Jairus's Daughter and the Haemorrhaging Woman: Tradition and Interpretation of an Early Christian Miracle Story (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen Zum Neuen Testament) 9783161575600, 9783161575617, 3161575601

In this work, Arie W. Zwiep examines the gospel stories of the raising of Jairus's daughter and the healing of the

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Table of contents :
Cover
Titel
Preface
Table of Contents
List of Abbreviations
Introduction
Chapter 1: History and Research
A. Introduction
B. Harmonizing Attempts
1. Psychologizing Explanations
2. Two Different Events?
3. A Translation Error?
C. Allegorical Interpretation
D. Historical-Critical Theories
1. The Enlightenment’s Changed Worldview
2. F.D.E. Schleiermacher and the Apparent Death Theory
3. D.F. Strauss and the Mythical Interpretation
E. Form-Critical Perspectives
F. The Question of Sources
1. Traditional Approaches
2. The Search for an Oral Background
G. Literary and Narrative Approaches
H. Contextual Approaches
1. Feminist Criticism
2. Psychoanalytical Criticism
3. Further Developments
I. Conclusion
Chapter 2: Text and Translation
A. Introduction
B. Lexical, Syntactical and Semantic Notes on Mark 5:21–43
1. Translation Matters in Mark 5:21–24
2. Translation Matters in Mark 5:25–34
3. Translation Matters in Mark 5:35–43
C. Lexical, Syntactical and Semantic Notes on Matt 9:18–26
1. Translation Matters in Matt 9:18–19
2. Translation Matters in Matt 9:20–22
3. Translation Matters in Matt 9:23–26
D. Lexical, Syntactical and Semantic Notes on Luke 8:40–56
1. Translation Matters in Luke 8:40–42
2. Translation Matters in Luke 8:43–48
3. Translation Matters in Luke 8:49–56
E. Conclusion
Chapter 3: Structure and Form
A. Introduction
B. Structure and Form of Mark 5:21–43
1. The Literary Setting of Mark 5:21–43
2. The Architecture of Mark 5:21–43
C. Structure and Form of Matt 9:18–26
1. The Literary Setting of Matt 9:18–26
2. The Architecture of Matt 9:18–26
D. Structure and Form of Luke 8:40–56
1. The Literary Setting of Luke 8:40–56
2. The Architecture of Luke 8:40–56
E. Literary Motifs of Miracle (Healing) Stories
F. Literary Motifs in Mark 5:21–43
1. Literary Motifs in Mark 5:21–24, 35–43
2. Literary Motifs in Mark 5:25–34
G. Literary Motifs in Matt 9:18–26
1. Literary Motifs in Matt 9:18–19, 23–26
2. Literary Motifs in Matt 9:20–22
H. Literary Motifs in Luke 8:40–56
1. Literary Motifs in Luke 8:40–42, 49–56
2. Literary Motifs in Luke 8:43–48
I. Conclusion
Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction
A. Introduction
B. Tradition and Redaction in Mark 5:21–43
1. Markan Fingerprints: General Observations
2. Tradition and Redaction in Mark 5:21–24
3. Tradition and Redaction in Mark 5:25–34
4. Tradition and Redaction in Mark 5:35–43
5. Preliminary Conclusions
6. A Note on the Proto-Mark Hypothesis
C. Tradition and Redaction in Matt 9:18–26
1. Matthaean Fingerprints: General Observations
2. Tradition and Redaction in Matt 9:18–19
3. Tradition and Redaction in Matt 9:20–22
4. Tradition and Redaction in Matt 9:23–26
5. Preliminary Conclusions
D. Tradition and Redaction in Luke 8:40–56
1. Lukan Fingerprints: General Observations
2. Tradition and Redaction in Luke 8:40–42
3. Tradition and Redaction in Luke 8:43–48
4. Tradition and Redaction in Luke 8:49–56
5. Preliminary Conclusions
E. Conclusion
Chapter 5: Orality and Performance
A. Introduction
B. Memory, Orality and Scribality
1. A Lack of Scholarly Consensus
2. A Brief Intermezzo on a Distorted Memory
C. Performance Criticism
D. The Quest for (Pre-Synoptic) Orality Markers
E. Orality Markers in Mark 5:21–43 and Parr
1. The Criterion of Stability
2. The Criterion of Flexibility
3. The Linguistic Criterion
4. The Use of Mnemonic Structure Markers
5. The Law of Scenic Duality
6. Relevance of the Past for the Present
7. The Argument of Awareness of Markan Redaction
8. The Issue of Names and Anonymity
9. The Criterion of Increasing Complexity
10. The Absence of Acclamation
11. Evidence from the Episode’s Post-History
F. Conclusion
Chapter 6: Story and Narrative
A. Introduction
B. Narrative-Critical Tools and Categories
1. The Implied Author/Narrator
2. The Implied Reader
3. Plot (Ordering of the Narration)
4. Motifs and Theme
5. Rhetoric
6. Setting
7. Characters and Characterization
8. Intertextuality
9. Point of View
C. Narrative Analysis of Mark 5:21–43
1. The Implied Author/Narrator
2. The Implied Reader
3. Plot (Ordering of the Narration)
4. Motifs and Theme
5. Rhetoric
6. Setting
7. Characters and Characterization
8. Intertextuality
9. Point of View
10. Jesus and the Purity Regulations
D. Narrative Analysis of Matt 9:18–26
1. The Implied Author/Narrator
2. The Implied Reader
3. Plot (Ordering of the Narration)
4. Motifs and Theme
5. Rhetoric
6. Setting
7. Characters and Characterization
8. Intertextuality
9. Point of View
E. Narrative Analysis of Luke 8:40–56
1. The Implied Author/Narrator
2. The Implied Reader
3. Plot (Ordering of the Narration)
4. Motifs and Theme
5. Rhetoric
6. Setting
7. Characters and Characterization
8. Intertextuality
9. Point of View
F. Conclusion
Chapter 7: Summary and Conclusions
A. Introduction
B. Mark 5:21–43
C. Matthew 9:18–26
D. Luke 8:40–56
E. Conclusion
Appendix 1: Text and Transmission
A. Introduction
B. The Text of Mark 5:21–43
1. Text-Critical Notes on Mark 5:21–24
2. Text-Critical Notes on Mark 5:25–34
3. Text-Critical Notes on Mark 5:35–43
C. The Text of Matt 9:18–26
1. Text-Critical Notes on Matt 9:18–19
2. Text-Critical Notes on Matt 9:20–22
3. Text-Critical Notes on Matt 9:23–26
D. The Text of Luke 8:40–56
1. Text-Critical Notes on Luke 8:40–42
2. Text-Critical Notes on Luke 8:43–48
3. Text-Critical Notes on Luke 8:49–56
E. Conclusion
Appendix 2: Text and Intertext
A. Introduction
B. The Quest for Criteria
C. An Overview
D. Conclusion
Appendix 3: Reception and Wirkung
A. Introduction
B. Sources
Bibliography A (Chronological)
Bibliography B (General)
Index of References
1. Old Testament and Deuterocanonical Writings
2. New Testament
3. Jewish Pseudepigrapha
4. Dead Sea Scrolls
5. Philo of Alexandria
6. Flavius Josephus
7. Mishnah
8. Targumim
9. Talmud
10. Midrashim
11. New Testament Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha
12. Ancient Christian Writings
13. Classical (Greek and Roman) Writings
Index of Modern Authors
Index of Subjects
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Jairus's Daughter and the Haemorrhaging Woman: Tradition and Interpretation of an Early Christian Miracle Story (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen Zum Neuen Testament)
 9783161575600, 9783161575617, 3161575601

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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)

421

Arie W. Zwiep

Jairus’s Daughter and the Haemorrhaging Woman Tradition and Interpretation of an Early Christian Miracle Story

Mohr Siebeck

Arie W. Zwiep, born 1964; 1996 Ph.D. from Durham University; currently Associate Professor of New Testament and Hermeneutics at Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, director of the Graduate School of Religion and Theology. orcid.org/ 0000-0003-0126-1563

ISBN 978-3-16-157560-0 / eISBN 978-3-16-157561-7 DOI 10.1628/ 978-3-16-157561-7 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. © 2019 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 on non-aging paper by Gulde Druck in Tübingen and bound by Buch­ binderei Spinner in Ottersweier. Printed in Germany.

In memory of Tjitze Baarda (1932–2017), δοῦλος ἀγαθὸς καὶ πιστός, whose scholarship and faith have been a source of inspiration for many years

Preface This book is the result of a long-standing fascination of mine (not to say, obsession) with a well-known episode from the Synoptic Gospels, the story of the raising of Jairus’s daughter and the intervening incident with the unnamed woman who had suffered from haemorrhages and was instantaneously healed by Jesus (Mark 5:21–43; Matt 9:18–26; Luke 8:40–56). My earliest more professional engagement with the episode dates from 2004, when I was invited to teach an MA-course on New Testament Exegesis at the Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam and decided to take this story from the “triple tradition” as my basic text. Little could I then foresee that I would be lecturing on this gospel story for a decade and a half on all academic levels and in various institutions (Vrije Universiteit, the Protestantse Theologische Universiteit, locations Amsterdam and Utrecht, and in the early stages of this project also the Christelijke Hogeschool Ede). Needless to say that I have much profited (and still do) from the constant interaction with my students and colleagues. Looking with hindsight on my previous publications, I realize that I seem to have a strange attraction (to start with a circumfession) to absent people. My doctoral dissertation was on the ascension of Jesus and on how early Christians sought to come to terms with his seemingly permanent absence.1 A few years later I published a book on the choice of a successor to Judas Iscariot, on a pericope in which the two dominant figures, Jesus and Judas, were both conspicuously and problematically absent.2 Now that I submit a book about Jairus’s daughter and the haemorrhaging woman, I am aware that once again I have wrestled with the absence of at least one more person: a dead young girl. I get the feeling that Jacques Derrida’s notion of absence is on to something! Perhaps it is now time to inscribe/circumscribe the notion of absence into my intellectual bio­g raphy. Thanks are due to the members of our two-weekly Amsterdam New Testament Colloquium (Nieuwtestamentisch Werkgezelschap), in particular to my colleagues Bert Jan Lietaert Peerbolte, Jan Krans, Peter-Ben Smit and 1   Arie W. Zwiep, The Ascension of the Messiah in Lukan Christology, NovTSup 87 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), now to be supplemented by my “Ascension Scholarship: Past, Present and Future,” in Ascent Into Heaven in Luke-Acts: New Explorations of Luke’s Narrative Hinge, ed. David W. Pao and David K. Bryan (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2016), 7–26. 2   Arie W. Zwiep, Judas and the Choice of Matthias: A Study on Context and Concern of Acts 1:15–26, WUNT 2/187 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004).

VIII

Preface

our two esteemed emeriti, Tjitze Baarda (†) and Martinus C. de Boer, to the participants of the Seminar on Memory, Narrative and Christology in the Synoptic Gospels of the Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas (SNTS), and to the members of the Dutch-Flemish Studiosorum Novi Testamenti Conventus (SNTC). My PhD Seminar of New Testament studies of the Graduate School of Religion and Theology conducted in the Fall Semester 2018 provided me with ample opportunity to discuss the ins and outs of my work with doctoral students, colleagues and other specialists in the field. Special thanks are due to Vincent van Altena, Wolansa Asmare Asfaw, Yimenu Adimass Belay, Tessema F. Gechera, Kirsten van der Ham, Marc Lamain, Elias Tranefeldt, An-Ting Yi, Drake Williams, Marten van Willigen, Theo van Willigenburg, and Ruben van Wingerden. I feel blessed with them all. I am most grateful to the editors of WUNT for accepting this work in this prestigious series and to the editorial staff of Mohr Siebeck for their careful supervision of the final stages of this project. Last but not least, Cisca my life companion. Who would I be without her? This book is dedicated to the memory of Tjitze Baarda who “in his old age was still producing fruit” for generations to come (Ps 92:14 nrsv) and thereby left a deep imprint on all of us. Oudewater, April 2019



Arie W. Zwiep

Table of Contents Preface......................................................................................................VII List of Abbreviations.............................................................................. XVI Introduction................................................................................................. 1

Chapter 1: History and Research............................................... 5 A. Introduction............................................................................................ 5 B. Harmonizing Attempts............................................................................. 7 1. Psychologizing Explanations.............................................................. 8 2. Two Different Events?........................................................................ 9 3. A Translation Error?..........................................................................10 C. Allegorical Interpretation......................................................................11 D. Historical-Critical Theories..................................................................14 1. The Enlightenment’s Changed Worldview ����������������������������������������14 2. F.D.E. Schleiermacher and the Apparent Death Theory�������������������15 3. D.F. Strauss and the Mythical Interpretation ������������������������������������17 E. Form-Critical Perspectives................................................................... 20 F. The Question of Sources........................................................................ 23 1. Traditional Approaches..................................................................... 23 2. The Search for an Oral Background................................................. 27 G. Literary and Narrative Approaches...................................................... 28 H. Contextual Approaches..........................................................................32 1. Feminist Criticism.............................................................................33 2. Psychoanalytical Criticism............................................................... 38 3. Further Developments...................................................................... 40 I. Conclusion............................................................................................. 42

X

Table of Contents

Chapter 2: Text and Translation............................................... 44 A. Introduction.......................................................................................... 44 B. Lexical, Syntactical and Semantic Notes on Mark 5:21–43������������������ 44 1. Translation Matters in Mark 5:21–24................................................ 44 2. Translation Matters in Mark 5:25–34................................................ 54 3. Translation Matters in Mark 5:35–43................................................ 64 C. Lexical, Syntactical and Semantic Notes on Matt 9:18–26������������������� 73 1. Translation Matters in Matt 9:18–19................................................. 73 2. Translation Matters in Matt 9:20–22................................................ 78 3. Translation Matters in Matt 9:23–26..................................................81 D. Lexical, Syntactical and Semantic Notes on Luke 8:40–56������������������ 85 1. Translation Matters in Luke 8:40–42................................................ 85 2. Translation Matters in Luke 8:43–48................................................ 90 3. Translation Matters in Luke 8:49–56................................................ 95 E. Conclusion........................................................................................... 101

Chapter 3: Structure and Form............................................... 103 A. Introduction.........................................................................................103 B. Structure and Form of Mark 5:21–43...................................................104 1. The Literary Setting of Mark 5:21–43..............................................104 2. The Architecture of Mark 5:21–43...................................................107 C. Structure and Form of Matt 9:18–26....................................................109 1. The Literary Setting of Matt 9:18–26...............................................109 2. The Architecture of Matt 9:18–26.................................................... 114 D. Structure and Form of Luke 8:40–56................................................... 116 1. The Literary Setting of Luke 8:40–56.............................................. 116 2. The Architecture of Luke 8:40–56................................................... 119 E. Literary Motifs of Miracle (Healing) Stories ��������������������������������������� 119 F. Literary Motifs in Mark 5:21–43...........................................................125 1. Literary Motifs in Mark 5:21–24, 35–43..........................................126 2. Literary Motifs in Mark 5:25–34.....................................................130

Table of Contents

XI

G. Literary Motifs in Matt 9:18–26........................................................... 131 1. Literary Motifs in Matt 9:18–19, 23–26........................................... 131 2. Literary Motifs in Matt 9:20–22......................................................132 H. Literary Motifs in Luke 8:40–56...........................................................133 1. Literary Motifs in Luke 8:40–42, 49–56..........................................133 2. Literary Motifs in Luke 8:43–48.....................................................135 I. Conclusion............................................................................................136

Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction........................................ 140 A. Introduction.........................................................................................140 B. Tradition and Redaction in Mark 5:21–43............................................143 1. Markan Fingerprints: General Observations �����������������������������������144 2. Tradition and Redaction in Mark 5:21–24 ���������������������������������������149 3. Tradition and Redaction in Mark 5:25–34 ���������������������������������������151 4. Tradition and Redaction in Mark 5:35–43 ��������������������������������������152 5. Preliminary Conclusions.................................................................154 6. A Note on the Proto-Mark Hypothesis.............................................155 C. Tradition and Redaction in Matt 9:18–26.............................................155 1. Matthaean Fingerprints: General Observations ������������������������������156 2. Tradition and Redaction in Matt 9:18–19 ����������������������������������������157 3. Tradition and Redaction in Matt 9:20–22 ���������������������������������������165 4. Tradition and Redaction in Matt 9:23–26 ���������������������������������������168 5. Preliminary Conclusions................................................................. 171 D. Tradition and Redaction in Luke 8:40–56............................................172 1. Lukan Fingerprints: General Observations �������������������������������������173 2. Tradition and Redaction in Luke 8:40–42 ���������������������������������������173 3. Tradition and Redaction in Luke 8:43–48 ���������������������������������������177 4. Tradition and Redaction in Luke 8:49–56 ��������������������������������������� 181 5. Preliminary Conclusions.................................................................186 E. Conclusion...........................................................................................187

XII

Table of Contents

Chapter 5: Orality and Performance....................................... 189 A. Introduction.........................................................................................189 B. Memory, Orality and Scribality............................................................192 1. A Lack of Scholarly Consensus.......................................................195 2. A Brief Intermezzo on a Distorted Memory �����������������������������������198 C. Performance Criticism....................................................................199 D. The Quest for (Pre-Synoptic) Orality Markers �����������������������������������203 E. Orality Markers in Mark 5:21–43 and Parr. ����������������������������������������205 1. The Criterion of Stability ............................................................... 207 2. The Criterion of Flexibility............................................................. 210 3. The Linguistic Criterion.................................................................. 211 4. The Use of Mnemonic Structure Markers ���������������������������������������212 5. The Law of Scenic Duality .............................................................212 6. Relevance of the Past for the Present...............................................213 7. The Argument of Awareness of Markan Redaction ������������������������213 8. The Issue of Names and Anonymity................................................215 9. The Criterion of Increasing Complexity.......................................... 218 10. The Absence of Acclamation.........................................................219 11. Evidence from the Episode’s Post-History ������������������������������������219 F. Conclusion........................................................................................... 220

Chapter 6: Story and Narrative............................................... 222 A. Introduction........................................................................................ 222 B. Narrative-Critical Tools and Categories..............................................225 1. The Implied Author/Narrator...........................................................225 2. The Implied Reader.........................................................................226 3. Plot (Ordering of the Narration).......................................................227 4. Motifs and Theme............................................................................228 5. Rhetoric...........................................................................................229 6. Setting.............................................................................................229 7. Characters and Characterization .....................................................230 8. Intertextuality..................................................................................230 9. Point of View ..................................................................................231

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XIII

C. Narrative Analysis of Mark 5:21–43.....................................................232 1. The Implied Author/Narrator . ........................................................232 2. The Implied Reader.........................................................................234 3. Plot (Ordering of the Narration).......................................................235 4. Motifs and Theme............................................................................236 5. Rhetoric...........................................................................................238 6. Setting.............................................................................................239 7. Characters and Characterization......................................................242 8. Intertextuality................................................................................. 244 9. Point of View...................................................................................247 10. Jesus and the Purity Regulations.................................................. 248 D. Narrative Analysis of Matt 9:18–26......................................................251 1. The Implied Author/Narrator...........................................................252 2. The Implied Reader.........................................................................253 3. Plot (Ordering of the Narration).......................................................254 4. Motifs and Theme............................................................................255 5. Rhetoric...........................................................................................256 6. Setting.............................................................................................256 7. Characters and Characterization......................................................257 8. Intertextuality..................................................................................258 9. Point of View ..................................................................................259 E. Narrative Analysis of Luke 8:40–56.................................................... 260 1. The Implied Author/Narrator...........................................................261 2. The Implied Reader.........................................................................262 3. Plot (Ordering of the Narration) ..................................................... 264 4. Motifs and Theme........................................................................... 264 5. Rhetoric...........................................................................................268 6. Setting.............................................................................................269 7. Characters and Characterization......................................................270 8. Intertextuality..................................................................................272 9. Point of View...................................................................................275 F. Conclusion............................................................................................276

Chapter 7: Summary and Conclusions.................................... 278 A. Introduction.........................................................................................278 B. Mark 5:21–43........................................................................................279

XIV

Table of Contents

C. Matthew 9:18–26................................................................................. 280 D. Luke 8:40–56........................................................................................281 E. Conclusion...........................................................................................282

Appendix 1: Text and Transmission........................................ 287 A. Introduction.........................................................................................287 B. The Text of Mark 5:21–43.....................................................................288 1. Text-Critical Notes on Mark 5:21–24...............................................288 2. Text-Critical Notes on Mark 5:25–34...............................................293 3. Text-Critical Notes on Mark 5:35–43...............................................295 C. The Text of Matt 9:18–26......................................................................298 1. Text-Critical Notes on Matt 9:18–19................................................298 2. Text-Critical Notes on Matt 9:20–22.............................................. 300 3. Text-Critical Notes on Matt 9:23–26............................................... 300 D. The Text of Luke 8:40–56.....................................................................302 1. Text-Critical Notes on Luke 8:40 –42..................................................302

2. Text-Critical Notes on Luke 8:43–48...............................................303 3. Text-Critical Notes on Luke 8:49–56...............................................307

E. Conclusion.......................................................................................... 309

Appendix 2: Text and Intertext............................................... 311 A. Introduction......................................................................................... 311 B. The Quest for Criteria.......................................................................... 313 C. An Overview........................................................................................ 316 D. Conclusion...........................................................................................334

Appendix 3: Reception and Wirkung...................................... 336 A. Introduction.........................................................................................336 B. Sources.................................................................................................336

Table of Contents

XV

Bibliography A (Chronological)................................................................347 Bibliography B (General)..........................................................................359 Index of References.................................................................................. 411 1. Old Testament and Deuterocanonical Writings ������������������������������� 411 2. New Testament................................................................................ 413 3. Jewish Pseudepigrapha....................................................................429 4. Dead Sea Scrolls..............................................................................429 5. Philo of Alexandria..........................................................................429 6. Flavius Josephus..............................................................................430 7. Mishnah...........................................................................................430 8. Targumim........................................................................................430 9. Talmud.............................................................................................430 10. Midrashim.....................................................................................430 11. New Testament Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha ��������������������������� 431 12. Ancient Christian Writings............................................................ 431 13. Classical (Greek and Roman) Writings..........................................433 Index of Modern Authors..........................................................................435 Index of Subjects..................................................................................... 448

List of Abbreviations Where possible, abbreviations of biblical writings, ancient sources, journals, series etc. follow the conventions of the SBL Handbook of Style for Biblical Studies and Related Disciplines (Atlanta, GA: SBL Press, 22014), supplemented by Siegfried M. Schwertner, IATG 3 – Internationales Abkürzungs­ verzeichnis für Theologie und Grenzgebiete (Berlin: de Gruyter, 32014). Abbreviations marked with * are new.

A. Bible and Apocrypha Gen Genesis Exod Exodus Lev Leviticus Num Numbers Deut Deuteronomy Josh Joshua Judg Judges Ruth Ruth 1 Sam 1 Samuel 2 Sam 2 Samuel 1 Kgs 1 Kings 2 Kgs 2 Kings 1 Chr 1 Chronicles 2 Chr 2 Chronicles Ezra Ezra Neh Nehemiah Tob Tobit Jdt Judith Esth Esther 1 Macc 1 Maccabees 2 Macc 2 Maccabees Job Job Ps Psalms

Prov Proverbs Eccl Ecclesiastes Song Song of Solomon Wis Wisdom of Solomon Sir Sirach (Ecclesiasticus) Isa Isaiah Jer Jeremiah Lam Lamentations Bar Baruch Ezek Ezekiel Dan Daniel Hos Hosea Joel Joel Am Amos Obad Obadiah Jonah Jonah Mic Michah Nah Nahum Hab Habakkuk Zeph Zephaniah Hag Haggai Zech Zechariah Mal Malachi

Matt Matthew Mark Mark Luke Luke John John

Acts Acts of the Apostles Rom Romans 1 Cor 1 Corinthians 2 Cor 2 Corinthians

List of Abbreviations Gal Galatians Eph Ephesians Phil Philippians Col Colossians 1 Thess 1 Thessalonians 2 Thess 2 Thessalonians 1 Tim 1 Timothy 2 Tim 2 Timothy Titus Titus Phlm Philemon

XVII

Heb Hebrews Jas James 1 Pet 1 Peter 2 Pet 2 Peter 1 John 1 John 2 John 2 John 3 John 3 John Jude Jude Rev Revelation

B. Translations Abbreviations of (modern) Bible translations have been set in small caps. A large number of these translations have been drawn from BibleWorks 9.0 and Logos.com Bible software. afr asv bbe



bfc

bgt

cab cjb

dby dra drb ein

elb

elo esv fbj

gnb

gnv

gwn

hcsb hrd hsv iep

kbs kjv lb

lba lei

lnd lsg

luo

Bible Afrikaans, 1953 American Standard Version, 1901 The English Bible in Basic English, 1965 Bible en Français Courant, édition revisée, 1997 De Bijbel in Gewone Taal, 2015 Castillian Bible Version, ed. De Ausejo, 2004 Complete Jewish Bible, 1998 The English Darby Bible, 1884, 1890 The Douay-Rheims American Edition, 1899 Bible Darby en français, 1885 Einheitsübersetzung der Heiligen Schrift, 1980 Elberfelder Bibel, revidierte Fassung, 1993 Darby unrevidierte Elberfelder Bible, 1905 English Standard Version, 2001 Bible de Jérusalem, 1973 Groot Nieuws Bijbel Geneva Bible, 1599 God’s Word to the Nations, 1995 Holman Christian Standard Bible, 1999, 2003 Die Bibel, Herder, 2005 Herziene Statenvertaling, 2010 Nuovissima Versione della Bibbia, 1995, 1996 Willibrordvertaling, Katholieke Bijbelstichting, 1978 King James Version, 1611 Lutherbibel, 1545 La Biblia de Las Americanas, 1986 Leidse Vertaling, 1912/1994 La Nuova Diodati, 1991 Louis Segond, 1910 Lutherbibel, 1912

XVIII lut

luv mit

mnt

mrd nab

nasb nau nbg nbv neg net niv

njb

nkj

nlb nlt

nrd

nrsv nrv nvi

pnt

r60 r95 rsv

rva

rwb sch srv sv

tnt

tob

web wv ylt



List of Abbreviations Lutherbibel, 1984 Lutherse Vertaling, 1933 MacDonald Idiomatic Translation Münchener Neues Testament, 1998 Peshitta, James Murdoch Translation, 1852 New American Bible, 1991 New American Standard Bible, 1971 New American Standard Bible (updated edition), 1995 Nieuwe Vertaling Nederlands Bijbelgenootschap, 1951 Nieuwe Bijbelvertaling, 2004 Nouvelle Édition de Génève, 1979 The NET Bible, 2004 New International Version, 1973, 1984 New Jerusalem Bible, 1985 New King James Version, 1982 Neue Lutherbibel, 2017 New Living Translation, second edition, 2004 Naardense Bijbel, herziene editie 2014 New Revised Standard Version, 1989 La Sacra Bibbia Nuova Riveduta, 1994 La Santa Biblia, Nuova Versión Internacional, 1999 The Bishops’ New Testament, 1595 La Santa Biblia, Reina-Valera, 1960 La Santa Biblia, Reina-Valera, 1995 Revised Standard Version, 1952, 1971 La Santa Biblia Reina-Valera, 1982, 1989 The English Revised 1833 Webster Update 1995 Schlachter (1951, revised 2000) La Santa Biblia Reina-Valera, 1909 Statenvertaling, 1637 Tyndale New Testament, 1534 Traduction Oecuménique de la Bible, 1988 The English Noah Webster Bible, 1833 Herziene Willibrordvertaling, 1995 The English Young’s Literal Translation, 1862, 1898

C. Journals and Series AB ABD ABRL AcA ACCSNT ACCSOT ACEBT ACEBTSup ACNT ACTR

Anchor Bible Anchor Bible Dictionary Anchor Bible Reference Library Antike christliche Apokryphen* Ancient Commentary on Scripture. New Testament Ancient Commentary on Scripture. Old Testament Amsterdamse Cahiers voor Exegese van de Bijbel en zijn tradities ACEBT Supplement Series Augsburg Commentaries on the New Testament Ashgate Contemporary Thinkers on Religion*

List of Abbreviations AdvSem AfCS AJT ACPs ANF ANRW Anvil ApF ArBib ARMA ArtRel AsSeign AsTJ ATANT AUSDS AYB AzKG BAFCS BAR Bauer

XIX

Advances in Semiotics* African Christian Studies Asia Journal of Theology Applied Cognitive Psychology* Ante-Nicene Fathers Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt Anvil. Journal of Theology and Mission The Apostolic Fathers, ed. J.B. Lightfoot The Aramaic Bible Antwerp Royal Museum Annual* Art & Religion. Louvain* Assemblées du Seigneur Asbury Theological Journal Abhandlungen zur Theologie des Alten und Neuen Testaments Andrews University Seminary Doctoral Dissertation Series Anchor Yale Bible* Arbeiten zur Kirchengeschichte The Book of Acts in Its First-Century Setting, ed. B.W. Winter Biblical Archaeology Review Griechisch-deutsches Wörterbuch zu den Schriften des Neuen Testaments und der frühchristlichen Literatur, ed. K. and B. Aland, 6 1988 BAZ Biblische Archäologie und Zeitgeschichte* BBB Bonner Biblische Beiträge BBKL Biographisch-Bibliographisches Kirchenlexikon BBR Bulletin for Biblical Research BDAG Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament, 3rd ed., ed. F.W. Danker BECNT Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament BegC The Beginnings of Christianity, ed. F.J. Foakes-Jackson, 5 vols. BEH Bibliothèque de l’Évolution de l’Humanité BENT Beiträge zur Einleitung in das Neue Testament (A. Harnack)* BETL Bibliotheca Ephemeridum theologicarum Lovaniensum BHGNT Baylor’s Handbook to the Greek New Testament* BHT Beiträge zur historischen Theologie Bib Biblica BibInt Biblical Interpretation; Biblical Interpretation Series BibOr Biblica et orientalia BiLiSe Bible and Literature Series BJSt Brown Judaic Studies BK Bibel und Kirche Blass-Debrunner Grammatik des neutestamentlichen Griechisch, ed. F. Blass, A. Debrunner, F. Rehkopf BLE Bulletin de littérature ecclésiastique BLOS Bulletin de liaison sur l’origine des synoptiques* BN Biblische Notizen BPC Biblical Performance Criticism* BRS The Biblical Resource Series* BSGRT Bibliotheca Scriptorum Graecorum et Romanorum Teubneriana BSac Bibliotheca Sacra

XX BSIH BT BTAf BTB BThSt BTS Budhi BZ BZNW CaAt CAL CBET CBFV CBNT CBQ CCCM CCen CCSL CDios CESG CGTC ChrTo CLCLT CNT CNT CNT Coll ConBNT Cons CoSp COT CSEL CSRCT CTM CurBR CurTM DDD Did(L) Diffusion DJG DLTT DNTB DSD DSSSE DSTh DTMT

List of Abbreviations Brill’s Studies in Intellectual History The Bible Translator Bible and Theology in Africa Biblical Theology Bulletin Biblisch-Theologische Studien Biblical Tools and Studies Budhi. A Journal of Ideas and Culture* Biblische Zeitschrift Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft Cahiers de l’Atelier* Comprehensive Aramaic Lexicon* Contibutions to Biblical Exegesis and Theology Cahiers bibliques de Foi et Vie Commentaire biblique: Nouveau Testament* Catholic Biblical Quarterly Corpus Christianorum. Continuatio Mediaevalis Christian Century Corpus Christianorum. Series Latina Ciudad de Dios. El Escorial Comparative Edition of the Syriac Gospels, ed. G.A. Kiraz Cambridge Greek Testament Commentary Christianity Today Library of Latin Texts (Brepols) Commentaar op het Nieuwe Testament (Kampen) Commentaire du Nouveau Testament Commentaire du Nouveau Testament (Genève) Collationes. Gent Coniectanea Biblica. New Testament Series Consensus. A Canadian Journal of Public Theology* Counseling et spiritualité Commentaar Oude Testament (Kampen) Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum Cambridge Studies in Religion and Critical Thought Concordia Theological Monthly Currents in Biblical Research Currents in Theology and Mission Dictionary of Deities and Demons, 21999 Didaskalia (Lisbõa) Diffusion. Atelier national de reproduction des thèses Dictionary of Jesus and the Gospels, eds. J. Green, S. McKnight, and I.H. Marshall A Dictionary of Literary and Thematic Terms, ed. Edward Quinn* Dictionary of New Testament Background, eds. C.A. Evans and S.E. Porter Dead Sea Discoveries The Dead Sea Scrolls Study Edition, ed. F. García Martínez and E.J.C. Tigchelaar Duckworth Studies in Theology* Dictionaries of Talmud, Midrash and Targum

List of Abbreviations DTT EarlyChrist EBR EDGr EDSS

XXI

Dansk teologisk tidsskrift Early Christianity. Tübingen* Encyclopedia of the Bible and Its Reception Etymological Dictionary of Greek, ed. Robert Beekes Encyclopedia of the Dead Sea Scrolls, ed. L.H. Schiffman and James C. VanderKam EHS.T Europäische Hochschulschriften, Reihe 23, Theologie EKKNT Evangelisch-katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament Emm Emmanuel Magazine, Cleveland, OH* EPH Études de philologie et d’histoire EpRe Epworth Review ER Ecumenical Review ESCO European Studies on Christian Origins* EsTe Estudos teológicos. São Leopoldo EstEcl Estudios eclesiásticos ETL Ephemerides Theologicae Lovaniensis ETR Études theeologiques et religieuses Euphrosune Euphrosune. Lisboa* EvLib Everyman’s Library* EvQ Evangelical Quarterly EWNT Exegetisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament Exchange Exchange. Leiden* Exp. Expositor. London ExpTim Expository Times FB Forschung zur Bibel FC Fontes Christiani FCNTECW Feminist Companion to the New Testament and Early Christian Writings FemTh Feminist Theology FMB First Midland Book* FNT Filología Neotestamentaria. Córdoba FRLANT Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments GBS Guides to Biblical Scholarship GCS Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten drei Jahrhunderte GoPe Gospel Perspectives Greg Gregorianum GTA Göttinger Theologische Arbeiten HCTh History of Christian Theology* Hermeneia Hermeneia. A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible HeTr Helps for Translators HJP History of the Jewish People in the Time of Jesus Christ HNT Handbuch zum Neuen Testament HRCS Concordance to the Septuagint and Other Greek Versions, ed. E. Hatch and A. Redpath HSCL Harvard Studies in Comparative Literature* HSpektrum Herder Spektrum* HThKNT Herders Theologischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament HTR Harvard Theological Review

XXII HTS HvTSt IBS ICC IDS IGNTP Int Inters. IRT JAC JATS JBL JBLMS JBS JCPS JECH JETS JJS JR JRS JSHJ JSJ JSJSup JSNT JSNTSup JSPE JTS JTSA JudAnc KEK KeTh KNT L&N LBH LCL LD LeDiv.C LEC LEH LetIt LHJS LingBS LMRT LNTS LPTh

List of Abbreviations Harvard Theological Studies Hervormde teologiese studies Irish Biblical Studies International Critical Commentary In die Skriflig International Greek New Testament Project Interpretation. Richmond, VA Intersections. Leiden* Issues in Religion and Theology Journal of Ancient Christianity Journal of the Adventist Theological Society Journal of Biblical Literature Journal of Biblical Literature: Monograph Series Journal of Biblical Studies Jewish and Christian Perspectives Series Journal of Early Christian History* Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society Journal of Jewish Studies Journal of Religion. Chicago, IL Journal of Roman Studies Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic, and Roman Periods Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic, and Roman Periods. Supplement Series Journal for the Study of the New Testament Journal for the Study of the New Testament. Supplements Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha Journal of Theological Studies Journal of Theology for Southern Africa Judaïsme Ancien. Turnhout* Kritisch-exegetischer Kommentar über das Neue Testament Kerk en Theologie. Utrecht Kommentaar op het Nieuwe Testament (Amsterdam) Louw and Nida, Greek-English Lexicon Lexicon der Bibelhermeneutik Loeb Classical Library Lectio Divina Lectio Divina. Commentaries Library of Early Christianity Greek-English Lexicon of the Septuagint, ed. J. Lust, E. Eynikel and Katrin Hauspie Letteraria Italiana. Milan* Library of Historical Jesus Studies* Linguistic Biblical Studies* Library of Modern Religious Thought The Library of New Testament Studies Library of Philosophy and Theology

List of Abbreviations LSJ

XXIII

A Greek-English Lexicon, ed. H.G. Liddell, R. Scott, H.S. Jones, R. McKenzie et al. MedCM Media and Cultural Memory* MM The Vocabulary of the Greek Testament, ed. J.H. Moulton and G. Milligan Mnemosyne Mnemosyne. Leiden MoBi Monde de la bible. Paris Montanari The Brill Greek Dictionary of Ancient Greek, ed. Franco Montanari* Month Month. London MTSJ Memphis Theological Seminary Journal* NCB New Century Bible NDST Notre Dame Studies in Theology Neot Neotestamentica NeuTh Neukirchener Theologie NewAcc New Accents* NewDocs New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity, ed. Greg H.R. Horsley and Stephen Llewlyn NGGT Nederduitse Gereformeerde Teologiese Tydskrif NICNT New International Commentary on the New Testament NIDNTT New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology, ed. C. Brown NIGTC New International Greek Testament Commentary NKZ Neue Kirchliche Zeitschrift Novel Novel. Durham, NC* NovT Novum Testamentum. Leiden NovTSup Novum Testamentum. Supplements NPNF Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers NSS Neuer sprachlicher Schlüssel, ed. Haubeck-von Siebenthal* NTAbh Neutestamentliche Abhandlungen NTApo Neutestamentliche Apokryphen in deutscher Übersetzung NTC New Testament Commentary, William Hendriksen NTD Das Neue Testament Deutsch NTGJC The New Testament Gospels in Their Judaic Contexts NTP New Testament Profiles* NTS New Testament Studies NTT Norsk teologisk tidsskrift NTTh New Testament Theology* NTTS New Testament Tools and Studies NTTSD New Testament Tools, Studies, and Documents OrTrad Oral Tradition* OTP Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. J.H. Charlesworth PastPsy Pastoral Psychology PBM Paternoster Biblical Monographs PEGLMBS Proceedings. Eastern Great Lakes and Midwest Biblical Societies* PG Patrologiae cursus completus. Accurante J.-P. Migne. Series Graeca PGL Patristic Greek Lexicon, ed. G.W.H. Lampe PJT Princeton Journal of Theology*

XXIV PL PLL PMPh PNTC Points ProcCom PRSt PrT PSB PTS R&T RAr RBL RBS RechAugPat Religion RelS RevBib RevExp RGG RivBib RNT RTL RW SacEr SANT SBB SBFLA SBL SBLDS SBLEJL SBLGPBS SBLGNT SBLMS SBLSP SBLSS SBR SBT SC SCHNT Schrift SCTh SémBib Semeia SESJ SHCT SHR SIDA

