with the other uses of ‘flesh,’ ‘eyes,’ and ‘life’ (bios) elsewhere in 1 John 4:2; 1:1; 3:17).”63 Similarly Jones writes that it “may well be preformulated homiletical fragments or even a précis.” 64 The epistle’s final statement warning against idols (5:21), ringing similarly odd, is a traditional exhortation. Even so, 2:15–17 reflects elements of the author’s style, not least the threefoldness, and of his vocabulary. Lieu notes the distinctive Johannine use of ਥț in the expressions ਥț IJȠ૨ ʌĮIJȡઁȢ ਕȜȜૅ ਥț IJȠ૨ țંıȝȠȣ.65 The transition to 2:18 appears also somewhat odd and unmediated, warning about antichrists of the last times, people who have left the author and his recipients’ community. Both transitions make good sense, however, when we read what is on either side of 2:15–17 in the light of statements which occur later. The third item in the two formal addresses in 2:12–14 receives special emphasis and addresses the young men. In both instances they are told: “you have overcome the evil one” (ȞİȞȚț੾țĮIJİ IJઁȞ ʌȠȞȘȡંȞ). “The evil one” (IJઁȞ ʌȠȞȘȡંȞ) comes to expression in 2:18 as ਕȞIJ઀ȤȡȚıIJȠȢ (“the antichrist”), then applied somewhat creatively to the teaching opponents in the plural: ਕȞIJ઀ȤȡȚıIJȠȚ ʌȠȜȜȠ੿ (“many antichrists”). Equally significant we find an echo of “you have overcome” (ȞİȞȚț੾țĮIJİ) in 5:4–5 “for whatever is born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that overcomes the world, our faith. Who is it that overcomes the world but the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?” (੖IJȚ ʌ઼Ȟ IJઁ ȖİȖİȞȞȘȝ੼ȞȠȞ ਥț IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨ ȞȚțઽ IJઁȞ țંıȝȠȞǜ țĮ੿ Į੢IJȘ ਥıIJ੿Ȟ ਲ Ȟ઀țȘ ਲ ȞȚț੾ıĮıĮ IJઁȞ țંıȝȠȞ, ਲ ʌ઀ıIJȚȢ ਲȝ૵Ȟ. ȉ઀Ȣ į੼ ਥıIJȚȞ ੒ ȞȚț૵Ȟ IJઁȞ țંıȝȠȞ İੁ ȝ੽ ੒ ʌȚıIJİ઄ȦȞ ੖IJȚ ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȣ ਥıIJȚȞ ੒ ȣੂઁȢ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨;). Significantly, we have here the language of overcoming the world. Almost certainly, then, we should see the reference to the young men overcoming the evil one as equivalent to their overcoming the world and, furthermore, we have here an explanation of what this means: confessing Christ aright and not, as I think it means, docetically. The intratextual link with 4:1–6 is also important,

61

See William R. G. Loader, The Johannine Epistles (London: Epworth, 1992), 24–26. John R. W. Stott, The Letters of John, 2nd ed., TNTC (Leicester: IVP; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), 103. 63 Lieu, I, II, III John, 94. 64 Jones, 1, 2, 3, John, 85. 65 Lieu, I, II, III John, 95. 62

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where addressing the IJİțȞ઀Į, again we have themes of overcoming, “you have overcome them” (ȞİȞȚț੾țĮIJİ Į੝IJȠ઄Ȣ), “many false prophets” (ʌȠȜȜȠ੿ ȥİȣįȠʌȡȠijોIJĮȚ), recalling “many antichrists” (ਕȞIJ઀ȤȡȚıIJȠȚ ʌȠȜȜȠ੿) and directly connected to “the spirit of antichrist” (IJઁ IJȠ૨ ਕȞIJȚȤȡ઀ıIJȠȣ) in 4:3, that they “went out into the world” (ਥȟİȜȘȜ઄șĮıȚȞ İੁȢ IJઁȞ țંıȝȠȞ (similarly 2 John 7), and the spirit of antichrist is “already in the world” (ਥȞ IJ૶ țંıȝ૳ ਥıIJ੿Ȟ ਵįȘ). Brown argues that the secessionists loved the world in the sense of John 3:16 and that the author is complaining that in their outreach they have neglected their own.66 The theme of the world continues in 4:4–5, where the author contrasts “the one who is in you” (੒ ਥȞ ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ) with “the one who is in the world” (੒ ਥȞ IJ૶ țંıȝ૳), probably the evil one, and declares that they are “from the world” (ਥț IJȠ૨ țંıȝȠȣ) and that therefore “what they speak is from the world” (ਥț IJȠ૨ țંıȝȠȣ ȜĮȜȠ૨ıȚȞ) and “the world listens to them” (੒ țંıȝȠȢ Į੝IJ૵Ȟ ਕțȠ઄İȚ). The concern is, as in 5:5–6 and in 2:22–23, with rightly confessing Christ. Such texts make the logic of the transitions from 2:13–14 to 2:15–17 and 2:15–17 to 2:18–19 very clear, as Strecker notes in relation to victory over the world and the evil one in 4:4–5; 5:4–5 and 2:14c;67 similarly, Jones, though he misses the connection when he writes of the young men’s conquering as “conceivably of the allures of the world and youthful impulses.” 68 These statements suggest that there is a connection between false christology and the world. That would imply that there is some connection between false christology and ethics, between 2:12–15 and 2:18–27, on the one hand, concerned with christology, and 2:15–17, on the other, with its strong ethical focus on what is “of the world.” Some have indeed seen a nexus between denying Jesus’ full humanity and neglecting the humanity or at least the needs of others. Thus Maarten Menken sees the secessionists as former members who on the basis of their reading of the gospel had developed a view of Jesus as superhuman,69 who see themselves as having “already attained full salvation, and who therefore consider the verification of their faith in everyday reality as not very relevant.” 70 He notes that in this they exhibit some similarity with the docetists of whom Ignatius writes that they not only denied Jesus bore flesh and really suffered (Smyrn. 4:2; 5:2), but also had no interest in love, in the widow, the orphan, the oppressed, the one who is in chains or the one set

66

Brown, Epistles, 324; but see Painter, 1, 2, and 3 John, 191. Strecker, Johannesbriefe, 119. 68 Jones, 1, 2, 3, John, 9, 86. 69 Maarten J. J. Menken, “The Opponents in the Johannine Epistles,” in Empsychoi Logoi – Religious Innovations in Antiquity: Studies in Honour of Pieter Willem van der Horst, ed. Alberdina Houtman, Albert de Jong, and Magda Misset-van de Weg, AJEC 73 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 191–209, 205. 70 Menken, “Opponents,” 206. 67

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free, the one who is hungry or the one who thirsts (6:2). 71 Klauck writes: “Wenn 2,16 die ‘Prahlere mit dem Wohlstand’ anprangiert und 3,17 unterlassene Hilfeleistungen einklagt, dürfte das verraten, dass die einflussreichen und begüterten Leute unter den Gegnern zu suchen sind” 72 and of “soziale Misstände in der Gemeinde.”73 I also argued formerly a connection between neglecting Jesus’ humanity and neglecting that of other community members and that the secessionists belonged on the side of the wealthy.74 The nexus may, however, also be sociological, namely, that those who happen to be wealthy happen also to be more open to a docetic view of Christ, perhaps reflecting exposure to intellectual and philosophical perspectives which found a real incarnation offensive. The author does not, of course, equate the opponents with the world but does claim that the world finds their views more amenable. From the author’s perspective to become amenable to the world in developing christology inevitably makes one amenable to its ethical values, which in 2:15–17 the author deplores. This is probably polemic. The author is not suggesting that 2:15–17 describes the vices of his opponents. There is, however, a connection with 3:17, where he implies that their vice lies in not expressing love for the brothers by not sharing their livelihood with brothers in need. By implication, he tars them with the same brush as the selfindulgent rich of his day. The intensity of this polemic comes to expression also when he confronts their lack of sharing by depicting it effectively as murder in the tradition of Cain. These are very strong statements. Lieu notes the importance of the reference to Cain in the context of the allegation of neglect but then, strangely, sees 3:17 as a weak conclusion.75 If we read 3:17 as the author’s focus in developing the allusion to Cain, it is anything but weak and still has the capacity to challenge people today. It is much in the spirit of applying “Am I my brother’s keeper?” to the issue of social justice and needs to be read against a likely setting where without the support of their richer members the author’s addressees were finding themselves in dire straits The likely background for the author’s ethical concerns is not the kind of middle class morality of today in which appeals to generosity for the needy have their place along with much else but a setting where people lived close to the poverty line. Thus Lieu writes of 3:17 giving us “a glimpse of a real world of poverty and inequality, in the midst of which most early believers lived” 76 and goes on to note the inequalities in early Roman empire, the dependency on handouts and on voluntary associations for support, citing Heb 13:1–3; Jas 2:1–

71

Menken, “Opponents,” 207. Klauck, 1. Johannesbrief, 154. 73 Klauck, Johannesbriefe, 141. 74 Loader, Johannine Epistles, 42, 68. 75 Lieu, I, II, III John, 152. 76 Lieu, I, II, III John, 151. 72

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7 about neglect. Mutual support in Christian communities was probably crucial to people’s survival and understood as part of what the good news entailed, including good news for them, the poor. In this situation wealthier members had a vital role and this had not been fulfilled. The repeated assertion of the need to love the brothers is likely to have this concern in mind throughout the epistle and not just in 3:17. It would surely have come high on the agenda had we been able to ask members what loving one another actually meant in their world. I suspect that references to hate have less to do with offensive emotional attitudes and more to do with not caring for the brothers, which is tantamount to murder, not just in the sense of the original illustration of rage leading to murder but neglect leading to death. It is, of course, intramural but this is typical of how the first Christians appear to have understood Jesus’ message of good news for the poor. It was a promise to God’s people and remains so, and for all who join it, and only in that sense good news for all. The likely social setting which underlies 1 John means that the author can employ formulations which echo those of the last discourses of the gospel, especially what I see as their latest expansions, namely 13:34–35 and 15–17, but unlike there, focus not on the danger of disunity but on the danger of neglect of mutual support for survival. Of course, with regard to ethics, 2:15–17 certainly enables us to say that the author espoused moderate and controlled consumption of food and drink and response to sexual desire, and clearly a rejection of boastful pride about possessions, rather than asceticism, including about sex. The author deploys 2:15–17, however, not primarily to address social evils but to serve a more fundamental concern: to challenge the neglect of the ethical obligation of support for the poor, which appears to underlie the repeated statements about loving the brothers.

14. The Law and Ethics in John’s Gospel This paper will address the significance of the Law in relation to understanding Ethics in the fourth gospel. By “Law” I understand the Torah, with its roots in the Pentateuch, but its branches reaching into everyday life via ongoing interpretive tradition. Torah is of course about much more than ethics, especially if we define the latter primarily in relation to moral behaviour and attitudes. It is about story as much as about stipulations and much of the latter pertains to the cultic and the behaviours appropriate to it. Some or all of the Law may relate to ethics in John, not least if, as Martin Vahrenhorst in the most recent discussion of Torah in John has concluded, the gospel affirms the ongoing validity of the Law.1 For on that basis we could say 1 Martin Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora: Überlegungen zur Bedeutung der Tora im Johannesevangelium,” KD 54 (2008): 14–36, 33–34. For earlier discussions see Severino Pancaro, The Law in the Fourth Gospel: The Torah and the Gospel, Moses and Jesus, Judaism and Christianity According to John, NovTSup 42 (Leiden: Brill, 1975), who sees John as still Torah-observant; J. Louis Martyn, The Gospel of John in Christian History: Essays for Interpreters (New York: Paulist, 1978), who assumes the community continued to be Torah-observant; Raymond E. Brown, The Community of the Beloved Disciple (New York: Paulist, 1979), who speculates that the influx of Samaritans brought a higher christology and an anti-temple stance; Markku Kotila, Umstrittener Zeuge: Studien zur Stellung des Gesetzes in der johanneischen Theologiegeschichte, AASFDHL 48 (Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1988), who attempted to identify attitudes to Torah at various stages of the gospel’s composition; Jerome H. Neyrey, An Ideology of Revolt: John’s Christology in Social-Science Perspective (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1988), who similarly proposed development from conflict over interpretation, to replacement of Israel’s central religious symbols, to a time of schism when “the strong sense of an orderly system symbolized by the temple, its feasts, and cultic objects, which characterized stage two, collapses” (p. 132); Ulrich Luz in Rudolf Smend and Ulrich Luz, Gesetz, Biblische Konfrontationen 1015 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1981), 58–156, who raises the important question whether in the way John treats the Law and Scripture as a whole as mere repositories for testimony and symbolism, they effectively lose reference to their own story it; Michael E. Theobald, Die Fleischwerdung des Logos: Studien zum Verhältnis des Johannesprologs zum Corpus des Evangeliums und zu 1 Joh, NTAbh NF 20 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1988), who argues that the effect of John’s prologue is to place the Law in a vacuum “eine Ent-Wirklichung der Tora” (p. 258) since all its qualities have been transferred to Christ; Martin Scott, Sophia and the Johannine Jesus, JSNTSup 71 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1992), who sees polemical intent in the prologue, contrasting Jesus with the Law; John W. Pryor, John: Evangelist of the Covenant People: The Narrative and Themes of the Fourth Gospel (Downers Grove: IVP, 1992), who rejects polemic, and sees the Law as positive, but superseded by Christ; Ruth B. Edwards, “ȤȐȡȚȞ ਕȞIJ੿ ȤȐȡȚIJȠȢ, (John

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a lot about ethics, because it implies that the gospel affirms not only the Decalogue but the entire biblical law. We might then have something approximating to Matthew, though with a more developed christology, thus with no loss of strokes or letters as Christ’s revelation adds to Moses’ revelation. Then, despite the absence of reference to the Law in the last discourses except for 15:25 (not to speak of the Johannine epistles, except for the reference to Cain), we should assume that as a constant beneath the surface is a bedrock of commitment to Torah, but just not poking through to visibility. My own treatments of John and the Law,2 which Vahrenhorst does not cite, share with him in noting one of the striking realities about the gospel, namely, the way it mentions Jewish practices without any of the kind of disparagement which we meet, for instance, in Mark 7:1–5, Heb 7:18; 10:4; cf. also Rom 2:25– 29. The six stone jars for purification are simply there (2:6),3 though six may suggest incompleteness. The temple is affirmed and defended by Jesus as “my father’s house” (2:16–17).4 Indeed salvation is “from the Jews,” and their

1.16): Grace and the Law in the Johannine Prologue,” JSNT 32 (1988): 3–15, who shows that ਕȞIJ੿ in ȤȐȡȚȞ ਕȞIJ੿ ȤȐȡȚIJȠȢ must mean “instead of/in place” and so indicate replacement of grace; Andreas Lindemann, “Mose und Christus: Zum Verständnis des Gesetzes im Johannesevangelium,” in Das Urchristentum, in seiner literarischen Geschichte: FS J. Becker, ed. Ulrich Mell and Ulrich B. Müller, BZNW 100 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1999), 309– 34, who argues for observant continuity; William R. G. Loader, Jesus’ Attitude towards the Law: A Study of the Gospels, WUNT 2.97 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1997; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 432–91; William R. G. Loader, “‘Your Law’ – the Johannine Perspective,” in “was ihr auf dem Weg verhandelt habt.” Beiträge zur Exegese und Theologie des Neuen Testaments. Festschrift für Ferdinand Hahn zum 75. Geburtstag, ed. Peter Müller, Christine Gerber, and Thomas Knöppler (Neukirchen-Vluyn Neukirchener Verlag, 2001), 63–74; William R. G. Loader, “Jesus and the Law in John,” in Theology and Christology in the Fourth Gospel: Essays by the Members of the SNTS Johannine Writings Seminar, ed. Gilbert van Belle, Jan G. van der Watt, and Pieter Maritz, BETL 184 (Leuven: Peeters, 2005), 135–54, who argues that John no longer assumes Torah observance; and Stefan Schapdick, “Autorität ohne Inhalt: Zum Mosebild des Johannesevangeliums,” ZNW 97 (2006): 177–206, who see the Law still in force but reduced to a vacuum beyond its role in testimony. 2 See the previous note. 3 Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 16. On their likely use for purification of the hands before eating see Roland Deines, Jüdische Steingefäße und pharisäische Frömmigkeit: Ein archäologisch-historischer Beitrag zum Verständnis von Joh 2,6 und der jüdischen Reinheitshalacha zur Zeit Jesu, WUNT 2.52 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1993), 247–51, 263–75; Eyal Regev, “Non-Priestly Purity and Its Religious Aspects According to Historical Sources and Archaeological Findings,” in Purity and Holiness: The Heritage of Leviticus, ed. Marcel J. H. M. Poorthuis and Joshua Schwartz, Jewish and Christian Perspectives Series II (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 223–44, 232. 4 The attack is on merchandising, echoing Zech 14:21 (cf. also Ezek 8:1–18; 9:1–2, 6), not the temple. So Bruce G. Schuchard, Scripture within Scripture: The Interrelationship of Form and Function in the Explicit Old Testament Citations in the Gospel of John, SBLDDS

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temple, not the Samaritans’ is legitimate (4:21–22).5 Jews are not disparaged for avoiding close contact with Samaritans (4:9). Nor is attendance at feasts (2:13–14; 5:1; 6:4; 7:8–9; 12:12),6 purification a week before Passover (11:55)7 (a motif informing the discussion of the foot-washing), the concern with impurity on the eve of Passover (18:31),8 or with leaving a corpse hanging overnight and on the Sabbath (19:31), or Sabbath respect by those engaged in Jesus’ burial (19:40, 42).9 The author even assumes the high priest has a unique gift of prophecy (11:51). None of this suggests anything other than respect for the Law. It coheres with the affirmation in 1:17 that indeed “the Law was given through Moses,” that is, by God. 10 To this positive impression one may add the gospel’s use of the Law as authoritative prediction, as in Philip’s report to Nathanael about Jesus as the one of whom Moses in the Law wrote and the prophets testified (1:45). 11 Indeed, at times the author uses ੒ ȞȩȝȠȢ to refer also to the Psalms (10:34; 12:34). 12 The scriptures are clearly authoritative for John and the Law was an essential component. Only so can they carry weight as testimony to Christ (5:39, 46),13 a role they are called to play not just through citation but more often generically in typology and argumentative engagement over Jesus’ status. 14 133 (Atlanta: Scholars, 1992), 25; Cf. Gale A. Yee, Jewish Feasts and the Gospel of John, Zacchaeus Studies: New Testament (Wilmington: Michael Glazier, 1989), who suggests the attack reflects “fundamental opposition to the temple itself” (p. 62). 5 Where the author identifies these practices as those of “the Jews”, the latter term is neutral, unlike where “the Jews” are depicted rejecting Jesus. 6 Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 17. 7 Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 18. 8 There is however an implied criticism that they are concerned with such observance when they should have been concerned with the impending killing of Jesus, but the Passover with its purity provisions is not being attacked. Note also Nicodemus’ claim that the Jews acted unlawfully in relation to Jesus (7:50–51). 9 Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 18–19. 10 Contrast Rudolf Schnackenburg, The Gospel According to St John: Vol I (London: Burns & Oates, 1968), who understands Moses as the giver (p. 277); cf. also Lindemann, “Mose und Christus,” 332. 11 Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 26; Schapdick, “Autorität ohne Inhalt,” 186. 12 ੒ ȞȩȝȠȢ occurs 7 times in John, linked with Moses (1:17; 1:45; 7:19, 23; cf. Moses alone: 7:22; 5:45–46.; 9:28; cf. 5:39), referring to a provision within the law (7:51; 8:17) or as legal system (18:31; 19:7; cf. also 7:49). “Your law” appears in 8:17; 19:34; similarly 15:25. Scripture is used 5 times in relation to specific predictions (2:22; 7:38; 7:42; 13:18; 17:12; 19:26, 34) and more generally in that sense 5:39 and 10:35. Fulfilment is usually expressed through use of the verb ʌȜȘȡȩȦ (12:38; 13:18; 15:25; 17:12; 19:24, 36); cf. IJİȜİȚȩȦ 19:28. “It is written” functions similarly (2:17; 6:45; 12:14; 12:16; 15:25), but sometimes also in argument about what scripture reports (6:31) or, as Law, requires (8:17). 13 Schapdick, “Autorität ohne Inhalt,” 191. 14 Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 27.

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While observance of the Law is attested without critique and biblical authority assumed, the matter becomes more complex when we turn to particular controversies. Two concern the Sabbath. The author highlights that Jesus both healed a lame man and had him go off home carrying his pallet on the Sabbath (5:8–10, 16). Part of Jesus’ defence employs tradition related to speculation about God’s activity on the Sabbath (Gen 2:3; Exod 20:11).15 But this only works because Jesus asserts that he belongs uniquely to God’s family, and so he is just doing as his Father does. One might see this as Sabbath halakah,16 and certainly it assumes the validity of the Sabbath requirement within the Law at one level,17 but in reality it is a claim to override Sabbath law on the basis of who Jesus is and by implication to justify others’ overriding Sabbath law at his command.18 We meet a similar situation in John 9 where again the author depicts Jesus’ deed on the Sabbath explicitly and probably provocatively as work (9:4; cf. 5:17)19 and justifies overriding Sabbath law on the basis of who he is. Part of the argument in both instances is the unreasonableness of requiring adherence to Sabbath law in face of human need, to the point of ridicule, not of Sabbath law but those who apply it. The effect of the narrative is to say: all this fuss about breaching Sabbath law when someone is healed is ridiculous.20 In both instances we have to weigh whether this means a new very liberal Sabbath halakah21 or either an indirect or direct setting of Sabbath law aside as no longer relevant.

15 Cf. Philo Cher. 86–89; Leg. 1.5–6.; Aristeas 210; Mek. Šabb. 2:25; Gen. Rab. 11.5, 11, 12. Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 21–22. 16 Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 22. Pancaro, Law, 15–19, 29, 45–47. He argues that similarly the charges of blasphemy (5:17–18.; 8:58; 10:24–28; 19:7) rest on invalid assumptions according to the gospel about the relationship of Father and Son (pp. 54–55, 61–65, 74). 17 Hartwig Thyen, Das Johannesevangelium, HNT 6 (Tübingen, Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 394. 18 Andrew T. Lincoln, The Gospel According to Saint John, BNTC 4 (London: Continuum, 2005): “But the dominant way of presenting the clash between Jesus and the law is not to dispute that the law is being rightly interpreted but to see Jesus as an exception to the law because he is above the law” (p. 75). 19 Pancaro, Law, 18–19. 20 Concern about passover purification in 18:28 falls under similar judgement. So Thomas Söding, “Die Macht der Wahrheit und das Reich der Freiheit: Zur johanneischen Deutung des Pilatus-Prozess (Joh 18,28 – 19,16),” ZTK 93 (1996): 35–58, who writes: “Der Evangelist will mit seiner kleinen Notiz daran erinnern, was nach seinem Urteil den meisten Juden letztlich den Zugang zu Jesus versperrt: ihre Treue zum Gesetz, wie sie es verstanden haben” (p. 39). Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” notes that the problem is not ritual purity but not recognising divine will (p. 19). 21 So Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 22–23.

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The closest we come to halakic discussion is in 7:19–24, in which Jesus returns to defend his healing of the lame man. Vahrenhorst finds confirmation here that Jesus (and John) remain committed to biblical law. 22 The gospel does indeed depict Jesus using traditional argumentation: if it is acceptable to circumcise one part of the body on the Sabbath,23 then it must be acceptable to heal a whole body on the Sabbath. 24 There are two main ways of reading this: it does indeed depict Jesus as concerned to justify his action as not inconsistent with the Law, which still matters to him,25 to supplement his claim already that as he is on God’s side he should be free to do such work on the Sabbath anyway and get others to do so; or: his main aim is to expose inconsistency but he has no real interest in justifying himself on the basis of legal halakah, because scripture, including the Law, testifies to his having an authority which is no longer governed by such concerns.26 For the former alternative, “your Law” is in no way distancing, but rather confronting and in other contexts might revert to “our Law.”27 For the latter alternative, “your Law,” might reflect distancing28 and would cohere with a community no longer considering itself bound by the Law, but only by Jesus. 29 A similar issue arises in 10:22–39, where Jesus employs the Law, identified as “your Law,” in this case Ps 82:1, to defend himself against the accusation that he effectively made himself God, when he declared himself and the Father as one (10:30, 33–34). He goes on to show that oneness here means not absolute

22

Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 22. On rabbinic tradition which saw circumcision as healing see t. Šabb. 15, 16; b. Yoma 85b; m. Šabb. 18:3; 19:2–3; m. Ned. 3:11. 24 So Schapdick, “Autorität ohne Inhalt,” 197–98. 25 So Schapdick, “Autorität ohne Inhalt,” 198–99; Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 22. 26 So Jürgen Becker, Johanneisches Christentum (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), who writes: “Der Evangelist lässt Jesus weder hier noch an anderer Stelle von der für Juden normativen Gesetzesbasis her argumentieren, um Verhaltensweisen seiner Person oder der späteren Gemeinde zu begründen. Die apologetische Ausnahme in Joh 7,22f ist im Zusammenhang eines literarischen Rechtsstreites … nur ein Mittel, die Juden uns Unrecht zu setzen, dient jedoch nicht zur Begründung für eine Normgebung, die für Jesu Wirken oder für den joh Geneindeverband Geltung besitzen soll” (p. 185). 27 So Jörg Augenstein, “‘Euer Gesetz’ – Ein pronomen und die johanneische Haltung zum Gesetz,” ZNW 88 (1997): 311–13, points to the way Moses and Joshua address the people speaking of “your God, your fathers, your land” (Deut 2:30; 4:23; Josh 1:11, 13–14). In agreement: Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 424; Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 25– 26; Schapdick, “Autorität ohne Inhalt,” 204. 28 It need not, especially since for the author the Law remains authoritative as a source of prediction, though no longer a basis for ethics. 29 So Lincoln, John, 76; Wolfgang Kraus, “Johannes und das alte Testament. Überlegungen zum Umgang mit der Schrift im Johannesevangelium im Horizont Biblischer Theologie,” ZNW 88 (1997): 1–23, 18. 23

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identity, but includes his total submission to his Father’s will, much the same as in 5:17–30. In asserting that “scripture cannot be abrogated” he is reinforcing his appeal to the psalm in which people are addressed as “gods.” Again, we face the problem of assessing whether this is a serious engagement in hermeneutical debate in which incidentally all scripture, thus including the Law – which he refers to as “your Law” for confrontation but means “our Law” – is declared inviolate,30 or whether this is simply rhetorical device to expose the opposition to ridicule and reassert his christological claim and not serious halakic discussion at all. “Your Law” in 8:17 relates to its requirement of two witnesses, which John then has Jesus use to declare that his two witnesses are himself and his Father. Is this a serious attempt to warrant the latter claim on the basis of their and his Law31 or again, simply a device to reassert it, referring to their Law? 32 It is on the basis of these texts that Vahrenhorst then turns to 1:17, appropriately, since this text needs the wider context if we are to determine its meaning. I think he does so too soon,33 because there is more significant context which he has not considered. Already in relation to the stone jars we noted that the number six may function symbolically to denote incompleteness.34 Given the ancient world’s interest in numerology, I think this is likely. More certain, however, are John’s statements about the temple. For not only does Jesus describe the temple as “my Father’s house” (2:16), he goes on to speak of its destruction and then of his raising it up, by which, as the author explains, he means himself (2:19–22). One might read this as an attempt within the Johannine community to come to terms with the temple’s destruction in 70 CE, but even if it were, its claim is extraordinary: Jesus is the new temple. From the conversation with the Samaritan woman we see that it is much more than that. The Samaritan woman raises the issue of the two competing places of worship, Gerizim and Jerusalem (4:20). Jesus, identifying himself in solidarity with his fellow Jews, declares the Samaritan place invalid and the Samaritans as not knowing what they are worshipping and Jerusalem as valid, as salvation comes from “the Jews” (4:22). On either side of that statement, however, both are set aside, as Jesus declares: “Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem” (4:21) and “But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such 30 So Martin Hengel, “The Old Testament in the Fourth Gospel,” in The Gospels and the Scriptures of Israel, ed. Craig A. Evans and W. Richard Stegner; JSNTSup 104 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994), 380–95, 386. 31 Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 502; Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 25. 32 As already Rudolf Bultmann, Das Evangelium des Johannes, KEK 2 (Göttingen: Vanderhoek & Ruprecht, 1964), 212. 33 As does Lindemann, “Mose,” 330. 34 Francis J. Moloney, The Gospel of John, SP 4 (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1998), 68.

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as these to worship him” (4:23). Gerizim was invalid. Jerusalem was valid; but now neither will have a place. Setting aside the temple like this and replacing it with Jesus as the temple and with worship in spirit and truth is about much more than setting aside a building, because cultic law makes up a substantial part of biblical law. Thus, in relation to such law Jesus has replaced it, not because it is bad, let alone to be despised, but because its time has come. It was God’s gift at the level of the earthly cult. It has now been superseded according to John’s Jesus. 35 Coming in the first chapters of the gospel, this contrast sets the hermeneutical parameters for all that follows, and not least for treatment of the Law.36 Thus the author depicts the earthly Jesus owning the temple as his father’s house, engaging in pilgrimages, undergoing purification, without disparagement or shame, while at the same time being quite clear that all this is now being replaced – by Jesus himself. As Busse and Coloe have shown, the temple motif plays a major role in the gospel, beginning already in the tenting of the Logos in 1:14, 37 through the Bethel allusion in 1:50–51, 38 to the scene at Cana,39 and much more.40 35

Supersessionism is not a stance I espouse in Jewish-Christian relations, but these relations are not helped if I try to deny its presence in John. 36 Mary L. Coloe, God Dwells with Us: Temple Symbolism in the Fourth Gospel (Collegeville: Liturgical, 2001), writes: “A possible reason why the temple cleansing is so early in the Fourth Gospel is because this pericope provides the reader with both an explicit hermeneutical key for interpreting the Johannine Jesus as the new ‘temple’, and a paradigm for further scenes in the use of Johannine symbolism and misunderstandings” (p. 84). 37 Ulrich Busse, Das Johannesevangelium: Bildlichkeit, Diskurs und Ritual, BETL 162 (Leuven: Peters, 2002), 323–66, 332–34; Coloe, God Dwells with Us, 23–27, who writes that “the Gospel presents God’s dwelling in the midst of humanity not by way of Israel’s Torah, but in the humanity of Jesus” (p. 62); earlier; Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John, AB 29 (Garden City: Doubleday, 1966), 32–34. 38 Busse, Johannesevangelium, 336–37; Coloe, God Dwells with Us, 73; Schapdick, “Autorität ohne Inhalt,” 181. 39 Coloe, God Dwells with Us, 69. 40 Among the allusions which Busse, Johannesevangelium, discusses are also the Passover lamb (1:29, 36; 19:14, 36), the well and the water (pp. 341–43), the water flowing from the temple (7:37–39), and the new cult sacrifice (11:47–53). Similarly, Coloe, God Dwells with Us, reads the living water of John 4 in the light of Ezekiel 47 (pp. 94–95). She also notes the contrast between the references to “my father’s house” in 2:16 and 14:2, reflecting the old and new situation (160–61). Busse claims greater importance for the temple than for scripture: “Für das antike Judentum hatten der Temple und sein Kult eine höhere Bedeutung als die Schrift” (p. 329). Similarly Brian D. Johnson, “‘Salvation Is from the Jews’: Judaism in the Gospel of John,” in New Currents through John: A Global Perspective, ed. Francisco Lozada and Tom Thatcher, SBLRBS 54 (Atlanta: SBL, 2006), 83–99, writes: “Jesus is systematically shown throughout the Gospel of John to be taking upon himself the purpose and role of the temple” (p. 90), pointing to the use of the feasts and the depiction of Jesus as Passover lamb (pp. 95–96). including the water imagery of 7:38, on which he writes:

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It is not invalid to ask why such a replacement was necessary and to what extent it implied some negative assessment of the old. There is nothing wrong with six. It is just not seven. Or, more seriously, worship in spirit and truth (4:23–24) is being contrasted with something that is not worship in spirit and truth. This is not a platonic contrast let alone a gnostic one. Nothing suggests that in implying that it was not worship in spirit and truth the old was evil. It was, after all, a significant part of the Law which God gave Moses, so how could it be? The contrast is not bad and good, but good and better. The contrast appears more frequently in John. In 6:32 John has Jesus declare: “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven.” What Moses gave is not disparaged.41 It was manna, earthly food. In contrast God gave the “true bread.”42 Again, as in 4:23–24. we find reference to what is “true”, set over against the earthly which is not at all to be faulted unless one assumes it is to be “true” and abiding in the same sense.43 Later in 6:62 Jesus declares: “It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life.” This comes closest to disparaging the flesh, but this should be seen in the context of what brings true life. For that purpose, the flesh fails. A similar contrast appears in the conversation with Nicodemus where his failure is that he remains at the level of the flesh (3:3, 5–8). The flesh is not evil but to remain with its worship structures and Law when what they foreshadowed has come is evil. We have moved from considering the dualism implicit in contrasting the temples to the dualism in contrasting earthly food and the true food which gives life. I suggest that the move is appropriate and coheres with other contrasts or potential contrasts. John employs the imagery of the feast of tabernacles, poured water, and light, to portray a new pouring of water (7:37–38.; cf. Ezek “This text shows Jesus claiming for himself the role of the temple” (p. 96). in describing John’s relation to Judaism as one of acceptance and rejection, he writes. “While John rejects the particular Jewish understanding of the Jewish institutions, he accepts the institutions themselves. In particular, he understands these Jewish institutions as the appropriate way to describe the identity of Jesus” (p. 98); “this author has interwoven several elements of Judaism and has presented Jesus as the answer to them all” (p. 99); the author is “concerned with a particular way of being a first-century Jew, namely, a Jew who understands Jesus to be the Christ, who sees Jesus as fulfilling both the place and function of the temple and the feasts and who is significantly superior to the prophets, Moses, Jacob, and the other heroes of Israel’s history” (p. 99). The issue is the extent to which we can see this as Torah observant. 41 Cf. Kotila, Zeuge, 170–71. 42 Schapdick, “Autorität ohne Inhalt,” writes: “Mose war der göttliche Vermittler des Überlebens des Volkes Israel in der Wüste. Dies war seine Rolle, nicht mehr und nicht weniger” (p. 194); similarly, Lindemann, “Mose,” 318. 43 The Law cannot liberate (8:32); only the truth embodied in Jesus to which it bears witness can.

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47:1–12; Zech 14:8) and Jesus as the light (8:12; cf. Zech 14:7). 44 True bread, true food, true drink, light, and life, are more, however, than contrasts with earthly elements. For these images were widely used to represent Torah and Wisdom as Torah. To acclaim Jesus in such terms was to attribute to him what Jews were saying about Torah. As Torah might be seen as a well of water (cf. Ps 36:10a; Prov 18:4; Isa 12:2; CD VI, 7), so Jesus now offers the water of life. As Torah could be seen as heavenly manna, so Jesus is the manna from above. Might this mean that John sees Jesus as Wisdom Torah incarnate? This would then be an extension of Jewish symbolism and allegorising, and, as Philo is concerned to emphasise, would not at all mean, that the literal does not remain valid. Already, however, the author’s employment of the temporal dimension in having Jesus replace the temple (and so its cult festivals) appears to rule that out.45 We can now return to the prologue, 46 which is widely recognised as standing in a tradition linked to Proverbs 8, used positively of Israel’s reception of Wisdom as Torah in Sirach 24 and Bar 3:37–4:1, and negatively of its failure to do so in 1 Enoch 42.47 One can read the prologue as intimating that the Logos, traditionally associated with Wisdom, was engaged in creation, entering the created world, then visiting Israel (in the Law and prophets) and begetting children, or similar interpretive variants, and finally becoming incarnate in Jesus,48 even as Torah.49 But even this would have to take some discontinuity 44 On the tradition of carrying water every morning in procession to the temple from Siloam, lighting lamps every evening and on the final day pouring a libation see m. Sukkah 4, and Coloe, God Dwells with Us, 119–22. She writes: “The glory of the God of Israel, revealed in Jesus, permanently leaves the temple. the cultic institutions of Israel are left emptied of the reality they once symbolized and celebrated” (p. 155). “The God of Israel’s festivals has become incarnate in their midst, no longer in symbols or rituals but in the sarx of Jesus” (p. 155). Similarly, Lincoln, John: “For Jewish believers who have been cut off from the celebration of the law’s festivals, what Jesus signifies now fulfils the meaning of these festivals and takes their place” (p. 77). 45 Pancaro, Law, rightly shows that language about keeping the word and the commandments and symbols such as bread, life and light, water, word, once used of Torah, are now used exclusively of Christ (pp. 368–487). 46 The literature is extensive. See my discussion of the christology of the prologue in William R. G. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel: Structure and Issues (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017), 315–31; also, Loader, Jesus’ Attitude towards the Law, 447–51. 47 On this see William R. G. Loader, The Pseudepigrapha on Sexuality Attitudes towards Sexuality in Apocalypses, Testaments, Legends, Wisdom, and Related Literature (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011), 10–11. 48 On this see John Painter, The Quest for the Messiah: The History, Literature and Theology of the Johannine Community, 2nd ed. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1993), 137–62; Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 321–31, 373–77. 49 So Jacobus Schoneveld, “Die Thora in Person: Eine Lektüre des Prologs des Johannesevangeliums als Beitrag zu einer Christologie ohne Antisemitismus,” Kirche und Israel 6 (1991): 40–51.

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into account in relation to the cult. Much more likely is the reading which sees the Logos applied to Jesus and his coming already from 1:5, which describes his shining, so that his coming in Jesus is depicted as entering the world, visiting his own and bearing fruit, becoming flesh, and coming as grace and truth.50 When John then declares: “From his fullness we have all received, one gift of grace in place of another. For the Law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ” (1:16–17), he is celebrating the coming of Jesus not as an addition, but a sequel which on the one hand honours and on the other replaces what has gone before with something even better.51 This is not dependent alone on giving ਕȞIJȚ its usual meaning of “instead of” in ȤȐȡȚȞ ਕȞIJ੿ ȤȐȡȚIJȠȢ, as we should, 52 nor on reading in a į੼ which is not there in the Greek, as we should not.53 For it coheres with all that we have found in the discussion thus far. In 1:14–18 John appears deliberately to echo the depiction

50

So Moloney, John, 38f.; Brown, John, 1.29; Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 63–109. cf. Scott, Sophia, 94–115. In 2 Cor 3:7–4:6 Paul plays in a similar but different way with the motif of glory at Sinai. It is similar in that it makes a contrast between good and better. It also claims through a metaphorical contortion that a veiled reading of the “old covenant” fails to see that it points to Christ. It is different, in emphasising that both ministries reflect divine glory. John mentions glory only of the Son in a manner which effectively lays claim to having in him what Moses sought to see but did not and therefore cannot offer. The Law is almost being portrayed as a compensatory gift in the light of not being allowed to see God’s glory. Kraus, “Johannes und das alte Testament,” notes a similarity to the dual focus of Rom 10:4 that Christ brought the Law to its goal and its end but applies to scripture as a whole (p. 12). 51 Lincoln, John, notes that law was also an expression of YHWH’s grace and truth, but of 1:16–17. writes: “It is rather an assertion on the part of believers in Jesus that now they have seen the fullness of grace and truth in the Logos’ glory, these qualities need no longer be sought in the law” (p. 75). “Knowledge of God through Jesus, therefore, becomes the criterion by which previous knowledge of God through the Mosaic law is to be judged and not vice versa” (p. 75). Thyen, Johannesevangelium, observes: “Das aber müsste – genau genommen – ja heissen, dass auch die Gnadengabe der Tora vom Sinai der Fülle Jesu Christi entstammt” (p. 105). Even so, the new gift replaces the old. See also Kraus, “Johannes und das alte Testament,” 18; Schnackenburg, John I, 277; Francis J. Moloney, Belief in the Word: Reading John 1 – 4 (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 47–48. Thyen also reads 1:18 as implying that John assumes that in 8:56; 12:41; 5:46 it was the Logos, Son, who appeared in Old Testament times (p. 310). 52 So Edwards, “ȤȐȡȚȞ ਕȞIJ੿ ȤȐȡȚIJȠȢ;” in agreement John F. McHugh, John 1–4, ICC (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 64–67; Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 103; Coloe, God Dwells with Us, 28; cf. Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,”: “eine Gnadengabe nach der anderen” (p. 28–29); similarly, Craig S. Keener, The Gospel of John: A Commentary (2 vols; Peabody: Hendrikson, 2005), 1.421. 53 1:17 may sound Pauline but is different. From Paul’s pen, at least his Galatians’ pen, we might expect an adversative particle. Here there is none. The Law is not negative. It is just that what in a sense it compensated for, the vision of God, is now available in his Son.

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of the revelation to Moses in Exodus (cf. Exod 33:7–23; 34:6),54 transferring “grace and truth” to Jesus and, while acknowledging the former revelation of the Law as God’s gift, nevertheless making very clear that only in Christ do we have one who has seen God and can make him known (cf. also 3:13; 5:37; 6:46).55 It is therefore not surprising to find the depictions of Jesus’ parting instructions (and also the Johannine epistles), not making any appeal to biblical law.56 They are indeed a test case for the argument that the Law remains in force for John. Consistently, obedience to the commandments is depicted as keeping the new commandment to love one another as warranted and exemplified by Jesus’ own love for them (13:34–35; 15:9–17). 57 John appears to deal with the discontinuity not by disparaging the old law but by understanding its application, at least with regard to cultic law, as pertaining to the material earthly sphere, depicting it as foreshadowing what was to come

54

On this see Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 30; Schapdick, “Autorität ohne Inhalt,” 182. 55 So Theobald, Fleischwerdung, 259; Schapdick, “Autorität ohne Inhalt,” 183. 56 See Michèle Morgen, “‘Votre Loi, mon commandement’: Etude de la place accordée à la Loi et au commandement dans l’évangile de Jean,” in Raconter, Interpréter, Annoncer. Parcours de Nouveau Testament: Mélanges offerts à Daniel Marguerat pour son 60 ème anniversaire, ed. Emmanuelle Steffek and Yvan Bourquin, MdB 47 (Genève: Labor et Fides, 2003), 195–206 who notes the shift to using nomos in relation to Jews and commandments in relation to disciples and as referring to Jesus’ own commands (pp. 199, 205–206). 57 While the “new” commandment (13:33–34) is like the old (so 1 John 2:7–8), its newness relates to the new situation brought about by Jesus and its christological rationale. Johannes Beutler, “Das Hauptgebot im Johannesevangelium,” in Das Gesetz im Neuen Testament, ed. Karl Kertelge; QD 108 (Freiburg: Herder, 1986), 222–36, 224–25, notes John’s use of covenant language (“keeping the commandments” or “keeping the word”; cf. Deut 7:9), which does not refer to Torah, despite the echo and probable influence of Lev 19:18, but to Jesus’ instructions. The transformation is typical of John’s transformation of the Law. Morgen, “Votre Loi,” writes: “Le commandment d’amour deviant le signe distinctif du groupe autour de Jésus, et non pas la reference à la Loi. Dans la macrostructure narrative du quatrième évangile, on passé de la Loi au commandment nouveau (mon commandment)” (p. 205). Similarly, Johannes Nissen, “Community and Ethics in the Gospel of John,” in New Readings in John. Literary and Theological Perspectives: Essays from the Scandinavian Conference on the Fourth Gospel Arhus 1997, ed. Johannes Nissen and Sigfred Pedersen, JSNTSup 182 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), 194–212: “The new commandment rests on a new reality; the new imperative is based on a new indicative, the love of God in Christ and the love of Christ in his own” (pp. 202–203); R. Alan Culpepper, “Anti-Judaism in the Fourth Gospel as a Theological Problem for Christian Interpreters,” in Anti-Judaism and the Fourth Gospel, ed. Reimund Bieringer, Didier Pollefeyt, and Frederique Vandecasteele-Vanneuville (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001), 61–82, 80; Lincoln, John, 77. Cf. Busse, Johannesevangelium: “Grundsätzlich hat sich also an der Erwählungsliebe Gottes Israel gegenüber nichts geändert” (p. 315).

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and now in Jesus has come, and so no longer to be observed.58 The thought structure has close similarity to Hebrews, though without some of the disparaging elements. The Law and the scriptures as a whole testify to Christ in word and action. That is their remaining role, for which they should be searched (5:39). 59 They function in much the same way as the author has John the Baptist function (1:6–8, 15, 29–34; 3:27–36; 5:33). His role is to bear witness. Now to continue following him, however, is error. The author must see the Law similarly. It serves as witness and in a very broad sense, including as a resource of imagery,60 but now to follow it beyond that when the one has come to whom it bore witness is error, for the new temple and new worship is here.61 In that sense the Law on the Johannine reading predicts its own eclipse

58 Schapdick, “Autorität ohne Inhalt,” insists that the focus is not on abrogating the law or Moses (p. 202) but depicting a new role for Moses. “In der Perspektive des Johannesevangeliums bestimmt sich die Function des Mose bzw. des Mose-Gesetzes im Wesentlichen durch die Zeugenschaft für die Gottesoffenbarung Jesu” (pp. 202–203). It is no longer way to life and salvation but pointer to it (p. 203). “Seine eigentliche Funktion ergibt sich freilich erst in dem Augenblick, in dem die Offenbarung Jesu beginnt. Das Verständnis des Mose-Gesetzes als die Gottesoffenbarung selbst wird ausdrücklich zurückgewiesen” (p. 203). It is now “allein Zeuge und Wegweiser für diese Sendung” (p. 203). Schapdick still argues that Law remains in force, such as in his reading of the Sabbath controversies, but writes: “Spezifische Inhalte des Mose-Gesetzes spielen für das Johannesevangelium fast keine Rolle” (p. 203) and come up only in contexts disputing Jesus’ status (p. 203). “Aufgrund der christologischen Konzentration des Offenbarungsgedanken inkl. der damit verbundenen exklusiven Heilsperspektive zeigt das Johannesevangelium freilich kaum spezifisches Interesse an konkreten Inhalten der Mosesüberlieferung, weder an seiner Person noch an bestimmten Sachinhalten des Mose-Gesetzes” (p. 205). As a result, his “Mosebild” is “relativ inhaltsleer” (p. 206). Transferred to Mosaic Law one wonders if it has not died the death of a thousand qualifications and that it does not make better sense to see it not as still valid though largely ignored except as testimony, but as now like the temple at the core of its content replaced. 59 As such they, or their spokesperson, Moses, will charge the unbelieving Jews with not having believed on the Son to whom they pointed (5:45–47). 60 E.g., as Schapdick, “Autorität ohne Inhalt,” in the use of Moses in 3:14 as “Vorausbild” (p. 189). 61 Culpepper, “Anti-Judaism,” notes that “the Christology of the Fourth Gospel is thoroughly Jewish. It is also disconcertingly anti-Jewish” (p. 72). “The Gospel of John advances two radically different claims; that Jesus was the Messiah who fulfilled the Jewish scriptures, and that apart from their fulfillment in Jesus, central elements of Jewish life and practice are invalid” (p. 72). He continues: “the more Jewish the Christology, the more it is apt to be anti-Jewish. Claims of fulfilment easily mutate into claims of replacement, that is, apart from its fulfilment in Jesus, Judaism is no longer valid” (p. 72). “The effect of this fulfilment/replacement motif is that the gospel declares, by means of various specific illustrations, that Judaism apart from its fulfilment in Jesus has been rendered invalid by his coming” (p. 72).

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by Jesus.62 I think this also tips the balance in favour of seeing the discussion of the Sabbath, not as indicating that John assumes observance of the Sabbath, let alone of Torah as a whole, but as occasions for John to assert his christology and the belief that only obeying Christ matters. In this light we can view what some have seen as adherence to the Decalogue.63 Leaving aside the tenth commandment, we see evidence that the author rejects murder, adultery, theft, and bearing false witness. The same is true in relation to monotheism and idolatry, and respect for parents. No longer being under the Law did not mean that Paul abandoned these values nor others such as rejecting incest, prostitution and same-sex relations, and the same applies in John, but for neither is Torah the basis for developing ethics. As indicated, evidence for Sabbath observance is hard to sustain and this is not contravened by instances of Sabbath observance in the story of the earthly Jesus any more than seeing Jesus as the new temple is contravened by his earthly engagement in the cult. John does not understand the first and greatest commandment as most others Jews would, namely as a commitment to abide by all the provisions of Torah. The “and” between “Law” and “Ethics” in my paper’s title has thus taken on a very small font. On the other hand, to return to Paul as analogy, the author and his community appear to be steeped in Jewish tradition, so that even after having made a painful break with their fellow Jews and asserted the absolute authority of Jesus under God as, I think, God’s gift replacing God’s former gift of the Law, they cannot help but embody formative values of their tradition even at an unconscious level and it is obviously part of their reconstructed identity in cognitive dissonance that they want to believe that they have not really set Torah aside at all except by going where it itself leads, which takes them beyond its authority except as witness.64 Theirs is still the God of Israel, 62

The claim to continuity and to Torah faithfulness clearly matters for the author, but it is substantiated by what in effect is in part a radical discontinuity: Torah’s cultic and related provisions which served to foreshadow Christ can now cease to be observed because what they promised has come. Continue observance denies this. 63 So Jan G. van der Watt, “Ethics and Ethos in the Gospel According to John,” ZNW 97 (2006): 147–76, 152–55. Cf. Jey J. Kanagaraj, “The Implied Ethics of the Fourth Gospel: A Reinterpretation of the Decalogue,” TynB 52 (2001): 33–60, who argues that the plural “commandments” in Jesus’ instruction “implies the individual components of the Law” (p. 59) and so reflects the author’s “belief in the abiding validity of the Law” (p. 60). See earlier George J. Brooke, “Christ and the Law in John 7–10,” in Law and Religion: Essays on the Place of the Law in Israel and Early Christianity, ed. Barnabas Lindars (Cambridge: James Clark, 1988), 102–12. 64 Pancaro, Law, argues that Christian Jews in John’s community would have continued to be Torah-observant, noting that stories of expulsion do not cite Torah observance as an issue (pp. 530–31). I find this unconvincing. It is like arguing that conflict over Torah was not an issue for Mark’s community because it is absent in the passion narrative. Pancaro gives too little attention to temple and purity issues in John 2–4. He argues that there may

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one God, who cares enough to engage Israel and the world, and to provide a model of love, which they now see most impressively expressed in Jesus as the basis for a new commandment enjoining mutual love within their community.65 How they work that out, whether in defensive self-preoccupation and solidarity, in aggressive, even hateful, exchanges with their opponents, in myopic religious loyalty or generous mission must at this point be left to another “and.” Although there are basically two approaches to the question of Torah in John, those who see John as considering that it has having validity only as testimony and as having predicted its own replacement through Christ; and have been laxity in areas like the Sabbath, but John shows no interest in how they kept it nor in the Law as a way of life before Christ (pp. 525–26). When he writes that “all the issues, the Sabbath violations, blasphemy, false teaching, going against the interest of the nation, are traced back to the one great issue: Jesus opposes Torah in the meaning and value given it by traditional Judaism” (p. 505) and that “The Law has fulfilled its function with the coming of Jesus; it has been neither destroyed nor preserved intact, but transformed by being transcended” (p. 450), then this transformed, transcended Torah seems in effect reduced to witness and no longer to function as the rule of life as it does for an observant community. As Udo Schnelle, Das Evangelium nach Johannes, THNT 4 (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1998), observes, for John “das Gesetz gehört auf die Seite der Juden …, die Christen hingegen haben das Stadium einer Gesetzesreligion längst hinter sich gelassen” (p. 43). This is certainly true with regard to its provisions, not, of course, in its continuing role as witness, which remains important for the author, and, he assumes, for his hearers. I would agree against Lindemann, “Mose,” 333, with Jürgen Becker, Das Evangelium des Johannes, 2 vols., ÖTKNT 4/1–2 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlag; Würzburg: Mohn, 1979/1981), that the issue of the Law and grace is “kein innerlicher Streitfall mehr” (1. p. 101) but it clearly matters to the author to reinforce the validity of their particular approach to Torah, which sees its provisions as now superseded, as one of continuity. 65 See van der Watt, “Ethics and Ethos,” who seeks then to develop an ethic of the fourth gospel based on considering behaviours of its participants, its ethos, noting shared social behaviour (p. 152), shared values stemming from the Decalogue (pp. 152–55), the love commandment (pp. 159–66), and the values embodied and sustained in sharing meals, washing feet and engagement in mission (pp. 166–75). In this light it is not clear in what sense he can nevertheless claim that Jesus was not challenging the Law but only their interpretation of it (pp. 156–57). Claiming to replace the temple and what belongs to it is a significant challenge to Torah. van der Watt shows well how it then also no longer forms the basis for Johannine ethics, which reflects more than just difference over interpretation, except in the sense that the Johannine interpretation has interpreted away its continuing validity except as testimony. On the relevance of analogous statements about friendship in Hellenistic and Hellenistic-Jewish ethical discussion, see Klaus Scholtissek, “‘Eine grössere Liebe als diese hat niemand, als wenn einer sein Leben hingibt für seine Freunde’ (Joh 15,13): Die hellenistische Freundschaftsethik und das Johannesevangelium,” in Kontexte des Johannesevangeliums: Das vierte Evangelium in religions- und traditionsgeschichtlicher Perspektive, ed. Jörg Frey and Udo Schnelle, WUNT 175 ( Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 413–39, who notes the gospel’s distinctive emphases grounding friendship in Christ’s selfgiving.

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those who see it still in force, but usually stating that John means upholding Torah as he reads it. Those who espouse the latter position nevertheless acknowledge that Torah is no longer the basis for ethics; Christ is. In this the positions are very close when it comes to the relevance of Torah for ethics in John. In favouring the former position, I want to emphasise that we should expect the community to remain wedded to many of the values and traditions of Torah, even if ideologically it is no longer the alleged basis for ethics. No longer being Torah-observant would not mean that they would suddenly start engaging in intercourse during menstruation, for instance, or start affirming same-sex relations. Paul’s stance is helpful at this point. He makes it more explicit that he expects his readers no longer to be Torah-observant, but he still reflects values which we can trace to his training in Torah and on occasions he points out that living by the love which Christ engenders incidentally (more than) fulfils what Torah demanded (Rom 13:8; Gal 5:14). It mattered to point this out and I think it mattered similarly to John, but that was part of the need to say that having now put Christ in place of Torah they were not abandoning the God of Torah, but rather truly following where they allege it led.

15. The Significance of 1:14–18 for Understanding John’s Approach to Law and Ethics One of the major contributions of recent scholarship, and in particular of Bruce Chilton, to whom this essay is dedicated, has been a more careful and differentiating treatment of the manner in which Jesus and the early Christian movement related to its Jewish matrix. One of the gospels where the issue of that relationship comes to the fore is in dealing with the challenge of discussing ethics in the fourth gospel. This is not least because of its lack of specific ethical teaching on the lips of Jesus aside from the new commandment to love one another.1 At a deeper level behaviours of positive characters provide models which inform ethics at least indirectly, as can imagery.2 There are also judgements made which reflect adherence to such basic ethical norms as the rejection of murder, adultery, theft, and bearing false witness. The resources for Johannine ethics, however, are greatly expanded if we can assume that the author and his community remained Torah observant.3 Then we would be 1 See the important collection of contributions on the topic in Jan G. van der Watt and Ruben Zimmermann (eds.), Rethinking the Ethics of John: “Implicit Ethics” in the Johannine Writings, CCNTE 3, WUNT 291 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012) and the two introductory papers which highlight the problem: Michael Labahn, “‘It’s Only Love’ – Is That All? Limits and Potentials of Johannine ‘Ethic’ – A Critical Revaluation of Research,” 3–43 and Ruben Zimmermann, “Is There Ethics in the Gospel of John? Challenging an Outdated Consensus,” 44–80. 2 On this see especially Jan G. van der Watt, “Ethics and Ethos in the Gospel According to John,” ZNW 97 (2006): 147–76; Jan G. van der Watt, “Ethics Alive in Imagery,” in Imagery in the Gospel of John: Terms, Forms, Themes, and Theology of Johannine Figurative Language, ed. Jörg Frey, Jan G. van der Watt, and Ruben Zimmermann, WUNT 200 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 421–48; P. Dschlunigg, Jesus begegnen: Personen und ihre Bedeutung im Johannesevangelium, Theologie 30 (Münster: LIT, 2000); Tobias Nicklas, Ablösung und Verstrickung: “Juden” und Jüngergestalten als Charaktere der erzählten Welt des Johannesvangeliums und ihre Wirkung auf den implizierten Leser, RST 60 (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 2001); Cornelis Bennema, Encountering Jesus: Character Studies in the Gospel of John (Milton Keyes: Paternoster, 2009); Udo Schnelle, “Das Johannesevangelium als neue Sinnbildung,” in Theology and Christology in the Fourth Gospel, ed. Gilbert van Belle, Jan G. van der Watt, and Petrus Maritz, BETL 184 (Leuven: Peeters, 2005), 291–313. See also the discussion in William R. G. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel: Structure and Issues in Johannine Christology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017), 410–20. 3 Martin Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora: Überlegungen zur Bedeutung der Tora in Johannesevangelium,” KD 54 (2008): 14–36, 33–34; Stephen Pancaro, The Law in the

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justified in supplementing our data with the corpus of ethical teaching embodied in Mosaic law. Sometimes religio-political, ideological concerns add weight to this view, since it is deemed ecumenical to portray the gospel as not critical of Jewish law and Judaism and to blame its antisemitic use on failed exegesis. There are of course serious dangers in allowing such legitimate hermeneutical concerns to shape our historical exegetical conclusions. But good relations, including good ecumenical relations, are always served best by a commitment as far as possible to what appears to be true, rather than to what one might want to believe, which may at the negative end be prejudicial and at the positive be patronising, both a distortion. Pro- and antisemitic stances, whether deliberate or unintentional, have contaminated Johannine research, so that we need to move beyond them to ground both history and our ecumenical concerns in more careful historical reconstruction. Such concerns come into play when discussing a major solution to ethics in John, namely, that John espouses Torah observance and so provides us with much more ethical data than surfaces in the text. Accordingly, John’s Jesus can be identified as the Word who also came as divine Wisdom in Torah, so that John’s Jesus stands tall, as it were, on the foundation of the Law, which remains in force.4 A Matthean reading of John gives us an image of Jesus as Torah/Logos incarnate, upholding Torah and bringing out its true meaning (Matt 5:17–19; 11:28–30). Such interpretation reads ȤȐȡȚȞ ĮରȞIJ੿ ȤȐȡȚIJȠȢ (1:16) as grace on top of grace,5 and the prologue as an account of salvation history with the Logos active in creation, visiting Israel through the prophets and the Law and coming finally in the flesh in Jesus, and the few instances of Jesus’

Fourth Gospel: The Torah and the Gospel, Moses and Jesus, Judaism and Christianity According to John, NovTSup 42 (Leiden: Brill, 1975); J. Louis Martyn, The Gospel of John in Christian History: Essays for Interpreters (New York: Paulist, 1978); see also Jan G. van der Watt, “Ethics of/and the Opponents of Jesus in John’s Gospel,” in Rethinking the Ethics of John: “Implicit Ethics” in the Johannine Writings, ed. Jan G. van der Watt and Ruben Zimmermann, CCNTE 3, WUNT 291 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 175–91, who writes: “The Law forms a central pillar in the ethical discussions in the Gospel. Neither party holds a negative view of the Law as such. The real problem lies with the interpretation of the Law” (p. 189). If so, then “interpretation” needs to include such radical interpretation as sees the Law predicting its cessation and the temple’s replacement by Christ, as shown below. This would go far beyond the usual meaning of the term. 4 Martin Hengel, “The Prologue of the Gospel of John as the Gateway to Christological Truth,” in The Gospel of John and Christian Theology, ed. Richard Bauckham and Carl Mosser (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), 265–94, 272–82; Daniel Boyarin, “The Gospel of the Memra: Jewish Binitarianism and the Prologue to John,” HTR 94 (2001): 243–84, 275– 79. 5 Craig S. Keener, The Gospel of John: A Commentary, 2 vols. (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2005), 1.421; Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 28–29.

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disputes involving reference to laws (5:17–20; 7:19–24; 9:4; 10:22–39; 8:17) are read as Jesus’ serious engagement in halakic debate. 6 This image of Jesus incarnating Torah begins to wobble as soon as we realise that a major aspect of Torah is cult, including temple, and that, far from undertaking simply a makeover of the temple, his “Father’s house” (2:16), John’s Jesus replaces it, not just as the eschatological temple but because true worship he asserts cannot be confined to time and place (2:19–22; 4:19–24). In the same context of the opening chapters we similarly have the water for purification changed to wine (2:1–10), another symbol of replacement.7 There is no sound, exegetical ground for denying that in John Jesus replaces the temple and so, at least in this respect, a large component of Torah, not least because so much related to purity, festivals and the like is bound up with the temple cult. One cannot and should not separate temple and Torah. It is ecumenically more offensive and patronising to be found denying such replacement, than in acknowledging it as reality. This then calls into question our solution of expanding our database for Johannine ethics by a reconstruction which has a Matthean sounding Johannine Jesus espousing Torah observance. Elsewhere I have pursued the issue in detail, demonstrating that this is a misreading of John and that John rather portrays Jesus as offering what John’s fellow Jews claimed only Torah offered, and will not repeat the argument in detail here.8 John’s fellow Jews seek life in Torah but John declares that only in Jesus is life to be found (5:39–40). Not Moses but Jesus is the bread from heaven (6:32). Far from being disparaged, however, the Torah was God’s gift, which in its rites, festivals, and institutions foreshadowed what was to come, in its words predicted it and in its stories, such as in the manna in the wilderness (6:30–58), symbolically prefigured it.9 What God gave at the level of the flesh 6 Vahrenhorst, “Johannes und die Tora,” 22–26; Hartwig Thyen, Das Johannesevangelium, HNT 6 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 502. Cf. Andrew T. Lincoln, The Gospel According to Saint John, BNTC 4 (London: A&C Black, 2005); Jürgen Becker, Johanneisches Christentum (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 185. 7 Francis J. Moloney, The Gospel of John, SP 4 (Collegeville: Liturgical, 1998), 68; Mary L. Coloe, God Dwells with Us: Temple Symbolism in the Fourth Gospel (Collegeville: Liturgical, 2001), 69. 8 William R. G. Loader, “The Law and Ethics in John’s Gospel,” in Rethinking the Ethics of John: “Implicit Ethics” in the Johannine Writings (ed. Jan G. van der Watt and Ruben Zimmermann, CCNTE 3, WUNT 291 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 143–58, chapter 14 in this volume. See also my earlier discussions: William R. G. Loader, “‘Your Law’ – the Johannine perspective,” in “was ihr auf dem Weg verhandelt habt.” Beiträge zur Exegese und Theologie des Neuen Testaments. Festschrift für Ferdinand Hahn zum 75. Geburtstag, ed. P. Müller, C. Gerber, and T. Knöppler (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2001), 63–74; William R. G. Loader, “Jesus and the Law in John,” in Theology and Christology in the Fourth Gospel: Essays by the Members of the SNTS Johannine Writings Seminar, ed. G. van Belle, J. G. van der Watt, and P. Maritz, BETL 184 (Leuven: Peeters, 2005), 135–54. 9 See Loader, “Law and Ethics,” 144–45, in this volume chapter 14, pp. 240–41.