List of Abbreviations Patrologiae cursus completus. Accurante J.-P. Migne. Series Latina Princeton Legacy Library* Princeton Monographs in Philosophy* Pelican New Testament Commentaries Points (Essais)* Proclamation Commentaries* Perspectives in Religious Studies Practical Theology. London Princeton Seminary Bulletin Patristische Texte und Studien Religion & Theology. Pretoria Revue archéologique Review of Biblical Literature Resources for Biblical Study Recherches augustiniennes et patristiques Religion. A Journal of Religion and Religions Religious Studies. London Revista bíblica. Buenos Aires Review and Expositor. Louisville, KY (Die) Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart Rivista biblica. Roma Regensburger Neues Testament Revue théologique de Louvain Reformed World. Geneva Sacris erudiri. Steenbrugge Studien zum Alten und Neuen Testament Stuttgarter Biblische Beiträge Studii Biblici Fransciscani liber annuus Society of Biblical Literature Society of Biblical Literature. Dissertation Series Society of Biblical Literature. Early Judaism and Its Literature Society of Biblical Literature. Global Perspectives on Biblical Scholarship* SBL Greek New Testament (M.W. Holmes) Society of Biblical Literature. Monograph Series Society of Biblical Literature. Seminar Papers Society of Biblical Literature. Semeia Studies* Studies of the Bible and Its Reception Studies in Biblical Theology Sources chrétiennes Studia ad Corpus Hellenisticum Novi Testamenti Schrift. Tijdschrift over de bijbel* Studies in Continental Thought* Sémiotique et bible Semeia. An Experimental Journal for Biblical Critism Suomen Eksegeettisen Seuran julkaisuja Studies in the History of Christian Thought Studies in the Histories of Religion Scripta Instituti Donneriani Aboensis

List of Abbreviations

XXV

SJLA Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity SNT Studien zum Neuen Testament SNTA Studiorum Novi Testamenti auxilia SNTSMS Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series SNTSU Studien zur Neuen Testament und seiner Umwelt Sojourners Sojourners (Sojourners Magazine)* SP Sacra Pagina SPIB Scripta Pontificii Instituti Biblici SPLNJ Studien zur Philosophie und Literatur des 19. Jahrhunderts SQE Synopsis Quattuor Evangeliorum, ed. Kurt Aland SR Studies in Religion SRA Studies on Religion in Africa SSEJC Studies in Scripture in Early Judaism and Christianity ST Studia Theologica SThZ Schweizerische Theologische Zeitschrift STö.H Sammlung Töpelmann. 2. Reihe (Hilfsschriften) Str-B Strack and Billerbeck, Kommentar zum Neuen Testament STusc Sammlung Tusculum. Munich* SUC Schriften des Urchristentums SUNT Studien zur Umwelt des Neuen Testaments SVigChr Supplements to Vigiliae Christianae SW Sämmtliche Werke TANZ Texte und Arbeiten zum neutestamentlichen Zeitalter TAVO Tübinger Atlas des Vorderen Orients TBLNT Theologisches Begriffslexikon zum Neuen Testament TBomp Tascabili Bompiani. Milan* TD Theology Digest TDNT Theological Dictionary of the New Testament TEH Theologische Existenz heute Textile Textile. Cloth and Culture* Them. Themelios Theol Théologie (Paris) Thf Theoforum ThFW Theologie: Forschung und Wissenschaft* THKNT Theologischer Handkommentar zum Neuen Testament TJ Trinity Journal TLG Thesaurus Linguae Graecae TPI Trinity Press International TRE Theologische Real-Enzyklopädie TRu Theologische Rundschau TSAJ Texte und Studien zum antiken Judentum TU Texte und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur TUMSR Trinity University Monograph Series in Religion TWNT Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament TynBul Tyndale Bulletin TynGNT Tyndale Greek New Testament* UB Urban-Bücher UBS United Bible Societies UNT Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament

XXVI

List of Abbreviations

UTB Uni-Taschenbücher UTB.W UTB für Wissenschaft UTB.WG UTB für Wissenschaft: Grosse Reihe VH Vivens Homo. Rivista teologica fiorentina Viator Viator. Medieval and Renaissance Studies* VKGNT Vollständige Konkordanz zum griechischen Neuen Testament Voces Voces. A Journal of Chicana/Latina Studies* VPT Voices in Performance and Text* VRNGG Verhandelingen raakende den natuurlyken en godsdienst, uitgegeven door Teyler’s Godgeleerd Genootschap WBC Word Biblical Commentary WdF Wege der Forschung. Darmstadt WMANT Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Testament WUNT Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament WW Word & World. St. Paul, MN ZBK.NT Zürcher Bibelkommentare. Neues Testament ZDA Zeitschrift für deutsches Altertum (und deutsche Literatur) ZDMG Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft ZNT Zeitschrift für Neues Testament* ZNW Zeitschrift für die Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft ZRGG Zeitschrift für Religions- und Geistesgeschichte ZTK Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche

Introduction This is a book about a first-century Jewish man named Jairus and his twelveyear old nameless daughter who was on the verge of death. It is also about an anonymous woman who had suffered from haemorrhages for twelve years, and about a first-century miracle-worker, Jesus, and his disciples, three of them in particular. It is also about three authors, traditionally called Matthew, Mark and Luke, and about first-century communities in Palestine and the wider Mediterranean world in which their gospel stories were told and passed on. It is about the interaction of readers, both ancient and modern, sympathizers and critics alike, with these ancient stories. And in all this it is about method. The aim of this study is to investigate the famous gospel story of Jesus’s healing of the haemorrhaging woman and the raising of Jairus’s daughter (Mark 5:21–43; Matt 9:18–26; Luke 8:40–56) with the help of various exegetical tools and interpretive reading strategies to find out whether they produce knowledge and understanding of the texts under scrutiny (and if so, what kind of knowledge and understanding), and, conversely, whether the tools and methods to be used are in need of revision under the pressure of the communicative situation in which they are being applied. Hopefully, this undertaking will not only be of help for the guild of biblical studies, but for the interpretation sciences in general.1 This study is structured as follows. Chapter 1 (History and Research) is an extended research report (a Forschungs­bericht) of the episode’s history of interpretation, a journey through time in which a number of once popular, now long-forgotten interpretations and suppressed memories are being reviewed. This survey will create an initial awareness of the exegetical issues involved and of the wide variety of interpretations offered by earlier generations and contemporary scholarship. I will then define common ground and identify a few gaps and blind spots in the current study of the episode. This will set the agenda for further investigation. Chapter 2 (Text and Translation) deals with what is traditionally called philological criticism. Focusing on matters pertaining to word and sentence meaning, grammatical, syntactical and stylistic issues, rhetorical devices 1   See on this, Oda Wischmeyer, ed., Lexikon der Bibelhermeneutik: Begriffe – Methoden – Theorien – Konzepte, de Gruyter Texte (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2009/2013), ix–xxix.

2

Jairus’ Daughter and the Haemorrhaging Woman

and semantics, it delves deep (some will argue, too deep) into the finesses of the individual gospel writers’ use of language and the readers’ understanding of the textual phenomena. At this point the wide range of exegetical decisions to be taken will be made as lucid as possible. Chapter 3 (Structure and Form) examines the structure of the three Synoptic pericopes, their internal cohesion and their placement in the individual gospels. Its aim is to find out if and how the pericopes’ embeddedness in a particular gospel context adds to their meaning. While the general form-critical classification of the episode as a miracle story is virtually undisputed, its function is a matter of unresolved dispute. Why was this story told in the first place? Was it to convey a message about Jesus, as the older form critics believed? Was it to promote a faith commitment and encourage readers to follow the examples of Jairus and the bleeding woman? Or to learn from the girl’s deadly state about one’s own miserable state? Or was it perhaps to promote an egalitarian or at least a woman-friendly view relevant to leadership issues in the early church, as some feminist reader-response critics have suggested? What does the intertwining of the two stories mean for the exegesis of the texts? What are the effects of the Matthaean and Lukan adaptations of Mark’s allegedly “purer” form? Chapter 4 (Tradition and Redaction) takes us back to more traditional historical-critical questions. It is diachronic in its approach and focused on the stories as texts, written artefacts. It studies the texts in the light of their prehistory and editorial transmission. In the light of recent reassessments of tradition- and redaction criticism in favour of orality hypotheses, the question of sources needs to be reopened or at least restated. Chapter 5 (Orality and Performance) ties in with current debates on the nature of textuality, literacy, memory, orality and performance. It seeks to describe and examine recent claims about the inadequacy of the literary mindset over against oral approaches, and explores the implications for our understanding of the pericope and, if possible, for a tentative reconstruction of its prehistory. This, to be sure, is not a main concern for the average orality scholar, but the historical question, I believe, is still a legitimate and relevant one. Chapter 6 (Story and Narrative) deals with narrative criticism and is to some degree an attempt at synthesis of the previous chapters. As recent studies in narrative criticism show, ideology plays a significant role in trying to understand “what the text is all about.” From recent work on socio-critical exegesis, esp. feminist criticism, a number of relevant questions emerge. What is (in the implied author’s view) the identity of the haemorrhaging woman? Is she Jewish or gentile? What, if any, is the role (or not) of Jewish purity regulations? Does the story have anti-Jewish implications? What are the underlying rhetorical agendas of the respective narrators? Why is the story told in this particular way? And how do we know?

Introduction

3

In Chapter 7 (Summary and Conclusions) the implications of the foregoing chapters are spelled out and loose ends tied up: how does a multiple reading strategy help to “understand” the texts? How do competitive research methods add up to establish meaning and foster understanding? For reasons to be explained below I decided to place a chapter on textual criticism at the very end of this investigation (Appendix 1: Text and Transmission), that is, after the actual investigation of the texts. In a second appendix the marginal references in the outer margin of NA 28 and its predecessors are documented and analysed in an attempt to penetrate into the intertextual embeddedness of our pericopes and to test the quality of the now fully revised apparatus (Appendix 2: Text and Intertext). Third, an overview is given of the earliest (second- and third-century) reception of the story, in which the haemorrhaging woman and Jairus’s daughter go their own way, although both become embroiled in gnostic speculation (Appendix 3: Reception and Wirkung). In the bibliographic section I offer a chronological bibliography on the pericopes of Jairus’s daughter and the haemorrhaging woman from 1900 to the present (A), which hopefully helps to get an impression of the flow of scholarship over time, and a general bibliography that includes all works consulted in this project (B). As will be evident from the Table of Content, I assume Markan priority as my working hypothesis throughout the book – but no more than that: I am open to and will engage with alternative solutions to the Synoptic problem. In a sense this exegetical work could not have been written before I had completed my two-volume work on the history of biblical hermeneutics.2 In this work I explored the complex interaction between text and reader, and sought the come to terms with the still-unsolved hermeneutical problem. Biblical exegesis is not only about texts then and there; it is also about readers here and now and about everything in between. In several places of the present work the attentive reader will recognize the impact of Hans-Georg Gadamer, Paul Ricoeur, Anthony Thiselton and Umberto Eco, to name but a few of my hermeneutical sources of inspiration.

2   Arie W. Zwiep, Tussen tekst en lezer: Een historische inleiding in de bijbelse hermeneutiek, 2 vols. (Amsterdam: VU University Press, 2009–2013, 42017–32018). An English summary covering large sections of volume 2 can be found in Arie W. Zwiep, “Bible Hermeneutics from 1950 to the Present: Trends and Developments,” in Handbuch der Bibelhermeneutiken: Von Origenes bis zur Gegenwart, ed. Oda Wischmeyer, de Gruyter Reference (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2016), 933–1008.

Chapter 1

History and Research A. Introduction The story of the raising of Jairus’s daughter and the healing of a haemorrhaging woman belongs to the so-called “triple tradition,” the common material found in the gospels (commonly known as) of Matthew, Mark and Luke.1 The episode is found in Matt 9:18–26, Mark 5:21–43 and Luke 8:40– 56. It has no parallel in the Fourth Gospel, although Karl Ludwig Schmidt long ago surmised a connection with the healing of the royal official’s son in John 4:46–53.2 Some other scholars are impressed by some curious points of correspondence with the episode of the raising of Lazarus in John 11:1–54, such as the death of both characters before the delayed arrival of Jesus (John 11:6, 17; Mark 5:35 par.) and the misunderstood outlook on death as “sleep” (John 11:11–13; Mark 5:39 parr.). All in all, however, in their present gospel 1   An earlier draft of this chapter has been published as Arie W. Zwiep, “Jairus, His Daughter, and the Haemorrhaging Woman (Mk. 5.21–43; Mt. 9.18–26; Lk. 8.40–56): Research Survey of a Gospel Story about People in Distress,” CurBR 13 (2015): 351–387 (in this article German quotations have been translated into English). Brief surveys of (predominantly German) historical-critical scholarship on the pericope can be found in Dagmar Oppel, Heilsam erzählen – erzählend heilen: Die Heilung der Blutflüssigen und die Erweckung der Jairustochter in Mk 5,21–43 als Beispiel markinischer Erzählfertigkeit, BBB 102 (Weinheim: Beltz Athenäum, 1995), 21–46 (with a discussion of actualizations by patristic writers from the fourth to the sixth century on 185–255, 261–263). Marla J. Selvidge, Woman, Cult, and Miracle Recital: A Redactional Critical Investigation on Mark 5:24–34 (Lewisburg: Bucknell University Press; London: Associated University Presses, 1990), 17–30, offers a brief survey of scholarship on the pericope of the haemorrhaging woman (Mark 5:24–34), focusing in particular on the positive (the early church writers and contemporary scholarship, including feminist scholars) and negative (from Luther and Calvin onwards) treatment of the woman. Grant LeMarquand, An Issue of Relevance: A Comparative Study of the Story of the Bleeding Woman (Mark 5:25–34; Matt 9:20–22; Lk 8:43–48) in North Atlantic and African Contexts, BTAf 5 (New York: Lang, 2004), describes and compares the notions of healing (21–118), woman (119–167), and blood (169–216) in the pericope, comparing North Atlantic and African approaches. See on both episodes further John P. Meier, Mentor, Message, and Miracles, vol. 2 of A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus, 5 vols., ABRL (New York: Doubleday, 1994), 708–710, 755–756 (the healing of the haemorrhaging woman), 777–788, 841–850 (the raising of Jairus’s daughter). 2   Karl Ludwig Schmidt, Der Rahmen der Geschichte Jesu: Literarkritische Untersuchungen zur ältesten Jesusüberlieferung (Berlin: Trowitzsch, 1919; repr. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1964), 73–74.

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Chapter 1: History and Research

setting they are entirely different and unrelated stories, according to most biblical scholars to date.3 The differences between the three versions – especially between Matthew on the one hand and Mark-Luke on the other – are well-known and numerous attempts have been made to explain them. While in Matthew the petitioner is an unnamed ruler (ἄρχων εἷς, Matt 9:18), both Mark and Luke assert that his name was Jairus and that he served as a synagogue leader (εἷς τῶν ἀρχισυναγώγων ὀνόματι Ἰάϊρος, Mark 5:22; ἀνὴρ ᾧ ὄνομα Ἰάϊρος … ἄρχων τῆς συναγωγῆς, Luke 8:41). According to Matthew, on the first meeting with Jesus, the father informed Jesus that his daughter had just died (ἄρτι ἐτελεύτησεν, Matt 9:18) and made a request for him to come along to raise her from the dead (ζήσεται, Matt 9:18).4 According to Mark and Luke, the child was on the verge of death but still alive when the father came to Jesus (ἐσχάτως ἔχει, lit. “she has it lastly,” i.e. “she is on the verge of death,” Mark 5:23; αὐτὴ ἀπέθνῃσκεν “she was dying,” Luke 8:42): his request was for the healing of his daughter, not for her resuscitation. In comparison to Mark and Luke some features are strikingly absent from Matthew, such as the accompanying crowd,5 the haemorrhaging woman’s address to Jesus (Mark 5:33; Luke 8:47), the dramatic report of the messengers from the ruler’s house evoking Jesus’s words of comfort (Mark 5:35–36; Luke 8:49–50), and the information about the girl’s age, which happens to correspond to the duration of the haemorrhaging woman’s illness (Mark 5:42; Luke 8:42). Furthermore, at the height of the story Matthew allows no bystanders to witness Jesus performing the resurrection miracle (Matt 9:25), while in Mark and Luke the room where the miracle takes place tends to become somewhat overcrowded with Jesus, Jairus, his daughter, his wife and three of the disciples, Peter, James and John (Mark 5:37, 40; Luke 8:51). In addition, the narrative con3   See Rudolf Schnackenburg, Das Johannesevangelium II: Kommentar zu Kapitel 5–12, 4 vols., HThKNT 4 (Freiburg: Herder, 1971), 428–429, for a list of corresponding items. He reaches the conclusion: “Im ganzen gehen die Berührungen kaum über formgeschichtliche Elemente hinaus” (429). See also Jacob Kremer, Lazarus: Die Geschichte einer Auferstehung: Text, Wirkung und Botschaft von Joh 11,1–46 (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1985), 43– 45. For a survey of recent scholarship on the relation of the Gospel of John and the Synoptics in general, see Frans Neirynck, “VI. The Gospel of John,” The Four Gospels 1992: Festschrift Frans Neirynck, BETL 100 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, Peeters, 1992), 1721–2221; idem, “John and the Synoptics: 1975–1990,” in John and the Synoptics, ed. Adelbert Denaux, BETL 101 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, Peeters, 1992), 3–62; Dwight Moody Smith, John Among the Gospels (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, [1992] 22001), and the relevant sections in Tom Thatcher, ed., What We Have Heard from the Beginning: The Past, Present, and Future of Johannine Studies (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2007). 4  Cf. ein “dann wird sie wieder lebendig.” 5   Mark 5:21, 24, 27, 30–31; Luke 8:40, 42, 45; cf. 8:47. There is, in fact, a reference to “the crowd” (ὁ ὄχλος) in Matt 9:23, 25, but that crowd corresponds to the θόρυβος in front of the house of Jairus in Mark 5:38, not to the crowd that accompanied Jesus and Jairus from the start.

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text of the Matthaean version, notably its spatial setting, differs from Mark and Luke considerably: Jesus and his disciples seem to be in a house in the company of “many tax collectors and sinners” where they are being visited by disciples of John the Baptist (Matt 9:9–13, 14–17),6 whereas according to Mark and Luke Jesus had just disembarked from the boat that had brought him back from the country of the Gerasenes and was now by the lake side surrounded by a large crowd, presumably in open space (Mark 5:21; Luke 8:40). Further discrepancies can be added but those listed here seem to be the most prominent and have understandably been subjected to much painstaking research from an early period onward. In the history of interpretation numerous explanations have been offered to account for these differences, with differing degrees of complexity, ingenuity and plausibility. In what follows I will map the major lines of the history of interpretation to see where a common ground has been found and where such agreement has not yet been reached. This will clear the ground for further investigation.

B. Harmonizing Attempts In precritical times the obvious discrepancies between the various versions of the story have not gone unobserved and were sometimes given ample treatment, not infrequently for dogmatic and apologetic purposes. Under the influence of a strong conviction of the unity of Scripture, it was simply held impossible that Scripture would contradict itself or contain any error in what it affirmed. For this reason harmonization has always been a popular and attractive means to tackle so-called “alleged discrepancies,” including those in the present pericopes, although not each expositor or commentator felt the urge to advance a solution or give an opinion on the matter. For example, Tatian seems to have willingly passed over (or ignored) the discrepancies in his Diatessaron by simply conflating the more elaborate versions of Mark and Luke, allowing little or no influence from Matthew at this point.7 When,

6   In Mark and Luke this material is found at a different location, namely in Mark 2:13–17, 18–22 and Luke 5:27–32, 33–39 (the Call of Levi and the Question about Fasting). 7   Tatian, Diatessaron 12 (ANF 9:62). See on Tatian, Klaus-Gunther Wesseling, “Tatian der Syrer,” BBKL 9 (1996): 552–571. Cf. also Ephrem the Syrian, Comm. Diatessaron 7.1–27, FC 54/1:272–293, where the haemorrhaging woman receives much more attention than the dying girl. In the Old-Saxon Heliand, a ninth-century life of Jesus in the tradition of the Diatessaron, the story is absent, although it does contain the raising of the widow’s son at Nain (Luke 7:11– 17) (26:2167–2231) and the raising of Lazarus (John 11:1–44) (49:4025–4117). See Heliand: Een Christusgedicht uit de vroege middeleeuwen. Uit het Oudsaksisch vertaald en ingeleid door Jaap van Vredendaal, aangevuld met fragmenten van de Oudsaksische Genesis vertaald door Redbad Veenbaas, met medewerking van Willem van der Meiden (Amsterdam: Sun, 2006).

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however, the whole problem was not passed over in silence,8 the solution was usually sought in either psychological or literary or historical terms. 1. Psychologizing Explanations First, in a homily on Matthew John Chrysostom (ca. 349–407 CE) neatly wove the three synoptic accounts into one coherent, conflated narrative. Observing the obvious conflict with Luke,9 who mentions the arrival of someone saying that Jairus’s daughter had died, he suggested in a homily on Matt 9:18 that the expression ἄρτι ἐτελεύτησεv “was that of one [sc. Jairus] conjecturing from the time of his journeying, or exaggerating his affliction” (στοχαζομένου ἦν ἀπὸ τοῦ καιροῦ τῆς ὁδοιπορίας, ἢ αὔξοντος τὴν συμφοράν), a reaction which Chrysostom thought was fully understandable in such a moment of great distress.10 Obviously, the ruler simply thought that by now his daughter had died and he was only confirmed of it when the messengers from his house came to tell him so. Chrysostom’s solution was taken up by Theophylact, Luther, Grotius, Johann Albrecht Bengel, Johann Peter Lange, and many more.11 Second, Augustine of Hippo (354–430 CE) also clearly acknowledged the differences between Matthew and the other gospel writers. Like Chrysostom, he opted for a psychological explanation but with a somewhat different twist: Luke and Mark reported what Jairus said on the occasion (namely that his daughter was on the verge of death), Matthew what he wished and thought, namely that his daughter who he thought dead by now would be raised from the death: “duo itaque posuerunt, quid dixerit Iairus, Matthaeus autem, quid voluerit atque cogitaverit.”12 Third, in a similar vein the Reformed New Testament scholar William Hendriksen argued in more recent times for some sort of editorial conflation: “According to Mark and Luke, Jairus had first asked Jesus to heal the child; then, when informed about her death, had been urged by the Lord not   So e.g. Frederic W. Farrar, The Life of Christ, 2 vols. (London: Cassell, Petter & Galpin, 1874, 12n.d.), 1:353–358, whose retelling of the story amounts to no more than a conflation of the three synoptic versions into a new harmonized version. 9   Mark’s Gospel was less popular or at least less cited at the time than Matthew’s and Luke’s. 10   John Chrysostom, Hom. Matt. 31.1 (PG 57:370; Lat. 369: “a tempore in itinere insumpto conjicientis fuisse, vel calamitatem augentis”; trans. NPNF1 10:205). 11   Johann Albrecht Bengel, Gnomon Novi Testamenti in quo ex nativa verborum vi simplicitas, profunditas, concinnitas, salubritas sensuum coelestium indicatur, ed. Ernst Bengel and Paul Steudel (Stuttgart: Steinkopf, [1742] 81891), 66: “ἐτελεύτησεν, mortua est. Ita dixit ex conjectura aut post nuntium acceptum de filia mortua, quam reliquerat (magna vi fidei) morti proximam.” Other references in Bernhard Weiss, Das Matthäus-Evangelium, KEK 1/1 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1883, 91898), 188 n.** 12   Augustine, Cons. 2.28.66 (CLCLT). Cf. Helmut Merkel, Widersprüche zwischen den Evangelien: Ihre polemische und apologetische Behandlung in der Alten Kirche bis zu Augustin, WUNT 13 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1971), 218–261, esp. 238. 8

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to despair but to believe. So he now renews his request in modified form, namely, that Jesus may lay his hand upon the dead girl…”13 2. Two Different Events? While these attempts tried to harmonize two or three reports of what presumably had been one and the same event, other scholars felt uncomfortable with these solutions and tried to alleviate the tensions by claiming that Matthew and Mark-Luke were simply reporting two different incidents. Pride of place for this line of interpretation goes to the sixteenth-century Lutheran scholar Andreas Osiander (1537), who was otherwise notorious for his ingenious harmonizations.14 He held that Matthew reported the raising of a daughter of an unnamed leader or government official (ἄρχωv, i.e. “magistratus rei publicae gubernandae praefectus”), whereas Mark and Luke related the raising of the daughter of Jairus, the synagogue leader (ἀρχισυvάγωγoς, i.e. “ceremoniarum magister”). In Osiander’s opinion, the intervening incident with the haemorrhaging woman reported by both traditions related to two different women and to two different historical events, one reported by Matthew, the other by Mark and Luke.15 The eighteenth-century scholar Gottlob Christian Storr (1786), the founder of the Old Tübingen School, also argued for two different occasions on which Jesus both raised a girl back to life and healed a woman with haemorrhages.16

13  William Hendriksen, The Gospel of Matthew, NTC (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth Trust, [1973] 1974), 430 (my italics). This line of interpretation persists in his subsequent commentaries on Mark [The Gospel of Mark, NTC (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth Trust, [1975] 1976), 200–217] and Luke [The Gospel of Luke, NTC (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth Trust, [1978] 1979), 454–469. Cf. Mark, 203–204: “Each evangelist reports something not reported by the others.” 14  Andreas Osiander, Harmoniae evangelicae libri III graece et latine (1537), vol. 6 of Gesamt­ausgabe: Schriften und Briefe 1535–1538, ed. Gerhard Müller and Gottfried Seebass, 10 vols. (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1985), cap. xliii. Cf. on Osiander’s harmonizing activities, Gerhard Müller, “Osianders ‘Evangelienharmonie’,” in Histoire de l’exégèse au XVIe siècle: Textes du colloque international tenu à Génève en 1976, ed. Olivier Fatio and Pierre Fraenkel, EPH 34 (Geneva: Droz, 1978), 256–264; Dietrich Wünsch, “Evangelienharmonie,” TRE 10 (1982): 631–633 (4.2), and for a general assessment: Gottfried Seebass, “Osiander, Andreas,” TRE 25 (1995): 507–515. 15  Dietrich Wünsch, Evangelienharmonien im Reformationszeitalter, AzKG 52 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1983), 141: “Daß in Zusammenhang mit beiden Wundern von der Heilung einer blutflüssigen Frau erzählt werde, sei nicht weiter verwunderlich, da man damit rechnen müsse, daß in Wirklichkeit zahllose Frauen, die mit dieser Krankheit behaftet waren, sich zu Christus drängten, um geheilt zu werden.” 16   Gottlob Christian Storr, Über den Zweck der evangelischen Geschichte und der Briefe Johannis (Tübingen: Heerbrandt, 1786, 21810), 351–355, also cited by David Friedrich Strauss, Das Leben Jesu kritisch bearbeitet, 2 vols. (Tübingen: Osiander, 1836, 41840; Nachdruck: Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1969), 2:95, 134 (= Leben Jesu KB).

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3. A Translation Error? Given the close agreements of Mark and Luke against Matthew, a number of interpreters have tried to explain Matthew’s disagreement in terms of a translation issue. Already in the early eighteenth century Johannes Olearius (1713) wished to translate the words of the Matthaean ruler as est morti proxima, “she is near death” rather than “she has just died,” thereby conforming Matthew to the others.17 Almost a century later he was followed by the theologian and classical philologist Christian Gottlieb Kühnöl with the same explanation (1807).18 In his study on the original language of Jesus a century later, Arnold Meyer made a passing reference to older attempts (e.g. Johann David Michaelis) to detect a Hebrew original behind ἄρτι ἐτελεύτησεν supposedly to mean “sie liegt am sterben” (‫)עתה מתה‬.19 In more recent times this harmonizing translation of Matt 9:18 has been adopted in the Holman Christian Standard Bible, “My daughter is near death” ( hcsb), the MacDonald Idiomatic Translation of the New Testament, “My daughter right now is on the verge of death” (mit), and in the 1973 niv New Testament, “My daughter is at the point of death”.20 The Dutch New Testament scholar Jakob van Bruggen, in a similar vein, interprets the phrase somewhat ambivalently as “the girl has entered the terminal phase.” 21 In his commentary on Luke, another Dutch New Testament scholar, Seakle Greijdanus, claimed that Matthew’s version represents the historical order of events over against that of Mark-Luke.22 Hence the meeting with Jairus did not take place immediately after Jesus’s return from the other side of the lake but only after the events referred to in Matt 9:1–17, events that Luke had already reported earlier in his gospel.23 Matthew’s ταῦτα αὐτοῦ 17  Johannes Olearius, Observationes sacrae ad evangelium Matthaei (Leipzig: Georgi, 1713), 269–272. 18  Christian Gottlieb Kühnöl (also spelled Kuinoel, Kuinöl, Kuinoelius), Evangelium Matthaei, vol. 1 of Commentarius in libros Novi Testamenti historicos, ed. Johann Georg von Kulpis (Leipzig: Barth, 1807, 31823), 263. 19  Arnold Meyer, Jesu Muttersprache: Das galiläische Aramäisch in seiner Bedeutung für die Erklärung der Reden Jesu und der Evangelien überhaupt (Freiburg: Mohr Siebeck, 1896), 104. Meyer says in fact that this proposal was quite popular at the time (“Dieser Vorschlag hat vielen Beifall gefunden”). 20   Consulted from BibleWorks 9.0 (no longer in the 1983 edition of niv). 21   Jakob van Bruggen, Matteüs: Het evangelie voor Israël, CNT derde serie (Kampen: Kok, 1990), 160–161: “Deze uitdrukking … kan ook te kennen geven dat het meisje de stervensfase is binnengegaan (‘haar einde is aangebroken’) … En dit toch niet ten koste van de waarheid … Mogelijk heeft [Matteüs] nog in rekening gebracht dat het in werkelijkheid om een gefaseerd verzoek ging door een formulering te kiezen die enigzins open is (‘zij is nu aan haar einde gekomen’).” 22  Seakle Greijdanus, Het heilig Evangelie volgens Lukas: Hoofdstukken 1–12, KNT 3/1 (Amsterdam: H.A. van Bottenburg, 1940; repr. Utrecht: Wristers, 1983), 391–392. 23   Greijdanus, Lukas, 1:391–392: “Bij Lucas en Marcus zouden wij den indruk krijgen, dat terstond bij ’s Heeren terugkeer Jaïrus tot Hem kwam, en dat de Heere dus juist op tijd hier weer

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λαλοῦντος αὐτοῖς (Matt 9:18), so argued Greijdanus, marks an explicit temporal connection with the preceding events.24

C. Allegorical Interpretation A more subtle strategy to tackle the interpretive problems surrounding the gospel pericopes is the interpretation of the story in terms of allegory, a strategy applied not only to alleviate discrepancies and contradictions, but also to enhance the relevance of the story for contemporary readers. 25 A widely attested line of interpretation beginning with Hilary, Ambrose, Augustine and Jerome likes to see Jairus as a type or allegory of the Jewish people (“the Synagogue”) and, exploiting the contrast with Jairus and the fact that the woman’s national identity and her religious background are left unstated, understand the haemorrhaging woman as a type of the Gentiles (“the Church”), who had come to faith before Israel received salvation.26 A variation to this line of interpretation is found in the oldest preserved Latin commentary on the Gospels, written by bishop Fortunatianus and dated to the mid-fourth century. Commenting on Matt 9:18–26, he takes the woman’s twelve years of the flow of blood as a type of the Jewish people, her healing as a reference to the conversion of Jews through the preaching of the apostles, and the girl (not the haemorrhaging woman!) as a figure of the Church: “The endurance of the flow of blood for twelve years shows her as the character of the Jewish people. The twelve years are the twelve tribes of terug was. Indien hij even later ware teruggekeerd, dan zou Jaïrus wel niet tot Hem gekomen zijn, omdat hij aan opwekking zijner dochter uit den dood door den Heere niet gedacht zou hebben, waaraan hij nu nauwelijks kon gelooven, vss 49 en 50, of ook ware het meisje dan reeds begraven geweest.” 24   Greijdanus, Lukas, 1:392. 25   Henri de Lubac, Exégèse médiévale: Les quatre sens de l’Écriture, 4 vols., Theol(P) 42 (Paris: Aubier, 1959–1964); Jon Whitman, ed., Interpretation and Allegory: Antiquity to the Modern Period, BSIH 101 (Leiden: Brill, 2000); Arie W. Zwiep, Tussen tekst en lezer: Een historische inleiding in de bijbelse hermeneutiek, 2 vols. (Amsterdam: VU University Press, 2009, 42017), 1:36–260. Cf. Wolfgang Iser, Der Akt des Lesens: Theorie ästhetischer Wirkung, UTB 636 (Munich: Fink, 1976, 41994), 31, calls “symmetry” (harmonization) “eine Struktur der Bewältigung, vom Druck des Unbekannten zu entlasten, um es in der Abgeschlossenheit eines ausbalancierten Systems beherrschbar zu machen.” 26   See e.g. Hilary of Poitiers, Exp. Matt. 9.6–7 (CLCLT); Augustine, Serm. 77.8 (CLCLT): “Filia illa archisynagogi significabat populum Judaeorum … [i]lla vero mulier quae fluxum sanguinis patiebatur, Ecclesiam figurabat ex Gentibus”; Ambrose, Exp. Luc. 6.54–64 (CCSL 14:192–196); Petrus Chrysologus, Coll. serm. 33 (CCSL 24:186–190); 36.6 (CLCLT); anonymous (from Scriptores Celtigenae), Exp. Marc. 5 (CCSL 82:30); Christianus Druthmari, Exp. Matt. 33 (PL 106:1338–1341); anonymous (from Scriptores Hiberniae minores), Comm. Luc. 8 (CCSL 108C:71–73); Thomas Aquinas, Catena aurea in Marcum 5.2 (CLCLT).

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Israel. The flow of blood is the synagogue (‘fluxus sanguinis est synagoga’) which can be imagined as a woman running out of blood, that is through killing all the righteous people and prophets; it finally raged against the Lord himself…. [T]here are some from the Jews who believe through the preaching of the apostles… [T]he girl is the figure of the Church (‘Puella enim ecclesiae habet figuram’).” 27 A fairly representative example of how early mediaeval interpreters applied the allegorical method to their reading of the pericope can be found in the work of the famous Benedictine monk at the Northumbrian monastery of Saint Peter at Monkwearmouth, and at Saint Paul’s (in modern Jarrow), the Venerable Bede (673–735 CE). Bede combined a keen eye for exegetical detail with an allegorical application in the tradition of Hilary, Ambrose and Jerome: In this reading the ruler of the synagogue begs for the salvation of his daughter, but while the Lord is coming to his house a woman who has a flow of blood catches his attention first and anticipates the healing (“praeripit sanitatem”). Then the daughter of the ruler of the synagogue reaches the desired healing, being recalled indeed from death to life. In this reading the salvation of the human race is displayed, which was dispensed when the Lord came in the flesh in such a way that first some people out of Israel came to faith, then “the full number of the Gentiles came in, and so all Israel might be saved” (Rom 11:25–26). As for the ruler of the synagogue, and why he came to the Lord to ask on behalf of his daughter, who is he understood to be better than Moses himself? For this reason he is aptly named Jairus, i.e. one who enlightens, or who is enlightened (“id est inluminans sive inluminatus”), because he received words of life to give to us. Thus through them he enlightens others, and was himself enlightened by the Holy Spirit, whereby he was able to write or teach the life-giving precepts … The careful reader (“diligens lector”) will ask why the evangelist, in explaining the words of the Saviour (i.e. “Talitha cumi,” Mark 5:41), inserted on his own initiative “I say to you.” For in the Syriac [i.e. Aramaic] saying which he has quoted no more is said than “Little girl, arise.” Perhaps he thought that this ought to be done so as to express the force of the Lord’s command. He was thus taking care to convey to his readers the meaning of the speaker rather than the actual words (“magis sensum loquentis quam ipsa verba suis”). For it is also customary in references to the Old Testament testimonies for evangelists and apostles to take care to give the meaning of the prophecy rather than the words. So, then, taking the little girl by the hand, the Lord revived her, because, unless the hands of the Jews, defiled with blood, are first washed, their synagogue is dead and will not arise (“sinagoga eorum mortua non consurgit”).28

Once on the track of allegory, many details in the story received new significance. For example, the alleged meaning of the name Jairus, “enlightening” 27    Fortunatianus Aquileiensis, Comm. Ev. 46–48; text Commentarii in evangelia, ed. Lukas J. Dorfbauer, CSEL 103 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2017), 165–166; trans. Commentary on the Gospels: English Translation and Introduction, trans. H.A.G. Houghton, CSEL (Extra Seriem) (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2017), 44–45 (italics original). 28   The Venerable Bede, Exp. Marc. 2.5.22–41 (CCSL 120:495–496, 500); trans. Barnabas Lindars, “The New Testament in the Middle Ages,” in John Rogerson, Christopher Rowland and Barnabas Lindars, The Study and Use of the Bible, HCTh 2 (Basingstoke: Marshall Pickering; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988), 277–278. See also also in Bede, Exp. Luc. 3 (CLCLT).

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or “enlightened,” an interpretation which can be traced back to Jerome, 29 often led to statements about the enlightening function of the Mosaic Law and the indispensable enlightenment by the Holy Spirit.30 An exception is an anonymous eight-century writer from the Scriptores Hiberniae minores, who suggests the name Jairus means “Helper” (“Iairus adiutor interpraetatur”).31 According to Hilary of Poitiers (fourth century), the tassels of Jesus’s garment stood for the gift of the Holy Spirit,32 while Augustine related them to the apostle Paul as an indication of his humble position before Christ.33 Christian of Stavelot, writing in the second half of the ninth century, was convinced that Jairus’s prostration at the feet of Jesus was an act of acknowledging (lit. “venerating”) the incarnation (“ad pedes ejus cadere, est incarnationem ejus venerari”),34 an interpretation also adopted by Thomas Aquinas.35 And predictably, the command of Jesus to give the girl to eat has been understood in eucharistic terms from early times.36   Jerome, Nom. hebr. (CLCLT, ed. P. de Lagarde 65): “Iairus inluminans vel inluminatus.”   Christian of Stavelot (ninth century), Matt. 33 (PL 106:1338): “Iairus id est illuminatus quia a deo illuminatus est lumine fidei et scientia legis”; anonymous (from Scriptores Celtigenae) (seventh century), Exp. Marc. 5 (CCSL 82:30): “Iairus, sive ‘inluminans’ sive ‘inluminatus’ interpretatur, id est Iudaicus populus umbra litterae deposita spiritu inlustratus et inluminans”; Heiricus Autissiodorensis (ninth century), Hom. Pars aestiva 45 (CLCLT): “Per quem archisynagogum, intelligitur Moyses et dictus est Iairus: nam Iairus interpretatur illuminatus sive illuminans”; Hrabanus Maurus (eighth/ninth century), Exp. Matt. 3 (CCCM 174): “Unde bene Iairus (id est inluminans sive inluminatus) vocatur. Qui accepit verba vitae dare nobis, et per haec ceteros inluminat; et ipse a Spiritu sancto, quo vitalia monita scribere vel docere posset, inluminatus est”; also Sedulius Scotus (mid-ninth century), Matt. 1.1.9; Paschasius Radbertus (eight/ninth century), Exp. Matt. 12.5 (CCCM 56A): “Iairus quippe inluminans vel inluminatus interpretatur. Inluminatus autem a lege et prophetis per gratiam Sancti Spiritus”; Thomas Aquinas (thirteenth century), Catena aurea in Marcum 5.2: “Iairus, sive illuminans, sive illuminatus interpretatur; idest Iudaicus populus, umbra litterae deposita, spiritu illustratus et illuminatus”; idem, Catena aurea in Lucam 8.7: “… unde bene Iairus idest illuminans vel illuminatus, vocatur: quia qui accipit verba vitae dare nobis, et per hoc ceteros illuminat, ipse a spiritu sancto illuminatur”; idem, Catena aurea in Matt. 9.4 (quoting Rabanus): “… dicitur Iairus, idest illuminans, sive illuminaturus, quia accepit verba vitae dare nobis, et per hoc cunctos illuminat ipse a spiritu sancto illuminatus.” 31   Anonymous, Comm. Luc. 8 (CCSL 108C:71–73). 32   Hilary of Poitiers, Exp. Matt. 9.6 (CLCLT): “fimbriam vestis per fidem festinat adtingere, donum videlicet Spiritus sancti de Christi corpore modo fimbriae exeuntis cum apostolis conversata contingere…” 33   Augustine, Serm. 77.8 (CLCLT): “Fac vestem Christi quasi Apostolos. Ibi fimbria Paulus erat: hoc est, extremus et minimus.” 34   Christian of Stavelot (Christianus Stabulensis), Matt. 33 (PL 106:1338). 35   Thomas Aquinas, Catena aurea in Marcum 5.2: “Iairus … procidens ad pedes verbi, idest ad incarnationem Iesu se humilians…” (CLCLT). 36   So e.g. Ambrose, Exp. Luc. 6.63 (CCSL 14:196): “Panis enim caelestis est dei verbum. inde et illa sapientia, quae divini corporis et sanguinis sacrosancta altaria replevit alimentis, venite, inquit, edite panes meos et bibite vinum, quod miscui vobis.” 29

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D. Historical-Critical Theories Since the Enlightenment in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries these harmonizing attempts and allegorical interpretations gradually lost their attractiveness and their credibility, and this can be said to be true up to the present.37 Few biblical scholars would nowadays be content to harmonize the stories and smooth over the differences so easily. However, the textual phenomena and claims still require clarification. Changed perspectives and new methods of interpretation allowed biblical interpreters to approach the whole issue from new angles.38 1. The Enlightenment’s Changed Worldview Especially under the influence of post-Cartesian empiricist thinkers such as John Locke (1632–1704)39 and David Hume (1711–1776),40 biblical schol37   A notable (and somewhat idiosyncratic) exception to the wholesale dismissal of allegory among modern critical scholars (apart from the mythic interpretations to be discussed below) can be found in the work of the Dutch scholar Karel Hanhart, De tragedie voorbij: het subversieve Evangelie van Marcus na de verwoesting van Jeruzalem (Vught: Skandalon, 2013), 88–91. Working in the tradition of the so-called Amsterdam School of Exegesis (on which, see Zwiep, Tussen tekst en lezer, 2:111–114), he takes the name Jairus as a symbol for Yair (Ιαϊρ), the judge known to Mark from the Septuagint (Num 32:41 par) and usually associated with “the villages of Yair” (Ἐπαύλεις Ιαϊρ: Num 32:41; Judg 10:4; cf. Deut 3:14; Josh 13:30 (τὰς κώμας Ιαϊρ); 1 Chr 2:23 (τὰς κώμας Ιαϊρ), at the time Mark composed his gospel situated in the region of the Decapolis and by then occupied territory. The whole episode, according to Hanhart, is a midrash on the name Jairus. Legio (Mark 5:7) represents the brutal forces of the Roman army that had invaded the country and destroyed the Temple in 70 CE; the haemorrhaging woman stands for the oppressed and humiliated inhabitants of the country. The vagueness of her illness suggests, according to Hanhart, that she was a victim of rape by a Roman soldier (“De geschiedenis leert dat verkrachting een geducht wapen is om een bevolking te vernederen,” 90), and her condition had also affected Jairus’s daughter [“Het meisje deelt als gevolg van die verkrachting in de taboe van ‘onreinheid’. Zij had als twaalf­jarige vrouw de huwbare leeftijd bereikt. Een huwelijk was echter voor haar uitgesloten. Ze wil (sic) daarom niet verder leven (echatoos echei, 5,23)” (90, his italics)]. Hanhart’s interpretation is part of a complex theory that reads the entire Gospel of Mark as “a Christian-Judeo midrash (paschal haggada) in the form of a Greek tragedy,” composed to come to terms with the desolated post-70 situation of the people of Judea (23–38 and passim). 38  See Zwiep, Tussen tekst en lezer, 1:334–397, and the literature cited there. 39  John Locke, An Essay concerning Human Understanding, ed. Peter H. Nidditch (Oxford: Clarendon, [1690] 1979); idem, The Reasonableness of Christianity, with A Discourse of Miracles and Part of A Third Letter concerning Toleration, ed. Ian Thomas Ramsey, LMRT (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, [1695] 1958). See also Nicholas Wolterstorff, John Locke and the Ethics of Belief, CSRCT 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996). 40  David Hume, An Enquiry concerning Human Understanding: A Critical Edition, The Clarendon Edition of the Works of David Hume 3, ed. Tom L. Beauchamp (Oxford: Clarendon, 2000, corr. pb 2006), 83–99 (Section 10 “On Miracles”). See also Robert J. Fogelin, A Defense of Hume on Miracles, PMPh (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2003); Alan Bailey and

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ars since the Enlightenment have increasingly felt an unease with the naive cosmology that seems to undergird the story, especially with regard to the claim that a dead person had been raised from the dead and that uncontrolled “magical powers” were supposed to be involved in the healing of the haemorrhaging woman. Since the Enlightenment the problem is not so much a discrepancy between two or three different reports or between one or more different incidents, as it was the case in the precritical age, but a full-blown clash between two competing worldviews, the biblical (mythical) cosmology that took supernatural intervention in human affairs for granted and the enlightened worldview of the Age of Reason that allowed no divine intervention in the human course of events.41 2. F.D.E. Schleiermacher and the Apparent Death Theory According to Friedrich Schleiermacher (1864), the girl had not really died but had slipped into a coma (“Scheintod”), as Jesus intimated himself when he said to the bystanders that “the girl is not dead but asleep” and explicitly addressed the girl, thereby showing that he was convinced that not all her faculties had ceased to function.42 The theory of a coma or apparent death has attracted a number of scholars both before and after Schleiermacher.43 The famous German rationalist scholar H.E.G. Paulus had argued in his Dan O’Brien, Hume’s Enquiry concerning Human Understanding: Reader’s Guide (London: Continuum, 2006); Robert A. Larmer, “Interpreting Hume on Miracles,” RelS 45 (2009): 325–338. 41   See Howard C. Kee, Miracle in the Early Christian World: A Study in Sociohistorical Method (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983), 1–41; Bernd Kollmann, Jesus und die Christen als Wundertäter: Studien zu Magie, Medizin und Schamanismus in Antike und Christentum, FRLANT 170 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996), 18–60. 42   Friedrich Daniel Ernst Schleiermacher, Das Leben Jesu: Vorlesungen an der Univer­sität zu Berlin im Jahr 1832. Aus Schleiermacher’s handschriftlichem Nachlasse und Nach­schriften seiner Zuhörer, ed. Karl August Rütenik, SW 1/6 (Berlin: Reimer, 1864), 232–233: “Von der Tochter des Jairus sagt Christus ausdrücklich, sie sei nicht gestorben sondern sie schliefe; man kann dies also nicht als eine eigentliche Todtenerwekkung ansehen ohne mit seinen eignen Worten im Widerspruch zu stehen” (233). In opposition to this view: Johannes Jacobus van Oosterzee, Het leven van Jezus, 3 vols. (Utrecht: Kemink, 1849), 2:413–416. 43  So already e.g. Karl Friedrich Bahrdt, Karl Heinrich Venturini, Heinrich Eberhard Gottlob Paulus, Johann Leonhard Hug, Karl August Hase, and Hermann Olshausen. See the relevant sections in Albert Schweitzer, Geschichte der Leben-Jesu-Forschung, with an Introduction and Preface by James M. Robinson, UTB 1302 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1906, 9 1984). In England, the deist Thomas Woolston also fiercely rejected the literal reading of the texts, which he thought was absurd, and defended a mystical reading in line with the Church Fathers. See his A Discourse on the Miracles of Our Saviour in View of the Present Controversy Between Infidels and Apostates, 6 vols. (London: s.n., 1727–1730), 2:8–27 (the haemorrhaging woman); 5:1–71 (raisings from the dead, esp. Lazarus and Jairus’s daughter). In the case of the raising of Jairus’s daughter, he doubted whether she had really died: “And it is not impossible, but the passionate Skreams of the Feminine by-standers might fright her into Fits, that bore the Appearance of Death” (5:27).

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Leben Jesu of 1828 that the real miracle was not that the girl had been raised from the dead but that she was prevented from a premature burial (“Rettung von zu früh Begrabenwerden”).44 He held that the girl had been struck by a sudden breakdown of her nervous system, as was not untypical of girls of her age: she was “in einer plötzlichen Erstarrung, wie sie bey einer Morgenländerin von zwölf Jahren in den Entwicklungsperioden leicht eintreten konnte” and “in einem krankhaften Todesschlummer” (246). A century later, Friedrich Fenner commented in a 1928 dissertation that in the cases of Jairus’s daughter, the son of the widow at Nain, and Tabitha we should reckon with the possibility of “a deathlike condition” (“eines todesähnlichen Zustandes”) caused by hysteria: Das Vorkommen derartiger, durch Trübung des Bewußtseins charakteristischer Zustände, bei denen eine völlige Starre der Extremitäten, Auf hebung der Sensibilität, Abschwächung der Atmung und Herztätigkeit eintritt und bei denen der Kranke mit ausdruckslosen Gesicht und starrem Blick Tage, Wochen, Monate hindurch in hypnoidem Zustand liegt…, steht gerade bei Hysterie fest.45

A variation has been put forward by Vincent Taylor. He made a distinction between fact and report to make sense of the seemingly conflicting data. He believed that the evangelists themselves, Mark included, considered the incident with Jairus’s daughter clearly as a case of resurrection from the dead, but he also noted that he was less sure about the historical reality behind their descriptions. After all, “ἀνέστη may mean no more than that she arose from a trance-like sleep.”46 The coma or apparent death theory was also defended by Cuthbert Hamilton Turner, who thought that the actual miracle was that Jesus knew

44  Heinrich Eberhard Gottlob Paulus, Das Leben Jesu als Grundlage einer reinen Geschichte des Urchristentums dargestellt durch eine allgemeinverständliche Geschicht­ erzählung über alle Abschnitte der vier Evangelien und eine wortgetreue, durch Zwischen­sätze erklärte Ueber­setzung des nach der Zeitfolge und synoptisch-geordneten Textes derselben, 2 vols. (Heidelberg: Winter, 1828), 1:244–248. 45  Friedrich Fenner, Die Krankheit im Neuen Testament: Eine religions- und medizingeschichtliche Untersuchung, UNT 18 (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1930), 64. This interpretation was more recently adopted by Eugen Drewermann, Tiefenpsychologie und Exegese, 2 vols. (Olten: Walter, 1985), 2:279, 297, 299–301, and his commentaries on the gospels (see below). 46  Vincent Taylor, The Gospel according to St. Mark: The Greek Text with Introduction, Notes, and Indices (London: Macmillan; New York: St. Martin’s, 1952, 21966), 143, 285–286, 295 (quotation from 143), followed inter alios by Francis Wright Beare, The Earliest Records of Jesus: A Companion to the Synopsis of the First Three Gospels by Albert Huck (New York: Abingdon, 1962), 123–124; Étienne Trocmé, L’Évangile selon saint Marc, CNT 2 (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 2000), 154: (according to Mark, the girl had died) “Mais le récit populaire [on which Mark builds his narrative] était sans doute beaucoup moins clair … le narrateur primitif devait avoir la conviction que l’enfant était dans le coma, morte seulement en apparence”; Selvidge, Woman, Cult, and Miracle Recital, 86, 89, 99.

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that the girl was not dead and saved her from a burial,47 and by Ernst Haenchen48 and Max Wilcox.49 From an entirely different theological position, the dispensationalist scholar Carl Armerding also insisted on taking the words “She is not dead, but sleepeth” (Luke 8:52) seriously (i.e. literally). Contrasting the terminology used with reference to the daughter of Jairus to that of Lazarus, he took Lazarus as a sample of the (future) resurrection from the dead (and as an illustration of the national resurrection of Israel), and Jairus’s daughter as a sample (sic) of those who are spiritually asleep.50 Recently, Thierry Murcia extensively argued on the basis of rabbinic sources that the girl’s death was possibly caused by fainting from fasting at Yom Kippur.51 3. D.F. Strauss and the Mythical Interpretation In the second volume of his (in)famous study on the life of Jesus, David Friedrich Strauss (1836) classified the story of the healing of the haemorrhaging woman under the category of the “involuntary cures” or “spontaneous healings” (unwillkührliche Heilungen) that had been attributed to Jesus in the gospel tradition (Matt 14:36; Mark 3:10; 6:56; Luke 6:19).52 Against the critical consensus of the time, Strauss defended the priority of Matthew’s version (“die frühere und einfachere, die der beiden andern als spätere und ausgeschmucktere Formation der Sage zu erkennen giebt,” 2:97), and argued that the other two versions were free elaborations of the First

47  Cuthbert Hamilton Turner, The Gospel according to St. Mark, repr. from A New Commentary on the Holy Scripture; ed. Charles Gore, Henry Leighton Goudge and Alfred Guillaume (London: SPCK, 1928), 30. 48  Ernst Haenchen, Der Weg Jesu: Eine Erklärung des Markus-Evangeliums und der kanonischen Parallelen, STö.H 6 (Berlin: Töpelmann, 1966, 21968), 209. 49  Max Wilcox, “Ταλιθα κουμ(ι) in Mk 5:41,” in Logia: Les paroles de Jésus – The Sayings of Jesus: Mémorial Joseph Coppens, ed. Joel Delobel, BETL 59 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, Peeters, 1982), 469 (following Haenchen), 476. Cf. also Bastiaan M.F. van Iersel, Mark: A Reader-Response Commentary, JSNTSup 164, trans. W.H. Bisscheroux (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 208–209. 50  Carl Armerding, “The Daughter of Jairus,” BSac 105 (1948): 56–58. 51  Thierry Murcia, “La question du fond historique des récits évangéliques. Deux guérisons un jour de Kippour: l’hémorroïsse et la résurrection de la fille de Jaïre et le possédé de Gérasa/ Gadara,” JudAnc 4 (2016): 123–164, esp. 132–147 (“une perte de conscience inopinée mais conjoncturelle: son malaise pourrait avoir été provoqué par un jeûne prolongé, possiblement celui du Kippour,” 138), with ample recourse to Jewish (rabbinic) sources. 52   Strauss, Leben Jesu KB, 2:93–103. See also the popularized account in idem, Das Leben Jesu für das deutsche Volk bearbeitet: Volksausgabe in unverkürzter Form, 2 vols. (Stuttgart: Strauss, Kröner, 1864, 16n.d.), 2:71–72 (= Leben Jesu DV). On the various editions of his Life of Jesus, see Horton Harris, David Friedrich Strauss and His Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1973), 41–57 (first edition), 117–122 (third edition), 200–212 (for the German people).

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Gospel, Mark’s account being the latest of the three.53 Typical of his larger project, Strauss not only firmly rejected the supernatural interpretation of the orthodox, who felt an unease with the spontaneous and unwilled discharge of energy from Jesus’s body, “wie eine geladene elektrische Batterie, die beim Betasten sich entladet” (2:97), but he also criticized the attempts of the rationalists to undo the story of its obvious miraculous features, thereby downgrading Jesus to a mere magician or mesmerizer.54 According to Paulus, for instance, the healing of the woman had been accomplished by her state of exaltation, “vermöge dessen sie bei der Berührung des Saumes Jesu in allen Nerven zusammenschauderte, wodurch vielleicht eine plötzliche Zusammenziehung der erweiterten Blutgefäße herbeigeführt wurde.”55 However, in the light of similar anecdotes in the New Testament and the early Christian tradition – Strauss thinks of the miracle-working handkerchiefs and aprons of Paul in Acts 19:11–12, Peter’s healing shadow in Acts 5:15 and comparable phenomena in the apocryphal gospels such as the Arabic Gospel of the Infancy – he argued that its miraculous claims should not be put in question. He saw no essential difference between the early Christian legendary tales and the story of the haemorrhaging woman.56 While Strauss did not entirely rule out a psychological explanation, he thought it equally possible (in fact, more likely) that stories such as these had come into existence long after the events, when later generations retrospectively ascribed such miracles to their holy men (2:102). He held that the story contained so many incredible, mythical elements that no historical basis could be detected and accordingly had to be classified as a myth (Sage), originating from the popular desire to materialize faith.57  In Strauss, Leben Jesu DV, 2:71, he speaks more clearly of “das Fortwachsen des Mythus, die Vergröberung des Wunderbegriffs.” Cf. in the twentieth century, from a more conservative standpoint but reasoning along the same lines, Adolf Schlatter, Der Evangelist Matthäus: Seine Sprache, sein Ziel, seine Selbständigkeit: Ein Kommentar zum ersten Evangelium (Stuttgart: Calwer, 1929, 61963), 316: “Warum Mat. die ausführlichere Darstellung bei Mark. gekürzt haben sollte, bliebe unerklärlich. Wohl verständlich ist dagegen, daß Mark. den Vorgang erläutert hat. Denn die Bitte um Auferweckung eines Toten springt weit über die unserem Glauben gesetzte Schranke hinaus.” 54  In Strauss, Leben Jesu DV, 2:72, he uses the term “thierischer Magnetismus.” 55  Heinrich Eberhard Gottlob Paulus, Exegetisches Handbuch über die drei ersten Evangelien, 3 vols. (Heidelberg: Winter, 1830), 1:524f., 530, cited by Strauss, Leben Jesu KB, 2:99–100 (who also refers to Karl Heinrich Venturini and Röster, Immanuel). 56   Strauss, Leben Jesu KB, 2:100: “[W]enn die Evangelisten einen selbstgemachten Schluß (daß eine Kraft von ihm ausgegangen) Jesu in den Mund gelegt, und eine nur successiv eingetretene Wiederherstellung als eine momentane beschrieben haben sollen [as some rationalists had argued, az]: so fällt mit dem Aufgeben dieser Züge die Bürgschaft für die historische Realität der ganzen Erzählung, aber ebendamit auch die Verlanlassung hinweg, sich mit der natürlichen Erklärung vergebliche Mühe zu machen.” 57   Strauss, Leben Jesu KB, 2:102–103: “Der sinnliche Glaube des Volks, unfähig, das Göttliche mit dem Gedanken zu ergreifen, strebt, es immer mehr in das materielle Sein herab­ 53

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Not surprisingly, Strauss was even more sceptical about the historicity of the raising of Jairus’s daughter, since a resurrection from the dead was even more unthinkable than a healing.58 “Dieser Klimax des Wunderbaren ist zugleich eine Stufenreihe des Undenkbaren” (2:153). Rejecting the rationalist (and Schleiermacher’s) interpretation of the girl’s condition as Scheintod (2:138–140), he observed that the story of Jairus’s daughter was the first in a climactic sequence of three resurrection stories with an increasing degree of complexity (2:154): while Jairus’s daughter was still laying on her bed when she was restored to life, the widow’s son at Nain (Luke 7:11–17) was already on his way to the grave carried off on a bier, whereas Lazarus (John 11:1– 44) had already been in the grave for four days before he was raised from the dead.59 The discrepancies between the various accounts – especially Matthew’s version takes a special place – raise serious suspicions regarding the authenticity of the stories (2:133–134). It is against their historicity that only the first one has been reported by three evangelists, while the other two, so Strauss argues, are instanced each by one (later) evangelist only. Starting from Matthew’s priority, he considered it most likely that the naming of the father, his position as a synagogue leader, the mentioning of the girl being his only daughter (μovoγεvής), the use of Aramaic and other such details as well as the request for healing instead of resurrection were elaborations typical of myth-building (2:135–137).60 Setting out a number of discrepancies and untenable beliefs underlying a historical interpretation of the three resurrection stories and concluding that these resurrections never took place in reality, he explained their origin in terms of primitive Christian mythbuilding. The myth (Sage) of Jesus raising people from the dead could (and had to) arise because of the rabbinic and early Christian belief that when the Messiah would come he would raise the dead (2:171). While the early Christians expected the general resurrection to take place at the Parousia at the end of time, Jesus’s earthly career was widely held to be its anticipation. zuziehen. Daher mußte nach der späteren Meinung der heilige Mann als Knochen­reliquie Wunder thun, Christi Leib in der verwandelten Hostie gegenwärtig sein, und ebendaher auch nach einer schon frühe ausgebildeten Vorstellung die Heilkraft der neutestamentlichen Männer an ihrem Leib und dessen Bedeckungen haften. Je weniger man Jesu Worte faßte, desto mehr hielt man auf das Fassen seines Mantels, und je mehr man sich von der freien Geisteskraft des Apostels Paulus entfernte, desto getroster ließ man seine Heilkraft im Schweißtuch nach Hause tragen.” 58   Strauss, Leben Jesu KB, 2:133–173; Leben Jesu DV, 2:75–87 (where he pays by far the most attention to the raising of Lazarus). 59   Strauss, Leben Jesu KB, 2:153. This is criticized by Van Oosterzee, Leven van Jezus, 2:413, whose work is strongly written against Strauss. 60   Strauss, Leben Jesu KB, 2:136: “Dort, wo Jesus gleich Anfangs um eine Todten­erweckung gebeten wird, leistet er nicht mehr, als von ihm verlangt war: hier dagegen, wo er, nur um eine Krankenheilung ersucht, eine Todtenerweckung vollbringt, thut er mehr als die Beteiligten bitten und verstehen.”

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Accordingly, given the Old Testament stories about the prophets Elijah and Elisha restoring people to life (1 Kgs 17:17–24; 2 Kgs 4:18–37), it must have been only a matter of time before these powers would also be attributed to Jesus, the Messiah (2:171–173). In the line of Strauss is the highly speculative reconstruction of the myth-building by Johannes Kreyenbühl.61 Stating that the primitive Ur-gospel obviously did not contain resuscitations by Jesus (265), he explained the growth of the legend of Jairus story as follows. As to the raisings of the dead, the more miraculously they are depicted, “desto deutlicher verraten sie den Urquell, dem sie entstammen, dem allgemeinen und unausrottbaren Glauben aller Völker an Zauberei” (266). The historical kernel of the story goes back to the preaching of Simon Peter in Joppe (Acts 9). Rather than a historical figure with the name Tabitha or Dorcas, she is a personification of the messianic community at Joppe, “devoted to good works and acts of charity” (Acts 9:36), concerned with the care for widows as exemplified in Acts 4 and 6 (267). From the very beginning Peter had preached the resurrection of Jesus and its implications, the general resurrection of all believers. “Diese Überzeugung des Petrus von der Auferweckung aller Gläubigen durch den aus dem Tode zur Messiaswürde erstandenen Jesus ist nun zunächst in der Quelle der Apostelgeschichte zur Auferweckung der Tabitha-Dorkas durch Simon Petrus geworden” (268). Peter’s resurrection preaching had simply transformed into a miracle story. When Mark came to know this story (not from Acts but from oral tradition), he found it difficult to accept that Peter had performed the most impressive miracle of all and that Jesus had also performed many miracles, except the greatest of all. Hence, Mark projected the story back into the life of Jesus and adapted it to his Gentile audience (272). That the Markan Jesus addresses the girl in Aramaic is a reminiscence of the preaching of Peter through whom Jesus addressed the primitive (Palestinian) community: “Der Verfasser des Markusstückes hatte die Wundergeschichte von Joppe vor sich liegen, und zwar in derselben griechischen Übersetzung, in der sie Lk vor sich gehabt hat…. Das aramäische Original der Wundergeschichte von Joppe hat Rabitha kum gelesen, das Hauptwort der Predigt des Simon” (274). Matthew’s version turns out to be the latest development of the story, adopted by him to illustrate the word of Jesus to the disciples of John the Baptist that “the dead are raised” (Matt 11:5).

E. Form-Critical Perspectives Strauss had sought his way out of the orthodox-rationalist controversy by focusing his attention on the literary features of the gospels and so in a way anticipated the twentieth-century form-critical research (Formgeschichte), the study of the typical patterns of similar stories in a particular genre (“form” understood here as a subcategory of genre).62 61  Johannes Kreyenbühl, “Ursprung und Stammbaum eines biblischen Wunders,” ZNW 10 (1909): 265–276. 62   See James L. Bailey and Lyle D. Vander Broek, Literary Forms in the New Testament: A Handbook (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1992); Vernon K. Robbins, “Form Criticism (NT),” ABD 2 (1992): 841–844; Klaus Berger, Formen und Gattungen im Neuen Testament, UTB 2532 (Tübingen: Francke, 2005).

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According to Martin Dibelius, one of the first practitioners of form criticism in the field of New Testament studies, Mark 5:21–43 belonged to the category of tales (Novellen), of which miracle stories were a subcategory.63 A tale is a more or less complete story in itself, with an elaboration of the situation, with less emphasis on the words of Jesus than in the case of paradigms, and culminating in the description of the result of the story and the response by the audience. This type of story functioned in particular among early Christian teachers, who wished to inform their (Christian) audience of who Jesus was. These stories were not formed for the purpose of illustrating sermons but as proof that the miracle-worker was a divine epiphany. In his influential and ground-breaking study on the formation of the synoptic tradition Rudolf Bultmann aligned with Dibelius’s judgement of the two stories as miracle stories.64 These stories, he argued, consisted of the record of the sickness, emphasized the fruitlessness of earlier treatment and the greatness of the miracle, and recorded some physical contact. They were meant to prove the messianic claims of Jesus and promote faith in Jesus as divine miracle-worker (Wunderglaube).65 The third representative of classic form criticism, next to Dibelius and Bultmann, is Vincent Taylor, to whom reference has already been made. He introduced the principles of form criticism to the English-speaking world.66 With Bultmann and Dibelius he classified the episodes of the daughter of Jairus and “the woman with the issue” as miracle stories,67 but he did not believe they were intended to be told as proofs of Jesus’s messianic power and divine might and thus to promote faith in Jesus, as Bultmann had argued, but he took them as illustrations of the power and beneficent activity of Jesus: “[T]he miracles are primarily works of compassion and of power” (133). While Dibelius and Bultmann had argued that the function of the pericope had to do with a christological claim and Taylor had suggested a more 63  Martin Dibelius, Die Formgeschichte des Evangeliums, mit einem Nachtrag von G. Iber (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1917, 51966), 66–100. 64  Rudolf Bultmann, Die Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, mit einem Nachwort von Gerd Theissen; FRLANT 29 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1921, 101995), 228–230. 65   Along similar lines: Julius Schniewind, Das Evangelium nach Markus übersetzt und erklärt, NTD 1 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 7.81958), 89: “Unsere Geschichten sind uns also überliefert von der gleichen Gesamtanschauung her wie alle Wundergeschichten: die messianische Zeit kommt, und nun wird alles gut, – das heißt Heil und Friede; und nun wird der Tod überwunden (Offb. 21,4!)”; Cf. Ernst Lohmeyer, Das Evangelium des Markus übersetzt und erklärt, KEK 1 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1937, 171967), 104: “Die Geschichte ist … von dem theologischen Sinn aus erzählt, den der gläubige Leser in ihr finden soll und in dieser Art ein erste Schritt auf dem Wege, der zum johanneischen Erzählungsstil führt” (my emphasis). 66  Vincent Taylor, The Formation of the Gospel Tradition: Eight Lectures (London: Macmillan, 1933, 21935). 67   Taylor, Formation, 24–25, deemed Dibelius’s category of Novelle too general and too much dependent on his own method to be useful for his investigation. Cf. also Taylor, Mark, 79–80.

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pastoral concern, Heinz Joachim Held pointed to the central significance of the word of Jesus in Mark 5:34: “Your faith has made you well.”68 He noticed that the first practitioners of form criticism had devoted their attention almost exclusively to the Gospel of Mark and had tacitly assumed that their conclusions applied with equal force to Matthew. This raised the methodical question about how to determine the literary form of the parallel sections. Would the criteria equally well apply to them? Held did not think so. Mark’s miracle story, he claimed, had been reworked by Matthew into a paradigm or example story (Beispielerzählung) in which the notion of conversation (“Gespräch”) takes a central place. The story finds its climax in the authoritative word of Jesus about faith; the miracle is just an illustration: “[D]ie in der Form des Gespräches von Matthäus dargebotene Heilungsgeschichte erreicht ihren formalen und sachlichen Höhepunkt in dem Wort Jesu vom Glauben und ist als Ganzes nichts anderes als eine Illustration dieses Ausspruches. Die Form des Heilungswunders im Matthäusevangelium entspricht daher am ehesten der des Paradigmas im Sinne von M. Dibelius.”69 These paradigms had an illustrative purpose in early Christian preaching.70 In her doctoral dissertation on the historical formation of the theme of revival of the dead, Stephanie Fischbach would later argue that the New Testament resuscitation stories employ elements of the ancient medical profession,71 for example the triad of anamnesis-diagnosis-progno68  Heinz Joachim Held, “Matthäus als Interpret der Wundergeschichten,” in Günther Bornkamm, Gerhard Barth and Heinz Joachim Held, Über­lieferung und Auslegung im Matthäus­evangelium, WMANT 1 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1960, 71975), 155–287. 69   Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 230. 70   On the form and function of miracle in general, see also Gerd Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, SNT 8 (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1974, 71998); Gerd Theissen and Annette Merz, Der historische Jesus: Ein Lehrbuch (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996, 32001), 256–284 (“Jesus als Heiler”), and Bernd Kollmann, Neutestamentliche Wundergeschichten: Biblisch-theologische Zugänge und Impulse für die Praxis, UB 477 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2002), 57–67. As a practitioner of the so-called New Form Criticism (Neue Form­geschichte), Klaus Berger, “Hellenistische Gattungen im Neuen Testament,” ANRW 25.2:1212–1231; idem, Formen und Gattungen, classified the three synoptic versions as “wunderhafte Erzählungen” as a subcategory of hellenistic deesis/petitio (Formen und Gattungen, 370: “Mit dieser Kategorie erfassen wir Texte, in denen erzählt wird, wie jemand sich mit seiner Bitte an einen Mächtigeren wendet, der diese Bitte dann gewährt oder verweigert.”). 71   So also, from a Catholic perspective, Peter Trummer, Die blutende Frau: Wunderheilung im Neuen Testament (Freiburg: Herder, 1991). Trummer discusses the healing activity of Jesus against the background of ancient medicine and in the light of the biblical anthropological view on body and gender. Arguing that in antiquity there is a causal connection between sin and suffering and describing ancient (Jewish) views on purity and ritual, he discusses the pericope of the haemorrhaging woman from an exegetical (79–109), historical (109–117) and theological perspective (118–135), and concludes with what he calls an allegorical perspective, drawing on pastoral theory in the line of the depth-psychological interpretation of Eugen Drewermann (135–153, see below).

F. The Question of Sources

23

sis, and represent a distinct literary genre, the revival of the dead genre (Totenerweckung).72 This genre, she suggested, is found in the Old Testament and early Judaism in 1 Kgs 17:17–24 (39–61), 2 Kgs 4:18–37 (62–84), 2 Kgs 13:20f. (85–88), 4 Ezra 9:38–10:4 (89–92), in rabbinic literature (93–97), and in Graeco-Roman texts (Iamblichus, Philostratus, Apuleius, the magical papyri etc.) (113–154). She discussed the New Testament examples of this genre: the daughter of Jairus (Mark 5:21–43 parr.) (156–219), the son of the widow at Nain (Luke 7:11–17) (220–236), Lazarus (John 11:1–44) (237–268), Tabitha (Acts 9:36–43) (269–288), and Eutychus (Acts 20:7–12) (289–301), and concluded her investigation with questions about the historicity of Jesus raising the dead (302–304).

F. The Question of Sources 1. Traditional Approaches While older scholarship in general believed that the canonical version of the Jairus pericope was not an invention of the evangelists but had been informed by eyewitnesses or at least had some basis in the pre-synoptic tradition – often recourse was taken to the use of Aramaic words in Mark 5:41 as a sure indication that Mark used source material that may have had its roots in the public ministry of Jesus73 – attempts to be more specific as to the nature, content and form of this traditional material were seldom undertaken. Dibelius, for example, had asserted without much argument that the connection of the story of Jairus and his daughter with the pericope of the haemorrhaging woman was already made before the author of Mark incorporated the material in his gospel, simply because of the strong interconnectedness of the two pericopes.74 Bultmann took On the background of the ancient medical world, see also Hans-Josef Klauck, “Von Ärzten und Wundertätern: Heil und Heilung in der Antike,” BK 61 (2006): 94–98. On the position of medical doctors in the Graeco-Roman world, see also Gregory H.R. Horsley, “Doctors in the GraecoRoman World,” NewDocs 2 (1982): 10–25 (no. 2). 72  Stephanie M. Fischbach, Totenerweckungen: Zur Geschichte einer Gattung, FB 69 (Würz­burg: Echter, 1992). 73   So more recently Meier, Marginal Jew, 2:785; P. Maurice Casey, Jesus of Nazareth: An Indepen­dent Historian’s Account of His Life and Teaching (London: T&T Clark International, 2010). 74   Dibelius, Formgeschichte, 69: “Diese Verbindung [of the Jairus pericope with the pericope of the haemorrhaging woman, az] scheint dem Evangelisten schon vorgelegen zu haben.” Against Arnold Meyer, “Die Entstehung des Markusevangeliums,” in Festgabe für Adolf Jülicher zum 70. Geburtstag, ed. Rudolf Bultmann et al. (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1927), 40, he argued: “Hier ist die Verbindung so eng, daß man sie nicht erst dem redigierenden Evangelisten zuschreiben kann” (Dibelius, Formgeschichte, 220). That the link (with Dibelius) is pre-Markan was also defended by Lohmeyer, Markus, 101; Walter Grundmann, Das Evangelium nach Markus, THKNT 2 (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1959, 61973), 113.

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over this argument and, noticing that the entire context was dominated by episodes around the sea, argued that “der ganze Komplex Mk 4,35–5,43 wohl schon vor der vor Mk liegende Stufe der Redaktion um den See gruppiert worden ist.”75 Vincent Taylor believed that the sometimes quite realistic description of details in miracle stories forbade the supposition that they were community buildings and that they might stand nearer to the records of eyewitnesses than was usually conceded (123–125). Later in his commentary on Mark he expressed the opinion that the story might derive from the recollections of Peter.76 To be sure, a number of authors have been satisfied with the assumption that the intertwining of the episodes is an accurate reflection of historical reality: it had simply happened that way.77 But the obvious literary artistry and the stylistic differences between the two episodes encouraged others to consider the influence of editorial work either by Mark or his sources regardless of its assumed historicity or not. The search for source material underlying Mark’s story received new impetus in the early seventies of the last century when a number of source-critical studies were devoted to Mark’s Gospel. Observing a parallelism in the Gospel of Mark beginning with two accounts of miracles associated with the sea (Mark 4:35–41 and 6:45–52), Paul Achtemeier argued for the existence of a pre-Markan cycle of miracles that circulated in the form of two connected series of episodes (catenae), that were identical in arrangement (sea miracle, three healing miracles, and a feeding miracle) but not in content:78 Catena I

Catena II

stilling of the Storm (4:35–41)

Jesus walks on the sea (6:45–51)

  Bultmann, Geschichte, 228–230 (quotation from 257).   Taylor, Mark, 95, 102; “a record based on personal testimony” (285). 77   Benjamin W. Bacon, The Beginnings of the Gospel Story: Historico-Critical Inquiry into the Sources and Structure of the Gospel according to Mark, with Expository Notes upon the Text, for English Readers (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1909, 21925), 60; Schmidt, Rahmen, 148; Hendrik van der Loos, “The Healing of the Woman with the Issue of Blood,” in idem, The Miracles of Jesus, NovTSup 9 (Leiden: Brill, 1965), 509; Meyer, Entstehung, 40; Taylor, Mark, 289; Charles E.B. Cranfield, The Gospel according to St. Mark, CGTC (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1959, 21963), 182; Jakob van Bruggen, Marcus: Het Evangelie volgens Petrus, CNT derde serie (Kampen: Kok, 1988), 125: “De verstrengeling van gebeurtenissen is historisch … één samenhangend geheel … omdat Jezus er één geheel van maakte” (his italics); Robert H. Gundry, Mark: A Commentary on His Apology for the Cross, 2 vols. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 1:268: “We have no right to deny the possibility that the one happened during the course of the other. It is the stuff of life that events are often intertwined.” 78  Paul J. Achtemeier, “Toward the Isolation of Pre-Markan Miracle Catenae,” JBL 89 (1970): 265–291; repr. in Jesus and the Miracle Tradition (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2008), 55–86; idem, “The Origin and Function of the Pre-Markan Miracle Catenae,” JBL 91 (1972): 198–221; repr. in Jesus and the Miracle Tradition, 87–116; idem, Mark, ProcCom (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975, 21986). 75

76

F. The Question of Sources the Gerasene Demoniac (5:1–20)

25

the blind man of Bethsaida (8:22–26)

the woman with the hemorrhage (5:25–34) the Syro-Phoenician woman (7:24b–30) Jairus’s Daughter (5:21–23, 35–42)

the deaf mute (7:32–37)

the feeding of the 5,000 (6:34–44, 53)

the feeding of the 4,000 (8:1–10).