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as something positive and valuable, God has now replaced at the level of the Spirit (3:1–8; 6:62) according to John. Indeed, Torah had allegedly predicted that the coming of the Logos would bring this about and now served primarily as witness to that effect (5:45–47; 1:45). Transferring images traditionally linked to Wisdom/Torah to Jesus, the author now has Jesus as the true bread (6:32–35, 48–51), true light (1:9; 8:12; 1:5, 7–8; 9:5; 12:35–36, 46), the way, the truth, and the life (14:6; 11:25; 1:4; 5:40), so that the appropriate stance towards Torah is to honour its role in the past and its continuing witness in the present but no longer to make it life’s centre, now that the one to whom it looked forward as centre and sole authority has come. Like Pancaro, I have seen the best approach for such an investigation as to start not with 1:14–18 and especially ȤȐȡȚȞ ĮରȞIJ੿ ȤȐȡȚIJȠȢ (1:16) but with the rest of the gospel and only then to turn to these important verses in the prologue.10 In this paper I want to reverse that approach and begin with 1:14–18. What do they tell us about ethics and Law in John? They do, indeed, address the issue both directly and through typology. The typological is the allusion to Exodus and Moses receiving the Law on Sinai (Exod 33:7–23; 34:6 LXX). 11 That context informs the allusions in the text to “grace and truth” and to seeing or not seeing God. The broader context of Sinai also informs the use of “glory” and “tabernacling”. Thus Sinai imagery richly informs the language of 1:14– 18. One might speculate that the author could have depicted Jesus as indeed the one whom Moses encountered there and that Jesus the Logos gave the Law, so that now having come he most fully represents and embodies it. This is not what happens. Instead the author portrays an embodiment of divine glory through Jesus as the Logos who tabernacled among us. Already here we see a foreshadowing of what is spelled out later through the expulsion at the temple and the dialogue with the Samaritan woman, namely that Jesus is the new temple.12 The normal meaning of the preposition ਕȞIJȓ is “instead of” or “in place of,” so that the natural reading of ȤȐȡȚȞ ĮରȞIJ੿ ȤȐȡȚIJȠȢ (1:16) is: grace in place of grace, namely one gift of grace replacing another.13 That this 10 Loader, “Law and Ethics,” 152, in this volume chapter 14, pp. 247–48. Pancaro, Law in the Fourth Gospel, does not address 1:17 until pages 534–37. 11 See Loader, “Law and Ethics,” 152–53, in this volume chapter 14, pp. 247–49. See Johannes Beutler, “Der Johannes-Prolog – Ouvertüre des Johannesevangeliums,” in Der Johannesprolog, ed. Günter Kruck (Darmstadt: WBG, 2009), 77–106, 95–96, and Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 104, who notes that the text also reflects Ben Sira on seeing God (Sir 43:31) and on Sophia’s tenting among the people (Sir 24:8) (p. 107). 12 Coloe, God Dwells with Us, 323–66, 332–34. 13 Ruth B. Edwards, “ȤȐȡȚȞ ĮରȞ IJ੿ ȤȐȡȚIJȠȢ, (John 1.16): Grace and the Law in the Johannine Prologue,” JSNT 32 (1988): 3–15. See also the linguistic discussion in Konrad Pfuff, Die Einheit des Johannesprologs (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 2013), 99–105, who translates: “Liebe gegen Liebe”; J. F. McHugh, John 1–4, ICC (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 64–67; Thyen, Johannesevangelium, 103; Coloe, God Dwells with Us, 28.

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is not, however, intended to be a negative contrast, such as one might find in Paul, is evident in what follows. “The Law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ” (1:17). There is no “but” in between these statements, unless we follow p66. Two things are being juxtaposed, not the bad and the good but the good and the better. God gave both. Both are grace and gift. However one surpasses and supplants the other. Even if on doubtful grounds14 one opts to read “grace upon grace,”15 the ultimate meaning has to be the same for the new does what the old could not do. Thus 1:18 clarifies this further with another juxtaposition. “No one has seen God at any time” has to have reference to Moses, who at Sinai, according to John’s reading, did not see God. He saw only God’s coattails, as it were (Exod 33:23). The positive statement, “the one who can be uniquely called God who is intimately linked to God, has made him known,” (author’s translation), is an echo of “the Word was with God and the word was God” of 1:1. Only he has seen God and so only he can make God known. What 1:14–18 tells us then is that there have been two significant actions which can be compared, one of which is greater than the other. Both are God’s gifts. What God gave first he has now replaced by a greater gift, namely in the person of Jesus, who himself is the temple and much more and replaces the old. For he alone has seen God and so offers what the Law could not offer. He also is alone the way, the truth and the life (14:6). The old way is no way, except that it points to the new. John 1:14–18 must be read also in the light of what precedes. John 1:15, the reference to John the Baptist, which underlines that we are talking about the incarnation of Jesus whose ministry John witnessed, also points back to 1:6–8, which already describes John’s role. Its effect is to ensure that the focus of the prologue in speaking of the Logos is on Jesus and his ministry. Already 1:5, which declares that the light shines despite rejection by the darkness, suggests 14

The sole instance one can cite to support a meaning other than replace, Philo Post. 145, does not in fact support it but refers to one gift of God replacing another in succession: “Wherefore God ever causes his earliest gifts to cease before their recipients are glutted and wax insolent; and storing them up for the future gives others in their stead (ਦIJȑȡĮȢ ਕȞIJ’ ਥțİȓȞȦȞ, and a third supply to replace (ਕȞIJȓ) the second, and ever new in place of (ਕȞIJȓ) earlier boons, sometimes different in kind, sometimes the same.” See also Pfuff, Einheit, 102–103. 15 So again most recently Beutler, “Johannes-Prolog”: “mehr und mehr Gnade” (p. 97); similarly, J. Ramsey Michaels, The Gospel of John (NICNT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010) 89–90; Michael E. Theobald, Das Evangelium nach Johannes. Kapitel 1 –12 (Regensburg: Pustet, 2009), 133–35. Michaels rightly adds: “The explanation of ‘grace upon grace’ is that the ‘grace’ or gift of the law through Moses has now, through Jesus Christ, given way to ‘grace and truth’” (p. 90) and Theobald: “Was die Tora – vor allem in der Sinaitheophanie – präfiguriert, das ist in der Inkarnation des Logos Wirklichkeit geworden” (p. 134). He goes to emphasise that the author uses v. 17 “als hermeneutischen Leitsatz” for the interpretation of scripture, read not as Heilgeschichte but “strikt christozentrisch” (italics original) (pp. 134–35).

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Jesus’ ministry. It makes best sense then to see the reference to the Logos coming into the world which he made and to his people, Israel (1:9–13), as depicting Jesus’ ministry, not the coming of the Logos in Torah. Coherent with John’s soteriology, authority to become sons and daughters of God (1:12–13) derives not from being Israel but from response to the Logos, to Jesus. John 1:14 then continues the reference to Jesus’ coming as the Logos with a focus on his coming in the flesh, emphasising it as the means by which his glory could be seen as the new temple and revelation of God. 16 Read in this way, the prologue cannot be understood as a salvation-historical account of the Logos as first active in creation, who then came in the Law and the prophets to Israel and finally came in Christ. This is not to say that the prologue might not at some stage in an earlier form have been a salvationhistorical account, just as it clearly derives ultimately from Wisdom mythology which depicted divine Wisdom, God’s agent in creation, as seeking a place to dwell and finally finding it in Israel as Torah, as Ben Sira 24 and Baruch 3 assert or as the Parables of Enoch (1 Enoch 42) declare: not finding a place at all, a tradition more compatible with the Christian salvation-historical version. A Matthean version, had there been one, might well have appropriated the Christianised version and depicted Jesus as Wisdom/Torah incarnate and as having come in the Law and prophets and now fulfilling them not by setting them aside but by offering them their ultimate interpretation. Indeed, there are arguably traces of this in its transformation of Wisdom’s saying in Q (Luke 11:49) into a saying of Jesus (Matt 23:34) and its depiction of Jesus as calling people to bear his yoke (Matt 11:28–30), reminiscent of Torah/Wisdom’s call in Sir 51:23 (cf. also Matt 11:19). But John is not Matthew. John abandons the salvation-historical approach which identifies Jesus with Wisdom/Torah and instead reserves Logos/Wisdom exclusively for Jesus and so, when he comes to 1:14–18, sensitively juxtaposes Law and Logos, both as God’s gifts but one as not only superior to the other but replacing it. In reality, of course, even where division and separation has occurred as we detect behind John’s gospel and which will have informed his radical christology, which reframed his Jewish tradition but without rejecting it, some basic ethical values were bound to remain normative and elsewhere I have argued that the structure of soteriology or spirituality, namely sustaining a relationship with God by living according to God’s Word, remains the same.17 16 This may, as Beutler, “Johannes-Prolog,” notes, reflect engagement with gnostic views (pp. 95–96) but it could also focus on embodiment as the means of manifesting glory, not least because body can represented with imagery of tent (cf. 2 Cor 5:1–5; John 2:18–22). 17 William R. G. Loader, “The Significance of the Prologue for Understanding John’s Soteriology,” in The Prologue of the Gospel of John: Its Literary, Theological, and Philosophical Contexts. Papers read at the Colloquium Ioanneum 2013, ed. Jan G. van der Watt, R. Alan Culpepper, and Udo Schnelle, WUNT 359 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016), 45–55, chapter 7 in this volume.

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Replacing Torah as the source of salvation had more to do with what was being asserted aggressively about Jesus against fierce opposition than about the intricacies of biblical law. Sociologically it does not make sense to imagine a community after such division systematically disavowing all the values it once held. After all, Torah was not to be disparaged – and John never did so – but to be put in its place; and while it was no longer the life, light, bread, water, it would have continued to shape basic ethical values such as rejection of murder, theft, deceit, and adultery, not least because these were also values shared across cultures and there was no need to set these aside.18 With Sabbath and circumcision it was probably different, unless these were not experienced as identity markers between the groups, though one suspects that the probability would be high that at least with the latter this would be so and comments about the Sabbath in John suggest at least a difference of approach, which was more liberal (5:17–20; 7:19–24; 9:4; cf. also 19:31, 40, 42).19 Even then, if they were living in predominantly Jewish communities one may suspect that Sabbath keeping in some sense would be the norm. We have, then, to differentiate largely unspoken and undisputed norms which, given its background, would have derived in this community from its Jewish heritage and so from Torah, from reflective thought about the basis for deriving ethical decisions and here the answer in John seems clearly to be not Torah but the fundamental teaching and modelling of Jesus, as they understood and promoted it, focused on love and care for one another (13:1–17, 34–35; 15:9–17), including a social justice component as people lived close to poverty (cf. 1 John 3:11–18).20 John 1:14–18 suggests such a change. Now, that to which the Law pointed forward and which it foreshadowed has come. The Law, God’s gift, had predicted its own demise with the arrival of the new, which now has come and is now the primary basis for ethical reflection. What 1:14–18 suggests coheres with what the gospel then presents. John’s Jesus did not come to reform the temple but to replace it. He did not come to expound Torah but to replace it. Within all the indirect influences, including those deriving from Torah, now Jesus alone, his teaching and his 18

van der Watt, “Ethics and Ethos,” 152–55; Jey J. Kanagaraj, “The Implied Ethics of the Fourth Gospel: A Reinterpretation of the Decalogue,” TynB 52 (2001): 33–60. John’s implicit use of decalogue values differs from Mark, where despite setting much of the Law aside Jesus insists that keeping the ethical commands of the decalogue as Jesus interprets them is the way to inherit eternal life (Mark 10:17–22), something John would never say – and nor would Paul. 19 See the discussion in Loader, “Law and Ethics,” 146–48, in this volume chapter 14, pp. 242–43. 20 See William R. G. Loader, “What Happened to ‘Good News for the Poor’ in the Johannine Tradition?” in John, Jesus, and History, Vol. 3, Glimpses of Jesus through the Johannine Lens, ed. Paul N. Anderson, Felix Just, and Tom Thatcher, ECL 18 (Atlanta: SBL, 2016), 469–80, chapter 12 in this volume.

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modelling, stand at the heart of Johannine ethics. And according to John this is no disparagement of Torah but simply the result of what it intended.

16. Dissent and Disparagement Dealing with Conflict and the Pain of Rejection in the Gospel according to John Introduction One of the challenges faced by democracies is the extent to which dissent may occur without disparagement. It is also a challenge faced in families and in all human relationships. Is it possible to hold dissenting views without therefore disparaging others? The alternative of avoiding or lying about dissent in the name of peace is no way forward. It produces all kinds of indirect or unexpressed tension, destructive to all involved. Sometimes it is necessary to dissent, indeed, to engage in vigorous debate. The problems arise when I move from debating with another person to denigrating them, the shift from dissenting stance to personal attack or disparagement. Denigrating or disparaging another person may occur in the heat of argument or it may occur in calmer moments of grief when coming to terms with dissent and rejection. In such moments we concoct stories about the other which portray them as just too dumb or, theologically, as destined not to believe. Such ontic fantasies serve not only the processes of grief but also moments of elation and acceptance, such as when joy hails the other as destined and chosen to be my companion, my lover, my partner. Not surprisingly, such dynamics have been played out across history. This paper examines how they were played out in the turbulent beginnings of the Jesus movement as it emerged within early Judaism. It looks at the phenomena, particularly in the gospel according to John,1 but also with brief observations about other writings in comparison, especially the letter to the Hebrews and also the Gospel according to Matthew. The reason for coupling John and Hebrews together is that they, in part, share a strategy for dealing with the complex issues of continuity and discontinuity in relation to their religious past. I make a brief comparison with Matthew because it is also best understood in my view as, like John, written against the background of tension and conflict with fellow Jews but takes a very different approach.

1 See my discussion in William R. G. Loader, Jesus in Johns Gospel: Structure and Issues in Johannine Christology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017), 421–71.

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Were the believers whom the fourth evangelist addressed cast out of the synagogue, as the author suggests in 16:2, “the expulsion theory,”2 or, at least, some of them, or did they and the author cast (other) Jews out of the covenant, as Adele Reinhartz has recently argued?3 Much, indeed, has been written about the term “the Jews”, in John, a topic far beyond the bounds of this paper to pursue.4 My understanding is that the hearers of the gospel comprise a mixture of Jews and gentile believers. Mostly “the Jews”, when cited in contexts of conflict, refer to fellow Jews who had rejected the claims being made by the author and his fellow-believers. Context determines meaning and the values attached, so that we can also recognise, for instance, that in 4:22 the context does not imply anything negative. The focus of this paper is not, therefore, to revisit the identity of “the Jews” but to look at how the author dealt with the conflicts with “the Jews”, or, more particularly, how the author depicted that his protagonists and their antagonists dealt with conflict. Conflict and experience of rejection is the context for most occurrences of “the Jews” in John. For the author and his fellow Christbelievers, that conflict was not the same as when gentiles at Ephesus or Corinth or Rome might reject their message, because these Johannine believers, many of them probably Jews or proselytes, were laying claim to continuity with Israel’s religious tradition which was being expanded to include gentiles. To have that claim to continuity rejected by other Jews was offensive and painful because it questioned a major element of their claim to legitimacy. In some instances, we may speculate, it also played itself out quite personally in divided families and divisions in what were once synagogue communities and, one may speculate, in experience of self-doubt. Calling fellow Jews who dissented “the Jews” and speaking of “your Law” indicates serious distancing,5 making all the more striking the efforts to assert continuity. The claims being made for Jesus were “over the top” for many in the synagogue and tantamount to making Jesus a second god or making him equal

2

In her review of this stance Adele Reinhartz, Cast out of the Covenant: Jews and AntiJudaism in the Gospel of John (Lanham: Lexington, 2018), calls this “the expulsion theory” (pp. 111–30). 3 See Reinhartz, Cast out of the Covenant, passim. 4 See, for instance, Reinhartz, Cast out of the Covenant, 81–86, 93–108; R. Alan Culpepper, “Anti-Judaism in the Fourth Gospel as a Theological Problem for Christian Interpreters,” in Anti-Judaism and the Fourth Gospel, ed. Reimund Bieringer, Didier Pollefeyt, and Frederique Vanecasteele-Vanneuville (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2001), 61–82, 63–68; Cornelis Bennema, Encountering Jesus: Character Studies in the Gospel of John (Milton Keynes: Paternoster, 2009), 38–46; Ruben Zimmermann, “‘The Jews’: Unreliable Figures or Unreliable Narration?” in Character Studies in the Fourth Gospel: Narrative Approaches to Seventy Figures in John, ed. Steven A. Hunt, D. Frances Tolmie, and Ruben Zimmermann (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2016), 71–109. 5 So Culpepper, “Anti-Judaism,” 63.

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to God. People making such claims should have no place in the synagogue of faith. The defence, which countered by appeal to traditions rooted in speculation about Wisdom and Torah, should suffice according to the author and so to reject God’s new initiative was to place oneself outside the covenant, indeed, to reject God! Not all of John’s gospel is focused on conflict with “the Jews”. The following survey, conducted sequentially, identifies the key passages where it is prominent. A synthetic analysis follows in which common elements are noted before briefly considering them comparatively in relation, especially to Hebrews and Matthew.

Reviewing Key Texts He came to his own and his own did not receive him, but as many as received him to them he gave authority to become the children of God, to those who believed in his name, who born not of blood nor of the will of a male, but of God. (1:11–13)

The rejection, which echoes Wisdom’s rejection in 1 Enoch 42 (in contrast to Sirach 24), is already indicated in general terms in the words “and the darkness did not accept (or overcome) it” (1:5) and “the world did not recognise him” (1:10), and becomes specific in 1:11. “His own” means his fellow Jews6 or at least must include them.7 That takes us to the heart of the conflict. Already by association “his own” who reject him are identified or associated with “the world” and “darkness”, as later in 7:7–12. That is, not that they are equated but that “his own” who reject him belong to the wider category of “world” and “darkness”. Equally significant is the statement that some did receive him. To interpret this woodenly as meaning only gentiles received him fails to appreciate the author’s rhetoric. The gospel narrative to follow, indeed, confirms that those who accepted the Word included some of “his own”.8 3:32– 33 is comparable where the author writes that no one received Jesus’ testimony and goes straight on to speak of some who did. John 1:12–13 declares that they are thereby born of God and not by normal means. This may be a general statement but more likely it distances their faith and the new status which follows, namely being children of God, from claims of “his own” who might appeal to their status as children of Abraham and so 6 Marianne Meye Thompson, John (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2015), 31. Cf. Johannes Beutler, Das Johannesevangelium (Freiburg: Herder, 2013), 91; Jean Zumstein, Das Johannesevangelium, KEK (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2016), 82–83. 7 So Craig S. Keener, The Gospel of John. A Commentary, 2 vols. (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2005), 398–99; J. Ramsey Michaels, The Gospel of John (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2010), 67. 8 Thompson, John, 31; cf. Reinhartz, Cast out of the Covenant, 138.

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children of God.9 While prophetic tradition could challenge self-assurance and immunity from judgement based on Abrahamic descent (e.g., Matt 3:7–10; Luke 3:7–9), here in John is probably our first indication of rejection of any special claims based on being of “his own”. In that sense, we see already here the beginnings of what Adele Reinhartz calls being cast out of the covenant. “The Gospel rhetorically transfers the benefits of Jewishness – covenantal relationship with God – from the Ioudaioi to the ‘children of God’.”10 The language of accepting, believing, assenting to Jesus as the Word comes again in 2:23–25, where the formulation “believe in his name” reappears but, strikingly, this time to reject such faith because it fails to comprehend who Jesus is and simply hails him as one who can perform miracles. The passage continues into chapter 3 with Nicodemus held up as an example.11 His “Christian” confession “You are a teacher come from God because no one can the miracles which you do unless God is with him” also fails to meet the standard and as a response the author has Jesus repeat the motifs of 1:12–13, speaking of new birth, “Jesus answered him, ‘Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above’” (3:3). At one level, the problem is that Nicodemus and those like him in 2:23–25 do not see enough. At another level, the assumption is that they see enough to be culpable for not responding with the adequate level of faith. With those in 2:23–25, the author attributes it to what Jesus knew about human beings, probably their sinfulness or unwillingness to really see what they are seeing. It is a blameworthy failure on their part. With Nicodemus, introduced also as an ਙȞșȡȦʌȠȢ, linking him to them,12 it could be just that he has not seen enough but, as the constructed dialogue continues, it becomes clear that his response and that of those identified with him is also blameworthy, as the author has Jesus declare: “Truly I tell you, we are speaking about what we know and we are bearing witness to what we have witnessed and you do not accept our testimony” (3:11), echoing the language of accepting which runs through the prologue. It reappears in the quasisummary in 3:31–36, where the author writes of Jesus: “What he has seen and heard, this he testifies and no one accepts his testimony. He who accepts his testimony sets his seal on the fact that God is true” (3:32–33). As the comments about “his own” who do not accept him in 1:11 is followed by reference to those of “his own” who did (1:12), this statement exhibits the same apparent

9 Udo Schnelle, Das Evangelium nach Johannes, 2nd ed., THzNT 4 (Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 2016), 55; Thompson, John, 32. 10 Reinhartz, Cast out of the Covenant, xxii. 11 R. Alan Culpepper, “Nicodemus: The Travail of New Birth,” in Character Studies in the Fourth Gospel: Narrative Approaches to Seventy Figures in John, ed. S.A. Hunt, D.F. Tolmie, and R. Zimmermann (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2016), 249–59, 253–54. 12 Zumstein, Johannesevangelium, 133; Michaels, John, 176.

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contradiction: no one accepts him, but some do! The focus is clearly upon the need for hearers of the testimony to accept and believe it. That is their moral responsibility and not to do so is therefore blameworthy and will incur God’s anger, as expressed in 3:36. The exchange with Nicodemus is like a skit played out on stage, a kind of serious entertainment to enhance faith, rich in irony. One can imagine the smiles and laughter at the caricature which is Nicodemus and his stark naiveté. Portraying him like this, especially as a teacher of “the Jews”, goes beyond blaming him and them for dissent. It ridicules. This is a kind of poetic licence written for insiders and also typical of how people understood biographical writings in the period.13 The author and doubtless his hearers would have been aware that this was a constructed story and appreciated its entertaining playfulness, such as in the use of ਙȞȦșİȞ, whose two senses, “again” and “from above” are at play in the story. It is nevertheless going beyond recognition of dissent to disparagement of the dissenter. Moral accountability to accept the witness about Jesus is assumed in the story and makes sense because it lies in people’s capacity to do so. This is very clear in the famous 3:16, which declares of Jesus that “whoever believes in him has eternal life.” Just a few verses later, however, we read: And this is the judgement, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. 20For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. 21 But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God. (3:19–21)

This almost aphoristic statement comes close to making absolute claims, about which, as we have seen, caution is needed in John (cf. on 1:11–13; 3:32–33 above). As Michaels observes, “A notable feature of Johannine style in these early chapters is a sweeping negative assertion followed by a conspicuous exception.”14 At the level of the image, it makes good sense. Bad people do not want light shone on their deeds. Applied to the theme of the context about accepting or not accepting the testimony about Jesus, identified as light already in the prologue, it implies that good people will assent but those who dissent do so because they are bad people. For the author, good people, because they are good, would accept the testimony. That is what good people would do. If people do not do so, this is not only blameworthy but indicative of the fact that they are bad people. This sounds almost like a closed system but the author will surely also have believed that bad people can repent. They, then, become good people and 13 On the freedom exercised in biographies of the time and its comparability with the gospels see Richard Burridge, What are the Gospels? A Comparison with Graeco-Roman Biography, 2nd ed. (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2018), on John: pp. 213–32. 14 Michaels, John, 206.

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escape being bound forever in those categories. The author, however, does not say this. The phenomenon of bad people coming to the light because they need it, normally central to the call to repent and believe in the good news, is not in view. If only good people come to the light, then this would raise serious questions about what role the light plays for them and the extent to which they need it and why. The issues raised here recur as we continue through the gospel. Such explanations go beyond reporting dissent. They explain rejection (and so come to terms with it, including with the hurt it inflicts) on the basis of making assumptions about the dissenters, namely that they are bad people in themselves and not just because of their dissent. This is to deal with dissent by denigration or disparagement. The next stage play, as it were, comes with Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman. Again, the faith audience is being entertained with irony and double meaning at the woman’s expense but, again, this is the author’s consciously creative artistry. Thus, like Nicodemus, the woman is a stage caricature of naiveté. The woman’s words contain profound meaning at one level even if she has not a clue about it and persists in still wanting to have actual water: “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water” (4:15) and only reaches so far on the faith journey to exclaim, “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?” (4:29; cf. also 4:39), which deserved a laugh from the audience, having heard about her private life but scarcely goes beyond the faith of those in 2:23–25. Her compatriots go further (4:32) and we are left wondering if she finally made it. I agree with Jerome Neyrey that for hearers of the time she would be seen as not only a foreigner and socially ostracised, but also as a sinner.15 Much that the author is doing in this portrait lies outside of the scope of this paper. 16 In relation to the theme of conflict it is important to note that she is one whose deeds were evil who came to the light, albeit gradually. Her story, therefore, serves as a warning to us to be cautious about what appear to be exclusive categories in 3:19–21She is therefore one whose deeds were evil who came to the light – gradually, and her story serves as a warning to be cautious about what appear to be exclusive categories in 3:19–21. The rejection of inadequate faith, which we met in 2:23–25 and 3:2, reappears in Jesus’ response in 4:48 and so, by implication, the faith mentioned in 4:53 would be understood by the author to be beyond that. In chapter 5 the exchange between Jesus and his critics for healing on the Sabbath (5:17–30) 15 Jerome H. Neyrey. “What’s Wrong with this Picture? John 4. Cultural Stereotypes of Women, and Public and Private Space,” in The Gospel of John in Cultural and Rhetorical Perspective (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 143–71. 16 See the discussion in William R. G. Loader, The New Testament on Sexuality (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 350–52.

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remains at the level of dissent and helps us see what the author depicts as the objection of “the Jews”, his breaking Sabbath law, but more importantly, his making himself equal to God (5:18). The exchange focuses on claim and counterclaim with Jesus countering their misunderstanding of what he was claiming when they accuse him of making himself equal to God.17 It remains a debate focused on substance with Jesus’ appealing to testimonial support from John the Baptist, his deeds, and ultimately, God (5:31–37a). The author has Jesus blame his critics for refusing to acknowledge his claims about himself (5:38b, 40–44), to which he also adds the witness of scripture (5:39) and the warning that therefore Moses will condemn them in the judgement (5:45–47). In 5:37b–38, however, it goes further: “You have never heard his voice or seen his form, and you do not have his word abiding in you, because you do not believe him whom he has sent.” Echoing Deut 4:12, “You heard the sound of words but saw no form,” it goes beyond the uncontentious claim that no one has seen God, as in 1:18, to declare that they have also not heard God’s voice. The allegation is better understood as declaring that they have not hearkened to God’s word whether in the past or in Jesus as the only one who has seen God and who speaks God’s word, than as a dismissal of biblical tradition altogether, not least because the author is about to appeal to it as witness.18 The blame extends not just to their non-acceptance of Jesus’ claims despite the witnesses which support him but also generalised to their not listening and obeying God’s word. Their rejection of Jesus is symptomatic of their refusal to hearken to God’s word. Dealing with dissent reappears more decisively in chapter 6. Here, again, we meet the inadequate faith of those admiring miracles, who acclaim Jesus prophet and king, to whom Jesus, accordingly, gives the slip (6:14–15) and later rebukes them because they saw the miracle only as a mass feeding, not as a sign (6:26). The exchange with the crowd continues in reference to Moses and the manna (6:30–35). It remains at the level of substance as the author now has Jesus reject the belief that Moses gave bread from heaven (6:32), 19 as he had that the scriptures which Moses represented give life rather than pointing to Jesus as its source (5:39). The move in 6:32 is to deny the significance of Torah as life-giving and in effect to usurp its claims by now declaring that only Jesus offers bread and light and life. This denial is reinforced by the use of “true”, here and elsewhere, which functions not only as a positive statement but also as a negative one, negating all other claims. 20

17

Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 331–36. Keener, John, 658–59; Michaels, John, 330; cf. Zumstein, Johannesevangelium, 235. 19 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 443–52. 20 Keener, John, 682; William R. G. Loader, “Wisdom and Logos Traditions in Judaism and John’s Christology,” in Reading the Gospel of John’s Christology as Jewish 18

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The author then has Jesus address their failure to believe in him. “Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away” (6:37). Here, as in his prayer in John 17, the reference is to those who are “given”, destined by God, to respond. The same thought recurs in 6:44, “No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me; and I will raise that person up on the last day.” This goes beyond the issue of moral accountability, namely the choice to respond, and becomes an explanation of why some respond positively and some do not, almost to the point where responsibility for who responds to Jesus and who does not belongs to God, not an issue of praise or blame in relation to individuals. Some are “taught by God” to respond, as the author has Jesus cite Isa 54:13, and some are not (6:45). The author has Jesus return to the claim in 6:64–65, where Jesus is attributed with foreknowledge both about who would believe and who would not and also about who would betray him and again declares: “For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted by the Father” (6:65). This may function to help believers come to terms with the pain that some do not respond but otherwise is highly problematic and stands in tension with the notion that any can respond and all are accountable for doing so or not. As Keener notes: “Like most of his Jewish contemporaries John felt no tension between predestination and free will.” 21 In 7:2–5 Jesus’ siblings are depicted as embracing the inadequate faith of 2:23–25, Nicodemus, 4:48 and the crowd in 6:14–15, which the author summarises with the words: “For not even his brothers believed in him” (7:5) and then uses the broad category of “the world” to depict not only dissent but also hate: “The world cannot hate you, but it hates me because I testify against it that its works are evil” (7:7). This is shifting the focus from blameworthy dissent to direct hostility, also blameworthy. Within the “world” that hates, the author places “the Jews” who grumble about his claims (7:12), as they had in 6:41, 51. The intent to kill (7:20b) prepares us for the passion but the exchanges in chapter 7 range from some who contemplate his possibly being the Messiah to those wanting to arrest and execute him and are primarily focused on dissent over substance. The exchanges in 8:12–30 continue in similar vein as concerned with substance and authenticating testimony. In 8:31–47 the conflict sharpens when Jesus claims that to embrace the truth about him is to be set free (8:32), which provokes the counterclaim by “the Jews” that they are free. John’s Jesus proceeds with the argument that those who sin are slaves of sin, even more so since they seek to kill him. He challenges their claim to having Abraham as their father, while acknowledging

Messianism: Royal, Prophetic, and Divine Messiahs, ed. Benjamin Reynolds and Gabrielle Boccaccini, AJEC 106 (Leiden: Brill, 2018), 303–34, 318–19, chapter 2 in this volume. 21 Keener, John, 685; similarly, Michaels, John, 377–78.

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it at the literal level of descent, and charges that they are children of the murderous devil. “You are from your father the devil, and you choose to do your father’s desires” (8:44). This is not a statement about Jewish ethnicity or race. Rather, it is typical of statements in John which appear on the surface contradictory as we have seen in 1:11–13 and 3:32–33. For in 8:37 the author has Jesus say, “I know that you are descendants of Abraham.” The author is, accordingly, laying blame on “the Jews” because they reject Jesus’ claims and want to kill him but adding that they do so because they are slaves to sin and serving the devil. These are those among “his own” who do not accept him (1:11), those “who do evil” (3:20), who, therefore, belong to the darkness that rejects the light or wants to overcome it (1:5) and to “the world” which hates. They are depicted as morally reprobate. Despite the way in which this passage has been read, it remains at the level of blamed dissent attributed to slavery to sin and the devil, not to divine destiny (which would by logic somewhat alleviate guilt) nor to ontology, that is, that they are by nature demonic as in later antisemitic use of the passage. It comes closest to the claim in 3:20 that people who do not come to the light do not do so because their deeds are evil, only that here this state of being is depicted as slavery to sin and the devil and so being children of the devil. The narrative is written to be heard primarily by Christ-believers, who might, again, take it as comfort in explaining their pain (and anger) that their message had not been met with assent. As such it is a problematic generalisation, a descent to ad hominem argumentation in disparaging the dissenters as already bad people. The story continues with the dissenters’ own ad hominem countercharge of demon possession against Jesus (8:48), not a charge he had made against them in that form, though his depiction of them as children of the devil is equivalent. The focus returns to a matter of substance of dissent with their rejection of Jesus’ claim of pre-existence before Abraham. The faith entertainment which follows in John 9 centres around belief and unbelief, concluding with the age-old motif of spiritual blindness as a charge levelled at the Pharisees for their unbelief (9:39–41) but not in any way exculpating them of guilt, as one would in saying that it is never a blind person’s fault that they cannot see something! John’s Jesus declares: “I came into this world for judgement so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind” (9:39), a problematic claim if taken to mean that he intended spiritual blindness on people but possibly understood as a way of depicting the impact of his message which would force people to decide for or against and so, see or not see. In that sense it explains dissent as inevitable, as it is when people make claims but it likely means more, reflecting the topos of God hardening people’s hearts, often linked with notions of divine determining, such as we see in 12:39–40, where the author explains, “And so they could not believe, because Isaiah also said, ‘He has blinded their eyes and

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hardened their heart, so that they might not look with their eyes, and understand with their heart and turn – and I would heal them’” (Isa 6:10; cf. also 29:9; 42:18–19; 56:10). In chapter 10 the notion of predestination reappears in the words, “What my Father has given me” (10:29). The dissent focuses on blasphemy (10:33) in Jesus’ alleged claim to be God when he declares, “The Father and I are one” (10:30), to which the author has Jesus respond with clarifications to avert such a misunderstanding.22 It echoes the substantial argument in 5:17–30. In chapter 11, after the Lazarus story, we have further reference to the authorities seeking to execute Jesus but with the emphasis on religio-political expediency (11:47– 53). The authorities also want to kill Lazarus because of the impact of his resuscitation (12:9–11). In 12:36–43 the author returns to the motif of spiritual blindness, as noted above, problematically explaining rejection as engineered by God. The notion of divine determining reappears in John 13, both in relation to Judas (13:2), associated with scripture fulfilment, and in Jesus’ calling the disciples “chosen” (13:18; 15:16; cf. 6:70–71). The theme of “the world” and its hate comes into focus in 15:15–25, where it is associated with those who hated Jesus, by implication, “the Jews”, and indicating that the same fate would await disciples. This continues in chapter 16 which notes that such acts of hostility would result in their being expelled from synagogues (ਕʌȠıȣȞĮȖઆȖȠȣȢ ʌȠȚ੾ıȠȣıȚȞ ਫ਼ȝ઼Ȣ 16:2; similarly, 9:22; 12:42). With Keener I see no reason to deny that the author was referring to what had actually happened, at least for some as one aspect of the ongoing conflicts. 23 I also see no need to generalise it to the whole so-called Johannine community, let alone to read into it the later curse of the Minim.24 Concern for such disciples is reflected also in the prayer of Jesus in John 17, where, again, we meet the motif of divine determination. “I have made your name known to those whom you gave me from the world” (17:6; similarly, 17:11, 12) and Judas as “the one destined to be lost” (17:12). Those who are to believe in the future (17:20–21) are also included among those “given” by the Father (17:24). Conflict with “the Jews” is not directly present in the passion narrative but we see the author in his neatly contrived account of the seven alternating scenes of the trial before Pilate tendentiously depicting their leaders as betraying the heart of their faith by declaring, Ƞ੝ț ਩ȤȠȝİȞ ȕĮıȚȜ੼Į İੁ ȝ੽ ȀĮ઀ıĮȡĮ, “We have no king but the emperor” (19:15). In effect, they repeat the allegation put on the lips of “the Jews”, earlier in the work, namely that Jesus claimed to be the 22

Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 337–45. Keener, John, 1025. 24 For a critical review of Johannine community paradigm, see David A. Lamb, Text, Context and the Johannine Community: A Sociolinguistic Analysis of the Johannine Writings, LNTS 477 (London: T&T Clark, 2014). 23

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Son of God (19:7), a true claim for the author but also a false one in the manner in which the antagonists had used it.

Dissent and Beyond The author is writing in a context where people have embraced the claims about Jesus and found that others have rejected them. While such rejection would be an inevitable feature of response to the Christian message wherever it was made, it was particularly acute or at least of special quality when Jews rejected the message, that is, as we may assume for many of John’s hearers, fellow Jews. The author has incorporated into his narrative some indications of the reasons for such rejection. They focus particularly on the high claims made for Jesus. Thus, the author has Jesus respond to claims that Jesus allegedly was making himself equal to God or even a second god. There would likely to have been disagreement over claims that someone is the Messiah (as in 9:42) but such claims are not blasphemous in the way that these allegations were. Beyond these allegations, the broader claims which the author has Jesus make of himself, as the Word, the Son sent from the Father, who has seen the Father and can alone make him known, not speak of his claim that he would return exalted and glorified to the Father, were, for many, outlandish. At a number of points in the narrative the author portrays this refusal to accept Jesus’ claims and deems it blameworthy, indeed as warranting divine wrath. There is strong dissent which the author depicts as escalating into hatred and the will to have Jesus executed, based primarily on what “the Jews” saw as blasphemy. The rejection of claims became more than dissent over ideas, because the claims were claims about his person so that to reject his claims was also to reject him and then when he was perceived as a religious danger (a blasphemer) or political danger, this escalated to the will to execute. From the author’s perspective, and we might say from the point of view of his protagonists, the conflict was at one level over the dissenters’ unwillingness to accept the claims made for Jesus. As we have seen, however, there was an expansion beyond dissent over ideas and disappointment over their rejection. For the author makes the allegation that the dissenting “Jews” were not only bad people for rejecting the claims but were bad people in general. This is the implication of 3:19–21 because good people would have accepted the claims. It comes close to this in chapter 8 where the author depicts “the Jews” as being in slavery to sin, thus children of the devil, not ethnically or in any literal sense but ethically and in terms of being captive to the devil’s power. This is an allegation about their state of being, an ad hominem argument, far beyond a judgement on their refusal to believe. Such allegations go beyond what the conflict over claims and the dissent warranted and reflect a development in conflict where argument over substance

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has been expanded into ad hominem invective. This, according to the author, has also happened on the side of “the Jews”, who could call Jesus possessed and who saw his claims inevitably bound up with his person, so that both needed to be removed. Two further developments of the conflict as the author portrays it are worthy of note. The employment of the notion that some have been chosen by God to respond and some have not been chosen also plays a role in John. It includes the notion that God engineered the negative response, blinding the eyes of the dissenters. This might give comfort to those hurt and angry at rejection of their claims about Jesus. Thought of divine determining can also serve a positive role, to boost the self-assurance of those of “his own” who have responded to the message and so can view themselves as chosen/given by God, in contrast to the majority, “the Jews”, who were not. Pressed to its logical conclusion, this system of thought effectively lays the blame not on “the Jews” but on God, but this would be to misunderstand the rhetorical function of such language. For the author also recognises that people can change. They can choose to believe where once they did not. 25 Perhaps the only example we have is the Samaritan woman but the possibility of change is clearly presupposed in John. Accordingly, talk about divine determination and talk about people’s state of being (doers of evil, as in 3:19–21, children of the devil, or blinded by God) must be recognised as serving to offer comfort, to rationalise rejection and failure, and not be heard as making absolute claims, though always by their nature they are in danger of doing that, too. Too much in the text contradicts that. Talk of predestination has a similar function when used in the Community Rule at Qumran, for instance (1Q28/1QS III, 13–IV, 26).26 Sons of darkness can become sons of light. Change is possible and this is not usually understood as foreordained as part of the divine plan. Such rationalising rhetoric is dangerous and its disparaging language so easily goes beyond its loose rhetorical function to become language of fact, resulting in serious contradictions, at least, on the surface of the text but, even more serious, also injustices in the world of reality. In a broader sense, secondly, the author and apparently others before him have dealt with dissent not only by denigrating opponents through ad hominem allegations but also by denying the legitimacy of their own claims, including by misrepresenting them. We see this already in what probably reflects dissent

25

Beutler, Johannesevangelium, 275. William R. G. Loader, “Sexuality Issues and Conflict Development in Qumran Literature,” in “Wisdom Poured Out Like Water”: Studies on Jewish and Christian Antiquity in Honor of Gabriele Boccaccini, ed. J. H. Ellens, I. W. Oliver, J. von Ehrenbrook, J. Waddell, and J. Zurawski, Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature Studies 38 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2018), 232–50, also in Sexuality and Gender: Collected Essays, WUNT 458 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2021), 223–40; Keener, John, 762. 26

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with the followers of John the Baptist. Thus, while the Synoptic Gospels portray John the Baptist as using the immersion rite creatively to offer people a preparedness for the judgement, including forgiveness of sins, the author of the fourth gospel reduces him to simply a witness to Jesus, almost certainly a deliberate misrepresentation. Similarly, and much more significantly, the author now uses imagery once employed of Torah to refer no longer to Torah, but only to Jesus. Thus, he alone, now, is the Word, the true light, life, bread. In place of the gift of Torah given by God via Moses, God has now given Jesus, the Word, as 1:16–17 puts it. 27 Torah (and Scripture generally as a rich source of imagery) is now primarily the witness to the one who brings life, namely Jesus and Jesus alone. It is not a source of life. This is a devaluation of Torah and Scripture and for those who lived by it a misrepresentation. The author can make this move while at the same time claiming continuity with the old. He does so by portraying key elements of the past, the covenant of Moses, especially the temple and the festivals, as earthly reflections of the new reality that has come with Jesus, who himself is the real temple and whose ministry now brings the light, water and bread once part of the ancient festivals. While careful never to disparage the old or to suggest it was given by anyone other than God (1:17), the author nevertheless repositions it, demoting it, so that its sole role now is to be a witness to the new which has replaced it. In this sense the claims for the new are at the expense of the old and, explained in this way, are developed as a means of boosting morale and offering comfort for those who have had to grapple with the break. The claims that only in Jesus and his faith community is life to be found disenfranchises the old, delegitimizes the covenant and, as one might imagine, this did not sit well with those for whom their faith had always been a source of life and hope and healing. Thus, while the author never disparages individual elements of the old, for instance, as never making sense, as Mark’s portrait of Jesus in 7:1–23 suggests, the overall effect of consigning the past to the past and to the level of the flesh which, though not evil, is of no profit (6:62) is, in effect, a disparagement. This is to achieve for his hearers a sense of continuity, but at great cost. In the Gospel according to John we find, therefore, a mixture of genuine dissent over substance, for which dissenters are deemed blameworthy but, beyond that, a tendency to denigrate them as persons and denigrate their faith tradition while laying claim to it in seriously truncated form.

27

Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 443–46.

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Comparative Observations I conclude with some comparative observations. There is a striking contrast between John and Matthew. Matthew, following Q tradition, which doubtless reflects Jesus’ own stance, has Jesus declare that not a stroke of Torah is to be set aside (5:17–19; Luke 16:17). Rather than replacing Torah or fulfilling it by setting it aside, Matthew’s Jesus upholds and expounds it. This is all the more interesting because, like John, Matthew appears to be writing in a context of conflict and dissent in relation to fellow Jews and this dissent relates primarily also to “over the top” claims being made about Jesus, namely, christology.28 Matthew does not deal with the dissent by denigrating the tradition, though there is ad hominem argument in the generalising attacks on scribes and Pharisees as hypocrites, especially in chapter 23, reflecting hurt and anger at their dissent. At the other end of the spectrum and much closer to John is the Letter to the Hebrews. Using popular platonic categories mixed with apocalyptic ideology, it, too, acknowledges that what it calls the old covenant was given by God but argues that what it established was an earthly pattern or copy of heavenly realities, and, as John argued, this earthly pattern also foreshadowed what was to come.29 Again, we see considerable effort having been undertaken to affirm continuity while fundamentally arguing discontinuity, that is, that the new replaces the old. Reference to dissent is only indirect and may lie more in the author’s past or at least be viewed as something which his listeners might experience in themselves existentially as they grappled with continuity and discontinuity, especially Jews and proselytes. As in John’s gospel, continuity is asserted on the basis of divinely intended discontinuity, a salvation-historical discontinuity, from God, who having spoken in many and various ways through the prophets then spoke through his Son (1:1). The discontinuity in Hebrews focuses less on who Jesus was during his earthly life and what he did, although it emphasises his solidarity, based on having to hold off the temptation to give up under pressure of persecution and suffering, also apparently significant for the author and his listeners who are encouraged to look to Jesus as therefore a sympathetic intercessor on their behalf as they face similar situations (2:18; 4:14–16; 7:25). The focus is primarily on the achievement of Jesus’ death, which the author creatively 28 On this, see William R. G. Loader, “Matthew and John: Two Different Responses to a Similar Situation,” in The Gospel of Matthew in Its Historical and Theological Context, ed. Mikhail Seleznev, William R. G. Loader, and Karl-Wilhelm Niebuhr, WUNT 459 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2021), 301–13, chapter 9 in this volume. 29 William R. G. Loader, “The People of God, the Old Order and the Old Testament in the Epistle to the Hebrews” Trinity Occasional Papers 3 (1985): 68–77, chapter 17 in this volume.

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expounds by a typological explanation based on a selective use of elements of the Atonement Day ritual. Accordingly, Jesus, having died, takes his blood to God in the heavenly Holy of Holies and presents the achievement of his atoning death before God. 30 This affirmation to enhance the faith of believers carries with it certain assumptions which come under the category of denigration. For it implies that atonement, understood as forgiveness of sins, was not possible before Jesus’ death. Indeed, the faithful of old had to wait for it to be achieved before they could enter the heavenly realm (11:39). In order to emphasise the achievement of Christ’s death, the author denies that the old achieved anything more than to be a pointer to this achievement. Sometimes the author goes beyond John who also reduces the old to merely the earthly, the world of the flesh (not a negative moral category but expressing a level of reality), as foreshadowing what was to come. For he can use words like “useless” to describe its rituals (7:18) and write dismissively of its sacrifices, reflecting, from our contemporary crosscultural sensitivity, a limited understanding of the complex significance of sacrifices in religious cultures. The author’s truth about Christ and his death is thus emphasised at the expense of the old, which is in effect disparaged. It is hard to reconcile such claims with the richness of faith we can observe in socalled Old Testament faith. Dissent has become disparagement. Truth is often the casualty of the desire to make exclusive claims. In response we can find ourselves affirming what people affirm but denying what they felt they had to deny. Decisions then as now about how to retain integrity in dissent can be complicated by the fear of denying authority, especially religious or even divine authority. The respect for the divine authority of Israel’s tradition produced the constructions of John and Hebrews which affirmed continuity with the old by asserting divinely intended discontinuity and diminishing it value. There were other less absolutist alternatives, such as we find in Matthew. How far Matthew really wanted his listeners to uphold every stroke of the Law is uncertain. We, at least, see significant prioritising and differentiation between greater and lesser commandments (5:18–19). Elsewhere, such as in Paul and similarly, to some extent, in Mark, we see a more differentiated approach which assumes that divine authority warrants the flexibility to adjust to new situations and insights, such as in the setting aside of circumcision and much else, and in Mark’s case, more radically, in the recognition that some laws, for instance about food and purity, not only no longer but never made sense, while asserting the priority of keeping the decalogue commandments as the anecdote of the rich man and Jesus shows.

30 William R. G. Loader, “Revisiting High Priesthood Christology in Hebrews,” ZNW 109 (2018): 235–83, chapter 18 in this volume.

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Concluding Reflections Dissent is not to be feared or escalated into hatred or disparagement. To affirm anything is to open up the possibility that others may disagree. That can be trifling or deadly serious and produce intense debate. That is healthy. Respect does not mean pretending to agree. It means acknowledging difference and conflict but keeping the conflict on topic and not sliding into disparagement of the person or denying value in the other where it is clearly present. In the heat of Christian beginnings we observe a range of approaches to dissent, sometimes richly insightful, instructive and exemplary, sometimes modelling unhealthy responses. The message of divine grace which finds its way in and out of these ancient texts can guide good and healthy dissent still in our own day and also help us to see where it loses its way.

Hebrews

17. The People of God, the Old Order, and the Old Testament in the Epistle to the Hebrews In this study I shall consider the significance of the way the author of Hebrews handles the old order and the Old Testament. This is at the same time a first step towards understanding the situation the readers are facing and to which the epistle is addressed. I shall be less concerned with tracing his use of individual citations of the Old Testament and their text forms and more with his method in relating the Old Testament to the faith of his own day. This study is dedicated in gratitude to my Old Testament colleague, Chris Mackaay, who has also laboured to relate the Old Testament to the faith of his day and ours. I have linked “the old order” and “the Old Testament” because they represent two poles in the author’s thought. On the one hand, he quotes from the Old Testament as the authoritative word of God (for example, 3:7–11; see also 4:12–13); on the other, he can demolish the old order, which has been set forth in the Old Testament, as ineffectual/useless and inadequate, not only because it has been replaced by a new and better order but also because it was never any good in the first place. 7:18–19 illustrates the negative evaluation: “There is, on the one hand, the abrogation of an earlier commandment because it was weak and ineffectual (for the law made nothing perfect); there is, on the other hand, the introduction of a better hope, through which we approach God.” How is it possible that in one breath the author speaks so scathingly of the old order, while at the same time he acknowledges that it had been ordained by God? How can he treat such passages of the Old Testament so negatively, while using others as authoritative support for his message? Other important questions include: why, in particular, does he concentrate in some depth on the order of atonement in the Old Testament? And what is at stake in his handling of the Old Testament and its order?

The Old Testament as Authority Before turning to the matter of the author’s attitude towards the old order, we shall review the authoritative use he makes of the Old Testament. He does this in a variety of ways. Sometimes he calls the attention of the readers to the examples of men and women of Old Testament times as worthy of emulation. Chapter 11 contains the most famous instances of this, where he gathers together examples of faith.

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He also cites examples of disobedience as warnings. The best known is his use of Psalm 95 in ch. 3–4, which holds up the wilderness generation as an example of hardness of heart. Another way the author uses Old Testament material is by suggesting a development in God’s dealing with people in the history of salvation. The opening words of the epistle relate how God had spoken in various forms and in various ways through the prophets in the past but in these last days had brought his activity to a climax by speaking through a Son (1:1–2). This need not be understood as a negative slur on the prophets. Rather, there has been a shift to something greater in God’s manner of communication in the course of the history of salvation. The same idea lies behind 2:1–4, where God’s word through angels, the Law, is compared with his word through Jesus and the Church, a word even more to be revered and obeyed. The salvation-historical perspective also enables the author to point to a continuity in God’s actions in history through promise and fulfilment. The use of Jeremiah 31:31–34, the promise of the new covenant, illustrates this perspective. The promise is fulfilled in Christ (8:6–13) . Though not strictly promises, Psalm 2:7 and other enthronement sayings have the status of promises in the author’s theology. For he sees them fulfilled in Jesus. The salvation-historical perspective is of fundamental importance in the author’s understanding of how the new order has come to supplant the old. He speaks of the old order as having been Instituted by God “until the time of reformation” (9:10). In 10:9 he argues that it had to be abolished to make place for the new. The old order had a valid status and 9:15 says that Christ’s death atoned for sins committed against it. Much of the typology used by the author is developed within a salvationhistorical perspective. What God gave in the old order foreshadowed what was to come in the new. The author’s aim is not to justify the forms which the old order took, so much as to affirm the continuity of the new with the old. To be able to point to a correspondence affirms that God is at work. The God who then ordained these forms has now given to us what they foreshadowed. Such continuity makes it possible to claim a scriptural authority for the new. The patterns of God’s hand are manifest in both the old and the new. Set within the salvation-historical perspective, typology serves to show that the new appropriately replaces the old and, in that sense, fulfils it. So Christ was as well qualified as any high priest could be and far more so (4:15; 5:1–3). Like them, he, too, was not self-appointed (5:4–5), but more: his appointment was forever (5:6). The best example of such correspondence and supersession is in the Atonement Day typology. Jesus was like the high priests in that he made atonement for the sins of the people, but more: he made atonement once and for all (9:7, 11–12). Like them, he entered the Holiest Place, but for him it was the original heavenly one (9:11–12; 8:2). The detailed parallels could be

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extended. It mattered to the author to have been able to point to such correspondences, for God had ordained the first order and it was important to show that God had replaced it in such a way that one can see how the new fulfils the old and stands in continuity with what God has done in the past. On some occasions it appears the author has deliberately modified the Old Testament text or changed its sense, in order to show continuity and fulfilment. Thus, in speaking of Abraham and the patriarchs as examples of faith in 11:8– 16, he claims that they set their sights on the heavenly city. What appears to be happening here is that the author is offering an “intentional” or existential interpretation, as if he were to say: the ultimate goal or concern of Abraham’s yearning was the same as ours, even though scripture may describe his journey as one upon which he set out without knowing where he was going. The same method of interpretation lies behind the use of “rest” in the author’s exposition of Psalm 95:11 (4:1–11). Originally, it referred to the promised land of Canaan. Using techniques of exegesis familiar to us from the time, the author finally identifies this “rest” with the Sabbath rest of heaven itself. The effect is to identify their goal with ours. So also in ch. 11 the story of the people of faith is set within a single perspective: the journey to the promised heavenly rest. Believers may know themselves to be in continuity with witnesses of faith who have travel led the road before them. Christ the pioneer has reached the goal so that all who have held faithfully to its promise may enter in (11:39; 12:1–2, 23). Sometimes the author uses exhortations from the Old Testament without having to relate them to the question of continuity. They are timeless sayings of wisdom. For example, the affirmation that vengeance belongs to God (Deut 32:35; Heb 10:30) or the exhortation to patience in suffering (Prov 3:11–12; Heb 12:5–6). In these various ways the author uses the Old Testament as authoritative understands himself and his community as being the people of God, standing in true succession to the faithful of Israel and sharing the heritage of the holy scriptures. He is not undertaking a comparison between his own faith and the faith of the Old Testament as a faith foreign to his own and his readers. He is working at an understanding of the new which takes the old fully into account as part of God’s prior revelational activity.

The Old Order Rejected While the opening statement of the epistle is designed primarily to highlight the coming of the word through the Son, the contrast it states also has negative implications. The final word came “son-wise,” the earlier word came “through the prophets,” whose being does not in any measure match what the lofty statements which follow in 1:2–4 say about the Son. The word which came

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through them came in various forms and ways, in partial and piecemeal fashion. I do not believe the author intends here to attack the old order at this point. The contrast is from good to better, rather than from bad to good. Nevertheless, some insufficiency is implied. Similarly, the contrast in 2:1–4 between the word given through the angels and the word spoken by the Son is designed primarily to highlight the latter, not to attack the former. He does not argue, as Paul does (Gal 3:19–20), that angelic mediation is a “minus point.” In the same way, the comparison with Moses in 3:1–6 serves to illustrate something about Christ, not to attack Moses, though the author is careful to set Moses in his proper place as one who was faithful as a servant, whereas Christ was faithful as a Son. He never suggests that Moses was unfaithful. Putting Moses in his rightful place recalls the author’s putting the angels in their rightful place beneath Christ (1:4–14). Behind both is probably a concern that people not overvalue Moses or the angels; but it is not a concern to devalue them as such and therefore the covenant with which they are associated. Nor does the unfaithfulness of the wilderness generation imply anything negative about the old order. It says something negative about those who disobeyed it! The beginnings of a negative attitude towards the old order may appear already in 5:3, which mentions that the high priests had to atone not only for their people’s sins but for their own as well. In 4:15 he had referred to Christ’s sinlessness. But this is another of those occasions where the author introduces information which he will develop only later in the epistle. It is not until ch. 7 that the negative contrast begins in earnest. He turns here to the promised exposition of Psalm 110:4 (see 5:11). Having noted that Genesis 14 records Abraham as having given tithes to Melchizedek, the author argues that this implies the superiority of the priesthood of Melchizedek over the Levitical priesthood which arose among Abraham’ s descendants. To give tithes and to receive blessings is to acknowledge one’s inferiority (7:1–10). What the author does here has a double significance. It affirms the superiority of Christ’s high priesthood. In that sense, the contrast functions similarly to that between Jesus and Moses and the angels. But in addition it is making a deliberately negative comment about the old priesthood and its order. That was an order of mortal priests. Melchizedek’s is one of priests who have a different quality of existence (7:8). In the following verses this negative contrast is developed. “Now if perfection [salvation] had been attainable through the levitical priesthood – for the people received the law under this priesthood – what further need would there have been to speak of another priest arising according to the order of Melchizedek, rather than one according to the order of Aaron?” (7:11). The author links the priesthood with its administration of the Law, the old order, arguing that the old order was incapable of bringing “perfection,” that is, of qualifying the people for access to the presence of God by dealing

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adequately with their sin. He continues: “For when there is a change in the priesthood, there is necessarily a change in the law as well” (7:12). The point is pressed home further by the note that Jesus himself did not come from the tribe of Levi but the tribe of Judah (7:13–14), confirming that the old order had indeed been superseded. The fact that a priest of the Melchizedekian order has arisen clinches the argument that the old order has been replaced. The author concludes: “There is, on the one hand, the abrogation of an earlier commandment because it was weak and ineffectual (for the Law made nothing perfect); there is, on the other hand, the introduction of a better hope, through which we approach God” (7:18–19). This argument goes far beyond an attempt to make a positive statement about Jesus. It is direct attack on the old order. The old order does not work, for it fails to bring salvation. The promise of the new and the fact that it has come imply the inadequacy of the old. The author has an interest in making such strongly negative statements and it relates to the situation which he addresses. In the remainder of the chapter the focus turns again towards the positive. 7:20–22 affirms the significance of Jesus’ priesthood by drawing attention to the twofold certainty of God’s promise in Psalm 110:4: God spoke these words and accompanied them by an oath. 7:23–25 contrasts the mortality of the priests of the old order with the permanence given the new because of who Christ is. 7:26–28 expands this contrast by drawing attention to the need the former high priests had to repeat their sacrifices, whereas Christ made a sacrifice which was once and for all sufficient, enabling him to take up the ministry of intercession on high without interruption. The contrast in 8:1–6 between the heavenly and the earthly temples and their corresponding ministries could also be taken primarily as highlighting the special character of Jesus’ ministry. Yet the author uses the report of Moses’ having seen the heavenly temple and having made the earthly one as its copy to establish a qualitative distinction. He evaluates heavenly and earthly against a popular platonic background and combines this qualitative distinction with an argument based on what the new order could achieve. It was based on better promises (8:6). In 8:7 the author goes over into attack as he had in 7:11–19 and uses a similar method of argumentation. “For if that first covenant had been faultless, there would have been no need to look for a second one.” He proves that a place was being sought for a second by quoting Jeremiah 31:31–34, and, as in 7:11, uses this to prove that the old must have been inadequate, otherwise no such prophecy would exist. “In speaking of ‘a new covenant’, he has made the first one obsolete. And what is obsolete and growing old will soon disappear” (8:13). Thus in 7:11–19 and 8:7–13 the author is concerned not just to use the old as a foil for the new. His comments go far beyond what that would require. He is directly attacking the old order in itself.

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After outlining the Atonement Day ritual in 9:1–7, the author makes an initial evaluation. The two fold structure of the temple proves the inadequacy of the old order to achieve the goal of salvation for all (9:8). In 9:9–10, the author applies this to the situation of the readers who face claims from those who follow the old order. The old order cannot make the conscience fit for approach to God. The attacks of 7:11–19 and 8:7–13 doubtless relate to the same situation as the one addressed in 9:9–10. Within 9:10, we find the presence of two kinds of argument. The reference to foods and drinks and various washings is derogatory. The reference to the “time of reformation” is a salvation-historical argument, which disqualifies the old order on the grounds that it has been superseded in God’s plan. The same twofold argument is reflected in 9:11–14. Christ is high priest “of the good things that have come” in contrast to what existed before. But the major arguments concern quality. His ministry led him into the heavenly temple with his own blood. The emphasis upon the heavenly temple as one not made with hands, that is, not of this creation, uses the popular platonic qualitative contrast we noted already in 8:1–6. The references to animal’s blood and to the ashes of the heifer are derogatory. Such physical material things cannot help the soul. The implication is that the old order is useless in achieving what matters, true atonement, because it operates on an inferior level with inferior means. All it achieved was at this inferior level, it “sanctifies those who have been defiled so that their flesh is purified” (9:14). 9:11–14 both affirms Christ’s high-priesthood and attacks the old. 9:15–22 has less to say negatively about the old. It even uses basic principles of the old order to make a point about Christ’s sacrifice: “Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins” (9:22). 9:23–28 returns to the two-sided argument, affirming Christ’ s ministry and making negative evaluations of the old. The old is an earthly copy of the heavenly (9:23). This was the platonic scheme of evaluation. In 9:24 it continues, referring to the old temple as an antitype, a creation of human hands. 10:1–4 turns more directly against the old order. It is the shadow, not the real thing (10:1). It did not work, for it could not achieve access for the worshippers. It depended on inferior means. Had it worked, its sacrifices would not have been repeated. On the contrary, their repetition kept the consciousness of sin alive. The same methods of argument have already been used earlier. 10:5–10 includes the author’s use of Psalm 40:7–9. The author might have used the words “sacrifices and offerings you have not desired” as an argument against the idea of sacrifices as a whole. He does not. Instead, he contrasts Christ’s single sacrifice with the many unwanted sacrifices. While primarily a positive statement about Christ, 10:5–10 is also a statement disqualifying the old order and its sacrifices. God did not want them! 10:9 relates this to God’s abolishing the first order that he might establish the second.