In the same period, similar redaction- and tradition-critical investigations were conducted by Alfred Suhl (1968),79 Karl Kertelge (1970),80 and HeinzWolfgang Kuhn (1971),81 and by Pierre Benoit and Marie-Émile Boismard (1972).82 Kuhn, for one, argued for the existence of a pre-Markan collection in Mark 4:35–6:52 and held Mark responsible for combining the pericope of the daughter of Jairus and the haemorrhaging woman.83 Another, quite influential, reconstruction in the mid-1970s of the Markan pericope has been undertaken by Rudolf Pesch in his two-volume commentary on Mark.84 According to Pesch, the original (pre-Markan) version was a healing story of a twelve-year-old daughter of a synagogue leader by the name of Jairus (a symbolic name, “he will enlighten” or “he will awaken”), which had been transformed into a resurrection story under the influence of biblical (Elijah and Elisha) traditions and what he called the Überbietungsmotiv (“More than Elijah and Elisha is here”). This conclusion would later be strongly contested by John P. Meier, who claimed that the Jairus episode had been connected with the story of the haemorrhaging woman already in the pre-Markan tradition.85  Alfred Suhl, “Die Wunder Jesu: Ereignis und Überlieferung” (1968), repr. in Der Wunder­begriff im Neuen Testament, ed. Alfred Suhl, WdF 244 (Darmstadt: Wissen­schaftliche Buch­gesellschaft, 1980), 464–509. 80  Karl Kertelge, Die Wunder Jesu im Markusevangelium: Eine redaktionsgeschichtliche Untersuchung, SANT 23 (Munich: Kösel, 1970), 110–120. 81  Heinz-Wolfgang Kuhn, Ältere Sammlungen im Markusevangelium, SUNT 8 (Göttingen: Vanden­hoeck & Ruprecht, 1971), 191–213. Kuhn finished his dissertation when Kertelge’s book had not yet been published (242). Soon after Kuhn’s and Achtemeier’s publications (written independently from one another) a critical review of their work was published by JeanMarie van Cangh, “Les sources de l’Évangile: les collections pré-marciennes de miracles,” RTL 3 (1972): 76–85. He argued that the then present state of redaction criticism did not allow for the bold conclusions they had drawn and that more redaktionsgeschichtliches work was needed. 82  Pierre Benoit and Marie-Émil Let the Reader Understand: Studies in Honor of Elizabeth Struthers Malbon. Edited by Edwin K. Broadhead e Boismard, Synopse des quatre Évangiles en français, 3 vols. (Paris: Cerf, 1972), 2:208–211. 83   Kuhn,  Ältere Sammlungen, 200–201. So also Joachim Gnilka, Das Evangelium nach Markus: 1. Teilband Mk 1–8,26, 2 vols., EKKNT 2 (Zurich: Benziger; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1978, 62008), 209–211; Kollmann, Wundergeschichten, 90: “Die Totenerweckung Mk 5,22–24.35–43 wurde erst von Mk mit der Heilung der blutflüssigen Frau verschachtelt.” 84  Rudolf Pesch, Das Markus­evangelium 1. Teil: Einleitung und Kommentar zu Kap. 1,1– 8,26, HThKNT 2 (Freiburg: Herder, 1976, 41984), 312–314. See also idem, “Jaïrus (Mk 5,22/Lk 8,41),” BZ 14 (1970): 252–256. 85   Meier, Marginal Jew, 2:781–784. 79

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A substantial monograph on the New Testament accounts of raising people from the dead was written by the Canadian scholar Gérard Rochais.86 The book was published in 1981 although it was already accepted as a doctoral thesis in 1973 and therefore represents the state of scholarship of the early 1970s. The section on Jairus (there is no discussion of the pericope of the haemorrhaging woman) is part of a larger study on formation, historicity and theology of the four narratives in the New Testament in which a resuscitation of a dead person is told (that is, apart from the resurrection of Jesus), namely, the raising of the widow’s son at Nain (Luke 7:11–17), the raising of the daughter of Jairus (Mark 5:21–24a, 35–43 parr.), the raising of Lazarus (John 11:1–46) and the raising of Tabitha (Acts 9:36–43). He concludes (and starts from the premise!) that none of them is historical in the sense that a resuscitation of a dead person actually had taken place (“Il nous a semblé plus probable que ni Jésus ni Pierre n’avaient resuscité des morts”),87 which raises the question of their formation and provenance. First, Rochais made an inventory of the analogies between the various resuscitation stories, especially in comparison to the Old Testament traditions of Elijah reviving the widow’s son at Zarephath (1 Kgs 17:10, 17–24) and Elisha raising the son of the Shunammite (2 Kgs 4:18–37). He came to the conclusion that there was no common pattern or generic link between these texts, that some of the healing narratives had characteristics in common with the resurrection accounts and some with the miracle accounts, and that the Hellenistic resurrection accounts disclosed the pattern of “healing or resurrection-onthe-way” (“guérison ou résurrection en chemin”), a known genre that Luke employed in the Nain story (19–21). The Nain story originated in an Aramaic source strongly influenced by a Christology which regarded Jesus as Elijah redivivus and which came to Luke in the form of a Hellenistic miracle story (18–38). By far the most attention was given by Rochais to the raising of the daughter of Jairus. Like Pesch, he believed that the Jairus story was originally a healing story (with a sure historical kernel), which in the course of transmission had been transformed into a resuscitation story (39–112). The raising of Lazarus originated in a homily or a theological discourse in which Jesus was compared to the Servant of the Lord in Isa 49:9 (113–146). Tabitha’s story derived from oral tradition and was intended to show that Jesus’s ministry was carried on in the ministry of the disciples (147–165). The final three chapters of his book (166–210) are devoted to the biblicaltheological and hermeneutical questions surrounding the resurrection stories in the New Testament.

86  Gérard Rochais, Les récits de résurrection des morts dans le Nouveau Testament, SNTSMS 40 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981). 87   Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 2.

F. The Question of Sources

27

2. The Search for an Oral Background To date, the source-critical theories that dominated the 1970s have been complicated by the emergence of debates about orality and performance criticism. According to James Dunn (2003), modern attempts to solve the Synoptic Problem have been focused too much on the issue of literary relationship.88 There has emerged a picture of the evangelists writing in a closed room, with one or two gospel texts in front of them and with no awareness of the outside world. This, according to Dunn, is surely a caricature of how things must have been in reality. The authors were real people, living in the real world, and as followers of Jesus part of the Christian community. Now, according to Dunn, it is most unlikely that by the time that they were composing their gospels, there were no stories about Jesus at hand. From the beginning new converts would have wanted to know about the founder of Christianity, and the importance of remembering Jesus and his teachings reaches back into the earliest stages of the early church. Regardless of the role of literary tradition, the transmission of the Jesus tradition was also a matter of oral tradition. Building on the work of Werner Kelber and Kenneth Bailey, Dunn argues that oral transmission is characterized by a mix of stable themes and flexibility. Variations between the various gospel accounts are not necessarily the result of a linear or cumulative development (one gospel writer expanding and/or revising the work of the other), but are often typical expressions of the variation in oral performance. According to Dunn, this oral stream of tradition has influenced the wording of the gospels, even if there was a literary dependency as well. Evidently, this requires a new methodology and a different type of argument, although it is somewhat surprising to see that Dunn tackles the question of sources of the Jairus pericope by using the more or less traditional arguments. He argues as follows: The fact that one of those involved is remembered by name (“Jairus”) is hardly surprising, since he was leader of the village assembly (5.22); an episode involving such a prominent local figure would inevitably create a stir. In the interwoven episode, the seriousness of the woman’s condition in a society where blood and a woman’s bleeding was so defiling is simply assumed rather than stated; the story took its shape in a Palestinian context where an explanation was unnecessary. Not to be missed are the Aramaic words of Jesus preserved in 5.41 (“talitha koum”) and 7.34 (“ephphata”). It may well be the case that later tradents retained the words in Aramaic because they gave an appropriate sense of magic and mystery in a Greek-speaking context. But these are not non-sense words, such as we find in the magical papyri. On the contrary, they probably belonged to the tradition from the first, as the words which the first Aramaic-speaking tradents recalled Jesus as speaking.89 88  James D.G. Dunn, Jesus Remembered, vol. 1 of Christianity in the Making (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003); idem, The Oral Gospel Tradition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013). 89   Dunn, Jesus Remembered, 682–683.

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In Chapter 5 (Orality and Performance) we will come back on the orality debate in more detail and apply the general criteria suggested by Dunn and others to our pericope, to see if and how it works in practice.90

G. Literary and Narrative Approaches Literary and narrative approaches try to understand stories by studying the mechanics of the story-telling, as much as possible without recourse to the world outside the text and taking them as unified narratives.91 With regard to our pericopes, Charles W. Hedrick (1993)92 has analysed the Markan story as a literary composition without making appeal to supposed historical events lying behind the narrative to explain incongruities, gaps and ambiguities in the story: these must be explained within the narrative confines of Mark itself. Such ambiguities include the role of the eyewitnesses (what is their role if they are to keep the events secret?), the function of Jairus falling at Jesus’s feet (which looks very much like a Christian act of adoration), the call to (Christian?) faith and especially the ambivalence of the girl’s condition: is she dead or merely asleep? Hedrick concludes: It appears to me that the narrative is either deliberately ambiguous on the issue of the girl’s condition or the narrator is simply careless in the showing of the story. The evidence of the story is simply contradictory. Jesus asserts that the girl is not dead but merely asleep – even before he had seen her (5:39). Certain of the mourners, however, who had been with her when she “died,” clearly “know” she is not just asleep (5:35; 5:40a). The narrator allows the contradiction to stand with no resolution: at the conclusion the girl “got up” (ἀνέστη, 5:42). Hence the ambiguity does appear to be part of the strategy of the narrative, and leads one to the conclusion that the narrator is deliberately contrasting the popular notion in the story that the girl is dead with Jesus’s assertion that the girl is sleeping. Therefore the idea that Mark’s story describes Jesus raising a young girl from the dead would appear to derive from the influential readings of Matthew and Luke, Mark’s literary context for the story, as well as from modern popular Christian imagination and harmonization with the readings of Matthew and Luke. Mark’s narrator simply does not make the story clear.93

Hedrick closes his article with some reflections about a modern reader’s response to the Markan episode and suggests that the ambiguity of Mark’s version may well stand closer to a modern perspective than Matthew and Luke, 90   Cf. Arie W. Zwiep, “Traditie, oraliteit en schriftelijkheid in de perikoop Haemorrhoisa et filia Jairi (Mar. 5:21–43 parr.): Een tussentijdse bestandopname,” KeTh 69 (2018): 239–254. 91  David Rhoads, Joanna Dewey and Donald Michie, Mark as Story: An Introduction to the Narrative of a Gospel (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1982, 32012); James L. Resseguie, Narrative Criticism of the New Testament: An Introduction (Grand Rapids: Baker, 2005). 92   Charles W. Hedrick, “Miracle Stories as Literary Compositions: The Case of Jairus’s Daughter,” PRSt 20 (1993): 217–233. 93   Hedrick, “Miracle Stories,” 230.

G. Literary and Narrative Approaches

29

and that Mark’s story may also challenge our own closed worldview. Thus he writes: This story holds open the possibility that even in an apparently closed world, things may be other than they seem. Hence the story contrasts two ways of viewing the world: a closed system in which death is inevitable and always the victor – represented by those mourners who laughed at Jesus. And a system slightly open in which the inevitabilities of the closed system have become mere possibilities – represented by Jesus and Jairus’ daughter. Hence the story, by affirming the mystery of death and holding open the possibility of life, calls all people to the courage of an irrational faith, a faith that holds out for the possibility of new beginnings in spite of the “obvious” inevitability of conclusions that militate against hope.94

Other narrative analyses of the Markan episodes can be found in two articles by Normand Bonneau (2005)95 and one by Marie-Christine Chou (2011).96 In her 1993 Munich doctoral dissertation Dagmar Oppel set out to determine to what extent a synchronic approach may supplement the diachronic approach so typical of historical criticism.97 Building upon the results of predominantly German historical-critical scholarship, she applied the insights of structuralist semantics of A.J. Greimas (47–120) and North-American narrative criticism (121–184) to the Markan pericope of Jairus’s daughter and the haemorrhaging woman and reviewed its reception in Patristic homilies from the fourth to the sixth century (185–255). From the application of the “actantial model” of Greimas, which is in fact a refinement of the work of the Russian formalist Vladimir Propp,98 Oppel concluded that Mark 5:21–43 is a unified narrative that matches the category of quest (“Suche”), a basic structural component of narrative in Greimas’s model: [D]iese beiden Wundererzählungen können zunächst mit Hilfe des Greimasschen Modells als Bewegung vom Suchen zum Finden dargestellt werden. Bei diesem Vorgehen bestätigte sich positiv … daß Sprache und Welt eines bekannten Textes neu entdeckt werden, daß das Verhältnis von Erzähl- und Redepartien deutlich in den Blick komme,   Hedrick, “Miracle Stories,” 233. Cf. on the issue of worldview further idem, “Miracles in Mark: A Study in Markan Theology and Its Implications for Modern Religious Thought,” PRSt 34 (2007): 297–313. 95  Normand Bonneau, “Jesus and Human Contingency in Mark: A Narrative-Critical Reading of Three Healing Stories,” Thf 32 (2001): 321–340; idem, “Suspense in Mark 5:21– 43: A Narrative Study of Two Healing Stories,” Thf 36 (2005): 131–154. 96  Marie-Christine Chou, “Parole et silence, chemins de foi: Une lecture de Mc 5,21–43 selon la méthode narrative,” BLE 4 (2011): 363–389. 97  Dagmar Oppel, Heilsam erzählen. 98  See Vladimir J. Propp, Morphology of the Folktale, trans. Laurence Scott (Austin: University of Texas Press, [1928] 21968); idem, “Structure and History in the Study of the Fairy Tale,” Semeia 10 (1978): 57–83 (trans. from Italian). For a helpful introduction to the work of Greimas, see Daniel Patte, The Religious Dimensions of Biblical Texts: Greimas’ Structural Semiotics and Biblical Exegesis, SBLSS (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1990), and Zwiep, Tussen tekst en lezer, 2:238–243. 94

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und daß das angebotene Modell eine Identifikation des Lesers mit einer oder mehreren der zugehörigen Rollen anbiete.99

The so-called contract model helps to differentiate the various roles within the narrative program and to highlight the basic semantic category of conflict:100 Im Fall der Frau zielt die semantische Struktur im Rückblick darauf ab, das hinter der erfolgreichen pragmatischen Durchführung ihres Programmes stehende Defizit auf der kognitiven Ebene des Wollens umzuwandeln in eine geglückte Kommunikation mit Jesus, der ihrem Glauben die vollständige Integration auf beiden Ebenen zusagen kann. Nach dem ursprünglichen Konflikt der sozialen Desintegration einerseits und des monologischen Handeln andererseits wird zunächst als weiterer Konflikt die Überwindung des Monologs notwendig, die Jesus provoziert. Im Eingehen auf diese Herausforderung durch die Frau ereignet sich semantisch ihre Integration in das narrative Programm Jesu, das als Realisation der Werte der Gottesherrschaft verstanden werden muß, und dessen Realisierung ihm von seinem eigentlichen Destinator /Gott/ her zukommt. /Rettung/ ist hier semantisch zugleich mit der leiblichen Besiegelung des Geschehens auch als kommunikatives Tun zum Leben hin gefaßt.101

Through her healing the woman entered a new world of possibilities, which she could only do by giving up all her known possibilities. The same goes for the leader of the synagogue: Er [= der Synagogenvorsteher] signalisiert zu Beginn in der Proskynese ein grundsätzliches Einverständnis mit der Überlegenheit Jesu. Seine Bitte um Rettung und Lebenserhaltung seiner Tochter wird dennoch auch für ihn zur Bewährungsprobe im Konflikt: Nachdem er die Todesnachricht erhalten hat, muß er sämtliche vorgefaßten Erwartungen fallen lassen. Er ist dem Glauben als der einzigen Möglichkeit, der aber der Raum der Möglichkeiten Jesu slechthin ist, anheimgestellt. Er hat nicht mehr in der Hand, so wenig wie die kranke Frau, was Rettung tatsächlich heißen wird. Verschärft wird diese Zwangslage dann noch durch das Schreckenerregende des Wortes Jesu bei der Erweckung. Sein Schweigebefehl verstärkt noch den Eindruck des Paradoxen in der Überschreitung aller bisher gesetzten Grenzen von Leben und Tod.102

Faith means “sich auf das Ungewisse des Programmes Jesu einzulassen, Nichtglaube ist Verweigerung.”103 From a narrative perspective the Markan intercalation technique brings to light a christological focus: “Jedesmal [including the present pericope, az] ist eine entschiedene Stellungnahme zu Jesus gefordert” (260). The middle section focuses on a statement of Jesus   Oppel, Heilsam erzählen, 257.   From a different (socio-historical) perspective the notion of conflict is also discussed by Evert-Jan Vledder, Conflict in the Miracle Stories: A Socio-Exegetical Study of Matthew 8 and 9, JSNTSup 152 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1997). He focuses on the conflict about group boundaries between the Matthaean community after 70 CE and contemporary Jewish leaders. Matt 9:18–26 is discussed on 215–218. 101   Oppel, Heilsam erzählen, 257–258. 102   Oppel, Heilsam erzählen, 258 (her italics). 103   Oppel, Heilsam erzählen, 258–259. 99

100

G. Literary and Narrative Approaches

31

that provokes a strong reaction and disorientation.104 The notion of conflict, already unearthed by structuralist analysis, is brought home to the reader by means of narrative analysis. The conflict is unresolved and forces the implied reader to take a position. Hence narrative criticism supplements structural analysis (260). In patristic literature from the fourth to the sixth century, the study of Mark 5:21–43 is heavily indebted to typological interpretation, in which the narrative material of the gospels serves to illustrate the theology of Paul and John with an appeal to the analogy of faith.105 A sparkling example of this is Augustine’s remark in a sermon on Rom 9–11, where the conversion of the Jews and the Gentiles is said to be prefigured in the story of Jairus’s daughter and the haemorrhaging woman (“Habes hoc et in evangelio sacratissime figuratum”).106 While Hedrick’s article remained within the boundaries of classical literary criticism and Oppel’s book focused on its structuralist potential, Roy D. Kotansky (2001) offered a thoroughgoing re-reading of the episode in the light of ancient mythology, looking for a deeper, symbolic meaning of the story.107 Heavily relying on a source-critical reconstruction of the pre-Markan miracle catena, Kotansky argued that the episode is part of an original straightforward miracle story overlaid (by Mark or his source) by mythological motifs reminding of the cosmic battle with Ocean, descents into the netherworld, and a cosmological marriage (hieros gamos), “to win over Mark’s universal Gentile audience” (78). Jesus’s journeying to the other side (τὸ Πέραν, the Beyond) stands for the transition from the real world to the mysterious beyond, where cosmic conflicts are fought. In the story, Jesus figures as a divine hero conquering death; the haemorrhaging woman as a mythic, archetypal figure whose intervention paves the way for the raising of Jairus’s daughter. The intricate connection between the woman and the daughter reveals that their fates are inextricably connected: As a fabled “Sleeping Beauty,” the spell of death over the Little Girl (κοράσιον, vv. 41, 42) has been broken with the disappearance from the narrative of the Hemorrhaging Woman (γυνὴ οὖσα ἐν ῥύσει αἵματος, v. 25). It seems that by some strange law of proxy the healing of the hemorrhaging woman has kept the little girl’s chances alive; the woman’s position somehow serves as a surrogate restitution that enables the daughter, in the end, to be won back to life.108 104   Oppel, Heilsam erzählen, 260: “Die jeweils umrahmte Perikope konzentriert sich auf ein provozierendes Wort Jesu, das Widerspruch und Desorientierung hervorruft.” 105   Oppel discusses Hilary of Poitiers, Ephrem the Syrian, Ambrose, Augustine, Petrus Chrysologus, Cyril of Alexandria, John Chrysostom, James of Sarug, St. Romanos the Melodist. 106   Augustine, Serm. 77.5 (Latin text in Oppel, Heilsam erzählen, 246–248). 107   Roy D. Kotansky, “Jesus and the Lady of the Abyss (Mark 5:25–34): Hieros Gamos, Cosmogony, and the Elixir of Life,” in Antiquity and Humanity: FS Hans Dieter Betz, ed. Adela Yarbro Collins and Margaret M. Mitchell (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001), 77–120. 108   Kotansky, “Jesus and the Lady of the Abyss,” 81.

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Jesus as the divine hero and the haemorrhaging woman as a Lady of the Abyss are united in a sacred marriage (hieros gamos) that produces life, suggestive of the restoration of universal salvation in eschatological time. The whole scenery (the sea-setting) is reminiscent of the ancient cosmic battles (theomachies) of Enlil and Ninlil, Inanna and Dumuzi, Tiamat and Apsu, Baal and Yam, Moses and the Red Sea, and from Greek mythology and magic. The woman’s intervention reveals a crux: [T]he woman’s role is to initiate Jesus’ hidden dynamis in the male/female conjunction that results from the meeting of the two figures…. As a primordial restorative Eve, the woman is meant to inaugurate a new paradisiacal epoch as she encounters Jesus in the liminal, abyssal region of the Sea. Her meeting with Jesus ensures that a re-enactment of creation will indeed transpire. Her contribution, as the female counterpart of Jesus, is that of a divine Sophia participating, through her own healing and that of the girl, in the very act of procreation itself. She, with her oceanic womb of life-giving blood, will, in conjunction with Jesus, become a female creatrix to his male creator.109

According to Kotansky, the woman serves as an archetypal figure who represents the taming of the primordial Sea (which stands for the “uncontrolled” female forces of creation) and a sacred wedding, representative of procreation in the eschatological life of the pre-Markan community. At the same time, she also acts as a mythological “anti-type” to the girl. Her “touch” creates a cessation, a kind of death, the typological inverse of the Little Girl.110

H. Contextual Approaches Most of the work reviewed thus far aimed at textual interpretation, that is, it focused on understanding the ancient text as its primary (and sometimes sole) aim. In this section we will discuss some examples of what nowadays are called “contextual approaches.”111 They include a wide variety of approaches (liberation theology, black theology, feminist hermeneutics and gender studies, postcolonial hermeneutics, and so on) that have one thing in common, namely the priority of the present social and political context: “they are all one in their affirmation of the context ‘here and now’ as the only proper point of departure and scope of hermeneutics.”112 In the following pages we will review a selection of work on our pericope and discuss feminist criticism, psychoanalytical criticism, and some other recent deve­ lopments.   Kotansky, “Jesus and the Lady of the Abyss,” 110 (his italics).   Kotansky, “Jesus and the Lady of the Abyss,” 118. 111   Zwiep, Tussen tekst en lezer, 2:369–411; idem, “Bible Hermeneutics from 1950 to the Present: Trends and Developments,” in Handbuch der Bibelhermeneutiken: Von Origenes bis zur Gegenwart, ed. Oda Wischmeyer, De Gruyter Reference (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2016), 992–1002. 112   Zwiep, “Bible Hermeneutics,” 993 (italics original). 109 110

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1. Feminist Criticism In 2001, Joanna Dewey signalled “an explosion of work on the hemorrhaging woman” from a feminist-critical perspective,113 and the same can be observed with regard to the episode of Jairus’s daughter.114 For obvious reasons the stories about the daughter of Jairus and the haemorrhaging woman have attracted the attention of feminist scholars from an early period. After all, three female characters make their presence known, albeit with varying degrees of success and visibility (or non-visibility): the twelve-year old girl, the haemorrhaging woman and the child’s mother. Like other liberationist hermeneutics, feminist biblical interpretation takes its starting point in the experience of oppression and seeks to liberate women who are oppressed because of their sex and gender roles, by revealing sexist and misogynist (expressing hatred against females) attitudes and behaviours and criticizing male normativity.115 It seeks to expose the biases of the narrator’s point of view and offer a “resistant reading.” The focus of feminist interpreters is not on authorial intention or on textual meaning as such, but on the liberating experience of personal conversion and societal transformation.116 Typical questions to be asked (and answered!) from a feminist-critical perspective in the pericopes include the following: How do male-female relationships in the story contribute to (or distort) its meaning? Why are all the women featuring in the story unnamed, in contrast to their male counterparts, Jesus, Jairus, Peter, James and John, James’s brother? What does it say about their identity? What, if any, is the role of purity regulations in the story? To what extent is the moral shaped by matters of purity and impurity, and by matters of

113  Joanna Dewey, “‘Let Them Renounce Themselves and Take Up Their Cross’: A Feminist Reading of Mark 8.34 in Mark’s Social and Narrative World,” in A Feminist Companion to Mark, ed. Amy-Jill Levine and Marianne Blickenstaff, FCNTECW 2 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2001), 27 n.14. 114   See Bibliography A below. 115  George Aichele et al., “Feminist and Womanist Criticism,” in The Postmodern Bible, The Bible and Culture Collective (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995), 225–271. 116  See Zwiep, Tussen tekst en lezer, 2:397–403, and the literature cited there. For a general appreciation of the role of women in the Gospel of Mark, see Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, “Fallible Followers: Women and Men in the Gospel of Mark,” Semeia 28 (1983): 29–48. She tries to determine how the women characters in Mark shed light on what it means to follow Jesus and why they are especially appropriate for the role of illuminating followership (rather than discipleship in the strict sense). She concludes that the women characters contribute to the composite portrayal of following Jesus, both positively and negatively (“Women can be villains as well as heroes in the Gospel of Mark,” 46). The author of Mark communicates a twofold message to his audience: “[A]nyone can be a follower, no one finds it easy” (47). See, for similar conclusions, also Joanna Dewey, “The Gospel of Mark,” in Searching the Scriptures: A Feminist Commentary, ed. Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza (New York: Crossroad, 1994), 2:470– 509; idem, “Women in the Gospel of Mark,” WW 26 (2006): 22–29.

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honour and shame?117 Does the appellation “daughter” in Mark re-encapsulate the woman in patriarchal structures and thus affirm male normativity? To what extent does the story promote a liberating view on women? To what extent does it maintain the status quo and/or support male domination? According to Marla Selvidge, the story of the haemorrhaging woman has been preserved “because it remembers an early Christian community’s break with the Jewish purity system, which restricted and excluded women from cult and society.”118 The terms Mark uses to describe the woman’s condition have been drawn directly from the purity laws in Lev 15, to which the episode stands in stark contrast. In her 1990 monograph Woman, Cult, and Miracle Recital Selvidge developed this theme and defended the thesis that the Markan Jesus stands opposed to the Jewish law that marginalized women and advocates a liberal, egalitarian view that eschews social exclusion on the basis of gender.119 Following Robin Scroggs’s sociological analysis of the earliest Christian community as a sectarian movement,120 she described it as a dissenting group, a protest movement that rejected the establishment view of reality, an egalitarian group that offered love and acceptance within the community. It was a voluntary association demanding a total commitment of its members and advocated an adventist (imminent-eschatological) interpretation of its situation (31–46). Mark’s Gospel demonstrates a hostile attitude toward the Twelve as representatives of the Jerusalem (motherchurch) establishment and has a cosmopolitan outlook instead:   On the question whether the haemorrhaging woman imparted any impurity to Jesus by her touch, and whether Jesus himself contracted impurity when he entered the house of a dead girl and took her by the hand, see the various instructive articles by Cecilia Wassen, “Jesus and the Hemorrhaging Woman in Mark 5:24–34: Insights from Purity Laws from Qumran,” in Scripture in Transition: Essays on Septuagint, Hebrew Bible, and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honour of Raija Sollamo, ed. Anssi Voitila and Jutta Jokiranta, JSJSup 126 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 641– 660; idem, “The Jewishness of Jesus and Ritual Purity,” SIDA 27 (2016): 11–36; idem, “Jesus’ Work as a Healer in Light of Jewish Purity Laws,” in Bridging between Sister Religions: Studies of Jewish and Christian Scriptures Offered in Honor of Prof. John T. Townsend, ed. Isaac Kalimi (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 87–104. Overall Wassen concludes that “[b]ased on the laws in Leviticus, the zavah in Mark’s story would not have transmitted impurity if she had washed her hands,” (“Jesus and the Hemorrhaging Woman,” 658), that Mark ignored the subject for that reason (659; “Jesus’ Work,” 91), that Jesus did not challenge the purity system (“Jewishness,” passim) (contra Marla J. Selvidge), and that his touch is not an example of how he challenged Jewish laws but rather an expression of the natural behaviour of any healer (“Jewishness,” 27; “Jesus’ Work,” 101: “Healers were expected to touch people”). 118   Marla J. Selvidge, “Mark 5:25–34 and Leviticus 14:19–20: A Reaction to Restrictive Purity Regulations,” JBL 103 (1984): 619–623. Quotation from 619. 119   Selvidge, Woman, Cult, and Miracle Recital. 120  Robin Scroggs, “The Earliest Christian Communities as Sectarian Movement,” in Christianity, Judaism, and Other Greco-Roman Cults: Studies for Morton Smith at Sixty, ed. Jacob Neusner (Leiden: Brill, 1975), 2:1–23; repr. in Social-Scientific Approaches to New Testament Interpretation, ed. David G. Horrell (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1999), 69–91. 117

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The communal situation of Mark was certainly varied. It denied the exclusivism of Judaism, and as it found itself in conflict it began a transition to a more Gentile-oriented community. This is the period that is evidenced in the Gospel of Mark. It is a time of transition and reconstruction. It is a time of fear and persecution, but it is also a time when the community is demonstrating that it is socially aware, open-ended, and certainly tending toward antiritualism, as viewed by Mark’s negative attitudes toward purity laws restricting food consumption and associations with non-Jews. They are in the midst of building a counterculture.121

Accordingly, the pericope of the haemorrhaging woman in Mark 5:24–34 is “a tradition centered in dissension…. The miracle story of the hemorrhaging woman stands preserved because it stood as a definitive answer to the purity laws that historically had attempted to control women in their cultic and social expression within the community” (47). The point of the story is not to legitimize the person of Jesus, as traditional form critics maintained, but it is a message to the worshipping community: “Mark 5:24–34 … served the needs of its communities by presenting a miracle story that freed woman from a restrictive cultic and social roles within society, and freed her to a new, demanding, creative, and healing role, within the worshiping communities” (83). Whereas in the interpretation of Selvidge matters of purity and impurity dominated the episode, this was disputed by Charlotte Fonrobert, Mary Rose D’Angelo and Cecilia Wassen; they strongly denied that these issues played a role in the story of Mark.122 Both Fonrobert and Brigitte Kahl pointed to potential anti-Jewish rhetoric that could guide the reading of the story in terms of restrictive purity regulations, or, as Kahl put it, “within the framework of an Ekklesia-versus-Synagogue-dichotomy.”123 According to Fonrobert, the haemorrhaging woman did not commit a transgression of biblical or Mishnaic law when she touched the garment of Jesus.124 Wassen argued that in Jewish daily life, it would be impossible not to contract impurity: “Clearly impurity was a common part of life.”125 In a similar vein,   Selvidge, Woman, Cult, and Miracle Recital, 45–46.  Charlotte Fonrobert, “The Woman with a Blood-Flow (Mark 5.24–34) Revisited: Menstrual Laws and Jewish Culture in Christian Feminist Hermeneutics,” in Early Christian Interpretation of the Scriptures of Israel: Investigations and Proposals, ed. Craig A. Evans and Jack A. Sanders, JSNTSup 148; SSEJC 5 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1997), 121–140; Mary Rose D’Angelo, “Gender and Power in the Gospel of Mark: The Daughter of Jairus and the Woman with the Flow of Blood,” in Miracles in Jewish and Christian Antiquity: Imagining Truth, ed. John C. Cavadini, NDST 3 (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1999), 83– 109; Wassen, “Jesus and the Haemorrhaging Woman”; idem, “Jewishness”; idem, “Jesus’ Work.” 123  Brigitte Kahl, “Jairus und die verlorenen Töchter Israels: Sozioliterarische Über­ legungen zum Problem der Grenzüberschreitung in Mk 5,21–43,” in Von der Wurzel getragen: Christlich-feministische Exegese in Auseinandersetzung mit Antijudaismus, ed. Luise Schottroff and Marie-Theres Wacker, BibInt 17 (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 61–78. 124   Fonrobert, “Woman,” 134. 125   Wassen, “Jesus’ Work,” 93. 121

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Marie-Eloise Rosenblatt questioned the naturalness with which it was sometimes taken for granted that Mark’s haemorrhaging woman was Jewish.126 She argued that if the woman were understood as Gentile, it would make much more sense to the mixed Markan community: The ethnic ambiguity in the case of the haemorrhaging woman both represents and resolves tensions between gentile and Jewish Christians…. Her alliance with a young Jewish girl, Jairus’ daughter, represented a sisterhood among women, no matter what their identity. Their stories were intertwined because they represented the hope of a united community.127

Wendy Cotter claimed that the woman was not ashamed because she had violated Torah (there is no indication that she did), but that her shyness had to be understood in the context of the honour-shame culture of Graeco-Roman antiquity, in which it was inappropriate for a woman to show indiscretion and in which a woman’s modesty was seen as a virtue.128 In her view, the Jewish traditions of Elijah and Elisha were of secondary importance, if at all. Rather, parallels from the Graeco-Roman antiquity of gods and (to a lesser extent) heroes raising the dead were far more significant analogies (60–72): Jesus has power over life which for the ordinary person of Greco-Roman antiquity would invite a comparison of Jesus’ power with that of Heracles or Asclepius. Of these two deities, it would be Asclepius, the Helper and Healer of all humankind everywhere, who would surely be the most appropriate parallel.129

The restrictive influence of Jewish purity regulations on Matthew’s version has also been disputed by Amy-Jill Levine.130 To diagnose the bleeding of the woman as having something to do with “female troubles” that ostracized her from Jewish society is not supported by the text itself. It is read into it, so 126  See Marie-Eloise Rosenblatt, “Gender, Ethnicity, and Legal Considerations in the Haemorrhaging Woman’s Story Mark 5:25–34,” in Transformative Encounters: Jesus and Women Re-Viewed, ed. Ingrid Rosa Kitzberger, BibInt 43 (Leiden: Brill, 2000), 137–161. 127   Rosenblatt, “Gender, Ethicity, and Legal Considerations,” 161. As such this theory is not a novelty. It was already anticipated by Ferdinand Hahn, Christologische Hoheitstitel: Ihre Geschichte im frühen Christentum, UTB 1873 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1963, 5 1995), 312–313, who surmised that Mark 5:25–34 originated in Hellenistic Christianity in which Jesus was seen as a θεῖος ἀνήρ. 128  Wendy Cotter, “Mark’s Hero of the Twelfth-Year Miracles: The Healing of the Woman with the Hemorrhage and the Raising of Jairus’ Daughter (Mk 5:21–43),” in Levine and Blickenstaff, A Feminist Companion to Mark, 54–78, esp. 57–60. 129   Cotter, “Mark’s Hero,” 74. “This miracle story is of extreme importance because it elevates him [Jesus] to the stratum of a god like Asclepius” (76, punctuation corrected). 130  Amy-Jill Levine, “Discharging Responsibility: Matthean Jesus, Biblical Law, and Hemorrhaging Woman,” in Treasures New and Old: Recent Contributions to Matthean Studies, ed. David R. Bauer and Mark Alan Powell (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1996), 379–397; repr. in A Feminist Companion to Matthew, ed. Amy-Jill Levine and Marianne Blickenstaff, FCNTECW 1 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2001), 70–87. Quotations are from the latter.

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she argues, by students of Christian origins who are obsessed with Levitical purity regulations: “[I]t may well be that scholars worry more about such matters, particularly as they concern women, than did many Jewish women in the first century” (72). The woman’s disease may well have been caused by a sore on her leg or breast or nose, and if so, she would have been ill but not impure (75). Nor is the Matthaean Jesus portrayed in this gospel as someone who overcomes Jewish Law.131 Levine concluded that Matthew does not abrogate the laws of physical purity any more than the dietary regulations. The woman is healed of her sickness; the girl is raised from the dead. The point is that those who were sick and dead are now alive and healthy, not that Jewish practices have been transgressed or overcome (77).