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10:11 echoes 10:2 in underlining that the old sacrifices could never deal adequately with sins. Christ alone has done this (10:12). Had the contrast with the old order been serving only as a foil to elevate Christ’s priesthood, we could expect the author to stop at this climax. Instead, he goes on in 10:15–18 to drive another nail into the coffin of the old order. Having quoted Jeremiah’s prophecy of a new covenant which would bring forgiveness, the prophecy he had already cited at length in ch. 8, the author concludes: “Where there is forgiveness of sins, there is no longer an offering for sin” (10:18). 10:19–25 has no negative comment on the old order. 10:26–31 makes the kind of contrast we noted in 2:1–4. Ch. 11 offers no negative comment beyond the closing statement that the people of the old order did not reach their journey’s goal until the new order was established (11:39–40). He had already argued that the old order was unable to achieve “perfection,” that is, make it possible for people to reach their journey’s goal in heaven. The “the spirits of the righteous made perfect” referred to in 12:23 almost certainly means the saints of ch. 11. Within ch. 12, the author hints again at the assaults of the old order upon the faith of the readers when he holds before them the negative example of Esau who sold his birthright for food (12:15–17; see also 9:9–10; 13:9) . At first sight, the contrast in 12:18–24 between the word of God at Sinai and the vision of a heavenly Jerusalem with its word recalls 2:1–4. An application of the contrast similar to 2:1–4 follows in 12:25. But within the description of Sinai (12:18–21), strongly negative traits are apparent. “Something that can be touched, a blazing fire, and darkness, and gloom, and a tempest” are categories on the negative end of the platonic scale of values and suggest that what took place was something belonging very much to the earth and of an inferior Level. Probably the terror the author paints into the scene is also understood negatively. The old order belongs to the tangible and the material, not to the eternal. The tangible and “shakeable” will be destroyed, argues the author (12:27–28). 13:7–17 speaks of strange teachings about food and these are to be seen against the background of a form of Judaism bringing pressure upon the readers. The comments about having no lasting city here on earth are doubtless directed against the faith of Jerusalem, Judaism. Reviewing the negative comments about the old order in the epistle, we note that at a number of points the author is sharply critical of the old order in itself (7:11–19; 8:7–13; 9:8–10; 10:1–4, 11, 18). A thread running through all these passages is the assertion that the old order did not work. It did not bring “perfection;” it did not equip people and enable them to reach the goal of salvation in the Holiest Place before God. Even the best people of the old order did not succeed in reaching this goal. Beside this thread is another which relates the failure to an inherent incapacity within the old order to achieve any such thing because it operated at the lower levels of reality, flesh and blood of

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animals, mortal human priests, shadows and copies of the true realities found in the heavenly world. A third major strand is a logical argument: no one promises a new without implying deficiency in the old. This argument is more closely related to the salvation-historical perspective than the other two, since it allows one to say that God gave one order for a period, only to replace it at a later stage by another which it had prefigured and in which it is now fulfilled. The problem posed by the first two strands of the author’s argument against the old order is that it appears that, on the one hand, he is saying the old order is inherently useless and ineffective and, on the other, that it was ordained by God and belongs within the Old Testament which he uses as God’s authoritative word. Our third section will take up this question.

Old Testament and Old Order: Two Fronts It would have been possible for the author to use the old order as a foil for the new without implying any more than that it had been something good superseded by something better. He does in fact do this on a number of occasions. But he also argues in the opposite direction, attacking the old order as inherently useless and ineffective. Why? To my mind the double stance of the author only makes sense if he sees the old order needing to be countered in some way in the present situation in which his readers are involved. 9:9 already suggests a contemporary link and relates it to foods and drinks and various washings. “Food” also features as a matter of controversy on two other occasions where the author addresses the dangers facing his readers (12:15–17; 13:9). The readers faced pressure from teachings which had a Jewish base and so belonged to the old order. It also seems likely that to have taken up those teachings would have given the readers the protection belonging within the Jewish “camp.” In the light of this it makes sense that the author wants to attack the old order in itself. When he does so, he is fighting on the front directed against this kind of Jewish influence. He uses all the weapons at his disposal, not only those of the salvation-historical perspective, but also those which are based on a popular platonic dualism and more. Because the readers face this kind of threat coming from Judaism, the author is also active on another front. He wants to reassure the readers that their faith stands in legitimate continuity with the faith of the people of God of old. He wants to strengthen their confidence about the validity of their position. Here he employs a variety of methods, citing the authority of scriptural warrant, showing fulfilment of scriptural promise in the events of Christ’s coming, establishing by typology a pattern of correspondence which shows the new as foreshadowed by the old, and identifying the inarticulate hopes of the faithful of Israel as the goals towards which Christ alone can lead us.

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It is only when we take statements he made on both fronts and set them side by side that problems arise. He shows no indication that he sensed any problems. Had he done so, he might have developed a synthesis. He comes close to doing so in 9:13–14 where he attributes a legitimate function to the old order. It achieved purification of the flesh. But elsewhere he seems to imply that such purification is irrelevant anyway. One synthesis he offers begins from a salvation-historical perspective. The old was ordained by God, just as God did speak through the prophets. But now he has communicated himself in a new way. The old order is superseded. But to make the synthesis complete we should have to say that God ordained for Israel an order which was inherently incapable of achieving salvation. What it did was prefigure the new order, which alone would bring both to Israel and the world what they needed. There are theological problems in making such a statement. The author does not make it. The author has not tied up all the loose ends. He has not constructed a totally integrated system which may be traced in the epistle. Nor, on the other hand, does he present us with a mixture of unsorted ideas. It is his pastoral concern as a theologian which has led him to speak so strongly and go effectively on two fronts, as, on the one hand, he develops a sense of continuity among his readers with the people of God of old, and, on the other hand, exposes before them the futility of following the invitation to apostasise toward Judaism, or a form of Jewish Christianity that had appeal. While we cannot produce from the author’s statements a neat system and must acknowledge that at points he makes statements which are in tension with what he says elsewhere, we can, nevertheless, observe the main features of his method and the criteria he employs in arguing for the truth. These include whether something belongs to the heavenly or the earthly level of reality and whether it deals with the spiritual or the temporal or fleshly. He also employs rational logic when arguing that repetition proves the insufficiency of sacrifices (10:2–3) and promise of the new proves the inadequacy of the old. When using the Old Testament he does not feel bound to defend everything he finds in scripture. In that sense he is not a literalist, however unusual his exegetical method at times; nor is he, in the modern sense, a fundamentalist. For him the primary thing is the word spoken through the Son. It is the ultimate criterion. The “real thing” is Christ and his work. In the light of it, what came before is its pale reflection. The “real thing” does not exist in isolation, for it is the climax of God’s dealing with his people. Therefore the account of those dealings, the Old Testament, is important for enabling the author to demonstrate continuity between the old and the new by showing the correspondence between the forms of the old and forms of the new. This way he can strengthen the faith of the readers. Many words spoken by God once in history continue to speak in the author’s time and he cites their authority.

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But the concern for continuity is not at the expense of overlooking the humanity of scripture and tradition. Not that the author discredits parts of the Old Testament. Rather he appears to have affirmed all along that the ordinances which came into being had been ordained by God. But it is as though he is saying God was seen then only in the mist. The forms which enshrined that revelation were not able to be anything other than shadows of the real. The forms and shapes represent patterns created on the landscape of those times, figures which were produced through the mist in response to the true, eternal forms of heaven. The author certainly used a form of popular platonic dualism which could express itself in such terms. Perhaps he might have found a synthesis here. Could he have seen the forms of the old religion as the forms appropriate to a particular age because of its setting and culture? Would he have considered these old forms as the way the refracted light fell in Israel’s land and that now in his day a clearer vision rendered such patterns obsolete? We can only speculate. What he gives us are statements less concerned with speculation and more concerned with concrete issues facing those for whom he cared. We might ask how he would have seen the light being refracted in our day and falling upon an Australian landscape? Would he chide our devotion to the forms of religious establishment in order and liturgy? Would he identify with our commitment to continuity and tradition? Would he offer a sympathetic hermeneutic for understanding the religious traditions of others? I think he would do all these. Perhaps we might hold dialogue with him about his Platonism. He might upturn the imagery and talk of surface structures and deeper reality rather than higher reality. But his theme would alter little: Christ’s solidarity with us on the path of that deeper reality; Christ’s lordship over the oppressive powers, however angelic their form or origin; Christ’s all sufficient grace which sets us free to be God’s people and to manifest the recognizable patterns of his work amid and over against the forms and structures of Australian society.

18. Revisiting High Priesthood Christology in Hebrews Introduction This paper revisits one of the aspects of the christology of Hebrews which I addressed in my doctoral dissertation completed mid-1972 and published after delay (outside my control) as Sohn und Hoherpriester. Eine traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zur Christologie des Hebräerbriefes, WMANT 53 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1981). My focus then was driven in part by interest in the development of christological titles, on which my Doktorvater, Ferdinand Hahn, was a pioneer, but also more broadly by the questions: what does the received text say and what might have lain behind it? Hebrews is surprisingly rich in its use of what we recognise as traditional material. It knows and expounds the tradition already attested in Paul of linking Christ’s death, Ps 110:1 and Ps 8:7, to affirm his exalted status (1 Cor 15:20– 28; Rom 8:34; cf. also Eph 1:20–23; 1 Pet 3:18–22). 1 Like Paul in Rom 1:3–4, it knows the royal messianic tradition which applies Ps 2:7 to Jesus’ enthronement: “You are my Son; today you have become my Son” (1:5; 5:5), but also knows the discourse of Wisdom christology which affirms Jesus as pre-existent Son through whom and for whom all things were made and who holds all together (1:2–3; cf. 1:10–12), most dramatically attested in the Johannine prologue but also in Col 1:15–20. More importantly, it holds these diverse traditions together in an integrated whole in affirming the Son’s superiority to the angels in chapter one. What struck me about Hebrews’ use of the motif of Jesus as high priest was the way that until chapter 9 its focus is primarily on Jesus as high priestly intercessor, praying for help for his own. The focus of that help is not forgiveness of sins (as in 1 John 2:1–2), but help not to commit sin, in particular, not to succumb to the pressure to abandon one’s faith. The message of encouragement, that Jesus has also passed through suffering and so known the temptation to quit, runs alongside critical contrasts with the old order. Within this framework of thought it is clear that Jesus takes up his priestly role as intercessor after his exaltation. Either the author or already his tradition exploited a christological reading of Psalm 110 to bring together his enthronement declared in v. 1 with his depiction as priest according to the order

1 William R. G. Loader, “Christ at the Right Hand – Ps. cx.1 in the New Testament,” NTS 24 (1978/79): 199–217.

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of Melchizedek (v. 4). The notion of the enthroned Christ as intercessor on behalf of his own occurs in the context of the Ps 110:1 exaltation tradition already in Rom 8:34, though there without priestly motifs. We are already as far as Hebrews 8 within this framework, but then the author’s exposition creates complications by introducing Atonement Day typology. Two problems arise immediately. If according to that framework Jesus was appointed high priest at his exaltation, how can he be seen as acting as high priest already in his death? Was he already high priest before his death? Then, secondly, what was it that achieved atonement according to the author: his death or his action in the heavenly world, in the Holy of Holies? One could interpret the data to indicate the following: after his death he was appointed high priest and then as high priest he took the blood from his death and achieved atonement by sprinkling it in the Holy of Holies, like the high priest on the Day of Atonement. The problem with such a reconstruction is that the author already speaks of Jesus as high priest before his death and, indeed, can write of him, at least on one reading, as achieving salvation before he entered the heavenly world. My analysis suggested that, as with the notion of sonship, so with the notion of high priesthood, the author understood already Jesus’ taking human flesh as a high priestly act, taking on the body prepared for him (10:5–6). This entails recognising that the tradition linking his appointment as high priest to his exaltation should be treated similarly to the way we treat his appointment as Son at his exaltation. Accordingly, the author is embracing and adapting a traditional discourse which originally reflected on Jesus’ heavenly exalted status, but he integrates it within a wider christological framework which can understand Jesus as Son and high priest already before his incarnation. Thus in Hebrew 9–10, in particular, he draws into the motif of high priesthood the widespread tradition of Christ’s death as atoning and does so by employing Atonement Day typology. This creates some tension because he is bringing together tradition which sees Jesus’ death as a sacrifice for sins with a typological model in which the death of the animal is merely preparatory and what achieves atonement is the sprinkling of the blood in the Holy of Holies. Does the author thereby relocate the saving act of Jesus to the heavenly Holy of Holies and treat his death as merely preparatory or does he retain the focus on Jesus’ death as saving, thereby treating the motif of sprinkling blood in the Holy of Holies not as the saving event but as presenting, as it were, his blood as representing what he had achieved in his death? The latter seems more probable. It fits a cosmology according to which the Holy place and Most Holy Place of the Heavenly temple are in the heavenly realm which Jesus enters after his death, whereas the altar where the animals were sacrificed is outside, in front of the sanctuary, that is, on earth where Jesus was crucified. I believe that this gives a coherent account both of what is in the text and also of what traditions lie behind it and how the author has employed them.

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This then reads Hebrews as assuming that Christ is high priest already in his pre-existence, supported also by the author’s application of Melchizedek tradition to Jesus as ȝ੾IJİ ਕȡȤ੽Ȟ ਲȝİȡ૵Ȟ ȝ੾IJİ ȗȦોȢ IJ੼ȜȠȢ ਩ȤȦȞ, ਕijȦȝȠȚȦȝ੼ȞȠȢ į੻ IJ૶ ȣੂ૶ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨, ȝ੼ȞİȚ ੂİȡİઃȢ İੁȢ IJઁ įȚȘȞİț੼Ȣ (7:3), as he is also Son from the beginning and that within this framework of thought he integrates traditions which derive from royal messianic christology linked closely with Ps 110:1, but possibly also 110:4, which would explain the notion of his being appointed high priest – at least for the heavenly role as intercessor – at his exaltation. I see the author’s christological exposition as designed to offer assurance (a) of Christ’s intercessory support as the addressees face the prospect of suffering which might tempt them to give up; (b) of the all sufficiency of Christ’s sacrifice which guarantees their destiny on the path of faith to be with him in the heavenly world; and (c) of their not being mistaken in their new faith because it is superior and supplants either the faith they once had or the faith which offers itself as a safer alternative and which they may be tempted to join, hence the sustained effort to discredit its claims to continuing validity but based on shared assumptions about biblical authority. Such was the argument in my work of 45 years ago. I turn now to address some of the key areas of dispute and the way they have been handled in subsequent research.

Typology Matching Atonement Day One of the major issues in interpreting the author’s understanding of Jesus’ high priesthood is the extent to which what he describes as the ritual of Atonement Day governs the way he sees the significance of Jesus’ life and death. One can mount an argument for seeing the author applying the Atonement Day consistently to the way he understands Jesus as high priest. Accordingly, the death of Jesus had no significance in itself except as a preparatory act, like the slaughter of the animals on the Day of Atonement. The all-important act is the high priest’s entry into the Holy of Holies, and not that itself, but the sprinkling of the blood on the mercy seat. Accordingly, what achieves atonement in Jesus’ action as high priest is his doing the same, but in the heavenly Holy of Holies, namely entering with his blood in order to sprinkle it before God. An extension of this application of Atonement Day typology is to see Jesus, the heavenly high priest, as now also advocating for forgiveness of the sins of believers by pointing to the sprinkled blood, as part of his role as intercessor for his own. A number of scholars emphasise that the slaughter of the animal on the Day of Atonement was merely preparatory in order to support the view that the author sees also Jesus’ death as merely a preparatory act. As Michael Kibbe

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observes, this was already argued by Socinus in 1578. 2 Mostly it comes in the form of an argument that, as David Moffitt puts it, “the death of Jesus is the sine qua non for the atoning offering he makes in heaven,”3 but it is that offering, not Jesus’ death, which achieves atonement. Jody Barnard cites the Old Testament scholar, Richard D. Nelson, in speaking of the sacrifice of the animal and its equivalent in Christ’s death as “the first component in a larger sacrificial script,” 4 which provided the blood. In the words of Jody Barnard, “Like a high priest on the Day of Atonement (cf. Lev 16; Heb 9:7), Jesus enters within the veil, with the blood from his own death, to make atonement at the throne of God (Heb 1:3; 6:9–20; 9:11–12, 23–26; 10:19–20).”5 Nelson, himself, writes: “The value of his death, however, is not to be identified with the act of atonement itself.” 6 Thus he speaks of a “multi-stage act of sacrificial offering.”7 Typically, these scholars choose the legitimate option of reading the aorist participle in ĮੁȦȞ઀ĮȞ Ȝ઄IJȡȦıȚȞ İਫ਼ȡ੺ȝİȞȠȢ in 9:12 as referring to action contemporaneous with Christ’s entry into the Holy of Holies8 rather than the equally legitimate reading of it as referring to the past event of Jesus’ death. Thus the death simply sets this in motion. Usually this is done with some sensitivity towards the tradition of Jesus’ earthly life and death. Thus Georg Gäbel resists reducing the significance of Jesus’ earthly life and death, but nevertheless argues that it is not seen by the author as cultic in contrast to the heavenly offering in which that life and death is brought as an offering that effects purification:

2

Michael Kibbe, “Is it Finished? When did it Start? Hebrews, Priesthood, and Atonement in Biblical, Systematic, and Historical Perspective,” JTS 65 (2014): 25–61, 25–26. 3 David M. Moffitt, Atonement and the Logic of Resurrection in the Epistle to the Hebrews, NTS 141 (Leiden: Brill, 2011), 295. 4 Richard D. Nelson, “‘He Offered Himself’: Sacrifice in Hebrews,” Int 57 (2003): 251– 65, 254. 5 Jody A. Barnard, The Mysticism of Hebrews. Exploring the Role of Jewish Apocalyptic Mysticism in the Epistle to the Hebrews, WUNT 2.331 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 116. She writes: “According to Hebrews, Jesus ascended through the heavens, entered the heavenly sanctuary, and proceeded beyond the veil into the Holy of Holies, where he provided the definitive purification of sins and joined God upon the throne” (p. 213). The ritual dictates, she argues, that the atoning happens not at the slaughter but at the sprinkling (p. 134). 6 Nelson, “He Offered Himself,” 254. 7 Nelson, “He Offered Himself,” 255. 8 So also, for instance, Paul Ellingworth, The Epistle to the Hebrews. A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 453; William L. Lane, Hebrews, 2 vols., WBC 47 (Dallas: Word, 1991), 2.230; Harold W. Attridge, The Epistle to the Hebrews. A Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews, Hermeneia (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989), pointing to ਕȖĮȖંȞIJĮ (2:10) as a parallel use (p. 248).

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Christi auf Erden gelebtes Leben sowie seine nicht-opferkultische Hingabe bis zum Tod und im Tode sind der Grund seiner Erhöhung; durch die Erhöhung wird seine auf Erden vollzogene Selbsthingabe zum Inhalt seines himmlischen Opfers. Sein irdischer Weg führt Christus zum himmlischen Hohepriesteramt; sein himmlisches Hohepriestertum bringt die Bedeutsamkeit seines irdischen Weges fortwährend zur Geltung. So tragen die Aussagen über Christi irdisches Leben, Leiden und Sterben und die über seine Erhöhung und deren Konsequenzen gleichermaßen Gewicht.9

Accordingly, in the author’s adaptation of the Atonement Day antitype, what carries greatest significance is the heavenly offering.10 Based on a literal reading of 9:23 this includes the need to purify not just people but the heavenly temple itself, assumed to have been polluted. 11 Gäbel recognises however that the author’s Atonement Day typology is not a simple match, noting that the author does not take up the act of sprinkling,12 and that when blood is mentioned it refers to his obedient life. 13 “Die im Blut repräsentierte gehorsame Selbsthingabe seiner irdischen Existenz erschließt Christus den Zugang zum himmlischen Allerheiligsten (‘kraft seines eigenen Blutes’).”14 Gäbel then extends the typology to include an implied reference to Christ’s heavenly intercession as including prayer for forgiveness for sins his own would commit, reading it in 2:17 where he takes ੂȜ੺ıțİıșĮȚ in a non-cultic sense.15 “Während die Reinigung nach 1,3 der Inthronisation einmalig vorausging und fortan gültig bleibt, beschreibt der Infinitiv Präsens ੂȜ੺ıțİıșĮȚ in 2,17 ein fortdauerndes Wirken, das die einmalige Sündenreinigung durch das Opfer Christi immer neu – nun aber nicht opferkultisch – zur Geltung bringt.” 16 Similarly, he concludes: “Der himmlische Hohepriester bringt vor Gott sein einmaliges Selbstopfer für die Seinen zur Geltung. Er vermittelt ihnen Vergebung und Hilfe in Anfechtung.”17 Such integration of Christ’s intercessory role, understood as on behalf of his own for forgiveness of their 9

Georg Gäbel, Die Kulttheologie des Hebräerbriefes. Eine exegetisch-religionsgeschichtliche Studie, WUNT 2.212 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2006), 473. He comments earlier: “Das Heilswerk Christi ist nicht von irdischer, sondern von überlegen-himmlischer Art” (p. 309). 10 Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 287–88. 11 Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 424. 12 Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 288–89. 13 See also Dan O. Via, “Revelation, Atonement and the Scope of Faith in the Epistle to the Hebrews: A Deconstructive and Reader-Response Interpretation,” BibInt 11 (2003): 515–30, who concludes: “I would reverse the hierarchy of meanings in Hebrews and place the obedience motif in the dominant position. But I would retain a place for the sacrificial blood” (p. 525). 14 Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 290. 15 Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 212–27. 16 Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 226. 17 Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 478. Similarly, Matthias Rissi, Die Theologie des Hebräerbriefs, WUNT 41 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987), 81.

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sins, into reconstructions of Hebrews’ Atonement Day typology is widely advocated, usually read in association with the depiction of this as Christ’s role in 1 John 2:1–2. Moffitt argues similarly, noting that what achieves redemption is that “Jesus’ blood represents Jesus’ life/living presence appearing in the presence of God.”18 As in the antitype, the death is merely preparatory.19 Like Gäbel, he argues that “Jesus’ death is not directly correlated with sacrificial language” with the exception of 9:15 and 13:12.20 He, too, argues that the author does not envisage blood being brought into the divine presence, but Jesus bringing himself. “When he specifies where Jesus offered his sacrifice, he always locates that offering in heaven. […] Jesus’ indestructible, human life is what he brings into God’s presence and offers as his sacrifice.”21 Accordingly, the offering of his body to which 10:5–10 refers is not about the cross, but about that heavenly offering of himself. 22 Thus the author uses Psalm 40 “to present Jesus as the one who perfectly lived the very obedience to God that the new covenant promises.”23 Similarly he takes IJોȢ ıĮȡțઁȢ Į੝IJȠ૨ in 10:20 as referring to “his glorified incarnational existence.”24 The sacrifice he carried with him (his blood/body/self) both enabled him to pass through the veil of the heavenly tabernacle and served as the sacrifice he offered to God in order to obtain atonement. Like the blood carried by the high priest, the power of Jesus’ resurrection life not only protected him as he entered God’s presence, it was also the sufficient means for obtaining atonement. 25

Part of Moffitt’s aim is to demonstrate that therefore resurrection mattered for the author. It is what enabled him to present himself as an offering.26 Accordingly, referring to 9:12, 14, he argues, “Jesus’ offering of himself and presentation of his blood are functionally equivalent here.” 27 Similarly, Howard Marshall writes: “Christ’s sacrifice takes away sin by his self-offering in the presence of God in the heavenly tabernacle.”28 “The work 18

Moffitt, Atonement, 273; similarly, pp. 222–29. Moffitt, Atonement, 40–42, 271. 20 Moffitt, Atonement, 219. 21 Moffitt, Atonement, 218. 22 Moffitt, Atonement, 229–31. 23 Moffitt, Atonement, 245. “Could it be that the author conceived of Jesus’ body being offered in terms of his deliverance out of death rather than, as is widely assumed, the event of his death per se?” (p. 247). His answer is: yes. 24 Moffitt, Atonement, 283. 25 Moffitt, Atonement, 283. 26 Moffitt, Atonement, 296. He similarly argues that Hebrews 1–2 assume he took his humanity with him. 27 Moffitt, Atonement, 279. 28 I. H. Marshall, “Soteriology in Hebrews,” in The Epistle to the Hebrews and Christian Theology, ed. Richard Bauckham et al. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2009), 253–77, 270. 19

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of atonement was not completed until something had been done in heaven that ratified what had been done on the cross.” 29 And Scott Mackie affirms, “that the author consistently portrays Jesus’ self-offering holistically, with his suffering/death and exaltation always inseparably linked within a ‘single sacrificial script’.” 30 There are supporting arguments for this position which must be taken seriously. They include the statements that Jesus was appointed high priest only after his death, not before, so that he can have achieved atonement only after assuming that role, thus in heaven; 31 that according to 8:4a, he was not a priest on earth;32 quite apart from the logic of the Atonement Day model, already noted, according to which it was not the death of the animal but the sprinkling of its blood in the Holy of Holies which effected atonement. In addition, if 9:23 implies that the heavenly temple was contaminated and needed to be purified, then this, too, would suggest that it is the heavenly action of the high priest, Jesus, which makes all the difference. One might also point to Į੆ȝĮIJȚ ૧ĮȞIJȚıȝȠ૨ in 12:24 as a direct reference to such a heavenly achievement.33

Selective Typology and Atonement Day Traditions The exposition which sees a consistent correspondence between type and antitype, at least in relation to what achieved atonement, is impressive. At the same time this is not to deny that Hebrews makes selective use of the 29 Marshall, “Soteriology,” 271. This does, however, suggest that it is what happened on the cross that mattered primarily. 30 Scott D. Mackie, Eschatology and Exhortation in the Epistle to the Hebrews, WUNT 2.223 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 159, citing Nelson, “He offered himself,” 255. Mackie sees this as lending further support for a literal understanding of the Heavenly Sanctuary: “As the place where Jesus’ sacrifice is completed, the Heavenly Sanctuary must be as ‘real’ for both author and audience as the cross where Jesus’ self-offering began” (p. 159; similarly, p. 169). However, he does not deny the concrete historicity of Jesus’ death (pp. 175–176): “The author is careful, however, to not allow the cult cast given to Jesus’ death to overwhelm the reality of its concrete historicity” (p. 175). 31 Thus, with reference to ȖİȞંȝİȞȠȢ in 6:20, Barnard, Mysticism, writes: “[I]t is preferable to take the participle as expressing an action simultaneous with the main verb. Although prior priestly activity is not necessarily excluded, it remains clear that Christ did not fully assume the office of high priest until he entered the celestial Holy of Holies” (p. 131). 32 Referring to 8:4, Barnard, Mysticism, for instance, writes of “the exclusively heavenly location of Christ as high priesthood in Hebrews” (p. 130). See also the discussion under “Jesus as High Priest” below. 33 So Herbert Braun, An die Hebräer, HNT 14 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1984), 440; Alan C. Mitchell, Hebrews, SP 13 (Collegeville: Liturgical, 2007), 284; Attridge, Hebrews, 376–77.

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Atonement Day ritual in its typology. This is already apparent in the reconstructions outlined above, not least in the shift of emphasis from the sprinkling of blood to the entry itself, and the apparent avoidance of saying that Jesus as high priest entered with his blood, choosing instead the prepositions įȚȐ and ਥȞ (9:12, 25–26; 13:20). There is also no reference to Jesus’ as high priest first making an offering on his own behalf. 34 Gabriella Gelardini delineates twelve cultic actions which belong to the Atonement Day ritual, noting that Hebrews mentions only six of them, and omits reference to incense offering, the lots, the scapegoat, the dismissal, the blood sprinkling in the holy place and the court, and the offering of the fat.35 While an act of intercession on the part of the high priest is not one of these, there is tradition which depicts intercession as a role which the high priest might fulfil generally, though not in the context of Atonement Day ritual. As Wolfgang Kraus notes: “Die Vorstellung fürbittenden Handelns bei Gott ist im jüdischen Schrifttum breit belegt. Dies kann auch mit dem Tun eines Hohepriesters verbunden sein: Num 16,20–22; Sap 18,20–25; 2Makk 3,31; 2Makk 15,12. Jedoch wird dabei nicht der Begriff ਥȞIJȣȖȤȐȞȦ verwendet.” 36 34

Cf. Sebastian Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen. Christologie und Neuer Bund im Hebräerbrief, WMANT 113 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2007), who sees Jesus’ offering of prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears in 5,7 as the intended equivalent (pp. 111–12). Equally unconvincing is the proposal of Gabriella The Inauguration of Yom Kippur According to the LXX and Its Cessation or Perpetuation According to the Book of Hebrews: A Systematic Comparison,” in The Day of Atonement. Its Interpretations in early Jewish and Christian Traditions, ed. Thomas Hieke and Tobias Nicklas (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 225–54, that the author sees in 5:7 the equivalent of the high priest’s confessing of the sins of the people (p. 246). 35 Gelardini, “Yom Kippur,” 242–45. She concludes: “The above systematic comparison reveals an impressive theological effort on the author’s part, as he effectively and quite plausibly argues that Christ’s one sacrifice covers all sixteen sacrifices needed for Yom Kippur” (p. 247) and suggests that there were grounds for suppressing some of the twelve cultic elements: incense to exclude idea of the high priest putting God in a merciful mood and suppressing the blood sprinklings and the scapegoat, because no place on earth could absorb sin (p. 252). See also Mackie, Eschatology, who writes: “However, the author is not beholden to the entire Yom Kippur script, as evidenced by his omission of the incense (Lev 16:12–13) and scapegoat rituals (Lev 16:8–10, 21–22), as well as the high priest’s atonement for his own sins (Lev 16:6, 11, 17, 24; cf. Heb 7:26–27; 9:14)” (p. 177). Cf. Felix H. Cortez, “From the Holy to the Most Holy Place: The Period of Hebrews 9:6–10 and the Day of Atonement as a Metaphor of Transition,” JBL 125 (2006): 527–47, who notes differences from the Atonement Day antitype: the absence of reference to Azazel and of affliction of the soul; the reference to blood as offered not sprinkled, the author relating sprinkling to the covenant ritual (p. 528); to male goats (not in Atonement Day ritual); and to purification as occurring before Christ enters the heavenly temple (p. 528); and the conflating of the ritual of the ashes of the red heifer with Atonement Day (p. 529). 36 Wolfgang Kraus, “Zur Aufnahme und Funktion von Gen 14,18–20 und Ps 109 LXX im Hebräerbrief,” in Text – Textgeschichte – Textwirkung. Festschrift für Siegfried Kreuzer

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The primary elements which receive attention are, as Mackie rightly observes, “Jesus’ entry and self-offering.” 37 The allusion to the burning of the animal’s carcass outside the camp (13:11) is singular.38 The author’s playing with the imagery, such as in 10:20 with the reference to the veil, should make one cautious about seeking strict consistency or coherence in the author’s use of typology. This is all the more so because, as Mackie notes, “at the same time the author interpolates components of other sacred events and rituals, most notably that of the red heifer (Num 19; cf. Heb 9:13), the ordination of priests (Lev 8; cf. Heb 9:21), and the covenant inauguration (Exod 24; cf. Heb 9:18– 22).” 39 There is a certain looseness in the way the author makes reference to the Atonement Day antitype and associated elements, reflected in the fact that, in contrast to his direct citations from the Psalms and from Jeremiah about the covenant, he nowhere cites Leviticus directly. 40 Some have attributed most of such variations in Hebrews’ use of Atonement Day ritual to the author, himself, and his tendentiousness. Thus Susan Haber holds the author responsible for what she sees as deliberate inaccuracies such as inclusion of goats and calves and bulls in his depiction of Atonement Day ritual, and portraying it as a purification ritual. 41 That Hebrews refers to the red heifer ashes instead of sprinkled blood is a deliberate revision of the Yom Kippur rite that shifts its focus away from moral impurity and the atonement of sin to a notion of ritual impurity and the removal of physical but morally neutral barriers to worship […]. The polemic against Levitical sacrifice is both forceful and deliberate, as reflected in the author’s systematic revision of the Israelite cult. Levitical distinctions

zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Thomas Wagner, Jonathan Miles Robker, and Frank Ueberschaer, AOAT 419 (Münster: Ugarit, 2014), 459–74, 461. Similarly, Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen, 49, who notes the role of Moses as intercessor in 2 Macc 15:1–2 and Philo, who also associates intercession with high priesthood (pp. 48–50). 37 Mackie, Eschatology, 177. Similarly, Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen, 200; Gäbel, Kulttheologie, who adds intercession (p. 277). 38 Jared C. Calaway, The Sabbath and the Sanctuary. Access to God in the Letter to the Hebrews and Its Priestly Context, WUNT 2.349 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), writes of the loose use of imagery linking Jesus’ death in relation to the carcasses (p. 117). “Hebrews conflates Jesus’ suffering outside the city gates with both carcass-disposal outside the camp and the atoning sacrifice within the holy of holies on the mercy seat. In this sleight of hand, Hebrews opposes ‘outside the camp’ to the ‘tent’ from 13:10 and identifies it with the more perfect tent not made with hands from 9:11–12” (pp. 117–18). 39 Mackie, Eschatology, 177–78. 40 Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen, 175; Mayjee Philip, Leviticus in Hebrews. A Transtextual Analysis of the Tabernacle Theme in the Letter to the Hebrews (Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 2011), who suggests that “the author’s use of allusions and commentaries instead of quotations seems to be a deliberate choice to suit his hermeneutical purposes” (p. 78). 41 Susan Haber, “From Priestly Torah to Christ Cultus: The Re-Vision of Covenant and Cult in Hebrews,” in Susan Haber, “They Shall Purify Themselves.” Essays on Purity in Early Judaism, ed. Adele Reinhartz, SBLEJL 24 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 143–58, 154.

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between different types of sacrifices are blurred or not recognized, daily and annual rites are conflated, and common sin offerings are portrayed as an essential component of the daily rites. 42

She speaks of “a persistent and systematic dismantling of the Levitical code […]. The negative portrayal of Judaism in Hebrews may be characterized as a polemic against a competing theology of atonement that threatens the Christological view of expiation from sin.” 43 “Social groups inevitably define themselves against those with whom they are the closest, and the bond with Judaism was far stronger than any ties with pagan society.”44 She sees similar tendentiousness as “sustained criticism of the Mosaic covenant and Israelite cult”45 in the author’s free hand in linking the non-cultic covenant ritual with the cultic consecration of the tabernacle in Num 7:1,46 avoiding the longer accounts in Exod 40:9, 11 and Lev 8:10–11 because they speak not of blood but oil,47 and in inserting elements of Atonement Day ritual so that together the scene depicts “the purifying and atoning function of sacrificial blood, as a precursor of Christ’s sacrifice.”48 Similarly, she sees the author deliberately bypassing the promise of eternal Aaronic priesthood in Exod 40:12–15. 49 Others point to developments in Jewish tradition beyond the provisions as outlined in the Hebrew Scriptures as accounting for some changes. Reviewing these, Gäbel concludes: “Kurz, zu allen Einzelheiten des Kultvollzugs durch den Hohenpriester im Tempel am Jom Kippur gibt es in den antiken jüdischen Quellen Abweichungen bzw. (teils mehrere) alternative Fassungen.”50 42

Haber, “Priestly Torah,” 155. Haber, “Priestly Torah,” 156. 44 Haber, “Priestly Torah,” 158. 45 Haber, “Priestly Torah,” 144. 46 Haber, “Priestly Torah,” 146. 47 Haber, “Priestly Torah,” 148. 48 Haber, “Priestly Torah,” 147. 49 Haber, “Priestly Torah,” 150. 50 Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 275. William Horbury, “The Aaronic priesthood in the Epistle to the Hebrews,” JSNT 19 (1983): 43–71, suggests that “the antecedents of the priestly thought characteristic of Hebrews should be sought neither in Christianity, nor in sectarian or visionary Judaism, but in the pervasive influence upon Jewry of the Pentateuchal theocracy” (p. 68). See also Wolfgang Kraus, “Zur Aufnahme von Ex 24f im Hebräerbrief,” in Heiliger Raum. Exegese und Rezeption der Heiligtumstexte in Ex 24–40, ed. Matthias Hopf, Wolfgang Oswald, and Stefan Seiler, ThAkz 8 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2016), 91–112, who notes different understandings made possible through the LXX (p. 106) and points to similarities to Hebrews’ depiction of the covenant scene in contemporary Jewish literature (pp. 104–105). On the different location of the altar of incense, including its placement in the Holy of Holies in 2 Bar 6:8, see also Jared Compton, Psalm 110 and the Logic of Hebrews, LNTS 537 (London: Bloomsbury, 2015), 110. On the linking of covenant and cult inauguration see also R. B. Jamieson, “Hebrews 9.23. Cult inauguration, Yom Kippur and the cleansing of the heavenly tabernacle,” NTS 62 (2016): 569–87, who argues that Hebrews 43

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Similarly the attribution of atoning qualities to the daily sacrifices, assumed in Heb 7:27, is attested in contemporary Jewish tradition.51 Gelardini notes that Hebrew’s addition of the ritual of the ashes of the red heifer to its discussion of the Atonement Day ritual finds a parallel in m. Par 3.1.52 Gäbel similarly points to its use in this way and underlines its significance for the author and sees it alluded to in the use of ૧ĮȞIJ઀ȗȠȣıĮ as referring to it in 9:13 and also in 12:24, but especially in 10:22, where the motif of sprinkling reflects Ezek 36:25 LXX which also alludes to Numbers 19. 53 He notes that the purification in relation to having touched a corpse was the focus of discussion in both Philo and rabbinic tradition and was about restoring people to be able to participate in the cult and enter the temple and had been extended already in the prophets and later in Qumran beyond corpse impurity. 54 Thus Hebrews employs the language of purification in developing its Atonement Day typology and in depicting the achievement of Christ’s saving act (9:13, 22; 10:12) and to Christ (1:3; 9:14, 23; 10:22) and does so from the beginning (1:3). 55 The author does

“figures covenant inauguration as cult inauguration” (p. 576) and also notes the association of inauguration/rededication of the temple with purification in 1 Macc 4:36–59 and Josephus, A.J. 3.197; 12.316–326 (pp. 586–87). 51 Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 387. See also David Arthur deSilva, “The invention and argumentative function of priestly discourse in the Epistle to the Hebrews,” BBR 16 (2006), 295–323, who writes: “The author develops the topic of the priests' sacrifices for their own sins prior to their mediation once more in Heb 7:27, generalizing there from the Day of Atonement rite, where it is explicit, to the ‘daily’ rites of the tamia (Exod 29:38–45), drawing perhaps on the tradition that the grain offering that accompanied the burnt offerings was a sin offering for the priests” (p. 299). So Philo, Her. 174. See also Lane, Hebrews, 1.194. Cf. Christian Eberhart, Kultmetaphorik und Christologie. Opfer und Sühneterminologie im Neuen Testament, WUNT 306 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 137; Haber, “Priestly Torah,” who writes: “The daily sacrifices that were part of the public cult did not pertain to communal atonement […]. When Hebrews claims that the daily sacrifices are offered day after day but never take away sins (10:11), it fails to distinguish between the various forms of sacrifice and misrepresents the Levitical cult as a system exclusively concerned with communal atonement” (p. 154). 52 Gelardini, “Yom Kippur,” 241 53 Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 322–24. 54 Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 374–75. 55 Marshall, “Soteriology,” 28. He writes: “The first reference to the saving work of Christ is to cleansing. The front-loading and the choice of this phrase suggest powerfully that this is the author’s fundamental way of expressing the matter” (p. 255). Craig R. Koester, “God’s Purposes and Christ’s Saving Work According to Hebrews,” in Salvation in the New Testament. Perspectives on Soteriology, ed. Jan G. van der Watt (NovTSup 121 (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 361–87, comments: “Where the previous portrayal of Christ as a liberator assumed that people were enslaved by tyrannical powers, the priestly portrayal presupposes that human beings are sinners, whose sin must be dealt with before they can relate to God” (p. 370). “Christ’s priestly work is described, in part using categories of cleanness and

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therefore appear to assume the validity of cultic assumptions, thus the need for purification before one can access holy space,56 and is neither reflecting “comparative indifference to secondary detail,”57 nor rejecting the cultic,58 but using it because, as John Dunnill puts it, “it provides a coherent and nuanced vocabulary for setting out the work’s cosmology, encompassing creation, evil and the nature of humanity within the framework of a doctrine of salvation.” 59 The more pressing question is: how extensive and influential is the underlying cultic ideology? Richard Johnson comments that “in Hebrews the Levitical ritual is not denigrated but it is viewed as terminated.”60 In his more nuanced discussion, Stephen Finlan, who sees Hebrews as strongly supersessionist, alluding to 7:18, writes: “The cultic principle governs the author’s interpretation of what Christ did,” citing 10:19–20. 61 “Despite the rejectionist material in chapter 10, Hebrews’s soteriology is wholly based in the sacrificial pattern […]. The image of sacrifice is not spiritualized and dissipated, it is spiritualized and resolidified.”62 “The compassionate and cultic functions of the incarnation are welded into one: Christ becomes like mortals ‘so that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest’ able ‘to make a sacrifice of atonement for the sins of the people’ (2:17).”63 He sees Hebrews as influenced by critique of cultic ideas but remaining wedded to those uncleanness” (p. 371). Similarly, Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 225, 320, 417; Jamieson, “Hebrews 9.23,” 576. 56 Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 479, similarly affirms cultic thinking in Hebrews which is not to be demythologised (p. 106). He notes that the author of Hebrews sees the Old Testament cult as primarily focused on sacrificial atonement (“Sühneopfer”) (p. 102). 57 Ellingworth, Hebrews, 468. 58 So rightly Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 477. According to Erich Grässer, An die Hebräer, 3 vols., EKK 17 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1993, 1993, 1997), “Diese kultische Neuauslegung des Christusbekenntnisses ist die ureigenste theologische Leistung des Hebräerbriefautors” (1. p. 27). See also Claus-Peter März, “‘Wir haben einen Hohenpriester...’. Anmerkungen zur kulttheologischen Argumentation des Hebräerbriefes,” in Claus-Peter März, Studien zum Hebräerbrief, SBAB 39 (Stuttgart: KBW, 2005), 47–64, 62. 59 John Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice in the Letter to the Hebrews, SNTSMS 75 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 237. He writes: “As in early Judaism, the main impulse appears to be towards systematising, synthesising the sacral types so that each composite symbol or rite expresses the whole of the sacral system; and Hebrews continues also the tendency to move away from the expiatory centre which characterises Leviticus and towards an inclusive covenant-symbolism” (p. 239). 60 Richard W. Johnson, Going Outside the Camp. The Sociological Function of the Levitical Critique in the Epistle of Hebrews, JSNTSup 209 (London: Bloomsbury, 2001), 150. 61 Stephen Finlan, “Spiritualization of Sacrifice in Paul and Hebrews,” in Ritual and Metaphor: Sacrifice in the Bible, ed. Christian Eberhart, SBLRBS 68 (Atlanta: SBL, 2011), 83–97, 92. 62 Finlan, “Spiritualization,” 93. 63 Finlan, “Spiritualization,” 94.

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assumptions, such as the requirement of sacrifice as in 8:3. 64 Accordingly, the author “is in transition from a cultic way of thinking to an ethical and personalist view, but the transition is not particularly successful.” 65

Atonement Day Typology and Christian Traditions Employing Atonement Day typology in order to expound the significance of Jesus was therefore far from a simple matter of matching up details. One obvious difficulty lay in finding an equivalent in Jesus of his being both a sacrificing high priest and a sacrifice. The matter was further complicated by the existence not simply of diverse Jewish traditions but also of a developing Christian tradition which had already begun to employ cultic motifs to describe Jesus’ significance, and especially that of his death, including the language of sacrifice and of blood. It simply will not do to read Hebrews in the light of the Old Testament and Jewish tradition and ignore what had already taken place within the traditions of believers in Jesus, not least in their diverse and creative attempts to explain the significance of his death and resurrection, the author’s use of exaltation christological tradition being a clear example of such influence. This means we must proceed with caution in interpreting the author’s employment of Atonement Day typology. It cannot, for instance, be automatically assumed that because the weight of significance in the antitype lies with the sprinkling of the blood not the slaughter of the animal whence it came, the same must apply to how the author saw Jesus’ death. It may be so, but cannot be assumed simplistically. The author has complicated the matter by too much else, partly by employing other antitypes and also by using existing tradition about Jesus’ death. The most effective means of resolving such complex issues is to make what the author says our starting point rather than what he might have read or known from Old Testament or Jewish tradition or even from what for shorthand we call Christian tradition. Most scholars are sensitive to these issues. Thus Sebastian Fuhrmann writes: “Eröffnet der Rekurs auf den Versöhnungstag und die damit verbundenen Riten den Weg zum Verständnis des zentralen Anliegens der Darstellung, oder stellt diese nur eine Hilfskonstruktion für eine andere Vorstellung – nämlich

64

Finlan, “Spiritualization,” 95. Finlan, “Spiritualization,” 96. See also Eberhart, Kultmetaphorik, who notes the tension that the author uses cultic ideas but actually delegitimises them (p. 139); and Philip, Leviticus in Hebrews, who writes: “The author’s ingenuity in reinterpreting the levitical sacrificial system without discounting it in disparaging terms is the hallmark of his hermeneutical and exegetical expertise” (p. 58). 65

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die der Einsetzung des neuen Bundes durch Christus – dar?”66 As Felix Cortez sees it, “The question is, then, how do we explain, on the one hand, the pervasive nature of the imagery of the Day of Atonement in this central section of Hebrews but, on the other hand, account for the inconsistencies in the Day of Atonement typology for Jesus’ death on the cross?”67 Christian Eberhart is more blunt in his assessment: “Im Hebräerbrief ist verschiedentlich manifest, dass der Opferkult und die Betonung des Todes geradezu inkompatibel sind.”68 In response R. B. Jamieson argues: Hebrews does not begin with the purportedly non-cultic ‘facts’ of Christ’s death, resurrection and exaltation and then interpret these through metaphorical use of Levitical rites, as some scholars imply. […] Instead, Hebrews’ logic is precisely the reverse: Jesus is the true priest and true sacrifice, and the Levitical sacrifices were patterned in advance on Christ’s eschatological achievement.69

Reconstructions of Hebrews’ use of Atonement Day typology cannot escape an inherent fragility. The matching up does not work well at too many points. Even those who insist that the matching must mean the author transfers atonement to an act in the heavenly realm, have to adapt their outlines to account for the fact that the author seems deliberately to avoid depicting the central act of that ritual, namely sprinkling the blood on the mercy seat. The argument that this must be so because the antitype relegates the death of the animal to a preparatory role is far from cogent, as even the advocates of the heavenly only atonement mostly acknowledge. 70 Merging Atonement Day imagery with the ashes of the red heifer and with covenant consecration, whether as innovation or more likely application of tradition, and then reframing it all as purification complicates matters further. Missing from many reconstructions is a consideration of traditions from within the sphere of influence of emerging Christianity. The author has clearly drawn upon such tradition in a major way in depicting Christ’s exaltation to God’s right hand and knows the use of the psalms to express it, including Ps 66

Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen, 175. See also Kibbe, “Is it Finished?” 45. Cortez, “Most Holy Place,” 529. He suggests the author’s focus is indicated rhetorically in 9:6–10, concluding “that Hebrews’ author primarily intended the Day of Atonement not as a typology of Jesus’s death but as a ‘parable’ or illustration of the transition from the ‘current age’ and its old covenant into the ‘age to come’ and its new covenant” (p. 529) and that the author argues a change “from multiple priests to one high priest, from multiple sacrifices to one sacrifice, from unrestricted access to the requirement of blood, and from the cleansing of the flesh to the cleansing of the conscience” (p. 547). 68 Eberhart, Kultmetaphorik, 148. 69 Jamieson, “Hebrews 9:23,” 582–83. 70 Eberhart, Kultmetaphorik, rightly observes: “Allein vom Opferkult des Alten Testaments oder des Frühjudentums lässt sich die Wichtigkeit oder konstitutive Bedeutung gerade eines Todesgeschehens aber bezeichnenderweise nicht ableiten, denn die Schächtung von Opfertieren ist dort keine rituelle Handlung mit besonderem Gewicht” (p. 148). 67

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2:7; 110:1; 8:7 and probably also Ps 45:6–7 and 89:27. It is highly likely that he was also aware of traditions interpreting Jesus’ death. He was not the first to use cultic metaphor to describe Christ’s death and its benefits.71 We cannot simply cite cultic understandings of blood as representing life, as it does in Old Testament and Jewish tradition,72 and ignore what the author must have been familiar with from his Christian tradition of referring to Jesus’ death and its benefits by referring to his blood.73 The argument is circumstantial because the author does not cite specific sources, but the fact that he has obvious awareness of exaltation traditions make it very likely that he knew of such a usage. He may have known its use in the eucharistic tradition (cf. Matt 26:28; Mark 14:24; Luke 22:20; 1 Cor 10:16; 11:25), 74 unless we make the unlikely claim that he would have been in a tradition of the Jesus movement that did not know about it or practice it. “Blood” sometimes clearly refers to someone’s death as in Pilate’s protest, “I am innocent of this man’s blood” (Matt 27:24; similarly, Acts 5:28) and Matthew’s fateful depiction of the crowd’s response: “His blood be on us and on our children!” (Matt 27:25). “Blood” is used directly in relation to the atoning and expiating effect of Jesus’ death: “whom God put forward as a sacrifice of atonement by his blood” (Rom 3:25); “justified by his blood” (Rom 5:9); and in deutero-pauline tradition (Col 1:20; Eph 1:7; 2:13); petrine 71 So Söding, “Hoherpriester,” referring to the notion of Christ’s death as a sacrifice as an early Jewish Christian tradition reflected in Gal 1:4; 2:20 and Eph 5:2 (p. 99). 72 So, for instance, Gäbel, Kulttheologie: “Das Blut gilt kultischer Theologie als Träger und Repräsentant der physisch-somatischen Lebendigkeit (vgl. Lev 17,11)” (p. 290). “Ähnlich wie in Hebr 9,12, ist das Blut Christi in 13,20 als Träger und Repräsentant seines irdischen Lebens im Blick” (p. 319). Moffitt, Atonement, writes: “Jesus’ blood represents Jesus’ life/living presence appearing in the presence of God” (p. 273), and argues that Jesus’ blood does not represent his death (p. 219), but his risen life p. (229). 73 Barnabas Lindars, The Theology of the Letter to the Hebrews, New Testament Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), writes: “So there is no real suggestion of a heavenly blood-ritual, and when Hebrews says in verse 14, ‘how much more shall the blood of Christ, who through (dia) the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God, purify your conscience …’, he simply means Christ’s death” (p. 94). Similarly Philip, Leviticus in Hebrews: “The sacrifice and blood of Jesus in Hebrews, as in the rest of the NT, are synonymous with Jesus’ atoning and substitutionary sacrifice on the cross ‘once and for all’ (9:12), as a result of which he entered the heavenly tabernacle” (p. 56). Eberhart, Kultmetaphorik, points to the author’s move from referring to Jesus’ death as that of the testator of a will (9:16–17) to referring to it in cultic terms in 9:18 (pp. 149–50) to argue that the author transforms and transcends meaning of sacrificial blood in cult (p. 150), thus combining cultic and non-cultic notions of blood (pp. 152–55). With reference to įȚ੹ […] IJȠ૨ ੁį઀Ƞȣ Į੆ȝĮIJȠȢ in 9:12 he writes: “Diese Aussage verlässt in diesem Kontext das ausschließlich kultische Bildfeld und bezieht sich auf Jesu Tod” (p. 141). Similarly, Christopher A. Richardson, Pioneer and Perfecter of Faith. Jesus’ Faith as the Climax of Israel’s History in the Epistle to the Hebrews, WUNT 2.338 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 38, 44. 74 So Eberhart, Kultmetaphorik, 146–48.

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tradition, even using the image of sprinkling, “sprinkled with his blood” (1 Pet 1:2; cf. also 1:19),75 Johannine tradition: “the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin” (1 John 1:7); Luke: “the church of God that he obtained with the blood of his own Son” (Acts 20:28) and Revelation: “freed us from our sins by his blood” (Rev 1:5; see also 5:9; 7:14). We may assume some familiarity on the author’s part more broadly with cultic language used in relation to Christ’s death. Christ’s death is likely to have been central to the author’s faith. It is therefore worth revisiting the alternative proposals for understanding Hebrews’ atonement typology to those outlined above which espouse the heavenly-only model of Jesus’ high priesthood and its achievement. What if instead of seeing the Atonement Day ritual as governing the author’s understanding of Jesus’ role as high priest, however adapted, we see his understanding of Jesus’ salvific significance on the cross as his starting point which then governs his particularly selective and creative use of Atonement Day typology? One may want to argue this on confessional, dogmatic grounds in order to keep Christ’s atoning death as central to one’s faith,76 but that is an interference in the historical reconstruction. There are, however, a number of indicators in the work that the author’s preunderstanding of Christ’s salvific work is, indeed, what determines his use of imagery and not vice versa. Eberhart speaks of a “Gewichtsverlagerung”: Mit der Gewichtsverlagerung auf den Tod Jesu als Selbstopfer kommt es zu einer entscheidenden Neubestimmung der Opfermetapher […]. Für die Opfermetaphorik im Hebräerbrief bedeutet diese Gewichtsverlagerung auf Jesu Tod (Hebr 7,27; 9,25f.28; 10,10.12.14) nicht nur Transzendierung, sondern auch Transformation des traditionellen Bedeutungsspektrums.77

75 Rissi, Theologie, observes: “Das Blut der makellosen Opfergabe hat keine selbstständige, vom Sterben Jesu zu abstrahierende Bedeutung, sondern weist auf die fortwährende Sühnekraft seines Opfertodes,” pointing to the parallel to the sprinkled blood in 1 Pet 1:2 (p. 81). 76 Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice, notes that Protestants tended to read Hebrews as Pauline and “‘blood’ only equivalent to ‘saving death’” and Catholics as the basis for ministerial priesthood and Eucharistic sacrifice, neither of which he argues is present in Hebrews (p. 120). 77 Eberhart, Kultmetaphorik, 141. Similarly, Donald A. Hagner, “The Son of God as Unique High Priest: The Christology of the Epistle to the Hebrews,” in Contours of Christology in the New Testament, ed. Richard N. Longenecker, MMNTS 7 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), 247–67: “When the author compares the earthly tabernacle with the true heavenly sanctuary and notes that Christ offered his blood there (9:11–12, 24), it is very unlikely that he has in mind an actual structure where atonement is accomplished by the offering of the blood of Christ after Christ’s ascension into heaven” (p. 260). On the importance in Hebrews of Christ’s death as the saving event see also Marie E. Isaacs, Sacred Space. An Approach to the Theology of the Epistle to the Hebrews, JSNTSup 73 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1992), 181; John M. Scholer, Proleptic Priests. Priesthood in the Epistle to the Hebrews, JSNTSup 49 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991), 166–67;

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Similarly, Mayjee Philip writes: “It is noteworthy that the author exercises extreme care in maintaining the sacrificial metaphors related to the Levitical system as the primary signifiers that point to the new signified, which is the sacrifice of Jesus in the cross.”78 Noting what she sees as the author’s deliberate choice not to cite from Leviticus, in contrast to his use of the Psalms, but instead to use allusion and commentary, she argues that these “allow the author the latitude to transfer the sacrificial metaphors of Leviticus onto Jesus’ sacrifice, this transposition is central to the meaning of Hebrews.” 79 Awareness of modification of the antitype is to some extent reflected already in those reconstructions which depict Christ’s achievement as occurring in the heavenly realm, accounting for the adaptations which, for instance, avoid speaking of Jesus taking with him his blood and sprinkling it. The issue is, therefore, not just a matter of how consistent an author was in using metaphors, but what he is likely to have believed about Jesus, his life and death. We are not dealing with artistic freedom of expression, writing for entertainment or pleasure. We are dealing with serious faith in potential danger. Thus for him what integrates his use of images, if anything does, is not their literary or logical compatibility on the canvass of his imagination, but that they refer to the focus of his faith, the person he affirms is God’s Son and high priest. It is, thus, quite difficult to imagine that in one breath he sees Jesus’ death as all important and in another he reduces it to a preliminary undertaking for a heavenly act. This does not, of itself, mean we should rule out elaborations on the author’s part which embrace both the earthly and heavenly realm. It is, however, to view with caution any suggestion that the author diminishes the significance of Jesus’ death or sees it primarily as preparatory, even when that is understood as consisting of a life and death of full obedience which enabled him to enter and make an offering of it in the heavenly realm to achieve salvation. We are surely right to assume that the author’s faith would have included core beliefs about the significance of Jesus’ death and not only core beliefs about the significance of his exaltation. The first direct reference to Jesus’ death and its significance occurs in 2:14– 15. ਫʌİ੿ Ƞ੣Ȟ IJ੹ ʌĮȚį઀Į țİțȠȚȞઆȞȘțİȞ Į੆ȝĮIJȠȢ țĮ੿ ıĮȡțંȢ, țĮ੿ Į੝IJઁȢ ʌĮȡĮʌȜȘı઀ȦȢ ȝİIJ੼ıȤİȞ IJ૵Ȟ Į੝IJ૵Ȟ, ੆ȞĮ įȚ੹ IJȠ૨ șĮȞ੺IJȠȣ țĮIJĮȡȖ੾ıૉ IJઁȞ IJઁ țȡ੺IJȠȢ ਩ȤȠȞIJĮ IJȠ૨ șĮȞ੺IJȠȣ, IJȠ૨IJૅ ਩ıIJȚȞ IJઁȞ įȚ੺ȕȠȜȠȞ, țĮ੿ ਕʌĮȜȜ੺ȟૉ IJȠ઄IJȠȣȢ, ੖ıȠȚ ijંȕ૳ șĮȞ੺IJȠȣ įȚ੹ ʌĮȞIJઁȢ IJȠ૨ ȗોȞ ਩ȞȠȤȠȚ ਷ıĮȞ įȠȣȜİ઀ĮȢ.

Lindars, Theology, 94; Rissi, Theologie, 81; Brian C. Small, The Characterization of Jesus in the Book of Hebrews, BibInt 128 (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 228; Richardson, Pioneer and Perfecter, 44; Braun, Hebräer, 70–71. 78 Philip, Leviticus in Hebrews, 77. 79 Philip, Leviticus in Hebrews, 78.

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Since therefore the children partook of blood and flesh, he, too, likewise partook of them, so that through death he might disempower the one who has the power of death, i.e. the devil, and liberate those who through fear of death have all life long been subject to bondage. (2:14–15)

Through his death he destroyed or disempowered the one who has the power of death, thereby liberating people from the lifelong fear of death. Some hearers of this statement would doubtless have heard echoes of a theme in literature of the time about heroes defying or defeating death.80 As Knut Backhaus puts it, “Die Selbst-Befreiung von Trauer und Todesangst ist gängiger Topos der zeitgenössischen Konsolationsliteratur,” 81 pointing to the widely known legend of Heracles. Others might, or might in addition, hear echoes of the Passover story and its reference to the angel of death, in tradition depicted dualistically as the arch enemy of humankind and in the author’s own account in 11:28 as “the destroyer.”82 Christ’s achievement in disempowering the devil’s power over death relieves believers of fear, because it removes the obstacle to their passing through death to the goal of heavenly rest. Far from being an isolated tradition, 2:14–15 is closely related to its wider context. As many have noted, the author perceives life as a journey whose goal is the heavenly realm. In chapters 3 and 4 the author exploits the exodus story typologically to depict that journey as one into the promised land. 2:14–15 is fundamental to its rationale in explaining how this has now been made possible.83 It also builds 80 On this see Knut Backhaus, “Zwei harte Knoten: Todes- und Gerichtsangst im Hebräerbrief,” in Knut Backhaus, Der sprechende Gott. Gesammelte Studien zum Hebräerbrief, WUNT 240 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), 131–51, who notes that some might see 2:14–15 like a meteorite from another world (p. 132), but that read in the light of the literature of the time and the author’s later exposition, it has an integral role in the author’s plan (p. 136): “er ordnet sie planvoll in das Christus-Drama ein” (p. 144). On Hellenistic parallels see also Koester, “God’s Purposes,” 367; Craig R. Koester, Hebrews. A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AB 36 (New York: Doubleday, 2001), 239; Harold W. Attridge, “Liberating Death’s Captives. Reconstruction of an Early Christian Myth,” in Harold W. Attridge, Essays on John and Hebrews, WUNT 264 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 247–59, 256. 81 Backhaus, “Knoten,” 134. 82 See Loader, Sohn und Hoherpriester, 114–15, 197. In discussing 2:14–15, Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen, 51–60, suggests that the fear is fear of judgement (p. 58). Accordingly, he reads 2:16 as referring to the attack by the devil on the seed of Abraham (pp. 61, 64), a view developed by Karl-Gustav E. Dolfe, “Hebrews 2,16 under the Magnifying Glass,” ZNW 84 (1993): 289–94, and Michael E. Gudorf, “Through a Classical Lens: Hebrews 2:16,” JBL 119 (2000): 105–108. He might have cited Rom 8:33–34 in support of his argument. See also his discussion in Sebastian Fuhrmann, “The Son, the Angels and the Odd: Psalm 8 in Hebrews 1 and 2,” in Psalms and Hebrews. Studies in Reception, ed. Dirk J. Human and Gert J. Steyn, LHBOTS 527 (London: T&T Clark, 2010), 83–98, 92–94. 83 Koester, Hebrews, 239–40; Kibbe, “Is it Finished?” notes that 2:14–18 and 9:11–22 suggest that Jesus’ death was performative rather than merely preparatory (p. 45).