The point of the entire episode is about discipleship, especially about Jesus as a model of discipleship and of good serving leadership (note that Jesus “follows” the leader, Matt 9:19!), a theme which runs through the Gospel of Matthew (84–87). The late Susan Haber took a middle position.132 She did not think that the point of the story of the haemorrhaging woman lies in a critique or abrogation of Jewish purity laws, but she did not deny that impurity at least implicitly was an issue. It is a story about the woman’s health rather than about her illness: “Her illness is explicit; her impurity implicit” (173). The point of the episode is a christological one, namely, the supernatural power of Jesus that succeeds when even physicians fail. This concurs with Mark’s rhetorical agenda, according to which faith in Jesus brings healing (186–189). In the end it is a story specifically addressed to women: “[T]he hemorrhaging woman’s ailment is specific to women and has implications with respect to her ability to bear children” (191), and one that affirms Jesus’s ministry to women.133 131   See for the Matthean perspective also Francois P. Viljoen, “The Law and Purity in Matthew: Jesus Touching a Bleeding Woman and a Dead Girl (Mt 9:18–26),” NGTT 55 (2014): 443–469. 132  Susan Haber, “A Woman’s Touch: Feminist Encounters with the Hemorrhaging Woman in Mark 5:24–34,” JSNT 26 (2003): 171–192; repr. in idem, “They Shall Purify Themselves.” Essays on Purity in Early Judaism, ed. Adele Reinhartz, SBLEJL 24 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2008), 125–142. 133   Further socio-critical (feminist or intercultural) interpretations of the episode can be found in Mitzi Minor, “Old Stories Through New Eyes: Insights Gained From a Feminist Reading of Mark 5:25–34,” MTSJ 30 (1992): 2–14; Joanna Dewey, “Jesus’ Healing of Women: Conformity and Non-Conformity to Dominant Cultural Values as Clues for Historical Reconstruction,” BTB 24 (1994): 122–131; Hisako Kinukawa, “The Story of the Hemorrhaging Woman (Mark 5:25–34): Read from a Japanese Feminist Context,” BibInt 2 (1994): 283–293; Malika Sibeko and Beverley Haddad, “Reading the Bible ‘with’ Women in Poor and Marginalized Communities in South Africa (Mark 5.21–6.1),” Semeia 78 (1997): 83–92; Elaine M. Wainwright, “‘Your Faith Has Made You Well’: Jesus, Women, and Healing in the Gospel of Matthew,” in Kitzberger, Transformative Encounters, 224–244; idem, “The Matthean Jesus and the Healing of Women,” in The Gospel of Matthew in Current Study, ed. David E. Aune (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans,

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2. Psychoanalytical Criticism Psychoanalytical criticism is particularly indebted to the work of Sigmund Freud (1886–1939), Carl Gustav Jung (1875–1961) and, in more recent times, to the work of Jacques Lacan (1901–1981) and Julia Kristeva (b. 1941). In biblical studies it is especially concerned with the analysis of the unconscious substructures of texts, authors and readers.134 According to Eugen Drewermann, a famous and outspoken representative of psychoanalytical interpretation, such questions as whether the two intertwined pericopes originally belonged together or not – with which so much of historical-critical scholarship is concerned – and to what extent the typical elements in the story fit the rules of form criticism, are to miss the point of the episode.135 Such critical questions have only led to scepticism as to its historicity and to a reduction of the text to its theological proclamation about the messianic salvation brought by Jesus and accessible by faith (278– 279). Drewermann, alternately, argues that the meaning of the pericope can only be established when these historical-critical concerns are abandoned in favour of a psychoanalytical reading focused on the present-day reader’s personal drives and needs. The parallels between the two episodes indicate that the two stories must be read one in the light of the other and vice versa. The twofold mention of the twelve years is significant in that it reveals the crux of the story: in the case of the haemorrhaging woman the twelve years mark the period that it was impossible for her to live as a woman, in the case of Jairus’s daughter the twelve years signal the point that she risked to lose her life altogether precisely at the time she would become a woman. Eine solche konsequent durchgeführte Parallelisierung aller Einzelmomente macht nur Sinn, wenn man sie als Aufforderung und Interpretationsanweisung versteht, das Leben der blutflüssigen Frau und das Leben der Tochter des Jairus als innerlich zusammengehörig zu betrachten, d.h.: man muß, psychologisch gesehen, die Heilung der blutflüssigen Frau als Pendant zu der Heilung des Jairustochter verstehen und umgekehrt. Erst gemein-

2001), 74–95; Musa W. Dube, “Fifty Years of Bleeding: A Storytelling Feminist Reading of Mark 5:24–43,” in Other Ways of Reading: African Women and the Bible, ed. Musa W. Dube (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature; Geneva: World Council of Churches, 2001), 11–17; Kotansky, “Jesus and the Lady of the Abyss,” 77–120; Martha Frederiks, “Miss Jairus Speaks: Developments in African Feminist Theology,” Exchange 32 (2003): 66–82; LeMarquand, An Issue of Relevance, 119–167. 134   Drewermann, Tiefenpsychologie; Aichele et al., “Psychoanalytic Criticism,” 187–224; William R. Tate, “Psychoanalytical Criticism,” in idem, Interpreting the Bible: A Handbook of Terms and Methods (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2006), 288–291; Zwiep, Tussen tekst en lezer, 2:57–62, and the literature cited there. 135   Drewermann, Tiefenpsychologie, 2:277–309; idem, Das Markusevangelium: Bilder von Erlösung, 2 vols. (Olten: Walter, 1987–1989); idem, Das Matthäusevangelium: Bilder der Erfüllung, 3 vols. (Olten: Walter, 1992–1995); idem, Das Lukasevangelium: Bilder erinnerter Zukunft, 2 vols. (Düsseldorf: Patmos, 2009).

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sam und in wechselseitiger Ergänzung beleuchten beide Frauengestalten die Facetten ein und desselben Problems: wie man als Frau inmitten einer Gesellschaft von Männern leben und ein gewisses Maß an Glück und Gesundheit finden kann.136

On a more popular level, Anselm Grün approaches the story (Mark 5:21– 43) from the perspective of parent-child relationships after the manner of Drewermann.137 He focuses on the three roles (coping strategies) identified by psychologist Julia Onken that daughters may assume to solve conflicts with their father, namely, to please the father, to impress him by her achievements or to resist him (54–56). As a synagogue leader (“Wir würden sagen, er war Pfarrer oder Religionslehrer,” 53), Jairus must have been constantly at risk to identify his professional and social roles with his role as a father in the family. He seems to think that he can treat his children the same way he treats his subordinates (53). Perhaps the girl realized that she was overlooked by her father and escaped into one of these roles to attract his attention. When she fell ill and died, the father was incapable of offering help: Der Vater kann nicht der Therapeut für seine Tochter sein. Da muss ein anderer kommen und seine schützenden Hände über der Tochter ausbreiten, damit sie wieder atmen und in aller Freiheit über sich reden kann. Wenn der Vater auf die Tochter einredet, wird sie nie gesund werden. Sie bleibt das von ihm infizierte Kind, das nicht erwachsen werden kann. Wenn der Vater die Tochter zu heilen versucht, merkt er gar nicht, dass er ja selbst das Problem ist. Die Tochter wird nicht gesund, weil sie zu sehr an den Vater gebunden ist, im positiven wie im negativen Sinn. Entweder bewundert sie ihn so sehr, dass sie sich nicht von ihm lösen kann, oder sie wird von ihm ständig entwertet und in ihrer Entwicklung als Frau lächerlich gemacht. In beiden Fällen entsteht eine Bindung, die der Vater auch durch Änderung des Verhaltens und durch guten Willen nicht lösen kann. Es braucht den Löser von außen, der sie auslöst aus der Hand des Vaters. Die Tatsache, dass der Vater seine Ohnmacht anerkennt und seine Tochter den Händen und der Obhut Jesu anvertraut, ist schon der erste Schritt der Heilung.138   Drewermann, Tiefenpsychologie, 2:280 (his italics).  Anselm Grün and Maria-Magdalena Robben, Finde deine Lebensspur: Die Wunden der Kindheit heilen. Spirituelle Impulse, HSpektrum 5406 (Freiburg: Herder, 2001, 112012), 52–86. 138   Grün and Robben, Finde deine Lebensspur, 57. The Dutch pastor Nico ter Linden (1936–2018) also falls back on Drewermann’s depth-psychological insights in a six-volume retelling of Bible stories entitled Het verhaal gaat (The Story Goes). For his interpretation, see Nico ter Linden, Het verhaal gaat, vol. 2: Marcus en Mattheus (Amsterdam: Balans, 1998), 64–68. See also the work of Peter Trummer discussed above. From a totally different (conservative Evangelical) context, cf. the approach of Karl Heinz Kepler, ed., The Therapeutic Bible: The New Testament and the Book of Psalms. Acceptance, Grace, Truth, Good News Translation (São Paulo: Bible Society of Brazil, 2015), 78–81, where the commentators (psychotherapists and mental health professionals) apply the story to inner processes, e.g., when Mark says that Jesus returned to the other shore, they comment: “We also have other ‘shores’ within us; other places that are not always heard. Let’s allow him to lead us to the other ‘shores’ of our being, the places that Jesus wants to reach.” And when Jairus utters his request to Jesus, it is said: “Metaphorically, we can make the words of Jairus our own, and cry out to Jesus, saying that ‘our inner child’ is facing death. This happens when, in the course of life, 136 137

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A third example of a psychoanalytic interpretation is offered by Rodney Bomford in a recent article in Practical Theology.139 He connects the psychoanalytic theory of Ignacio Matte Blanco, esp. his notion of the “unrepressed unconscious” and its symmetric logic with Mark’s account of Jairus’s daughter and the haemorrhaging woman. Since faith is not a matter of thought alone but also of emotion, Bomford argues that the underlying symmetry (both contrast and sameness) engages the reader at an unconscious level: “The double story can be read as a piece of calculated rhetoric, exhibiting the union of opposites and symmetric logic. The two stories are marked at every point by their contrast to each other. But there are also clues that point to their sameness; and when the opposition becomes clear, so this sameness becomes strikingly apparent too” (46). He suggests the use of visualization to feel the effect of the story on the perceptive reader: Some readers may apprehend that significance more readily if one imagines such contrasts depicted in a triptych. One might visualize Christ standing in the middle panel, the woman touching his garment on one side, the little girl being touched on the other side. The two contrasting moments of healing are now united in a single image drawn from two different times and places, as can happen in dreams. If one now dwells on the triptych, not conceptually but with intuitive understanding, the conscious mind may become attuned to the unconscious and a significance is apprehended that cannot be wholly expressed in words. The unconscious, one might imagine, is timelessly dwelling on a gallery of such triptychs as consciousness sequentially reads the text!140

Generally speaking, psychoanalytical interpretations are especially popular in more praxis-oriented (pastoral) approaches that are averse of the methods of historical criticism, although it is fair to say that many of its practitioners at least pay lip-service to the legitimacy of the historical-critical method. 3. Further Developments Building on poststructuralist and deconstructionist theories, in recent times more experimental approaches to the story have been undertaken, informed by empirical hermeneutics and readings “from below” as a protest against white, male, Eurocentric readings of the texts.141 These readings emerge from the life experience of ordinary readers, especially the poor and marginalized, and deconstruct the narratives by exposing the binary oppositions we get used to living only on the external side, on the outer ‘shore’ of life – for example, the ‘shore’ of rationality, or power, or the role we play in society (mother, wife, teacher, pastor, etc.” Similar lessons are drawn from the presence of the crowds (“Within us there is also the spectator side”) and the haemorrhaging woman (“our adult side”). 139  Rodney Bomford, “Jairus, His Daughter, the Woman and the Saviour: The Communication of Symmetric Thinking in the Gospel of St Mark,” PrT 3 (2010): 41–50. 140   Bomford, “Jairus,” 46–47. 141   See Hans de Wit et al., eds., Through the Eyes of Another: Intercultural Reading of the Bible (Elkhart, IN: Institute of Mennonite Studies; Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit, 2004).

H. Contextual Approaches

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and criticizing seemingly stable meanings. Examples can be found in the work of Gerald West, Sibeko and Haddad, and many more.142 Postcolonial hermeneutics in particular has shed new light on how interpreters have dealt with the haemorrhaging woman in the light of the HIV / AIDS in Africa.143 The publication, in 2013, of the first volume of the Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen under the editorship of Ruben Zimmer­ mann, is a landmark in the study of the miracle stories of the gospel tradition and the early apocryphal Jesus tradition.144 It is the most elaborate treatment of miracle stories in German scholarship to date. In addition to instructive introductions to more general topics related to miracle stories in the context of antiquity and modern questions, and discussions of specific miracle stories in the Jesus tradition, it contains three articles on the raising of Jairus’s daughter and the healing of the haemorrhaging woman: Werner Kahl on Mark, Christian Eberhart on Matthew and some early apocryphal traditions, and Mira Stare on Luke.145 This volume will surely serve as a major tool for the study of early Christian miracle stories in the coming decades. This will also be the case with Craig Keener’s comprehensive twovolume study of the reliability of miracle accounts in antiquity and modern times, which despite its apologetic undertone deserves to be taken seriously by all scholars interested in the historical aspects of the New Testament miracle stories.146

142  See Gerald O. West, “Constructing Critical and Contextual Readings with Ordinary Readers,” JTSA 92 (1995): 60–69; Sibeko and Haddad, “Reading the Bible,” 83–92. 143  Tessa MacKenzie, “A Call to Christians: A Meditation on Luke 8:43,” PJT 36 (2006): 141; Mmapula Lefa, “Reading the Bible Amidst the HIV and AIDS Pandemic in Botswana,” in African and European Readers of the Bible in Dialogue: In Quest of a Shared Meaning, ed. Hans de Wit and Gerald O. West, SRA 32 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 285–303. 144  Ruben Zimmermann, ed., Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen, vol. 1: Die Wunder Jesu (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2013). 145  Werner Kahl, “Glauben lässt Jesu Wunderkraft heilsam überfließen (Die Tochter des Jairus und die blutflüssige Frau) – Mk 5,21–43,” in Zimmermann, Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen, 1:278–293; Christian Eberhart, “Auch Frauen sind Wunder wert (Die Heilung der blutflüssigen Frau und die Auferweckung der Tochter eines Synagogenvorstehers) – Mt 9,18–26 (EpAp 5,4–7; EvNik 7),” in Kompendium, 1:416–425; Mira Stare, “Im Stress Wunder wirken (Die Heilung der blutenden Frau und die Auferweckung der Tochter des Jaïrus) – Lk 8,40–56,” in Kompendium, 1:583–592. 146  Craig S. Keener, Miracles: The Credibility of the New Testament Accounts, 2 vols. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2011). Cf. also Stefan Alkier and Annette Weissenrieder, eds., Miracles Revisited: New Testament Miracle Stories and Their Concepts of Reality, SBR 2 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2013).

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I. Conclusion In this chapter, I have sketched the major lines of the research history and the research context within which this investigation situates itself. A preliminary summary of the approach taken in the following chapters has already been given at the end of the Introduction and need not be reiterated. It will, however, be helpful to identify more clearly the unresolved issues, gaps and blind spots in current scholarship that legitimize the addition of yet another study of this well-known biblical episode to the already vast amount of literature there is. After all, the task of a New Testament scholar is not to repeat the work of others but to test the available evidence and to advance knowledge. Before we do that, we must establish common ground and see where consensus has emerged and in which direction current research is heading (I take common ground and scholarly consensus as belonging to a scholar’s “legitime Vorurteile” that need not be defended over and over again, except when compelling arguments require him to reconsider his initial position).147 There is, first of all, common ground in the recognition that the gospel writers deserve individual treatment and need to be studied on their own merits and within their own first-century context. The days of rigid harmonization and speculative allegorization are long gone. Second, most gospel scholars argue for Markan priority as the best working hypothesis and probably none of them would maintain that it fully explains all the evidence there is. Third, most scholars will agree that a literary (narrative-critical) approach is part and parcel of the exegetical task at hand, and that none of the available exegetical tools and techniques can claim exclusivity. Having said that, it may occasion some surprise to discover that there is no recent comprehensive monograph on Mark 5:21–43; Matt 9:18–26; Luke 8:40–56 in English, and that the works there are have normally been written from a single methodological perspective, such as redaction criticism, feminist criticism, literary criticism, and so on. The present investigation intends to fill this gap by offering an integrative (interdisciplinary) approach, informed by exegetical, historical-critical, literary and hermeneutical considerations. To give just one example of how this may work in practice: the traditional quest of sources – popular in the heydays of Redaktionsgeschichte – has lost the attraction of scholars and had to give way to narrative analysis, reader-response criticism and poststructuralist approaches. On all accounts the source-critical question seems to have reached an impasse. No real progress has been made since the seventies and eighties of the former century. 147  Hans-Georg Gadamer, Wahrheit und Methode: Grundzüge einer philosophischen Hermeneutik, GW 1 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1960, 61990), 275, 281. One is reminded of Rudolf Bultmann’s careful distinction between “vorurteilslos” and “voraussetzungslos,” in his essay “Ist voraussetzungslose Exegese möglich?” (1957), in idem, Glauben und Verstehen: Gesammelte Aufsätze, 4 vols., UTB.W 1762 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1961, 41993), 3:142–150.

I. Conclusion

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However, a promising way forward may be the current interest in the study of orality, scribality and performance criticism. In this work, an attempt will be made to integrate where possible the insights of traditional historicalcritical analysis with these recent trends and developments. Having reviewed trends and developments in the story’s Auslegungs­ geschichte (and to a lesser extent its Wirkungsgeschichte) and having positioned the present work, we must now turn to an analysis of the pericopes themselves, beginning with an exercise in what is traditionally called philological criticism, the study of words and concepts, their meaning (lexicography) and their use in context (semantics). This will provide the basis for further explorations.

Chapter 2

Text and Translation A. Introduction In this chapter matters pertaining to the translation of Mark 5:21–43, Matt 9:18–26 and Luke 8:40–56 (in this order) will be discussed in an attempt to come to a better understanding of the choices made in modern translations, evaluate differences between the various translations, including vocabulary, syntax, semantics, punctuation and other such matters of detail, and thus gain an initial grasp of the texts and the interpretative issues involved.1 The intention of this more strictly philological chapter is not to provide a new translation of my own. The world is already blessed with numerous versions of the New Testament in many languages. Giving my own translation would only add one more and, given the wider aims of this investigation, a very inadequate one, since my objective is not to provide a translation aimed at a specific target group, which would narrow down the scope unduly, but to map the diversity and variety of translation possibilities already at hand as a stepping-stone to further research. From the perspective of hermeneutics, detailed interaction with translations obviously has a wirkungsgeschichtliche dimension. It is not without reason that Frederick Danker coined the term transegesis to denote the interpretive nature of translational work.2

B. Lexical, Syntactical and Semantic Notes on Mark 5:21–43 1. Translation Matters in Mark 5:21–24 [21] Καὶ διαπεράσαντος τοῦ Ἰησοῦ [ἐν τῷ πλοίῳ] πάλιν εἰς τὸ πέραν συνήχθη ὄχλος πολὺς ἐπ᾽ αὐτόν, καὶ ἦν παρὰ τὴν θάλασσαν.3 – The copulative καί 1   Abbreviations of Bible translations follow the conventions of BibleWorks 9.0. They are grouped by language (English, German, Dutch, French, Italian, Spanish, separated by a semicolon) and date of publication (older versions first). On the ancient versions, see the classic, yet still valuable work of Bruce M. Metzger, The Early Versions of the New Testament: Their Origin, Transmission and Limitations. (Oxford: Clarendon, 1977). 2   Frederick W. Danker, Multipurpose Tools for Bible Study: Revised and Expanded Edition with CD-ROM (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993, 22003), 191. 3   On this passage, cf. the following analytical tools and studies: Nigel Turner, “The Style

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loosely connects 5:21–43 to the preceding section (5:1–20) and need not be translated.4 nkj translates “Now when Jesus…” Διαπεράσαντος, ptc. aor. act. from διαπεράω, means “go over or across” (LSJ 406), “cross over” [L&N 1:186 “to move from one side to another of some geographical object (for example, body of water, chasm, valley, etc.)”; “movement across the area between two sides of a geographical object, cross (over),” with destination given, cf. Deut 30:13 LXX; BDAG 235; LEH 143]; “to pass through, pass beyond, cross” (Montanari 501). Cf. 6:53 διαπεράσαντες ἐπὶ τὴν γῆν ἦλθον εἰς Γεννησαρέτ. According to Camille Focant, the formulation διαπεράσαντος … εἰς τὸ πέραν “est disgracieuse en grec et pourrait bien être une traduction assez littérale de l’araméen.”5 (τό) πλοῖον, means “floating vessel, hence generally, ship” (LSJ 1422); “any kind of boat, from small fishing boats as on Lake Galilee to large seagoing vessels” (L&N 1:58; cf. Montanari 1686); “ship,” of any kind, though esp. a merchant ship,” “a relatively small fishing vessel, such as would be used on Lake Gennesaret, boat” (BDAG 830–831; Bauer 1353). Cf. Mark 3:19, where πλοιάριον, “a small boat,” is used (“hence it is probably no longer thought of as a diminutive,” BDAG 830; cf. Bauer 1352; cf. LSJ 1422). In context, the phrase ἐν τῷ πλοίῳ may best be translated as “in the ship” or “in the boat,” i.e. the ship/boat already referred to in v. 18 (cf. 4:36, 37), rather than as an idiomatic “by boat” (nkj, niv) or “in a boat” (web, net). In the standard text (NA 28) πάλιν modifies διαπεράσαντος “having crossed over again.” Note, however, the remarks by C.H. Turner on Mark’s idiomatic use of πάλιν.6 He suggests that in Mark it is “a very light and unemphatic particle,” best translated as “back” (115), and that Luke (see below) has a vehement dislike of it. There are a number of manuscripts in of Mark,” in vol. 4 of James Hope Moulton, A Grammar of New Testament Greek (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1976), 11–30; Gert Lüderitz, “Rhetorik, Poetik, Kompositionstechnik im Markus­ evangelium,” in Markus-Philologie: Historische, literargeschichtliche und stilistische Unter­­ suchungen zum zweiten Evangelium, ed. Hubert Cancik, WUNT 33 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1984), 165–203; Wilfrid Haubeck and Heinrich von Siebenthal, Neuer Sprachlicher Schlüssel zum griechischen Neuen Testament, vol. 1, Matthäus-Apostelgeschichte (Giessen: Brunnen, 1997), 243–246 (= NSS); Rodney J. Decker, Mark 1–8: A Handbook on the Greek Text, BHGNT (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2014), 127–143. 4   A number of modern versions leave καί untranslated (njb, niv, nlt, net, nab, nau; lei, kbs, gnb, nbv; lsg, tob, bfc; ein). On the various modes of introducing (major and minor) narrative participants, see Stephen H. Levinsohn, “Participant Reference in Koine Greek Narrative,” in Linguistics and New Testament Interpretation: Essays on Discourse Analysis, ed. David Alan Black, with Katharine Barnwell and Stephen Levinsohn (Nashville, TN: Broadman, 1991), 31–44. 5  Camille Focant, L’évangile selon Marc, ConBNT 2 (Paris: Cerf, 2004), 215, following Gérard Rochais, Les récits de résurrection des morts dans le Nouveau Testament, SNTSMS 40 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), 43. 6  J. Keith Elliott, The Language and Style of the Gospel of Mark: An Edition of C.H. Turner’s ‘Notes on Marcan Usage᾽ Together with Other Comparable Studies, NovTSup 71 (Leiden: Brill, 1993), 111–115.

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which πάλιν modifies συνήχθη “(the crowd) assembled again” (see on this textual variant, Appendix 1: Text and Transmission). The adverb πέραν marks “a position across from something else, with intervening space, on the other side” (BDAG 796). In classical Greek πέραν is usually used for “the other side” of water (sea, river) and, as here, frequently so with the article (LSJ 1365; Montanari 1615). The phrase εἰς τὸ πέραν modifies διαπεράσαντος, a combination apparently not found in classical Greek but attested in Deut 30:13 LXX (Τίς διαπεράσει ἡμῖν εἰς τὸ πέραν τῆς θαλάσσης;).7 In Mark τὸ πέραν usually denotes the eastern shore (3:8 πέραν τοῦ Ἰορδάνου; 4:35; 5:1; 6:45; 8:13; cf. 10:1), but there is nothing that forces us to take that meaning here.8 In context, the reference is clearly to Jesus’s return from the eastern coast to the western coast and both Matthew and Luke have taken it that way (Matt 9:1; Luke 8:40).9 Συνήχθη is the indic. aor. pass. from συνάγω “bring together, gather together (of persons, animals etc.)” (LSJ 1691; Montanari 2017), “to cause to come together, gather (in)” (BDAG 962; cf. LEH 585–585). The noun (ὁ) ὄχλος refers to a “crowd, throng,” “generally, mass, multitude” (LSJ 1281; Montanari 1512); “a casual non-membership group of people, fairly large in size and assembled for whatever purpose” (L&N 1:121). The prepositional phrase ἐπ᾽ αὐτόν “upon him” does not seem to match well with συνάγω. Elsewhere Mark uses συνάγω without a prepositional phrase (Mark 2:2) or with πρός and an accusative (4:1; 6:30; 7:1). With ἐπί, the verb is found in the New Testament only in Matt 22:34, where it is said idiomatically that the Pharisees gathered together (ἐπὶ τὸ αὐτό), and in Acts 4:26 (a quotation from Ps 2:2) and 27 (an allusion to the same psalm, both with the meaning “against one”). See also LSJ 1692 col. 1 for a few more examples. Henry Barclay Swete calls it a constructio praegnans and admits that it is “not common” and “when preceded by a verb which implies rest as here it is a little difficult.”10 Robert A. Guelich renders it neutrally and

  Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 43. Cf. also LEH 480. Note that the construction of (εἰς τὸ) πέραν with a verb of motion as such is not strange in classical Greek. A close parallel can be found in Xenophon, Anab. 3.5.2: διαβιβάζεσθαι εἰς τὸ πέραν τοῦ ποταμοῦ “to cross to the other side of the river” (Montanari 1615). 8  Contra Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 43–44, following Karl Ludwig Schmidt, Der Rahmen der Geschichte Jesu: Literarkritische Untersuchungen zur ältesten Jesus­überlieferung (Berlin: Trowitzsch, 1919; repr. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1969), 146. Also Ludger Schenke, Die Wundererzählungen im Markusevangelium, SBB 5 (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1974), 196. 9   For the geography, see Tübinger Bibelatlas: Auf der Grundlage des Tübinger Atlas des Vorderen Orients (TAVO), ed. Siegfried Mittmann and Götz Schmitt (Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft, 2001), B V 17. 10  Henry Barclay Swete, The Gospel according to St. Mark: The Greek Text with Introduction, Notes, and Indices (London: Macmillan, 1898, 31909), 100–101. He appears, however, to overlook its attestation in the LXX. See below. 7

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freely as “a large crowd gathered around him.”11 However, in the light of the somewhat negative role of the Markan crowd in the present pericope and elsewhere in his gospel, it is probably used here in a more hostile sense, “against him” (cf. LSJ 623).12 BDAG 962 (Bauer 1561) refers to Gen 34:30; Josh 10:6, and Hos 10:10 for parallels of the meaning “against someone.” A distant parallel to the scene with the crowd (and the touching of clothes) can be found in Book 5 of Athenaeus’s The Learned Banqueters (early third century CE): ὁ δὲ (Athenion) μόλις προῆλθε δορυφορούμενος ὑπὸ τῶν εὐδοκιμεῖν παρὰ τῷ δήμῳ θελόντων, ἑκάστου σπεύδοντος κἂν προσάψασθαι τῆς ἐσθῆτος, “He (Athenion) made his way forward with difficulty, escorted by a bodyguard of men who wanted to gain favor with the people; everyone was eager simply to touch his clothing (προσάψασθαι τῆς ἐσθῆτος).”13 Strictly speaking, the crowd could be the grammatical subject of ἦν,14 but Jesus (“he”) is the more likely subject. Some translations avoid the issue: “a large crowd gathered around him on the shore” (nlt); “Dat was aan het meer” ( kbs).15 R.H. Gundry says that “[m]atters will not change very much if we treat the crowd rather than Jesus as the subject of ‘was by the sea’,”16 except, of course, that the reader’s mental picture (or in narrative-critical terms the point-of-view and/or the point of identification) is slightly different. The imperfect ἦν is descriptive, accenting the durative aspect (cf.

11   Robert A. Guelich, Mark 1–8:26, WBC 34A (Waco, TX: Word, 1989), 290 (italics mine). Also niv, nlt, nrsv, net, nab, nau; nlb (“bei ihm”); hsv (“bij Hem”). Jakob van Bruggen, Marcus: Het evangelie volgens Petrus, CNT derde serie (Kampen: Kok, 1988), 124 (following Wohlenberg), comments more to the point: “men stort zich als het ware op Hem.” Older English versions usually have “unto Him” (tnt, pnt, kjv, dra). 12   Apart from the idiomatic expression συνάγω ἐπὶ τὸ αὐτό (Judg 6:33; 2 Kgs 10:15; Neh 4:8; 6:2; Ps 2:2; 101 (102):22), in the LXX the combination συνάγω ἐπὶ τινά is found in Gen 34:30; Josh 10:6; 2 Kgs 17:11; Ezra 8:41; Neh 5:16; Ps 30 (31):13; 34 (35):15; Ezek 16:37; Dan 11:40; 1 Macc 3:52; 10:61 vl; 15:12; Hab 2:16. A number of these instances have a “hostile” connotation (references are from HRCS 1307–1309). 13   Athenaeus, Deipn. 5.212 (Olson, LCL 208:518–519). 14  Erich Klostermann, Das Markusevangelium, HNT 3 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1936, 41950), 51. Cf. also J.A.C. van Leeuwen, Het heilig Evangelie volgens Markus. KNT 2 (Amsterdam: H.A. van Bottenburg, 1928; repr. Utrecht: Wristers, 1983), 92: “Het subj. van ἦν παρὰ τὴν θάλασσαν kàn Jezus zijn, van wien echter in nomin. niet wordt gesproken vs. 21; evengoed kan ὁ ὄχλος als subj. worden genomen en καὶ ἦν … worden opgevat als een Semitische constructie, te vert[alen]: die bij de zee was.” 15   bgt translates: “Daar kwam een grote groep mensen naar Jezus toe.” On the principles underlying this recent Dutch translation “in plain language,” see Matthijs de Jong, Hoe vertaal je de Bijbel in gewone taal? Uitgangspunten, keuzes, dillema’s (Heerenveen: Royal Jongbloed, 2014); idem, De Bijbel in Gewone Taal / The Bible in Plain Language (Haarlem: The Netherlands Bible Society, 2015). 16   Robert H. Gundry, Mark: A Commentary on His Apology for the Cross, 2 vols. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 1:267.

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Blass-Debrunner 327 “Das Imperfekt zur Schilderung der Handlung”).17 Παρά with an accusative means “besides, near, by” (with a verb of rest) (LSJ 1302; Montanari 1540; BDAG 757); Vulg. has “erat circa mare.” The noun θάλασσα is normally used for a rather large “sea” or “lake.” It is not infrequently used of the Mediterranean Sea (LSJ 781; Montanari 921; cf. LEH 269). The use of θάλασσα rather than λίμνη “lake, pool” to refer to the Sea of Galilee (e.g. Mark 1:16) “reflects Semitic usage, in which all bodies of water from ocean to pools could be referred to by a single term” (L&N 1:14). See BDAG 442 for more literature. The Einheitsübersetzung takes καὶ ἦν παρὰ τὴν θάλασσαν as the introduction to the next clause: “Während er noch am See war, kam ein Synagogenvorsteher…” (also gnb “En terwijl hij nog bij de oever was…”). [22] Καὶ ἔρχεται εἷς τῶν ἀρχισυναγώγων ὀνόματι Ἰάϊρος καὶ ἰδὼν αὐτὸν πίπτει πρὸς τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ – The copulative καί introduces a new action, “now” (cf. niv, nrsv “then”; different gnb; ein). This is the first instance in this pericope that Mark uses the historic present, ἔρχεται “(he) comes.”18 Both the use of the historic present in this and the next verses and the use of oratio obliqua in the next serve to enhance the liveliness of the story [cf. Rhet. Her. 4.54.68; Quintilian, Inst. 8.3.61–72 (Russell, LCL 126:374– 381)].19 As elsewhere in the gospels (e.g. Matt 8:19), εἷς is used here in a weakened sense for the indefinite pronoun τις (cf. BDAG 292; Bauer 466; different in classical Greek, εἷς τις “some one,” LSJ 492; Montanari 611); Vulg. has here “quidam.” 20 The word ἀρχισυνάγωγος “leader/ruler of a synagogue, synagogue-leader” is a common designation of an esteemed official charged with the daily affairs in a local synagogue. 21 It was his (or   nrd translates “en hij is bij de zee gebleven.” nrd (= Naardense Bijbel, revised edition 2014) is a concordant and idiosyncratic Dutch translation in the tradition of the so-called “Amsterdam school.” E.g. on the analogy of Hebrew and arguing that in Dutch the narrative mode is usually in the present, the Greek aorist (the alleged Greek narrative mode) is consistently rendered as a present tense (here: “Als Jezus in de boot weer naar de overkant oversteekt, verzamelt zich een grote schare bij hem”) and the imperfect as a perfect tense (here: “En hij is bij de zee gebleven.”). On the wider theoretical backgrounds of this translation, see Theo van Willigenburg and Joep Dubbink, Van aanschijn tot zaaizaad: In gesprek met de vertaler van de Naardense Bijbel (Vught: Skandalon, 2007). 18   On Mark’s particular use of the historic present, see further Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction (under “Markan Fingerprints”). 19   Cf. Simon Légasse, L’Évangile de Marc, 2 vols. LeDiv.C 5 (Paris: Cerf, 1997), 1:336: “Trois présents ( v. 22–23a) campent une scène d’une particulière vivacité.” 20  Vincent Taylor, The Gospel according to St. Mark: The Greek Text with Introduction, Notes, and Indices (London: Macmillan; New York: St. Martin’s, 1952, 21966), 287: “The use of εἷς = τις may be a Semitism … but the well established usage of the LXX … shows that this view is not necessary unless it is otherwise supported in a given case. 21  According to the Supplement of LSJ 54, it was a “Jewish honorary title,” with reference to the present verse. Cf. also PGL 240–241, with reference to Justin, Dial. 137.2 (ed. Marcovich 307; ANF 1:268). nrd seems to eliminate much of the couleur locale by translating 17

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her!)22 task to conduct worship and to apportion functions in it, such as the recital of prayers, the reading and exposition of Scripture, and the maintenance of the building. 23 This duty was an administrative, not a religious one (ἀρχιερεύς). Although the plural τῶν ἀρχισυναγώγων does not necessarily indicate that there could be several leaders in one and the same synagogue – the plural may simply indicate that Jairus belonged to the class of synagogue rulers (a so-called pluralis categoriae; cf. Vulg. “quidam de archisynagogis”)24 – Acts 13:15 suggests that (at least in Luke’s perception) there were local synagogues with more than one leader. 25 I see no reason to doubt that in a pre-70 setting συναγωγή may well refer to a building, even though “gathering, assembly” is possible in many cases (BDAG 963). Of “een van de samenkomst-oversten” (a neologism). Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 7.10.4 (Oulton, LCL 265:150–151), quoting the third-century Christian bishop of Alexandria Dionysius, uses the word for Macrianus, an Egyptian leader, “the master and ruler of the Egyptian magicians” (ὁ διδάσκαλος καὶ τῶν ἀπ᾽ Αἰγύπτου μάγων ἀρχισυνάγωγος), almost certainly under Christian influence (the context of Eusebius is Rev 13:5). 22   LSJ Suppl 54 refers to female synagogue-leaders s.v. ἀρχισυναγώγισσα and ἀρχι­συνάγωγος. See also NewDocs 4:219 and Bernadette J. Brooten, Women Leaders in the Ancient Synagogue: Inscriptional Evidence and Background Issues, BJSt 36 (Chico, CA: Scholars, 1982). 23   Str-B 4/1:145–147; HJP 2:423–454; Lee I. Levine, “Synagogues,” EDSS 2 (2000): 905– 908. For historical and archaeological backgrounds of ancient Jewish synagogues, see also the various articles in Birger Ollson and Mark Zetterholm, eds., The Ancient Synagogue from Its Origins until 200 C.E. Papers Presented at an International Conference at Lund University, October 14–17, 2001, ConBNT 39 (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, 2003); John S. Kloppenborg, “The Theodotos Synagogue Inscription and the Problem of First-Century Synagogue Buildings,” in Jesus and Archaeology, ed. James H. Charlesworth (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 236–282; “Appendix IV: Synagogues,” in A Comparative Handbook to the Gospel of Mark, ed. Bruce D. Chilton and Darrell L. Bock, NTGJC 1 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 568–572; Lester L. Grabbe, “Synagogue and Sanhedrin in the First Century,” in The Study of Jesus, vol. 2 of Handbook for the Study of the Historical Jesus, 4 vols., ed. Tom Holmén and Stanley E. Porter (Leiden: Bril, 2010), 1723–1745. 24  Robert G. Bratcher and Eugene A. Nida, A Translator’s Handbook on the Gospel of Mark, HeTr (London: United Bible Societies, 1961), 169. A different explanation is given by Joel Marcus, Mark 1–8: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, 2 vols., AYB 27 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999/2005), 355–356: “Mark’s phrase ‘one of the…’ may also be intended to emphasize that not all of the Jewish authorities were opposed to Jesus …, similar to the point made by the phrase ‘one of the scribes’ in 12:28–34 and the reverse of the point made by the reference to Judas as ‘one of the Twelve’ in 14:10, 43” (italics original). 25  Cf. hsv “een van de hoofden van de synagoge.” The title ἀρχισυνάγωγος is also found outside Judaism, see Wolfgang Schrage, ἀρχισυνάγωγος, TWNT 7:842–845 (TDNT 7:844–847); HJP 2:434–436; Brooten, Women Leaders, 64–72; Gregory H.R. Horsley, “An archisynagogos of Corinth?” NewDocs 4 (1987): 213–220 (no. 113); Tessa Rajak and David Noy, “Archisynagogoi: Office, Title and Social Status in the Greco-Jewish Synagogue,” JRS 83 (1993): 75–93; David A. Fiensy, “The Roman Empire and Asia Minor,” in The Face of New Testament Studies: A Survey of Recent Research, ed. Scott McKnight and Grant R. Osborne (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic; Leicester: Apollos, 2004), 46–48; Adela Yarbro Collins, Mark: A Commentary, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), 279.

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course, the building in question need not necessarily have been a purposebuilt religious structure.26 Although the authenticity of the words ὀνόματι Ἰάϊρος “by the name of Jairus,” “named Jairus,” has been disputed, most scholars nowadays think they belong to the original text.27 According to Moule, ὀνόματι is a dative on the analogy of a Latin dativus commodi.28 The name Jair (‫ )יאיר‬also occurs in the Hebrew Bible (BDAG 461; Bauer 748)29 and in rabbinic sources,30 and means “he who enlightens” or “he who is enlightened.” 31 However, it is doubtful whether this is relevant for the interpretation of the Greek text, despite the numerous attempts in Church history to decode the name by allegorical interpretation (see Chapter 1 above).32 The present circumstantial participle clause ἰδὼν αὐτόν modifies πίπτει κτλ. and may best be translated contemporaneously, “when he saw (him)” (nrsv) or “seeing him” (web; cf. niv). Jairus fell πρὸς τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ, sc. at Jesus’s feet (αὐτοῦ),33 which in the cultural context of the day was a conventional act 26  See Kloppenborg, “Theodotus Synagogue Inscription,” for a judicious and convincing analysis. 27   See below, Appendix 1: Text and Transmission, under Mark 5:22. 28   Charles F.D. Moule, An Idiom-Book of New Testament Greek (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1953, 21959), 46. 29  Hans Klein, Das Lukasevangelium, KEK 1/3 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2006), 323 n.16 with reference to Num 32:41; Deut 3:14; Josh 13:30; Judg 10:3–5 etc. 30  Marcus Jastrow, Dictionary of the Targumim, the Talmud Babli and Yerushalmi, and the Midrashic Literature, 2 vols. in one (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, [1903/1943] 2005), 559. On the (male Jewish) name Jairus, see the various entries in Tal Ilan, Lexicon of Jewish Names in Late Antiquity I: Palestine 330 BCE–200 CE, TSAJ 91 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), ad loc.; idem, Lexicon of Jewish Names in Late Antiquity II: Palestine 200-650, TSAJ 148 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 93, 422; idem, in collaboration with Thomas Ziem, Lexicon of Jewish Names in Late Antiquity III: The Western Diaspora 330 BCE–650 CE, TSAJ 126 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 95; idem, with the collaboration of Kerstin Hünefeld, Lexicon of Jewish Names in Late Antiquity IV: The Eastern Diaspora 330 BCE–650 CE, TSAJ 141 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011), ad loc., and in general, Margaret H. Williams, “Palestinian Jewish Personal Names in Acts,” in The Book of Acts in Its Palestinian Setting, ed. Richard Bauckham, BAFCS 4 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; Carlisle: Paternoster, 1995), 79–113. 31  So already Jerome, Nom. hebr. (CLCLT); The Venerable Bede, Exp. Marc. 2.5 (PL 92:179): “Iairus, id est inluminans sive inluminatus,” and the texts cited above (Chapter 1: History and Research). 32   Pace Rudolf Pesch, Das Markusevangelium 1. Teil: Einleitung und Kommentar zu Kap. 1,1–8,26, 2 vols., HThKNT 2 (Freiburg: Herder, 1976, 41984), 299–300; Marcus, Mark, 1:356. Étienne Trocmé, L’Évangile selon saint Marc, CNT 2 (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 2000), 149, thinks that this usage is “totalement étranger à Marc.” 33   sv “viel hij aan Zijn voeten,” (hsv) “wierp hij zich neer aan Zijn voeten.” Marla J. Selvidge, Woman, Cult, and Miracle Recital: A Redactional Critical Investigation on Mark 5:24–34 (Lewisburg: Bucknell University Press; London: Associated University Presses, 1990), 94, comments: “Since αὐτου is masculine, there is some question as to whether Jairus fell to his own feet or before Jesus,” but this seems to be a somewhat farfetched interpretation. bgt has simply “knielde voor hem neer.”