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on an understanding for which the author has prepared the hearer in the preceding verses. The solidarity alluded to in the words ਫʌİ੿ Ƞ੣Ȟ IJ੹ ʌĮȚį઀Į țİțȠȚȞઆȞȘțİȞ Į੆ȝĮIJȠȢ țĮ੿ ıĮȡțંȢ has already been underlined in 2:11–13, and its relevance for Christ’s disempowering the devil foreshadowed in 2:10, where Christ is described as the ਕȡȤȘȖંȢ of their salvation, and in 2:9, where he is depicted as having tasted death for all.84 Adam mythology may well have informed the opening two chapters of the letter85 and would help explain the author’s comments which put angels in their place, both beneath the Son, but also as having lesser priority in God’s intent. 86 For it was not to angels that God planned to subject the world to come and it was not angels whom the Son came to help.87 It was his brothers and sisters. It enabled the author to take up the christological tradition which linked Ps 110:1 and Ps 8:7, which already has associations with Adam typology in 1 Cor 15:20– 28, and to exploit the ambiguity of Ps 8:7 to affirm Jesus as the representative

84

Gäbel, Kulttheologie, relates 2:9 directly to 2:14–15, arguing that his obedience as the new Adam disempowers the devil (pp. 144–63). 85 On this see Gäbel, Kulttheologie, who points to Adam mythology in LAE 10–16:47; ApocSedr 4–5; Wis 2:23–24 (p. 138) and its import in depicting rivalry between Adam and humankind and the angels who refused to worship Adam but will finally have to submit to do so (pp. 134–44); Moffitt, Atonement, 134–37, taking up the proposal of Joel Marcus, “Son of man as Son of Adam, Part 1,” RB 110 (2003): 38–61. Moffitt argues that “the real point of contrast in Heb 1 is not between the Son and the angels per se, but between the Son’s elevation to the heavenly throne and the angels’ spiritual nature” (p. 124). “Thus the argument begun in Heb 1 culminates in Heb 2. As it unfolds, the author makes the claim that the crucial factor that qualifies the Son for his throne in the ȠੁțȠȣȝ੼ȞȘ, and therefore enables his exaltation above the angels, is the fact that he is not a ministering spirit made of fire and wind, but a human being. To be more precise, the way the author employs and explicates Ps 8 indicates that it is the Son’s humanity – his flesh and blood – that gives him the right to sit at God’s right hand and reign over the other heavenly beings” (p. 141). “The thoroughgoing emphasis on the Son’s humanity serves as the explanation for how the Son became eligible to be exalted to the divine throne and receive the worship of the angels” (p. 142). While the contrast angels-Adam may well lie in the background, the primary ground for Jesus’ exaltation, however, is not his humanity but both his obedience (1:8–9) and his superiority as the divine Son, through whom and for whom all things were made (1:2–4, 10–12). See also the critical comments in Barnard, Mysticism, who observes that LAE is referring to Adam on earth and a one-off veneration of his image (p. 250) and that the exaltation of the Son of Man in the Parables of Enoch relates primarily to his role as eschatological judge (pp. 250–51). 86 Cf. Joshua W. Jipp, “The Son’s Entrance into the Heavenly World: The Soteriological Necessity of the Scriptural Catena in Hebrews 1.5–14,” NTS 56 (2010): 557–75, who explains the contrast with angels on the basis that they were seen as mediators of Law (p. 564), part of the created order (p. 565), linked with the Sinai covenant (p. 566), and in 12:22 as worshippers (p. 567). 87 For the view that the word ਥʌȚȜĮȝȕ੺ȞİIJĮȚ in 2:16 means attack rather than help and so refers to the devil, see the discussion above of 2:14–15.

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human,88 who pioneered the path for all to be able to follow, in effect to be restored to the glory Adam forfeited.89 The author might have exploited the notion further to speak of a return to paradise and of Adam as a priest,90 but does not do so. Instead his formulations of hope about the world to come exploit the image of the promised land of Sabbath rest, the heavenly city and the heavenly temple. Access is the theme and Christ’s death achieved access by breaking through death’s barrier by disempowering its master, expressed in cultic imagery in 10:20 as making the way through the curtain through his death. As Hahn puts it: Das ist in 10,20 bildhaft übertragen auf den in der fleischlichen Existenz erlittenen Tod Jesu, der hier als der Vorhang zum himmlischen Heiligtum verstanden wird. Für die Glaubenden, denen der Eingang in das Heiligtum eröffnet wurde, ist Jesu Tod der sich öffnende Vorhang zum himmlischen Opferaltar […]. Wie der Vorhang zum Allerheiligsten gehört, so Jesu irdisches Sterben zu seinem hohenpriesterlichen Dienst im Himmel. 91

The theme of access in cultic terms meets us, of course, already in the letter’s important opening statement about the Son’s achievement. He made 88

Of Psalm 8, Koester, “God’s Purposes,” writes: “The Psalm is valuable because it can be read on two levels: first as a statement about ‘man’ or ‘humankind’, and second as a statement about the man Jesus” (p. 364). They do not see all subject to them (p. 365). Similarly, Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice, 220; Kenneth L. Schenck, Cosmology and Eschatology in Hebrews. The Setting of the Sacrifice, SNTSMS 143 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 54–59, 75. Moffitt, Atonement, takes the first line as generic (ਙȞșȡȦʌȠȢ) and second line as christological (ȣੂઁȢ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȣ) (pp. 120–22), and the reference to all things not being subjected in 2:8 as a reference to the situation of human beings (p. 127), as does Koester, Hebrews, 365, but the christological tradition upon which the author draws knows this as also a stage in christology according to which Ps 110:1, the placing of all things beneath his feet, will not take place till the eschaton (1 Cor 15:21–28). See Loader, “Christ at the Right Hand,” 208; Hagner, “Son of God,” 253. 89 Moffitt, Atonement, 137. 90 Cf. Philip Church, “4Q174 and the Epistle of the Hebrews,” in Keter Shem Tov: Essays on the Dead Sea Scrolls in Memory of Alan Crown, ed. Shani Tzoref and Ian Young, PHSC 20 (Piscataway: Gorgias, 2013), 333–60, who suggests with Brooke that the temple of Adam in 4Q174 envisages “a community summoned to live out Adam’s cultic calling in the last days” (p. 343), and is reflected in Hebrews’ reference to sacrifice of praise in 13:15–16 (cf. “works of thanksgiving” 4Q174) (p. 346). See also George J. Brooke, “The Ten Temples in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Temple and Worship in Biblical Israel, ed. John Day, LHBOTS 422 (London: Bloomsbury, 2005), 417–34, 427. 91 Ferdinand Hahn, Theologie des Neuen Testaments. 2 Bände (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 134. Cf. Eberhart, Kultmetaphori, who follows Otfried Hofius, “Inkarnation und Opfertod Jesu nach Hebr 10,19f,” in Otfried Hofius, Neutestamentliche Studien, WUNT 132 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000), 210–19, in arguing that IJȠ૨IJૅ ਩ıIJȚȞ IJોȢ ıĮȡțઁȢ Į੝IJȠ૨ in 10:20 refers to Jesus’ life/incarnation (p. 152). Similarly, Moffitt, Atonement, who also agrees with Hofius but prefers to take it as also referring to “his glorified incarnational existence” (p. 283).

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purification for sins. The language of purification belongs to the language of access to holy space. The common theme behind both 1:3, purification, and 2:14–15, disempowering the controller of death, is access. The difference is that one is about disempowering, while the other is about purification from sin. Are both referring to the achievement of the same event, namely Jesus’ death? This should not automatically be assumed, but is likely. In Paul’s writings this is probably the case. He uses various images to depict Christ’s death as for us and for sins and also sees Christ’s death as dealing with the demonic powers of this age (1 Cor 2:8). More clearly the fourth gospel depicts Jesus’ death as judgement and victory over the prince of this world. 92 It, too, knows traditions about Jesus’ death as on behalf of his own and as dealing with sins, perhaps also in association with Passover imagery which would include something like disempowering the angel of death, but could also depict the gift of forgiveness and eternal life as already present in the life of Jesus and also as a future gift. 93 It is possible that the author of Hebrews saw at least two elements to Christ’s saving achievement: disempowerment of the devil and so removal of death as a barrier and purification, and may not have seen them as occurring in the one event, but, unlikely as that seems to be, that is to be tested. In 9:15 the author’s affirmation that Jesus is mediator of a new order94 is grounded in the statement that a death had occurred for the redemption of transgressions committed under the old order. ȀĮ੿ įȚ੹ IJȠ૨IJȠ įȚĮș੾țȘȢ țĮȚȞોȢ ȝİı઀IJȘȢ ਥıIJ઀Ȟ, ੖ʌȦȢ șĮȞ੺IJȠȣ ȖİȞȠȝ੼ȞȠȣ İੁȢ ਕʌȠȜ઄IJȡȦıȚȞ IJ૵Ȟ ਥʌ੿ IJૌ ʌȡઆIJૉ įȚĮș੾țૉ ʌĮȡĮȕ੺ıİȦȞ IJ੽Ȟ ਥʌĮȖȖİȜ઀ĮȞ Ȝ੺ȕȦıȚȞ Ƞੂ țİțȜȘȝ੼ȞȠȚ IJોȢ ĮੁȦȞ઀Ƞȣ țȜȘȡȠȞȠȝ઀ĮȢ. And for this reason he is mediator of a new order, so that, a death having occurred for the release of trespasses under the first order, those who have been called to an eternal inheritance might receive the promise. (9:15)

The author’s focus is on the new order which he is about to expound as being like a will, where the testator’s death now means that the beneficiaries now have access to what the will stipulated would be theirs. The reference to the purpose of the death is almost incidental, but then all the more important because it provides a summary and, coming after 9:11–14, is indeed functioning as a summary of its import. The focus on Jesus’ death is in part 92 See the discussion in William R. G. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel. Structure and Issues (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017), 207–11. 93 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 147–202, 282–303. 94 On įȚĮș੾țȘ see Wolfgang Kraus, “Die Bedeutung von įȚĮș੾țȘ im Hebräerbrief,” in The Reception of Septuagint Words in Jewish-Hellenistic and Christian Literature, ed. Eberhard Bons, Ralph Brucker, and Jan Joosten, WUNT 2.367 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 67–83, who argues that consistently in Hebrews “Die Übersetzung mit ‘Verfügung, Setzung, Testament, Stiftung’ ist zu bevorzugen” (p. 81).

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determined by the author’s exploitation of the inheritance theme, but it also, arguably, reflects the centrality of Jesus’ death in the author’s soteriology. 95 The use of ਕʌȠȜ઄IJȡȦıȚȞ in 9:15 picks up ĮੁȦȞ઀ĮȞ Ȝ઄IJȡȦıȚȞ İਫ਼ȡ੺ȝİȞȠȢ, which in turn summarises Christ’s achievement. As noted above, the aorist İਫ਼ȡ੺ȝİȞȠȢ may be read as referring to a past event,96 namely what Christ’s death achieved, on the basis of which (įȚ੹ […] IJȠ૨ ੁį઀Ƞȣ Į੆ȝĮIJȠȢ)97 he then entered the heavenly temple or to what he was achieving through his entry,98 in which case įȚ੹ […] IJȠ૨ ੁį઀Ƞȣ Į੆ȝĮIJȠȢ is to be constructed as relating to the implied act which followed,99 namely as depicted in 9:14. ʌંı૳ ȝ઼ȜȜȠȞ IJઁ ĮੈȝĮ IJȠ૨ ȋȡȚıIJȠ૨, ੔Ȣ įȚ੹ ʌȞİ઄ȝĮIJȠȢ ĮੁȦȞ઀Ƞȣ ਦĮȣIJઁȞ ʌȡȠı੾ȞİȖțİȞ ਙȝȦȝȠȞ IJ૶ șİ૶, țĮșĮȡȚİ૙ IJ੽Ȟ ıȣȞİ઀įȘıȚȞ ਲȝ૵Ȟ ਕʌઁ Ȟİțȡ૵Ȟ ਩ȡȖȦȞ İੁȢ IJઁ ȜĮIJȡİ઄İȚȞ șİ૶ ȗ૵ȞIJȚ. How much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself blameless to God purify our consciences from dead works to serve the living God. (9:14)

Was it the offering of the blood that effected salvation or did the blood represent what had been achieved in the death? However we may answer this question, the theme of access is unambiguous. If purification of the body by blood or ashes made access to the earthly temple possible, how much more at the heavenly level will purification of the conscience from dead works assure access to the heavenly temple to worship the living God. There follows in 9:16– 22 the author’s creative allusion to the inauguration of the old order (Exod 24:3–8), in which elements of Atonement Day ritual and the ritual of the ashes of the red heifer are merged with a version of the story which mentions not oil

95 Cf. Moffitt, Atonement, who sees 9:15 indicating that the death resulted in redemption but was in itself just the start of the process (p. 290). 96 So Gareth Lee Cockerill, The Epistle to the Hebrews, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 394–95; Scholer, Proleptic Priests, 167, who writes: “At 9.11–12 eschatological redemption appears to be the result of the death of Christ and his subsequent entry into the holy of holies” (p. 168). While noting that the aorist İਫ਼ȡ੺ȝİȞȠȢ need not refer to the past, but could have a present meaning, Kibbe, “Is it Finished?” nevertheless comments that there are no other examples in Hebrews of use of an aorist participle not referring to the past (pp. 32–33), but ਕȖĮȖંȞIJĮ in 2:10 would appear to be one, as Attridge, Hebrews, notes (p. 248). 97 Scholer, Proleptic Priests, 167–68; similarly, Eberhart, Kultmetaphorik, 141, who writes: “Hier deutet sich einerseits an, dass kultische Opfer im Hebräerbrief nicht mehr unter den aus der kultischen Tradition bekannten Aspekten rezipiert werden” (p. 141). 98 So Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 286–87; Moffitt, Atonement, 22–23; Cf. Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen, who takes Ȝ઄IJȡȦıȚȞ in 9:11–12 as referring to what Jesus’ prayer 5:7–8 achieved for himself, namely his own deliverance from death (pp. 191–92, 197–98). 99 So Gäbel, Kulttheologie, who reads įȚ੺ as both instrumental and accompaniment (p. 285). “Die Überführung der im Blut repräsentierten Hingabe des somatischen Lebens Christi in das himmlische Allerheiligste ist als solche sein himmlischer Opfervollzug” (p. 279).

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but blood and the event is turned into an act of purification.100 It may well also play on eucharistic tradition.101 The author then moves to the new, pertaining not to the earthly order but the heavenly. ਝȞ੺ȖțȘ Ƞ੣Ȟ IJ੹ ȝ੻Ȟ ਫ਼ʌȠįİ઀ȖȝĮIJĮ IJ૵Ȟ ਥȞ IJȠ૙Ȣ Ƞ੝ȡĮȞȠ૙Ȣ IJȠ઄IJȠȚȢ țĮșĮȡ઀ȗİıșĮȚ, Į੝IJ੹ į੻ IJ੹ ਥʌȠȣȡ੺ȞȚĮ țȡİ઀IJIJȠıȚȞ șȣı઀ĮȚȢ ʌĮȡ੹ IJĮ઄IJĮȢ. Thus while the copies of what is in the heavens needed to be purified by these, the heavenly things themselves needed to be purified with better sacrifices than these ones. (9:23)

The contrast is generic in the sense that the author speaks of greater sacrifices in the plural. There is no agreement about whether “the heavenly things” assumes decontamination of the heavenly temple102 or is a generic abstraction which in effect means people.103 The focus is clearly on Christ’s entry into the heavenly temple, but the basis for the change is not an act of sprinkling, but his sacrifice. ȞȣȞ੿ į੻ ਚʌĮȟ ਥʌ੿ ıȣȞIJİȜİ઀઺ IJ૵Ȟ ĮੁઆȞȦȞ İੁȢ ਕș੼IJȘıȚȞ [IJોȢ] ਖȝĮȡIJ઀ĮȢ įȚ੹ IJોȢ șȣı઀ĮȢ Į੝IJȠ૨ ʌİijĮȞ੼ȡȦIJĮȚ. But now at the end of the ages he has appeared once and for all to do away with sin through his sacrifice. (9:26)

That this refers to the sacrifice of his death not to an action in the heavenly world is clear from what follows where the author specifically identifies that once for all with his death: țĮ੿ țĮșૅ ੖ıȠȞ ਕʌંțİȚIJĮȚ IJȠ૙Ȣ ਕȞșȡઆʌȠȚȢ ਚʌĮȟ ਕʌȠșĮȞİ૙Ȟ, ȝİIJ੹ į੻ IJȠ૨IJȠ țȡ઀ıȚȢ, Ƞ੢IJȦȢ țĮ੿ ੒ ȋȡȚıIJઁȢ ਚʌĮȟ ʌȡȠıİȞİȤșİ੿Ȣ İੁȢ IJઁ ʌȠȜȜ૵Ȟ ਕȞİȞİȖțİ૙Ȟ ਖȝĮȡIJ઀ĮȢ ਥț įİȣIJ੼ȡȠȣ ȤȦȡ੿Ȣ ਖȝĮȡIJ઀ĮȢ ੑijș੾ıİIJĮȚ IJȠ૙Ȣ Į੝IJઁȞ ਕʌİțįİȤȠȝ੼ȞȠȚȢ İੁȢ ıȦIJȘȡ઀ĮȞ.

100 On this see Jamieson, “Hebrews 9.23,” 572–76; Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 294–310; Kraus, “Aufnahme von Ex 24f,” 91–112. 101 So Eberhart, Kultmetaphorik, 146–48; Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen, who notes that the use of Exodus 24 and Jeremiah 31 “könnte als Hinweis darauf gedeutet werden, die Einsetzungsworte, insbesondere das Kelchwort, als Subtext im Hebr vorauszusetzen” (p. 171; similarly, p. 226); Söding, “Hoherpriester,” 100; cf. Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice, who denies a eucharistic allusion and sees only symbolic use of the rites (p. 259). 102 Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 423–24; Braun, Hebräer, 281; Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice, 232; Koester, Hebrews, 321; Grässer, Hebräer, speaks of a “missglückte Analogie” (2. p. 190); and Jamieson, “Hebrews 9.23,” 577–78, who writes: “The defilement of the heavenly sanctuary was apparently not as unthinkable within an apocalyptic early Jewish milieu as it seems to be for many modern scholars” (p. 582), citing 1 Enoch. 103 Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen, 219; Attridge, Hebrews, referring to people’s consciences (p. 262); similarly, Knut Backhaus, Der Hebräerbrief, RNT (Regensburg: Pustet, 2009), 236. See also Ellingworth, Hebrews, 477; Loader, Sohn und Hoherpriester, 169–70.

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And as it is appointed for humans to die once and then face judgement, so Christ, too, having been offered up once and for all to bear the sins of many will appear a second time apart from sin to those who are waiting for salvation. (9:27–28)

What is equated here is people’s dying once with Christ’s being offered up once as a sacrifice for sins, referring to his death. 104 Christ’s sacrifice, specifically in 9:26 and generically in 9:23, refers to his death. The passive ʌȡȠıİȞİȤșİ઀Ȣ may well allude to tradition with which the author is familiar which depicted Christ’s death as a sacrifice.105 In the light of this it is difficult to see how the author could be reducing the significance of Christ’s death to something preliminary or preparatory rather than the act that achieves salvation. On the other hand, it makes good sense to see Christ’s entry and appearance before God as including the presentation of his blood, though never specifically described in these terms, as representing that achievement. This coheres with how other Christian writers use blood to signify the effects of Christ’s death and fits well the author’s manipulation of the antitypes to have them foreshadow this impact through the image of blood and its application in various rites which the author bundles together as bringing purification. In 10:1–4 we again have reference to earthly sacrifices and what they cannot achieve, the author generalising again to depict all sacrifices as designed to bring purification but at an earthly level. We then have his citation of Psalm 40,106 where again the focus is on slaughter of animals as sacrifices to achieve purification and access to the holy. The focus here is not some subsequent event, but the sacrifice itself. The author must then be contrasting those deaths with the death of Jesus, who is made to speak in the words of the psalmist, ı૵ȝĮ į੻ țĮIJȘȡIJ઀ıȦ ȝȠȚ. Doing God’s will entails replacing such sacrificial deaths with his own. 104

Richardson, Pioneer and Perfecter, 45; Scholer, Proleptic Priests, 167. Richardson, Pioneer and Perfecter, observes that as 2:14 prepares for 2:17, and 10:10 for 10:12, so 9:26 prepares for 9:28 (pp. 40–42), all referring to the achievement of forgiveness of sins through Christ’s death (p. 43). 106 On the LXX form of Psalm 40 which the author is likely to have used and which included ı૵ȝĮ, see Martin Karrer, “LXX Psalm 39:7–10 in Hebrews 10:5–7,” in Psalms and Hebrews. Studies in Reception, ed. Dirk J. Human and Gert J. Steyn, LHBOTS 527 (London: Bloomsbury, 2010), 126–46. He notes that both here and in 2:12–13 the pre-existent Jesus is depicted as speaking in the Psalm (pp. 128, 130). Karrer argues that the author’s text already read ı૵ȝĮ; and that the correction to ੩IJ઀Į was a secondary development (p. 143). See also Gert J. Steyn, A Quest for the Assumed LXX Vorlage of the Explicit Quotations in Hebrews, FRLANT 235 (Göttingen, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010), 282–97, who notes that the oldest LXX text reads ı૵ȝĮ, probably “due to palaeographical interchange” (p. 297). Georg A. Walser, Old Testament Quotations in Hebrews. Studies in their Textual and Contextual Background, WUNT 2.356 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), suggests that both readings existed at the time of Hebrews (p. 139); cf. Karen H. Jobes, “The function of paronomasia in Hebrews 10:5–7,” TJ 13 (1992): 181–91, who attributes ı૵ȝĮ to the author’s rhetorical creativity (p. 182). 105

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IJંIJİ İ੅ȡȘțİȞ· ‫ݧ‬įȠީ ‫ݜ‬țȦ IJȠࠎ ʌȠȚ߱ıĮȚ IJާ ș‫ޢ‬ȜȘȝ‫ ޠ‬ıȠȣ. ਕȞĮȚȡİ૙ IJઁ ʌȡ૵IJȠȞ ੆ȞĮ IJઁ įİ઄IJİȡȠȞ ıIJ੾ıૉ, ਥȞ મ șİȜ੾ȝĮIJȚ ਲȖȚĮıȝ੼ȞȠȚ ਥıȝ੻Ȟ įȚ੹ IJોȢ ʌȡȠıijȠȡ઼Ȣ IJȠ૨ ıઆȝĮIJȠȢ ੉ȘıȠ૨ ȋȡȚıIJȠ૨ ਥij੺ʌĮȟ. Then he said, “Behold I have come to your will.” He abolished the first in order to establish the second, by which willingness we are in a sanctified state through the once for all offering of the body of Jesus Christ. (10:9–10)

The offering of the body of Jesus Christ once and for all connects with the statements in 9:27–28 about his death and must mean this here. 107 Hence the contrast with the sacrificial death of the animals in what immediately precedes. Accordingly, in 10:12 we read: Ƞ੤IJȠȢ į੻ ȝ઀ĮȞ ਫ਼ʌ੻ȡ ਖȝĮȡIJȚ૵Ȟ ʌȡȠıİȞ੼ȖțĮȢ șȣı઀ĮȞ İੁȢ IJઁ įȚȘȞİț੻Ȣ ਥț੺șȚıİȞ ਥȞ įİȟȚઽ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨, IJઁ ȜȠȚʌઁȞ ਥțįİȤંȝİȞȠȢ ਪȦȢ IJİș૵ıȚȞ Ƞੂ ਥȤșȡȠ੿ Į੝IJȠ૨ ਫ਼ʌȠʌંįȚȠȞ IJ૵Ȟ ʌȠį૵Ȟ Į੝IJȠ૨. ȝȚઽ Ȗ੹ȡ ʌȡȠıijȠȡઽ IJİIJİȜİ઀ȦțİȞ İੁȢ IJઁ įȚȘȞİț੻Ȣ IJȠઃȢ ਖȖȚĮȗȠȝ੼ȞȠȣȢ. He, having offered one sacrifice for sins, took his seat permanently at God’s right hand, to wait finally until his enemies are put beneath his feet. For by one offering he has perfected for all time those who are made holy. (10:12–14)

Here, too, we follow the pattern of 9:27–28, except that the future hope is now expressed through the allusion to Ps 110:1. The once for all sacrifice most naturally refers to his death as it does in 9:28. Reading the allusion to “body” here as a reference to Christ’s resurrection body which he then offers to God as a symbol, like his blood, of a life of obedience does not adequately take into account the context and the strength of the author’s tradition.108 In 10:19–20 the author underlines the importance of what his daring adaptation of Atonement Day typology has been saying. ਯȤȠȞIJİȢ Ƞ੣Ȟ, ਕįİȜijȠ઀, ʌĮȡȡȘı઀ĮȞ İੁȢ IJ੽Ȟ İ੅ıȠįȠȞ IJ૵Ȟ ਖȖ઀ȦȞ ਥȞ IJ૶ Į੆ȝĮIJȚ ੉ȘıȠ૨, ਴Ȟ ਥȞİțĮ઀ȞȚıİȞ ਲȝ૙Ȟ ੒įઁȞ ʌȡંıijĮIJȠȞ țĮ੿ ȗ૵ıĮȞ įȚ੹ IJȠ૨ țĮIJĮʌİIJ੺ıȝĮIJȠȢ, IJȠ૨IJૅ ਩ıIJȚȞ IJોȢ ıĮȡțઁȢ Į੝IJȠ૨, țĮ੿ ੂİȡ੼Į ȝ੼ȖĮȞ ਥʌ੿ IJઁȞ ȠੇțȠȞ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨, ʌȡȠıİȡȤઆȝİșĮ ȝİIJ੹ ਕȜȘșȚȞોȢ țĮȡį઀ĮȢ ਥȞ ʌȜȘȡȠijȠȡ઀઺ ʌ઀ıIJİȦȢ ૧İȡĮȞIJȚıȝ੼ȞȠȚ IJ੹Ȣ țĮȡį઀ĮȢ ਕʌઁ ıȣȞİȚį੾ıİȦȢ ʌȠȞȘȡ઼Ȣ țĮ੿ ȜİȜȠȣıȝ੼ȞȠȚ IJઁ ı૵ȝĮ ੢įĮIJȚ țĮșĮȡ૶·

107

So Small, Characterization of Jesus, 185; Cf. Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen, who on the basis of 8:3 argues that body here must mean person and refer to the heavenly Jesus (p. 224). This results in the notion of an ongoing offering of his person in the heavenly sanctuary. Thus he writes: “Nun ist nicht das Opfer Christi eine sühnende Darbringung, wie das hohepriesterliche Opfer am Versöhnungstag, sondern markiert die Einsetzung des Sohnes zum Hohepriester” (p. 225). “Das Opfer Jesu scheint bisweilen fast nur rein formales Argument für die Einsetzung zum Hohepriester (Hebr 1,10) darzustellen” (p. 225). I see no evidence for such a notion. 108 Cf. Moffitt, Atonement, 230–32, who argues that the author uses Psalm 40 in Hebrews 10 to depict Jesus’ perfect obedience (p. 245). God was pleased with the offering of his body – in heaven (p. 247). His perfect life enabled him to take his resurrection body into heaven and offer it (p. 255).

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Therefore, brothers, having boldness for entry into the holy place through the blood of Jesus, which he inaugurated for us as a new and living way through the curtain, i.e. his flesh, and [having] a great priest over the house of God, let us approach with a genuine mind in full faith, with our minds cleansed from a bad conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. (10:19–22)

It is all about access and assurance that this access has been achieved as a result of Christ’s sacrifice represented in his blood and in his death through which he forged the way into the heavenly temple to where Christ is now the great priest over the house of God. In this somewhat daring and enigmatic statement the author draws together his previous expositions. He merges Atonement Day typology with what he had said earlier about the achievement of Christ’s death in disempowering the devil, 109 expressed here as making a way through the curtain for us, and thus recalls both 2:14–15 and 2:17–3:2, which focus on Jesus as high priest over the house of God and as here in the continuation of these verses affirms the need to hold fast to their confession: țĮIJ੼ȤȦȝİȞ IJ੽Ȟ ੒ȝȠȜȠȖ઀ĮȞ IJોȢ ਥȜʌ઀įȠȢ ਕțȜȚȞો, ʌȚıIJઁȢ Ȗ੹ȡ ੒ ਥʌĮȖȖİȚȜ੺ȝİȞȠȢ, țĮ੿ țĮIJĮȞȠ૵ȝİȞ ਕȜȜ੾ȜȠȣȢ İੁȢ ʌĮȡȠȟȣıȝઁȞ ਕȖ੺ʌȘȢ țĮ੿ țĮȜ૵Ȟ ਩ȡȖȦȞ, ȝ੽ ਥȖțĮIJĮȜİ઀ʌȠȞIJİȢ IJ੽Ȟ ਥʌȚıȣȞĮȖȦȖ੽Ȟ ਦĮȣIJ૵Ȟ, țĮșઅȢ ਩șȠȢ IJȚı઀Ȟ, ਕȜȜ੹ ʌĮȡĮțĮȜȠ૨ȞIJİȢ, țĮ੿ IJȠıȠ઄IJ૳ ȝ઼ȜȜȠȞ ੖ı૳ ȕȜ੼ʌİIJİ ਥȖȖ઀ȗȠȣıĮȞ IJ੽Ȟ ਲȝ੼ȡĮȞ. Let us hold firmly to the hope we confess, for the one has made the promise is reliable, and let us focus on stimulating one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting assembling together, as some are wont to do, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the day approaching. (10:23–25) ੖șİȞ ੭ijİȚȜİȞ țĮIJ੹ ʌ੺ȞIJĮ IJȠ૙Ȣ ਕįİȜijȠ૙Ȣ ੒ȝȠȚȦșોȞĮȚ, ੆ȞĮ ਥȜİ੾ȝȦȞ Ȗ੼ȞȘIJĮȚ țĮ੿ ʌȚıIJઁȢ ਕȡȤȚİȡİઃȢ IJ੹ ʌȡઁȢ IJઁȞ șİઁȞ İੁȢ IJઁ ੂȜ੺ıțİıșĮȚ IJ੹Ȣ ਖȝĮȡIJ઀ĮȢ IJȠ૨ ȜĮȠ૨. ਥȞ મ Ȗ੹ȡ ʌ੼ʌȠȞșİȞ Į੝IJઁȢ ʌİȚȡĮıșİ઀Ȣ, į઄ȞĮIJĮȚ IJȠ૙Ȣ ʌİȚȡĮȗȠȝ੼ȞȠȚȢ ȕȠȘșોıĮȚ. ੜșİȞ, ਕįİȜijȠ੿ ਚȖȚȠȚ, țȜ੾ıİȦȢ ਥʌȠȣȡĮȞ઀Ƞȣ ȝ੼IJȠȤȠȚ, țĮIJĮȞȠ੾ıĮIJİ IJઁȞ ਕʌંıIJȠȜȠȞ țĮ੿ ਕȡȤȚİȡ੼Į IJોȢ ੒ȝȠȜȠȖ઀ĮȢ ਲȝ૵Ȟ ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȟ, ʌȚıIJઁȞ ੕ȞIJĮ IJ૶ ʌȠȚ੾ıĮȞIJȚ Į੝IJઁȞ ੪Ȣ țĮ੿ ȂȦȨıોȢ ਥȞ [੖Ȝ૳] IJ૶ Ƞ੅ț૳ Į੝IJȠ૨. Wherefore it was fitting that he be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a compassionate and reliable high priest in matters relating to God to atone for the sins of the people. For inasmuch as he suffered being tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted. Wherefore, holy brothers, sharing in a heavenly calling, look to Jesus the high priest of our confession, who was faithful to the one who appointed him as also was Moses in [all] his house. (2:17–3:2) ਯȤȠȞIJİȢ Ƞ੣Ȟ ਕȡȤȚİȡ੼Į ȝ੼ȖĮȞ įȚİȜȘȜȣșંIJĮ IJȠઃȢ Ƞ੝ȡĮȞȠ઄Ȣ, ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȟ IJઁȞ ȣੂઁȞ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨, țȡĮIJ૵ȝİȞ IJોȢ ੒ȝȠȜȠȖ઀ĮȢ. Having therefore a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. (4:14)

109 So rightly Martin Karrer, Der Brief an die Hebräer. Kapitel 1,1–5,10, ÖTBK 20/1 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus; Würzburg: Echter, 2002), 183–84.

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Atonement Day typology reappears in the final chapter of Hebrews, where the author makes a connection between the detail that the carcasses of the slaughtered animals were burned outside the camp and Jesus’ death outside the camp to urge his hearers to be prepared to leave the camp. His reference to Jesus takes the following form: ǻȚઁ țĮ੿ ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȣ, ੆ȞĮ ਖȖȚ੺ıૉ įȚ੹ IJȠ૨ ੁį઀Ƞȣ Į੆ȝĮIJȠȢ IJઁȞ ȜĮંȞ, ਩ȟȦ IJોȢ ʌ઄ȜȘȢ ਩ʌĮșİȞ (13:12). Again the focus is on his death, represented by his blood.110 The reference is one sense incidental to the author’s main point, though some have seen irony in its depiction of sanctification being achieved not by a holy act within the temple but a disposal furthest from it.111 In the light of these considerations there appears to be evidence that, as one would expect, the death of Jesus is seen as the primary salvific act. It cannot be reduced to being merely preparatory. Nor can it be reduced to part of what is seen as an exemplary life which qualifies a heavenly offering to have effect. Nor is it so that all cultic imagery is restricted to references to the heavenly realm and references to Jesus’ death and its significance are all non-cultic.112 Clearly the author places the weight of significance on Jesus’ death as the salvific event. This is also reflected in his warning that apostasy would amount to crucifying to oneself the Son of God afresh (6:6). It is also implicit in the contrast between the sacrifice of animals and Christ’s sacrifice where the contrast is based not on the superiority of humans over animals, making a human sacrifice more potent or effective, a shocking notion, but on the difference between unblemished animals and a morally unblemished life. Both may be ritually unblemished, but the salient difference, namely moral unblemishedness, is what made Christ’s death much more than a preparatory

110

So Small, Characterization of Jesus, who writes: “Most likely, the altar is a metonymic expression designating the sacrificial death of Jesus on the cross” (p. 224); Richardson, Pioneer and Perfecter: “13.12 does not separate the blood and body of Jesus with regard to his sanctifying action on behalf of God’s people” (p. 44), but refers to a single act once and for all in his death (p. 45) and so sees 13:12 as “an interpretive key for unlocking the way that Jesus faithfully expiated sins (2.17)” (p. 45). 111 So Richardson, Pioneer and Perfecter, 43–44; similarly, Ole Jakob Filtvedt, The Identity of God's People and the Paradox of Hebrews, WUNT 2.400 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), who sees 13:11–13 as subversive, treating Atonement Day typology differently (pp. 228–30). 112 Cf. Gäbel, Kulttheologie: “Hebr deutet den irdischen Weg Jesu Christi als nichtopferkultische Selbsthingabe im Gehorsam gegen Gott […], seine Erhöhung als hohepriesterliche Investitur und so zugleich als Eintritt in das himmlische Allerheiligste und als himmlische Darbringung des hohepriesterlichen Selbstopfers” (p. 131; similarly, pp. 171–72). The demarcation is overdrawn. Moffitt, Atonement, argues similarly that “Jesus’ death is not directly correlated with sacrificial language,” nevertheless acknowledges an exception in 9:15 and 13:12 (p. 219).

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event like the killing of the animals.113 For it is what achieved atonement. This, too, reflects a Gewichtsverlagerung in relation to the understanding of the initial sacrifice. At the same time the author does clearly employ Atonement Day typology and does emphasise the entry of Jesus as high priest into the Holiest Place and his appearance before God. This is not to be denied. It is even possible that he envisages an act of purification of the heavenly temple, though this is uncertain. The shift of emphasis from the sprinkling as the salvific act to Jesus’ death in all probability accounts for his apparently deliberate avoidance of anything that matches the high priest’s taking blood with him into the Holiest place and sprinkling it on the mercy seat. Christ’s entry is related to his blood in the author’s typology not as an accompaniment but as a cause or basis for his entry. Hence the slightly awkward phrases įȚȐ and ਥȞ. I would consider it quite possible that the author does assume Christ enters with his blood, but does not mention it to avoid giving the impression that this was to perform the main act of atonement. It is even possible that he might have envisaged Christ as high priest presenting his blood before God, or even sprinkling it upon the heavenly mercy seat,114 but even if this could be so, the blood now functions differently from within the archetype. The reference to the blood of sprinkling in 12:24 could preserve an allusion.115 The blood in any case represents what the cross has achieved in accord with the use of blood imagery in the emerging Christian tradition. It was creative of the author to adapt the Atonement Day ritual and also other rituals in this way, so that symbolically Christ’s blood is depicted as representing his death and its achievement and so purifies from sin.

Jesus as High Priest One of the chief obstacles to seeing Christ thus as functioning as high priest already on earth is the way the author links his appointment as high priest to his exaltation. Whether another of his innovations116 or already a feature of his

113

As Eberhart, Kultmetaphorik, notes, the actual killing of the animals did not carry weight in itself and this was why the author had to draw on other cultic motifs as in 2:14–15 and 9:16–17 (p. 155). 114 Hahn, Theologie, 1.432–33. 115 Cf. Gäbel, Kulttheologie, sees the sprinkling motif deriving from the sprinkling of the ashes of the red heifer (289–90, 323). 116 Lindars, Theology, 64–65; Ellingworth, Hebrews, 67; Hans-Friedrich Weiss, Der Brief an die Hebräer, KEK 13 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991), 232; Lane, Hebrews, 1.cxli, who, for instance, disputes the use of hymnic sources (1. pp. cxli–cxlii); Gerd Schunack, Der Hebräerbrief, ZBK.NT 14 (Zürich: TVZ, 2002), who rejects proposals that 2:17 and 3:1 indicate high priesthood was in the author’s tradition (p. 17).

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tradition, 117 the author juxtaposes Ps 110:1 and Ps 110:4. As noted above, he also brings together diverse traditions about sonship. Jesus is the pre-existent Son through whom God created the worlds (1:2), hailed as creator also through Psalm 101 LXX in 1:10–12. Yet he is also the one who at his enthronement, expressed through allusion to Ps 110:1, was adopted as God’s Son in the words of Ps 2:7 and given the name “Son” when brought into the heavenly world as God’s firstborn, in a probable allusion to Psalm 89, and hailed indeed as “God” at his anointing by God in the words of Psalm 45. Like Paul in Rom 1:3–5 the author could embrace different models of sonship, one rooted in exaltation tradition which saw him appointed as messianic Son at his exaltation, another depicting him as Son since before his earthly life using amongst other influences, Wisdom tradition.118 The author embraces both strands of tradition. Might he not therefore also have embraced diverse notions of high priesthood? This would imply that one cannot use his appointment as high priest in association with his appointment as messianic Son at his exaltation to prove that he could not already have been high priest on earth and must have become high priest only after his death at his entry into the heavenly world,119 since he was already Son on earth through whom God spoke (1:1–2). Unless we explain away the motif of high priesthood from the author’s references to Christ’s salvific death, corresponding in the antitype to the high priest’s sacrifice of the animal on the altar before the Holy Place and the Holiest of

117

So Rissi, Theologie, who argues that the introduction of the motif of high priesthood without prior explanation in 2:17 and 3:1 indicate that it was already part of the author’s tradition (p. 55). 118 Cf. Barnard, Mysticism, who disputes the importance given to wisdom tradition as background to 1:2–3, even claiming that the present participle in ੔Ȣ ੫Ȟ ਕʌĮ઄ȖĮıȝĮ IJોȢ įંȟȘȢ țĮ੿ ȤĮȡĮțIJ੽ȡ IJોȢ ਫ਼ʌȠıIJ੺ıİȦȢ Į੝IJȠ૨, refers not to the pre-existent Son, but to the status he received at exaltation (pp. 150–54). Instead she points to Adam mysticism such as the anthropomorphic glory of God as attested in texts like 1 En. 14:18–20 (p. 155). She goes on to speculate that the author may be drawing on his own mystical experiences (pp. 157, 170). Aside from the latter speculation the strength of the parallels with christological wisdom tradition as in the prologue of the fourth gospel and Col 1:15–18, as well as the echoes of Wis 7 speak more in favour of the wisdom background and against limiting 1:3 to a reference only to the exalted Christ. This is not to deny possible influence of apocalyptic mysticism on the author’s understanding of exaltation christology. 119 Cf. Ellingworth, Hebrews, 186; Small, Characterization of Jesus, 184, who claims that “the contrary-to-fact conditional in 8,4 indicates that Jesus was not a priest on earth” (p. 184) and that “furthermore, it seems that his entrance into heaven was also a requirement (6:20; 7:26–27), which also presupposes his sacrificial death (9:12; 10:12)” (p. 185). Accordingly, he was appointed high priest at the same time as his coronation as royal son (p. 249); similarly, Helmut Feld, Der Hebräerbrief, EdF 228 (Darmstadt: WBG, 1985), 78; Calaway, Sabbath, 150; Barnard, Mysticism, 135–39. She argues that “certain aspects of Heb 1:5–13 allude to Christ’s priestly investiture and/or priestly identity” (p. 141). Specifically priestly motifs do not however appear in 1:5–13.

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Holies, we are faced with the situation of the author combining two different streams of thought about Jesus’ high priesthood,120 just as he does about his sonship. Jesus was high priest on earth offering himself as a sacrifice 121 and he was appointed high priest to the continuing role of intercessor as in the author’s received tradition to exercise the ministry of intercession on behalf of his own. Indeed, the sequence of taking his seat at God’s right hand and so being seated is appropriate for the role of intercessor, as parallels show.122 The dominant use of the high priesthood motif in the first eight chapters of Hebrews is to focus on the presence of Christ as high priest in heaven where he appears before God on behalf of his own. The overall framework which informs this understanding is of believers being on a journey during which they already have access to God, 123 but which has as its goal entry into heavenly rest. Christ, who made the way possible as the pioneer, is the forerunner now in the presence of God as high priest.124 This first comes to expression in 2:17– 18. Ideals of high priesthood as being reliable 125 and able also to be

120 See the identification of the problem of timing in Wolfgang Kraus, “Zu Absicht und Zielsetzung des Hebräerbriefes,” KD 60 (2014): 250–71, 264–65; Kibbe, “Is it Finished?” who finally adopts the position of Socinius that he became high priest only after his exaltation (pp. 38–41); Braun, Hebräer, 32–33, who notes the tension, adding: “Ob der Hb selber diese Aporie gemerkt hat, ist fraglich” (p. 33). See also Schenck, Cosmology and Eschatology, 108; Koester, “God’s Purposes,” 109–10; Attridge, Hebrews, who concurs with my finding that the tension about the timing of Jesus’ becoming high priest results from the author’s addition of atonement day typology to the high priest motif (p. 146). 121 Scholer, Proleptic Priests, observes that “it is necessary to recognize that no high priest was consecrated a high priest simply upon his entry into the holy of holies. […] Therefore the heavenly high priesthood of Christ ought not to be understood as his initial moment of priesthood” (p. 85). He sees the use of the name “Jesus” as indicating that the high priestly role belonged to his earthly existence (p. 85), as reflected in 2:17 (pp. 83–84, 89). He notes the “chronological confusion about Christ’s high priestly activity” (p. 82) and writes of the “indivisibility of the earthly and heavenly high priesthood of Christ” (p. 88). 122 So Braun, Hebräer, 72, citing J. H. Davies, The heavenly work of Christ, SE IV/TU 102 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1968), 384–89, 388–89. Nelson, “He Offered Himself,” draws attention to the parallel in 1 Kings 2:19–21 of Bathsheba sitting down and gaining access to Solomon (p. 257). 123 So Barnard, Mysticism, 180–84; Calaway, Sabbath, citing 4:14–16 (182–87), 6:4–6 (187–92), 6:19–20 (192–94), 12:22–24 (208–11), 10:19–25 (194–208); Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 430–31; Mackie, Eschatology, 208–11; Scholer, Proleptic Priests, 112, who makes the same point in relation also to 7:25 (p. 124), 10:22 (p. 131) and 12:22–24 (p. 149). 124 So, for instance, Söding, “Hoherpriester,” who writes: “Der Hebräerbrief beschreibt die Erlösung, die Jesus schafft, als einen Weg” (p. 97). 125 Todd D. Still, “Christos as Pistos: The Faith(fulness) of Jesus in the Epistle to the Hebrews,” CBQ 69 (2007): 746–55, sees this referring to the Son’s fidelity during his incarnation (pp. 749–50). Cf. Richardson, Pioneer and Perfecter, who argues that ʌȚıIJȩȢ in 2:17 refers to his earthly work of atonement (p. 29) and should not be confused with his faithfulness in his earthly ministry in 3:1–6 and 4:15 (pp. 49–74). He sees merciful as also

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compassionate 126 are more than met by Jesus as he fulfils the role of the high priest on behalf of his own. ੖șİȞ ੭ijİȚȜİȞ țĮIJ੹ ʌ੺ȞIJĮ IJȠ૙Ȣ ਕįİȜijȠ૙Ȣ ੒ȝȠȚȦșોȞĮȚ, ੆ȞĮ ਥȜİ੾ȝȦȞ Ȗ੼ȞȘIJĮȚ țĮ੿ ʌȚıIJઁȢ ਕȡȤȚİȡİઃȢ IJ੹ ʌȡઁȢ IJઁȞ șİઁȞ İੁȢ IJઁ ੂȜ੺ıțİıșĮȚ IJ੹Ȣ ਖȝĮȡIJ઀ĮȢ IJȠ૨ ȜĮȠ૨. ਥȞ મ Ȗ੹ȡ ʌ੼ʌȠȞșİȞ Į੝IJઁȢ ʌİȚȡĮıșİ઀Ȣ, į઄ȞĮIJĮȚ IJȠ૙Ȣ ʌİȚȡĮȗȠȝ੼ȞȠȚȢ ȕȠȘșોıĮȚ. Wherefore it was fitting that he be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a compassionate and reliable high priest in matters relating to God to atone for the sins of the people. For inasmuch as he suffered being tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted. (2:17–18)

The immediate import of 2:17 is found in 2:18. Because Christ has suffered and been tested with temptation to give up and did not, he has the ability to help others who are similarly tested. But this picks up only two elements from 2:17, ਥȜİ੾ȝȦȞ and ʌȚıIJંȢ. The words ਥȜİ੾ȝȦȞ Ȗ੼ȞȘIJĮȚ țĮ੿ ʌȚıIJઁȢ ਕȡȤȚİȡİઃȢ IJ੹ ʌȡઁȢ IJઁȞ șİઁȞ İੁȢ IJઁ ੂȜ੺ıțİıșĮȚ IJ੹Ȣ ਖȝĮȡIJ઀ĮȢ IJȠ૨ ȜĮȠ૨ seem almost formulaic, or at least the words ਕȡȤȚİȡİઃȢ IJ੹ ʌȡઁȢ IJઁȞ șİઁȞ İੁȢ IJઁ ੂȜ੺ıțİıșĮȚ IJ੹Ȣ ਖȝĮȡIJ઀ĮȢ IJȠ૨ ȜĮȠ૨. That is certainly part of what a high priest does and the definitive formula, whether tradition or the author’s own, explains the terminology of ੂȜ੺ıțİıșĮȚ and the present form of the infinitive. It functions as programmatic statement of what the author will develop from chapter 9.127 Fuhrmann makes a case for reading ੂȜ੺ıțİıșĮȚ as referring not to a cultic act but to an ongoing action of persuading God to be forgiving and so relates this not to an act or acts of expiation, but to Christ’s ongoing heavenly role or seeking forgiveness for the sins of his own.128 If this were the case, it would be surprising that then 2:18 does not pick it up.

relating to atonement rather than to intercession, despite acknowledging this motif in 4:14, 16; 7:25 (pp. 46–47). 126 Horbury, “Aaronic Priesthood,” notes that “endurance of temptation (Heb. 2.18; 4.15) and the sorrowful supplication (Heb. 5.7) both well befit a high priest (Deut. 33.8, PseudoJonathan; 2 Macc. 3.16f., 21)” (p. 65). See also Kevin B. McCruden, Solidarity Perfected. Beneficent Christology in the Epistle to the Hebrews, BZNW 159 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008), who notes these values in non-literary papyri as reflecting perfection of character (pp. 69, 100); similarly Patrick Gray, “Brotherly Love and the High Priest Christology of Hebrews,” JBL 122 (2003): 335–51, who points to Greco-Roman ideals of fraternal devotion (p. 338). deSilva, “Invention,” sees Hebrews reflecting Samuel tradition which speaks of “God’s promise to ‘raise up a faithful priest’ (ȚİȡȑĮ ʌȚıIJȩȞ, 1 Sam 2:35)” (p. 298). 127 Similarly Claus-Peter März, Hebräerbrief, NEchtB.NT 16 (Würzburg: Echter, 1989), 31; Weiss, Hebräer, 224; Mitchell, Hebrews, 76–77; Cockerill, Hebrews: “probably has Christ’s ‘one-for-all’ sacrifice in view” (p. 150); Attridge, Hebrews, 145; Lane, Hebrews, 1.66. See also Richardson, Pioneer and Perfecter, who rejects reading ੂȜ੺ıțİıșĮȚ as a continuing activity (pp. 31, 35), while acknowledging my reference to the tension which 2:17 produces (p. 32). Cf. Loader, Sohn und Hoherpriester, 201. 128 Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen, 26. His argument depends in part on the fact that the LXX uses ਥȟȚȜ੺ıțİıșĮȚ in referring to the Day of Atonement and that ੂȜ੺ıțİıșĮȚ mainly

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In 2:18 the focus is not as in 1 John 2:1–2, to which many refer, advocacy for forgiveness of confessed sins of believers, but help for them not to sin.129 The same concern is present in 4:14–16, where approaching the throne of grace is to receive help in time of need. What kind of help? ਯȤȠȞIJİȢ Ƞ੣Ȟ ਕȡȤȚİȡ੼Į ȝ੼ȖĮȞ įȚİȜȘȜȣșંIJĮ IJȠઃȢ Ƞ੝ȡĮȞȠ઄Ȣ, ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȟ IJઁȞ ȣੂઁȞ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨, țȡĮIJ૵ȝİȞ IJોȢ ੒ȝȠȜȠȖ઀ĮȢ. Ƞ੝ Ȗ੹ȡ ਩ȤȠȝİȞ ਕȡȤȚİȡ੼Į ȝ੽ įȣȞ੺ȝİȞȠȞ ıȣȝʌĮșોıĮȚ IJĮ૙Ȣ ਕıșİȞİ઀ĮȚȢ ਲȝ૵Ȟ, ʌİʌİȚȡĮıȝ੼ȞȠȞ į੻ țĮIJ੹ ʌ੺ȞIJĮ țĮșૅ ੒ȝȠȚંIJȘIJĮ ȤȦȡ੿Ȣ ਖȝĮȡIJ઀ĮȢ. ʌȡȠıİȡȤઆȝİșĮ Ƞ੣Ȟ ȝİIJ੹ ʌĮȡȡȘı઀ĮȢ IJ૶ șȡંȞ૳ IJોȢ Ȥ੺ȡȚIJȠȢ, ੆ȞĮ Ȝ੺ȕȦȝİȞ ਩ȜİȠȢ țĮ੿ Ȥ੺ȡȚȞ İ੢ȡȦȝİȞ İੁȢ İ੡țĮȚȡȠȞ ȕȠ੾șİȚĮȞ. Having therefore a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is incapable of sympathising with our weaknesses, but one who has been through temptation in everything just like us but without sin. Let us therefore approach with confidence the throne of grace, so that we may receive help in the times we need it. (4:14–16)

Here it is clear that the help promised is help not to sin, not help after sinning, namely forgiveness.130 The author is focusing on Christ’s role as interceding high priest. In 5:1–3 the author notes high priestly solidarity in relation to sin as a fallible and failing being himself. One might then read this as implying that Christ’s sympathy does in fact relate to forgiveness of the sins of believers, but this is not what the author has said. His focus is on Christ’s sympathy as high priest because he knows what it is like to experience suffering and so be faced with the temptation to escape it by giving up. This is the import also of 5:7–8, 131 depicting Jesus’ endurance under distress,132 which the author

means “‘besänftigen’ aber auch ‘gnädig sein’” (p. 24). Similarly, Gäbel, Kulttheologie, argues that that 2:17 is about help for tempted and forgiveness for their sins (pp. 216–18), on the basis that ੂȜ੺ıțİıșĮȚ means forgiving sin in a non-cultic sense (pp. 218–19, 226). The heavenly high priest solicits forgiveness and help for his own on the basis of his “einmalige[n] Selbstopfer für die Seinen” (p. 478). The demarcation here between cultic and non-cultic where the effect of a cultic act is being appealed to seems artificial. 129 Cf. Scholer, Proleptic Priests, 169, 178; März, Hebräerbrief, 51; Weiss, Hebräer, 418; Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen, who reads 2:18 as concerned with forgiveness: “um für diese einzutreten, damit Gott in Bezug auf die Sünden gnädig ist” (p. 29). 130 Cf. Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen, who sees in 2:17–18; 4:14–16 and 5:1–10 the faith, “dass der Hohepriester Christus vor Gott durch seine Fürbitte Gottes gnädig-Sein im Hinblick auf die jeweilige Betretung erwirkt” (p. 95; similarly, pp. 99, 122). 131 On “offering” here as not cultic but a common metaphor for prayer, see Eberhart, Kultmetaphorik, 136; Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 172–81; cf. Gelardini, “Yom Kippur,” 246; Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen, 111–12. 132 On not reading this as a reference to Gethsemane or limiting it to such a reference, see Scholer, Proleptic Priests, 87; Jürgen Roloff, “Der mitleidende Hohepriester. Zur Frage nach der Bedeutung des irdischen Jesus für die Christologie des Hebräerbriefes,” in Jesus Christus in Historie und Theologie (FS Hans Conzelmann), ed. Georg Strecker (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1975), 143–66, 154; Michael Bachmann, “Hohepriesterliches Leiden. Beobacht-

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surrounds on either side with the tradition based on Ps 110:4 of Christ’s appointment as high priest, linked in 5:5 with his adoption as messianic son, though here as in 1:1–5 we find the similar juxtaposition of adoption to sonship after death with being Son already before it. țĮ੿ IJİȜİȚȦșİ੿Ȣ ਥȖ੼ȞİIJȠ ʌ઼ıȚȞ IJȠ૙Ȣ ਫ਼ʌĮțȠ઄ȠȣıȚȞ Į੝IJ૶ Į੅IJȚȠȢ ıȦIJȘȡ઀ĮȢ ĮੁȦȞ઀Ƞȣ, ʌȡȠıĮȖȠȡİȣșİ੿Ȣ ਫ਼ʌઁ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨ ਕȡȤȚİȡİઃȢ țĮIJ੹ IJ੽Ȟ IJ੺ȟȚȞ ȂİȜȤȚı੼įİț. And having been brought to the end of his journey he became the cause of salvation for all who submit to him, having been appointed by God a high priest after the order of Melchisedek. (5:9–10)

We have argued 133 that IJİȜİȚȦșİ઀Ȣ here and in its use elsewhere means being brought to the goal of one’s journey beyond death or the assurance of the same. Some see his being made perfect as also an allusion to his appointment as high priest, but this is unlikely.134 It is more likely to mean that he was brought to the goal of his journey135 and also not moral 136 or vocational137 training to make him fit for the appointment.138 Accordingly, after death he became Į੅IJȚȠȢ

ungen zu Hebr 5,1–10,” ZNW 78 (1987): 244–66, 256, 264–65; Richardson, Pioneer and Perfecter, 74–89; Backhaus, “Knoten,” 139. 133 Loader, Sohn und Hoherpriester, 46–49. 134 So rightly Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 163–70. See also the discussion in McCruden, Solidarity Perfected, 12–18. 135 Hahn, Theologie, writes: “Es geht dabei grundlegend um das eigene Vollendetwerden Jesu, wozu sein Tod, seine Auferweckung, sein Eingehen in die Herrlichkeit und sein Sitzen zur Rechten Gottes gehört (2,10; 5,9; 7,28; 10,14)” (1. p. 431). “Bei dem Motiv der ‘Vollendung’ ist also ähnlich wie bei dem johanneischen Motiv der ‘Erhöhung’ bzw. ‘Verherrlichung’ Tod und Einsetzung in das himmlische Amt als Einheit verstanden” (1. p. 434). Scholer, Proleptic Priests, affirms my analysis but suggests a correction on the basis of 10:14 (198–99). “‘Perfection’ as applied to individuals does not imply their personal deaths. Rather, Christ’s death as past event effects the present ‘access’ of believers, which explains the use of the perfect verb, IJİIJİȜİ઀ȦțİȞ” (p. 199). “Thus we may conclude that IJİȜİȚȠ૨Ȟ serves to describe the ‘attaining to the goal’, which is the direct presence of God. When used of the living believers it bespeaks a present reality and parallels the Epistle’s cultic use of ʌȡȠı੼ȡȤİıșĮȚ. When dealing with Jesus Christ and the dead faithful it parallels Hebrew’s usage of İੁı੼ȡȤİıșĮȚ” (p. 200). The problem here is that it scarcely makes sense of the use of the word in relation to Jesus. It is better then to take the perfect in 10:14 to refer to what has been permanently achieved, namely their future access to glory (as 2:10), rather than their access to God’s presence on earth. 136 Cf. Compton, Psalm 110, who writes: “It was his faithfulness through it all that qualified him (IJİȜİȚȦșİ઀Ȣ) to be designated (ʌȡȠıĮȖȠȡİȣșİ઀Ȣ) by God as high priest (v. 10; cf. vv. 5–6)” (p. 74) and see the discussion in McCruden, Solidarity Perfected, 18–20. 137 Cf. Small, Characterization of Jesus, who sees it referring “to the process whereby he fulfilled his vocational qualification of melchizedekian priesthood” (p. 223); similarly, Dunnill, Covenant and Sacrifice, 221–22. See also McCruden, Solidarity Perfected, 20–24. 138 Cf. Amy L.B. Peeler, You Are My Son. The Family of God in the Epistle to the Hebrews, LNTS 486 (London: Bloomsbury, 2014): “The author of Hebrews associates

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ıȦIJȘȡ઀ĮȢ ĮੁȦȞ઀Ƞȣ for all who obey him. One could harness this as evidence that the salvific act must therefore have been post mortal in the heavenly world,139 but the focus here is on enabling his own to complete the journey. Through his intercession as high priest to which he was appointed by God (ʌȡȠıĮȖȠȡİȣșİ઀Ȣ), the same idea expressed in Rom 1:4 by ੒ȡȚıș੼ȞIJȠȢ of Jesus’ appointment as Son of God, Christ will enable his own to reach the ultimate of salvation. A similar thought comes to expression in 12:1–2: įȚૅ ਫ਼ʌȠȝȠȞોȢ IJȡ੼ȤȦȝİȞ IJઁȞ ʌȡȠțİ઀ȝİȞȠȞ ਲȝ૙Ȟ ਕȖ૵ȞĮ ਕijȠȡ૵ȞIJİȢ İੁȢ IJઁȞ IJોȢ ʌ઀ıIJİȦȢ ਕȡȤȘȖઁȞ țĮ੿ IJİȜİȚȦIJ੽Ȟ ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȟ, ੔Ȣ ਕȞIJ੿ IJોȢ ʌȡȠțİȚȝ੼ȞȘȢ Į੝IJ૶ ȤĮȡ઼Ȣ ਫ਼ʌ੼ȝİȚȞİȞ ıIJĮȣȡઁȞ ĮੁıȤ઄ȞȘȢ țĮIJĮijȡȠȞ੾ıĮȢ ਥȞ įİȟȚઽ IJİ IJȠ૨ șȡંȞȠȣ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨ țİț੺șȚțİȞ. Let us run with endurance the race which lies ahead of us looking to the one who started off our faith and will bring it to the finishing line, who in the light of the joy which lay before him endured the crucifixion, put up with its shame, and is seated at the right hand of God. (12:1b–2)

And also in 6:20, when the author returns to the theme, this time using a daring combination of temple and nautical imagery to speak of this hope: ਴Ȟ ੪Ȣ ਙȖțȣȡĮȞ ਩ȤȠȝİȞ IJોȢ ȥȣȤોȢ ਕıijĮȜો IJİ țĮ੿ ȕİȕĮ઀ĮȞ țĮ੿ İੁıİȡȤȠȝ੼ȞȘȞ İੁȢ IJઁ ਥıઆIJİȡȠȞ IJȠ૨ țĮIJĮʌİIJ੺ıȝĮIJȠȢ, ੖ʌȠȣ ʌȡંįȡȠȝȠȢ ਫ਼ʌ੻ȡ ਲȝ૵Ȟ İੁıોȜșİȞ ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȣ, țĮIJ੹ IJ੽Ȟ IJ੺ȟȚȞ ȂİȜȤȚı੼įİț ਕȡȤȚİȡİઃȢ ȖİȞંȝİȞȠȢ İੁȢ IJઁȞ Įੁ૵ȞĮ. which we have as an anchor for our lives, safe and secure and reaching right inside the curtain, where Jesus has gone as forerunner for our sakes, having become forever a high priest after the order of Melchisedek. (6:19–20)

The hope is based on Christ’s presence in the Holiest place where he intercedes for his own. After the author’s arguments about the inherent superiority of Christ’s high priesthood, not only because of his appointment but also because of his being

perfection with the state of those who are in the presence of God” (p. 129), but she sees this as indicating the process of the perfecting of Jesus through suffering and obedience (p. 139). “Jesus experiences testing through suffering through the will of his Father so that he can be perfected” (p. 191). McCruden, Solidarity Perfected, notes that in papyri IJİȜİ઀Ȧ means to attest and so as “having more to do with commentary upon the character of Christ than with denoting an action or activity affecting Christ’s person as such” (p. 69). This does not adequately take into account that the author uses IJİȜİȚȠ૨Ȟ to refer to movement towards a goal, hence the link between bringing sons to glory and Christ’s own being brought to glory in 2:10. 139 Cf. Scholer, Proleptic Priests, who writes: “At 5.9 Christ, as the ‘source of eschatological salvation’, appears to be effective as high priest only after his death and entrance (here, IJİȜİȚȠ૨Ȟ) into the holy of holies” (p. 168). “Christ enters with his blood, symbolizing the perpetually efficacious offering of his life” (p. 168).