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of reverence,34 here notably so “sans égards pour son propre rang social.” 35 Note the piling up of words starting with π- in this and the next verse (5x), which may be a way of dramatizing (in onomatopoeic fashion!) the desperate Jairus rushing in (cf. also v. 40).36 [23] καὶ παρακαλεῖ αὐτὸν πολλὰ λέγων ὅτι τὸ θυγάτριόν μου ἐσχάτως ἔχει, ἵνα ἐλθὼν ἐπιθῇς τὰς χεῖρας αὐτῇ ἵνα σωθῇ καὶ ζήσῃ. – In the present context παρακαλέω (here in the historic present) means “to beseech, to entreat” (LSJ 1311; cf. Montanari 1550).37 Cf. Chariton, Chaer. 3.1.1: παρακάλει … ἵνα … προσέλθει (Goold, LCL 481:134–135). As in v. 10, the adverbial use of πολλά must be translated as “urgently” or “earnestly” (niv), rather than “repeatedly,” as nrsv has it.38 The element of repetition would be expressed not so much by πολλά as by the use of the imperfect (παρεκάλει), which is here however textually uncertain and looks like a harmonization with v. 10 (see Appendix 1: Text and Transmission). Mark’s designation of Jairus’s daughter as τὸ θυγάτριόν, “little daughter” (LSJ 808; Montanari 952; NSS 1:243) is the first of a series of roughly synonymous terms to designate the girl: ἡ θυγάτηρ “daughter” (v. 35), τὸ παιδίον “child” (vv. 39–41), and τὸ κοράσιον “girl” (v. 41, 42). There is no need to draw sharp distinctions between the various terms since in context they all relate to a twelveyear old girl (v. 42) at the age of beginning puberty.39 However, in the mouth of Jairus as a father the use of τὸ θυγάτριόν μου “my little daughter” may well express parental emotion.40 The expression ἐσχάτως ἔχω means “to be at the last extremity” (LSJ 700; Montanari 831),41 and is condemned by the Atticists.42 A parallel can be found in Diodorus Siculus: “Pythagoras, learn34   Note the perceptive remark by Bratcher and Nida, Translator’s Handbook, 170: “In translating the expression fell at his feet one must make certain that the phrase in the receptor language does not mean – as it often has – stumbled and collapsed at Jesus’ feet” (their italics). 35   Légasse, Marc, 1:337. 36   Lüderitz, “Rhetorik,” 180 (“Klangwirkung”). He instances Mark 4:37; 13:17, and 16:8 as other examples (176). On the rhetorical device of onomatopoeia in general, see Rhet. Her. 4.31.42 (ed. Nüßlein 256–259); Quintilian, Inst. 8.6.31–33 (Russell, LCL 126:442–445). Here in Mark it is not the creation of a word, but the creation of a sound-effect. 37   On the use of παρακαλῶ in petitions and requests in Graeco-Roman culture, see further Gregory H.R. Horsley, “Petitions, Social History and the Language of Requests,” NewDocs 6 (1992): 140–146 (no. 18), notably with reference to written petitions. See also the references and bibliography in LEH 463–464. 38  So Guelich, Mark, 290. Cf. Trocmé, Marc: “le supplie énormément” (148), “une supplique très insistante” (149). Different: Légasse, Marc, 1: 333: “le supplie instamment.” 39   On the average age of marriage in Jewish, Roman and Christian sources, see Gregory H.R. Horsley, “A Jewish Family from Egypt in Rome,” NewDocs 4 (1987): 221–229 (no. 114). See further also our comments below on Luke 8:42. 40  Also Gundry, Mark, 1:267, 279. 41  Cf. Josephus, Ant 9.179 (Marcus, LCL 326:94): (Elisha) ἐν ἐσχάτοις ὄντα. nlb translates “liegt in den letzten Zügen.” 42  At least, this is what some of the older dictionaries say, so Joseph Henry Thayer, A

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ing that his old teacher Pherecydes lay ill in Delos and was at the point of death (νοσεῖν καὶ τελέως ἐσχάτως ἔχειν), set sail from Italy to Delos.”43 Both Diodorus himself and Polybius have (and seem to prefer) the alternate expression ἐσχάτως διακεῖσθαι.44 The elliptical usage of ἵνα is also attested in Greek literature (LSJ 830). Swete suggests that Mark’s “broken construction reflects the anxiety of the speaker.”45 Gundry, in a similar vein, comments that “[t]he abruptness of the construction ἵνα ἐλθών … heightens the sense of urgency.”46 The imperatival aspect47 of ἵνα ἐλθών is best brought out by translating “come and…” (unless ἵνα should be taken with παρακαλέω or with an implied θέλω).48 The expression ἐπιτίθημι τὰς χεῖρας (sc. αὐτοῦ) Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament, Being Grimm’s Wilke’s Clavis Novi Testamenti Translated, Revised and Enlarged (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, [1885, 21889], n.d.), 254 [Carl Ludwig Wilibald Grimm, Lexicon Graeco-Latinum in libros Novi Testamenti (Leipzig: Zehl, 1867, 41903), 177: “Phrasis ab Atticistis improbatur”]. See especially Johann Friedrich Fischer, Prolusiones de vitiis lexicorum Novi Testamenti separatim antea nunc coniunctim editae multis partibus auctae multisque in locis emendatae (Leipzig: Caspar Fritsch, 1791), 704–705: “Neque vero formula ἐσχάτως ἔχειν, quae in euangelio Marci de puella ita aegrotante legitur, ut animan ageret, et morti proxima esset, atque adeo formulis Latinorum in ultimis esse, in extremis esse, respondet, originem suam alii dialecto, quam Macedonicae, debere videtur. Namque in Atticorum scriptis nunc quidem, quod sciam, nusquam offenditur: et loci auctorum, quos, ut alii, ita maxime interpretes Noui Testamenti, attulere, ut affererent isti formulae munditiam, quam ipsi abiudicatam esse a Phrynicho, eoque auctore, etiam ab Thoma Magistro, vidissent, partim alieni sunt, quum grammaticorum doctrina, non aduerbiorum θανασίμως, ἐπιθανατίως, ὀλεθρίως, aliorumque, sed aduerbii ἐσχάτως, elegantiam hoc in genere oppugnauerit, partim ex eisumodi scriptorum libris sumti, quorum stylus ab integritate orationis Atticae ita desciuerit, ut gravitatem praeceptionis Phrynicheae nullo modo labefactare, immo magis etiam confirmare, intellegatur.” Cf. Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 58. Cf. Darrell L. Bock, Luke. Volume 1: 1:1–9:50, 2 vols. BECNT 3A (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 1994), 793 (+ n.14): “a slang expression.” 43   Diodorus Siculus, Bibl. hist. 9.3.4 (Oldfather, LCL 375:54–55). Cf. also Artemidorus, Onir. 3.60 (ἐσχάτως ἔχειν) (Pack, BSGRT, 230). 44  See Didorus Siculus, Bibl. hist. 18.48: “Antipater, who was already at the point of death (ἐσχάτως ἤδη διακείμενος)” (Geer, LCL 377:144–145); 21.16.5: “Then, when the king was already at the point of death (διακείμενον ἐσχάτως ἤδη), Oxythemis … placed him on the pyre” (Walton, LCL 409:28–29); 24.12.3: “For when he [Hamilcar] was at the point of death (ἐσχάτως γὰρ αὐτοῦ διακειμένου)” (Walton, LCL 409:140–141). Polybius, Hist. 1.24.2: “On this occasion they put in on the coast of Sicily, raised the siege of Segesta which was in the last stage of distress (ἐσχάτως αὐτῶν ἤδη διακειμένων)” (Paton, Walbank, and Habicht, LCL 128:70–71). Collins, Mark, 279, refers to an inscription from the island of Cos dating to about 200 BCE, with a slightly different expression. 45   Swete, Mark, 102. 46   Gundry, Mark, 1:267–268. Also Trocmé, Marc, 149: “On notera la forme très proche du style parlé” in Jairus’s words. 47   Blass-Debrunner 387.3a; Max Zerwick, Biblical Greek Illustrated by Examples: English Edition Adapted from the Fourth Latin Edition by Joseph Smith, SPIB 114 (Rome: Biblical Institute Press, 1963, 82005), 141–142 (§ 415); Moule, Idiom-Book, 144. 48  Cf. hsv “ik smeek U dat U komt” (italics original).

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τινι is a technical term for the “laying on of hands,” in the gospels often in connection with healing (Mark 6:5; 7:32; 8:23, 25; [16:18]).49 The hopedfor result (ἵνα) of Jesus’s laying on his hands on the girl is “that she may be healed (of her disease) and (continue to) live (or: that her life may be spared; NSS 1:243 ‘am Leben bleiben’),” or “that she may be saved (from death) and live.”50 Since Mark might have used ἰάομαι “heal, cure; restore” or θεραπεύω “heal, cure; serve,” Gundry suggests that the construction “be saved and live” carries “overtones of a larger salvation that includes eternal life.”51 According to Rochais, the expression is not to be understood as a hendiadys, “car chacun des deux verbes comporte une nuance propre: la fillete doit être sauvée de la mort imminente et poursuivre une vie qui n’en est qu’à sa début.”52 To avoid undue connotations in the receptor language – in Kekchi (Mayan) language, e.g., “will live” means “will be born” – Bratcher and Nida suggest that the future ζήσῃ (“so that she may … live”) may sometimes be better rendered as “so that she may … not die.”53 [24] καὶ ἀπῆλθεν μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ. καὶ ἠκολούθει αὐτῷ ὄχλος πολὺς καὶ συνέθλιβον αὐτόν. – The copulative καί introduces the resulting action of Jesus to Jairus’s request: “So (καί) he (Jesus) went off with him (Jairus).”54 Ἀπέρχομαι, “go away, depart,” describes the departure as a movement away from the place where the action started. As in v. 21, Jesus is being accompanied by “a large crowd” (ὄχλος πολύς). Different from 2:14 and 8:34, there 49   Cf. also in the context of healing [in addition to the LXX, see the references in W.D. Davies and Dale C. Allison, The Gospel according to Saint Matthew: Commentary on Matthew 8–18, ICC (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1991), 126]: 1Qap Genar 20:28–29: “I prayed that [he might be] cured and laid my hands upon his [hea]d (‫( ”)וסמכת ידי על ]ראי[שה‬DSSSE 1:42–43). The parallel is noted by Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Genesis Apocryphon of Qumran Cave 1: A Commentary, BibOr 18 (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1966), 140, observing that this is the first instance of the Jewish rite of laying on of hands and, different from the NT, accompanied by prayer (also Marcus, Mark, 1:356). bgt translates “leg uw handen op haar hoofd” (not so in Matt 9:18). 50   Zerwick, Biblical Greek, 81–83 (§ 250), takes ζῆσαι as an “inceptive aorist,” used with verbs which “commonly (but not necessarily) indicate the inception of a state,” and “may demand a difference in the translation,” hence (in this particular case) “return to life from death.” Marcus, Mark, 1:357, translates “start to live again,” taking (with Rochais) the aorist as inceptive, because “she has her whole life in front of her.” 51   Gundry, Mark, 1:268. Cf. hsv “zodat zij behouden wordt en zal leven.” On the meaning of θεραπεύω, see David E. Aune, “Lexical Glosses and Definitions of Θεραπεύω,” in New Testament Greek and Exegesis: Essays in Honor of Gerald F. Hawthorne, ed. Amy M. Donaldson and Timothy B. Sailors (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 11–22. 52   Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 59, followed by Marcus, Mark, 1:357; Focant, Marc, 208. Cf. also Bratcher and Nida, Translator’s Handbook, 170: “The two verbs represent two ideas, both of which should be expressed.” Different: Van Leeuwen, Markus, 92: σωθῇ καὶ ζήσῃ, “min of meer pleonastisch,” a hendiadys. 53   Bratcher and Nida, Translator’s Handbook, 170; my italics. 54  Cf. Marcus, Mark, 1:366: “Jesus signifies his acquiescence to Jairus’ request by going with him.”

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seems to be no special connotation in the use of the verb ἀκολουθέω: it simply means here “to follow or accompany someone who takes the lead, accompany, go along with,” not “to follow someone as a disciple, be a disciple, follow” as elsewhere in the gospels (BDAG 36–37; cf. Bauer 60 “hinterhergehen, nachkommen”). That ὄχλος πολύς is anarthrous – although the reference clearly is to the same ὄχλος πολύς as in v. 21, that is, materially it is more or less the same group – seems to confirm the idea that the “large crowd” functions here as a topos. “The lack of [the] article puts emphasis on the large crowd as such, i.e. on their numerousness.”55 The negative role of the crowd implied in v. 21 is now made explicit: συνέθλιβον αὐτόν “they (constructio ad sensum) pressed in on him.” The verb συνθλίβω (also in v. 31) means “to crowd around so as to leave little room for movement, press together, press upon” (BDAG 972; Bauer 1575 “zusammendrücken, drängen,” with reference to parallel constructions in Appian and Josephus; LSJ 1717). Cf. θλίβω “to press or crowd close against, press upon, crowd”) in Mark 3:9 (cf. Appian ἐπιθλίβω, BDAG 457; Bauer 735). 2. Translation Matters in Mark 5:25–34 [25] Καὶ γυνὴ οὖσα ἐν ῥύσει αἵματος δώδεκα ἔτη – The conjunction καί introduces again (v. 22) a new action that interrupts the story: “Now there was a woman…” (nkj, net, njb, nrsv; cf. fbj, lsg, neg: “Or, …”).56 Some translations tie the two stories together by making the woman part of the accompanying crowd of v. 24: “In the crowd was a woman…” (gwn), “Among them was…” (cjb); cjb and nbv employ a constructio ad sensum.57 The main clause of this for Mark’s Gospel somewhat complex sentence is γυνή … ἥψατο τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ “a woman … touched his (i.e. Jesus’s) cloak,” the main verb (ἥψατο) placed climactically at the end.58 The woman is identified by no less than seven participle phrases (οὖσα, παθοῦσα, δαπανήσασα, ὠφεληθεῖσα, ἐλθοῦσα, ἀκούσασα, ἐλθοῦσα). For ῥύσις αἵματος “a flow(ing) of blood,” see Lev 15:25 (LEH 545). The ἐν indicates accompaniment, attendant circumstances.59 It is perhaps a medical term [see the references in BDAG 908; Bauer 1478; LSJ 1577 (“used for γονόρροια”); Montanari 1886 (and 439 s.v. γονόρροια)], referring here to a haemorrhage, probably a vaginal bleeding.60   Gundry, Mark, 1:268.  Cf. Bratcher and Nida, Translator’s Handbook, 172: “[I]n order to introduce this woman it is often necessary to ‘locate’ her with respect to the actual context, i.e. ‘a woman was there who…’” 57  “Onder hen was ook…” (nbv; implied also in gnb: “Er was een vrouw bij die…”); bgt has “Tussen de mensen liep ook een vrouw die…” 58  Cf. Marcus, Mark, 1:367. 59   Moule, Idiom-Book, 78. 60   English translations of ῥύσις αἵματος include “an issue of blood” (asv, dra, erv, gnv, kjv, pnt, rwb, tnt “an yssue of bloude,” web, ylt), “a fountain of blood” (nkj), “a flow of blood” 55

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Based on a text from Soranus of Ephesus (second century CE), in which a distinction is made between “haemorrhage, which was sudden and dangerous, and various female ‘fluxes’ or discharges,” Collins, Mark, 279, suggests that ῥύσις αἵματος should not be translated as “haemorrhage” but as “flow of blood.” According to Marla Selvidge, Greek physicians and writers never employ the two terms used by Mark. The terminology rather draws from the LXX version of Leviticus.61 The present participle οὖσα is often translated as a pluperfect (“the woman had had a haemorrhage for twelve years,” bbe , cjb, dby, esv, nasb, nau, rsv; hsv), adapting the clause to the narrative framework. ein and a number of Dutch translations add “already” to stress the continuing state of the woman’s illness when she approached Jesus (“eine Frau, die schon zwölf Jahre an Blutungen litt”; also gnb, kbs, nbv, wv; hsv: “al”). Conform Dutch and German grammar, Dutch and German translations place the temporal accusative δώδεκα ἔτη before the circumstantial prepositional phrase ἐν ῥύσει αἵματος, so e.g. nbv “een vrouw die al twaalf jaren aan bloedvloeingen leed” (also hsv; ein, elb, elo, hrd, sch. Exceptionally also in nlt: “A woman in the crowd had suffered for twelve years with constant bleeding”). Bratcher and Nida emphasize “that it is not to be inferred that the woman had had an unchecked hemorrhage lasting twelve years: what is said is that she suffered from hemorrhages during these twelve years without being cured.”62 According to the purity regulations of Lev 15:25–30, the woman herself was ceremonially unclean “all the days of her discharge” and when it had stopped was subject to immersion, seven days after which she was clean and had to bring two turtledoves to the priest for a sin offering and a burnt offering on the eighth day (vv. 28–30). In the Mishnah tractate Zabim the conditions are specified in quite some detail.63 If we are to believe Pliny the Elder, Roman readers would be appalled by (bbe, nkj, rsv), “a hemorrhage” (cjb, nasb, nau, net, njb), “hemorrhages” (nab, nrsv), “bleeding” (hcsb, niv), “a flux of blood” (dby), “a discharge of blood” (esv), “chronic bleeding” (gwn), “constant bleeding” (nlt). Cf. George B. Caird, The Gospel of St Luke, PNTC (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1963), 124: “She had an illness (menorrhagia – a continuous menstruation) which was probably psychological in origin, but none the less distressing and debilitating in its effects.” 61  Marla J. Selvidge, “Mark 5:25–34 and Leviticus 14:19–20: A Reaction to Restrictive Purity Regulations,” JBL 103 (1984): 619–623; idem, Woman, Cult, and Miracle Recital, 47–51 (arguing that Mark 5:24–34 preserves a tradition of dissension to the Levitical purity legislation); Marcus, Mark, 1:357–358 (discussing the Mishnaic concepts of niddâ and zābbâ and the respective quarantine regulations). 62   Bratcher and Nida, Translator’s Handbook, 171. NSS 1:243 takes it as an “Akk. der zeitl. Ausdehung,” to be translated as “zwölf Jahre lang, seit zwölf Jahren.” bgt adds a notion of increasing pain: “maar de pijn was alleen maar erger geworden.” 63   m. Zabim (“They that suffer a flux”), trans. Herbert Danby, The Mishnah: Translated from the Hebrew with Introduction and Brief Explanatory Notes (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1933), 767–773. See also “Appendix IV: The Rules of Uncleanness,” in Danby, Mishnah, 800–804.

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the mere thought of the female bleeding (Pliny the Elder, Nat. 7.15.64–67; Rackham, LCL 352:548–549). For a wider discussion of the implications, see below Chapter 6 (Story and Narrative), and the literature cited there. [26] καὶ πολλὰ παθοῦσα ὑπὸ πολλῶν ἰατρῶν καὶ δαπανήσασα τὰ παρ᾽ αὐτῆς πάντα καὶ μηδὲν ὠφεληθεῖσα ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον εἰς τὸ χεῖρον ἐλθοῦσα, – As in vv. 22–23, there is an alliterative piling up of words with π-, perhaps to dramatize the strokes given by the medical doctors ( bgt “die dokters”).64 The phrase πολλὰ παθοῦσα ὑπὸ πολλῶν ἰατρῶν can be translated in two different ways: “she suffered much while she was treated by many doctors,” or “many doctors who treated her caused her to suffer much.”65 The word ἰατρός means “one who causes someone to be healed, physician, doctor, healer” (L&N 1:269); “one who undertakes the cure of physical ailments, physician” (BDAG 465; Bauer 750; LEH 283; LSJ 816; Montanari 962). On the position of medical doctors in the Graeco-Roman world, see NewDocs 2 (1982): 10–25, and for rabbinic parallels, see Marcus, Mark, 1:358. Privileges were granted to doctors in the Roman Empire, such as exemption from public taxes and liturgy, citizenship and more, which, understandably, also attracted many malpractitioners who put the profession in a bad light. There is an obvious irony in the description of the doctors since they were supposed to alleviate the woman’s condition, not make it worse.66 The (bad) reputation of medical doctors in antiquity is proverbial.67 To give only one example, see Petronius, Sat. 42 (Heseltine, Rouse, and Warmington, LCL 15:80–81): “medicus enim nihil aliud est quam animi consolatio” (“a doctor is nothing but a sop to conscience”). It is also found in Jewish sources: “(king Asa’s) disease became severe; yet even in his disease he did not seek the Lord, but he sought help from physicians” (2 Chr 16:12); “I [= Tobit] went to the physicians to be healed, but the more they treated me with ointments the more my vision was obscured by the white films, until I became completely blind” (Tob 2:10); “all of you are worthless physicians” (Job 13:4); “A long illness baffles the physician; the king of today will die tomorrow” (Sir 10:10); “Honor physicians for their services, for the Lord created them” (Sir 38:1); “He who sins against his Maker, will be defiant toward the physician” (Sir 38:15).68 See further 1QapGen ar 20:20; Philo, Sacr. 64  Cf. Lüderitz, “Rhetorik,” 179: “Die lange Aufzählung der Leiden und Heilungsversuche wird konstrastiert durch die antithetische, parallel gebaute Zusammenfassung am Ende, die formal durch die Anklänge am Anfang der beiden Kola (καὶ μηδὲν – ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον) und das Homoioteleuton (-σα) zusammengehalten wird.” 65   Bratcher and Nida, Translator’s Handbook, 172. Cf. hsv “veel geleden… door toedoen van veel dokters.” 66  See Collins, Mark, 281, for examples of incompetency of medical professionals in antiquity. She reads Mark’s comment as an indictment of the medical profession of the time. 67   Légasse, Marc, 1:340–341: “La satire est classique”. See also Wendy Cotter, Miracles in Graeco-Roman Antiquity, 201-205. 68   For an instructive commentary on Sir 38:1–15 (concerning physicians and sickness), see Patrick W. Shekan and Alexander A. Di Lella, The Wisdom of Ben Sirah: A New Translation with Notes by Patrick W. Shekan, Introduction, and Commentary by Alexander A. Di Lella, AB 39 (New York: Doubleday, 1987), 438–443.

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70–71 (Colson, LCL 227:146–149); m. Qidd. 4:14. However, in Jewish tradition there is also a more positive assessment of the medical profession. Thus, e.g., Sir 38:1–2: “Honor physicians for their services, for the Lord created them, for their gift of healing comes from the Most High” (nrsv), T. Job 38:8: “My healing and my treatment are from the Lord, who also created the physicians” (trans. R.P. Spittler, in OTP 1:858).69

With τὰ παρ᾽ αὐτῆς lit, “the things from her,” i.e. “her belongings, her possessions,” cf. τὰ παρ᾽ αὐτῶν in Luke 10:17 and Phil 4:18.70 The expression εἰς τὸ χεῖρον (comp. of κακός) ἔρχομαι means “to become worse, more severe” (BDAG 1083; Bauer 1757; cf. LSJ 1986; Montanari 2352).71 [27] ἀκούσασα περὶ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ, ἐλθοῦσα ἐν τῷ ὄχλῳ ὄπισθεν ἥψατο τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ· – Although ἀκούω normally goes with an object (see e.g. Luke 9:9: τίς δέ έστιν οὗτος περὶ οὗ ἀκούω τοιαῦτα; 16:2: τί τούτο ἀκούω πὲρι σοῦ;), this need not necessarily be so, as can be seen in Luke 7:3 ἀκούσας δὲ περὶ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ, and Josephus, Vita 246 §48 (Thackeray, LCL 186:92: ἀκούσαντες … πέρι τῆς ἐμῆς ἀφίξεως) (cf. BDAG 38). nlb translates ἀκούσασα as a causal participle, “Da sie von Jesus gehört hatte.” 72 The verb ἔρχομαι is used (BDAG 393) (1) “of movement from one point to another, with focus on approach from the narrator’s perspective, come.” The presupposition ἐν (“among/in the crowd”) serves as a (1) “marker of position defined as being in a location” (BDAG 326–327, with reference to the present text).73 Does the crowd here function as a cover up or as a medium of transportation? The verb ἥψατο (from ἅπτω, here in the meaning of “touch, take hold of, hold”) is often used in the context of conveying a (divine) blessing, esp. to bring about a healing (BDAG 126, including further references).74   So also Légasse, Marc, 1:341.  Cf. Moule, Idiom-Book, 51–52: “having spent all that she had (lit. the things from beside her, with a suggestion, perhaps, of emphasis on the disastrous movement away of all her small savings)” (italics original). 71   nlb: “es war nur schlimmer geworden.” 72   Marcus, Mark, 1:358, suggests there may be a subtle contrast between the woman hearing from Jesus and Jairus seeing him: this “may reflect her ostracism from society because of her ritual impurity.” 73  Cf. Légasse, Marc, 1:341 n.44: “Le texte porte elthousa en tôi ochlôi, non eis ton ochlon: la femme, dans la foule, vient vers Jésus.” 74   But see the reservations of Pieter J. Lalleman, “Healing by a Mere Touch as a Christian Concept,” TynBul 48 (1998): 355–361. In response to Lalleman, it can be questioned whether it is it legitimate to ignore the broader semantic field of “touching.” Already in the NT we have, in addition to ἅπτω, θιγγάνω “touch” (BDAG 456), προσψαύω “to reach out to touch, touch” (BDAG 887), and ψηλαφάω “to touch by feeling and handling, touch, handle” (BDAG 1097– 1098). In the case of the haemorrhaging woman it is not the healer but the person to be healed who does the touching. If the scope is somewhat broadened, it seems safer to conclude that healing by a mere touch is at most a predominantly Christian concept. See further such examples as Homer, Iliad 5.416–419 (A.T. Murray and William F. Wyatt; LCL 170:236–237): Ἦ ῥα, καὶ ἀμφοτέρῃσιν ἀπ᾿ ἰχῶ χειρὸς ὀμόργνυ· ἄλθετο χείρ, ὀδύναι δὲ κατηπιόωντο βαρεῖαι. “She (= the godess Dione) spoke, and with both her hands wiped the ichor from the arm (= of Aphrodite); 69 70

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The word ἱμάτιον, “cloak, robe,” is used of outer clothing, in contrast with χιτών, the undergarment (BDAG 475; Bauer 764; LSJ 829; Montanari 976).75 Here it is used in the singular, in v. 28 in the plural, even though it is the cloak of one person only. Possibly, we are to think here of the Jewish ‫( טלית‬outer garment, perhaps prayer mantle).76 An interesting but distant parallel can be found in the Bavli tractate Ta‘an. 23b: “Hanan the Retiring was the son of the daughter of Honi the Circle-Drawer. When the world needed rain, rabbis would send to him kindergarten children, and they would take hold of the hem of his garment (‫ )ונקטי ליה בשיפולי גלימיה‬and say to him, Father, father, give us rain!” 77 Here taking hold of the hem of the miracle-worker’s garment seems to function as a respectful attention drawer, with no magical connotations.78 [28] ἔλεγεν γὰρ ὅτι ἐὰν ἅψωμαι κἂν τῶν ἱματίων αὐτοῦ σωθήσομαι. – The conjunction γάρ explains the rationale behind the woman’s touch, “for she said” or (as a pluperfect) “for she had said.” 79 According to Rodney the arm was restored, and the grievous pains assuaged,” Solon 13.1.61–62 (D.E. Gerber, LCL 258:132–133): “Often agony results from a slight pain and no one can provide relief by giving soothing drugs, whereas another, in the throes of a terrible and grievous disease, he quickly restores to health with the touch of his hands (τὸν δὲ κακαῖς νούσοισι κυκώμενον ἀργαλέαις τε ἁψάμενος χειροῖν αἶψα τίθησ᾿ ὑγιῆ) [a text of which Lalleman says that it “is too early (6th century BCE) to be relevant for the period under consideration,” “Healing by Mere Touch,” 360 n.18], and Athenaeus, Deipn. 5.212 (Olson, LCL 208:518–519) (the touching of the clothes of the healer): “everyone was eager simply to touch his clothing (ἑκάστου σπεύδοντος κἂν προσάψασθαι τῆς ἐσθῆτος).” See further Louise Wells, The Greek Language of Healing from Homer to New Testament Times, BZNW 83 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1998), 28: “Asklepios seemed to have healed with his fingers and by touch”; Bronwen L. Wickkiser, Asklepios, Medicine, and the Politics of Healing in Fifth-Century Greece: Between Craft and Cult (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008), cf. the index on “touch.” 75   bgt “ze raakte zijn jas aan.” 76  Jacob Levy, Chaldäisches Wörterbuch über die Targumim und einen grossen Theil des rabbinischen Schriftthums, 2 vols. (Leipzig: Baumgärtner, [1867–1868] 31881), 1:304; Jastrow, Dictionary, 537; Michael Sokoloff, A Dictionary of Jewish Palestinian Aramaic of the Byzantine Period, DTMT 2 (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press; Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1990, 22002), 225b. See on this further Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction. On Jewish dress code and clothing customs in the first century, see Alfred Edersheim, The Life and Times of Jesus the Messiah, 2 vols. (New York: Longmans, Green, 1883, 31927), 1:620–626; Douglas R. Edwards, “Dress and Ornamentation,” ABD 2 (1992): 232–238, and the literature cited there. For literature on the ‫( ציצת‬the prescribed tassels on the four corners of the outer garment) in particular, see below under Matt 9:20. 77   b. Ta‘an. 23b, translation quoted from Bruce D. Chilton, Comparative Handbook, 1:223 (also found in Str-B 1:520). 78   A more distant parallel is mentioned by Collins, Mark, 282 (the Roman general Sulla touched secretly by a woman who wished to have a share in his good luck). Incidentally, if the reading of Codex Bezae in v. 23 (ἐλθέ ἅψαι αὐτῆς κτλ.) is original, there is one more keyword connection (ἅπτω) in this pericope. See Chapter 3: Structure and Form, and Appendix 1: Text and Transmission, under Mark 5:23. 79  Cf. Trocmé, Marc, 150: “En effet, elle disait…”

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Decker, the imperfect used here has the function to provide offline information that does not advance the storyline in the narrative but explains what just has been said.80 Wallace takes ἔλεγεν as an iterative imperfect: “The picture painted seems to be of a desperate woman who repeats over and over again, ‘If I only touch his garment,’ attempting to muster up enough courage for the act.” 81 Some translations take it as an internal dialogue, “for she said to herself ” (nlt) or “for she thought” (tnt, nas, nau, niv, nib; lei, kbs, wv, nbv “want ze dacht”; kbs, gnb “want ze zei bij zichzelf”). Ἐὰν ἅψωμαι (mid. fut.) denotes “what is expected to occur under certain circumstances, from a given standpoint in the present” (BDAG 167). Κἂν (crasis from καί ἐάν) means “(even) if only, at least” (cf. Mark 6:56). BDAG translates “just his clothes” (507; Bauer 817 “wenigstens die Kleider”). Two different translations seem possible: “If I only touch his garments” (emphasizing the subtlety of the touch) or “if I touch only his garments” (emphasizing the object), the latter suggested by Robert Gundry with reference to Robertson, Grammar, 208.82 [29] καὶ εὐθὺς ἐξηράνθη ἡ πηγὴ τοῦ αἵματος αὐτῆς καὶ ἔγνω τῷ σώματι ὅτι ἴαται ἀπὸ τῆς μάστιγος. – The adverb εὐθύς “immediately, at once” here signals an unexpected result.83 The verb ξηραίνω means “to stop a flow (such as sap or other liquid) in someth. and so cause dryness, to dry, to dry up” (BDAG 684, translating this verse “her hemorrhage stopped at once”). The noun πηγή means “a source of someth. that gushes out or flows, spring, fountain, flow” (BDAG 810; Bauer 1320; LSJ 1399; Montanari 1658), ordinarily used of water, but here of blood.84 See also Alexander Aphrodisiensis (ca. 200 CE), Scripta Minora: De Anima (p. 40, 2) ed. Bruns: πηγὴ τοῦ αἵματος (BDAG 810; Bauer 1320). Marla Selvidge observes that “Mark’s characterization of her healing seems to stem from an agricultural type of existence, or at least a culture that used earthly euphemisms and other metaphors to describe physical illness.” 85 C.H. Turner has argued that εἰδέναι, γινώσκειν and ἐπιγινώσκειν in Mark are employed in a substantially identical sense: “Our versions make the distinction of ‘felt’ and ‘knowing’: but I do not think there is any justification for this, beyond perhaps the consideration that γινώσκω may tend to be used where the sphere of knowl J. Rodney Decker, “The Function of the Imperfect Tense in Mark’s Gospel,” in The Language of the New Testament: Context, History, and Development, ed. Stanley E. Porter and Andrew W. Pitts, LingBS 6 (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 356. 81   Daniel B. Wallace, Greek Grammar beyond the Basics: An Exegetical Syntax of the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1996), 547. Also net “for she kept saying.” 82   Gundry, Mark, 1:269. Cf. Légasse, Marc, 1:333: “Si je touche ne serait-ce que ces vêtements…” 83  Cf. bgt “En inderdaad, het bloeden stopte meteen.” 84   Bratcher and Nida, Translator’s Handbook, 172, refer to a translator who had employed the translation “fountain of blood,” “which people assumed was a miraculous source of blood which the woman had, apparently in her courtyard or somewhere on her property.” 85   Selvidge, Woman, Cult, and Miracle Recital, 92. 80

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edge, σώματι or πνεύματι, is expressed.” 86 The dative of respect τῷ σώματι suggests “elle comprit physiquement qu’elle était guérie.” 87 The perfect indicative ἴαται denotes that the woman was healed for good: “she had been healed,” hence she was healthy.88 Against Bratcher and Nida, there is no indication in the context that the passive ἴαται implies that she was healed by Jesus.89 More likely – if indeed we may press the wording – the passive indicates that she was healed by God.90 Μάστιξ (cf. also 3:10) refers here to “a condition of great distress, torment, suffering” [BDAG 620–621; Bauer 1003 “d. Plage, d. (körperl.) Leiden”; LSJ 1083; Montanari 1285].91 [30] καὶ εὐθὺς ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἐπιγνοὺς ἐν ἑαυτῷ τὴν ἐξ αὐτοῦ δύναμιν ἐξελ­ θοῦ­σαν ἐπιστραθεὶς ἐν τῷ ὄχλῳ ἔλεγεν· τίς μου ἥψατο τῶν ἱματίων; – The use of ἐπιγινώσκω, “notice, perceive, learn of, ascertain,” rather than γινώσκω, “learn (of), ascertain, find out,” as in the previous verse seems to be for stylistic reasons only, with no significant difference in meaning (cf. Luke 8:46). The noun δύναμις means “potential for functioning in some way, power, might, strength, force, capability, … specif. the power that works wonders,” τὴν ἐξ αὐτοῦ δύναμιν ἐξελθοῦσαν “potency emanated from him” (BDAG 262; cf. Bauer 417). It is not clear why the article (τήν) is used before “power” (Vulg. “virtus”).92 The immediate effect and the impersonal character of the power make sense in what John Hull calls “the framework of a magical universe.” 93 He observes that the magical dimension is more prominently present in the Gospel of Luke (and the Acts of the Apostles) than it is in Mark.94 The imperfect indicative ἔλεγεν is, in the words of Daniel Wallace, an “instantaneous imperfect (a.k.a. aoristic or punctiliar imperfect),” to indicate the simple past just like an aorist indicative.95 On the use of ἔλεγεν in this verse, he comments: “There is evident emotion in this question. The imperfect is often the tense of choice to introduce such vivid sayings. In this respect, it parallels the historic (dramatic) present. Further, one is hard-pressed to account for the imperfect on the ba C.H. Turner in Elliott, ed., Language and Style of Mark, 102,   Trocmé, Marc, 150 (my italics). 88   Gundry, Mark, 1:270. 89   Bratcher and Nida, Translator’s Handbook, 173. 90  Usually called a divine passive, an obvious misnomer, see Peter-Ben Smit and Toon Renssen, “The passivum divinum: The Rise and Future Fall of an Imaginary Linguistic Phenomenon,” FNT 27 (2014): 3–24. 91   ἀπὸ τῆς μάστιγος “de (son) infirmité” (Légasse, Marc, 1:333), “de son infirmité” (Trocmé, Marc, 150); “from her scourge” (Marcus, Mark, 1:355, 357). 92  Cf. Zerwick, Biblical Greek, 89–90 (§ 268) on the use of the aorist participle. 93   John M. Hull, Hellenistic Magic and the Synoptic Tradition, SBT II/28 (London: SCM, 1974), 86. 94   Hull, Hellenistic Magic, 106–107. 95   Wallace, Greek Grammar, 542, observing that this usage is virtually restricted to ἔλεγεν and adducing illustrations from Matt 9:24 (!); Mark 4:9; 5:30 (!); 8:24; Luke 23:42; John 5:19. 86 87