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as Son,140 and so of the new order, the author returns to the theme of intercession in 7:25. ੖șİȞ țĮ੿ ı૴ȗİȚȞ İੁȢ IJઁ ʌĮȞIJİȜ੻Ȣ į઄ȞĮIJĮȚ IJȠઃȢ ʌȡȠıİȡȤȠȝ੼ȞȠȣȢ įȚૅ Į੝IJȠ૨ IJ૶ șİ૶, ʌ੺ȞIJȠIJİ ȗ૵Ȟ İੁȢ IJઁ ਥȞIJȣȖȤ੺ȞİȚȞ ਫ਼ʌ੻ȡ Į੝IJ૵Ȟ. Wherefore he is able also to save completely those who approach God through him, because he is forever alive to make intercession on their behalf. (7:25)

Again, as in 5:9 the focus is reaching salvation’s goal and the key to this is the intercession of Jesus the high priest to help them complete the journey.141 Already in Hebrew 5 we see the beginnings of a secondary agenda which the author is pursuing and which then comes to fuller expression in chapters 7 and 8, namely the superiority of the new over the old. In the course of these arguments the author returns to Christ’s heavenly high priesthood in 7:25 and also in 8:1–6. Christ’s ongoing heavenly high priesthood is set in contrast to earthly priests. This has been the main point in what the author has been saying thus far. 142 Ȁİij੺ȜĮȚȠȞ į੻ ਥʌ੿ IJȠ૙Ȣ ȜİȖȠȝ੼ȞȠȚȢ, IJȠȚȠ૨IJȠȞ ਩ȤȠȝİȞ ਕȡȤȚİȡ੼Į, ੔Ȣ ਥț੺șȚıİȞ ਥȞ įİȟȚઽ IJȠ૨ șȡંȞȠȣ IJોȢ ȝİȖĮȜȦı઄ȞȘȢ ਥȞ IJȠ૙Ȣ Ƞ੝ȡĮȞȠ૙Ȣ, IJ૵Ȟ ਖȖ઀ȦȞ ȜİȚIJȠȣȡȖઁȢ țĮ੿ IJોȢ ıțȘȞોȢ IJોȢ ਕȜȘșȚȞોȢ, ਴Ȟ ਩ʌȘȟİȞ ੒ ț઄ȡȚȠȢ, Ƞ੝ț ਙȞșȡȦʌȠȢ. The main thing in what is being said is that we have such a high priest, who has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of the mighty one in the heavens, a minister of the holy place and true tabernacle, which God pitched, not a human being. (8:1–2)

Here he is described as a ȜİȚIJȠȣȡȖȩȢ. In the following verses he is depicted as making offerings. Ȇ઼Ȣ Ȗ੹ȡ ਕȡȤȚİȡİઃȢ İੁȢ IJઁ ʌȡȠıij੼ȡİȚȞ į૵ȡ੺ IJİ țĮ੿ șȣı઀ĮȢ țĮș઀ıIJĮIJĮȚ· ੖șİȞ ਕȞĮȖțĮ૙ȠȞ ਩ȤİȚȞ IJȚ țĮ੿ IJȠ૨IJȠȞ ੔ ʌȡȠıİȞ੼Ȗțૉ. 140

Cf. David M. Moffitt, “The role of Jesus’ resurrection in the Epistle to the Hebrews, once again: a brief response to Jean-René Moret,” NTS 62 (2016): 308–14, who writes: “The resurrection of Jesus [...] result[s] in Jesus being like Melchizedek – that is, possessing a heavenly, enduring life” (p. 207). Only then does the Son’s humanity become indestructible life (p. 311). This denies the more obvious allusion to the Son’s divine being as the basis for his indestructible life and being ਕʌ੺IJȦȡ ਕȝ੾IJȦȡ ਕȖİȞİĮȜંȖȘIJȠȢ, ȝ੾IJİ ਕȡȤ੽Ȟ ਲȝİȡ૵Ȟ ȝ੾IJİ ȗȦોȢ IJ੼ȜȠȢ ਩ȤȦȞ, hardly qualities acquired only through his resurrection/ exaltation. So rightly Cockerill, Hebrews, 37. 141 Attridge, Hebrews, writes: “The earlier descriptions of Christ’s intercessory role in Hebrews indicates that the provision of such assistance in time of trial is also, if not primarily in view” (p. 212). Cf. Grässer, Hebräer, who sees 9:12 repeating 7:25 and referring to an eternal, lasting salvation (2. p. 153). 142 Cf. Kraus, “Aufnahme von Ex 24f”: “Von der Fortsetzung mit ਥʌ੿ IJȠ૙Ȣ ȜİȖȠȝ੼ȞȠȚȢ her geht es nicht nur um das bisher Gesagte oder die folgenden Kapitel, sondern um die gesamte Darlegung” (p. 97); repeated in Kraus, “Absicht,” 266. He notes that 10:19 could easily follow on from 6:20. “Die Ursache für die breiten Ausführungen muss in einer Fragestellung liegen, die in der Gemeinde virulent war” (p. 268).

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For every high priest is appointed to be offering gifts and sacrifices. Wherefore he had to have something to offer. (8:3)

His role as ȜİȚIJȠȣȡȖȩȢ having taken on a įȚĮijȠȡȦIJ੼ȡĮȢ […] ȜİȚIJȠȣȡȖ઀ĮȢ is related to his being the mediator of a new order. ȞȣȞ[੿] į੻ įȚĮijȠȡȦIJ੼ȡĮȢ IJ੼IJȣȤİȞ ȜİȚIJȠȣȡȖ઀ĮȢ, ੖ı૳ țĮ੿ țȡİ઀IJIJȠȞંȢ ਥıIJȚȞ įȚĮș੾țȘȢ ȝİı઀IJȘȢ, ਸ਼IJȚȢ ਥʌ੿ țȡİ઀IJIJȠıȚȞ ਥʌĮȖȖİȜ઀ĮȚȢ ȞİȞȠȝȠș੼IJȘIJĮȚ. Now he has obtained a superior ministry inasmuch as he is mediator of a better order, which is founded on better promises. (8:6)

The author’s next step after citing the promise of a new order is to develop and expound his Atonement Day typology, which he does in chapter 9. It will then shift the focus onto the foundation for this new order. At most when we read of his having something to offer, we may think of his offering blood as representing Jesus’ death, but this would not accord with the author’s statements elsewhere. The mediatorial role may still relate to his ongoing intercession for his own,143 but it may relate more broadly to worship. The focus in chapter 8 remains however on the heavenly ministry of Christ as emphasised in the previous chapters. This makes sense of the comment İੁ ȝ੻Ȟ Ƞ੣Ȟ ਷Ȟ ਥʌ੿ ȖોȢ, Ƞ੝įૅ ਗȞ ਷Ȟ ੂİȡİ઄Ȣ, ੕ȞIJȦȞ IJ૵Ȟ ʌȡȠıijİȡંȞIJȦȞ țĮIJ੹ ȞંȝȠȞ IJ੹ į૵ȡĮ (8:4), because the role the author is depicting Jesus fulfilling as high priest is his ministry in the heavenly temple. This verse cannot then be used to rule out that the author would then also depict Christ as high priest fulfilling a different role, that of the high priest on Atonement Day, which entailed his death as a sacrifice. As we have already noted, the focus in chapter 8 falls again on the heavenly high priest of Christ and his intercessory role. This focus returns in the author’s exhortation with which he begins chapter 12, where, reminiscent of 4:14–16; 6:19–20; 8:1–2; and 10:19–25, he points to Jesus as the one who made their journey possible and will help them complete it, by implication by his ongoing intercession. Possibly 9:24 also has Christ’s present intercessory role in mind. The issue of relating Christ’s intercessory role to Atonement Day typology has been complex. The author nowhere indicates that that intercession might

143

Gäbel, Kulttheologie, rightly notes that 8:3 cannot refer to a repeated sacrificial offering, but uses the present tense because it states a general principle and refers to Christ’s ongoing work on behalf of his own which he sees as intercession both for help and for forgiveness (p. 478). He offers his earthly obedience and praise in the heavenly cult. “Im himmlischen Kult wird die auf Erden gelebte Existenz bzw. der gelebte Gehorsam als das wahre Opfer dargebracht” (p. 482). The notion that Christ’s ongoing offering as high priest is the offering of his obedient life misconstrues the relevance of his earthly life which the author relates to his intercessory role on the basis that his experience of being faithful despite suffering enables him to intercede to help those facing similar situations.

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also include intercession for forgiveness of sins as many have assumed, 144 and not just help to remain faithful and not sin despite the prospect of suffering. It is certainly possible that the author might have imagined Christ as also engaging in intercession for their forgiveness constantly pointing to his blood in the heavenly realm and the purification from sins through his sacrifice which it represents,145 but this is speculative. The author does not say so.

Atonement Simultaneously on Earth and in Heaven? The realisation that the author gives weight to Jesus’ death as more than preparatory or/and more than qualificatory as a life and death of obedience, a worthy sacrifice, and yet also gives weight to Jesus’ entry into the heavenly temple, has led some to speculate that perhaps the author sees the death and the entry as happening simultaneously, that is, on the earthly level and the heavenly level at the same time.146 The serious problem with such an ontology is that the

144 So rightly Hahn, Theologie, 1.432; cf. Gäbel, Kulttheologie: “Der himmlische Hohepriester Christus vermittelt ihnen die Vergebung der Sünden (Hebr 2,17f; 4,14–16)” (p. 202); similarly, p. 478; Rissi, Theologie, 81; Scholer, Proleptic Priests, 85, 169; Braun, Hebräer, 221; Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen, 29, 95, 252. He acknowledges the difficulty that 6:4–6 implies no forgiveness, but then explains this as not apostasy but “Vorbeistolpern” (p. 238); “ein Verhalten, das in seiner Folge zum Abfall führen könnte, selbst aber noch kein endgültiges Verlassen der Heilsgemeinschaft beschreibt” (p. 238), whereas 10:19–39 is about apostasy (pp. 239, 243). “Mitnichten ist hierbei eine ‘zweite Buße’ ausgeschlossen. Von der Argumentation des Schreibens her wäre dies auch ungewöhnlich, beträfe dann doch die Fürsprache des Sohnes nur versehentliche oder leichte Verfehlungen, welche schon nach antikem Empfinden keine Übertretungen im eigentlichen Sinne darstellten” (pp. 249–50). This seems like special pleading. 145 Cf. Scholer, Proleptic Priests: “Therefore, as elsewhere in Heb., although the redemption or the atonement for sins appears to have been accomplished at the cross, this ought not lead us to discount altogether (as do for instance, Loader and Bruce) the salvific efficacy inherent, as well, in Christ’s subsequent entry and presentation of his blood” (p. 168). 146 So Franz Laub, Bekenntnis und Auslegung. Die paränetische Funktion der Christologie im Hebräerbrief, BU 15 (Regensburg: Pustet, 1980), who writes: “Als das überragende Opfer kann der Autor den Kreuzestod deshalb hinstellen, weil er bei der Umsetzung der Erniedrigungs-Erhöhungschristologie in Kultchristologie sagen kann, dass im Darbringen Jesu am Kreuz sich zugleich das hohepriestliche Hineingehen ereignet” (pp. 211–12). See his fuller discussion in support of this on pp. 168–221. See also the critical discussion in Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 8–9, who notes that Grässer adopted Laub’s position in Hebräer, 2.194. See also Marshall, “Soteriology,” who writes that the author “may have thought of heaven as a ‘place’ coexisting above the earth” (p. 271); and Kibbe, “Is it Finished?” who sees Jesus’ death and his heavenly offering coinciding (p. 35).

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author does appear to take time and space seriously and so assumes the movement from one to the other.147 As Gäbel notes: Festzuhalten ist, dass die Urbild-Abbild Relation im Hebr für das Verhältnis von irdischem und himmlischem Heiligtum in Anspruch genommen wird; dagegen ist eine allgemeine, idealistische Erkenntnistheorie ebensowenig im Blick wie eine Verbindung anderer Größen – etwa des Todes Christi auf Erden – als irdisches Abbild mit dem himmlischen, urbildlichen Kult. Die Urbild-Abbild-Relation ist im Hebr eingebunden in eine verheissungsgeschichtlich verstandene Abfolge zweier kultischer Heilssetzungen (įȚĮș੾țĮȚ), wie in Hebr 7 und nochmals in Hebr 8,6 deutlich wird. 148

There are however similar attempts to see the event of Jesus’ death as the moment in which he then enters the heavenly world, so that death and exaltation are seen as a single whole, as though one can leave out any reference to resurrection.149 This way of approaching the relationship has also been applied in attempts to interpret Johannine understandings of Jesus’ death, where clearly the author sees death, exaltation, glorification, ascension and return to the Father as a single event complex. The author’s exploitation of irony where unfaith sees Jesus lifted up on the cross and faith sees him lifted up to God in exaltation gives support to the suggestion that the author envisages an ascent to the Father from the cross.150 Such proposals fail, however, to take seriously what may seem as the rather awkward tradition according to which Jesus was entombed and rose on the third day, on which he then ascended, returning to the Father, exalted, and glorified with the glory which he had with 147

So Harold W. Attridge, “Hebrews, Temple, tabernacle, time, and space in John and Hebrews,” Early Christianity 1 (2010): 261–74, in particular, in relation to 9:23–28 (pp. 270–73); similarly Barnard, Mysticism, based on her literal understanding of 9:23 (pp. 106, 113); Rissi, Theologie, 80–81; Moffitt, Atonement, who emphasises the apocalyptic background of the author’s thought (p. 312). 148 Gäbel, Kulttheologie, 127. 149 Cf. Similarly Braun, Hebräer, who writes: “Seit wann Jesus Hoherpriester ist – vor der Menschwerdung, seit dem Kreuz, seit dem Eintritt in das himmlische Heiligtum –, bleibt in Hb ambivalent. […] So gibt es eigentlich zwei Stätten seiner Tätigkeit: Er bringt, Sünden sühnend, das einmalige Selbstopfer am Kreuz auf Erden, das wiederholte ਚʌĮȟ; und er vollzieht, den Tod entmachtend, den Durchbruch ins himmlische Heiligtum und fungiert dort als Hoherpriester, in Analogie zum Versöhnungstage Lv 16, wobei in 8,16 die explizite himmlische șȣı઀Į gerade noch vermieden wird” (p. 72); Feld, Hebräerbrief, 83–84. See Moffitt, “Role of Jesus,” who writes: “I simply do not agree, as Moret does, with Attridge’s conclusion that ‘Christ’s sacrificial death is not an act distinct from his entry into God’s presence’” (p. 312). 150 So Feld, Hebräerbrief, who writes: “Doch sieht der Auctor ad Hebraeos ähnlich wie der Evangelist Joh die Erhöhung Jesu am Kreuz und die Erhöhung zur Herrlichkeit des Vaters als einen einzigen Vorgang” (p. 77). Cf. Moffitt, Atonement, who rejects Hofius, who says that Jesus ascends in spirit to God and then joins his body (p. 19). Cf. Otfried Hofius, Katapausis. Die Vorstellung vom endzeitlichen Ruheport im Hebräerbrief, WUNT 11 (Tübingen; Mohr Siebeck, 1970), 181.

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the Father before the world began. While it is true that the author views the event of Jesus’ death, resurrection, exaltation, glorification, ascension and return to the Father as a complex event, he does not thereby deny the resurrection tradition, nor that there is a sequence of events in terms of both time and space.151 Proposals that see in Hebrews an ascent into the heavenly temple on the part of Jesus from the cross must similarly face the question: what then of the resurrection? Hebrews has no resurrection narrative. 13:20 may allude to resurrection, but is it really likely that the author would have dispensed with it, let alone done so in order to fit in with his construction of an Atonement Day typology? It is much more likely that he assumes resurrection, even though not referring to it directly. It is simply the presupposition of what was much more important. In this sense Moffitt is surely right that the author assumes resurrection 152 and this should be understood as the kind of transformed spiritual embodiment attested elsewhere.

Soteriological Models in Hebrews One of the reasons why reconstructing the author’s soteriological models is difficult is that the language used may have a range of meaning, in particular, denoting both cause and effect. This is so with a number of terms used within early Christian tradition, such as redemption and reconciliation, but of particular relevance for Hebrews: purification. The process of rationalisation of defeat or apparent failure, as in the execution of Jesus, went beyond simply seeing in the event something which symbolised the degree of commitment to his goal, indeed represented it in stark reality, thus as shocking, impressive and influential. It had an impact on followers. That impact, along with further rationalising reflection in coming to terms with what had happened, generated explanations which saw that death as also having an impact on God. Jesus’ death could be seen as an achievement vicariously on behalf of others, which in some sense influenced God to act differently. It need not be understood as appeasing the wrath of a deity, though propitiation was certainly one of the options in play. It might include some form of moral accounting which saw Christ’s innocent death as making up for what others might deserve, a kind of

151

On Johannine understandings of Jesus’ death as a complex event but which includes resurrection, exaltation, glorification and ascension, see Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 254–66. 152 Moffitt, Atonement, notes that some kind of resurrection is assumed also in 6:2 and 11:35 (p. 39) and against Attridge argues that the word ਕȞĮȖĮȖȫȞ in 13:20 may be taken as an allusion to the resurrection (p. 38). Cf. Attridge, Hebrews, 406.

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substitutionary notion on behalf of others, or even as paying the demand for a ransom to free others from what otherwise would be their fate or debt. Thus there developed a diversity of models to depict what was believed to have caused a change in response from God, but there was at least some consistency in understanding or giving expression to the effect or outcome, always to do with sin, sometimes as simple as forgiveness of sins, sometimes as a restoration of relationship with God, reconciliation. Inevitably the underlying notion that Christ’s death effected change in God also led to employment of cultic imagery to explain that change. One could argue that the notion that God would not change without some achievement, action or transaction is already cultic in the broad sense. But specifically cultic imagery also became a vehicle not least because of the widespread acceptance of cultic presuppositions not only within Jewish religious culture but also in the wider world of the time. Within the framework of cultic thought one might have notions of appeasement of deity, but one also had a broader sense of being able to expiate or remove the offensive, whether moral or ritual/ceremonial, through divinely mandated processes. These processes usually included sacrifice, but not always, such as in lustration rites which then inspire notions of renewal and cleansing from sin and ritual amoral contaminants through sprinkling or immersion in water. There were diverse rites of purification to which also belonged a sacrifice or death, where the power to achieve cleansing or purification was borne especially in the blood, in some sense representing the release of life for the benefit of the sacrificer. Purification was less a matter of sanitation or hygiene, though it might apply in any place and render a person clean so that they might not contaminate others, such as in cleansing after emissions, male or female, or after childbirth. Basically however the issue was related to access to holy space. The purification removed what might disqualify a person from access to the holy. Holiness was a category which required that all relevant people and objects be in a state of purity. When notions of cultic purity were applied to attempts to depict the impact of Jesus’ death, there was inevitably a process of adaptation, because the death itself was always seen as what effected the change ultimately in God, however that was conceptualised. It was the primary cause. This meant that by analogy the death carried more weight from the beginning than was often the case in rituals of sacrifice in the cultic sphere. Employing cultic imagery did however offer a rich array of possibilities for expressing the effect which the cause produced on people. The language of purification is primarily at home in the discourse of describing those effects, whether the purification of people or places and objects. The preference of the author of Hebrews to use the language of effect has the potential to cause confusion unless we recognise the starting point he shares with what had been the fundamental approach of the emerging Christian movement. The death is the event which is the cause of change. The effects can

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be described using, among other things, the language of purification. Because of that connection with Christ’s death as the fundamental cause of change and not simply as a preparatory cultic act, blood now represents that death but also the life and cleansing which that death effected in the divine order. Thus the Gewichtsverlagerung, which Eberhart rightly identifies in Hebrews’ use of Atonement Day typology, 153 was already fundamental to the way early Christianity employed cultic imagery. To some extent this also coheres with a change in the way the effect, purification, was understood. Purification was usually applied through water or blood as the occasion and need demanded it. It was in that sense situational. Purification in relation to Christ’s death was situational to the extent that it was to be appropriated by faith by each believer, but it was not that at each moment of coming to faith a new action of sprinkling or cleansing took place, in analogy to the cult, but that the gift it symbolised was being appropriated. In relation to Hebrews’ employment of cultic metaphor in which, in part following a trend in Judaism to homogenise understandings of the import of rites, a phenomenon even more so the case with their metaphorical use in the Christian movement, the author still clearly sees the death as the cause, but plays with the element of effect, namely the blood, though with great restraint, to depict the causal influence on God, following the Atonement Day model. He avoids the notion of that as a transaction by suppressing analogous reference to sprinkling, because the effective action or transaction took place in the death itself, unlike in the analogy. Nevertheless it is a daring exploitation of the model to express in yet another way how the action of Christ’s death influenced, so to speak, God. If we return to the beginning of Hebrews, the question must be raised what the author envisaged in speaking of “having made purification for sins” (țĮșĮȡȚıȝઁȞ IJ૵Ȟ ਖȝĮȡIJȚ૵Ȟ ʌȠȚȘı੺ȝİȞȠȢ, 1:3). Given the author’s tradition, the more likely meaning is that this is a reference to Christ’s death, namely the cause, rather than to an act expressing its effect, such as the sprinkling of blood before God. Making purification can indicate cause or effect, including rituals of applying the purificatory agent. While certainty may not be possible at this point, I consider it more likely that in line with the traditional sequence of referring to Christ’s death and his exaltation to God’s right hand, the reference here is to the death itself. It certainly signals the cultic discourse to come and already implies a cultic image of Jesus performing a priestly act and so in that sense already introduces priestly and, given his prominence, high priestly christology.154 It also signals from the beginning that the author, while using 153

Eberhart, Kultmetaphorik, 141. So Barnard, Mysticism, who writes that the “first hint of Jesus’ priesthood comes in Heb 1:3” (p. 119). “Heb 2:17, along with 1:3 and 3:3, are examples of ‘teasers’ and the mark of an effective discourse” (p. 126) – raising expectations expounded in 5–10. According to 154

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tradition which had probably included use of Ps 110:4, understands Jesus’ death as already a high priestly act.

Behind the Christology of High Priesthood? I conclude with some brief comments about origins. The author draws upon traditions according to which Christ died and was exalted to God’s right hand expressed through Ps 110:1, employing royal messianic imagery according to which he was thereby adopted to sonship. He also draws upon wisdom related tradition through which Christ is identified as the pre-existent Son of God who was the agent of creation. Combining these two the author can change the passive of being exalted to the active of himself making the ascent and taking his seat at God’s right hand. The exaltation tradition had already been associated with the notion of Christ the exalted one as intercessor before God, understood within the context of the heavenly realm as including a council with spokespeople for and against people, a tradition already evident in Job and elsewhere and implied in Romans 8. Members of the divine council are gods, elohim, angels, but humans might also be co-opted, taken up during their lifetime and suitably transformed or after their lifetime, as in the case of Jesus.155 The context of the holy presence of God explains why angels were seen as priests and this will also be part of the background why the exalted

deSilva, “Invention,” “the author embeds a foretaste of this topic in the exordium, as is expected, speaking of the Son’s ‘having performed a purificatory rite for sins’ (țĮșĮȡȚıȝઁȞ IJ૵Ȟ ਖȝĮȡIJȚ૵Ȟ ʌȠȚȘı੺ȝİȞȠȢ), a modest rewriting of LXX Job 7:21, 'Why did you not perform a purificatory rite for my sin?' (įȚĮ IJȓ Ƞȣț ȑʌȠȚȒıȦ ... țĮșĮȡȚıȝઁȞ IJોȢ ĮȝĮȡIJȓĮȢ ȝȠȣ; notably, even the middle form of the verb is retained)” (p. 297). 155 On this see Barnard, Mysticism, who draws attention to apocalyptic ascents and transformations (p. 130) and points to the such ascents of Enoch (1 Enoch 14–16; 2 Enoch 3–37), Abraham (ApocAbr 15–32), and Levi (Test Levi 2–5; 8), especially Enoch 14:8–25 (pp. 280–81). See also Moffitt, Atonement, who cites also rabbinic traditions concerning Moses (pp. 148–62) and others including Enoch (pp. 166–78), while noting the difference that in the case of Jesus the ascent happened after death (p. 180).

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Jesus was also seen as a priest.156 Such an image of Jesus as heavenly high priest is clearly evident also in Rev 1:13.157 That the link between Ps 110:1 and Ps 110:4 had already been made in the author’s tradition I consider more probable than that the author himself made this his innovation.158 This makes better sense of the tension which now exists in his material about Jesus as high priest, where, as with sonship, we have traditions about post mortal appointment to sonship juxtaposed to understandings of Jesus which see him as already as Son on earth and in preexistence. I see a similar pattern in relation to high priesthood. I assume that the notion of Christ’s heavenly high priesthood where he exercises a ministry of intercession on behalf of his own was already associated with the hearers’ christological confession.159 One cannot be sure, but I consider this more likely

156 So Attridge, Hebrews, who also notes that angels are intercessors in 1 Enoch and similarly Test Levi (p. 99). “It is from these notions of angelic priests that the Christian tradition of Jesus as heavenly high priest is probably derived” (p. 100). While noting that Hebrews does not share the cosmic link found in Philo, nevertheless Philo also reflects the idea of heavenly intercession, not least through the Logos as the chief angel (pp. 100–101). He does not see high priestly christology in the fourth gospel (102), nor as deriving from suffering servant christology. Barnard, Mysticism, notes the possible role of Melchizedek speculation which saw him as an angel as in 11QMelch and probably Songs of Sabbath Sacrifice, and later traditions (pp. 128–29). 157 Attridge, Hebrews, 102; Barnard, Mysticism, 251; Loader, Sohn und Hoherpriester, 233–38. For the possibility that 1 Clement reflects a high priestly christology independent of and different from Hebrews see Judith L. Wentling, “An examination of the role of Jesus as High Priest at the end of the first century,” Proceedings of the Eastern Great Lakes Biblical Society 5 (1985): 136–44, who argues that differences and discrepancies between Hebrews’ and 1 Clement’s use of the high priest motif suggest “a developmentally simple High Priestly christology for 1 Clement and a more sophisticated High Priestly christology for Hebrews” (p. 141). 158 Cf. Lindars, Theology, 64–65; Lane, Hebrews, xxx.cxi–cxii; Weiss, Hebräer, 82– 83.231; Feld, Hebräerbrief, 80–81, citing Henk Jan de Jonge, “Traditie en exegese: he hogepriester-christologie en Melchizedek in Hebreeën,” NedTT 37 (1983): 1–19, 10–14. The presence of the notion of priesthood in the tradition does not imply more than the use of Ps 110:4. The elaboration of that text using Genesis 14 is the author’s innovation. On this see Kraus, “Aufnahme und Funktion von Gen 14,18–20 und Ps 109 LXX,” (see n. 36), who writes: “Die Nennung Melchisedeks geht auf unseren Autor zurück und ist keinesfalls in der Tradition verankert” (p. 464). 159 Scholer, Proleptic Priests, believes that 2:17 reflects that high priesthood was already part of the author’s tradition (p. 82); similarly März, Hebräerbrief, who sees it as used for his role as intercessor (p. 12); Kraus, “Aufnahme und Funktion von Gen 14,18–20 und Ps 109 LXX,” who writes: “Es scheint daher wahrscheinlich, dass die Vorstellung von Jesus als Hohepriester bereits zum überkommenden Bekenntnis gehörte” (p. 462), but did not include the sacrificial role; Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen, 46, considers a background in eucharistic tradition likely (p. 47). Cf. Koester, Hebrews, who sees high priesthood christology as the author’s innovation (p. 109); similarly Ellingworth, Hebrews, 184–85; and

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than that the author developed two innovations simultaneously, one related to the appointment of the heavenly high priest intercessor for help for those facing adversity and tempted to renege on their faith and one expanding the significance of Christ’s death. Adding the latter is the author’s innovation. 160 I do not see messianic high priesthood as depicted in Qumran literature as significant background because the key elements in focus there are different.161 On the other hand, Kraus’s point that Ps 110:4 had been used by the non Aaronic Hasmoneans to justify their rule may well indicate that the author and his community are in touch with traditions which envisaged royal and priestly messianic hope as to be fulfilled not by two messiahs but by a single one.162 Whereas, for instance, the images of the star arising out of Jacob and the sceptre out of Israel in Num 7:14 had been used to depict the two messiahs (CD VII, 19–20; T. Jud. 24; cf. T. Levi 18:2–3), there are other instances where both images, star and sceptre, are taken as referring to the one figure, Matthew’s birth narrative being a prime example, though there we find no particularly priestly associations within his portrayal of Jesus’ messiahship. Sensitivity about pedigree of royal and priestly messiahs may well lie behind the author’s justification of Jesus’ high priesthood in Hebrews 7. This opens up the possibility that implied in the author’s use of royal messianic christology in

Philip, Leviticus in Hebrews, who sees the intercessory role as the innovation since it goes beyond Leviticus (pp. 71, 74). 160 Attridge, Hebrews, concurs: “Hebrews exploits this tradition and develops it in a new way by focusing on the other ‘priestly’ motif of early tradition, Christ’s self-sacrifice, interpreting that act with the imagery of the Yom Kippur ritual” (p. 102); as does März, Hebräerbrief, 12. 161 Attridge, Hebrews: “Neither of the two major characteristics of Jesus as High priest, his heavenly intercessor function and his self-sacrifice, are found in connection with these eschatological priests,” referring to messianic high priesthood at Qumran and in the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs (p. 99), whose roles focus on judgement and revelation. See also his discussion in Harold W. Attridge, “How the Scrolls Impacted Scholarship on Hebrews,” in Harold W. Attridge, Essays on John and Hebrews, WUNT 264 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 331–55, 345. Similarly, Weiss, Hebräer, 233–34, who notes the broader evidence of seeing heavenly figures in priestly terms (pp. 234–36). Cf. Eric F. Mason, “You Are Priest Forever.” Second Temple Jewish Messianism and the Priestly Christology of the Epistle to the Hebrews, STDJ 74 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), who points to the heavenly role of Melchizedek and to Levi’s eternal priesthood, arguing that “Hebrews’ presentation of Jesus as priest finds its closest parallels at Qumran” (p. 203). Ellingworth, Hebrews, notes possible influence from Zech 6:11–13 read selectively (p. 187), but notes also that the reference is to a different Jesus. 162 Kraus, “Aufnahme und Funktion von Gen 14,18–20 und Ps 109 LXX,” writes: “Die Legitimation Jesu als Hohepriester nach der Ordnung Melchisedeks kann als Antwort auf ein im Judentum schon lange Zeit vorhandenes strukturelles Problem verstanden werden” (p. 474).

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1:3–8 is also a priestly component, as Barnard suggests,163 although it is not expressed. The author’s expositions of Jesus as high priest are double edged: positively, to reassure hearers of continuing support and of the certainty of what Christ achieved for them through his death, what I see as the author’s innovative expansion, and negatively, to reinforce the need for distancing from and possibly defence against the claims of the old, which is seen as both God-given and as inferior and temporary. 164 A similar empathy and distance occurs in John where the Law, God-given (1:16–17), is depicted as foreshadowing its own replacement by Christ who alone is Word, water, bread, light and life, attributes which had belonged to Torah, but never disparaged or deemed as other than divinely given even if only at the level of the flesh, not a moral category, but a level of substance that for all intents and purposes is of no profit, to cite the author’s sharpest differentiation. You do not go to such lengths if it does not matter to your hearers, because they are giving up respect for biblical authority anyway, so it is likely that as with John so with Hebrews we are dealing with a community or communities where dealing with one’s past matters for maintaining one’s continuing sense of identity and that past is related to Jewish community. The awareness of ongoing Jewish traditions related to how Jewish rites, including the Atonement Day ritual, were understood also supports such a context. Those attempts to depict the author’s exposition as simply a bookish engagement with the LXX fail at this point. Much of the author’s argument loses cogency if we are dealing with people who are faced with continuing to embrace the author’s faith along with the presuppositions about authority which inform it or abandoning both, because then arguments based on the assumption of agreed authority become irrelevant. We are therefore looking at another of the forms of Jewish Christianity grappling with its identity. The combination of asserted continuity and superiority of the new over the old must be about challenging loyalty to the old as also in John’s gospel, not in disparagement but on the basis that one gift of grace has now been replaced by the greater gift of grace which it foretold 163

Cf. Barnard, Mysticism, 131–34. Kraus, “Aufnahme und Funktion von Gen 14,18–20 und Ps 109 LXX,” rightly questions whether “soziale Ausgrenzung” is a sufficient explanation for chapters 7–10 (pp. 459–60) and whether just the desire of a mainly gentile community to establish its cult as respectable is adequate, as Karrer, Hebräer, 1. 87.100–101 suggests. The nature of the argumentation requires and so reflects a community familiar with biblical and Jewish tradition – so Kraus, “Absicht,” 252. Kraus also rejects the view of Gabriella Gelardini, “Verhärtet eure Herzen nicht.” Der Hebräer, eine Synagogenhomilie zu Tischa be-Aw, BibInt 83 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), 325, that the goal of Hebrews is not to relativise the cult, but to deal with its loss after 70 CE and questions her assumption of a three year lectionary existing in the first century, including Exod 31:18–32, 35 as Sidra and Jer 31:31–34 as Haftara for Tisha beAv (p. 262). 164

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and foreshadowed, for which it gives way. Such an argument only counts for those who share basic presuppositions about both as God’s gifts and so belong to the discourse of dispute within a context of Jewish thought and practice.

19. Ethics in Hebrews: Faith in Danger One of the most rewarding challenges of recent years has been to be invited to go back nearly half a century to where my research activity began and look self-critically at my findings in the light of research undertaken by others in the interim. Accordingly, I returned in 2017 to my work on the christology of Hebrews, Sohn und Hoherpriester,1 which I had scarcely touched since 1972. The result was my extensive article, “Revisiting High Priesthood Christology in Hebrews,” published in 2018 in ZNW.2 The invitation of the Hebrews Seminar of Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas to turn also to ethics in Hebrews in a joint session with its Ethics Seminar also made a connection with that initial field of research but more directly also to my research areas of the interim, which included beside Johannine studies and attitudes to Torah, also studies of attitudes towards sexuality in the broad sense, including gender studies. I was aware that there was a very narrow landing strip in Hebrews for sexual ethics, primarily just a single verse in 13:4, “Let marriage be held in honour by all, and let the marriage bed be kept undefiled; for God will judge fornicators and adulterers.” This paper must go far beyond that verse but will start with that landing point, or more generally with Hebrews 13, where most of the work’s ethical instructions are to be found, typical of how epistles conclude. The paper will have three sections. In the first two sections I shall look at 13:1–6 and then 13:7–17. Each section will look at both the form and the substance of what is said and then use that as a starting point for looking back on the work as a whole. I see Hebrews 13 as integral to the work, as forming the author’s peroratio,3 or as some would see it, being a significant element 1

Published in 1981 as William R. G. Loader, Sohn und Hoherpriester. Eine traditionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung zur Christologie des Hebräerbriefes, WMANT 53 (Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 1981). 2 William R. G. Loader, “Revisiting High Priesthood Christology in Hebrews,” ZNW 109 (2018): 235–83, chapter 18 in this volume. 3 As James W. Thompson, “Argument and Persuasion in the Epistle to the Hebrews,” PRSt 39 (2012): 361–77, explains, “In the common structure developed by Aristotle, Cicero, and Quintilian, the exordium and narratio precede the argumentatio (or probatio; Greek ʌȓıIJȚȢ), which is then followed by the peroratio. Thus, while the argumentatio forms the intellectual core of every speech, the other parts contribute to the persuasive task” (p. 363). Indeed, he notes that “in more recent years, the skillful arrangement of Hebrews has been the subject of numerous articles and books, indeed, more books have been written on the structure of Hebrews in the last two generations than of any other NT book” (p. 362). On the importance of being sensitive to the rhetorical skills of the author see also Jerome Neyrey,

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within it,4 but respect that others see it as an addition addressing a new situation. 5 My taking Hebrews 13 as a starting point will examine the issues with openness to both possibilities. Section three will examine wider ethical issues in Hebrews, including such matters as the status of Torah, continuity and discontinuity, ethical issues in the author’s representation and misrepresentation of tradition, and how to listen to the author’s silences.

Hebrews 13:1–6 As many have shown, these verses show the level of rhetorical finesse characteristic of the work as a whole, whether from the hands of the author or from another.6 The first two instructions in the series of imperatives begin with the wordplay ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į and ijȚȜȠȟİȞ઀Į,7 both given emphasis by being placed at the beginning. The next instructions comprise parallels: ȝȚȝȞ૊ıțİıșİ IJ૵Ȟ įİıȝ઀ȦȞ ੪Ȣ ıȣȞįİįİȝ੼ȞȠȚ IJ૵Ȟ țĮțȠȣȤȠȣȝ੼ȞȦȞ ੪Ȣ țĮ੿ Į੝IJȠ੿ ੕ȞIJİȢ ਥȞ ıઆȝĮIJȚ.

“Syncrisis and Encomium: Reading Hebrews through Greek Rhetoric,” CBQ 82 (2020): 276–99, who warns: “Rhetoric is ignored at our peril” (p. 298). See also the discussion in Gareth Lee Cockerill, The Epistle to the Hebrews, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 60–77; Martin Karrer, Der Brief an die Hebräer, 2 vols., ÖTBK 20/1–2 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus; Würzburg: Echter, 2002, 2008), 2.351. 4 Some view it as starting earlier, for instance, Craig R. Koester, Hebrews, AB 36 (New York: Doubleday, 2001), who sees it beginning at 12:28, noting that Hebrews often begins a new section with an idea cited at the end of previous one (p. 554), and Thompson, “Argument and Persuasion,” who sees it beginning at 10:32 (p. 364). 5 On the proposals to see Hebrews 13 as a later addition, see the discussion in Cockerill, Hebrews, 674, who cites A. J. M. Wedderburn, “The ‘Letter’ to the Hebrews and Its Thirteenth Chapter,” NTS 50 (2004): 390–405; and Clare K. Rothschild, Hebrews as Pseudepigraphon, WUNT 235 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009). See also Wolfgang Kraus, “Zur Schriftverwendung in Hebräer 13. Zugleich ein Beitrag zur Frage nach dem Verhältnis von Hebr 13 zu Hebr 1–12,” forthcoming. Eric F. Mason, “The Epistle (Not Necessarily) to the ‘Hebrews’: A Call to Renunciation of Judaism or Encouragement to Christian Commitment?” PRSt 37 (2010): 7–20, comments: “It seems best to understand Hebrews 13 as an authentic part of the book but functioning like the final sections of numerous Pauline epistles: as a concluding section with miscellaneous ethical exhortations. Certainly nothing here contradicts what the author has said previously; nor, however, does most of what is here specifically reflect the author’s major theological themes either” (p. 17). 6 James W. Thompson, “Insider Ethics for Outsiders: Ethics for Aliens in Hebrews,” ResQ 53 (2011): 207–19, writes: “The instructions in Heb 13:1–6 comprise a rhythmic and coherent unity” (p. 207). 7 On the word plays and careful balances in what follows, see Cockerill, Hebrews, 679– 84.

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ȉ઀ȝȚȠȢ ੒ Ȗ੺ȝȠȢ ਥȞ ʌ઼ıȚȞ țĮ੿ ਲ țȠ઀IJȘ ਕȝ઀ĮȞIJȠȢ, ʌંȡȞȠȣȢ Ȗ੹ȡ țĮ੿ ȝȠȚȤȠઃȢ țȡȚȞİ૙ ੒ șİંȢ.

The latter is neatly balanced with the contrast between ȉ઀ȝȚȠȢ at the beginning and ਕȝ઀ĮȞIJȠȢ at the end, similarly, ʌંȡȞȠȣȢ at the beginning and șİંȢ at the end. Indeed, in the end: God! Here, as in what follows, we assume an imperative: “Let … be!”8 ਝijȚȜ੺ȡȖȣȡȠȢ ੒ IJȡંʌȠȢ, ਕȡțȠ઄ȝİȞȠȚ IJȠ૙Ȣ ʌĮȡȠ૨ıȚȞ.

A bipartite word of encouragement follows citing scriptures: Į੝IJઁȢ Ȗ੹ȡ İ੅ȡȘțİȞǜ Ƞ‫ ރ‬ȝ‫ ޤ‬ıİ ܻȞࠛ Ƞ‫ރ‬į߫ Ƞ‫ ރ‬ȝ‫ ޤ‬ıİ ‫݋‬ȖțĮIJĮȜަʌȦ, 6 ੮ıIJİ șĮȡȡȠ૨ȞIJĮȢ ਲȝ઼Ȣ Ȝ੼ȖİȚȞǜ țުȡȚȠȢ ‫݋‬ȝȠ‫ ޥ‬ȕȠȘșިȢ, [țĮ‫ ]ޥ‬Ƞ‫ ރ‬ijȠȕȘș‫ޤ‬ıȠȝĮȚ, IJަ ʌȠȚ‫ޤ‬ıİȚ ȝȠȚ ܿȞșȡȦʌȠȢ;

The second citation already neatly employs a rhetorical contrast between țުȡȚȠȢ placed at the beginning and ܿȞșȡȦʌȠȢ placed at the end. One of the functions of the peroratio is to make concluding remarks which should highlight the importance of what had been argued, 9 to do so concisely,10 and to generate response from the hearers. 11 Religio-historical parallels The author is clearly at home in the rhetorical world of his context and it should not then surprise us that we find parallels to the topics here briefly addressed. As Thompson observes, Brotherly love (ijȚȜĮįİȜijȓĮ), hospitality (ijȚȜȠȟİȞȓĮ), an honorable marriage (IJȓȝȚȠȢ ȩ ȖȐȝȠȢ), and a life that is free from the love of money (ȐijȚȜĮȡȖȣȡȓĮ) in Heb 13:1-6 belong to the common storehouse of early Christian moral instruction and Greco-Roman virtues.12

In Greco-Roman literature we find ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į used in a literal sense of attitudes and behaviour towards siblings. The word itself is, as Attridge notes,

8

Cockerill, Hebrews, 682. Koester, Hebrews, 556. 10 Koester, Hebrews, 556, citing Cicero’s instructions, De inventione rhetorica 1.52. 11 Koester, Hebrews, writes that one of the functions of the peroratio is to “affect the listeners’ commitment by influencing their emotions” and to evoke sympathy for the speaker’s case (p. 555). Indeed, he intuits that the author is “implying that his integrity has been unfairly challenged (13:18–19)” (p. 555). Walter G. Übelacker, “Hebrews and the Implied Author’s Rhetorical Ethos,” in Rhetoric, Ethic, and Moral Persuasion in Biblical Discourse: Essays from the 2002 Heidelberg Conference (London: T & T Clark, 2005), 316– 34, observes “dass der Vf. seine mündliche Botschaft einwandfrei am Modell der deliberativen Rhetorik orientiert hat” (p. 235). 12 Thompson, “Insider Ethics,” 207. 9

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“relatively rare term outside of Christian literature.”13 The notion of familial solidarity is not limited to the occurrence of the word. The concept generates reflection on such solidarity means among siblings. Patrick Gray has provided an extensive discussion of the theme as set out in in Plutarch’s treatise, De fraterno amore, 478A–492D,14 concluding: Hebrews weaves together a wide range of concepts related to the role of brother in the Hellenistic world – inheritance, affection, trustworthiness, sympathy, moral uprightness, accountability guardianship – to develop the image of Jesus as high priest. This goes unnoticed if one looks for parallels to the priestly image only among Jewish or Greco-Roman religious texts and institutions.15 The sheer accumulation in the letter of motifs found also in Plutarch’s essay on brotherly love is a sign that this is no ad hoc characterization on the part of the author, nor is it merely a projection onto the divine realm of language originally applied only to lateral relations in the community.16

He notes the role of the elder brother tutoring his brothers, in that sense, his children, as 2:13,17 seeking to bridge the inequality gap with his brothers, as Jesus took on flesh and blood, 2:14, helping younger brothers become partners, as in 3:1, 14, bearing up with their weaknesses and failures, as 4:14,18 expecting them to obey him, mediating with their father when they do not do so,19 and dealing with matters of inheritance. 20 Parallels are to be found also to other topics in this short section. Hospitality was an important value. 21 The notion of being surprised by the unexpected nature of one’s guests finds a parallel in Homer Od. 6.121; 17.485 and Ovid, Metam. 8.611–724, who tells the story of Philemon and Baukis, who receive Jupiter and Mercury into their house (cf. also Acts 14:11–13). 22

13 Harold W. Attridge, The Epistle to the Hebrews, Hermeneia (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989), 385. 14 See also Aristotle Eth. Nic. 1161b30–35. 15 Patrick Gray, “Brotherly Love and the High Priest Christology of Hebrews,” JBL 122 (2003): 335–51, 350. 16 Gray, “Brotherly Love,” 338–39. 17 Gray, “Brotherly Love,” 340. 18 Gray, “Brotherly Love,” 343. 19 Gray, “Brotherly Love,” 344–45. 20 Gray, “Brotherly Love,” 349. 21 Koester, Hebrews, notes the preference for hospitality in homes rather than in inns, seen as “disreputable places where theft and prostitution were common” (p. 563). 22 On this see Herbert Braun, An die Hebräer, HNT 14 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1984), 455, who also draws attention to Plato’s warning in Soph. 216B about not recognising the divine (p. 451). See also Knut Backhaus, Der Hebräerbrief, RNT (Regensburg: Pustet, 2009), 462.

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Learning to live with what one has rather than being greedy for gain was common advice among philosophers concerned with a sense of well-being. 23 Concern with adultery was widespread, not least because adultery undermined households, which were the key to the economy and the welfare of the extended family.24 It had received attention in Augustus’ decree, Lex Iulia de maritandis ordinibus 18 B.C.E., updated in the Lex Papia Poppaea 9 C.E. 25 We find similar values expressed in Jewish literature of the time.26 In the literal, sense of love for siblings occurs also in the account of the solidarity among the brothers facing death in 4 Maccabees (13:21, 23, 26; 14:1–13, 21; 15:10, 14), and is hailed as a virtue by Philo Legat. 87 and Josephus A.J. 4.26, though Philo can use it also in a wider sense (Virt. 80; QG. 4.200). 27 In Jewish literature sibling solidarity also served as an image for communal solidarity with fellow-Jews, of particular relevance for diaspora communities where such communities would be a minority and open to potential abuse.28 Like the command to love one another, emphasised so strongly in the Johannine tradition, ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į in this broader sense goes far beyond what in the modern world can be reduced to niceties or mutual kindness. It would also have had dimensions of caring for one another when poverty struck. Thus, the author of 1 John could write: “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?” (3:17).29 ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į implied mutual support for communities whose marginal 23 So Democritus FVS 1.440; Xenophon Symp. 4:42; Epictetus Diatr. 1.1.27; Marcus Aurelius Med. 10:1; Plutarch Cupid. divit. 1 ii 523d; Cohib. ira 1 ii.453a and see the discussion in Attridge, Hebrews, 388; Koester, Hebrews, 559; Cockerill, Hebrews, 686; Braun, Hebräer, 455; Thompson, “Insider Ethics,” 216. 24 On the linking of concerns about sex and greed, see Attridge, Hebrews, 387–88, who cites Cicero Off. 1.7.24; Epictetus Diatr. 3.7.21; Lucian Nigr. 15–16; Longinus Subl. 44. 25 See the discussion in William R. G. Loader, The New Testament on Sexuality (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 103–104. 26 Thompson, “Insider Ethics,” notes that “in the interpretations of the Torah among diaspora Jews, love for the fellow-Israelite is a major theme. Tobit encourages his son, ‘Love your kindred’ (4:13, ਕȖȐʌĮ IJȠઃȢ ਕįİȜijȠȪȢ ıȠȣ)” (p. 215). He points also to its emphasis in the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs (T. Iss. 5:2; T. Gad 4:2; 6:1; T. Benj. 3:4), as “the equivalent of the command to love one another (T. Sim. 2:4; T. Gad 6:1, 3)” (p. 215). “Although diaspora writers rarely excluded outsiders from the love command (Lev 19:18), they clearly indicated that love extends to the fellow Israelite and the stranger in their midst” (p. 215). 27 So Braun, Hebräer, 449. 28 Thompson, “Insider Ethics,” observes: “Conversion to Judaism brought severe consequences, transforming insiders into outsiders and causing the painful abandonment by the extended family and abuse directed at the convert” (p. 210). 29 On this see William R. G. Loader, “What Happened to ‘Good News for the Poor’ in the Johannine Tradition?” in John, Jesus, and History; Vol. 3, Glimpses of Jesus through the Johannine Lens, ECL 18, ed. Paul N. Anderson, Felix Just, and Tom Thatcher (Atlanta: SBL, 2016), 469–80, chapter 12 in this volume.

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status might include such need. In such contexts hospitality towards fellow Jews would have been something more than a general cultural value to be espoused. Issues such as protecting the household from the potentially devastating effects of adultery would be all the more important for such communities.30 Learning to live with limited possessions would be more than a philosophy of well-being (so Prov 20:16; Sir 29:23; Ps.-Phoc. 6; Philo Leg. 3.165).31 It would be existential, a matter of survival, and to such groups the biblical reassurance of not being abandoned by God and finding one’s help in God (13:5–6) would make faith a foundation for facing danger and hardship. Looking at 13:1–6 The instructions in 13:1–6 similarly address a setting where such diaspora concerns are evident. Accordingly, Thompson entitles his essay on ethics in Hebrews, “Insider Ethics for Outsiders” and observes, “the author follows the pattern already established in Jewish diaspora communities for maintaining cohesion in a hostile climate.”32 “The marginalization of the community is analogous to the experience of others who lived outside the dominant culture. Jewish communities of the diaspora faced a similar marginalization.”33 The solidarity of ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į now applies to fellow members of the Christfollowers (ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į: Rom 12:10; 1 Thess 4:9; 1 Pet 1:22; 2 Pet 1:7; 1 Clem 1:2; ijȚȜ੺įİȜijȠȚ: 1 Pet 3:8). Fictive family imagery abounds in the writings of their movement, as they hail God as father, acclaim themselves God’s sons and daughters (e.g., Gal 3:26; 4:6–7; Rom 8:14–17; John 1:12), and Christ as the firstborn son, the elder brother (Rom 8:29; Col 1:15, 18; Heb 1:5; Rev 1:5).34 That ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į would similarly include helping each other survive where hardship sometimes meant poverty (1 John 3:17). Hospitality would apply just as in marginalised diaspora communities (Rom 12:10–13; Acts 28:7; 1 Tim 3:2; 5:10; Tit 1:8; 1 Pet 4:9; Matt 25:35, also, as in our passage, alongside the visiting of prisoners), but possibly also with reference to travelling preachers and teachers (Matt 10:40–41; 2 Cor 7:15; sometimes problematic as in 2 John 10; 3 John 10; Didache 11–13). In his

30

See my discussion in William R. G. Loader, Making Sense of Sex: Attitudes towards Sexuality in Early Jewish and Christian Literature (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013), 62–74. 31 So Attridge, Hebrews, 388; Braun, Hebräer, 454. 32 Thompson, “Insider Ethics,” 208. 33 Thompson, “Insider Ethics,” 210. 34 On this, see Thompson, “Insider Ethics,” 338. As Gray, “Brotherly Love,” notes that the reference to “children” in the citation of Isa 8:18 in 2:13 is not to suggest that they are the Son’s children but rather that they are siblings entrusted to his caring role, such as when speaking of an elder brother tutoring–his younger siblings (p. 340).

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allusion to the biblical stories of such unwitting hospitality,35 I suggest that the author perhaps means to play linguistically with the motif of messengers (ਕȖȖ੼ȜȠȣȢ). Adultery and sexual wrongdoing would be a threat to the stability of this community, especially given its situation. As Thompson notes, “The transition from expressions of ijȚȜĮįİȜijȓĮ to marriage is not a turn from communal to private morality, but the expression of the cohesion of the holy community.” 36 Koester suggests a possible link between the practice of hospitality and having a partner in prison, on the one hand, and the temptation to adultery and sexual wrongdoing on the other. 37 Sexual wrongdoing was a major theme in both early Jewish and early Christ communities.38 Reuben’s sleeping with his father’s slave, Bilhah, so defiling his father’s bed (Gen 35:22; 49:4) features in such warnings (Jub. 33:2–8; T. Reu. passim).39 Martin Karrer reads the author’s words as affirming marriage without the normal restrictions which limited marriage to one’s race or community (but note Esau’s sin in 12:16) and affirming sexual intercourse (represented by țȠ઀IJȘ) as not something unholy or defiling, as widely assumed within common purity systems of the day. 40 The sequence from adultery and sexual wrongdoing to greed follows the sequence in the decalogue in Exodus 20:13–14 LXX, 41 a sequence reflected also, for instance, in 1 Thess 4:1–6. As Thompson notes, “The transition from sexual conduct to the life that is free from the love of money (ȐijȚȜȐȡȖȣȡȠȢ ȩ 35 Note the stories of Abraham (Gen 18:1–15), Lot (Gen 19:1–14), Gideon (Judg 6:11– 21), Manoah (13:3–23), and Tobit (Tob 12). On the prominence of Abraham as a model see Thompson, “Insider Ethics,” with particular reference to the Testament of Abraham (Recension A). “In the Testament of Abraham (recension A), the patriarch is remembered for his ijȚȜȠȟİȞȓĮ and his ĮȖȐʌȘ (17.6). The archangel Michael declares that he has seen no one like Abraham: one who is ‘merciful, hospitable (ijȚȜȩȟİȞȠȞ), just, true, and reverent, refraining from every kind of evil’ (4.25; cf. 1.4, 9)” (p. 215). 36 Thompson, “Insider Ethics,” 216. 37 Koester, Hebrews, 565. 38 Loader, New Testament on Sexuality, 3–33, 109–239; Loader, Making Sense of Sex. 39 William R. G. Loader, Enoch, Levi, and Jubilees on Sexuality: Attitudes Towards Sexuality in the Early Enoch Literature, the Aramaic Levi Document, and the Book of Jubilees (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007), 196–20; William R. G. Loader, Philo, Josephus, and the Testaments on Sexuality: Attitudes towards Sexuality in the Writings of Philo. Josephus, and the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011), 371–79. 40 Karrer, Hebräer, 2.359–62. Luke Timothy Johnson, Hebrews (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2006), speculates that the author’s silence about the kinds of sexual wrongdoing which Paul addresses in 1 Corinthians is probably indicates that they are not present in the addressees’ communities (p. 342); cf. Cockerill, Hebrews, 683. Perhaps the author is doing no more than condemning both adultery and sexual wrongdoing more generally. 41 William R. G. Loader, The Septuagint, Sexuality, and the New Testament: Case Studies on the Impact of the LXX in Philo and the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 5–11.

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IJȡȩʌȠȢ) suggests the close connection of these vices in early Christian paraenesis (cf. 1 Cor 5:1–6:11; Eph 5:3–5; Col 3:5).”42 Similarly, as in diaspora settings noted above, the appeal to the hearers to be satisfied with what they have goes beyond being a strategy for maintaining a sense of well-being.43 At this point it appears that author goes beyond typical diaspora ethics to address the existential danger of a particular situation. In part this existential danger is probably evident in the second citation in 13:6 which concludes with the words: IJަ ʌȠȚ‫ޤ‬ıİȚ ȝȠȚ ܿȞșȡȦʌȠȢ; “What can man (a human being, people) do to me?”, citing Ps 117:6 LXX. This gains support from the reference to imprisonment which I have not addressed thus far. Some members of this community are in prison. ȝȚȝȞ૊ıțİıșİ IJ૵Ȟ įİıȝ઀ȦȞ ੪Ȣ ıȣȞįİįİȝ੼ȞȠȚ IJ૵Ȟ țĮțȠȣȤȠȣȝ੼ȞȦȞ ੪Ȣ țĮ੿ Į੝IJȠ੿ ੕ȞIJİȢ ਥȞ ıઆȝĮIJȚ. Remember those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them; those who are being tortured, as though you yourselves were being tortured. (13:3)

We are a long way, therefore, from simply having a set of rules for living in 13:1–6, typical of Hellenistic life-skills philosophy set out with rhetorical flourish, and also from the generalised dangers of being a minority community in the diaspora. Rather, the author employs his rhetorical skills to address what appears to be real situation of potential danger. “The care of prisoners (13:3),” Thompson notes, “has no parallel in the moral instruction of the NT, Jewish, or Greek traditions of moral instruction.” 44 There is a parallel in Matthew’s depiction of the last judgement where the Son of Man speaks of visiting those in prison in his address to the sheep on this right hand: I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me. (Matt 25:35–36)

Thus, ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į has to be more than a generalising principle for community behaviour. It has existential ramifications for a community facing potential danger. Potential suffering hangs over these instructions like a dark cloud. The challenge not to shrink from such danger returns in the next section of Hebrews 13 with the call to follow Christ out to the place of suffering.

42

Thompson, “Insider Ethics,” 216. On attitudes towards money, see Attridge, Hebrews, who cites Luke 3:14; 1 Tim 6:8; and 1 Clem 2:1 (p. 388) and Braun, Hebräer, citing 1 Tim 3:3; 6:10; Did 3:5 (p. 454). 44 Thompson, “Insider Ethics,” 207, who notes that it becomes a common theme in the second century (p. 215). William L. Lane, Hebrews, 2 vols., WBC 47 (Dallas: Word, 1991), cites Lucian of Samosata, Peregrinus 16, who notes the unusual practice of Christians expressing brotherly love beyond the family, including caring for members in prison (p. 510); similarly, Koester, Hebrews, 564. 43

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The final words, “Pray for us; we are sure that we have a clear conscience, desiring to act honourably in all things” (13:18) may belong here. Timothy’s release from prison (13:23) also reflects current potential danger. Hebrews 13:1–6 within the Context of Hebrews In what follows I shall look back at the writing as a whole in the light of the concerns of Hebrews 13:1–6. I assume that it makes sense to do so in the light of the fact that we may expect the peroratio to allude to main concerns of the argument. For those who see Hebrews 13 as a later addition it is equally relevant for it explores how Hebrews 1–12 would be reprised in 13:1–6. Reading 10:19–12:29 in the Light of 13:1–6 We begin with the notion of danger which forms the context of 13:1–6. To what extent does the existential situation assumed in these verses match the situations assumed in the preceding chapters, especially from 10:19 on where the author first spells out the implications of his exposition of the confession? In 10:32–34 the author reminds the hearers of dangers past. ਝȞĮȝȚȝȞ૊ıțİıșİ į੻ IJ੹Ȣ ʌȡંIJİȡȠȞ ਲȝ੼ȡĮȢ, ਥȞ ĮੈȢ ijȦIJȚıș੼ȞIJİȢ ʌȠȜȜ੽Ȟ ਙșȜȘıȚȞ ਫ਼ʌİȝİ઀ȞĮIJİ ʌĮșȘȝ੺IJȦȞ, IJȠ૨IJȠ ȝ੻Ȟ ੑȞİȚįȚıȝȠ૙Ȣ IJİ țĮ੿ șȜ઀ȥİıȚȞ șİĮIJȡȚȗંȝİȞȠȚ, IJȠ૨IJȠ į੻ țȠȚȞȦȞȠ੿ IJ૵Ȟ Ƞ੢IJȦȢ ਕȞĮıIJȡİijȠȝ੼ȞȦȞ ȖİȞȘș੼ȞIJİȢ. But recall those earlier days when, after you had been enlightened, you endured a hard struggle with sufferings, sometimes being publicly exposed to abuse and persecution, and sometimes being partners with those so treated (10:32–33).

The reminder of a past period of acute suffering by members of the community is not idle reminiscence. It serves to bolster the author’s appeal for how they should respond in the present. They might again face such danger. The following comment indeed matches the advice in 13:3, 5–6. țĮ੿ Ȗ੹ȡ IJȠ૙Ȣ įİıȝ઀ȠȚȢ ıȣȞİʌĮș੾ıĮIJİ țĮ੿ IJ੽Ȟ ਖȡʌĮȖ੽Ȟ IJ૵Ȟ ਫ਼ʌĮȡȤંȞIJȦȞ ਫ਼ȝ૵Ȟ ȝİIJ੹ ȤĮȡ઼Ȣ ʌȡȠıİį੼ȟĮıșİ ȖȚȞઆıțȠȞIJİȢ ਩ȤİȚȞ ਦĮȣIJȠઃȢ țȡİ઀IJIJȠȞĮ ੢ʌĮȡȟȚȞ țĮ੿ ȝ੼ȞȠȣıĮȞ. For you had compassion for those who were in prison, and you cheerfully accepted the plundering of your possessions, knowing that you yourselves possessed something better and more lasting. (10:34)

Again, they are to remember those in prison. The plundering of possessions finds an echo in the instruction to be satisfied with what they have, trusting in God, and not fearing what human beings might do to them, not least, state authorities who could imprison. This section of Hebrews began with confidence ʌĮȡȡȘı઀ĮȞ 10:19 and returns to it forming an inclusio in 10:35. Ȃ੽ ਕʌȠȕ੺ȜȘIJİ Ƞ੣Ȟ IJ੽Ȟ ʌĮȡȡȘı઀ĮȞ ਫ਼ȝ૵Ȟ, ਸ਼IJȚȢ ਩ȤİȚ ȝİȖ੺ȜȘȞ ȝȚıșĮʌȠįȠı઀ĮȞ. Do not, therefore, abandon that confidence of yours; it brings a great reward.