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sis of intrinsic aspectual force (unless it is iterative), for the context argues for a staccato-like effect.” 96 [31] καὶ ἔλεγον αὐτῷ οἱ μαθηταὶ αὐτοῦ· βλέπεις τὸν ὄχλον συνθλίβοντά σε καὶ λέγεις· τίς μου ἥψατο; – The disciples answer with a rhetorical question (ἐπερώτησις),97 expressing their surprise at this seemingly strange question. For συνθλίβω, see the comments in v. 24. [32] καὶ περιεβλέπετο ἰδεῖν τὴν τοῦτο ποιήσασαν. – While most translations take καί as a simple coordinating conjunction (“and”), some take it as an adversative (“but”), thereby creating an opposition between the words of the disciples and the action of Jesus. cjb translates “so” but this makes little or no sense in the immediate context and requires a complex jump of thought. The verb περιβλέπω means “to glance at or look around in various directions, look around (at)” (BDAG 799, suggesting the translation “he looked around to see” or “he kept looking around to see”; cf. Bauer 1302 “er blickte sich um, um zu sehen”; cf. LEH 482; LSJ 1369; Montanari 1620). The use of the aorist participle feminine construction τὴν … ποιήσασαν suggests that Jesus (at least in the author’s opinion) was searching for a woman (Vulg. “videre eam quae hoc fecerat”; nlb).98 Some translations make this more explicit by specifying the subject: “the woman who had done this” (nasb, nau, gwn; iep “la donna”; lba “la mujer”; kbs, wv “de vrouw”; hsv “om haar te zien die dat gedaan had”). A number of versions leave the gender of the person looked after open: “he looked around to see who had done this” (nrsv).99 The imperfect tense of περιεβλέπετο may express a continuous (durative) process, “he was looking around” ( ylt, hcsb), or, if a prior looking around may be implied from the context, “he kept looking around” (niv, cjb, gwn, nlt, njb “he continued to look all round”).   Wallace, Greek Grammar, 542, italics original.   See R. Dean Anderson, Glossary of Greek Rhetorical Terms Connected to Methods of Argumen­tation, Figures and Tropes from Anaximenes to Quintilian, CBET 24 (Leuven: Peeters, 2000), 51–52. 98   Gundry, Mark, 1:271: “Since Mark knows that the person who has touched Jesus is a woman, the substantive participle naturally goes into the feminine gender … But since Mark pays special attention to Jesus’ supernatural knowledge throughout the passage, the feminine gender may indicate that Jesus also knows the sex of the healed person.” Also Marcus, Mark, 1:359. Different: Ezra P. Gould, The Gospel according to St Mark, ICC (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1896), 98: “This is anticipating the result of his search. Jesus was ignorant who had done it, and so of course, whether it was a man or a woman.” Cf. William L. Lane, The Gospel according to Mark, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974), 193 n.50 (narrator’s perspective). Cf. Bratcher and Nida, Translator’s Handbook, 175: “It is fanciful to suppose that from the touch Jesus sensed it was a woman (as does Bruce Expositor’s Greek Testament I, 375).” Cf. Légasse, Marc, 1:344: “Il suffit cependant d’admettre qu’ici le narrateur s’exprime de son point de vue et de celui du lecteur, tous deux au courant des faits précédemment racontés.” 99  Also niv, nrsv, cjb, esv, nab, net, njb, nlt; bfc; ein, hrd; luv, lei, nbg, gnb, kbs, nbv (“om te zien wie het gedaan had”), bgt; afr. So also NSS 1:244–245. 96

97

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[33] ἡ δὲ γυνὴ φοβηθεῖσα καὶ τρέμουσα, εἰδυῖα ὃ γέγονεν αὐτῇ, ἦλθεν καὶ προσέπεσεν αὐτῷ καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ πᾶσαν τὴν ἀλήθειαν. – The conjunction δέ may be left untranslated (tnt, nab; kbs, nbv, gnb). If any force may be given to it, a full adversative (so esv, kjv, rsv, nrsv) may be too strong in the context while a weaker “then” seems more appropriate (so nlt, niv; cf. Dutch “de vrouw nu” luv, nbg). As in vv. 25–27, the woman is qualified by a number of participles: φοβηθεῖσα, τρέμουσα, εἰδυῖα (Vulg. “timens et tremens, sciens…”). According to BDAG, the verb τρέμω means either “to shake involuntarily, tremble, quiver” or “to feel intensely the impact of someth. transcendent, tremble, be in awe,” with a slight preference for the former in the present context: “In these passages [Luke 8:47 and Mark 5:33] physical shaking is prob. the prim. semantic component, whereas in the following [i.e. the second meaning] there is a stronger focus on the psychological aspect” (BDAG 1014; not in Bauer 1645). Cf. also LSJ 1813; Montanari 2140 “to tremble with fear, be afraid.” The verb γίνομαι is used here with a dative of the person affected (BDAG 197–198): αὐτῇ (cf. Mark 5:16). Προσέπεσεν, indic. aor. act. 3 sg. from προσπίπτω, means “to prostrate oneself before someone, fall down before/at the feet of freq. in the gesture of a suppliant” (BDAG 884; cf. LEH 528; LSJ 1523; Montanari 1823). See also v. 22. πᾶσαν τὴν ἀλήθειαν “the whole truth” (trivialized by bgt “ze vertelde hem eerlijk [= honestly] wat er gebeurd was”). Joel Marcus notes that this is a technical judicial term at home in trial scenes.100 [34] ὁ δὲ εἶπεν αὐτῇ· θυγάτηρ, ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε· ὕπαγε εἰς εἰρήνην καὶ ἴσθι ὑγιὴς ἀπὸ τῆς μάστιγός σου. – The verse starts with an adversative δέ, “But he said to her,” contrasting Jesus’s words with those of the woman. The nominative θυγάτηρ functions as a vocative, (ὦ) θύγατηρ (so Matt 9:22), see Blass-Debrunner 147 and BDAG 460; Bauer 741. θυγάτηρ is a term of endearment.101 nbv leaves θυγάτηρ untranslated, perhaps to avoid theological over-interpretation, unfortunately, however, with the result that the keyword connection with v. 35 is broken and the special status of the woman as θυγάτηρ is no longer explicit. Intended or not, the net result is an anti-woman translation. While the Greek leaves open whose daughter the woman is (most English versions simply translate “daughter”), some, beginning with the Syriac translations, interpret the filial relation expressed in θυγάτηρ with explicit reference to Jesus, “my daughter” (‫)ܒܪܬܝ‬.102 In context, 100   Marcus, Mark, 1:360, with reference to Isocrates, Antid. 50; Plato, Apol. 17b, Lycurgus, Leocrates, 32 (cf. Josephus, B.J. 7.32). 101   Bratcher and Nida, Translator’s Handbook, 175. 102   George A. Kiraz, ed., Comparative Edition of the Syriac Gospels: Aligning the Sinaiticus, Curetonianus, Peshîṭtâ and Ḥarklean Versions, 4 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 1996), 2:63. So njb; drb, lsg, neg, tob, bfc, fbj; lb, luo, ein, lut, nlb; cab; luv, lei, kbs, wv). Also (in the interest of his psychoanalytical reading of the episode): Eugen Drewermann, Tiefenpsychologie und Exegese, 2 vols. (Olten: Walter, 1985), 2:293–294 (“meine Tochter”).

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πίστις (LSJ 1408; Montanari 1669) refers to a “state of believing on the basis of the reliability of the one trusted, trust, confidence, faith,” in the gospel healings used with reference to God and with reference to Christ (BDAG 818–819; Bauer 1333).103 The perfect tense σέσωκεν stresses the permanence of the cure (cf. v. 23).104 Pace Marcus and others, I fail to see a baptismal background of the formula of saving faith being used here.105 Note the repetition of the σ-sound in ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε.106 Quintilian, discussing the aesthetics of Greek compared to Latin, would probably have mixed feelings with the alliterative force of ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε (too harsh a sound). In comparing written and spoken Greek and Latin, he writes: “[Latin eloquence] is harsher in its actual sounds (‘est ipsis statim sonis durior’), because we lack the two most pleasing of the Greek letters [viz. υ and ζ, pronounced in his days as ü and z, not i and s], one vowel and one consonant, the sweetest sounds in their language. We borrow these when we use the Greek letters, and when this happens, the language at once seems to brighten up and smile, as in words like zephyrus and zopuros. If these words are written in our letters, they produce only a barbarous sound (‘surdum quiddam et barbarum efficient’).”107 James Kleist suggests that the generally unpleasant effect of repeated sigmas in Mark 5:34 “is neutralized by the graciousness of the message and the friendly tone of the Speaker” and that “the letter s can be used at will for pleasant as well as unpleasant effects.”108 Be that as it may, Kleist provides some interesting parallels to the current passage from Greek poets who deploy the σ-sound with a form of σώζω: Euripides, Med. 476–479, where Medea says: ἔσωσά σ᾿, ὡς ἴσασιν Ἑλλήνων ὅσοι | ταὐτὸν συνεισέβησαν Ἀργῷον σκάφος, | πεμφθέντα ταύρων πυρπνόων ἐπιστάτην | ζεύγλαισι καὶ σπεροῦντα θανάσιμον γύην·, “I shall begin my speech from the beginning. I saved your life – as witness all the Greeks who went on board the Argo with you – when you were sent to master the firebreathing bulls with a yoke and to sow the field of death” (Kovacs, LCL 12:324–325); Euripides, Iph. taur. 765: τὸ σῶμα σώσας τοὺς λόγους σώσεις ἐμοί, “by saving yourself you also will save my message for me” (Kovacs, LCL 10:228–229), and Aeschylus, Eum. 754: ὦ Παλλάς, ὦ σώσασα τοὺς ἐμοὺς δόμους, “O Pallas, O saviour of my house!” (Sommerstein, LCL 146:450–451).

As in v. 29, μάστιξ (lit. “a flexible instrument used for lashing, whip, lash”) is used here in its figure extension, “a condition of great distress, torment, suffering” (BDAG 620–621; Bauer 1003; cf. LEH 385; LSJ 1083; Montanari   On the wider ramifications of πίστις in the ancient world, including the New Testament, see Teresa Morgan, Roman Faith and Christian Faith: Pistis and Fides in the Early Roman Empire and Early Churches (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), and below, Chapter 6: Story and Narrative. 104  Cf. Bratcher and Nida, Translator’s Handbook, 176: “your disease will never come back to you.” Van Leeuwen, Markus, 95, translates ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε: “Uw geloof is uw behoud geweest,” emphasizing the act of faith prior to the touching. 105   Marcus, Mark, 1:360–361, 369. 106   Gundry, Mark, 1:271–272, with reference to J.A. Kleist (see below). 107    Quintilian, Inst. 12.10.27–32 (Russell, LCL 494:296–299). 108  James A. Kleist, The Gospel of Saint Mark Presented in Greek Thought-Units and Sense-Lines with a Commentary (Milwaukee: Bruce, 1936), 203–204. 103

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1285; PGL 834).109 Jesus’s command “to go in(to) peace” (ὕπαγε εἰς εἰρήνην) recalls a famous Old Testament and Jewish departure formula (cf. Judg 18:6; 1 Sam. 1:17; 20:42; 29:7; Jdt 8:35; 2 Sam 3:21) referring to a state of physical and spiritual well-being, here (as in rabbinic sources) possibly with an eschatological undertone.110 In Greek rhetorical terms, Jesus’s reaction may well be classified as a “maxim” (γνώμη).111 3. Translation Matters in Mark 5:35–43 [35] Ἔτι αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος ἔρχονται ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀρχισυναγώγου λέγοντες ὅτι ἡ θυγάθηρ σου ἀπέθανεν· τί ἔτι σκύλλεις τὸν διδάσκαλον; – The asyndetic resumption of the Jairus section adds to the abruptness of what follows. The preposition ἀπό poorly fits the verb ἔρχονται (cf. Luke 8:49). Matthew Black thinks that the construction is under the influence of Semitic.112 With ἔρχονται, Mark takes up the historic present again (v. 23). In the present context, the elliptic ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀρχισυναγώγου means “from the house of the leader of the synagogue” (cf. v. 38).113 Τί is an “interrogative expression of reason for, why?” (BDAG 1007; cf. Bauer 1633; LSJ 1797–1798; Montanari 2122); σκύλλω means “trouble, bother, annoy (someone)” (BDAG 933; Bauer 1514 “bemühen, belästigen, behelligen”; LSJ 1617; Montanari 1934–1935).114 The designation of Jesus as (ὁ) διδάσκαλος “teacher” (Vulg. “magister”) is frequent in the Synoptics and corresponds to the title rabbi115; the use of the article corresponds to the Aram. ‫( רבא‬BDAG 241; Bauer 385). Διδάσκαλος (see LSJ 421; Montanari 520) occurs only twice in the LXX, viz. in Est 6:1 109   bgt very flat: “Je kunt gerust zijn, je ziekte is weg.” nrd translates “wees gezond, (vrij) van je kwelling.” 110   Cf. Werner Foerster and Gerhard von Rad, “εἰρήνη,’ TWNT 2:398–416 (TDNT 2:400– 417); BDAG 287–288. Moule, Idiom-Book, 70: “probably … not intended to suggest a progressive entering into peace, but departure into a state of peace,” with reference to Jas 2:16 (italics original). Cf. slightly different: Marcus, Mark, 1:361 (eschatological peace). 111  Cf. Anderson, Glossary, 30–32. 112  Matthew Black, An Aramaic Approach to the Gospels and Acts: With an Appendix on The Son of Man by Geza Vermes (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1946, 31967), 108. 113   But cf. Gundry, Mark, 1:272 [“The ellipsis (or should we say the substitution of ‘the synagogue ruler’ for ‘the house’?) is so striking that at first sight it seems as though the ruler has gone back home rather than that he is accompanying Jesus”), 286–287. nlb translates “kamen Leute vom Vorsteher der Synagoge.” 114  Van Bruggen, Marcus, 124–125, favours the translation “haasten, opjagen” (cf. BDAG 933 “weary, harass,” referring to Matt 9:36, but there the translation “to bother, to annoy” is also perfectly possible): “De bode bedoelt niet te zeggen, dat Jaïrus nu plotseling de leraar Jezus maar moet laten waar deze is: dat zou ook zeker voor een oosterling heel onbeleefd zijn geweest. Hij bedoelt te zeggen, dat Jaïrus nu alle tijd kan nemen en onderweg niet meer op haast hoeft aan te dringen. Jezus kan nu zélf wel het tempo bepalen.” 115   See “Appendix III: Rabbi as a Title of Jesus,” in Comparative Handbook, ed. Chilton and Bock, 561–567.

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and 2 Macc 1:10 (LEH 150).116 Bas van Iersel comments: “the term ‘teacher’ seems here – especially because it is not used as a term of address – to indicate the esteem the household of Jairus has for him.”117 The biased question “Why are you still bothering the teacher?” expresses skepticism on the part of the speakers.118 [36] ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς παρακούσας τὸν λόγον λαλούμενον λέγει τῷ ἀρχισυναγώγῳ· μὴ φοβοῦ, μόνόν πίστευε. – In the present context, the verb παρακούω (LSJ 1314; Montanari 1554) can have two distinct meanings, (1) “to listen to something when one is not personally addressed, hear what is not intended for one’s ears, overhear,” and (2) “to pay no attention to something that has been heard,” hence “ignore.” The translation is either “Jesus overheard what was said” (BDAG 767 mistakenly adds: “to the centurion,” not so in Bauer 1251), or “Jesus ignored what they said.”119 Vulg. prefers the first meaning: “verbo quod dicebatur audito,” as in the Lukan parallel (ἀκούσας, Luke 8:50). Gundry opts for intentional ambivalency.120 The negative particle μή with the present imperative φοβοῦ brings to an end a condition now existing, “do not be afraid (any longer)” (cf. BDAG 646; Bauer 1046), “stop being afraid.” The present imperative πίστευε “comporte la nuance de la persévérance,” “continue to have faith, continue to believe.”121 Zerwick argues: “Mark’s present [πίστευε] expresses the idea of a kind of attitude to be kept up, and so may perhaps be rendered ‘do not lose faith’ (retain the faith you have had so far).”122 The verb πιστεύω means “to entrust oneself to an entity in complete confidence, believe (in), trust, w. implication of total commitment to the one who is trusted. In our lit. God and Christ are objects of this type of faith that relies on their power and nearness to help, in addition to being convinced that their revelations   bgt translates “kwam er iemand (sg.) met een bericht voor Jaïrus.”   Bastiaan M.F. van Iersel, Mark: A Reader-Response Commentary, JSNTSup 164, trans. W.H. Bisscheroux (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 207. 118   For a rhetorical-linguistic analysis of this particular question (and this type of question), see Douglas Estes, Questions and Rhetoric in the Greek New Testament: An Essential Reference Resource for Exegesis (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2017), 187. 119   Marcus, Mark, 1:355. Focant, Marc, 217, tries to hold the two meanings together: “Jésus saisit au passage l’information apportée à Jaïre, mais il passe outre et elle n’arrête pas son action.” 120   Gundry, Mark, 1:272. 121   Marcus, Mark, 1:362 (“keep on believing”: “Jairus has already displayed faith in his initial approach to Jesus and is now urged to maintain that trust even in the face of death”); Légasse, Marc, 1:346–347: “‘[C]rois seulement,’ c’est-à-dire: tiens bon dans la foi que tu as déjà manifestée en venant solliciter la guérison de la mourante; garde-la alors que ta fille est morte; va plus loin que ce qui est possible aux hommes (voir ) et mets ta confiance en Dieu seul qui agit pour moi.” Cf. also Focant, Marc, 211. 122   Zerwick, Biblical Greek, 79 (§ 242). Cf. Gould, Mark, 100: “In accordance with the ordinary use of the present imp., this means, hold on to your faith, do not lose it” (italics original). 116 117

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or disclosures are true” (BDAG 817; cf. LSJ 1407; Montanari 1668–1669). In this text the object (God or Christ?) is being left unexpressed. Cf. BDAG 818: “A special kind of this faith is the confidence that God or Christ is in a position to help suppliants out of their distress, have confidence” (cf. Bauer 1333–1334). [37] καὶ οὐκ ἀφῆκεν οὐδένα μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ συνακολουθῆσαι εἰ μὴ τὸν Πέτρον καὶ Ἰάκωβον καὶ Ἰωάννην τὸν ἀδελφὸν Ἰακώβου. – The verb συνακολουθέω “to accompany someone, freq. in the interest of maintaining an association, follow,” is normally used with a dative of the person followed, as e.g. in Mark 14:51 (συνηκολούθει αὐτῷ) and Luke 23:49 (γυναῖκες αἱ συνακολουθοῦσαι αὐτῷ), but it can also be used with μετά τινος (BDAG 964; LSJ 1693; Montanari 2019).123 The article (τόν) before the personal names “as a general rule … indicates that the person is known; without the article focus is on the name as such … there is no hard and fast rule” (BDAG 687; Bauer 1116). In the present context the article refers to the three names together: τὸν (Πέτρον καὶ Ἰάκωβον καὶ Ἰωάννην τὸν ἀδελφὸν Ἰακώβου).124 [38] καὶ ἔρχονται εἰς τὸν οἶκον τοῦ ἀρχισυναγώγου καὶ θεωρεῖ θόρυβον καὶ κλαίοντας καὶ ἀλαλάζοντας πολλά, – Once more a historic present (ἔρχονται) is used. The phrase εἰς τὸν οἶκον can be rendered in more than one way, such as “they came to the house” (so most English versions), “arrived at the house” and “they went into the house” (so a number of Dutch versions, e.g. sv, nbg, gnb “ze gingen het huis binnen”; Vulg. “veniunt in domum archisynagogi … et ingressus”); the latter translation, however, does not match well with the next verses, where Jesus is implied to have entered the house before he entered the room.125 Zerwick instances εἰς (τὸν οἶκον) in this verse as an example of εἰς taking the meaning of πρός.126 “It may be well at this point to specify he more exactly as ‘Jesus’ because of the other intervening third person referents.”127 nlb has “in das Haus des Vorstehers,” omitting “der Synagoge.” The phrase θεωρεῖ θόρυβον is an alliteration.128 θόρυβος refers to “a state or condition of varying degrees of commotion, turmoil, excitement, uproar” (BDAG 458; cf. LEH 278; LSJ 803–804; Montanari 947). As in Luke 7:32; 8:52, κλαίω “weep, cry” is used of the mourning for the dead (cf. LSJ 955–956; Montanari 1133–1134). The verb ἀλαλάζω, gen. “cry, shout aloud” (LSJ 60; LEH 25), “to cry out loudly in wailing, wail,” with πολλά (adv. acc.) “wail loudly” (BDAG 41; Bauer 67

  See on this verb also Appendix 1: Text and Transmission.   bgt simplifies the construction: “Petrus, en de broers Jakobus en Johannes.” 125  Cf. Bratcher and Nida, Translator’s Handbook, 178. 126   Zerwick, Biblical Greek, 32 (§ 97). 127   Bratcher and Nida, Translator’s Handbook, 179; their italics. 128   Gundry, Mark, 1:273. See also Lüderitz, “Rhetorik,” 177 (the effect of Congeries). 123

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“laut klagen”),129 is an onomatopoeia (cf. EDGr 1:60).130 “He saw a turmoil and people weeping and wailing loudly” (a constructio ad sensum).131 The καί after θόρυβος is taken by some versions as an explicative, hence redundant καί (so e.g. nrsv “he saw a commotion, people weeping and crying loudly”; also nab). “We are not told whether the ἀλαλάζοντας are men or women.”132 Cf. Amos 5:16 for professional mourners (“those skilled in lamentation,” nrsv), and Sir 38:16–23 for a sapiential reflection on mourning.133 [39] καὶ εἰσελθὼν λέγει αὐτοῖς· τί θορυβεῖσθε καὶ κλαίετε; τὸ παιδίον οὐκ ἀπέθανεν ἀλλὰ καθεύδει. – εἰσελθὼν λέγει αὐτοῖς, bgt “Binnen stond een groep mensen te huilen en te schreeuwen.” The verb θορυβέω “to cause emotional disturbance, disturb, agitate,” is mostly used in the passive with an intransitive sense, “be troubled, distressed, aroused” (BDAG 458; LSJ 803; Montanari 947).134 As in v. 35, τί is an “interrogative expression of reason for, why?” (BDAG 1007; Bauer 1633; LSJ 1797–1798). The present tenses are best rendered as: “Why are you distressed and weeping?” The noun τὸ παιδίον is the most generic and neutral designation of the girl, “the child,” see also vv. 23, 35, 41, 42. The literal meaning of καθεύδω is “to cease being awake, to sleep” and is often used in its literal sense (LSJ 852; Montanari 1002–1003). There can be no doubt that the translation must be: “the girl is not dead but sleeping,”135 in Greek rhetorical terms a typical example of ἀντίθεσις [the placement of opposite terms or meaning (or both) in conjoined clauses”].136 The question is though whether Jesus considers the girl as being still alive, taking “sleeping” literally, or whether he uses the word figuratively as an euphemistic expression for death (cf. Ps 87:6 LXX; Dan 12:2). BDAG 490 comments that κοιμάω is far more common in this sense (not so in Bauer 789).137 Hence a number of commentators argue that Mark does not tell us a story of a resuscitation of a dead person, but the awakening of someone from a coma.138 According to Matthew and Luke, the girl   nlb: “er sah … wie sehr (πολλά) sie weinten und heulten.”  Cf. Anderson, Glossary, 82–84. 131  Cf. Légasse, Marc, 1:334: “et il regarde le tumulte et (les gens) pleurant et poussant beaucoup de cris.” 132  Erik Peterson, “ἀλαλάζω,” TWNT 1:228 (TDNT 1:227). 133  See Shekan and Di Lella, Wisdom of Ben Sira, 443–444. 134  Van Leeuwen, Markus, 96: “Met Oosterse luidruchtigheid wordt er reeds rouwmisbaar gemaakt in het huis, waar de dood is binnengekomen.” 135   Cf. less accurate Trocmé, Marc, 153: “L’enfant n’est pas morte, mais endormie.” 136   Anderson, Glossary, 21–22. 137   Cf. L&N 1:265. See also Stephanie M. Fischbach, Totenerweckungen: Zur Geschichte einer Gattung, FB 69 (Würz­burg: Echter, 1992), 186–190 (“Die Metapher ‘schlafen’ im urchristlichen Sprachgebrauch”). She thinks the metaphor of death as “sleep” has been read back into Mark from the post-Easter proclamation. 138  Friedrich Daniel Ernst Schleiermacher, Das Leben Jesu: Vorlesungen an der Universität zu Berlin im Jahr 1832. Aus Schleiermacher’s handschriftlichem Nachlasse und 129 130

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was really dead, and this is certainly the first impression of the Markan account as well.139 Joel Marcus characterizes Jesus’s statement that the girl is only sleeping as “eschatological irony,” i.e. not, “like most irony, a contrast between two static realms of appearance and of truth but a way of seeing that looks beyond present appearances to the coming eschatological situation and interprets the present on the basis of the future.”140 The (historical) question whether the girl had really died or not is complicated by the observation that in our modern perception the boundary between life and death is relatively clear-cut, while in antiquity the transition from life to death was seen as a process (a journey) or at least could not be measured with the same degree of precision as today.141 [40] καὶ κατεγέλων αὐτοῦ. αὐτὸς δὲ ἐκβαλὼν πάντας παραλαμβάνει τὸν πατέρα τοῦ παιδίου καὶ τὴν μητέρα καὶ τοὺς μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ καὶ εἰσπορεύεται ὅπου ἦν τὸ παιδίον. – To denote the contrast, the initial καί may be rendered adversatively, “but” (niv). However, most modern versions reserve the translation “but” or an equivalent term for the following δέ, where there is a starker contrast between the response of the crowd and Jesus’s action.142 The imperfect tense κατεγέλων, from καταγελάω “laugh at, ridicule (someone),” (LSJ 886; Montanari 1046; cf. the LXX references in LEH 310–311), is descriptive: “they were laughing” (some modern versions take it as the beginning of an action).143 gnb paraphrases “ze vonden het bespottelijk wat hij zei” (lit. “they found it ridiculous what he said”) and thus weakens the sense. The understood object of derision (αὐτοῦ) and the subject of the following clause (αὐτός) is Jesus, who was last explicitly mentioned in v. 36. Perhaps αὐτός (BDAG 152–155) is emphatic: “they laughed at him, but he…”144 The verb ἐκβάλλω means “force to leave, drive out, expel” (BDAG 299; Bauer 477 “hinauswerfen, hinaustreiben, Nachschriften seiner Zuhörer, ed. Karl August Rütenik, SW 1/6 (Berlin: Reimer, 1864), 233, and the authors instanced in Chapter 1 (History and Research). 139   For some rabbinic parallels of death as sleep, see Joseph Bonsirven, Textes rabbiniques des deux premiers siècles chrétiens pour servir à l’intelligence du Nouveau Testament (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1955), 514–515 (no. 1901). See already Johann Vorst and Horatius Vitringa, De Hebraismis Novi Testamenti Commentarius accessere praeter eiusdem cognitato De Stylo Novi Testamenti et Diatriben de Adagiis Novi Testamenti Horatii Vitringae Animadversiones ad Commentar De Hebraismis Novi Testamenti, ed. Johann Friedrich Fischer (Leipzig: Adam Friedrich Böhme, [1665] 1778), 199–204 (on Death as sleep). 140   Marcus, Mark, 1:371. 141   See the classic study of Erwin Rohde, Psyche: Seelencult und Unsterblichkeitsglaube der Griechen, Mit einer Einführung von Otto Weinreich, 2 vols. (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1893, 9.101925). 142   luv and kbs have a nice solution (in Dutch): “Doch ze lachten Hem uit. Maar Hij…” Most Dutch versions simply drop the initial καί (lei, kbs, gnb, wv, nbv). sv has “En … maar,” nbg “En … doch.” 143   nasb, nau “They began laughing at him,” hcsb “They started laughing at him,” net “And they began making fun of him; iep “Quelli incominciarono a deriderlo.” 144   Gundry, Mark, 1:274.

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mehr od. weniger gewaltsam”; cf. LEH 178; LSJ 501; Montanari 623–624) and in context suggests that the bystanders were involuntarily thrown out with some degree of force. The special use of this verb (also in Mark) for the expulsion of evil spirits145 does not seem to play a role in the present context,146 although the translations “So he made all of them go outside” (gwn) and “He made them all leave” (nlt) are definitely too friendly. The implication is that they were thrown out from the house, not from the room. Πάντας refers to the members of the crowd of v. 38. Again there is a piling up of labials (π- and β-sounds): ἐκβαλὼν πάντας παραλαμβάνει τὸν πατέρα τοῦ παιδίου etc. (vv. 22–23), thus strengthening the dramatic effect of the action. Once more, Mark uses the historic present (παραλαμβάνει) to enhance the vividness of the story.147 njb inverses the structure of the sentence: “he turned them all out and, taking with him the child’s father…” The words καὶ τὴν μητέρα mark the very first mention of the mother. In context, “those with him” (τοὺς μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ) are Peter, James, and John (v. 37). After having expelled the crowd (the aorist ἐκβαλών denotes a prior action to that of the main verb παραλαμβάνει),148 Jesus took the parents and the three disciples and entered “(into the room) where the child was.”149 The local setting of where the child was lying is specified by a number of translations as “the room” (nasb, nau, nab, net, nlt)150 or “the place” ( hcsb, njb). In the light of v. 39, where Jesus and his disciples enter the house, it is implied that Jairus’s house had more than one room (one-room houses being no exception in first-century Palestine).151 There is no suggestion that it is a storied house (the verb used is εἰσπορεύομαι, not ἀναβαίνω, cf. Acts 1:13). Under the influence of the context, τό παιδίον (“the child”) is taken as ἡ παῖς “the girl” (nlt) or an equivalent female designation in a number of translations, beginning with Vulg. (“puella”).152 145  Some Dutch translations have “uitdrijven” (sv, luv, nbg; afr) or “uitwerpen” (nrd), which is usually used for the expulsion (exorcizing) of demons and evil spirits, although it can also be used for cattle. 146   Pace Marcus, Mark, 1:372. 147   dby, erv, dra, asv, rwb (“he takes, taketh”); drb, tob, fbj (“prend”); elo “nimmt,” mnt (“mitnimmt”) retain the present tense in the translation, 148   Most translations rework the sentence into two coordinate clause, e.g. nrsv “Then he put them all outside, and took the child’s father…” (see also mrd, tnt, pnt, gnt, rsv, cjb, esv, net, nlt; tob, bfc; lb, luo, ein, lut, hrd; luv, nbg, kbs, gnb, kbs, wv, nbv). hcsb has a different punctuation: “They started laughing at Him, but He put them all outside. He took the child”s father…” (cf. also gwn, nab). 149   Loyal to its translation principles nrd translates “daar waar het kind geweest is,” but implying (in Dutch) that the child was no longer in the room. 150   Cf. “chambre” (bfc); “Raum” (ein), “Kammer” (hrd); “vertrek” (nbg, kbs, wv), “kamer” (gnb, nbv). 151  Cf. Bratcher and Nida, Translator’s Handbook, 180: “Went in no doubt refers to a separate room in which the child lay” (their italics). 152   Further “mayden” (tnt), “damsell” (pnt, kjv, web, dra); “fanciulla” (lnd, iep), “bambina” (nrv); “muchacha” (srv); “niña” (r60, nvi, rva, r95, cab).

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[41] καὶ κρατήσας τῆς χειρὸς τοῦ παιδίου λέγει αὐτῇ· ταλιθα κουμ, ὅ ἐστιν μεθερμηνευόμενον· τὸ κοράσιον, σοὶ λέγω, ἔγειρε. – Κρατέω τῆς χειρὸς (τινος) is a normal, nontechnical expression for “take hold of someone’s hand” (cf. BDAG 564; Bauer 911 for references; see also LEH 353; LSJ 991; Montanari 1172) and is not equivalent to the idiom used in v. 23, where reference is made to a ritual act of laying on of hands (of the healer, that is, not of the sick person). The use of the historic present continues with λέγει, which introduces direct speech addressed to the girl (αὐτῇ refers to τό παιδίον and is strictly speaking a constructio ad sensum). According to Num 19:11–13, the touching of a corpse made someone unclean for seven days. A purification with water on the third and the seventh day would make the person clean again. According to m. Kelim 1.4 (cf. m. ’Ohal. 1.1), touching a corpse contracted the highest degree of uncleanness.153 While the use of Aramaic may help to increase a sense of mystery about the miracle to take place,154 the fact that Mark immediately provides a translation (as also in 7:34) will preclude readers from taking the words as a magical formula, as e.g. in Philostratus’s story of Apollonius of Tyana (“saying something secretly”).155 The retention of Aramaic is more likely to be explained by reference to Mark’s oral or written sources or as an attempt to add some couleur locale to the whole incident (see on this further Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction). The Aram. noun ‫( טליתא‬from ‫“ )טלית‬is in the emphatic state because it is a form of address, over-literally translated with the Greek definite article.”156 “The verb ‫ קום‬is widely attested both before 153   m. Kelim 1.4 (trans. Danby, Mishnah, 604): “These Fathers of Uncleanness, [namely,] a [dead] creeping thing, male semen, he that has contracted uncleanness from a corpse, a leper in his days of reckoning, and Sin-offering water too little in quantity to be sprinkled, convey uncleanness to men and vessels by contact and to earthenware vessels by [presence within their] air-space; but they do not convey uncleanness by carrying.” Cf. m. ’Ohal. 1.1 (trans. Danby, Mishnah, 649–650): “[Sometimes] two things contract uncleanness from a corpse, one of them seven-day uncleanness and the other evening-uncleanness: [sometimes] three things contract uncleanness from a corpse, two of them seven-day uncleanness and the third evening-uncleanness; [sometimes] four things contract uncleanness from a corpse, three of them seven-day uncleanness and the fourth evening-uncleanness. How [does this befall] the two things? If a man touches a corpse he contracts seven-day uncleanness, and if a man touches him he contracts evening-uncleanness.” For a discussion of the implications, see Chapter 6: Story and Narrative. 154   Marcus, Mark, 1:363. 155   Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. 4.45.1–2; ed. and trans. Christopher P. Jones, Philostratus: Apollonius of Tyana, Volume I: Life of Apollonius of Tyana, Books 1–4, LCL 16 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2005), 418–419. 156  Maurice Casey, “Aramaic Idiom and the Son of Man Problem: A Response to Owen and Shepherd,” JSNT 25 (2002): 10. Cf. Zerwick, Biblical Greek, 11 (§ 34): “The nominative with the article is … found for the vocative even in classical use; but where it occurs in the NT it is rather to be referred to Semitic influence, for in Hebrew the vocative is expressed exclusively by the nominative with the article, to which in Aramaic there corresponds the ‘emphatic’ state” (with reference to Mark 5:41).

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and after the time of Jesus. Its 2 f. sg. impv. is written ‫( קומי‬e.g. Dan. 7.5), to which some mss of the verse have corrected it. There is however ample evidence that final vowels after the tone syllable, including this one, were quiescent in Syriac and in Christian Palestinian Aramaic, though they are written down in standard texts and textbooks.”157 On the Aramaic background of ταλιθα κουμ, see also Hans Peter Rüger, “Aramäisch II: Im Neuen Testament,” TRE 3 (1978): 609 (including Targumic references). Vulg. has “talitha cumi.” R.T. France notes: “The basic meaning of te lîtā is “lamb,” but the term was used for children. The words might therefore appropriately be translated into English as ‘Get up, kid’!”158 Gregory Horsley refers to a Jewish epitaph found in Tiberias (of unspecified date) containing the word Θαλεθθι, which may well be a Greek transcription of the Aramaic talitha: “Thaleththi (Θαλεθθι) Mara, daughter (θυγάτηρ) of Samuel, wife (γυνή) of Le[ontius ?].”159 Observing that the change in the final vowel may be difficult to explain, he comments: “Now although girls were married at a young age, it is perhaps curious that the epitaph for Mara should emphasise her youthfulness in this way. Lifshitz suggests that the word may also mean ‘young woman’, or again that it is a proper name – a pet-name perhaps. If it is not a name then the word witnesses to the penetration of Aramaic words in the Greek spoken by Jews (Lifshitz).” The noun κοράσιον (a nominative for a real vocative)160 is a diminutive of κορή “girl” (BDAG 559; Bauer 902; see the LXX references in LEH 351; LSJ 980; Montanari 1160).161 For the rationale behind the various designations of the girl in the Markan story, see Focant, Marc, 213. Even though ἐγείρω may be used occasionally for raising someone from a sickbed,162 in the current context it is clear that a raising from death is in view (see also the next verse, where the verb ἀνίστημι is used). [42] καὶ εὐθὺς ἀνέστη τὸ κοράσιον καὶ περιεπάτει· ἦν γὰρ ἐτῶν δώδεκα. καὶ ἐξέστησαν [εὐθὺς] ἐκστάσει μεγάλῃ. – This is the third (and if the words in brackets are original, the fourth) instance of the typically Markan εὐθύς in this pericope (also in vv. 29, 30).163 The verb ἀνίστημι, “raise, raise up,” is used   Casey, “Aramaic Idiom,” 10.  R.T. France, The Gospel of Mark: A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 240 n.30. bgt leaves out the words σοὶ λέγω: “Meisje, sta op!” 159   Gregory H.R. Horsley, “Talitha (?) in a Jewish Epitaph,” NewDocs 1 (1981): 113–114 (no. 72), referring to Baruch Lifshitz, “Varia Epigraphica,” Euphrosune 6 (1974): 23–25. 160   Moule, Idiom-Book, 32. 161   nrd: “meiske.” 162   Gregory H.R. Horsley, “Physician, Heal Yourself…,” NewDocs 4 (1987): 20–21 (no. 5), refers to an epigram for a certain Epaphroditos, a doctor who had died from some illness: νοσέοντας ἔγειρας “you raised many who were sick.” 163   NSS 1:246 remarks on this (second!) εὐθύς: “εὐθύς ist hier viell. markinische Würzpartikel m. abgeschwächten Sinn … u. bleibt am besten unübersetzt bzw. es wird zusammen m. dem καί durch da wiedergegeben.” 157

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here as a synonym for ἔγειρω, “to raise” (v. 41). The imperfect περιεπάτει is used here fittingly to describe the vividness of the scene.164 The conjunction γάρ explains why it was not surprising that the girl could walk around: she was twelve years of age (cf. nlb: “es war aber zwölf Jahre alt”). The expression ἐξέστησαν ἐκστάσει, characterized by Gert Lüderitz as “etymologisierende Stammwiederholung,”165 is under Semitic influence, possibly via the LXX (cf. the references in LEH 215–216).166 Marcus thinks there may be “a deliberate half-pun” between ἐξέστησαν and ἀνέστη: “the girl stands up, and this causes the onlookers to ‘stand outside’ of their everyday reactions to events.”167 Such a wordplay would be in line with other wordplays found in this pericope. nlb has “sie entsetzten sich sogleich über die Maßen.” [43] καὶ διεστείλατο αὐτοῖς πολλὰ ἵνα μηδεὶς γνοῖ τοῦτο καὶ εἶπεν δοθῆναι αὐτῇ φαγεῖν. – The verb διαστέλλω means “to define or express in no uncertain terms what one must do, order, give orders” (BDAG 236, with πολλά: “he gave them strict orders”; Bauer 379 “er schärfte ihnen dringend ein”),168 cf. LEH 146; LSJ 412–413; Montanari 509. “Bei beiden Befehlen Jesu in V. 43 soll durch den Aorist die Eindrücklichkeit seiner Worte hervortreten.”169 NSS 1:246 suggests that the adverbial accusative πολλά may be translated as “nachdrücklich” (emphatically).170 The command to silence is addressed to αὐτοῖς, sc. the parents and the three disciples (vv. 37, 40). The content of the demand is introduced by ἵνα, “that no one should know this,” “and told171 them to give her something to eat” (δοθῆναι is an inf. aor. pass. from δίδωμι, BDAG 242–243; LSJ 422–423; Montanari 521). 164   bgt “ze begon te lopen.” According to Decker, “Function of the Imperfect Tense,” 358, this is an imperfect to provide “unnecessary” background details, “selected due to the supplemental nature of the description” (“if a little girl who had been pronounced dead got up, … she would be able to walk”). 165   Lüderitz, “Rhetorik,” 180–181. 166   Taylor, Mark, 297. He calls it a Septuagintalism and thinks “[w]e are entitled to conclude that Mark is using a Palestinian source.” Note Zerwick, Biblical Greek 21 (§ 62): “This ‘internal’ or ‘cognate’ dative (so called because the noun has the same root as the verb), although it is not entirely foreign to classical usage, e.g. φυγῇ φεύγειν, γάμῳ γαμεῖν, nevertheless clearly rests in the NT on a Semitic basis. This is however not necessarily the case if the noun be accompanied by an adjective, e.g. ἐξέστησαν ἐκστάσει μεγαλῃ Mk 5,42; in this case however the internal accusative is almost always used, e.g. ἐχάρησαν χαρὰν μεγάλην Mt 2,10.” nrd: “Zij staan versteld, meteen, in een groot versteldstaan.” 167   Marcus, Mark, 1:363. 168   Cf. less emphatic bgt “hij zei … en hij zei ook…” 169  Dagmar Oppel, Heilsam erzählen – erzählend heilen: Die Heilung der Blutflüssigen und die Erweckung der Jairustochter in Mk 5,21–43 als Beispiel markinischer Erzählfertigkeit, BBB 102 (Weinheim: Beltz Athenäum, 1995), 88 170   NSS 1:246: “[E]r schärfte ihnen nachdrücklich ein, niemand dürfe dies/etwas davon erfahren.” 171  Taylor, Mark, 298, followed by Légasse, Marc, 1:351 n.112, notes that εἶπεν is used here in the sense of “told” or “commanded.”