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The author then reinforces his exhortation by elaborating on that reward which awaits them at the day of Christ’s return, which in 10:25 he had depicted as approaching. The exhortation to faith includes both the eschatological expectation and the nature of that expectation informed by the author’s merging of apocalyptic and popular platonic thought.45 It goes on to cite a selection of biblical heroes reframed as all, despite facing danger, pursuing the same goal, depicted earlier in the author’s application of Psalm 95 as Sabbath rest, and here as the heavenly city, and reaching it only after Christ opened the way. The examples of faith in Hebrews 11 focus on both belief in what one could not see, particularly the heavenly city and place of rest, to which Christ has created access by his sacrifice, and the courage and consistency to live in the light of it.46 It is not surprising, given the author’s concern to address the situation of the listeners in facing the prospect of suffering, that the author highlights that these heroes of faith also held to their faith despite suffering, especially in 11:25–37, not insignificant in its placement at the climax of the list and so emphasised. 47 Jesus is the ultimate example, to whom according to 12:1–2 the listeners are to look, who not only pioneered the way and made it possible for others to 45 Scott D. Mackie, Eschatology and Exhortation in the Epistle to the Hebrews, WUNT 2.223 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), writes of the author and his listeners seeing themselves as “perched on the edge of the eschaton” (p. 152). Backhaus, Hebräerbrief, observes: “Das Christus-Bekenntnis gewinnt durch seinen transzendent-präsentischen und futurischen Bezug eine neue existenzielle Bedeutsamkeit; das physische Diesseits gewinnt theologische Würde; das Jenseits wird geerdet und als Zukunft relevant; die Zukunft wird zur Gegenwartsmacht” (p. 56). See also Wolfgang Kraus, “Zur Aufnahme von Ps 102 (101 LXX) und seiner Bedeutung für die Eschatologie des Hebräerbriefs,” in Theologie und Textgeschichte. Septuaginta und Masoretischer Text als Äußerungen theologischer Reflexion, ed. Frank Ueberschaer, Thomas Wagner, und Jonathan Miles Robker, WUNT 407 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2018), 239–58, 255; David M. Moffitt, “Perseverance, Purity, and Identity. Exploring Hebrews’ Eschatological Worldview, Ethics, and In-Group Bias,” in Sensitivity towards Outsiders, Exploring the Dynamic Relationship between Mission and Ethics in the New Testament and Early Christianity, ed. Jacobus Kok, Tobias Nicklas, Dieter T. Roth, and Christopher M. Hays, WUNT 2.364 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014), 357–81, who sees a parallel to eschatological expectation in the sectarian community at Qumran (pp. 259, 366–67, 371). 46 On the christological grounding of the author’s understanding of faith, see Thomas Söding, “Zuversicht und Geduld im Schauen auf Jesus. Zum Glaubensbegriff des Hebräerbriefes,” ZNW 82 (1991): 214–41. It is not to be reduced to an individual virtue centred on self-fulfilment (p. 234). See also Victor Rhee, “Christology and the Concept of Faith in Hebrews 1:1–2:4,” BSac 157 (2000): 174–89, 175, 189. 47 Knut Backhaus, “Auf Ehre und Gewissen! Die Ethik des Hebräerbriefs,” in Der sprechende Gott, Gesammelte Studien zum Hebräerbrief, WUNT 240 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), 215–37, notes that faith heroes, as also Jesus in 12:1–3, are models primarily of perseverance not ethics (pp. 220–21).

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reach the goal but also, himself, was exposed to suffering and shame before finally being enthroned at God’s right hand. ȉȠȚȖĮȡȠ૨Ȟ țĮ੿ ਲȝİ૙Ȣ IJȠıȠ૨IJȠȞ ਩ȤȠȞIJİȢ ʌİȡȚțİ઀ȝİȞȠȞ ਲȝ૙Ȟ Ȟ੼ijȠȢ ȝĮȡIJ઄ȡȦȞ, ੕ȖțȠȞ ਕʌȠș੼ȝİȞȠȚ ʌ੺ȞIJĮ țĮ੿ IJ੽Ȟ İ੝ʌİȡ઀ıIJĮIJȠȞ ਖȝĮȡIJ઀ĮȞ, įȚૅ ਫ਼ʌȠȝȠȞોȢ IJȡ੼ȤȦȝİȞ IJઁȞ ʌȡȠțİ઀ȝİȞȠȞ ਲȝ૙Ȟ ਕȖ૵ȞĮ 2 ਕijȠȡ૵ȞIJİȢ İੁȢ IJઁȞ IJોȢ ʌ઀ıIJİȦȢ ਕȡȤȘȖઁȞ țĮ੿ IJİȜİȚȦIJ੽Ȟ ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȟ, ੔Ȣ ਕȞIJ੿ IJોȢ ʌȡȠțİȚȝ੼ȞȘȢ Į੝IJ૶ ȤĮȡ઼Ȣ ਫ਼ʌ੼ȝİȚȞİȞ ıIJĮȣȡઁȞ ĮੁıȤ઄ȞȘȢ țĮIJĮijȡȠȞ੾ıĮȢ ਥȞ įİȟȚઽ IJİ IJȠ૨ șȡંȞȠȣ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨ țİț੺șȚțİȞ. Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, 2looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. (12:2)

Within this statement which recaps much of the author’s argument, the focus is suffering and shame, because that is what threatens the listeners. They are to follow Jesus in setting aside the fear of shame which was inherent as a social norm.48 Danger is the context for this exhortation. Jesus’ courage and his attitude towards the norms of shame in the light of the joy of heavenly honour are to be emulated and more than that: he was not only the one who pioneered the way for them, but also the one who as high priest prays for them at God’s right hand. Accordingly, the author proceeds to address the issue of suffering, beginning with another reference to the ਕȞIJȚȜȠȖ઀ĮȞ to which Christ was exposed and continuing with a twofold strategy. Firstly, he points out that none of them has yet been killed (12:4) – as if to shame them into the realisation that they should not complain too much about their sufferings if they think about Christ’s. Then, secondly, he employs a rationale for suffering, mounting the case that God uses suffering, as then a father would use suffering in disciplining children, employing a quotation from Proverbs for reinforcement (3:11–12), and concluding that they should lift their “drooping hands” and activate their “weak knees”, effectively, stop being anxious and move on (12:13).49 48 On this see especially David Arthur deSilva, Despising Shame: Honor Discourse and Community Maintenance in the Epistle to the Hebrews, SBLDS 152 (Atlanta: Scholars, 1996), who argues that “the author seeks to restore the addressees’ detachment from society’s pressure,” to stimulate solidarity, and to seek honour on a different basis (p. 315). He notes that “both Stoic philosopher and Jewish martyr place no value on the honors or insults offered by the outsiders who speak for the dominant culture” but develop their own counter-definitions of the honourable, as does the author of Hebrews (p. 319). See also the discussion in Backhaus, “Ethik,” 234–36. 49 On the ancient concept of paideia, see the discussion in Wolfgang Kraus, “‘Wen der Herr liebhat, den züchtigt er’ (Prov 3,11f; Hebr 12,5f). Hebr 12,4–11 auf dem Hintergrund antiker Paideia-Vorstellung,” in Ahavah - die Liebe Gottes im Alten Testament, ed. Manfred Oeming (Leipzig: Evangelischer Verlagsanstalt, 2018), 425–43, 434–35. He points to Plutarch De sera numinis vindicta; Philo Det. 144–146; Praem. 119; Legat. 196; Seneca De

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The issue of potential suffering underlies the author’s exhortations from 10:19 onwards, the point at which he moves from argument and exposition to concluding summary exhortation. While the exhortation in 12:14, Ǽੁȡ੾ȞȘȞ įȚઆțİIJİ ȝİIJ੹ ʌ੺ȞIJȦȞ, “pursue peace with everyone” (cf. 13:18!), appears to introduce a change of theme from the danger of suffering, on closer reading it continues those concerns, indeed, stating what would appear in 13:1–6 . As Thompson notes, “The specific behavior required of the community of outsiders in 13:1–6 is anticipated in the imperatives that begin in 12:14.”50 This depiction of communal solidarity anticipates the injunctions in 13:1–6, suggesting the relationship between the five commands. ĭȚȜĮįİȜijȓĮ, the heading for the commands, is the expression of the family identity established throughout the homily. 51

The reference to pursuing also “holiness without which no one will see the Lord” IJઁȞ ਖȖȚĮıȝંȞ, Ƞ੤ ȤȦȡ੿Ȣ Ƞ੝įİ੿Ȣ ੕ȥİIJĮȚ IJઁȞ ț઄ȡȚȠȞ, followed by reference to defilement through a root of bitterness and to Esau as ʌંȡȞȠȢ ਲ਼ ȕ੼ȕȘȜȠȢ “an immoral and godless person”, foreshadows the warning about adultery and sexual wrongdoing in 13:4 (ȉ઀ȝȚȠȢ ੒ Ȗ੺ȝȠȢ ਥȞ ʌ઼ıȚȞ țĮ੿ ਲ țȠ઀IJȘ ਕȝ઀ĮȞIJȠȢ, Ȗ੹ȡ țĮ੿ ȝȠȚȤȠઃȢ țȡȚȞİ૙ ੒ șİંȢ), which rather than being unrelated to the context of suffering may well highlight a concomitant danger. The author shares the view that Esau’s marriage to non-Israelite women was sexual wrongdoing (Jub. 25:1; Philo QG 4.241, 245; cf. Gen 26:34–35; 27:46). 52 The common element with 13:3 would be at sexual intercourse with a forbidden woman as defiling, perhaps including marriage outside the new faith family as 2 Cor 6:14. Clearly the ethical import of the author’s response to the potential prospect of suffering which confronts the listeners, probably both through deprivation/poverty and through attacks by authorities, is to exhort them to be willing to endure the shame of suffering, not embracing the fear of shame but, like Jesus, despising it, and to hold fast to what they believed about Jesus, what he had done and does, and the reality of a world unseen into which they would enter because of Christ’s work, and try not to offend the authorities. Faith, in that sense, is the primary response to the situation of danger.

Providentia 1.6; 4.7, 11–12; Epictetus Diatr. 3.22.56; Dio Chrysostom Oratio 4.31, but notes also widespread critique: Euripides, frag. 952; Quintilian Inst. 1.3.14–17; Plutarch De liberis educandis 8F–9A. The primary background for Hebrews, he notes, is reflection on theodicy especially in wisdom literature and Hellenistic Judaism. He cites Deut 8:5; 11:2; 2 Sam 7:14; Jer 20:30; 31:18 as foundational, and 2 Macc 6:12–16 (cf. 7:33) in particular. See also HansFriedrich Weiss, Der Brief an die Hebräer, KEK 13 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1991), 644–45. 50 Thompson, “Insider Ethics,” 213. 51 Thompson, “Insider Ethics,” 214. 52 Loader, Enoch, Levi, and Jubilees, 162–63; Loader, Philo, Josephus, and the Testaments, 161–62, 196.

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It was also to be faith in a corporate context of mutual solidarity and support. The exhortation in 10:24–25 belongs here. țĮ੿ țĮIJĮȞȠ૵ȝİȞ ਕȜȜ੾ȜȠȣȢ İੁȢ ʌĮȡȠȟȣıȝઁȞ ਕȖ੺ʌȘȢ țĮ੿ țĮȜ૵Ȟ ਩ȡȖȦȞ, 2ȝ੽ ਥȖțĮIJĮȜİ઀ʌȠȞIJİȢ IJ੽Ȟ ਥʌȚıȣȞĮȖȦȖ੽Ȟ ਦĮȣIJ૵Ȟ, țĮșઅȢ ਩șȠȢ IJȚı઀Ȟ, ਕȜȜ੹ ʌĮȡĮțĮȜȠ૨ȞIJİȢ, țĮ੿ IJȠıȠ઄IJ૳ ȝ઼ȜȜȠȞ ੖ı૳ ȕȜ੼ʌİIJİ ਥȖȖ઀ȗȠȣıĮȞ IJ੽Ȟ ਲȝ੼ȡĮȞ. And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, 25 not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

“Love and good deeds” are about ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į and meeting together, an essential expression of mutual support and encouragement. The context of ethics in Hebrews as suggested in the discussion of 13:1–6, as reflecting prospect of being in serious danger, is matched by the concerns which our brief review of 10:19–12:29 has shown underly these chapters. The listeners are not only waiting for the eschaton, hoping for the heavenly world, but doing so in face of the prospect of suffering, primarily from state authorities. It is that prospect of danger which makes their situation both like and unlike the experience of other Jews living in diaspora settings. There is, of course, more to it than that and thus we turn to the rest of the work. Reading 1:1–10:18 in the Light of 13:1–6 Do we find traces in Hebrews 1:1–10:18 of the concern with potential danger of suffering? The first direct reference comes in the author’s exposition of Psalm 8:5–7 in 2:9, where the author refers to Jesus as “crowned with glory and honour because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone” įȚ੹ IJઁ ʌ੺șȘȝĮ IJȠ૨ șĮȞ੺IJȠȣ įંȟૉ țĮ੿ IJȚȝૌ ਥıIJİijĮȞȦȝ੼ȞȠȞ, ੖ʌȦȢ Ȥ੺ȡȚIJȚ șİȠ૨ ਫ਼ʌ੻ȡ ʌĮȞIJઁȢ Ȗİ઄ıȘIJĮȚ șĮȞ੺IJȠȣ. The focus here may be more on his experiencing death than on his suffering but the latter certainly becomes the focus in what follows, where we read: ਯʌȡİʌİȞ Ȗ੹ȡ Į੝IJ૶, įȚૅ ੔Ȟ IJ੹ ʌ੺ȞIJĮ țĮ੿ įȚૅ Ƞ੤ IJ੹ ʌ੺ȞIJĮ, ʌȠȜȜȠઃȢ ȣੂȠઃȢ İੁȢ įંȟĮȞ ਕȖĮȖંȞIJĮ IJઁȞ ਕȡȤȘȖઁȞ IJોȢ ıȦIJȘȡ઀ĮȢ Į੝IJ૵Ȟ įȚ੹ ʌĮșȘȝ੺IJȦȞ IJİȜİȚ૵ıĮȚ. It was fitting that God, for whom and through whom all things exist, in bringing many children to glory, should make the pioneer of their salvation perfect through sufferings. (2:10)

“Sufferings” are the focus. In 2:11–18 the author underlines the solidarity between the Son and the sons53 in doing what he did, tasting death for all,

53 On the significance of sonship (family), already in the exordium, see Scott D. Mackie, “Confession of the Son of God in the Exordium of Hebrews,” JSNT 30 (2008): 437–53, 450; Scott D. Mackie, “Early Christian Eschatological Experience in the Warnings and Exhortations of the Epistle to the Hebrews,” TynBul 63 (2012): 93–114, 108, 110.

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disempowering the devil, liberating people from fear of death, becoming their high priest. The climax of the argument comes in 2:18 where the author declares: ੖șİȞ ੭ijİȚȜİȞ țĮIJ੹ ʌ੺ȞIJĮ IJȠ૙Ȣ ਕįİȜijȠ૙Ȣ ੒ȝȠȚȦșોȞĮȚ, ੆ȞĮ ਥȜİ੾ȝȦȞ Ȗ੼ȞȘIJĮȚ țĮ੿ ʌȚıIJઁȢ ਕȡȤȚİȡİઃȢ IJ੹ ʌȡઁȢ IJઁȞ șİઁȞ İੁȢ IJઁ ੂȜ੺ıțİıșĮȚ IJ੹Ȣ ਖȝĮȡIJ઀ĮȢ IJȠ૨ ȜĮȠ૨. ਥȞ મ Ȗ੹ȡ ʌ੼ʌȠȞșİȞ Į੝IJઁȢ ʌİȚȡĮıșİ઀Ȣ, į઄ȞĮIJĮȚ IJȠ૙Ȣ ʌİȚȡĮȗȠȝ੼ȞȠȚȢ ȕȠȘșોıĮȚ. Therefore he had to become like his brothers and sisters in every respect, so that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make a sacrifice of atonement for the sins of the people. Because he himself was tested by what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested. (2:17–18)

The author returns later in chapters 9–10 to the theme of Jesus the high priest making atonement for sins, but first he brings the focus back to where he began in 2:10: suffering. Jesus faced suffering and so can act in solidarity with his adopted brothers and sisters when they face the test of suffering. That belongs to his being merciful and faithful. “Faithful” is the link word for the author’s exposition of Jesus’ status as Son over God’s household to which the listeners belong as family, if they maintain confidence of faith, which the author reinforces by use of Psalm 95. Then we find him returning to the theme of facing danger, elaborating what he had said in 2:18. They are to put their trust in Jesus the high priest who has passed through the heavens. Ƞ੝ Ȗ੹ȡ ਩ȤȠȝİȞ ਕȡȤȚİȡ੼Į ȝ੽ įȣȞ੺ȝİȞȠȞ ıȣȝʌĮșોıĮȚ IJĮ૙Ȣ ਕıșİȞİ઀ĮȚȢ ਲȝ૵Ȟ, ʌİʌİȚȡĮıȝ੼ȞȠȞ į੻ țĮIJ੹ ʌ੺ȞIJĮ țĮșૅ ੒ȝȠȚંIJȘIJĮ ȤȦȡ੿Ȣ ਖȝĮȡIJ઀ĮȢ. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. (4:14)

Again, the focus is Christ’s solidarity with his adopted siblings. As they suffer and are tempted to give up, so he suffered but did not give up. Accordingly, they should seek his help. ʌȡȠıİȡȤઆȝİșĮ Ƞ੣Ȟ ȝİIJ੹ ʌĮȡȡȘı઀ĮȢ IJ૶ șȡંȞ૳ IJોȢ Ȥ੺ȡȚIJȠȢ, ੆ȞĮ Ȝ੺ȕȦȝİȞ ਩ȜİȠȢ țĮ੿ Ȥ੺ȡȚȞ İ੢ȡȦȝİȞ İੁȢ İ੡țĮȚȡȠȞ ȕȠ੾șİȚĮȞ. Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. (4:16)

This is not about Jesus being sympathetic when they sin but about his being sympathetic when they are tempted to sin and so praying for them.54 That is the help they can be given in times of need, in times of suffering. The author expands the analogy of Jesus as high priest, developing a contrast with fallible Levitical high priests, and hailing his appointment in the words of 54 See the discussion in Loader, “Revisiting High Priesthood Christology,” 268–69, in this volume chapter 18, p. 322.

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Ps 110:4, but again emphasising his engagement with pain and suffering. Thus, the theme of 2:10, 2:18 and 4:14–16 returns in 5:7–8, where he dramatically portrays Jesus struggling with the prospect of suffering: ੔Ȣ ਥȞ IJĮ૙Ȣ ਲȝ੼ȡĮȚȢ IJોȢ ıĮȡțઁȢ Į੝IJȠ૨ įİ੾ıİȚȢ IJİ țĮ੿ ੂțİIJȘȡ઀ĮȢ ʌȡઁȢ IJઁȞ įȣȞ੺ȝİȞȠȞ ı૴ȗİȚȞ Į੝IJઁȞ ਥț șĮȞ੺IJȠȣ ȝİIJ੹ țȡĮȣȖોȢ ੁıȤȣȡ઼Ȣ țĮ੿ įĮțȡ઄ȦȞ ʌȡȠıİȞ੼ȖțĮȢ țĮ੿ İੁıĮțȠȣıșİ੿Ȣ ਕʌઁ IJોȢ İ੝ȜĮȕİ઀ĮȢ, 8 țĮ઀ʌİȡ ੫Ȟ ȣੂંȢ, ਩ȝĮșİȞ ਕijૅ ੰȞ ਩ʌĮșİȞ IJ੽Ȟ ਫ਼ʌĮțȠ੾Ȟ. In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission. 8 Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered.

The focus on Jesus’ presence before God as a basis for hope for those on the journey reappears in 6:19–20. ਴Ȟ ੪Ȣ ਙȖțȣȡĮȞ ਩ȤȠȝİȞ IJોȢ ȥȣȤોȢ ਕıijĮȜો IJİ țĮ੿ ȕİȕĮ઀ĮȞ țĮ੿ İੁıİȡȤȠȝ੼ȞȘȞ İੁȢ IJઁ ਥıઆIJİȡȠȞ IJȠ૨ țĮIJĮʌİIJ੺ıȝĮIJȠȢ, 20 ੖ʌȠȣ ʌȡંįȡȠȝȠȢ ਫ਼ʌ੻ȡ ਲȝ૵Ȟ İੁıોȜșİȞ ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȣ, țĮIJ੹ IJ੽Ȟ IJ੺ȟȚȞ ȂİȜȤȚı੼įİț ਕȡȤȚİȡİઃȢ ȖİȞંȝİȞȠȢ İੁȢ IJઁȞ Įੁ૵ȞĮ. We have this hope, a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters the inner shrine behind the curtain, 20 where Jesus, a forerunner on our behalf, has entered, having become a high priest for ever according to the order of Melchizedek.

After another excursus affirming his superiority, his present action as intercessor for his own comes into focus in 7:25. ੖șİȞ țĮ੿ ı૴ȗİȚȞ İੁȢ IJઁ ʌĮȞIJİȜ੻Ȣ į઄ȞĮIJĮȚ IJȠઃȢ ʌȡȠıİȡȤȠȝ੼ȞȠȣȢ įȚૅ Į੝IJȠ૨ IJ૶ șİ૶, ʌ੺ȞIJȠIJİ ȗ૵Ȟ İੁȢ IJઁ ਥȞIJȣȖȤ੺ȞİȚȞ ਫ਼ʌ੻ȡ Į੝IJ૵Ȟ. Consequently, he is able for all time to save those who approach God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them.

Danger confronts the listeners and the author comforts them by highlighting the fact that when they face such danger, they can seek Christ’s intercession as high priest in the heavenly sanctuary before God. In this way he seeks to encourage them to remain faithful not only by holding up Jesus as an example to be followed, but especially by depicting him as one who prays for them. I have argued elsewhere that the author has probably inherited the notion of Jesus as intercessor and of Jesus as heavenly high priest from his tradition.55 It is part of the confession to which he urges them to continue to hold firmly. The christology of the confession serves to help him reassure his listeners and urge them not to give up but to remain faithful. Faith means holding firmly to that confession and accordingly remaining faithful. Mostly the focus could be just on individuals, but to see it this way would mean a failure to sense the notion of familial solidarity assumed throughout. We have express affirmation of such ethical behaviour expressing such solidarity in 6:10:

55 Loader, Sohn und Hoherpriester, 151–60; Loader, “Revisiting High Priesthood Christology,” 279–83, chapter 18 in this volume, pp. 332–35.

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Ƞ੝ Ȗ੹ȡ ਙįȚțȠȢ ੒ șİઁȢ ਥʌȚȜĮș੼ıșĮȚ IJȠ૨ ਩ȡȖȠȣ ਫ਼ȝ૵Ȟ țĮ੿ IJોȢ ਕȖ੺ʌȘȢ ਸȢ ਥȞİįİ઀ȟĮıșİ İੁȢ IJઁ ੕ȞȠȝĮ Į੝IJȠ૨, įȚĮțȠȞ੾ıĮȞIJİȢ IJȠ૙Ȣ ਖȖ઀ȠȚȢ țĮ੿ įȚĮțȠȞȠ૨ȞIJİȢ. For God is not unjust; he will not overlook your work and the love that you showed for his sake in serving the saints, as you still do.

That is ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į. Such ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į is also implied in the Son’s ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į with those to be adopted as his siblings, where proleptically he is depicted as having been sent and coming for their benefit (2:10), a solidarity which the author underlines in chapter 2. He emphasises that the one who sanctifies and those being sanctified as having one father (2:11).56 He cites scripture to emphasise the Son’s solidarity with his siblings (Ps 21:23 LXX; Isa 8:17–18 LXX). He notes the Son’s taking on flesh and blood (2:14) and his being made like his siblings in every respect (2:17). He writes of believers belonging as siblings in the Son’s household (3:6). While the focus is the Son’s ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į towards them, there is an ethical implication that they also express ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į towards one another and that this include costly care. The primary focus of the confession as applied in these chapters is Christ’s exalted status above the angels, which is described eschatologically in terms of future exercise of power, using Psalm 110:1b and Psalm 8:7 power, but primarily as placing him in a position where he can intercede as high priest before God on behalf of his own to help them make it through suffering and temptation on their faith journey. The confession also included the account of Christ’s salvific death but initially in the first seven chapters the author focuses on the solidarity of suffering which that made possible. In this sense 8:1 restates, as it puts it, the “main point” of what had been said up to that point, namely Christ’s presence as high priest before God: Ȁİij੺ȜĮȚȠȞ į੻ ਥʌ੿ IJȠ૙Ȣ ȜİȖȠȝ੼ȞȠȚȢ, IJȠȚȠ૨IJȠȞ ਩ȤȠȝİȞ ਕȡȤȚİȡ੼Į, ੔Ȣ ਥț੺șȚıİȞ ਥȞ įİȟȚઽ IJȠ૨ șȡંȞȠȣ IJોȢ ȝİȖĮȜȦı઄ȞȘȢ ਥȞ IJȠ૙Ȣ Ƞ੝ȡĮȞȠ૙Ȣ, IJ૵Ȟ ਖȖ઀ȦȞ ȜİȚIJȠȣȡȖઁȢ țĮ੿ IJોȢ ıțȘȞોȢ IJોȢ ਕȜȘșȚȞોȢ, ਴Ȟ ਩ʌȘȟİȞ ੒ ț઄ȡȚȠȢ, Ƞ੝ț ਙȞșȡȦʌȠȢ. Now the main point in what we are saying is this: we have such a high priest, one who is seated at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in the heavens, a minister in the sanctuary and the true tent that the Lord, and not any mortal, has set up. (8:1–2)

56 Thompson, “Argument and Persuasion,” writes: “In further support of the author’s refutatio is the statement in 2:11, which also states a general principle. īȐȡ in 2:11 suggests that the statement is in support of 2:10: ‘For the one who sanctifies and those who are being sanctified are of one.’ This statement is a maxim (Greek ȖȞȫȝȘ; Latin sententia), which the author presents as a general truth that provides the basis for the argument in 2:12–18. Students were taught that supporting a thesis with a maxim was an appropriate argumentation pattern” (p. 373).

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Typically, the author provides a link in this statement to themes which follow, namely the cult and the tent. These come into focus in the second main section of Hebrews 13, to which we turn for the second section of this paper. We see in 1:1–10:19, and especially in 1:1–7:28, a strong focus on how to respond when suffering is in prospect. Danger confronts the hearers. To address their situation the author expounds an element of the confession, namely Christ’s solidarity as Son and high priest who himself has faced suffering and made it through with failing, proving both an example for them to follow as they face the prospect of suffering and being now seated beside God full of understanding and compassion for those who are now on their journey facing the prospect of sufferings and praying for them to help them succeed. The Son’s compassion is an ethical model, mimesis, for how they need to seek to support each other on the way. We know little about the nature of the suffering with which they are being potentially confronted. Clearly it is not so acute as to persuade the author that they could not gather to hear his words. It does pervade his work, however, so that it forms an important backdrop for understanding the author’s appeal and ethical instruction, which clearly go beyond just concern with tired faith, coping with marginalisation and being a minority, and limitations of living in this world.

Hebrews 13:7–17 The passage begins and ends with a call to give attention to leaders, forming an inclusio.57 In 13:7 it is about remembering and imitating the faith of those who brought the listeners to faith. ȂȞȘȝȠȞİ઄İIJİ IJ૵Ȟ ਲȖȠȣȝ੼ȞȦȞ ਫ਼ȝ૵Ȟ, Ƞ੆IJȚȞİȢ ਥȜ੺ȜȘıĮȞ ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ IJઁȞ ȜંȖȠȞ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨, ੰȞ ਕȞĮșİȦȡȠ૨ȞIJİȢ IJ੽Ȟ ਩țȕĮıȚȞ IJોȢ ਕȞĮıIJȡȠijોȢ ȝȚȝİ૙ıșİ IJ੽Ȟ ʌ઀ıIJȚȞ. Remember your leaders, those who spoke the word of God to you; consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith.

In 13:17 it is about attitude to current leaders: Ȇİ઀șİıșİ IJȠ૙Ȣ ਲȖȠȣȝ੼ȞȠȚȢ ਫ਼ȝ૵Ȟ țĮ੿ ਫ਼ʌİ઀țİIJİ, Į੝IJȠ੿ Ȗ੹ȡ ਕȖȡȣʌȞȠ૨ıȚȞ ਫ਼ʌ੻ȡ IJ૵Ȟ ȥȣȤ૵Ȟ ਫ਼ȝ૵Ȟ ੪Ȣ ȜંȖȠȞ ਕʌȠįઆıȠȞIJİȢ, ੆ȞĮ ȝİIJ੹ ȤĮȡ઼Ȣ IJȠ૨IJȠ ʌȠȚ૵ıȚȞ țĮ੿ ȝ੽ ıIJİȞ੺ȗȠȞIJİȢǜ ਕȜȣıȚIJİȜ੻Ȣ Ȗ੹ȡ ਫ਼ȝ૙Ȟ IJȠ૨IJȠ. Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls and will give an account. Let them do this with joy and not with sighing – for that would be harmful to you.

57

Cockerill, Hebrews, 689.

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Respect for the past and for leaders was a commonplace in ethical exhortation, 58 as was generally the value put on ancient heritage and laws over against the new. The call in 13:7 to remember their first leaders and imitate their faith will not be without connection to what proceeds where the author has briefly outlined what such faith looks like in practice and where the prospect of danger hovers over the text and concludes ominously with the words: IJަ ʌȠȚ‫ޤ‬ıİȚ ȝȠȚ ܿȞșȡȦʌȠȢ; “What can anyone do to me?” (3:6). The leaders will have faced that situation and so are to be seen as models. They remained faithful, apparently to the end, since the author is referring to the past, whether that included their life of faith59 or their death. 60 There will also be a connection to what immediately follows, namely the declaration: ੉ȘıȠ૨Ȣ ȋȡȚıIJઁȢ ਥȤș੻Ȣ țĮ੿ ı੾ȝİȡȠȞ ੒ Į੝IJઁȢ țĮ੿ İੁȢ IJȠઃȢ Įੁ૵ȞĮȢ “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and for ever” (13:8).61 This could simply be a confessional flourish which the author drops into his text or, at least, relate to the exemplary faithfulness of their first leaders, who have since died, and reminds them that Jesus remains alive and willing to intercede for them, too, on their journey. Much more likely is that it relates directly to what it means to remember and hold to the faith, the preaching, of their founders about Jesus.62 This is made all the more probable by what follows where the author warns against false belief, false teachings. ǻȚįĮȤĮ૙Ȣ ʌȠȚț઀ȜĮȚȢ țĮ੿ ȟ੼ȞĮȚȢ ȝ੽ ʌĮȡĮij੼ȡİıșİǜ țĮȜઁȞ Ȗ੹ȡ Ȥ੺ȡȚIJȚ ȕİȕĮȚȠ૨ıșĮȚ IJ੽Ȟ țĮȡį઀ĮȞ, Ƞ੝ ȕȡઆȝĮıȚȞ ਥȞ ȠੈȢ Ƞ੝ț ੩ijİȜ੾șȘıĮȞ Ƞੂ ʌİȡȚʌĮIJȠ૨ȞIJİȢ. Do not be carried away by all kinds of strange teachings; for it is well for the heart to be strengthened by grace, not by regulations about food, which have not benefited those who observe them. (13:9)

As Cockerill notes, the author gives strange teachings prominence by placing them first in the sentence.63 Concern about keeping faithfully to what leaders have been teaching is equally relevant for the matching statement about leaders in 13:17. The focus may include submission in general, but, given what precedes in 13:7–9, not to speak of what then follows, it must also include remaining committed to what the leaders teach (and by implication what the author has been teaching). Indeed, an explanatory footnote would then need to read: “all of the above”, that is, what has been expounded of the confession because, as 13:8 makes clear: the message about Jesus remains the same. 58

Braun, Hebräer, points to Cicero’s instruction to remember leaders (p. 457). So Cockerill, Hebrews, 690; Mitchell, Hebrews, 298; Lane, Hebrews 2, 527. 60 Attridge, Hebrews, 392; David Arthus deSilva, Perseverance in Gratitude. A SocioRhetorical Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2000), 494; Johnson, Hebrews, 345–46. 61 On the structural parallel between 13:7 and 13:9, see Lane, Hebrews, 531. 62 So, for instance, Lane, Hebrews, 526–37. 63 Cockerill, Hebrews, 692. 59

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The claim that Jesus Christ has not changed (13:8), however, read within its context, may be understood as warding off counter claims, not just about any teaching, as it is usually understood, but teaching about Jesus. This would suggest that the warning about teachings which he calls “diverse and strange” ʌȠȚț઀ȜĮȚȢ țĮ੿ ȟ੼ȞĮȚȢ (13:9a) is addressing what some Christ-believers are teaching about Jesus and about the gospel. Belief matters and faithfulness in holding to what one believes, to the confession, and living accordingly is fundamental for the author. Since part of the function of the peroratio is to rehearse briefly the key elements of the argumentation, we may expect that the author means us to understand what follows in the light of this, however allusive and fragmentary its thoughts appear to be. Thus the warnings about diverse and strange teachings which apparently claim that such matters as food laws have an impact on strengthening the heart rather than grace, appear to be related to what follows, in which we find sharp contrasts using cultic allusions (13:9b–14).64 Cultic imagery continues in the exhortation to true worship which follows (13:15–16), before returning to the comment about leadership (13:17). The section, 13:9b–14, about diverse and strange teachings has been the subject of much debate and is only indirectly related to ethical issues. In contrast, the statement about true worship, 13:15–16, has a strong ethical component: IJોȢ į੻ İ੝ʌȠȚ૘ĮȢ țĮ੿ țȠȚȞȦȞ઀ĮȢ ȝ੽ ਥʌȚȜĮȞș੺Ȟİıșİǜ IJȠȚĮ઄IJĮȚȢ Ȗ੹ȡ șȣı઀ĮȚȢ İ੝ĮȡİıIJİ૙IJĮȚ ੒ șİંȢ. “Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have” (13:16a). At one level it forms an inclusio with the statement in 13:9b, țĮȜઁȞ Ȗ੹ȡ Ȥ੺ȡȚIJȚ ȕİȕĮȚȠ૨ıșĮȚ IJ੽Ȟ țĮȡį઀ĮȞ “for it is well for the heart to be strengthened by grace,” especially if by “grace” we would understand kindness, though as a contrast to foods (ȕȡઆȝĮıȚȞ) it probably refers to the grace and forgiveness of the gospel. It also recalls the appeal to embrace ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į in 13:1 and the comments about possessions in 13:5–6. Its association with a call to worship, IJȠȚĮ઄IJĮȚȢ Ȗ੹ȡ șȣı઀ĮȚȢ İ੝ĮȡİıIJİ૙IJĮȚ ੒ șİંȢ “for such sacrifices are pleasing to God” (13:16b), recalls the concluding words of chapter 12, which Koester sees, indeed, as the beginning of the peroratio. 65 ǻȚઁ ȕĮıȚȜİ઀ĮȞ ਕı੺ȜİȣIJȠȞ ʌĮȡĮȜĮȝȕ੺ȞȠȞIJİȢ ਩ȤȦȝİȞ Ȥ੺ȡȚȞ, įȚૅ ਸȢ ȜĮIJȡİ઄ȦȝİȞ İ੝Įȡ੼ıIJȦȢ IJ૶ șİ૶ ȝİIJ੹ İ੝ȜĮȕİ઀ĮȢ țĮ੿ į੼ȠȣȢǜ țĮ੿ Ȗ੹ȡ ‫ ݸ‬șİާȢ ਲȝ૵Ȟ ʌࠎȡ țĮIJĮȞĮȜަıțȠȞ.

64 According to Koester, Hebrews, “foods” in 13:9 is a metaphor for teachings (p. 560); similarly, Mitchell, Hebrews, who sees “foods” as a euphemism for anything related to the old covenant (p. 303). Cf. Jukka Thurén, Das Lobopfer der Hebräer. Studien zum Aufbau aund Anliegen von Hebräerbrief 13 (Åbo: Academi, 1973), who suggests Jewish ritual meals may be in view (pp. 194–200). Weiss, Hebräer, contends that the reference to foods relates to the past not to present false teachings (p. 721). On “strange teachings and foods,” see also Attridge, Hebrews, 394–96. 65 Koester, Hebrews, 554.

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Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us give thanks, by which we offer to God an acceptable worship with reverence and awe; for indeed our God is a consuming fire. (12:28–29)

The author pits this worship against an alternative, alluded to in 13:9–14, and introduces it in 13:15 with the words: ǻȚૅ Į੝IJȠ૨ [Ƞ੣Ȟ] ਕȞĮij੼ȡȦȝİȞ șȣı઀ĮȞ ĮੁȞ੼ıİȦȢ įȚ੹ ʌĮȞIJઁȢ IJ૶ șİ૶, IJȠ૨IJૅ ਩ıIJȚȞ țĮȡʌઁȞ ȤİȚȜ੼ȦȞ ੒ȝȠȜȠȖȠ઄ȞIJȦȞ IJ૶ ੑȞંȝĮIJȚ Į੝IJȠ૨. Through him, then, let us continually offer a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that confess his name.

In 13:9–14 we find both positive and negative statements. Both have ethical implications. First we have the assertion, țĮȜઁȞ Ȗ੹ȡ Ȥ੺ȡȚIJȚ ȕİȕĮȚȠ૨ıșĮȚ IJ੽Ȟ țĮȡį઀ĮȞ “for it is well for the heart to be strengthened by grace” (13:9b), which can be read as noted above as alluding to the theme of IJોȢ į੻ İ੝ʌȠȚ૘ĮȢ țĮ੿ țȠȚȞȦȞ઀ĮȢ (13:16) and of ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į (13:1), or simply to the grace and forgiveness of the gospel. The claim, ਩ȤȠȝİȞ șȣıȚĮıIJ੾ȡȚȠȞ “We have an altar” (13:10), is employing the imagery of receiving food from sacrifices on the altar, and so amounts to a claim of benefit, thus, on the more likely reading of Ȥ੺ȡȚIJȚ, to be referring to the grace of the gospel. Nothing indicates a eucharistic allusion,66 though a fertile thought. The claim probably has Christ’s death as a sacrifice in mind and the benefit: forgiveness of sins and atonement with God.67 In a fashion typical of the author of the rest of the work, the passage makes a transition by taking up one element of the imagery, namely that bodies of sacrificed animals whose blood was taken by the high priest on Atonement Day into the holiest place were burned outside the camp (13:11). The author correlates this in a mixing of imagery with the tradition that Jesus died outside the gate, in order to exhort his listeners to go outside the gate to face suffering as he did (13:12–13). Facing suffering as he did is a key theme of Hebrews and is part of what it means to imitate Jesus.68 Finally, the author asserts the claim: IJ੽Ȟ ȝ੼ȜȜȠȣıĮȞ [ʌંȜȚȞ] ਥʌȚȗȘIJȠ૨ȝİȞ “we are looking for the city that is to come” (13:14). The positive message, however complicated in its use of imagery, is clear: the listeners have assurance of salvation; they need to be willing to face suffering; and they look forward to a coming (heavenly) city.

66

So rightly Koester, Hebrews, who also rejects the notion that it might refer to a heavenly altar (p. 569). 67 So Koester, Hebrews, 568; Mitchell, Hebrews, 299. 68 Pamela M. Eisenbaum, “The “The Virtue of Suffering, the Necessity of Discipline, and the Pursuit of Perfection in Hebrews,” in Asceticism and the New Testament, ed. Leif E. Vaage, Vincent L. Wimbush (New York: Routledge, 1999), 331–53, proposes that the author sees suffering not as incidental but as something one “should experience, perhaps even cultivate” (p. 337). I see no evidence for this in the text. The author’s challenge is not to seek suffering but to withstand it and not give up under its pressure.

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It is not so easy to interpret the negatives:69 ǻȚįĮȤĮ૙Ȣ ʌȠȚț઀ȜĮȚȢ țĮ੿ ȟ੼ȞĮȚȢ ȝ੽ ʌĮȡĮij੼ȡİıșİ Do not be carried away by strange and diverse teachings. (13:9) ȕȡઆȝĮıȚȞ ਥȞ ȠੈȢ Ƞ੝ț ੩ijİȜ੾șȘıĮȞ Ƞੂ ʌİȡȚʌĮIJȠ૨ȞIJİȢ regulations about food, which have not benefited those who observe them. (13:9) IJȠ઀ȞȣȞ ਥȟİȡȤઆȝİșĮ ʌȡઁȢ Į੝IJઁȞ ਩ȟȦ IJોȢ ʌĮȡİȝȕȠȜોȢ Let us then go to him outside the camp. (13:13) Ƞ੝ Ȗ੹ȡ ਩ȤȠȝİȞ ੰįİ ȝ੼ȞȠȣıĮȞ ʌંȜȚȞ For here we have no lasting city. (13:14)

One may want to add: ijĮȖİ૙Ȟ Ƞ੝ț ਩ȤȠȣıȚȞ ਥȟȠȣı઀ĮȞ Ƞੂ IJૌ ıțȘȞૌ ȜĮIJȡİ઄ȠȞIJİȢ “those who officiate in the tent have no right to eat” (13:10), 70 but this may mean no more than that the author distinguishes the Atonement Day sacrifices from other sacrifices where priests and those bringing the sacrifice ate portions of the meat (Lev 7:33–36; 24:9; Num 18:8–11; cf. 6:30). Interpretations of the remaining statements vary greatly from taking them as references to this world compared to the heavenly world to taking them as instructions not to revert to Judaism. The former can read “outside the camp” and the reference to no lasting city as referring to this world,71 or sometimes to normal city life.72 The problem with that line of interpretation is that it does not make good sense of the references to teachings and foods. The positive reference to leaders, to Jesus Christ remaining the same, namely the confession about him, and the achievement of his death, suggest that the negative references also need to be viewed together. To negate the confession in that sense is to embrace wrong teachings, and in some sense to remain in the camp and committed to a city. The interpretation which sees a warning not to revert

69 See the discussion of the main options in Ole Jakob Filtvedt, The Identity of God’s People and the Paradox of Hebrews, WUNT 2.400 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015). 70 So Koester, Hebrews, who sees it as a warning against those who serve the tent (p. 556); similarly, Cockerill, Hebrews, 702; Thompson, “Insider Ethics,” 212. 71 So Backhaus, “Ethik,” 223, and Backhaus, Hebräer, 47–51, where he describes the issue as partly theological, namely the need to overcome the sense of distance between God and humanity reflecting middle platonic philosophy, which the author then shows Christ overcoming. See the critical discussion in Wolfgang Kraus, “Zu Absicht und Zielsetzung des Hebraerbriefes,” KD 60 (2014): 250–71, 258–60. 72 So Koester, Hebrews, 571–76; also Backhaus, “Ethik,” who writes of the need to move out from “dem urbanen Mehrheitsmilieu” (p. 222), seeing a parallel in Rev 18:4; similarly, Thompson, “Insider Ethics,” 213. Ellen Bradshaw Aitken, “Portraying the Temple in Stone and Text: The Arch of Titus and the Epistle to the Hebrews,” Sewanee Theological Review 58 (2015): 617–44, speculates that “Hebrews should be read as critiquing the imperial ideology expressed in the events and monuments surrounding the triumph of Vespasian and Titus” (pp. 619, 636).

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to Judaism 73 assumes this connection but is anachronistic in the sense that it assumes that a single entity, Judaism, existed at the time. If 13:8 implies that the problem is with what some Christ-believers are teaching about Jesus, then the images of “camp” and “city” might refer to a particular community of Christ-believers who strongly embrace Jewish heritage. We shall return to such speculations in the final section of this paper. The ethical implications are to remain faithful to what their first leaders taught them about Jesus and resist the danger of alternatives, even when it means therefore being exposed to potential danger of suffering. What in 13:7– 17 is allusive we might expect to reflect substance presented in the author’s argumentation, which, in turn, will inform our understanding of the ethical challenges which the author sees facing his listeners. Hebrews 13:7–17 within the Context of Hebrews In 13:7–17 the author revisits the imagery and the argument of the second half of Hebrews, especially his creative employment of Atonement day typology in chapters 9 and 10. The differences in the use of the typology are noteworthy. In 13:10–14 the author first uses the fact that sacrifices on Atonement Day were not consumed in order to distance his listeners from teachings about foods. Then he takes up the detail of where the carcases of the sacrificed animals were burned to urge that the listeners go forth to face up to the prospect of suffering. That is a very different use of the typology from earlier where it serves to depict Jesus as high priest, sacrificing himself for our redemption and then presenting that in the Holiest Place to God. Some see the typology governing the soteriology, so that as the sacrifice of the animals is merely preparatory for the salvific act of sprinkling their blood in the inner sanctum, so Christ’s death was merely preparatory and the salvific act, his entry into the Holiest Place of the heavenly temple with his blood.74 I have argued elsewhere that, rather, the soteriology governs the typology, so that as Christian Eberhart puts it, there is a Gewichtsverlagerung in the use of the typology, 75 so that, far from being 73 So Lane, Hebrews, 545–46; C. Adrian Thomas, A Case for Mixed-Audience Reference in the Warning Passages in the Book of Hebrews (New York: Peter Lang, 2008), 178, 277; Cockerill, Hebrews, who writes: “Thus ‘camp’ refers metaphorically to the unbelieving social order that has rejected Christ” and “specifically to the community of those who consisted on continuing to live by the Old Covenant,” who have rejected Christ, like those who rebelled at Kadesh Barnea (p. 702). See the discussion in Filtvedt, Identity, 5–8, and the case against this by Mason, “Epistle,” who writes: “The theological danger is apathy and ultimately renunciation of faith, not an attraction to Judaism” (p. 20). 74 See the detailed discussion of this approach and its proponents in Loader, “Revisiting High Priesthood Christology,” 238–42, in this volume chapter 18, pp. 293–97. 75 Christian Eberhart, Kultmetaphorik und Christologie. Opfer und Sühneterminologie im Neuen Testament, WUNT 306 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 141. Similarly, Donald A. Hagner, “The Son of God as Unique High Priest: The Christology of the Epistle to the

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preparatory, Jesus’ death is the salvific act and his entry the presentation before God of the finished work. 76 The different use of the typology suggests to some that this must be the work of a different author. 77 On the other hand, one needs to see that already earlier the author plays selectively and rather loosely with the typology to suits his ends. 78 The notion of Jesus being both the sacrifice and the bearer of its blood as high priest is already rather stretching the imagery. There are also significant absences in the application of the typology to Jesus, such as omitting reference to the key event of sprinkling of the blood and any reference to the goat for Azazel. There is also a mixing of images when he refers to the sprinkling of the heifer’s ashes (9:13), nothing to with Atonement Day. 79 The identification of the curtain with Jesus’ flesh in 10:20 is a further rather bizarre twist of the imagery. The mixing of seafaring imagery and temple imagery in locating an anchor in the Holiest Place in 6:20 is similarly striking. One could then see the

Hebrews,” in Contours of Christology in the New Testament, ed. Richard N. Longenecker, MMNTS 7 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), 247–67, who writes: “When the author compares the earthly tabernacle with the true heavenly sanctuary and notes that Christ offered his blood there (9:11–12, 24), it is very unlikely that he has in mind an actual structure where atonement is accomplished by the offering of the blood of Christ after Christ’s ascension into heaven” (p. 260). See also Sebastian Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen. Christologie und Neuer Bund im Hebräerbrief, WMANT 113 (NeukirchenVluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2007), 175; Felix H. Cortez, “From the Holy to the Most Holy Place: The Period of Hebrews 9:6–10 and the Day of Atonement as a Metaphor of Transition,” JBL 125 (2006): 527–47, 529; and the discussion in Loader, “Revisiting High Priesthood Christology,” 243–48, in this volume chapter 18, pp. 297–303. Eberhart observes: “Im Hebräerbrief ist verschiedentlich manifest, dass der Opferkult und die Betonung des Todes geradezu inkompatibel sind” (p. 148). 76 See the detailed discussion in Loader, “Revisiting High Priesthood Christology,” 243– 64, in this volume chapter 18, pp. 297–318. 77 So Kraus, “Zur Schriftverwendung in Hebräer 13.” 78 On the author’s selective use of detail of the Atonement Day ritual, see Loader, “Revisiting High Priesthood Christology,” 243–48, in this volume chapter 18, pp. 297–303; Gabriella Gelardini, “The Inauguration of Yom Kippur According to the LXX and Its Cessation or Perpetuation According to the Book of Hebrews: A Systematic Comparison,” in The Day of Atonement. Its Interpretations in early Jewish and Christian Traditions, ed. Thomas Hieke and Tobias Nicklas (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 225–54, 242–45, who concludes that for the author “Christ’s one sacrifice covers all sixteen sacrifices needed for Yom Kippur” (p. 247). See also Mackie, Eschatology, who notes the author’s “omission of the incense (Lev 16:12–13) and scapegoat rituals (Lev 16:8–10, 21–22), as well as the high priest’s atonement for his own sins (Lev 16:6, 11, 17, 24; cf. Heb 7:26–27; 9:14)” (p. 177); David Arthur deSilva, “The Invention and Argumentative Function of Priestly Discourse in the Epistle to the Hebrews.” BBR 16 (2006), 295–323, 299. 79 Cortez, “Most Holy Place,” 528–29.

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use in 13:10–14 as just another indication of the author’s liberal exploitation of the imagery to make a point.80 These considerations are marginal to our theme of ethics in Hebrews but reflect the author’s struggle to make the typology work in the interests of affirming the validity and importance of the teaching first given his addressees, including the reference to the salvific achievement of Jesus’ death, and exhorting them to stick by it. For the behavioural stance enjoined on the listeners in 13:7–17 is to remain firmly committed to the teaching given them in the beginning and upheld in the present by their leaders, the unchanging truth about Jesus Christ, and be prepared to face suffering as a result. This coheres with the emphasis in the rest of Hebrews on holding firmly to the confession and holding together. țĮIJ੼ȤȦȝİȞ IJ੽Ȟ ੒ȝȠȜȠȖ઀ĮȞ IJોȢ ਥȜʌ઀įȠȢ ਕțȜȚȞો, ʌȚıIJઁȢ Ȗ੹ȡ ੒ ਥʌĮȖȖİȚȜ੺ȝİȞȠȢ, 24 țĮ੿ țĮIJĮȞȠ૵ȝİȞ ਕȜȜ੾ȜȠȣȢ İੁȢ ʌĮȡȠȟȣıȝઁȞ ਕȖ੺ʌȘȢ țĮ੿ țĮȜ૵Ȟ ਩ȡȖȦȞ, 25 ȝ੽ ਥȖțĮIJĮȜİ઀ʌȠȞIJİȢ IJ੽Ȟ ਥʌȚıȣȞĮȖȦȖ੽Ȟ ਦĮȣIJ૵Ȟ, țĮșઅȢ ਩șȠȢ IJȚı઀Ȟ, ਕȜȜ੹ ʌĮȡĮțĮȜȠ૨ȞIJİȢ, țĮ੿ IJȠıȠ઄IJ૳ ȝ઼ȜȜȠȞ ੖ı૳ ȕȜ੼ʌİIJİ ਥȖȖ઀ȗȠȣıĮȞ IJ੽Ȟ ਲȝ੼ȡĮȞ. Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful. 24And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, 25 not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching. (10:23–25)

Whereas earlier the focus in the exhortation to hold to the confession was on Christ’s presence as high priest interceding for own with empathy having himself experience the temptation to give up in the face of suffering (3:1; 4:14), here, as 10:19–22 shows, the focus is especially on Christ’s saving work as high priest, expressed through the author’s creative construction of Atonement Day typology. Christ’s saving work as high priest is the basis of the hope that when the day comes, they will enter the heavenly sanctuary. ਯȤȠȞIJİȢ Ƞ੣Ȟ, ਕįİȜijȠ઀, ʌĮȡȡȘı઀ĮȞ İੁȢ IJ੽Ȟ İ੅ıȠįȠȞ IJ૵Ȟ ਖȖ઀ȦȞ ਥȞ IJ૶ Į੆ȝĮIJȚ ੉ȘıȠ૨, 20 ਴Ȟ ਥȞİțĮ઀ȞȚıİȞ ਲȝ૙Ȟ ੒įઁȞ ʌȡંıijĮIJȠȞ țĮ੿ ȗ૵ıĮȞ įȚ੹ IJȠ૨ țĮIJĮʌİIJ੺ıȝĮIJȠȢ, IJȠ૨IJૅ ਩ıIJȚȞ IJોȢ ıĮȡțઁȢ Į੝IJȠ૨, 21 țĮ੿ ੂİȡ੼Į ȝ੼ȖĮȞ ਥʌ੿ IJઁȞ ȠੇțȠȞ IJȠ૨ șİȠ૨, 22 ʌȡȠıİȡȤઆȝİșĮ ȝİIJ੹ ਕȜȘșȚȞોȢ țĮȡį઀ĮȢ ਥȞ ʌȜȘȡȠijȠȡ઀઺ ʌ઀ıIJİȦȢ ૧İȡĮȞIJȚıȝ੼ȞȠȚ IJ੹Ȣ țĮȡį઀ĮȢ ਕʌઁ ıȣȞİȚį੾ıİȦȢ ʌȠȞȘȡ઼Ȣ țĮ੿ ȜİȜȠȣıȝ੼ȞȠȚ IJઁ ı૵ȝĮ ੢įĮIJȚ țĮșĮȡ૶ǜ Therefore, my friends, since we have confidence to enter the sanctuary by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain (that is, through his flesh), 21 and since we have a great priest over the house of God, 22let us approach with a true 20

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Mason, “Epistle,” writes: “Surely this hints that the author is more concerned with pushing toward his concluding exhortation than he is with making logical, polemical arguments along the way. If this is a polemic against Judaism, it is very clumsy” (p. 19). Jared C. Calaway, The Sabbath and the Sanctuary. Access to God in the Letter to the Hebrews and Its Priestly Context, WUNT 2.349 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), writes of the loose use of imagery linking Jesus’ death in relation to the carcasses (pp. 117–18).

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heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. (10:19–22)

While the focus on the unchanged confession about Jesus is prominent, we find no equivalent to the emphasis on leaders in the rest of Hebrews, leaders of the past (13:7) or leaders of the present (13:17). As in 13:7, there is, however, an appeal to be “imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises” (6:12). They are to remain committed to what the leaders teach, including what the author has been expounding. The author has earlier used a conventional rhetorical topos of teachers, employed also by Paul writing to the Corinthians (1 Cor 3:1–3), in scolding the listeners for not growing up, for being babes or beginners when by now they should be teachers.81 Taking this literally might suggest that this document has its setting in a school for teachers82 but I find insufficient support for this in the rest of the work. The author’s creative development of Atonement Day typology is advanced teaching designed to reinforce the faith of their confession. Accordingly, the author calls them to maturity: ǻȚઁ ਕij੼ȞIJİȢ IJઁȞ IJોȢ ਕȡȤોȢ IJȠ૨ ȋȡȚıIJȠ૨ ȜંȖȠȞ ਥʌ੿ IJ੽Ȟ IJİȜİȚંIJȘIJĮ ijİȡઆȝİșĮ “Therefore let us go on towards perfection [maturity], leaving behind the basic teaching about Christ” (6:1). The call to advance to maturity might sound like a call to ethical maturity, but its focus is not ethics. It is primarily his attempt to prepare his listeners for his creative discourse about Jesus as high priest after the order of Melchisedek, which might be difficult to understand: Ȇİȡ੿ Ƞ੤ ʌȠȜઃȢ ਲȝ૙Ȟ ੒ ȜંȖȠȢ țĮ੿ įȣıİȡȝ੾ȞİȣIJȠȢ Ȝ੼ȖİȚȞ “About this we have much to say that is hard to explain” (5:11). The call to maturity is thus not about ethics but about ideas and better understanding.83

81 Timothy Luckritz Marquis, “Perfection Perfected: The Stoic ‘Self-Eluding Sage’ and Moral Progress in Hebrews,” NovT 57 (2015): 187–205, draws attention to “terminological and structural similarities between discussions of the Stoic figure and discussions of progress in Hebrews (especially 5:14–6:3) help contextualize the speech’s concern for moral insight and improvement within a general Roman-era focus on moral progress toward filling communal roles” (p. 187). 82 So Wolfgang Kraus, “Wer soll das verstehen? Überlegungen zu den Adressaten des Hebräerbriefs. Ein Gespräch mit Udo Schnelle,” in Spurensuche zur Einleitung in das Neue Testament: Eine Festschrift im Dialog mit Udo Schnelle, ed. Michael Labahn, FRLANT 271 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2017), 279–93, who ponders this possibility (p. 62). 83 Cf. Marquis, “Perfection Perfected,” who writes: “For Hebrews, fully perfected virtue is a matter of the way in which ĮੁıșȘIJ੾ȡȚĮ discern good and evil deeds. For both the Stoics and the author of Hebrews, final perfection is achieved when one’s ability to perceive moral duties – the difference between good and evil – becomes habituated and, thus, clearly present” (p. 200). The author’s exposition is, however, not about discerning good and evil but about gaining a deeper understanding of the confession.

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The cognates IJİȜİȚંIJȘȢ and IJ੼ȜİȚȠȢ are used in 5:11–14 of personal maturity of understanding in contrast to immaturity, a standard topos of challenging people not to be babies but to grow up. In 9:11 IJİȜİȚȠIJ੼ȡĮȢ is used to speak of the superiority of the heavenly temple. They are to be distinguished from the author’s use of the verb IJİȜİȚંȦ and the nouns IJİȜİ઀ȦıȚȢ and IJİȜİȚȦIJ੾Ȣ, which have sometimes led to confusion especially when they have been read in an ethical or vocational sense.84 When the author speaks of Jesus being perfected through his exaltation to God’s right hand, he does not imply moral growth or learning. Rather the focus is his having been brought to the IJ੼ȜȠȢ, goal, of his journey of faith, the holy presence of God. Of Jesus the author writes in 2:10 that it was fitting that God “perfect” him through suffering, that is bring him to the goal of his journey along the path of suffering, since he would be leading others to glory through suffering (ਯʌȡİʌİȞ Ȗ੹ȡ Į੝IJ૶, įȚૅ ੔Ȟ IJ੹ ʌ੺ȞIJĮ țĮ੿ įȚૅ Ƞ੤ IJ੹ ʌ੺ȞIJĮ, ʌȠȜȜȠઃȢ ȣੂȠઃȢ İੁȢ įંȟĮȞ ਕȖĮȖંȞIJĮ IJઁȞ ਕȡȤȘȖઁȞ IJોȢ ıȦIJȘȡ઀ĮȢ Į੝IJ૵Ȟ įȚ੹ ʌĮșȘȝ੺IJȦȞ IJİȜİȚ૵ıĮȚ). Accordingly, in 5:7–9 he portrays Jesus as brought to his goal through suffering. Along the way he learned what meant to persevere, but that is not to be read into the use of IJİȜİȚȦșİ઀Ȣ here as though his learning “perfected” him, maturing him, morally or even vocationally. 85 The author has another word for maturity: IJİȜİȚંIJȘȢ, not IJİȜİ઀ȦıȚȢ. 84 See my discussion of teleiosis as a cultic-soteriological concept in Loader, Sohn und Hoherpriester, 46–49, in which I discuss its use in the LXX of priestly consecration, its use in relation to death (Wis 4:13 and 4 Macc 7:15), Philo’s use of the word, suggested links with Gnosis and the Mysteries, and its occurrence in early Christian literature. See also Loader, “Revisiting High Priesthood Christology,” 269–70, in this volume chapter 18 pp. 323–24; John M. Scholer, Proleptic Priests. Priesthood in the Epistle to the Hebrews, JSNTSup 49 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1991), 198–99, who writes: “IJİȜİȚȠ૨Ȟ serves to describe the ‘attaining to the goal’, which is the direct presence of God. When used of the living believers it bespeaks a present reality and parallels the Epistle’s cultic use of ʌȡȠı੼ȡȤİıșĮȚ. When dealing with Jesus Christ and the dead faithful it parallels Hebrew’s usage of İੁı੼ȡȤİıșĮȚ” (p. 200). 85 The moral sense is better fitting for the listeners, so that when applied to Christ the focus, it is argued, is primarily vocational preparedness or training. So Attridge, Hebrews: “Christ’s perfecting, as developed in the text, may be understood as a vocational process by which he is made complete or fit for his office. This process involves: not a moral dimension, but an existential one” (pp. 86–87); similarly, Brian C. Small, The Characterization of Jesus in the Book of Hebrews, BibInt 128 (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 223; Marquis, “Perfection Perfected,” who writes: “For Hebrews, ‘perfection’ entails moral improvement understood as the overlap between existential and vocational realities” (p. 189); David Peterson, Hebrews and Perfection. An Examination of the Concept of Perfection in the Epistle to the Hebrews, SNTMS 47 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 96–103; Sebastian Fuhrmann, “Christ Grown into Perfection: Hebrews 9,11 from a Christological Point of View,” Biblica 9 (2008), 92–100, cites Seneca that “virtue is something which must be learned (nemo est casu bonus, discenda virtus est)” (p. 97) and translates ȐȡȤȚİȡİȪȢ IJȦȞ ȖİȞȠȝȑȞȦȞ ĮȖĮșȫȞ as “the high priest whose virtues have come into being” (p. 100); Neyrey, “Syncrisis and Encomium,” 285; Amy L. B. Peeler, “The ethos of God in Hebrews,” PRSt 37 (2010): 37–51, 50.

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Part of the argument in chapter 7 is that the new priesthood which Christ exercises can “perfect”, that is, make people fit for entry into the holy place, because Christ has been permanently “perfected” (੒ ȜંȖȠȢ į੻ IJોȢ ੒ȡțȦȝȠı઀ĮȢ IJોȢ ȝİIJ੹ IJઁȞ ȞંȝȠȞ ȣੂઁȞ İੁȢ IJઁȞ Įੁ૵ȞĮ IJİIJİȜİȚȦȝ੼ȞȠȞ) (7:28), that is, unlike the mortal high priests of the Levitical law, but like Melchisedek, he has been permanently located in the heavenly temple because he has “the power of an indestructible life” (țĮIJ੹ į઄ȞĮȝȚȞ ȗȦોȢ ਕțĮIJĮȜ઄IJȠȣ) (7:16). When used of believers the words, IJİȜİȚંȦ and the nouns IJİȜİ઀ȦıȚȢ, refer to either reaching the goal of God’s presence or becoming qualified to reach it, and so the author refers to Christ as IJİȜİȚȦIJ੾Ȣ, namely as the one making this possible through his salvific act and his ongoing intercession to help them as they face suffering. In 7:19 the author declares that this was something the Law could not achieve: (Ƞ੝į੻Ȟ Ȗ੹ȡ ਥIJİȜİ઀ȦıİȞ ੒ ȞંȝȠȢ) (7:19). Thus 9:9 refers to gifts and sacrifices not being able to render the person qualified to reach the goal of God’s presence (į૵ȡ੺ IJİ țĮ੿ șȣı઀ĮȚ ʌȡȠıij੼ȡȠȞIJĮȚ ȝ੽ įȣȞ੺ȝİȞĮȚ țĮIJ੹ ıȣȞİ઀įȘıȚȞ IJİȜİȚ૵ıĮȚ IJઁȞ ȜĮIJȡİ઄ȠȞIJĮ). In 10:1 the author makes the same point: țĮIJૅ ਥȞȚĮȣIJઁȞ IJĮ૙Ȣ Į੝IJĮ૙Ȣ șȣı઀ĮȚȢ ਘȢ ʌȡȠıij੼ȡȠȣıȚȞ İੁȢ IJઁ įȚȘȞİț੻Ȣ Ƞ੝į੼ʌȠIJİ į઄ȞĮIJĮȚ IJȠઃȢ ʌȡȠıİȡȤȠȝ੼ȞȠȣȢ IJİȜİȚ૵ıĮȚ). By contrast, Christ’s one sacrifice permanently qualifies those made holy through it (ȝȚઽ Ȗ੹ȡ ʌȡȠıijȠȡઽ IJİIJİȜİ઀ȦțİȞ İੁȢ IJઁ įȚȘȞİț੻Ȣ IJȠઃȢ ਖȖȚĮȗȠȝ੼ȞȠȣȢ) (10:14). At the end of the list of heroes of faith the author comments that they all were not able to reach the goal of God’s presence, variously described, as the holy place, the holy city, and the land, until Christ opened the way so that they could not enter without those who received the benefit of being made to qualify through Christ (੆ȞĮ ȝ੽ ȤȦȡ੿Ȣ ਲȝ૵Ȟ IJİȜİȚȦș૵ıȚȞ) (11:40). Then it follows that they are now in the heavenly realms, brought to the goal which they sought (țĮ੿ ਥțțȜȘı઀઺ ʌȡȦIJȠIJંțȦȞ ਕʌȠȖİȖȡĮȝȝ੼ȞȦȞ ਥȞ Ƞ੝ȡĮȞȠ૙Ȣ țĮ੿ țȡȚIJૌ șİ૶ ʌ੺ȞIJȦȞ țĮ੿ ʌȞİ઄ȝĮıȚȞ įȚțĮ઀ȦȞ IJİIJİȜİȚȦȝ੼ȞȦȞ) (12:23). In 10:14, the term means that they have been put into a state where they will reach that goal. ȝȚઽ Ȗ੹ȡ ʌȡȠıijȠȡઽ IJİIJİȜİ઀ȦțİȞ İੁȢ IJઁ įȚȘȞİț੻Ȣ IJȠઃȢ ਖȖȚĮȗȠȝ੼ȞȠȣȢ. The focus is cultic, not moral nor vocational. We see this cultic nuance also in 7:11 where the author argues that Christ’s achievement put them into a state where they are consecrated, qualified to enter the heavenly temple, which, the author alleged, the Levitical law failed to do (Ƞ੝į੻Ȟ Ȗ੹ȡ ਥIJİȜİ઀ȦıİȞ ੒ ȞંȝȠȢ). The LXX uses IJİȜİȚંȦ to speak of the consecration of priests, but while the cultic is certainly in the background in Hebrews, not least because the goal is entry into the heavenly temple, the sense of priestly consecration does not appear to be present. This is evident in 5:9–10 where Jesus appointment as high priest after the order of Melchisedek is distinct from his being “perfected” and becoming the Į੅IJȚȠȢ of salvation for all who believe in him, though one might see the one as consecration to priesthood and the other as appointment to be high priest. At most there is in the use of this language a sense of the cultic not unrelated to the goal of entry into the heavenly temple. Our conclusion in relation to ethics is therefore negative: in neither the use of the maturity topos of IJİȜİȚંIJȘȢ and IJ੼ȜİȚȠȢ nor the use of the cultic metaphor

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of IJİȜİȚંȦ and the nouns IJİȜİ઀ȦıȚȢ and IJİȜİȚȦIJ੾Ȣ to speak of salvation and its goal do we have to do with ethical categories. They serve to challenge the addressees to be open to a deeper understanding of the faith of their confession and depict that salvation primarily as teleiosis. They serve the author’s purpose in enjoining faithfulness to what they had confessed about Jesus from the beginning as taught to them by their past leaders and being taught them now by their present leaders, and not least the author himself who has produced his creative Atonement Day typology for the purpose. So far we have focused on the positive statements and their ethical import, understood primarily as believing what is in the confession and, because of it, remaining faithful and hopeful even in the face of suffering. These positive statements usually occur alongside negative statements, as in 13:7–17, and these, too, have ethical implications. To begin with the most obvious, the work abounds with warnings and threats about what not to do. In 2:1–4 the warning uses synkrisis, noting punishment for transgression of the word given through angels, the Law (cf. Gal 3:19), and warning how much more severe will be neglect of the word spoken through the Lord. In 3:7–4:11 the author redeploys Psalm 95 to warn about the danger now of failing to reach the heavenly land of promise because of not believing the confession, reinforced with reference to the word of God as like a sword (4:12– 13). Following the appeal to advance to maturity in 5:11–6:3 is the severe warning about the impossibility of a second repentance (6:4–6),86 reinforced with the image of burning of unproductive land (6:7–8), from which the author pulls back somewhat in reassuring his listeners that he does not see them as without hope of salvation, since God would be unjust to overlook the love they showed towards the saints in the past. They should keep it up and “not become sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises” (6:12). In 10:26–31 the author returns to synkrisis, noting the death penalty for those who transgressed the law of Moses, and declaring an even worse fate for punishment for those who have “spurned the Son of God, profaned the blood of the covenant by which they were sanctified, and outraged the Spirit of grace” (10:29), for whom “there no longer remains a sacrifice for sins” (10:26).87 The chapter ends 10:37–39 with reference to “the one who is coming will come and 86

I am not convinced by attempts to explain away the severity of these warnings as only rhetoric or as still allowing a way back. Cf. Barnabas Lindars, The Theology of the Letter to the Hebrews, New Testament Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 107; Fuhrmann, Vergeben und Vergessen, 229–38. 87 Thompson, “Argument and Persuasion,” observes: “The appeal to fear is a common mode of argumentation in Hebrews. (6:4–6; 10:26–31; 12:25–29.) Based on the synkrisis, the author indicates that the greater salvation bears the greater responsibility and results in greater punishment for those who disregard their greater possession. The appeal to fear is a common means of persuasion in antiquity” (p. 371).

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will not delay,” (Hab 2:3), who will bring judgement upon those who shrink back from faith. In 12:16–17 the author uses the example of Esau’s forfeiting his blessing and finding no way to retrieve it to repeat the threat that those who turn aside from faith have no hope. We shall return to our own ethical reflections on the author’s stance, but it is noteworthy that in none of these instances do we find reference to what those turning side might choose as an alternative. In that sense, there is no equivalent here to a “camp” or a “city” as in Hebrews 13. The situation is more complicated when we turn to what are potentially negative statements entailed in the author’s use of synkrisis.88 First, we note that the use of synkrisis usually contrasts the good with the better and in that sense is not polemic.89 In the warnings just considered, for instance, there is no suggestion that the precedent with which the current danger and consequences are compared was invalid. On the contrary, the strength of the warnings depends on their having been valid. 90 Synkrisis, however, had the potential to be negative when in the interests of acclaiming the superior it diminished the inferior, whether intended or not. A good example of the positive contrasts between the good and the better is in the treatment of angels. Angels are not demeaned. They are put in their place according the author’s hierarchy of values and in a way which would not be seen by most as lowering their status. Unless one sees in the author’s reference to angels an allusion not only to their mediation of the Law, as in 2:2, but also

88 On synkrisis, see Neyrey, “Syncrisis and Encomium,” who highlights the headings characteristic of synkrises: “The rhetorical materials about ‘origins,’ ‘training,’ ‘virtuous deeds,’ ‘noble death,’ and ‘noble character,’ … are present here in abundance” (p. 299). 89 Thompson, “Argument and Persuasion,” writes: “Contrary to earlier inter-pretations of Hebrews, the synkrisis (Latin comparatio) does not signal a polemic, but is one of the most widely-used modes of argumentation in Greek rhetorical theory. Synkrisis is a rhetorical device that takes persons, objects, or abstract concepts that are comparable in order to demonstrate either their equality or the superiority of one over the other” (p. 366). “The heavenly cultus (9:1–10:18) and heavenly assembly (12:18–29) are superior to their earthly counterparts. Thus the argument of Hebrews consists of a synkrisis based on the two levels of reality” (p. 367). Similarly, Mason, “Epistle,” writes: “In Hebrews, one finds comparisons between the good things of Judaism and something even better, Jesus. There is no polemic against Judaism” (p. 15). 90 So Mason, “Epistle,” writes: “Consistently the recipients are called to remain faithful and persevere. These calls may be couched in negative terms, but never do they imply regression to some sort of inferior religious commitment, as one might expect if the author views Judaism as such and truly fears they will abandon Christian faith for it. The call always is to maintain Christian faith, not to maintain Christian rather than some other kind of faith” (p. 9).

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to their exercise of power in the light of it, as in Colossians, this has little bearing on ethics. At most, then, they should not fear angels. 91 The contrast with Moses in 3:1–6 depicts him as faithful as a servant in order to set Christ beside him as more than that, namely as Son over the house and by adoption, his siblings as children of the house. This, in fact, diminishes Moses but such diminishment seems unintended. The comparison between Jesus as sympathetic high priest and the sympathetic appointed high priests of old in 5:1–5 does not demean the latter but serves to contrast the Son’s quality, which they lacked, namely his sinlessness. No one claimed they were sinless, too, so this is not negative. The comparison, however, continues in the following two chapters, where the author plays on the fact that Ps 110:4 has God not only declare but make an oath in declaring Jesus a priest forever after the order of Melchisedek. In chapter 7 the comparison elaborates Jesus’ qualities as being of different order of nature such that he was not mortal but like the angelic Melchisedek,92 and exploits the account of Abraham’s giving a tithe to him to argue Abraham’s inferiority and so the inferiority of his descendant, Levi, and so the Levitical priests and high priests. None of what is said about Abraham, Levi, or the Levitical priests to this point is controversial in the sense of going beyond what was known, however tendentious its use. The negative appears in the claim in 7:11, Ǽੁ ȝ੻Ȟ Ƞ੣Ȟ IJİȜİ઀ȦıȚȢ įȚ੹ IJોȢ ȁİȣȚIJȚțોȢ ੂİȡȦı઄ȞȘȢ ਷Ȟ, “Now if teleiosis had been attainable through the Levitical priesthood,” clearly implying: the Levitical priesthood was not able to make teleiosis possible. As we have seen, teleiosis means being brought to the goal of God’s heavenly presence. It is one of the author’s favoured terms for speaking of salvation. The author bases this claim initially on the fact that there is reference to another better order of priesthood. He then declares: ȝİIJĮIJȚșİȝ੼ȞȘȢ Ȗ੹ȡ IJોȢ ੂİȡȦı઄ȞȘȢ ਥȟ ਕȞ੺ȖțȘȢ țĮ੿ ȞંȝȠȣ ȝİIJ੺șİıȚȢ Ȗ઀ȞİIJĮȚ “For when there is a change in the priesthood, there is necessarily a change in the Law as well” (7:12). This follows from the author’s assertion that God had announced there was to be a different priesthood. The change is expressed in terms being a change in the Law not necessarily the setting of the Law aside, an issue to which we shall return. The author reinforces the sense of change by pointing out that Jesus descended not from a priestly line but from the tribe of Judah and was appointed in part on the basis of his being of a different order of being, namely immortal like Melchisedek. 91

Joshua W. Jipp, “The Son’s Entrance into the Heavenly World: The Soteriological Necessity of the Scriptural Catena in Hebrews 1.5–14,” NTS 56 (2010): 557–75, sees the point of the synkrisis with angels as relating to their reputed role in the giving of the Law, their connection to the temporary, in contrast to the heavenly Zion, and their not being the focus of God’s salvific purposes (p. 564). 92 Loader, Sohn und Hoherpriester, 215–20.

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The author returns then to the implications in relation to teleiosis. ਕș੼IJȘıȚȢ ȝ੻Ȟ Ȗ੹ȡ Ȗ઀ȞİIJĮȚ ʌȡȠĮȖȠ઄ıȘȢ ਥȞIJȠȜોȢ įȚ੹ IJઁ Į੝IJોȢ ਕıșİȞ੻Ȣ țĮ੿ ਕȞȦijİȜ੼Ȣ – 19 Ƞ੝į੻Ȟ Ȗ੹ȡ ਥIJİȜİ઀ȦıİȞ ੒ ȞંȝȠȢ – ਥʌİȚıĮȖȦȖ੽ į੻ țȡİ઀IJIJȠȞȠȢ ਥȜʌ઀įȠȢ įȚૅ ਸȢ ਥȖȖ઀ȗȠȝİȞ IJ૶ șİ૶. There is, on the one hand, the abrogation of an earlier commandment because it was weak and ineffectual 19(for the law made nothing perfect); there is, on the other hand, the introduction of a better hope, through which we approach God. (7:18–19)

This is a radical statement. The Law could not achieve teleiosis for people, reaching the goal of God’s presence in heaven. The claim being made here is that the Levitical system enshrined in the Law, the aspect of the Law expected to achieve teleiosis, did not work. This raises many questions, including some with ethical implications. The listeners should accordingly not look to the Levitical priesthood of the Law for teleiosis but look to Jesus. Would it even have been an option, the temple having been destroyed? Is the author’s argument largely academic and of no existential relevance for the addressees other than what it affirms, namely that Christ made teleiosis possible? The matter is not to be dismissed so easily because it does have implications for how the author understood the Law and its role. Is the Law still intact for the author and authoritative, as Eyal Regev, for instance, argues, and the author’s comments relating to only the laws concerning cult and priesthood? 93 What is Law’s role if the aspect of the Law expected to achieve teleiosis could not do so? This is a question of major significance for ethics. Is the author simply addressing the matter of the Levitical priesthood and associated cult in the light of the fact that by his time the temple rituals have ceased and otherwise assuming Torah observance as some have argued or is what we find in Hebrews similar to what we find in the fourth gospel, namely that the basis for ethics, aside from assuming basic prohibitions of murder, theft and adultery, lies in christology and what it portrays as Christ’s commands? 93 Eyal Regev, “What Has Been Changed in the Law of Hebrews?” Bib 98 (2017): 582– 99. He concludes in relation to 7:12: that “in this particular verse Hebrews does not necessarily argue for a general transformation of the Law apart from those laws which concern the cult or priesthood” (p. 589). “The author’s problem with the Jewish Halakhah thus pertains only to the sacrificial cult, which he claims to be transformed” (p. 597). “If Hebrews is dated, as many scholars think, in the 90s, a generation after the Jerusalem Temple and the sacrificial system no longer existed, then there would be no practical contradiction between observing the laws of the Torah that are still practical, and at the same time searching for new modes of atonement instead of the sacrificial cult. In fact, the early rabbis also looked for substitutes for sacrifices in the time after 70 CE. According to certain rabbis active after 70 CE, charity takes the place of some of the festival sacrifices, and even atones for sins” (p. 598). Similarly, Mary Schmitt, “Restructuring Views on Law in Hebrews 7:12,” JBL 128 (2009): 189–201, 189, 196. “The ȞȩȝȠȢ of ch. 7 refers only to the laws pertaining to Levitical priesthood, or, even more specifically, to laws concerning who could become a Levitical priest” (p. 198). Similarly, Wolfgang, Kraus, “Die Bedeutung des Hebräerbriefes für den christlich-jüdischen Dialog,” BZ 65 (2021), forthcoming.

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These questions will accompany our reading of what follows, particularly in the light of what ethical implications might flow from such claims. The remainder of chapter 7 returns to the argument about the Son’s superiority as high priest, having been appointed with an oath, being immortal, being sinless, and being perfected, that is at the goal of God’s presence permanently. That indeed has been the main point of the argument thus far, as 8:1 highlights. Then in chapter 8 the author moves on, emphasising Jesus’ superiority in exercising ministry not in an earthly sanctuary but a heavenly. The contrast, at home in both popular platonic and apocalyptic discourse, has a foothold in the account in Exodus where Moses is allegedly shown a model of the heavenly tabernacle as a pattern for the earthly one (Exod 25:40). In itself, therefore, this contrast need not be negative but fits the model of good and better. The author goes on to assert fault as he introduces a citation of Jer 31:31–34; again, as with the two priesthoods, on the basis that something better is promised. Ǽੁ Ȗ੹ȡ ਲ ʌȡઆIJȘ ਥțİ઀ȞȘ ਷Ȟ ਙȝİȝʌIJȠȢ, Ƞ੝ț ਗȞ įİȣIJ੼ȡĮȢ ਥȗȘIJİ૙IJȠ IJંʌȠȢ. Į੝IJȠઃȢ Ȝ੼ȖİȚǜ …

8

ȝİȝijંȝİȞȠȢ Ȗ੹ȡ

For if that first covenant had been faultless, there would have been no need to look for a second one. 8 God finds fault with them when he says … (8:7–8)

He concludes on a similar note: ਥȞ IJ૶ Ȝ੼ȖİȚȞ țĮȚȞ੽Ȟ ʌİʌĮȜĮ઀ȦțİȞ IJ੽Ȟ ʌȡઆIJȘȞǜ IJઁ į੻ ʌĮȜĮȚȠ઄ȝİȞȠȞ țĮ੿ ȖȘȡ੺ıțȠȞ ਥȖȖઃȢ ਕijĮȞȚıȝȠ૨. 13

In speaking of ‘a new covenant’, he has made the first one obsolete. And what is obsolete and growing old will soon disappear. (8:13)

If we see the reference to “covenant” not as the Old Testament or Judaism but as the Levitical order referred to in chapter 7, 94 then the author is reinforcing his claim made there. What is being set aside here and why, and what are the ethical consequences? The author expands his argument in chapter 9 by first developing the contrast between the earthly and the heavenly temple. As noted above, this can be a positive contrast between the good and the better. The author, however, does not envisage that his listeners should affirm both. Rather he discredits the former. ਸ਼IJȚȢ ʌĮȡĮȕȠȜ੽ İੁȢ IJઁȞ țĮȚȡઁȞ IJઁȞ ਥȞİıIJȘțંIJĮ, țĮșૅ ਴Ȟ į૵ȡ੺ IJİ țĮ੿ șȣı઀ĮȚ ʌȡȠıij੼ȡȠȞIJĮȚ ȝ੽ įȣȞ੺ȝİȞĮȚ țĮIJ੹ ıȣȞİ઀įȘıȚȞ IJİȜİȚ૵ıĮȚ IJઁȞ ȜĮIJȡİ઄ȠȞIJĮ, 10 ȝંȞȠȞ ਥʌ੿ ȕȡઆȝĮıȚȞ țĮ੿ ʌંȝĮıȚȞ țĮ੿ įȚĮijંȡȠȚȢ ȕĮʌIJȚıȝȠ૙Ȣ, įȚțĮȚઆȝĮIJĮ ıĮȡțઁȢ ȝ੼ȤȡȚ țĮȚȡȠ૨ įȚȠȡșઆıİȦȢ ਥʌȚțİ઀ȝİȞĮ. This is a symbol of the present time, during which gifts and sacrifices are offered that cannot perfect the conscience of the worshipper, 10but deal only with food and drink and various baptisms, regulations for the body imposed until the time comes to set things right. (9:9–10)

94

So Kraus, “Bedeutung”;

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I read this as referring not to the pre-70 CE cult95 but to the present age and ȝ੼ȤȡȚ țĮȚȡȠ૨ įȚȠȡșઆıİȦȢ like ਥȖȖઃȢ ਕijĮȞȚıȝȠ૨ in 8:13 as pointing to what has now come to replace them. Accordingly, the author goes on to speak of Christ as high priest of IJ૵Ȟ ȖİȞȠȝ੼ȞȦȞ ਕȖĮș૵Ȟ “the good things that have come” (9:11). At one level, the contrast remains positive, from good to better: įȚ੹ IJોȢ ȝİ઀ȗȠȞȠȢ țĮ੿ IJİȜİȚȠIJ੼ȡĮȢ ıțȘȞોȢ Ƞ੝ ȤİȚȡȠʌȠȚ੾IJȠȣ, IJȠ૨IJૅ ਩ıIJȚȞ Ƞ੝ IJĮ઄IJȘȢ IJોȢ țIJ઀ıİȦȢ, “through the greater and perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation)” (9:11), but, at another level, the better is not to co-exist with the good but replaces it. As in chapter 7, so here, the author depicts the achievements of the old, the good, as relating to foods and washings (9:9), which finds an echo in 13:9 (Ƞ੝ ȕȡઆȝĮıȚȞ ਥȞ ȠੈȢ Ƞ੝ț ੩ijİȜ੾șȘıĮȞ Ƞੂ ʌİȡȚʌĮIJȠ૨ȞIJİȢ “regulations about food, which have not benefited those who observe them”), the categories of more direct relevance in the world of the listeners than those of the tabernacle. Other contrasts follow. Accordingly, the author refers to “the blood of goats and calves” (9:12) and “the blood of goats and bulls, with the sprinkling of the ashes of a heifer” (9:13), as purifying only the flesh, in contrast to the blood of Christ purifying the conscience (9:14). The earthly temple, the Levitical priesthood, and the cultic sacrifices have value only in relation to fleshly purification. This has parallels in the fourth gospel where the author can acknowledge the Law and its provisions as a gift from God (1:16–17) but as having effect only at the level of the flesh and now made redundant by the new gift which has come in its place.96 There is a delicate dance going on of distancing and discrediting, on the one hand, while at the same time, on the other, of claiming continuity by depicting the old as foreshadowing the new, though in itself of little worth.97 This was all the more significant because of the value put on ancient heritage and laws over against the new. The author continues with such contrasts, referring to the link between death and inheritance and Moses’ rite of sprinkling blood at the giving of

95

Cf. Lane, Hebrews, liii–lxvi, who argues that the book was addressed to a Jewish house church estranged from the broader Roman Christian leadership and dates the book between the aftermath of the Roman fire in 64 C.E. and Nero’s suicide four years later. Randall C. Gleason, “The Eschatology of The Warning in Hebrews 10:26–31,” TynBul 53 (2002), 97– 120, who sees the listeners facing the immediate threat of the Jewish war and Roman invasion. 96 On the attitude of the fourth evangelist to the Law, see William R. G. Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel: Structure and Issues in Johannine Christology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017), 443–52; and William R. G. Loader, “The Law and Ethics in John’s Gospel,” in Rethinking the Ethics of John. “Implicit Ethics” in the Johannine Writings. ed. Jan G. van der Watt and Ruben Zimmermann (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 143–58, and in this volume, pp. 239–53. 97 Filtvedt, Identity, observes that “the ambiguities created through the tension between newness and continuity, are not finally resolved in Hebrews” (p. 263).

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commandments, and setting Christ’s death as settling atonement once and for all at a superior level. He begins chapter 10 restating his premise concerning the status of the Law, in particular in relation to the cult, declaring that “the law has only a shadow of the good things to come and not the true form of these realities” (10:1). The vertical and the horizontal are important. It is a shadow of the real above and a foreshadowing of what has now come. As in 7:11, 19, the author repeats that the Law was not able to offer teleiosis. ȈțȚ੹Ȟ Ȗ੹ȡ ਩ȤȦȞ ੒ ȞંȝȠȢ IJ૵Ȟ ȝİȜȜંȞIJȦȞ ਕȖĮș૵Ȟ, Ƞ੝ț Į੝IJ੽Ȟ IJ੽Ȟ İੁțંȞĮ IJ૵Ȟ ʌȡĮȖȝ੺IJȦȞ, țĮIJૅ ਥȞȚĮȣIJઁȞ IJĮ૙Ȣ Į੝IJĮ૙Ȣ șȣı઀ĮȚȢ ਘȢ ʌȡȠıij੼ȡȠȣıȚȞ İੁȢ IJઁ įȚȘȞİț੻Ȣ Ƞ੝į੼ʌȠIJİ į઄ȞĮIJĮȚ IJȠઃȢ ʌȡȠıİȡȤȠȝ੼ȞȠȣȢ IJİȜİȚ૵ıĮȚǜ Since the law has only a shadow of the good things to come and not the true form of these realities, it can never, by the same sacrifices that are continually offered year after year, make perfect those who approach. (10:1–2)

The author uses their repeatability to argue that such sacrifices were ineffective, as in 7:18, declaring in addition: “For it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins” (10:4). He then cites Psalm 40 partly to make a positive statement about Christ’s coming, but partly to use its potential to place sacrifices in a negative light in an absolute sense, unlike in the Psalm: ‫ݸ‬ȜȠțĮȣIJެȝĮIJĮ țĮ‫ ޥ‬ʌİȡ‫ܼ ޥ‬ȝĮȡIJަĮȢ Ƞ‫ރ‬ț İ‫ރ‬įިțȘıĮȢ. “In burnt-offerings and sinofferings you have taken no pleasure” (10:6), and so explains: ਕȞઆIJİȡȠȞ Ȝ੼ȖȦȞ ੖IJȚ șȣıަĮȢ țĮ‫ ޥ‬ʌȡȠıijȠȡ‫ޟ‬Ȣ țĮ੿ ‫ݸ‬ȜȠțĮȣIJެȝĮIJĮ țĮ‫ ޥ‬ʌİȡ‫ܼ ޥ‬ȝĮȡIJަĮȢ Ƞ‫ރ‬ț ‫ݗ‬ș‫ޢ‬ȜȘıĮȢ Ƞ‫ރ‬į‫ ޡ‬İ‫ރ‬įިțȘıĮȢ, Į੆IJȚȞİȢ țĮIJ੹ ȞંȝȠȞ ʌȡȠıij੼ȡȠȞIJĮȚ, 9 IJંIJİ İ੅ȡȘțİȞǜ ‫ݧ‬įȠީ ‫ݜ‬țȦ IJȠࠎ ʌȠȚ߱ıĮȚ IJާ ș‫ޢ‬ȜȘȝ‫ ޠ‬ıȠȣ. ਕȞĮȚȡİ૙ IJઁ ʌȡ૵IJȠȞ ੆ȞĮ IJઁ įİ઄IJİȡȠȞ ıIJ੾ıૉ. When he said above, ‘You have neither desired nor taken pleasure in sacrifices and offerings and burnt-offerings and sin-offerings’ (these are offered according to the law), 9 then he added, ‘See, I have come to do your will.’ He abolishes the first in order to establish the second. (10:8–9)

Accordingly, in relation to sins the author concludes: “Where there is forgiveness of these, there is no longer any offering for sin” (10:18). The use of synkrisis by the author thus sometimes follows the pattern of good and better but sometimes goes beyond that. 98 In particular, in relation to the cult, while never denying that it was given by God, as the Law was given by God, nevertheless declares it was incapable of achieving what for the author is at the heart of his gospel, namely teleiosis, being brought into the heavenly 98 Cf. Gudrun Holtz, “Besser und doch gleich – Zur doppelten Hermeneutik des Hebräerbriefes,” KD 58 (2012): 159–77, who writes: “So sehr der Hebr das ‘Besser’ und ‘Mehr’ von Person und Werk Jesu Christi in den Vordergrund steht, so wenig bedeutet dies die Abwertung der aus dem Alten Testament zum Vergleich herangezogenen Gestalten und Einrichtungen; im Gegenteil. Der Hebr zeigt an anerkanntermaßen Großem die noch größere Würde Jesu Christi auf. Auch dies gehört zu den Kennzeichen der comparatio, wie sie Aristoteles beschrieben hat” (p. 176).

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presence of God. He assumes, however, that the cult was the basis in the Law for approaching God and declares that it could achieve only temporary limited access for most to the outer courts of the temple and, importantly, could not offer forgiveness of sins. This amounts therefore to a seriously negative contrast which diminishes not only the significance of the cult to dealing with what was a shadow of the real in the heavenly world and foreshadowing of the new reality which has come in Christ. It also diminishes the significance of the Law. Accordingly, the faithful of Israel’s past, whom the author hails as models of faith to be imitated, had no salvation as the author understands it, that is, not through the cult nor through anything else in the Law. 99 Accordingly, they did not reach the telos of their faith journey, their teleiosis, until Christ came who alone made it possible. That is an extraordinary disqualification of the Law. ȀĮ੿ Ƞ੤IJȠȚ ʌ੺ȞIJİȢ ȝĮȡIJȣȡȘș੼ȞIJİȢ įȚ੹ IJોȢ ʌ઀ıIJİȦȢ Ƞ੝ț ਥțȠȝ઀ıĮȞIJȠ IJ੽Ȟ ਥʌĮȖȖİȜ઀ĮȞ, șİȠ૨ ʌİȡ੿ ਲȝ૵Ȟ țȡİ૙IJIJંȞ IJȚ ʌȡȠȕȜİȥĮȝ੼ȞȠȣ, ੆ȞĮ ȝ੽ ȤȦȡ੿Ȣ ਲȝ૵Ȟ IJİȜİȚȦș૵ıȚȞ.

40

IJȠ૨

Yet all these, though they were commended for their faith, did not receive what was promised, 40since God had provided something better so that they would not, without us, be made perfect. (11:39–40)

The author engages in a final contrast in chapter 12, coming at the climax of his argumentation and forming an inclusio with its beginning:100 ȅ੝ Ȗ੹ȡ ʌȡȠıİȜȘȜ઄șĮIJİ ȥȘȜĮijȦȝ੼Ȟ૳ țĮ੿ țİțĮȣȝ੼Ȟ૳ ʌȣȡ੿ țĮ੿ ȖȞંij૳ țĮ੿ ȗંij૳ țĮ੿ șȣ੼ȜȜૉ 19 țĮ੿ ı੺ȜʌȚȖȖȠȢ ਵȤ૳ țĮ੿ ijȦȞૌ ૧Șȝ੺IJȦȞ, ਸȢ Ƞੂ ਕțȠ઄ıĮȞIJİȢ ʌĮȡૉIJ੾ıĮȞIJȠ ȝ੽ ʌȡȠıIJİșોȞĮȚ Į੝IJȠ૙Ȣ ȜંȖȠȞ, 20 Ƞ੝ț ਩ijİȡȠȞ Ȗ੹ȡ IJઁ įȚĮıIJİȜȜંȝİȞȠȞǜ țਗȞ șȘȡ઀ȠȞ ș઀Ȗૉ IJȠ૨ ੕ȡȠȣȢ, ȜȚșȠȕȠȜȘș੾ıİIJĮȚǜ 21 țĮ઀, Ƞ੢IJȦȢ ijȠȕİȡઁȞ ਷Ȟ IJઁ ijĮȞIJĮȗંȝİȞȠȞ, ȂȦȨıોȢ İੇʌİȞǜ ‫ݏ‬țijȠȕިȢ İ‫ݧ‬ȝȚ țĮ੿ ਩ȞIJȡȠȝȠȢ. You have not come to something that can be touched, a blazing fire, and darkness, and gloom, and a tempest, 19and the sound of a trumpet, and a voice whose words made the hearers beg that not another word be spoken to them. 20 (For they could not endure the order

99 Filtvedt, Identity, recognises an exclusivity because of the emphasis on Jesus, and that the author in effect delegitimises key identity markers, including not only the levitical priesthood, but also Sinai, the covenant, the temple, Jerusalem, the land of Judea, and political nationhood (p. 264), arguing that this goes beyond the type of inner Jewish conflicts known elsewhere (p. 265). 100 Kiwoong Son, Zion Symbolism in Hebrews: Hebrews 12:18–24 as a Hermeneutical Key to the Epistle (Waynesboro: Paternoster, 2007), who believes that the summarizing character and rhetorical structure of Sinai and Zion reveals that most of the author’s main arguments are compacted together in this small section, and thus it could be said that Hebrews 12:18–29 functions as a little epistle within the epistle (p. 84). See also Lukas Stolz, Der Höhepunkt des Hebräerbriefs. Hebräer 12,18–29 und seine Bedeutung für die Struktur und die Theologie des Hebräerbriefs, WUNT 2. 463 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2018), who emphasises the close connection it establishes between worship and ethics (pp. 346–47).

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that was given, “If even an animal touches the mountain, it shall be stoned to death.” 21 Indeed, so terrifying was the sight that Moses said, “I tremble with fear”). (12:18–20)

This hardly qualifies as a good beside a better,101 even if the author is not beyond sometimes seeking to frighten his listeners into submission through threats of fire. The positive contrast is striking: ਕȜȜ੹ ʌȡȠıİȜȘȜ઄șĮIJİ ȈȚઅȞ ੕ȡİȚ țĮ੿ ʌંȜİȚ șİȠ૨ ȗ૵ȞIJȠȢ, ੉İȡȠȣıĮȜ੽ȝ ਥʌȠȣȡĮȞ઀૳, țĮ੿ ȝȣȡȚ੺ıȚȞ ਕȖȖ੼ȜȦȞ, ʌĮȞȘȖ઄ȡİȚ 23 țĮ੿ ਥțțȜȘı઀઺ ʌȡȦIJȠIJંțȦȞ ਕʌȠȖİȖȡĮȝȝ੼ȞȦȞ ਥȞ Ƞ੝ȡĮȞȠ૙Ȣ țĮ੿ țȡȚIJૌ șİ૶ ʌ੺ȞIJȦȞ țĮ੿ ʌȞİ઄ȝĮıȚȞ įȚțĮ઀ȦȞ IJİIJİȜİȚȦȝ੼ȞȦȞ 24 țĮ੿ įȚĮș੾țȘȢ Ȟ੼ĮȢ ȝİı઀IJૉ ੉ȘıȠ૨ țĮ੿ Į੆ȝĮIJȚ ૧ĮȞIJȚıȝȠ૨ țȡİ૙IJIJȠȞ ȜĮȜȠ૨ȞIJȚ ʌĮȡ੹ IJઁȞ ਢȕİȜ. But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable angels in festal gathering, 23and to the assembly of the firstborn who are enrolled in heaven, and to God the judge of all, and to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, 24 and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel. (12:22–24)

They are yet to enter the heavenly city, unlike the spirits of the faithful righteous now having teleiosis, 102 but clearly the author intends a positive

101

Hulisani Ramantswana, “Mount Sinai and Mount Zion: Discontinuity and Continuity in the book of Hebrews,” Luce Verbi 47 (2013): 1–9, writes: “For the author of Hebrews, the new covenant stands in continuity with the old covenant in its discontinuity of the old. The new covenant supersedes the old covenant and replaces it” (p. 8). See also Matthew Thiessen, “Hebrews and the End of the Exodus,” NovT 49 (2007): 353–69, who sees the author rereading Israel’s history to encourage the community to understand “that it is not at an initial stage in the exodus such as Sinai (12:18–21) but has drawn near to the promised city of Zion, the city of God’s rest” (p. 369). 102 I agree with Nicholas J. Moore, “Heaven’s Revolving Door? Cosmology, Entrance, and Approach in Hebrews,” BBR 29 (2019): 187–207, in his assessment of speculation about mysticism in Hebrews that the language of approach here (ʌȡȠıȑȡȤȠȝĮȚ) is not to be confused with the same as the language of entry (İੁıȑȡȤȠȝĮȚ), in agreement with Scholer, Proleptic Priests, 91–184 (p. 187). Moore writes: “To see Heb 6:18–20 as an affirmation of believers’ entry into the heavenly sanctuary, then, is unjustified. Indeed, this is to misread the imagery of these verses, which speaks of something and someone entering so that we, although we have not yet entered, may nevertheless have confidence that the benefits of that entrance avail us (the anchor) and that we will enter at some – as yet unspecified – point (the forerunner)” (p. 198). The same applies to their approaching Mt Zion. Cf. Paul Ellingworth, The Epistle to the Hebrews. A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 677–78; Cockerill, Hebrews, 651–53; Scott D. Mackie, “Heavenly Sanctuary Mysticism in the Epistle to the Hebrews,” JTS 62 (2011): 77–117; Scott D. Mackie “‘Let us draw near … but not too near’: A Critique of the Attempted Distinction between ‘Drawing Near’ and ‘Entering’ in Hebrews’ Entry Exhortations,” Listen, Understand, Obey: Essays on Hebrews in Honor of Gareth Lee Cockerill, ed. Caleb T. Friedeman (Oregon: Pickwick, 2017), 17–36; Jody A. Barnard, The Mysticism of Hebrews. Exploring the Role of Jewish Apocalyptic Mysticism in the Epistle to the Hebrews, WUNT 2.331 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012).

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contrast here over against the depiction of Sinai. The focus has moved here from concern with the cultus to more broadly the way of approach to God. The ethical implications of these contrasts are that to refuse the better is to court divine judgement but also that to embrace the former cult and its Law is to fail to recognise its inferior and temporary character and so to be without hope of teleiosis. In effect, the author uses the replacement of the cult in the past to argue that the Law was and is not able to make teleiosis possible and by extension this calls into question is authority as a basis for ethics.

Concluding Reflections on Ethics and Hebrews In this final section I will seek to address ethical issues which arise from this analysis. Why in addressing a community facing the prospect of suffering does the author give such attention to the status of the old order? How does this relate to the options being faced by those confronting suffering? Why, if a return to Judaism were the main temptation, does this fail to appear in the series of warnings? Is it feasible to argue that the author sees himself and his community as engaged in inner Jewish argument and conflict, such as we see evident in sectarian documents at Qumran? Why do we find nothing about mission to gentiles or good news for the poor in the wider community? In affirming his faith has the author engaged in distortion and disparagement of the Jewish heritage with which he is so familiar, at least through scripture? What is the point of citing scripture if people are wanting to slip back into paganism? Aside from the prospect of suffering what other dangers are on the horizon and, in particular, how does this relate to the substantive arguments? The author envisages a situation where his listeners face the prospect of suffering, almost certainly at the hands of civil authorities. Already some are in prison and they have suffered severely in the past. The ethical response for which he calls is solidarity, ijȚȜĮįİȜij઀Į, caring for one another, sticking together, avoiding the devastating disruption of sexual wrongdoing, especially adulterous behaviour, expressing hospitality where needed, perhaps including some seeking refuge from suffering, taking the risk of visiting those imprisoned, and learning to live with limited possessions, if not directly in poverty. They are not to cease doing these things and especially they are not to give up their faith and hope. These themes of Hebrews 13:1–6 are the underlying themes also of the work as a whole. The primary argument of the work is to seek to enhance their faith and hope, beginning with emphasis on Jesus’ heavenly intercession for them as they face adversity on their journey because as pioneer on that journey he faced the same, so that he offered not just a model to be imitated, but is now engaged in being responsive to their need. Holding fast to their confession also means holding fast to the belief that through his sacrifice he opened the pathway for them to reach salvation, understood as reaching the goal of the journey in God’s

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presence in the heavenly world. Following a standard pattern of faith spirituality, that means they have been qualified to approach God now while still on their journey and can look forward one day to enter the holy presence in the heavenly sanctum. Such belief is fundamental for their faith, which includes not only believing but letting it stimulate and support their faithfulness in holding to the path. The alternative is to slacken off, withdraw from meeting and mutual support, abandon prisoners, and high moral standards, and lose hope. The author clearly sees that as a danger alongside the dangers posed by actions of authorities. The two are, of course, closely related. One of the author’s strategies for addressing the situation is to issues warnings, including that if they give up, they are lost forever. There is no way back. Some warnings offer supportive evidence by pointing to what the Law prescribed for transgression, a kind of synkrisis of bad to worse. The assumption appears to be that the listeners would give credence to the Law. Otherwise, the warnings never go beyond threats for those who abandon their faith. In particular, we find no reference in these warnings to what options those who abandon their faith might take. The issue comes up also in relation to Christ’s facing suffering as an example where he refused under its pressure to yield to the temptation to give up. Had he given up, what would that have meant? What were his options? The author does not address this. His suffering outside the camp, the city, as touched on in 13:12–14, offers no answer. We might then be satisfied to describe the author’s intent as primarily to enhance faith and confidence in the face of adversity and bolster it with warnings of severe consequence at the hands of God the judge if they buckle under adversity and cease to be followers.103 This, however, is not enough. If I am about to give up my faith, including my respect for scripture, does it make sense for you to quote scripture to me? Why would the author consider it relevant to engage in elaborate synkrises between what the Law offered and what the confession asserted? Asking for consistency here may be unrealistic. One can imagine a conflicted person grappling with uncertainties, who might 103

So Weiss, Hebräer, 735–36; Erich Grässer, An die Hebräer, 3 vols., EKK 17 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1993, 1993, 1997), 1.26; Mason, “Epistle,” who writes: “The theological danger is apathy and ultimately renunciation of faith, not an attraction to Judaism. The author appeals exegetically to the sacred texts he shares with his readers in his attempt to warn while also encouraging. Since Israel’s story is also their story, he finds there models of both weal and woe” (p. 20); Matthew J. Mahrol, Faithfulness and the Purpose of Hebrews. A Social Identity Approach (Eugene: Pickwick, 2008), argues that the problem was that they had a negative social identity with a lack of group cohesion and were in danger not of moving to another religion, for which there were too many restraints (pp. 184–87). Accordingly, the author’s purpose was “to provide internal constraints limiting the addressees’ desire for social mobility” and uses “social creativity to redefine the value attached to faithfulness” (p. 192). deSilva, Despising Shame, writes of their “pedestrian inability to live within the lower status that Christian associations had forced upon them” (p. 19).

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at the same time be entertaining faith and unfaith. Appeals to scripture might just tip them back to faith. Is this the author’s assumption? This, too, is not enough. For, as we have seen, the synkrises go beyond an argument from good to better. They sometimes deliberately reduce the value of the good. Why would you do that, indeed, do so so extensively, if you are primarily dealing with people for whom such arguments are irrelevant anyway because they are contemplating giving up their faith, including its biblical heritage?104 The author’s depiction of what the Law provided apparently had existential relevance for his listeners.105 He was telling them, however, that it could not give them teleiosis, salvation, forgiveness of sins, but dealt with matters purely at a fleshly level. He does so, while at the same time acknowledging that the Law had divine authority. What was incapable of bringing salvation nevertheless foreshadowed what would do so, namely Christ’s sacrifice and his making teleiosis possible, namely entry into God’s presence in the heavenly sanctum. Using a combination of apocalyptic and popular platonic dualism he relegates the old to the preliminary and the mere earthly reflection of the heavenly reality but still insists it had divine origins. The initial synkrisis foreshadows what is to come and carries by implication already this juxtaposition of distancing and claim to continuity.

104 Kraus, “Absicht,” rightly observes: “Welche Funktion hat der Briefteil Hebr 7, 1–10, 18? Hebr 10, 19 könnte problemlos an 6, 20 anknüpfen. Die Ursache fur die breiten Ausführungen muss in einer Fragestellung liegen, die in der Gemeinde virulent war” (p. 268). “Heidenchristen gegenüber müsste m. E. anders argumentiert werden. Es muss sich um Menschen handeln, die jüdisch geprägt waren (p. 269). See also Kraus, “Wer soll das verstehen?”: “Es muss sich beim Autor um jemanden handeln, der nicht nur in der jüdischen oder judenchristlichen Tradition bewandert ist, sondern der zu argumentieren gelernt hat, wie es im antiken Judentum üblich war. Ihm nur Kenntnis der Überlieferung zu attestieren, ist nicht ausreichend” (p. 293). In Wolfgang Kraus, “Zur Aufnahme und Funktion von Gen 14,18–20 und Ps 109 LXX im Hebräerbrief,” in Text – Textgeschichte – Textwirkung. Festschrift für Siegfried Kreuzer zum 65. Geburtstag, ed. Thomas Wagner, Jonathan Miles Robker, and Frank Ueberschaer, AOAT 419 (Münster: Ugarit, 2014), 459–74, he rightly questions whether “soziale Ausgrenzung” is a sufficient explanation for chapters 7–10 (pp. 459–60). Similarly, Kraus, “Wen der Herr liebhat,” 428–29; cf. deSilva, Despising Shame, 19. 105 deSilva, Despising Shame, acknowledges: “The author of Hebrew clearly reveals a subcultural relationship to Jewish culture” (p. 319). Thompson, “Argument and Persuasion,” notes that “the argument from Scripture is pervasive in Hebrews. At one level, the argument from Scripture distinguishes the rhetoric of Hebrews and other Christian writers from the accepted rhetorical practices of antiquity, for the teachers of rhetoric did not conceive of texts with a privileged status as revelation” (p. 369). Filtvedt, Identity, notes that the author acknowledges, for instance, God’s promise to Abraham, but reinterprets it to refer to the heavenly world, so that Israel’s traditions as the people of God are ‘‘filtered’ through the Christ event” (p. 262). “Hebrews is not adequately understood as supplementing the old order with a new one, or as renewing the old order, it should rather be understood as supplanting something old with something new” (p. 263).

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ȆȠȜȣȝİȡ૵Ȣ țĮ੿ ʌȠȜȣIJȡંʌȦȢ ʌ੺ȜĮȚ ੒ șİઁȢ ȜĮȜ੾ıĮȢ IJȠ૙Ȣ ʌĮIJȡ੺ıȚȞ ਥȞ IJȠ૙Ȣ ʌȡȠij੾IJĮȚȢ ਥıȤ੺IJȠȣ IJ૵Ȟ ਲȝİȡ૵Ȟ IJȠ઄IJȦȞ ਥȜ੺ȜȘıİȞ ਲȝ૙Ȟ ਥȞ ȣੂ૶.

2

ਥʌૅ

Long ago God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets, 2but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son. (1:1–2a)

Why? The answer for some, as we have seen, is that the listeners were tempted in the face of suffering to find shelter in returning to Judaism, represented by the camp and the city in 13:13–14. That is too simple, though not surprising, given what the author has written. Some would also be converted Gentiles. We have argued that the author must have deemed especially the negative synkrises as having existential relevance. They went beyond critique of the temple authorities and the system as in the sectarian documents at Qumran106 and in what were criticisms attributed to the historical Jesus (e.g., Mark 11:15–17; 12:38–40; Luke 10:25–37). They also went beyond just coming to terms with the destruction of the temple in 70 CE107 and, as we have shown, they went beyond just dealing with one aspect of the Law, namely the provisions relating to the levitical priesthood and the cult. They were dealing with something as fundamental as what achieves forgiveness of sins, redemption, teleiosis, without which there is no hope and the author makes it clear that he believes that these became possible only and exclusively because of the word spoken through the Son in the last days, as the exordium makes clear (1:1). Even the faithful of old, hailed as righteous, lacked the essential element made possible only through Christ’s death according to the author and could reach their teleiosis only through his achievement (11:39– 40). As already noted, this was a balancing act, not unique to the author. On the one hand, these Christ-believers felt they had to assert that only they had the message of salvation. Only they had a gospel offering forgiveness and hope. This was a claim of monopoly that disqualified all others. On the other hand, they had to ward off the suggestion that they had abandoned what for many directly or indirectly was the faith of their forbears. Notions of salvation history, therefore, combined with apocalyptic eschatology and popular platonism, to make it possible for them to claim, nevertheless, a continuity between what they could not deny had been given by God and what God had

106

Cf. Kraus, “Bedeutung.” Cf. Gabriella Gelardini, “Verhärtet eure Herzen nicht”. Der Hebräer, eine Synagogenhomilie zu Tischa be-Aw, BibInt 83 (Leiden: Brill, 2007), who argues that Hebrews was an ancient synagogue homily associated with the Jewish fast day Tisha be-Av, addressed to Jewish slaves in Rome to help them deal with the loss of the cult (pp. 319, 325); Gabriella Gelardini, “Hebrews, An Ancient Synagogue Homily for Tisha be-Av: Its Function, Its Basis, Its Theological Interpretation,” in Hebrews: Contemporary Methods, New Insights, ed. Gabriella Gelardini, BIS 75 (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 107–27. 107

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given to replace it.108 Such is also the thinking in the fourth gospel.109 The old was not to be disparaged, even if it was at the level of the flesh and was best numerically symbolised, for instance, by the number six in the six jars (John 2:6). We can imagine that the issue of continuity and discontinuity will have played a part in the author’s concerns. What he argued was designed to reassure. This need not mean that such people were on the brink of converting across to some (other?) form of Judaism. It is, nevertheless, entirely feasible that for some this was an option, 110 especially if it sheltered them from suffering.111 What kind of Judaism might offer them shelter? We are probably to think of local synagogues. The author’s reference twice to foods and washings (9:9–10; 13:9) probably indicates at least some elements of what was a typical concern or issue of contention. The assertion that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever, might indicate that they were also Christbelievers who found themselves at home in the synagogue, perhaps with some similarity to the belief system being confronted in Colossians or Galatians. We do not know enough. It does mean that the challenge to come outside the camp and the city might have more direct relevance for some who might contemplate such a move. Embedding faith in such systems was to abandon the confession for a compromised christology and so to turn away from true faith. In terms of ethics, the listeners are not only to be supportive of one another, courageous and determined in the face of the prospect of suffering, but also to be alert to the danger of competing faith claims based on an assessment of what for some will have been their faith heritage and which the author refutes. They have an ethical responsibility according to the author to hold to what he sees as true. The confession about Christ was the same for ever, not to be changed. Truth can be the casualty of conflict and propaganda. Jews of the author’s time outside his movement would surely have rejected his depiction of their faith.112 The author’s assertion that forgiveness, salvation, teleiosis, became possible only through Jesus’ death was not new. It belonged to his tradition and had arisen from what were initially attempts to come to terms with and 108

As Knut Backhaus, “Der Hebräerbrief: Potential und Profil,” in Der sprechende Gott, Gesammelte Studien zum Hebräerbrief, WUNT 240 (Tübingen, Mohr Siebeck, 2009), 1–19, observes, the notion of a new order must have taken place after the community has separated from Judaism, which would have raised for them the salvation-historical issues of continuity and legitimacy of their existence (p. 15). 109 Loader, “Law and Ethics”, chapter 14 in this volume. 110 Cockerill, Hebrews, sees its mention only at end in Hebrews 13 because Hebrews 1– 12 partly prepared for it, but also because was not at the centre of his concerns (p. 694). 111 Karrer, Hebräer 1, speculates that the author’s concern was to help the community having separated from Judaism to profile itself within the society as a legitimate religious community which had “einen eigenen Kult und von Priestern vollzogene Opfer” (p. 87) and that the issue was not Judaism but separation from pagan deities (p. 88). 112 Filtvedt, Identity, reflecting on what outsider Jews would have thought (p. 264), concludes: they would find it unacceptable, though the author felt it was (pp. 268–69).

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appreciate the impact of Jesus’ death but in the hands of some had become an exclusive claim, probably in the face of conflict with competing claims in the context of mission: you have no salvation, no forgiveness. 113 In that sense such claims misrepresented what is evident in the tradition about the faith of Jesus, John the Baptist, and biblical writers, namely that God’s forgiveness is available to those who repent. In highlighting the positive truth about God’s offer of teleiosis through his selective development of Atonement Day typology the author has gone beyond this to reduce the value of what went before to mere earthly copies of the real and mere foreshadowings of the future, given by God, indeed, but at most to point beyond themselves to the real. In that sense the author’s undertaking is itself ethically problematic.114 There are, of course, other ethically problematic aspects to the work, including the declarations that those abandoning the faith may have no way back, perhaps more despair than doctrine, the use of an unhelpful model of the punishing parent to console sufferers by declaring that God initiates or uses suffering, and, in general, the sometimes violent images of God. The assumption that this world, while still seen as God’s creation, is nevertheless something to escape and soon (most of it) to be destroyed can lead to diminishing its value, and in modern times justify neglect of such matters a climate change. The negative stance reflects dualism but also negative experience, typical of how for centuries many ordinary people experienced life, quite apart from the author and his listeners’ situation of living with the prospect of personal danger. Some have berated the author’s inward-looking stance and noted absence of reference to outreach in mission, for instance to gentiles, let alone, mission to be good news for the poor.115 The latter had, 113

On the monopoly claims of the emerging movement, see William R. G. Loader, “Forgiveness Monopoly? Identity Formation and Demarcation in the Jesus Movement,” in Tempel, Lehrhaus, Synagoge. Orte jüdischen Gottesdienstes, Lernens und Lebens. Festschrift für Wolfgang Kraus, ed. Christian Eberhart, Martin Karrer, Siegfried Kreuzer, and Martin Meiser (Paderborn: Schöningh, 2020), 351–64. 114 Thus, for instance, Susan Haber, “From Priestly Torah to Christ Cultus: The Re-Vision of Covenant and Cult in Hebrews,” JSNT 28 (2005): 105–24, sees Hebrews as “a conscious attempt to separate and individuate from the parent religion by highlighting the superiority of the new order over the old, and driving an irrevocable wedge between Judaism and the nascent Christian community” (p. 124), which entails considerable misrepresentation. She writes of the author deliberately shifting the focus of the Atonement Day rite from sin to ritual impurity, from sprinkled blood to ashes of the red heifer, blurring daily and annual rites (pp. 155–56), bypassing detail not suited to his purpose such as “the longer accounts in Exod 40:9, 11 and Lev 8:10–11” of the consecration of the temple in favour of Num 7:1 “because they speak not of blood but oil” (pp. 146, 148) and bypassing the promise of eternal Aaronic priesthood in Exod 40:12–15 (p.150). 115 Braun, Hebräer, points to the shift from loving one’s neighbour and enemy in the Synoptic Gospels to a narrowed focus on brotherly love as in John and paralleled at Qumran (p. 449). Moffitt, “Perseverance, Purity, and Identity,” notes the lack of interest in outsiders or mission (p. 358), accounting for it in part by their sense of living in the last days (p. 359).

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however, mostly taken the form of good news for the poor who join the people of God in line with the poor as originally Israel.116 Given the plight of the listeners facing the prospect of suffering, the absence of mention of outreach into the wider community in evangelism or social caring is not surprising. Nevertheless, despite its proleptic focus on believers in expounding the Son of Man’s solidarity in becoming incarnate, the use of Psalm 8 still allows us to see divine compassion for humanity, just as “God so loved the world” in John 3:16 has to be set alongside the focus there primarily on love for one another within the believing Johannine community.117 The developed focus on Christ’s sense of solidarity with his own reflects values of compassion and care, by implication also an ethical model to be emulated. The author can on the basis of his values deem God’s action “fitting” (2:10)118 and even makes the judgement that “God is not unjust; he will not overlook your work and the love that you showed for his sake in serving the saints, as you still do” (6:10). It is also questionable to take what the author feels he must say about the past in order to encourage believers in their faith in his context and make the assumption that he really did view the faithful of the past as so deprived as his arguments would indicate. For the same author clearly cites their texts as his texts with authority for prediction and description,119 though notably nowhere Backhaus, “Ethik,” 217–18, notes the Sachkritik of Hebrews, citing Rudolf Bultmann, Theologie des Neuen Testaments, (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1977), 113–14, 517–19, who saw it as the product of Spekulationslust, and Wolfgang Schrenk, “Die Paränese Hebr 13,16 im Kontext des Hebräerbriefes – Eine Fallstudie semiotisch-orientierter Textinterpretation und Sachkritik,” ST 39 (1985), 73–106, who argued that it narrowed the message of love to a Stoic inspired, inward looking Dankbarkeitsethik, with a focus on obeying leaders. Backhaus notes that the focus of Hebrews is not individual ethics, nor outreach, but the community and its stability (pp. 224–25). 116 Loader, “Good News for the Poor,” 472–73, chapter 12 in this volume, pp. 217–18. 117 Loader, Jesus in John’s Gospel, 290–91. 118 Thompson, “Argument and Persuasion,” notes that “in 2:10 and 7:26 the author argues from what is fitting (ʌȡȑʌİȚȞ). Closely related to the argument from what is fitting is the argument that ‘it is necessary’ (7:12, 27; 8:3; 9:16, 23) and the statement that ‘it is impossible’ (ȐįȣȞĮIJȠȞ, 6:4; 6:18; 10:4; 11:6). The sacrifice of Jesus was both ‘fitting’ (2:10; 7:26) and ‘necessary’ (9:16, 23) because it is ‘impossible’ for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins (10:4). This claim points to an understanding of a generic principle that the author assumes will be convincing to the readers. The author’s connection to GrecoRoman rhetoric is most transparent at this point, for the appeal to the possible, the necessary, and the fitting were basic to ancient argumentation” (p. 372). 119 As deSilva, “Invention and Argumentative Function,” notes: “While the author is willing to discard the priestly rites of the first covenant, these remain authoritative templates for the new covenant rites. Their liturgies are archetypal, as are the arrangements of sacred space and the process of selecting the ‘staff.’ The new rites, sacred spaces, and priestly staff must reenact those types, whence the argumentative uses of the topic of ‘necessity’ in Heb 8:3 and 9:23” (p. 323). Thompson, “Argument and Persuasion,” writes: “The argument of Hebrews would not have been persuasive to the general population of a Greco-Roman city,

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as a basis for ethical instruction.120 The basis for ethical instruction is as in the fourth gospel christological, the Son’s solidarity with his own and their need to be solidarity with one another, no longer the Law. The situational character of his response is to be taken seriously, which has shaped attitude over the centuries. We should hesitate to generalise beyond it. He is not writing an assessment of the faithful of old but seeking to sure up the faithful of the present, though indirectly at the expense of their image of the former. He places the ethical imperatives of faithful and mutually supportive discipleship in the context of the indicative of a God who invites relationship and worship in the present and promises help to reach the goal of entering ultimate rest, entry into God’s holiest presence on high. It remains the case that there is little ethical instruction in Hebrews.121 What we have in its conclusion, typical of the closing section of most epistles, is a set of instructions designed to boost solidarity among the listeners as they face the prospect of suffering. This includes that they should love one another, welcome those seeking refuge, not engage in behaviour that undermines solidarity, such as adultery and sexual wrongdoing, and learn to put up with limited means, if not poverty, not least by caring for one another. The author uses the babe-maturity topos not to address issues of ethical maturity but to challenge his listeners to a better understanding of why they can be confident in what they have always confessed about Jesus. That is not to be changed and is also why they need not have self-doubts about the faith they have in relation to the faith they once espoused. There is the comfort of a sense of continuity despite the at times sharp discontinuity which the author depicts, not least by denying that it could effect teleiosis, i.e. make forgiveness of sins and salvation possible. While we can see that this stands in tension with what Jesus, John the Baptist and wider Judaism proclaimed, he probably did not recognise this but was standing in a well-established mission strategy of the movement which sought to win followers by claiming monopoly of access to God. For some this would for the author proceeded from assumptions about God, Scripture, and the Christ event that were not widely accepted. However, the argumentative strategies were commonplace in Greco-Roman literature” (p. 377). Kraus, “Absicht,” writes: “Alles, was der Autor ausführt, begründet er aus der Schrift. Wenn diese Argumentation überzeugend sein soll, setzt das m. E. voraus, dass die Adressaten dieses hohe Ansehen der Schrift ebenfalls teilten” (p. 270); similarly, Kraus “Wer soll das verstehen?” (p. 293). 120 Thus Filtvedt, Identity, notes the absence of focus on circumcision, Sabbath, festivals, food, and ancestry, and of injunctions to keep the Law (p. 265), rightly observing that Hebrews is not an example of covenantal nomism (p. 266). 121 As Mackie, Eschatology, notes, Hebrews is paraklesis rather than paraenesis, with a major focus on teaching rather than ethics (p. 22). Similarly, Victor (Sung Yul) Rhee, Faith in Hebrews. Analysis within the Context of Christology, Eschatology, and Ethics (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2019). Marquis, “Perfection Perfected,” notes that Hebrews is “rather vague” about ethical content, not unlike Stoics in the school’s classical period, who were mostly “theorizing about a perfected virtuous faculty” (p. 204).

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counter their contemplating joining a form of that faith which held to an understanding of Jesus which was accommodated to the old. The author’s faith embodied also an implied ethic, for it assumed divine love initiated both the old and the new and inspired the Son’s solidarity with his siblings not only in coming to their rescue but also in continuing to pray for them as they were going through what he, too, had experienced, namely suffering the temptation to escape it by departing from faith’s way. The extensive attention to Jewish heritage combined with the relative safety given its faith helps suggest that departing from faith’s path must have meant for some not melting into urban paganism but finding a safe faith place where they could retain their respect for scripture and for Jesus in modified form. We might raise questions about the author’s ethics in doing what he did, including his understanding of God and his misrepresentations and selectiveness in treating the old. As with the fourth gospel, we may find ourselves affirming what the author affirms and denying what he denies and resisting the tendency to harmonise by reading tolerance into their texts where it is not. Such willingness to acknowledge light and shade, inspiration and human foibles, belongs to proper respect in all relationships, including therefore our engagement with the ancient texts of faith.

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List of First Publications Thanks are due to the publishers who have given approval for the republication of the following book chapters and journal articles. They are largely unchanged aside from minor changes to produce common formatting across the volume. “The Central Structure of Johannine Christology,” New Testament Studies 30 (1984): 188– 216. “Wisdom and Logos Traditions in Judaism and John’s Christology.” Pages 303–34 in Reading the Gospel of John’s Christology as Jewish Messianism: Royal, Prophetic, and Divine Messiahs. Edited by Benjamin Reynolds and Gabrielle Boccaccini. AJEC 106. Leiden: Brill, 2018. “John 1:51 and Johannine Christology.” Pages 119–32 in The Opening of John’s Narrative (John 1:19–2:22): Historical, Literary, and Theological Readings from the Colloquium Ioanneum 2015 in Ephesus. Edited by R. Alan Culpepper and Jörg Frey. WUNT 385. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017. “John 3:13–15: Re-examining the Exaltation-Glorification-Ascension Nexus in John.” Pages 51–69 in Expressions of the Johannine Kerygma in John 2:23–5:18. Historical, Literary, and Theological Readings from the Colloquium Ioanneum 2017 in Jerusalem. Edited by R. Alan Culpepper and Jörg Frey. WUNT 423. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2019. “John 5,19–47: A Deviation from Envoy Christology.” Pages 149–64 in Studies in the Gospel of John and Its Christology: Festschrift Gilbert van Belle. Edited by Joseph Verheyden, Geert van Oyen, Michael Labahn, and Reimund Bieringer. BETL 265. Leuven: Peeters, 2014. “What is ‘finished’? Revisiting Tensions in the Structure of Johannine Christology.” Pages 457–68 in The Death of Jesus in the Fourth Gospel. Edited by G. van Belle. BETL 200. Leuven: Peeters, 2007. “The Significance of the Prologue for Understanding John’s Soteriology.” Pages 45–55 in The Prologue of the Gospel of John: Its Literary, Theological, and Philosophical Contexts. Papers read at the Colloquium Ioanneum 2013. Edited by Jan G. van der Watt, R. Alan Culpepper, and Udo Schnelle. WUNT 359. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016. “Tensions in Matthean and Johannine Soteriology Viewed in Their Jewish Context.” Pages 175–88 in Jesus and Judaism: A Contested Relationship in Context. Edited by R. Alan Culpepper and Paul N. Anderson. SBLRBS 87. Atlanta: SBL, 2017. “Matthew and John: Two Different Responses to a Similar Situation.” Pages 185–97 in The Gospel of Matthew in Its Historical and Theological Context. Papers from the International Conference in Moscow, September 24 to 28, 2018. Edited by Mikhail Seleznev, William R. G. Loader, and Karl-Wilhelm Niebuhr. WUNT 459. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2021. “Competing Spiritualities: Reflections on John 6 in Global Perspective.” Pages 275–89 in Matthew, Paul, and Others: Asian Perspectives on New Testament Themes. Edited by William Loader, Boris Repschinski, and Eric Wong. Innsbruck: Innsbruck University Press, 2019. “Soteriology and Spirituality in John 6: A Reflection on Key Issues in Johannine Theology.” Pages 199–213 in Signs and Discourses in John 5 and 6. Historical, Literary, and

410

First Publications

Theological Readings from the Colloquium Ioanneum 2019 Eisenach. Edited by Jörg Frey and Craig R. Koester. WUNT 463. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2021. “What Happened to ‘Good News for the Poor’ in the Johannine Tradition?” Pages 469–80 in John, Jesus, and History. Vol. 3. Glimpses of Jesus through the Johannine Lens. Edited by Paul N. Anderson, Felix Just, and Tom Thatcher. ECL 18. Atlanta: SBL, 2016. “The Significance of 2:15–17 for Understanding the Ethics of 1 John.” Pages 223–36 in Communities in Dispute: Current Scholarship on the Johannine Epistles. The McAfee Symposium on the Johannine Epistles. Edited by Paul N. Anderson and R. Alan Culpepper. Atlanta: SBL, 2014. “The Law and Ethics in John’s Gospel.” Pages 143–58 in Rethinking the Ethics of John. “Implicit Ethics” in the Johannine Writings. Kontexte und Normen neutestamentlicher Ethik / Contexts and Norms of New Testament Ethics. Volume III. Edited by Jan G. van der Watt and Ruben Zimmermann. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012. “The Significance of 1:14–18 for Understanding John’s Approach to Law and Ethics.” Review of Rabbinic Judaism 19 (2016): 194–201. “Dissent and Disparagement: Dealing with Conflict and the Pain of Rejection in the Gospel According to John.” HTS 77(2) (2021): a6570. https://doi. org/10.4102/hts.v77i2.6570. “The People of God, the Old Order and the Old Testament in the Epistle to the Hebrews.” Trinity Occasional Papers 3 (1985): 68–77. “Revisiting High Priesthood Christology in Hebrews.” ZNW 109 (2018): 235–83. “Ethics in Hebrews: Faith in Danger.” Previously unpublished.

Index of Ancient Sources Old Testament Genesis 1:26 2:3 3:6 14 15:1, 4 18:1–15 19:1–14 26:34–35; 27:46 28:12 35:22; 49:4 Exodus 3:14 19:7–19 20:11 20:13–14 LXX 24:3–8 25:40 33:7–23 34:6 40:9, 11–15

44 64, 242 231 284 57 342 342 348 76, 80, 81 343

124 79 64, 242 343 312 368 58, 249, 258–59 58–59, 146, 249, 258 300

Leviticus 7:33–36 8:10–11 24:9

357 300 357

Numbers 6:30 7:1 7:14 18:8–11 19 21

357 300 334 357 301 89

Deuteronomy 4:12

269

8:2–3 8:5; 11:2 32:35

189, 205 347 283

Judges 6:11–21 13:3–23

342 342

1 Samuel 15:1

58

2 Samuel 7:14

54, 347

2 Kings 4:42–43

188

Job 28

53

Psalms 2:7 8:5–7 8:5–6 8:7 21:23 LXX 34:21 36:10 40:7–9 44:7–8 LXX 45:6–7 69 82 89:27 95 95:11 101:26 LXX

54, 66, 282, 291, 305, 318 349 4 3–5, 291, 305, 309, 352 352 132 62, 247 286, 296, 370 3 54, 66, 305, 318 86 65, 122, 243 54, 66, 305, 318 282, 346, 350, 364 283 3, 318

412 102 106:14 110:1

Index of Ancient Sources

117:6 119:105 146:7–8

3 230 3, 4, 5, 291, 293, 305, 309, 315, 319, 333, 352 5, 284–85, 292–93, 319, 323, 332–34, 366 344 70 214

Proverbs 3:11–12 8:22 8:30–31 18:4 20:16

283, 347 72 51 62, 247 342

Ecclesiastes 4:8

226

110:4

Isaiah 2:2–4 5:16 6:10 8:17–18 9:6–7 11:1–5 12:2 25:6–8 29:9 29:18 33:10 35:5, 6 38:4 42

219 94 272 352 67 67 62, 247 219 272 214 94 58 169

42:1 42:18–19 43:11–12 45:25 52:7 52:13 53 53:7 54:13 55:1 56:6–8 56:10 60:1–3 61:1–2 61:5–6

161 272 124 94 214–15 35, 43, 93 35, 177 161 192, 270 70 219 272 219 214 219

Jeremiah 1:2, 4, 11 20:30 31:18 31:31–34

58 347 347 282, 368

Ezekiel 36:25 LXX 47:1–12

301 62, 247

Daniel 7:13–14

43, 45

Habakkuk 2:3 2:5

364 226

Zechariah 12:10 14:7, 8

85, 90 62, 247

Old Testament Apocrypha Tobit 1:7, 17 4:16 12 13:9–17 Judith

217 217 342 217

9:11

217

Wisdom 2:6–9 2:23 5:8 7:22

233 309 226 51

413

Index of Ancient Sources 7:24–28 9:1–2 16:26 17:7 18:14–16

51 53 189, 205 226 53

26:8 31:25–32:13 43:31 51:13–30 51:23–26 51:26

23329:23 342 233 58 51 70, 168, 260 55

51 50 50 50 50 50 50 50 233 50 226 51 231 52, 141, 185, 206, 247, 260 51 58

Baruch 3:9 3:29–4:2 4:1

52 58, 141, 247, 260 53, 185

1 Esdras 4:13–25

259, 317

2 Esdras/4 Ezra 5:13

83

2 Maccabees 6:12–16 7 9:8 15:6

347 177 226 226

24:3

53

24:8–12 24:8 24:9 24:19–20 24:23

49, 52 58 72 169, 185 52, 169, 185

4 Maccabees 8:19 13:21, 23, 26 14:1–13, 21 15:10, 14

226 341 341 341

Ben Sira / Sirach 1:4, 9–10 1:20–23 2:16–16 5:1–23 6:23–35 7:6–27 8:1–21 9:1–6 9:9 9:13–18 14:8 14:20–27 23:4–6 24:1–22 24:1–3 24:3–10, 19–23

Old Testament Pseudepigrapha Apocalypse of Moses 8:4 149 19:3 230 Apocalypse of Sedrach 4–5 309 3 Baruch 1:6; 2:6; 5:3

83

1 Enoch 14:18–20 37:1–2 42:1–2

319 69 49, 50, 52, 56–58,

45:3 46:4–5 47:3 48:10–49:2 55:4 60:2 61:8 62:2–3, 5 69:13–25 69:27, 29 94:5

141, 185, 206, 247, 260, 265 172 233 69, 172 67 172 69, 172 172 172 58 69 69

414 Jubilees 7:7–24 25:1 33:2–8

Index of Ancient Sources

231 348 343

Testament of Moses 7:1–4 233 Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs

Life of Adam and Eve 10–16:47 309

Testament of Reuben 343

Psalms of Solomon 11:1 10:6 17:21–29 18:2–3

214 214, 217 67 214, 217

Testament of Levi 18:2–3

Pseudo-Aristeas 210

64

334

Testament of Judah 24 334 Testament of Issachar 5:2 341

Pseudo-Phocylides 6 342

Testament of Gad 4:2; 6:1

Testament of Abraham 342–43

Testament of Benjamin 3:4 341

341

New Testament Matthew 1:21 3:2 3:6 3:7–10 3:10–12 3:11 3:17 4:12–13 4:17 4:23 5:3–12 5:17–20 5:17–19 5:18–20 5:18 5:20 5:21–48 6:1–18 6:9–13 6:14–15

151, 163 155, 170, 176 12, 155, 176 266 170 176 169 281 170, 176 172 170 170, 171, 256 56, 276 155, 277 67 177 171, 172, 219 219 177 177

6:23 7:21–23 7:29 9:2–8 9:35 10:7 10:9 10:15 10:17 10:39 10:40–41 10:40 11:2–6 11:5 11:19 11:21–23 11:25–26 11:27 11:28–30 12:1–14 12:1–8

226 171 172 154, 155, 177 172 42, 176 42 42 172 42 342 41 170 214–15 55, 260 42 42, 43 41–47, 170 55, 169, 256, 260 55 169

415

Index of Ancient Sources 12:9–14 12:9 13:31–32 13:42 12:18–21 13:52, 54 16:16–18 19:12 19:16–22 19:28 20:15 20:28 21:42 23:2 23:23 23:34 23:34–36 23:37 25:23 24:26–27, 37–44 25:31–46 25:31 25:35–36 26:28 27:24–25 28:18

169 172 219 83 169, 170 172 43 228 155, 177 69 226 151, 177 172 172 67, 171 172, 260 55 55 69 45 170, 172, 219 69, 81, 83, 172 342, 344 12, 108, 152, 163, 177, 305 305 43, 44, 46

Mark 1:4 1:8 1:15 1:22 2–3 2:1–12 2:5–10 2:23–28 3:1–6 4:10–12 4:30–32 6:50 7:1–23 7:1–5 7:22 8:27–30 8:29–31 8:34–35 8:36–37 8:38

12, 176, 188 176 155, 176 172 169 154 177, 188 169 169 71 219 184 275 60, 240 226 192 70 42 219 81, 83

9:37 10:17–22 10:23–31 10:45

14:57–61 14:62

41 219 219 12, 54, 129, 144, 151, 177 68 376 177 68 54 225 376 219 226 69, 83 219, 222 177 129, 144, 152, 177, 305 68 69, 70

Luke 1:50–55, 68–80 1:77 2:25, 38 3:3 3:7–9 4:16–20 4:18 6:20–21 6:24–25 7:22 7:35 7:47 10:8, 17, 20 10:9, 11 10:12, 13–15 10:16 10:22 10:25–37 11:20 11:34 11:42 11:49–51 13:18–19 13:33–34 16 16:17

219 188 219 188 2665 214, 219 54 213 219 214–15 55 188 42 42 42 41 41 376 215 226 68 55, 260 219 219 219 67, 276

11:1–25 11:15–17 11:25 12:1–12 12:6 12:25 12:38–40 12:40–44 12:44 13:26 14:3–9 14:22 14:24

416 17:21 17:33 21:26, 28 22:20 22:27 22:30 23:51 24:21 John 1:1–18 1:1–3 1:1 1:4 1:5 1:6–8 1:9–10 1:10–13 1:11 1:12–13 1:14–18 1:14, 18 1:14 1:15 1:16–17

1:16 1:17 1:18

1:19–51 1:19–34 1:29–34 1:29, 35 1:29

1:31 1:33–34 1:33 1:41 1:45 1:49

Index of Ancient Sources 215 42 219 305 129 216 219 219

39 3, 65, 124 147 158, 258 248, 258, 265, 271 57, 142, 250, 258– 59 57, 260 50, 260, 265, 267, 271 185 57, 62, 63, 142, 266, 342 60, 79, 83, 87, 255– 62 24, 36 57, 58, 59, 87, 245 250 59, 62, 114, 142, 173, 185, 189, 248, 275, 335, 369 174, 256 58, 60, 241, 244 20, 59, 65, 67, 123, 124, 142, 147, 149, 207, 268 132 23, 132 250 33 12, 90, 91, 131, 132, 143, 152, 159– 63, 199 84 210 21, 23 132 241, 258 132

1:50–51 1:51 2:1–10 2:4 2:6–10 2:6 2:11 2:13–22 2;13–14 2:16–17 2:16 2:17–22 2:18 2:19–21 2:21 2:22 2:23–25 3:1–11 3:1–8 3:1–3 3:2 3:3–8 3:3, 5 3:3 3;6 3:8 3:11 3:12–21 3:12–15 3:12 3:13–15 3:13 3:14–15 3:15 3:16

3:17–18 3:18–19 3:19–21 3:20

24, 31, 70, 75–88, 103, 133, 245 9, 25, 33, 69 257 24, 26, 29, 87 60 240, 377 36 223 61, 241 61, 240 244, 257 24, 61, 69 68 58, 244, 257 68 30, 86, 129, 134, 159, 201, 221 62, 83, 190, 266, 268, 270 24, 175 258 190 19, 268 63, 246 42, 62 19, 266 62 19, 20 11, 20, 28, 105, 159, 202, 266 133 31 24, 85, 101, 102, 106, 109 9, 69, 89–109 20, 69, 85, 133, 187, 249 31, 44, 85, 133, 153, 157, 162, 202 25, 33, 36, 44 25, 41, 107, 108, 133, 202, 222, 267, 379 107, 108, 133 65, 89 71, 107, 133, 192, 267–68, 273 271

Index of Ancient Sources 3:25 3:27 3:27–36 3:27–30 3:28–30 3:31–36 3:32–35 3:32–33 3:34 3:35 3:36 4:9 4:10–14 4:15 4:19–24 4:20–23 4:21–24 4:21–22 4:21, 23 4:21 4:22 4:23–24 4:23 4:25–26 4:25 4:29 4;32 4:34 4:39 4:46–54 4:53 5:1–18 5:1 5:3 5:8–10, 16 5:9 5:16–28 5:16 5:17–30 5:17–19 5:17 5:18 5:19–47 5:19–24 5:20 5:21–29 5:21

19 21 250 23 19, 121 8, 19–22, 23, 105, 128 265 266–67, 271 210 10 36, 267 61, 241 174 268 257 244–45 58, 119 241 23 134 175, 264 246 61, 107, 134, 202 23 61 268 224 11, 23, 129, 144, 157, 206 268 223 268 68 61, 241 224 64, 242 115 65 115 244, 272 65, 135, 257, 261 242 68, 269 111–25 20 26, 31 26 36, 86

5:22–23 5:23 5:24, 25 5:24 5:25–27 5:25 5:26–29 5:27 5:28–29 5:30 5:31–37 5:31–32 5:33 5:37 5:38 5:39–40

5:44 5:45–47 6 6:2 6:4 6:5–7 6:14–15 6:20 6:25–29 6:26 6:27

6:29–40 6:30–35 6:30 6:32–33 6:32 6:35, 42, 48, 51 6:35 6:37 6:39–44 6:39–40, 44, 54 6:41 6:42 6:44 6:45

417 21, 36 107 36 65, 135, 149 65 202 36 31, 44 44, 65, 131, 149, 221 36 269 22 250 20, 249, 269 20, 269 63, 145, 174, 175, 205, 250, 257, 258, 268–69 269 63, 258, 269 181–93 190 61, 241 223 23, 84, 190–92, 269–70 26 26, 189 269 22, 26, 31, 36, 92, 132, 157, 162, 187, 196, 201, 202 23, 257 269 186 62, 145, 175, 185, 258 174, 205, 246, 257, 269 63 181, 183 192, 270 149 65, 131 183, 191, 270 184 192, 270 192, 270

418 6:46 6:48–51 6:48 6:51–58

6:51 6:53 6:59 6:60–71 6:60 6:62

6:63 6:64–65 6:65 6:66 6:69 6:70–71 7:1–13 7:2–5 7:6–8 7:6, 8, 30 7:6 7:7 7:7–12 7:8–9 7:12 7:19–24 7:20 7:25–31 7:27–29 7:28–29 7:30 7:32–52 7:33–36 7:37–39 7:39

7:40–42 7:50–51 8:12–30 8:12–19 8:12

Index of Ancient Sources 20, 65, 249 258 184 12, 91, 133, 157, 186–87, 191, 196, 201, 202, 208 90, 131, 133, 152, 196–98, 270 26, 31, 36, 132, 162 192 26 191 26, 31, 69, 85, 102, 104, 162, 191, 246, 258, 275 175 270 21, 192 192 192 192, 272 27 270 103 87 29 270 265 61, 241 270 64, 174, 243, 257, 261 270 27 23 8 27, 29 27 27, 95 44, 62, 92, 134, 157, 246 27, 30, 31, 32, 36, 95, 129, 134, 146, 159, 202 23 61 270 8 62, 63, 258

8:13–14 8:14 8:16 8:17 8:20 8:21–24 8:26 8:28–29 8:28 8:29 8:31–47 8:32 8:34 8:35 8:37 8:44 8:48 9:4 9:5 9:17, 22 9:17 9:22 9:35–41 9:35 9:39–41 9:39 9:42 10:1–21 10:7, 9 10:11, 14, 17 10:11, 15 10:14 10:15 10:17–18 10:17 10:22–42 10:24 10:25, 30, 36, 38 10:28–29 10:30 10:31–39 10:32 10:33 10:34 10:36 10:37–38 10:37 10:38

22 20, 27 123 64, 244, 257 27, 29, 87 95 22 33 27, 31, 87, 90, 95 123 270 270 115, 231 117 271 63, 270 271 64, 159, 242, 257, 261 63, 258 33 68 68, 174, 272 27, 31, 36 33 271 36 273 27 63 12, 63, 90, 153 131, 197 41 33 131, 153 44, 143, 162, 197 27, 64, 257 24 24 121, 272 116, 121, 243, 272 68, 115, 121, 243 122 65, 243, 272 64, 241, 243 21, 157 20 24 122

Index of Ancient Sources 11:4, 40 11:4 11:25 11:27 11:42 11:47–53 11:49–50 11:50–52 11:50–51 11:51 11:55 12:4–6 12:9–11 12:12 12:16

12:19 12:20–23 12:20 12:23–24 12:23, 34 12:23 12:24 12:25–26 12:25 12:26 12:27–36 12:27–28 12:27 12:28–29 12:28 12:31–40 12:31–34 12:31 12:32–34 12:32 12:33 12:34 12:35–36 12:36–43 12:39–40 12:41 12:42 12:44–50 12:46 12:48–50

27 36 63, 258 27 21 272 12 131, 153, 157, 199 33, 90, 143 61, 241 61, 241 223 272 61, 241 27, 30, 36, 87, 95, 129, 134, 146, 159, 202, 221 86 28, 30, 86 94 203 9 29, 30, 31, 36, 69, 86, 87, 94, 133, 146 30, 86, 94, 133, 146 86 42 123, 149, 221 28 87 30 34 30 31 29, 30, 31, 86, 203 12, 36, 69, 91, 134, 146, 158, 200, 221 90, 133 30, 92, 94, 146 30 31, 92, 241 258 272 71, 271 30 62, 272 8, 128 258 20

12:48 13:1–17 13:1–2 13:1 13:2 13:3 13;8 13:10 13:18 13:20 13:29 13:31–38 13:31–33 13:31–32 13:33 13:34–35 13:36 13:37 14:1–11 14:1–3 14:3–5 14:3 14:5 14;6 14:7 14:7–11 14:10–11 14:10 14:12–31 14:12–17 14:12 14:15 14:16–17 14:16 14:17 14:18–26 14;20 14:23 14:26–28 14:26 14:28 14:30 15:1–17 15;1, 5 15:3 15:8

419 65 261 158 28, 30, 87, 157 272 8, 10, 19, 20, 21, 22, 28 61 143 272 39, 41 224 28 30, 31 9, 28, 36, 69, 86, 87, 96, 99, 146 95, 123, 149 64, 237, 249, 261 123 12, 197 28 149 34 149 34 63, 65, 186, 258–59 65 20, 34, 122 123 20 28 146, 158 32, 34, 41, 86, 102, 122 122 122, 209 32, 34, 44 134, 147 122 122 122 34 134, 159 86 134, 158 163 63 143 30

420 15:9–17 15:13

15:15, 21–24 15:16 15:25 15:26 16:2 16:4–6 16:5 16:6–7 16:7–14 16:8–11 16:11 16:12–15 16:16–33 16:16–28 16:27–28 16:32 16:33 17:1–5 17:1 17:2 17:3–4 17:3 17:4, 6, 14 17:4 17:5 17:6 17:7–8 17:8, 14 17:8 17:11, 13 17:12 17:13 17:17–19 17:17 17:18, 22, 26 17:19 17:20–21 17:21–23 17:21, 23, 25 17:24

Index of Ancient Sources 64, 249, 261 12, 33, 44, 90, 131, 143, 162, 163, 197– 98 34, 272 272 71, 240 32, 34, 159 68, 174, 264, 272 34 87 34 32, 34 95, 158, 207 12, 91, 134, 135, 146, 200, 221 159 34 123 8 107, 123 91, 158, 200 9, 11, 30, 32, 34, 72, 99 86, 87, 88, 96 21 144 21, 149 34 21, 43, 129, 157, 206 31, 36, 72, 87, 88, 96 272 8 20 21 34, 272 272 87 157 143 34 143, 199 272 122, 125 21 82, 86, 88, 96, 123, 149, 272

18:14 18:28 18:31 18:32 18:37 19:3 19:7 19:11 19:15 19:30 19:31 19:34 19:36 19:37 19:40, 42 20:17 20:21 20:30–31 20:31

153, 199 61, 143 61, 241 90 24 29 273 21 272 11, 21, 24, 144, 153, 157, 206 61, 241, 261 153 42, 143 85, 90 61, 241, 261 102 122, 130 146 18, 23, 66, 84

Acts 1:6–8 2:41 2:33, 38 2:33 2:36 2:44–45 3:1–10 3:19–21 4:4 3:20 5:28 5:31 6:14 7:55–56 14:11–13 15:1–2, 5 19:11–20 20:7 20:28 28:7

219 219 43, 44 92 54 220 218 219 219 54 305 33, 43, 44, 92 68 44, 46, 83 340 68 218 220 306 342

Romans 1:3–5 1:3 1:4 1:6–8 2:25–29

319 54 4, 324 216 60, 240

421

Index of Ancient Sources 3:25 5:9 5:15–16 7:1–6 7:7 8:3 8:14–17 8:17 8:28 8:32 8:34–39 8:34 9:32–42 10:32–35 11:7–10, 25 11:17 12:3–21 12:10–13 12:10 13:6–12 13:8 13:13 14:8–10 15:16 15:25–32 1 Corinthians 1:18–25 1:24, 30 2:8 3:1–3 3:16–17 6:10 6:19 7:7 7:31 8:6 10:16 11:25 13 15:20–28 16:1–4 2 Corinthians 3:1–3 3:14 6:1–18 6:14 7:15

305 305 218 68 231 91 342 43 342 91, 161 4 5, 291–92, 332 218 218 71 218 220 342 342 218 253 233 218 219 219

32 54 311 360 69 233 69, 54 228 228 39 305 305 220 4, 291, 309 219

113 71 69 348 342

8–9

219

Galatians 1:4 1:15–16 2:1–5 2:11–12 2:20 3:19–20 3:26 4:4–5 4:6–7 5:2–12 5:14 5:21 5:22–23

91 43 68 68 91 284, 364 342 54, 91 342 68 253 233 220

Ephesians 1:7 2:13 1:20–23 2:5–6 2:14–15 5:25

305 305 5, 291 4 68 91

Philippians 2:6–11 2:9 2:10–11

35, 39, 44, 46 44, 92 81

Colossians 1:15–20 1:15–17 1:15, 18 1:20 2:10, 15

3, 4, 39, 291 54, 72 342 305 4

1 Thessalonians 4:1–6 4:9

343 342

1 Timothy 3:2 3:16 5:8–10 6:17–19

342 43 220 220

Titus 1:8

342

422 Hebrews 1:1–5 1:1–3 1:1 1:2–4 1:2–3 1:3–8 1:3–6 1:3 1:4–14 1:4–6 1:5 1:6 1:8–9 1:10–12 1:10 1:13 2:1–4 2:2 2:7–8 2:7–9 2:9 2:10–15 2:10 2:11–18 2:11–13 2:11 2:13 2:14–15 2:14 2:16 2:17–3:2 2:17–18 2:17 2:18 3:1–6 3:1 3:6 3:7–4:11 3:7–11 3:14 4:1–11 4:12–13 4:14–16 4:14 4:15 4:16

Index of Ancient Sources

323 54, 282, 319, 376 276 283, 309 2, 39, 291 335 3, 81 6, 44, 301, 311, 331 284 54 54, 291, 342 3, 54 3, 54, 309 3, 291, 309, 319 3 3 282, 284, 287, 364 365 3 5 6, 309, 349 5 309, 349–50, 352, 362, 379 349 309 352 340 6, 307–11, 316 340 309 316 4, 5, 320–22 6, 295, 352 276, 349–50 284, 366 340, 360 352, 354 364 281 340 283 281, 364 5, 276, 322, 326, 350 316, 340, 350, 360 282 350

5:1–10 5:1–5 5:1–3 5:4–5 5:5–10 5:5 5:6 5:7–9 5:7–8 5:9–10 5:11–6:3 5:11–14 5:11 6:1 6:4–6 6:6 6:7–8 6:10 6:12 6:19–20 7:1–10 7:3 7:11–19 7;11 7:12 7:13–14 7:16 7:18–19 7:18 7:20–22 7:23–25 7:25 7:26–28 7:26 7:27 7:28 8:1–6 8:1–2 8:2 8:3 8:4 8:6–13 8:7–13 8:7–8 8:7 8:13 9:1–7 9:7

5 366 282, 322 282 6 43, 54, 291, 322 282 362 322, 350–51 323, 325, 363 364 361 284, 361 361 364 317 364 351, 379 360, 364 324, 351, 359 284 293 285–87 284, 366, 370 366 285 363 281, 285, 363, 366– 67, 370 60, 240, 277, 302 285 285 5, 276, 325, 351 285 44 301 362 285–86, 325–26 352 282 303 297 282 285–87 368 285 368 286 282

423

Index of Ancient Sources 9:8 9:9–10 9:10 9:11–14 9:11–12 9:12 9:13–14 9:13 9:14 9:15–22 9:15 9:23–28 9:23 9:25–26 9:26 9:27–28 10:1–4 10:1 10:2 10:4 10:5–10 10:5–6 10:5 10:8–9 10:9–10 10:9 10:11 10:12 10;14 10:15–18 10:18 10:19–25 10:19–22 10:20 10:22 10:23–25 10:25 10:26–31 10:37–39 10:30 10:32–34 11:8–16 11:25–37 11:28 11:39–40 11:39

286–87 286–88, 363, 368– 69, 377 282 286, 311 6, 282, 361, 369 6, 294, 296, 298, 325, 369 289, 369 301 286, 296, 301 286, 312 282, 296, 311–12 286 295, 297, 301, 313– 14 298 313–14 313–15 287, 314 363, 369–70 287, 370 60, 240, 370 286, 296 292, 370 6 370 315 282, 286 287 287, 301, 315 363 287 370 287, 326 302, 315–16, 360 296, 299, 359 301 316, 348–49, 360 345 287, 364 364 283 345 283 346 308 287, 363, 371, 376 277, 283

12:1–2 12:4 12:5–6 12:13 12:14 12:15–17 12:18–24 12:23 12:24 12:25, 27–28 12:28–29 13:1–6 13:1–3 13:1 13:4 13:5–6 13:7–17 13:7 13:8 13:9–14 13:9 13:10 13:11 13:12–14 13:12–13 13:12 13:13–14 13:13 13:14 13:15–16 13:17 13:18 13:20 13:23

283, 324, 346–47 347 283 347 348 287–88, 364 287, 371–73 283, 287, 363 297, 301, 318 287 355 338–53, 373 236 355–56 337, 348 342 353–73 353, 360 354, 357 355–56, 358–59 287, 354–56, 369, 377 356–57 299, 356 374 356 296, 317 376 357 356–57 355–56 353, 355, 360 344 298, 329 344

James 1:9–10 2:1–9 2:1–7 4:16 5:1–6

220 220 236 226 220

1 Peter 1:2 1:19 1:21 1:22 3:8

306 306 43 342 342

424

Index of Ancient Sources

3:18–22 3:22 4:3 4:13

4, 291 81 233 43

2 Peter 1:7

342

1 John 1:7 1:17 2:1–2 2:2 2:8 2:9–11 2:12–14 2:15–17 2:18–27 2:18–19 2:22–23 3:5 3:8 3:11–18 3:12 3:16 3:17

41, 198, 306 342 6, 41, 198, 291, 296, 322 41 228 228, 231 234 223, 225–37 235 235 235 162, 198 41 261 71 41, 198 223, 226, 236–37,

4:1–6 4:3 4:4–5 4:10 4:14 5:4–5 5:5–6 5:21

341, 342 234 235 235 41, 198 41 234, 235 235 234

2 John 7 10

235 113, 342

3 John 10

113, 342

Revelation 1:5 1:13 4:1 5:9 7:14 13:16–17 17:1–6 18:3, 9

306, 342 5, 44, 46, 333 83 306 306 220 233 233

Dead Sea Scrolls Damascus Document IV, 17 231 VI, 7 62, 247 VII, 19–20 334 1QpHab XII, 3, 6, 10

213–14

XIII, 14; XIV, 4–8 213–14 4Q171/4QpPsa 1–10 II, 10 1–10 III, 10

213–14 213–14

4Q174/4QFlor 1–2 I, 1–13 1–2 I, 2b–4

67 68

1Q28/1QS III, 13–IV, 26 VIII, 4b–7a IX, 5–6

274 68 68

4Q521/4QMessianic Apocalypse 2 II + 4 5–13 214

1Q33/1QM XI, 13

213–14

11Q13/11QMelchisedek 5, 214

425

Index of Ancient Sources

Philo and Josephus Josephus Antiquitates judaicae 4.26 341

Legatio ad Gaium 87 341 196 340 312 232

Philo De Abrahamo 135

232

De agricutura 37–38 51 133–135 160

232 53, 72 232 232

De cherubim 86–89 92

64 232

De mutatione nominum 253–263 189, 205

De confusione 146

53, 72

De opificio mundi 158 232

De vita contemplativa 53–56 232 De decalogo 28 153

231 231

Quod deterius potiori insidari soleat 144–146 340 In Flaccum 136

232

De fuga et inventione 35 233 50–51 52 Quod Deus sit immutabilis 15 233 Legum allegoriae 1.5–6 2.29, 33 3.165 3.207–208

64 232 342 53

De migratione Abrahami 5–6 53 83 53 89–92 168 De vita Mosis 1.28 2.23–24 2.185

233 233 232

De posteritate Caini 135 231 145 59, 259 De praemiis et poeniis 119 340 Quaestiones et solutiones in Genesin 1.12 233 2.12 232 2.62 53 4.200 341 4.241, 245 348 De sacrificiis Abelis et Caini 21–44 52 49 233 De somniis 1.85–86 1.122–125 1.229–230 2.147

52 232 53 232, 233

De specialibus legibus 1.148, 150 232

426 1.192 1.193 2.18–19 2.147 2.163 3.114

Index of Ancient Sources 232 232 233 52 233 233

4.84–85

231

De virtutibus 80 182 208

341 233 233

Rabbinic and Related Literature Mishnah Nedarim 3:11 Parah 3:1 Shabbat 18:3; 19:2–3 Sukkah 4 Tosefta Shabbat 15, 16

64 301 64 247

Babylonian Talmud Yoma 85b 64 Genesis Rabbah 11.5, 11, 12 68.12

64 76

Mekilta Shabbat 2:25

64

64

Graeco-Roman Literature Aristotle Ethica nicomachea 1161b30–35 340 Cicero De officiis 1.7.24 Democritus FVS 1.440

341

340

Dio Chrysostom Oratio 4.31 4.84

347 231

Epictetus Diatribai 1.1.27 2.18 3.7.21

340 230 341

3.22.56

347

Euripides frag. 952

347

Homer Odyssea 6.121; 17.485

340

Longinus De sublimitate 44

341

Lucian Nigrinus 15–16 341 De morte Peregrini 16 344 Marcus Aurelius Meditationes 10:1

340

427

Index of Ancient Sources Ovid Metamorphoses 8.611–724

340

Plato Sophista 216B

340

Plutarch De cohibenda ira 1 ii.453a 340 De cupiditate divitiarum 1 ii.523d 340 De fraterno amore 478A–492D 340 De liberis educandis 8F–9A 347 Moralia 449D 231

De sera numinis vindicta 347 Quintilian Institutio oratoria 1.3.14–17 347 Seneca De Providentia 1.6; 4.7, 11–12

347

Thucydides Historia 6.13

230

Xenophon Memorabilia 2.1 Symposium 4.42

52 340

Early Christian Literature 1 Clement 1:2 Didache 11–13

342

113, 342

Gospel of Thomas 54 213 68, 69:1–2 213 Ignatius To the Smyrnaeans 4:2; 5:2; 6:2 235

Justin Dialogue 58.11; 60.2–4 86.2 80

80 80 219

John Chrysostom Homilae in Joanneum 21 14.73 80

Index of Modern Authors Ahn, S.M. 59, 76, 85, 90 Aitken, E.B. 357 Anderson, P.N. 112, 181 Appold, M.L. 38, 78, 176, 57 Ashton, J. 50, 59–61, 64, 93, 99–100, 104–105, 158–60, 162 Attridge, H.W. 294, 297, 308, 312, 313, 320, 321, 325, 327–29, 333, 339, 341–42, 344, 354–55, 362 Augenstein, J. 64, 243 Bachmann, M. 322 Backhaus, K. 77, 308, 313, 322, 340, 346–47, 357, 377–79 Balla, I. 51 Balz, H. 227 Barnard, J.A. 294, 297, 309, 319–20, 328, 331–35, 372 Barrett, C.K. 25, 38, 83, 105, 161 Barth, G. 171, 172, 176 Bauckham, R. 57, 116, 118, 122, 125, 162, Bauer, W. 78 Beasley-Murray, G.R. 77, 79, 93, 99, 104–106, 112, 157, 160–61, 191 Becker, J. 64, 78, 105, 157, 162, 199, 243, 252, 257 Bennema, C. 60, 114, 128, 131, 141, 146, 148, 178, 205, 255, 264 Bergmeier, R. 90, 202, 206 Bertram, G. 93 Betz, H.-D. 172 Beutler, J. 56–59, 78, 80, 103, 105, 106, 108, 140, 142, 146, 160, 181, 187, 198, 249, 258–60, 265, 274 Bieringer, R. 144, 153, 160–61 Blank, J. 17, 19, 26, 30, 31, 33, 35, 36, 41–43, 46, 158, 203 Bock, D.L. 217 Boismard, M.-E. and Lamouille, A. 78 Borgen, P. 25, 34, 104 Bornkamm, G. 1, 40, 158, 171, 176, Borsch, F.H. 27, 104

Boyarin, D. 53, 56–58, 60, 66, 141, 256 Brant, J.-A.A. 66, 141 Braun, H. 297, 307, 313, 320, 327–28, 340–42, 344, 353, 378 Broer, I. 172 Brooke, G.J. 251, 310 Brown, R.E. 18, 19, 25, 30, 38, 40, 60, 63, 78, 79, 99, 103, 105, 112, 128, 133, 161, 198, 225–28, 231, 235, 239, 245, 248 Bruce, F. F. 76, 79, 327 Bühner, J. 17, 21, 25, 26, 33–36, 38– 39, 41–43, 46, 78, 83, 97, 104, 113 Bultmann, R. 1, 39, 64, 78, 79, 98–100, 103, 113, 121, 123, 128, 129, 135, 145, 157, 158, 160, 178, 205, 206, 244, 378 Burge, G.M. 78, 161, Burkett, D. 75, 76, 93, 104, 106 Burridge, R. 267 Busse, U. 61, 75–77, 116, 143, 160, 245, 249 Bynum, W.R. 85, 90 Cadman, W.H. 78 Calaway, J.C. 299, 319, 320, 359 Capper, B.J. 217 Carson, D.A. 79–80, 84 Colpe, C. 25, 34 Carter, W. 155, 213–14 Chanikuzhy, J. 62, 157 Chibici-Revneanu, N. 93 Church, P. 310 Cockerill, G.L. 312, 321, 324, 338–39, 343, 353–54, 357, 372, 377 Collins, A. 76, 84 Collins, R.F. 140 Coloe, M.L. 59–62, 77, 143, 161, 245, 247–48, 258 Compton, J. 300, 323 Conzelmann, H. 37 Coppens, J. 82 Cortez, F.H. 298, 304, 358–59

430

Index of Modern Authors

Cory, C. 62, 97 Crossan, J.D. 215–16, Cullmann, O. 42, 44, 46, 47 Culpepper, R.A. 162, 249–50, 264, 266 Dahl, N.A. 82 Dauer, A. 98 Davies, J.H. 320 Davies, M. 79 Davies, W.D. and Allison, D.C. 152, 155 de Boer, M.C. 82, 99, 103, 129, 131, 152, 156, 162–63, 199, 208 de Jonge, H.J. 333 de Jonge, M. 78 de la Potterie, I. 59, 157 Deines, R. 240 Deming, W. 230 Dennis, J.A. 58, 61, 68, 152, 158, 163– 64, 199, 200 Derrett, J.D.M. 76 deSilva, D.A. 301, 321, 332, 347, 354, 359, 374–75, 379 Dietzfelbinger, C. 76, 102, 161 Dodd, C.H. 19, 53, 78, 132, 231 Dolfe, K.-G.E. 308 Dschlunigg, P. .256 Dunn, James D.G. 1, 53, 58, 77, 78, 100, 104, 213, 214, 217, 220 Dunnill, J. 302, 306, 310, 313, 323 Eberhart, C. 301, 303, 304–306, 310, 312, 313, 318, 322, 331, 358 Edwards, R.B. 59, 226–27, 239, 248, 258 Eisenbaum, P.M. 356 Ellingworth, P. 294, 302, 313, 318, 319, 333, 334, 372 Ellis, J.E. 230 Ellis, P.F. 79 Evans, C.A. 56 Feld, H. 319, 328, 333 Fiensy, D. 216 Filson, F.V. 18 Filtvedt, O.J. 317, 356–57, 369, 371, 375, 377, 380 Finlan, S. 302–303 Fletcher-Louis, C. 72 Forestell, J.T. 17, 20, 24, 31, 33, 43, 78, 83, 145, 153, 162, 188, 197 Fortna, R.T. 40, 181

Fossum, J.E. 76, 104 France, R.T. 154, 171 Fredrickson, D. 359 Freed, E.D. 37 Frey, J. 58, 86, 89–91, 93, 96–99, 102, 139, 143, 144, 153–54, 158–64, 178, 183, 187–88, 196–202, 206–208 Freyne, S. 214–17 Fuhrmann, S. 298–99, 303–304, 308, 312–13, 315, 321–22, 327, 333, 358, 362, 364 Fuller, R. 1 Gäbel, G. 294–96, 299–302, 309, 312– 13, 317–18, 320–23, 326–28 Gaca, K.L. 229 Gelardini, G. 298, 301, 322, 335, 359, 376 Gerhardsson, B. 151 Gieschen, C. 72 Gleason, R.C. 368 Glicksman, A.T. 72, 148 Gnilka, J. 44 Grässer, E. 302, 313, 325, 327, 374 Gray, P. 321, 340, 342 Green, J.B. 216 Gudorf, M.E. 308 Guelich, R. 217 Gundry, R.H. 75, 142, 152, 155 Gurtner, D.M. 152 Haber, S. 299–301, 378 Haenchen, E. 78, 83, 103, 105, 154, 162 Hagner, D.A. 151, 155, 171, 176, 177, 306, 358 Hahn, F. 1, 7, 23, 43, 78, 93, 99, 103, 160, 161, 208, 291, 310, 318, 323, 327 Hamerton-Kelly, R.G. 99 Harrington, D.J. 154–56, 177 Harris, E. 79, 140 Hasitschka, E. 154 Hayward, C.T.R. 58 Heilmann, J. 196 Hengel, M. 39, 53, 57, 141, 167, 244, 256 Higgins, A.J.B. 24, 37, 82 Hofius, O. 310, 328 Hofrichter, P. 140

Index of Modern Authors Holtz, G. 370 Holtzmann, H.J. 208 Hooker, M.D. 18 Horbury, W. 321 Hoskyns, E.C. 201 Hübner, H. 171 Hummel, R. 151, 171, 176 Hurtado, L.W. 53, 58, 100, 122, 159, 160 Isaacs, M.E. 306 Jamieson, R.B. 300, 302, 304, 313 Jeremias, J. 1, 161, 223 Jervell, J. 98 Jipp, J.W. 309, 365 Jobes, K.H. 314 Johnson, B.D. 63, 245 Johnson, L.T. 343 Johnson, R.W. 302 Jones, P.R. 232, 234, 235 Kanagaraj, J.J. 63, 251, 261 Karrer, M. 314, 316, 334, 338, 343, 377 Karris, R.J. 223–24 Käsemann, E. 1, 17, 18, 40, 129, 157, 162, 178, 205–207 Keener, C.S. 59, 60, 72, 75, 77, 79, 91, 93, 98, 112, 113, 115, 120, 124–25, 145, 161, 202, 248, 256, 265, 269, 270, 272, 274 Kibbe, M. 293, 294, 304, 308, 312, 320, 327 Kingsbury, J.D. 151 Klaiber, W. 94 Klauck, H.-J. 225–28, 231, 233, 235– 36 Knöppler, T. 131, 160, 188, 198, 199, 240 Koester, C.R. 301, 308, 310, 313, 320, 333, 338–41, 343–44, 355–57 Kohler, H. 202 Konradt, M. 171, 173, 176 Kotila, M. 239, 246 Kovacs, J. 158 Kowalski, B. 77 Kramer, W. 25 Kraus, W. 60, 64, 247–48, 298, 300, 311, 313, 320, 325, 333–35, 338, 346–47, 357, 359, 361, 367, 375–76, 380 Kysar, R. 17

431

Labahn, M. 138, 143, 255 Lamb, D.A. 272 Lane, W.L. 294, 301, 318, 321, 333, 344, 354, 357, 368 Langbrandtner, W. 157 Laub, F. 327 Le Déaut, R. 161 Lee, D.A. 63, 75, 93, 160 Leung, M.M. 77, 80, 160 Lévi, C. 52 Levine, A.-J. 216, 218 Lierman, J. 102 Lieu, J. 225, 228, 230, 231, 234, 236 Lincoln, A.T. 60, 62, 64, 75, 77, 97, 99, 108, 112, 160, 161, 198, 199, 242, 243, 247–49, 257 Lindars, B. 24, 28, 78, 79, 85, 162, 207, 305, 307, 318, 333, 364 Lindemann, A. 62, 240, 241, 244, 246, 252 Ling, T.J.M. 213, 216, 217, 221–24 Lüdemann, G. 93 Luomanen, P. 155, 217 Lütgert, W. 78 Luz, U. 55, 155, 219, 239, Mackay, I.D. 187, 192, 197 Mackie, S.D. 297–99, 320, 346, 349, 372, 380 Maddox, R. 26, 27, 35, 37, 45, 82, 83 Mahrol, M.J. 374 Malina, B. 216 Marquis, T.L. 361–62, 380 Marshall, I.H. 226, 227, 230, 231, 296, 297, 301, 327 Martin, D.B. 230 Martyn, J.L. 239, 256, März, C.-P. 302, 321, 322, 333 Mason, E.F. 334, 338, 357, 359, 365, 374 Mastin, B.A. 38 McCruden, K.B. 321, 324 McGrath, J.F. 59, 67, 70, 72, 75, 104, 105, 112–15, 121–25 McHugh, J.F. 77, 248, 258 Meeks, W.A. 35, 85 Meier, J.P. 151, 155–56, 176–77, 213– 16 Menken, M.J.J. 129, 134, 187, 196, 235,

432

Index of Modern Authors

Metzner, R. 152, 160 Michaelis, W. 80 Michaels, J.R. 57, 59, 76, 78, 80, 91, 93, 103, 106, 118, 202, 259, 265–67, 269–70 Miranda, J.P. 17, 21, 38, 41, 42 Mitchell, A.C. 297, 321, 354–55 Moffitt, D.M. 294, 296, 305, 309–10, 312, 315, 317, 325, 327–29, 332, 346, 378 Moloney, F.J. 17, 19, 24–26, 29–36, 44, 63, 76–79, 82, 85, 90, 93, 97, 98, 100, 102–105, 112, 128, 133, 163, 208, 244, 248, 257 Moore, N.J. 372 Morgen, M. 63, 249 Morris, L. 19, 28 Müller, T.E. 153, 210 Müller, U.B. 17, 33, 36, 40, 76, 77, 98, 105, 157, 158, 162, Mussner, F. 47 Nelson, R.D. 294, 297, 320 Neyrey, J.H. 239, 268, 337–38, 362, 365 Nicholson, G. 105 Nickelsburg, G.W.E. 50, 69 Nicol, W. 31, 36 Nicklas, T. 255 Nissen, J. 249 Nolland, J.H. 152, 155, 172, 214, 219 Olsson, B. 78 Onuki, T. 158 Painter, J. 56, 57, 82, 93, 103, 105, 106, 124, 130, 160, 178, 225–28, 231, 232, 235, 247 Pamment, M. 76, 78 Pancaro, S. 64, 239, 242, 247, 251, 255, 258 Pannenberg, W. 1 Peeler, A.L.B. 323, 362 Peterson, D. 362 Pfuff, K. 59, 258, 259 Philip, M. 299, 303, 305, 307, 333 Phillips, P. 52, 58 Pleins, J.D. 217 Pokorny, P. 98 Pollard, T.E. 18 Porsch, F. 146, 161 Porter, S.E. 160

Pryor, J.W. 80, 239 Ramantswana, H. 372 Reed, J.L. 215–18 Regev, E. 240, 367 Reim, G. 78, 83 Reinhartz, A. 66, 78, 264–65, Rensberger, D. 144, 163, 208 Repschinski, B. 151, 152, 155 Reynolds, B.E. 69, 76, 79, 82, 83, 93, 95, 99, 102 Rhea, R. 93 Rhee, V. 346, 380 Richardson, C.A. 305, 307, 314, 317, 320, 321, 322 Richter, G. 78, 83 Riedl, J. 27, 31, 35 Rissi, M. 296, 306, 307, 319, 327–28 Robinson, J.A.T. 38, 47 Roloff, J. 46, 322 Rothschild, C.K. 338 Rowland, C.C. 76 Rückstuhl, E. 25, 30, 31 Rusam, D. 158, 160, 161 Saldarini, A.J. 156 Sanders, E.P. 167 Schapdick, S. 60, 62, 64, 240, 241, 243, 245, 246, 249–50 Schenck, K.L. 52, 310, 320 Schenke, L. 78, 103 Schillebeeckx, E. 98, 154 Schlund, C. 132, 198, 199 Schmidl, M. 102, 106 Schmitt, M. 367 Schnackenburg, R. 19, 21, 24, 25, 27, 29, 30, 37, 41, 57, 78, 81, 95, 99, 103–105, 108, 128, 154, 161, 163, 191, 226–28, 231, 241, 248 Schnelle, U. 63, 77, 78, 91, 97, 98, 102–105, 108, 139, 143, 152, 153, 161, 196, 197, 199, 202, 206, 225, 227, 231, 252, 255, 266 Scholer, J.M. 306, 312, 314, 320, 322– 24, 327, 333, 361, 372 Scholtissek, K. 122, 152, 200, 252 Schoneveld, J. 247 Schrenk, W. 379 Schuchard, B.G. 240 Schulz, S. 25, 28, 37, 42, 43, 78, 83 Schunack, G. 318

Index of Modern Authors Schwankl, O. 112, 125 Schweizer, E. 1, 43 Schwindt, R. 80, 106 Scott, E.F. 164, 207 Scott, M. 51–53, 55, 57, 59, 60, 239, 248 Scroggs, R. 78 Seccombe, D.P. 217, 223 Segal, A.F. 53, 54 Segovia, F.F. 198 Senior, D. 156 Sim, D.C. 171 Small, B.C. 307, 315, 317–18, 323, 362 Smalley, S.S. 24, 34, 78, 80, 226, 228, 230 Smith, D.M. 41, 163 Söding, T. 61, 72, 82, 97, 103, 143, 144, 198, 199, 242, 305, 312, 320, 346 Son, K. 371 Stanton, G.N. 156 Stegemann, E.W. and W. 215 Stevens, G.B. 164, 207 Steyn, G.J. 314 Still, T.D. 320 Stolz, L. 371 Stott, J.R.W. 234 Strecker, G. 228, 231, 235 Talbert, C.H. 50, 163 Taschl-Erber, A. 62 Termini, C. 52 Thatcher, T. 62 Theobald, M.E. 52, 53, 57, 59, 66, 77, 80, 83, 98, 104, 105, 108, 139–40, 142, 146, 153, 162, 178, 181, 183, 188, 189, 191, 196, 198, 205, 207, 239, 249, 259 Thettayil, B. 61, 77 Thiessen, M. 372 Thomas, C.A. 357 Thompson, J.W. 337–38, 341–43, 348, 352, 357, 364–65, 379 Thompson, M.M. 54, 58, 63, 75, 93, 102, 108, 145, 148, 154, 178, 183, 184, 187, 196, 201, 265 Thrall, M. 220 Thurén, J. 355 Thüsing, W. 30, 80, 90, 93, 95, 98, 105, 129, 153, 178, 201, 203

433

Thyen, H. 17, 35, 40, 57–59, 64, 75, 82–84, 91, 93, 102, 104, 115–16, 120, 124, 146, 161, 202, 242–44, 248, 257, 258 Trudinger, L.P. 76 Turner, M. 76 Übelacker, W.G. 339 Um, S.T. 58 Vahrenhorst, M. 59, 61, 64, 239–44, 249, 255–57 van Belle, G. 79, 103, 111 van der Watt, J.G. 75, 81, 112, 117, 118, 139, 142, 148, 163, 208, 251, 252, 255, 256, 261 VanderKam, J.C. 50, 69 Varkey, M. 170, 172 Vermes, G. 16 Via, D.O. 295 Vogler, W. 226–27 von den Osten-Sacken, P. 18, 20, 36 von Harnack, A. 139 Vouga, F. 22 Walser, G.A. 31 Weber, R. 5 Wedderburn, A.J.M. 338 Weidemann, H.-U. 75–77, 80, 85, 90, 93, 10, 106, 160 Weiss, H.-F. 318, 321, 322, 333, 348, 374 Wengst, K. 226 Wentling, J.L. 333 Westcott, B.F. 226, 230 Whitacre, R.A. 198 Wilckens, U. 10 Williams, C.H. 93 Winston, D. 52 Witherington, B. 77, 102, 226, 227 Wrede, W. 208 Yarborough, R. 226, 227, 231 Yee, G.A. 241 Young, F. 39 Zimmermann, R. 197, 198, 255, 264 Zumstein, J. 56, 81, 102, 106, 108, 140– 41, 145, 162, 191, 196, 265, 266, 269

Index of Subjects Above/Below 19, 21, 62–63, 101–102, 123, 175, 189–91, 206, 221, 247, 266–67, Abraham 265, 270–71, 283–84, 365 Advocate 6, 296 Adam 44, 309–10 Agrippa II 173 Altar 292, 300, 317, 319, 356 Anachronisms 25, 105, 202 Apocalyptic 45, 119, 134, 199, 275, 346, 367, 375–76 Ascent 9–10, 25–26, 31–33, 35–36, 69, 76, 78, 81, 85–89, 93, 96, 98, 100– 106, 109, 111–12, 127, 130, 133, 136, 144, 158, 178, 187, 191, 200, 228, 237, 328, 332 Atonement 6, 72, 76, 90, 92, 94, 106– 109, 129–34, 139, 143–44, 151–54, 160–64, 166, 177, 199–200, 206– 209, 276, 281–86, 292–93, 297–306, 317–18, 350, 356, 369 Atonement Day 6, 160, 276, 282, 286, 292–306, 312–18, 326, 329–31, 335, 356–61, 364, 377 Augustus 341 Baptism 12, 82, 104, 108, 114, 151–52, 155, 160, 169–70, 176–77, Beloved Disciple 46–48, 136, 222 Blasphemy 13, 65, 115–17, 121, 183, 271–73 Blood 107–108, 132, 136, 152–53, 163, 177, 186–88, 191, 197, 209, 276, 286, 292–308, 312–18, 326–27, 330– 31, 340, 356–60, 364, 369–72 Blood, Flesh and 5, 132, 209, 287, 340, 352 Christ, see Messiah Circumcision 6, 68, 171, 206, 243, 261, 277 Confession 24, 27, 266, 316, 333, 351– 54, 357, 360–64, 373–74

Continuity/Discontinuity 7, 13, 47, 56, 71, 147, 172, 174–76, 184–85, 188– 90, 209, 247, 249, 263–64, 274–76, 282–83, 288–90, 335, 338, 369, 375– 76, 380 Covenant 189, 263–65, 274–75, 282, 284, 287, 296, 299–300, 304, 368 Desire/Passion 167, 225–31, 237, 270 Docetism 40, 205, 234–36 Envoy 10, 42, 111–25, 128, 135, 145, 221 Eschatology 26, 35, 45, 67–70, 86, 131, 134–35, 149, 166, 214–15, 218–21, 228, 257, 345, 349, 352, 376 Eucharist 11–12, 87, 92, 104, 108, 132, 133, 135, 153, 187–88, 192, 196–97, 200, 204, 209, 305, 313, 356 Exaltation 3, 5–6, 9–11, 24–25, 27, 31– 34, 37, 40–46, 69, 72, 79–89, 92– 109, 111–12, 127, 130, 133–35, 144, 146, 178, 187, 272, 291–93, 297, 303–307, 318–19, 328, 331–32, 352, 362 Faith 2, 13–14, 30, 60, 62, 66, 69–73, 79, 83–88, 93, 95–96, 99–100, 105, 109, 119, 124, 130, 133, 148–49, 165–75, 178, 186–92, 200, 203–204, 209, 215, 234–35, 264–71, 275–76, 281–93, 302, 306–307, 316, 327–28, 331, 333, 335, 342–54, 358–65, 370– 81 Flesh 57–58, 62, 71, 116, 124, 134, 139, 141, 146, 148, 156, 175, 183, 190–92, 228–29, 234–35, 246, 248, 256, 258, 260, 275–76, 287, 289, 292, 335, 352, 359, 369, 375–76 Forgiveness 6, 12, 43, 108, 121, 129, 151–56, 164–65, 176–77, 182, 188, 201, 206, 209, 274, 276, 286–87, 291, 293, 295, 311, 316, 321–22, 326–27, 329, 355–56, 370, 375–77, 380

436

Index of Subjects

Gentiles 68, 94–95, 106, 173, 189, 218–20, 264–65, 373, 378 Gerizim 134, 244–45 Glorification 9–10, 27–34, 36, 40, 43– 44, 46, 69, 72, 79–88, 93–101, 106, 109, 111–12, 127, 129–33, 136, 144, 146, 158, 178, 200–203, 207, 231, 272, 296, 328 Glory 5, 7, 9, 11, 24, 28, 30–31, 36, 40–43, 51, 58, 69, 71, 77, 79, 82–83, 86–88, 95–96, 98–100, 103, 106, 111, 116–17, 120, 123–25, 128–31, 135, 146, 158, 173, 182, 200, 205, 207, 221, 258, 260, 310, 328, 349, 362 Grace 59–60, 71, 73, 139–40, 145, 170, 173, 220, 248–49, 256–59, 277, 290, 322, 335, 349, 355–56 Greater things/works 24–25, 28–36, 47, 80, 83–88, 95, 98, 100–102, 109, 117–19, 122, 130–35, 144–46, 156, 158, 170, 174, 185, 191, 200, 258, 282, 335 High Priest 4–6, 12, 21, 61, 131, 153, 199, 241, 282, 284–86, 291–98, 302– 303, 306–307, 316–26, 331–34, 340, 347, 349–353, 356, 358–63, 366–68 Holiest Place/Holy of Holies 6, 276, 282, 287, 292–94, 318–19, 297, 300, 324, 358–59 Hour/Time 24–32, 34, 61, 86–87, 94, 96–97, 100, 104, 109, 119, 130, 134, 144, 158, 200–203, 244 “I am” 26, 63, 124, 145, 175, 182–83 Intercession 5–6, 276, 285, 291–93, 295, 298, 320, 322, 324–27, 332–33, 351–52, 354, 360, 363, 373 Irony 9, 26, 32, 84–85, 94–95, 97, 99, 101, 103, 135, 158, 266, 268, 317, 328 Jacob 75–77, 84, 87–88, 169, 334 John the Baptist 12, 14, 19, 21, 23, 55, 57, 60, 71, 84, 116, 120, 129, 142– 43, 152–53, 157, 160, 165, 169–70, 173, 176, 188, 209, 214, 222, 250, 259–60, 274, 377 Judas 192, 222–23, 272 Judgement 9, 12, 21, 26–32, 35–37, 42, 44–45, 65, 68, 70, 79, 86–87, 107–

108, 116, 118–20, 134–35, 146, 149, 155, 158, 164–65, 169–70, 172–73, 183, 207, 210, 219, 221, 231, 255, 265, 268, 271, 273–74, 311, 313, 337, 344, 364, 372, 374, 379 Lamb of God 132, 143, 152–53 Law 13, 53, 64, 71, 83, 87, 114, 128. 130, 141–42, 169–72, 174–75, 239– 53, 256–62, 264, 277, 282, 284–85, 335, 363–76, 379 Lazarus 21, 24, 119, 271 Lex Iulia de maritandis ordinibus 341 Lex Papia Poppaea 341 Lifted up 9, 25–32, 43, 46, 85, 87, 89, 92–100, 105–106, 109, 111, 133, 146, 153, 158, 200, 202, 328, 347 Logos 11, 17–18, 23, 38, 40, 50–53, 56–60, 65, 72, 107, 114, 130, 139– 41, 145, 147, 183–85, 205–206, 245, 247–48, 256, 258–60 Love 14, 22, 41, 47, 52, 73, 113, 117, 124, 131, 147–49, 153, 158, 168, 178–79, 182, 184–86, 197–98, 207, 219, 222–23, 228–31, 234–37, 249, 252–53, 255, 261, 263, 339–43, 364, 379–80 Maturity 361–64, 380 Melchisedek 5, 361–64, 366 Messiah/Christ 6, 12, 23–24, 27–29, 33–34, 54, 66–68, 72, 84, 98, 101, 132, 156, 172, 183, 190, 199, 214, 268, 270, 272 Miracle 23–26, 40, 42, 83, 87, 113, 119, 122, 124, 165, 188–91, 223–24, 266, 269 Moses 58–63, 71, 89, 114, 120, 142, 145–46, 169–70, 173–74, 183, 185, 189, 240–41, 246, 248–49, 257–59, 268–69, 274, 284–85, 364–69 Mysticism 102, 104, 195, 319, 372 Nicodemus 19, 21–22, 61–62, 83, 85, 101, 175, 190, 246, 266, 268, 270 Passover 61, 132, 143, 160, 162, 199– 200, 223, 241, 308, 311 Poor/Poverty 149, 170, 213–24, 237, 373, 378

Index of Subjects Prolepsis 11, 45, 80, 106, 130, 132, 135–36, 154, 159, 177–78, 201, 203– 205, 209, 352, 378 Prophet 42, 55–56, 58, 61, 71, 84, 113, 116, 141, 170–71, 190–91, 199, 219, 241, 247, 256, 260, 265, 269, 276, 282–83, 289, 301 Resurrection 3–4, 32, 54, 65, 70, 73, 79, 87, 94, 105, 107, 119, 130, 134– 36, 149, 156, 159, 215, 296, 303– 304, 315, 328–29 Revealer 10, 19, 21–22, 24, 26, 31–33, 39–40, 46–47, 79, 83, 85, 88, 98, 113, 128, 135, 145 Rhetoric 140, 187, 229, 244, 265, 273– 74, 338–39, 344, 360 Sabbath 55, 61, 63–65, 68, 115–16, 169, 174, 241–43, 251, 261, 268, 283, 310, 346 Samaritan Woman 23, 61, 134, 224, 244, 258, 268, 273 Satan/Devil 33, 37, 40, 46, 63, 71–72, 106, 134, 231, 270–71, 273, 308– 309, 311, 316, 349 Shaliach 34, 39, 113 Son of God/Messiah 4, 6, 18, 23–24, 29, 54, 66, 84, 101, 103, 132, 144, 183, 190, 324 Son, the 3, 5–11, 13, 20–29, 32–44, 48, 53, 58–59, 64–67, 79, 100–101, 107, 112–25, 128, 130–32, 134–35, 141, 144–49, 153, 164, 169–70, 175, 179, 182–84, 190, 192, 205, 221, 272, 276, 282, 284, 289, 291–93, 307, 309–10, 317–20, 322, 324, 332–33, 350–53, 366–67, 376, 379–80

437

Son of Man 5, 9, 11–13, 24–37, 40–48, 67–70, 72, 75, 79–80, 83–90, 93–97, 100–106, 111, 118, 130, 132, 144, 153–54, 170, 172, 186–87, 191, 196– 97, 202–203, 344, 378 Spirit 9–12, 21, 27–32, 37, 43–46, 62, 72, 86–87, 94–96, 102, 106–11, 114, 121–25, 129–36, 144–49, 158, 160, 175, 178, 182, 200–10, 221, 258 Supersession 59–60, 70–76, 156, 174– 75, 245, 282, 285–86, 288–89, 302 Synagogue 13, 68, 148–49, 172–74, 192, 214, 263–64, 272, 377 Synkrisis 364–65, 370, 374–75 “The Jews” 13, 19–20, 26, 61, 115–16, 174–75, 183, 192, 240, 244, 264, 266, 268, 270, 272–73 Teleiosis 363, 366–72, 375–77, 380 Temple 24, 58, 60–63, 67–69, 77, 87, 119, 134, 143, 156, 165, 167, 173– 74, 201, 240–41, 244–47, 250–51, 257–61, 274, 285–86, 292, 295, 297, 301, 310–13, 316–18, 324–28, 358– 63, 367–70, 376 Torah, see Law Wisdom 2–4, 6, 11, 13, 38, 42, 45, 49– 60, 65–73, 107, 113–14, 124–25, 128, 141–42, 145, 147, 156, 169, 173, 175, 184–85, 205–206, 208, 221, 247, 256, 258, 260, 264–65, 291, 319