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C. Lexical, Syntactical and Semantic Notes on Matt 9:18–26 1. Translation Matters in Matt 9:18–19 [18] Ταῦτα αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος αὐτοῖς, ἰδοὺ ἄρχων εἷς ἐλθὼν προσεκύνει αὐτῷ λέγων ὅτι ἡ θυγάτηρ μου ἄρτι ἐτελεύτησεν· ἀλλὰ ἐλθὼν ἐπίθες τὴν χείρά σου ἐπ᾽ αὐτήν, καὶ ζήσεται.172 – Note that some translations and commentaries put the name Jairus in the pericope title of Matt 9:18–26, although it is not in the text.173 The genitive absolute ταῦτα αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος αὐτοῖς firmly ties this section to what precedes (vv. 14–17), vividly brought out in the translation of nbv “Hij was nog niet uitgesproken of…” (“He had hardly finished speaking when…”).174 The present tense of λαλοῦντος, in combination with ἰδού, suggests that Jesus’s speech was interrupted (cf. gnb “Hij was nog met hen in gesprek”). Translations of ταῦτα vary between plural (“these things,” e.g. Vulg. “haec”; esv, nab, nrsv) and singular (“this,” e.g. niv, nlt; nlb). Some versions have “thus.”175 niv and net leave αὐτοῖς untranslated (“while he was saying this”). So also nlt, which also explicates the subject (“As Jesus was saying this,” cf. v. 15). The omission of αὐτοῖς weakens the link with the previous audience as a possible backdrop of the story. nbv relocates αὐτοῖς, “hij was nog niet uitgesproken of er kwam … naar hen toe.”176 The interjection ἰδού, “behold, look,” is a prompter of attention (L&N 1:812; cf. also the LXX references in LEH 284; LSJ 819; Montanari 965) and serves to emphasize what follows. As often, it is used here to provide vivid172   Specialised literature on this pericope includes Nigel Turner, “The Style of Matthew,” in Moulton, Grammar, 4:31–44; Barclay M. Newman and Philip C. Stine, A Translator’s Handbook on the Gospel of Matthew, HeTr (London: United Bible Societies, 1988); NSS 1:49–50. 173   So e.g. lb, elb, sch (1951 “Auferweckung der Tocher des Jairus und Heilung einer blutflüssigen Frau”; ed. 2000 “Heilung einer blutflüssigen Frau. Die Auferweckung der Tochter des Jairus”; neg “Jésus guérit une femme et ressuscite la fille de Jaïrus.” Also Frederik Willem Grosheide, Het heilig Evangelie volgens Mattheus, KNT 1 (Amsterdam: H.A. van Bottenburg, 1922; repr. Utrecht: Wristers, 1983), 115; idem, Het heilig Evangelie volgens Mattheüs, CNT 1 (Kampen: Kok, [1922] 21954), 150 (“De opwekking van het dochtertje van Jairus”). 174  Cf. Levinsohn, “Participant Reference,” 31–44. Contra Grosheide, Mattheus (KNT), 115: “Ταῦτα δἐ αὐτοῦ λαλ. zal … niet mogen worden opgevat: terwijl Hij die dingen n.l. het onmiddellijk voorafgaande sprak, maar: terwijl Hij dergelijke dingen eens leerde” (italics original). Different (in the same series): Seakle Greijdanus, Het heilig Evangelie volgens Lukas: Hoofdstukken 1–12. KNT 3/1 (Amsterdam: H.A. van Bottenburg, 1940; repr. Utrecht: Wristers, 1983), 392: ταῦτα δἐ αὐτοῦ λαλ. “uitdrukkelijk een nauw temporeel verband.” 175   tnt, gnv, rsv; cf. tob, bfc “ainsi”; ein “so.” 176   The strong link with the preceding section has been denied by Grosheide, Mattheüs, (CNT), 150, for apologetic (harmonistic) reasons: “Mark. en Luk. verhalen deze opwekking in een ander verband, daar geschiedt zij, na wat Matth. in hfdst. 8 verhaalde. Daarom zullen we ταῦτα αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος αὐτοῖς niet zo mogen verstaan, dat Jaïrus kwam, terwijl Jezus het onmiddellijk voorafgaande predikte, doch: terwijl Hij dergelijke woorden eens sprak, in deze periode van prediking” (his italics).

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ness to the scene. It is left untranslated (or absorbed in the larger sentence structure) in many modern versions.177 njb and nrsv translate “suddenly” to explicate the scenery’s vividness. Since the section of the haemorrhaging woman is also introduced with ἰδού (v. 20), something is lost when it is not translated. John Nolland recognizes the structural significance of ἰδού at this pericope, but does not adopt it in his translation.178 The translation of ἄρχων (Bauer 227–228 “d. Herrscher, d. Herr, d. Fürst; d. Oberen”; LSJ 254; Montanari 313: “chief, commander; sovereign, king; governor, magistrate; governor; overseer; executor; (Christ.) celestial power”) with “leader of the synagogue” is an obvious harmonization with the parallels from Mark and Luke.179 The word can be used of the leader of a synagogue,180 but apart from the parallel passages, nothing in the context suggests that the man was a synagogue leader or a religious official.181 The noun ἄρχων (used here for the first time in Matthew) is a very general designation of one who rules or governs: “one who has eminence in a ruling capacity, ruler, lord, prince; gener. one who has administrative authority, leader, official” (BDAG 140) (cf. nab “an official”; lei and kbs translate “een aanzienlijk man”; gnb “iemand die een hoge positie had”; tob “un notable”; iep “un notabile”; rva “un hombre principal”; r 95 “un dignatario”). bfc has “un chef juif ” (!), njb “one of the officials,” nlb “einer der Oberen,” luv “een der oversten,” nrd “een overste, één.” If Matthew is responsible for the replacement of ἀρχισυνάγωγος by ἄρχων (note that he does so consistently, cf. v. 23 with Mark 5:36 and 38), this should be reflected in the translation of the word. There is a textual uncertainty about the punctuation and translation of ΕΙΣ. According to NA 28, the correct reading is ἄρχων εἷς, “a certain ruler” (cf. tnt). Vulg. has “princeps unus.” According to BDAG, εἷς has exactly  So bbe, niv, nlt, nab, nab, net; kbs, gnb, nbv; bfc; lnd, nrv, iep, r95.  John Nolland, The Gospel of Matthew: A Commentary on the Greek Text. NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; Bletchley: Paternoster, 2005), 392 (“While he was saying these things to them, a certain leader came…”), 394 (“Matthew highlights the parallel significance of the two narratives (one embedded in the other) with the use of ἰδού (lit. ‘behold’) at the point where the key actor for each first comes on stage.”). This is conform his policy to leave ἰδού untranslated in most of Matthew’s uses (introduction, xx). 179   So (with or without indication of the freedom of translation): nlt, nrsv (annotated); nlt “the leader of a synagogue”; nbg “een overste (der synagoge),” nbv, bgt “een leider van de synagoge”; drb “un chef de synagogue” (their italics); ein “ein Synagogenvorsteher”; lut “einer von den Vorstehern der Gemeinde”; lnd, nrv “uno die capi della sinagoga”; lba “un oficial de la sinagoga”). 180   MM 83; NSS 1:49. Note that HJP 2:435 makes a distinction between the office of ἄρχων and of ἀρχισυνάγωγος based on inscriptional evidence. 181   Pace Donald A. Hagner, Matthew 1–13, WBC 33A (Dallas, TX: Word, 1988), 248: “For Matthew, the simple ἄρχων, ‘ruler,’ a Jewish ruler, is understood to be a synagogue official (as in Mark 5:22 and Luke 8:41).” 177 178

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the same function here as an indefinite article, “a ruler” (BDAG 292; Bauer 466).182 Another reading takes ΕΙΣ- with the next verb (εἰσελθών), “a ruler came in,” i.e. in the house they were in, an interpretation that very well fits the Matthaean (not the Markan!) context (v. 10). Whereas a form of ἔρχομαι in Mark is followed by εἷς, in Matthew it precedes (and hence can be taken as part of) the verb. If εἰσελθών is the correct reading, there is a parallel with v. 25. See further Appendix 1: Text and Transmission. The translation “he knelt before him,” although technically possible, does not seem to bring out the specific Matthaean use of the motif of προσκυνήσις and fails to adequately express the difference with Mark’s and Luke’s more shallow (or more dramatic) expressions (Mark 5:22 πίπτει πρὸς τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ; πεσὼν παρὰ τοὺς πόδας [τοῦ] Ἰησοῦ). The verb προσκυνέω (for its etymology, see EDGr 1:803 s.v. κυνέω) means “to express in attitude or gesture one’s complete dependence on or submission to a high authority figure, (fall down and) worship, do obeisance to, prostrate oneself before, do reverence to, welcome respectfully” (BDAG 882; cf. Bauer 1435 “niederkniend huldigen, anbeten, fußfällig verehren, unterwürfig grüßen,” LSJ 1518; PGL 1174–1176; Montanari 1816–1817, and the many LXX references in LEH 526).183 An instructive parallel can be found in a passage in Arrian, where Callisthenes says that people have used numerous ways of distinguishing all the honours which are appropriate for men and for gods; … the most important distinction concerns the matter of obeisance (τῷ τῆς προσκυνήσεως νόμῳ). At greeting men receive a kiss, but what is divine, I suppose because it is seated above us and we are forbidden even to touch it (οὐδὲ ψαῦσαι αὐτοῦ θέμις), is for that very reason honoured by obeisance (προσκυνήσει).184

The translation “he worshipped him,”185 perhaps brings in a undue liturgical note, although on the level of Matthew this may not be entirely unintentional.186 On Isa 49:7 LXX as a possible background to this verse, see below Chapter 4 (Tradition and Redaction). According to Gundry, “[t]he imperfect of προσεκύνει begins a series of imperfects that weld Matthew’s story 182  So already Erasmus: “unus, pro quidam,” in Erasmus’ Annotations on the New Testament, vol. 1: The Gospels: Facsimile of the Final Latin Text (1535) with All Earlier Variants (1516, 1519, 1522 and 1527), ed. Anne Reeve, Introduction M.A. Screech, SHCT 42 (London: Duckworth, 1986), 124. 183   Cf. also MM 549: “do obeisance to, worship,” used generally of a god. 184   Arrian, Anab. 4.11.2–3 (Brunt, LCL 236:374–375). 185   Vulg. “et adorabat eum”; so tnt, pnt, gnv, kjv, web, asv, bbe “gave him worship,” nkj. Nolland, Matthew, 392 translates “and did obeisance to him.” See his discussion of the notion of “doing obeisance” in Matthew on p.349. 186  Cf. L&N 1:540 n.7: “προσκυνέω appears to differ somewhat in meaning from σέβομαι, σεβάζομαι, and εὐσεβέω “to worship” … in emphasizing more the semantic component of position or attitude involved in worship.” Contra Grosheide, Mattheus (KNT), 115: “Προσκυνεῖν h.l. niet bepaald aanbidden, maar voor iemand neervallen, zoo­als ook bij het bidden geschiedde. Hier kan van Goddelijke eer bewijzen wel evenmin sprake zijn als 8:2.”

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together,” referring to vv. 19 (ἠκολούθησεν), 21 (ἔλεγεν), and 24 (ἔλεγεν, κατεγέλων).187 The request of the ruler is reported in direct speech and introduced by a ὅτι-recitativum. The article (ἡ) before θυγάτηρ is appropriate since the girl is introduced here for the first time. Does the article imply that she is his only daughter? Luke, at any rate, seems to have taken the Markan text (Mark 5:23; Luke 8:42) that way. θυγάτηρ “daughter” is the general designation for a child in a parental connection (“immediate female offspring,” L&N 1:118), with no specific understanding of age (note that Matthew, different from Mark and Luke, does not specify her age!). In addition to θυγάτηρ Matthew uses τὸ κοράσιον (vv. 24, 25) to denote the girl (also in Mark 5:41, 42; cf. 6:28 in a mother-daughter context). The possessive pronoun μου expresses parental (fatherly) affection (but one wonders why not ἡμῶν to include the mother? She appears to be entirely absent in Matthew!). As in classical use, the temporal adverb ἄρτι is used here with reference to the immediate past (BDAG 136; Bauer 221; LSJ 248–249; Montanari 306–307). Can ἄρτι ἐτελεύτησεν perhaps be taken as an ingressive (inchoative) aorist?188 In the three other instances of exactly the same form, one in Matthew (22:25) and two in Acts (2:29; 7:15), the aorist tense clearly expresses the result. The translation “to be on the point of death” is found in Heb 11:22, but there it is expressed, as is to be expected, by the present participle (Πίστει Ἰωσὴφ τελευτῶν … ἐρμνηόνυσεν). Nor is it likely that the aorist should be taken as a present tense, as Olearius and Kühnöl did (“iam moritur, morti est proxima”).189 The clear and unambiguous meaning of ἄρτι ἐτελεύτησεν is “she has just died” (Vulg. “modo defuncta est”).190 The contrast191 created by ἀλλά is one between the definitive tragedy of the girl’s death and the father’s request for a live-giving intervention of Jesus (weakened by kbs “Kom haar toch de hand opleggen” and nbv “Kom alstublieft…”; cf. ein “Komm doch,” all breaking up the sentence into two). The imperatival use of the aorist participle ἐλθών “come” (left out by gnb) is 187   Robert H. Gundry, Matthew: A Commentary on His Handbook for a Mixed Church under Persecution (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, [1982,] 21994), 172. 188   See the authors instanced in Chapter 1: History and Research. 189  Johannes Olearius, Observationes sacrae ad evangelium Matthaei (Leipzig: Georgi, 1713), 269–272; Christian Gottlieb Kühnöl (also spelled Kuinoel, Kuinöl, Kuinoelius), Commentarius in libros Novi Testamenti historicos I: Evangelium Matthaei, ed. Johann Georg von Kulpis (Leipzig: Barth, 1807, 31823), 263. 190   Roger L. Omanson, “A Question of Harmonization: Matthew 9:18–25,” BT 42 (1991): 241, has a suggestive note on how the niv translators were led by theological concerns rather than with linguistic arguments: in the first (1973) edition Matt 9:18b was translated as “My daughter is at the point of death.” This was corrected in the 1978 edition to “My daughter has just died” but still with a note that suggested that the translation “My daughter is now dying” was also possible. In later editions this note was dropped. 191  Different NSS 1:49: “ἀλλά hier beim Imp. zur Verstärkung der Aufforderung doch.”

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best expressed by coordinating it with the following aorist imperative ἐπίθες, “come and lay your hand upon her.” Matthew’s ἐπίθες τὴν χείρα (sg.) σου ἐπ᾽ αὐτήν is a variation of the more regular “to lay hands (pl.) on someone or something.” Davies and Allison note that in comparison with Mark 5:23, “Matthew’s line is more in accord with the LXX usage,” referring to Exod 29:10, 15, 19; Lev 1:4, 11; Num 27:18 (ἐπιθήσεις τὰς χεῖράς σου ἐπ᾽ αὐτόν); 27:23 etc.192 The conjunction καί seems to express the expected result (“so that…”; lei, kbs, nbv “dan”) rather than the mere purpose of Jesus’s laying on of his hand upon the girl. In context, the future indicative ζήσεται “and she will live” means “and she will come back to life” ( bbe, nlt), or “she will live again” (cf. Rom 14:9).193 nlt restructures the sentence considerably, “but you can bring her back to life again if you just come and lay your hand on her.” [19] καὶ ἐγερθεὶς ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἠκολούθησεν αὐτῷ καὶ οἱ μαθηταὶ αὐτοῦ. – While most English versions simply translate the coordinate conjunction καί with “and,” some versions leave it untranslated (nab, niv, kbs, nbv, gnb). nlt translates it with “so.” It is only in this verse that Jesus (ὁ Ἰησοῦς) is explicitly introduced as the subject of the sentence (earlier mentioned in v. 15). In context, ἐγερθείς “rose up” seems to imply rising up from the table where he was sitting.194 ἠκολούθησεν αὐτῷ “he followed him” (LSJ 52; Montanari 70; cf. the LXX references of the literal and metaphorical use of this verb in LEH 21). That Jesus follows the leader (rather than vice versa) is clear, but the implications of it (if any) are not.195 The somewhat elliptic nature of this verse – the words καὶ οἱ μαθηταὶ αὐτοῦ come somewhat as an afterthought – has been variously dealt with in modern translations. Only a few translations leave the sentence structure intact more or less exactly as it is ( luv “En Jezus stond op en volgde hem, en zijne jongeren”). A few translations add a verb and thus create a coordinate clause, so e.g. kjv “and so did his disciples” (italicised in kjv indicating that the words are not found in the original; followed by nab, niv) and gnb “en de leerlingen gingen mee” (note the absence of αὐτοῦ in this translation). Other versions translate καὶ οἱ μαθηταὶ αὐτοῦ as “with his disciples,” thus avoiding the suggestion that Jesus followed Jairus and his (own) disciples (so esv, rsv, nrsv, tnt; nlb; nbv; lei , nbg, kbs somewhat redundant “samen met zijn leerlingen”). 192   Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:126. Cf. the references in LEH 237. At any rate, not that Jesus was asleep, as nrd might imply: “Klaarwakker (= “wide awake”) volgt Jezus hem.” 193   luv, lei, nlt, nbv, gnb; ein “dann wird sie wieder lebendig.” njb, less accurately, translates “and her life will be saved.” Also NSS 1:49. 194   Gundry, Matthew, 172; Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:127. 195   See Amy-Jill Levine, “Discharging Responsibility: Matthean Jesus, Biblical Law, and Hemorrhaging Woman” (1996), in A Feminist Companion to Matthew, ed. Amy-Jill Levine and Marianne Blickenstaff, FCNTECW 1 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 2001), 84–87, for a discussion of the various proposals (quotation from 84).

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2. Translation Matters in Matt 9:20–22 [20] Καὶ ἰδοὺ γυνὴ αἱμορροοῦσα δώδεκα ἔτη προσελθοῦσα ὄπισθεν ἥψατο τοῦ κρασπέδου τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ· – Again (v. 18) a scene is interrupted by ἰδού. The words καὶ ἰδού can well be translated adversatively, “But look…” or “Then suddenly” (nrsv; cf. nbv “plotseling”), to emphasize an unexpected turn of the story. Other versions reduce the force somewhat, “just then” (niv) or “nu was daar…” (gnb). As in v. 18, nab omits καὶ ἰδού altogether. The woman (γυνή is the general word) is identified by her illness. The verb αἱμορροέω means “to experience a loss of blood, bleed, suffer with hemorrhage” (BDAG 27; Bauer 43 “an Blutfluß leiden”; LEH 15 “to lose blood,” with reference to Lev 15:33), and seems to be more general than the Markan parallel expression (cf. LSJ 39 and Montanari 52 for more or less synonymous terms derived from the root αἱμο-). L&N (1:273 n.21) suggests that the various expressions used in the three Synoptic accounts to describe the woman’s predicament “all refer to a menstrual flow of blood, but the phrases πηγὴ αἵματος and ῥύσις αἵματος seem to be restricted primarily to this meaning, while αἱμορροέω in non-biblical contexts means simply ‘to suffer a loss of blood’ or ‘to bleed’, but it may, of course, refer to menstrual bleeding. Because of the wider range of reference in αἱμορροέω, this term has been listed separately.” Davies and Allison conclude: “A uterine hemorrhage is undoubtedly meant.”196 For the temporal accusative δώδεκα ἔτη and the words (προσ)ελθοῦσα ὄπισθεν ἥψατο, see the comments on Mark 5:25, 27. The phrase τοῦ κρασπέδου τοῦ ἱματίου is a case of homoioteleuton. The neuter noun κράσπεδον (LSJ 990; Montanari 1171; absent from PGL) has two distinct meanings. First, it means “edge, border, hem of a garment,”197 and second, it means “tassel” or “fringe” which Israelites, according to the regulations given in Num 15:37–38 and Deut 22:12, were obligated to wear on the four corners of their outer garments (HJP 2:479–481; BDAG 564; Bauer 910; LEH 353 also referring to Zech 8:23). Most commentators on Matthew opt for the second meaning, “tassel,”198 given the explicit mention of the word in Matt 23:5: “(The Pharisees) make their phylacteries (τὰ φυλακτήρια) broad and their fringes (τὰ κράσπεδα) long” (nrsv).199 In LXX κράσπεδον renders ‫( כנף‬Deut 22:12 “You shall make tassels (στρεπτά) on the four corners of the cloak with which you cover yourself” (ἐπὶ τῶν τεσσάρων κρασπέδων τῶν περιβολαίων σου); Zech 8:23 “Thus says the L ord of hosts: In those days ten men from the nations of every language shall take hold of a Jew, grasping his garment (ἐπιλάβωνται τοῦ κρασπέδου ἀνδρὸς Ιουδαίου) and saying, ‘Let   Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:128.  Cf. bgt “de rand van zijn jas.” 198  E.g. Gundry, Matthew, 173; Hagner, Matthew, 1:248–249; Nolland, Matthew, 396. 199   So also Johannes Schneider, “κρασπέδον,” TWNT 3:904 (TDNT 3:904). 196

197

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us go with you, for we have heard that God is with you’.”) and ‫[ ציצת‬Num 15:38 (bis), 39: “Speak to the Israelites, and tell them to make fringes on the corners of their garments (κράσπεδα ἐπὶ τὰ πτερύγια τῶν ἱματίων αὐτῶν) throughout their generations and to put a blue cord on the fringe at each corner (ἐπὶ τὰ κράσπεδα τῶν πτερυγίων κλῶσμα ὑακίνθινον). You have the fringe (ἐν τοῖς κρασπέδοις) so that, when you see it, you will remember all the commandments of the L ord and do them…” nrsv] (HRCS 782; LEH 353).200 In a formal Jewish context, the fringes seem to have served as a mnemonic device rather than as a magical item. [21] ἔλεγεν γὰρ ἐν ἑαυτῇ· ἐὰν μόνον ἅψωμαι τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ σωθήσομαι. – A few translations take γάρ (wrongly) as part of the woman’s speech and treat ἔλεγεν ἐν ἑαυτῇ as an interjected clause: “for – she said to herself – if only…”201 In Greek this is impossible; γάρ clearly introduces a comment by the author and explains why she had touched Jesus’s garment (“for she said to herself: if only…”). niv and nab leave γάρ untranslated. ἐν ἑαυτῇ “within herself” (Vulg. “intra se”) or “to herself” is interpreted by a number of versions as “she thought.”202 net translates the imperfect tense as an iterative, “she kept saying to herself,” mrd renders the Syriac ‫ܐܡܪܐ‬ (Kiraz, CESG 1:118) as a pluperfect, “she had said.”203 For ἐὰν ἅψωμαι see above. The adverb μόνον “alone, only” qualifies ἅψωμαι (“if I only touch…” or “if only I touch…”) rather than τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ (as is implied by versions that translate “if I touch only his garment” or “if I touch his garment only”). The noun ἱμάτιον refers to the “outer clothing, cloak, robe” (BDAG 475; LSJ 829; Montanari 976). In context, the future indicative σωθήσομαι refers in the first instance to restoration to physical health (“I will be healed”), but given the societal and communal consequences of physical healing (the possibility of re-entry into the religious and social community) a broader translation is to be preferred, e.g. “I will be made well.” Whether a more theological translation is appropriate, “I will be saved” (tnt, pnt, ylt, njb; nbg “zal ik behouden zijn,” kbs 200   Cf. Takamitsu Muraoka, Hebrew/Aramaic Index to the Septuagint Keyed to the HatchRedpath Concordance (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1998), 70 (‫)כנף‬, 125 (‫)ציצת‬. On the wider cultural background of the ‫ציצת‬, see Str-B 4/1, 277–292 [12. Exkurs: Die Çiçijoth (Schaufäden)]; Ferris J. Stephens, “The Ancient Significance of Ṣîṣîth,” JBL 50 (1931): 59–70 (giving examples from Babylonian sources of people seizing the sisiktu (= “mantle,” according to the interpretation of Stephens) of the gods and of men as acts of special piety to get hold of the power of the person involved); Jacob Milgrom, “Of Hems and Tassels: Rank, Authority and Holiness Were Expressed in Antiquity by Fringes on Garments,” BAR 9/3 (1983): 61–65; HJP 2:479. 201  So bbe “Because, she said to herself, if I may but put my hand on his robe”; luv “Want, zeide zij bij zichzelve: Indien ik slechts…”; nbg “Want, zeide zij bij zichzelf, indien ik…” 202   ”she was thinking” (njb), “she thought” (nlt), “dacht ze bij zichzelf” (gnb), “ze dacht” (nbv); rva “ella pensaba dentro de sí.” Cf. “in her mind” (mrd). 203  So also Peter Trummer, Die blutende Frau: Wunderheilung im Neuen Testament (Freiburg: Herder, 1991), 87 (“Denn sie hatte bei sich gesagt”); Gundry, Mark, 1:269.

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“dan ben ik gered”), cannot be decided here and needs to be discussed in the light of Matthew’s broader concept of salvation.204 [22] ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς στραφεὶς καὶ ἰδὼν αὐτὴν εἶπεν· θάρσει, θύγατερ· ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε. καὶ ἐσώθη ἡ γυνὴ ἀπὸ τῆς ὥρας ἐκείνης. – The subject of v. 19 (“Jesus”) is resumed. Translations differ in their rendering of δέ. Some take it as an adversative “but,” 205 while others leave it untranslated, 206 or take it as a loosely temporal “then.” 207 An adversative translation seems preferable, since it brings out more clearly the abruptness and the unexpectedness of Jesus’s action. Before the hoped-for healing is said to take place (different from Mark!), Jesus turns and (without a prior act of looking around) (immediately) sees her and addresses her. The imperative θάρσει (from θαρσέω “be of good courage,” LSJ 784; Montanari 926; see the LXX references in LEH 270) recalls the same word in v. 2, addressed to the paralytic (cf. also 14:27). Matthew does not describe the mental state of the woman but only hints at it via a word of Jesus (compared to Mark, Matthew strengthens the alliteration with θάρσει). L&N 1:306–307 s.v. “Courage, Boldness” translates: “to have confidence and firmness of purpose in the face of danger or testing” [cf. in the same semantic domain παρρησιάζομαι “to have courage or boldness in the face of danger or opposition” (L&N 1:307)]. Θύγατερ is the vocative of θυγάτηρ (Blass-Debrunner 146–147; BDAG 460; LSJ 808). A number of translations add a personal pronoun to the address of Jesus: Peshitta has ‫“ ܒܪܬܝ‬my daughter” (Kiraz, CESG 1:119). Also njb; luv, kbs , gnb “mijn kind”; drb “ma fille,” tob, bfc; ein, lut, nlb (NSS 1:50: “freundl. Anrede … meine Tochter”). On the other hand, as in the Markan parallel the Dutch nbv leaves θύγατερ untranslated. Even though in principle this is admissible, in the present context this is surely unwarranted because it destroys the parallel between the two women in question and makes one of them less visible. Does ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε here in Matthew have the same meaning as in Mark? All English translations have “faith,” most Dutch versions have “geloof” (faith), except kbs “vertrouwen” (trust). The correct translation depends on Matthew’s particular understanding of πίστις.208 Gundry com204   Hagner, Matthew, 1:249: “σωθήσομαι, lit. ‘I will be saved,’ refers here to being freed from her malaise. But its threefold use here (compared to two occurrences each in Mark and Luke) shows Matthew’s special interest in the word and suggests a further nuance to it. Elsewhere in Matthew the same verb has the meaning of salvation (e.g., 1:21; 10:22; 16:25; 18:11; 19:25). Whether his readers were to hear an echo of the latter even in the present passage is uncertain but not unreasonable.” 205   pnt, kjv, web, dby, dra, asv, bbe, nkj, net; lei, nbg, gnb; tob; elb, mnt; lba, rva, r95. 206   njb, rsv, niv, nlt, nrsv, esv, nab,; kbs, nbv; lsg, neg, bfc; ein, elb. 207   tnt, gnv; luv “toen”; lut, nlb “da.” 208   Cf. Gerhard Barth, “πίστις, πιστεύω,” EWNT 3:216–231, and the literature cited there.

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ments: “The implication of the perfect tense of σέσωκεν is that the woman was already saved by the time Jesus pronounced her so.” 209 Nolland argues: “‘Your faith has made you well’ is not a statement about faith as a psychosomatic cause of healing. Rather, faith is that state of awareness, receptivity, and readiness for appropriate action which opens one to the working of the powers of the kingdom of God in the ministry of Jesus.” 210 nlb has here (and in Luke) “dein Glaube hat dir geholfen,” different from the Markan parallel, where it has “dein Glaube hat dich gesund gemacht,” an editorial infelicity. The result of Jesus’s declaration is instantaneous and definitive healing: καὶ ἐσώθη ἡ γυνὴ ἀπὸ τῆς ὥρας ἐκείνης (καί is left untranslated in kbs). Most translations recognize that σέσωκεν and ἐσώθη come from the same verb and translate the two parallels identical, so e.g. “made (you) whole… (she) was made whole” (gnv, kjv, web, dra, asv), “has saved you/thee … (she) was saved” ( ylt, njb), “has healed (you) … (she) was healed” (dby, niv; cf. elb), “has made (you) well … (she) was made well” ( bbe , rsv, nkj, nrsv, esv). 211 Other translations opt for a different treatment of the two verbs, e.g., “made safe … made whole” (tnt, pnt); “given life … was cured” (mrd); “made well … was healed” (nlt, net with annotation); “saved … was cured” (nab); “heeft u geholpen … werd gezond” ( luv; cf. ein, lut); “heeft u gered … was genezen” (gnb, nbv). The woman was healed/saved (ἐσώθη), i.e. by God.212 Gundry argues that ἀπὸ τῆς ὥρας ἐκείνης (i.e. from the moment that Jesus uttered his word)213 is a typically rabbinic phrase which Matthew uses more often in healings (Matt 15:28; 17:18).214 According to Davies and Allison, it is rabbinic and a Septuagintism.215 3. Translation Matters in Matt 9:23–26 [23] Καὶ ἐλθὼν ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν τοῦ ἄρχοντος καὶ ἰδὼν τοὺς αὐλητὰς καὶ τὸν ὄχλον θορυβούμενον – When Jesus arrives, 216 he notices the crowd of mourners.217 The phrase εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν (cf. Mark οἶκος) may be rendered   Gundry, Matthew, 174.   Nolland, Matthew, 397. 211   Gundry, Mark, 1:268. 212  So Trummer, Die blutende Frau, 177 n.34. 213   Cf. Bernhard Weiss, Das Matthäus-Evangelium, KEK 1/1 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, [1832] 91898), 189: ἀπὸ τῆς ὥρας ἐκείνης “hebt ausdrücklich hervor (gegen Nösg.), dass erst von der Stunde an, wo Jesus ihr diese göttliche Wunderhilfe zusagte, die thatsächliche Heilung eintrat, nachdem sie durch ihn den wahren Grund derselben erkannt hatte.” 214   Gundry, Matthew, 174, with reference to Black, Aramaic Approach, 108–112. 215   Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:130 and 1:81, also with reference to Black. But I cannot confirm this from LEH 677. 216   bgt “Jezus kwam bij het huis van de man die hem om hulp gevraagd had.” 217   καί untranslated njb, nkj, niv, nlt, nrsv, net; lei, kbs, gnb, nbv; tob, bfc; ein; lnd, nrv, iep; lba; rva, r95. 209 210

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“to the house” or “into the house.” The noun οἰκία is used for “a structure used as a dwelling, house” (BDAG 695; Bauer 1130; LSJ 1203; Montanari 1431), but “house” is also the rendering of οἶκος (BDAG 699; Bauer 1135– 1136; LSJ 1204–1205; Montanari 1433). In the present context it is impossible to define the difference between the two words (cf. also L&N 1:81). Most likely it is just a matter of preference for variation.218 Note that nrsv, different from v. 18 (“a leader of the synagogue”), translates “to the leader’s house.” Jesus is not named in the protasis in some translations, “when he entered the house” (luv; lut). The αὐληταί are “fluteplayers” (also in Rev 18:22), 219 a standard part of Jewish mourning customs: “R. Judah says: Even the poorest in Israel should hire no less than two flutes and one wailing woman (at a burial of a daughter or a married woman).” 220 Josephus writes: “Thus for thirty days the lamentations never ceased in the city, and many of the mourners hired flute-players (τοὺς αὐλητάς) to accompany their funeral dirges.” 221 In both Matthew and Josephus the definite article is used (τοὺς αὐλητάς), prob. generically. Flute-players were also a part of Greek and Roman culture, at festivals and burials (MM 92; cf. LSJ 276; cf. Montanari 338). This is the first reference to a crowd (τὸν ὄχλον θορυβούμενον) in Matthew’s version. nlb translates τὸν ὄχλον θορυβούμενον as “das Getümmel des Volks.” [24] ἔλεγεν· ἀναχωρεῖτε, οὐ γὰρ ἀπέθανεν τὸ κοράσιον ἀλλὰ καθεύδει. καὶ κατεγέλων αὐτοῦ. – Many versions begin a new sentence. The imperfect ἔλεγεν may well be an imperfect “zur Schilderung einer Handlung.” According to Wallace, it is a rare example of an instantaneous imperfect (a.k.a. aoristic or punctiliar imperfect).222 As in Matt 2:13 and 27:5, ἀναχωρέω (“to depart from a location”) is used in a general sense of “go away” (BDAG 75; Bauer 125–126; LSJ 127; Montanari 162; LEH 46), although perhaps the meaning “go back, return to the area from which one has departed” is possible as well (cf. nbv “ga naar huis”) (cf. MM 40). The command to leave (“eruit jullie!,” kbs, gnb) is motivated by the uselessness of their presence.223 The conjunction γάρ “for” is left untranslated or compensated by punctuation (njb, niv, nlt, nab; gnb; tob; ein). nlt reverses the order: “Get out of here, he told them…”  Cf. Nolland, Matthew 397 n.211, with a slight preference for “into the house.”  See HJP 3.2:912 (index s.v. “Burial-practices”); John J. Pilch, “Flute Players, Death, and Music in the Afterlife (Matthew 9:18–19, 23–26),” BTB 37 (2007): 12–19. 220   m. Ketub. 4.4; ed. Hammelburg 3:202; trans. Danby 250. Cf. also m. Šabb. 23.4; ed. Hammelburg 2:84; trans. Danby 120: “If a gentile brought the flutes [to accompany the burial of a corpse, AZ] on the Sabbath an Israelite may not play dirges on them unless they had been brought from near by,” m. B. Meṣ. 6.1; ed. Hammelburg 4:154; trans. Danby 357: “pipers for a bride or for a corpse.” 221   Josephus, B.J. 3.9.6 § 437 (Thackeray, LCL 203:698–699). More parallels can be found in Str-B 1:521–523; Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:131. 222   Wallace, Greek Grammar, 542. 223  Different nrd: “maakt ruimte.” 218

219

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The older English translations translate τὸ κοράσιον (dim. of κορή; cf. LEH 351) as “maid” (tnt, pnt, gnv, kjv, web) or “damsel” ( ylt, dby, asv), reflecting the social relationships of the time. Modern versions prefer “girl” (dra, njb, bbe , rsv, nkj, niv, nlt, nrsv, esv, net, nab). According to Phrynichus, Ecl. 73f., κοράσιον is a παράλογον (cf. LSJ Supl 182, “a foreign word”).224 Many versions take the aorist (οὐ) ἀπέθανεν as resultative “is (not) dead,” although others translate “did not die” ( ylt; cf. lei, nbg, kbs, nbv, “is niet gestorven”; ein, elb “ist nicht gestorben”). The adversative ἀλλά creates a contrast between the bystanders’ conviction and Jesus’s estimate of the situation: “she is not dead (as you think) but (ἀλλά) she sleeps.” To bring out the contrast some versions leave ἀλλά untranslated and compensate by punctuation (njb; nbv; tob). The translation of nlt “she’s only asleep” (cf. gnb “ze slaapt alleen maar”; ein “es schläft nur”)225 tries to reduce the harshness of Jesus’s comment, but with no good reason.226 In modern languages it is often necessary to explicate the subject of καθεύδει. Strictly speaking the subject is “it,” (i.e. τὸ κοράσιον), but a number of versions translate “she” (njb, nlt; nbg “het”; gnb , nbv “ze,” a constructio ad sensum, the Greek and Dutch words for “girl” being neuter). The reaction of the crowd is predictable: καὶ κατεγέλων αὐτοῦ “and they laughed at him.” nlt stresses the contrast between Jesus and the crowd by rendering καί as an adversative (also niv, nlt; bfc) and explicating the change of subject of the sentence: “but the crowd laughed at him”; cf. nbv “men (impersonal sg.) lachtte smalend.” Sometimes καί is left untranslated (“they laughed at him”) ( kbs, gnb, nbv). ein “Da lachten sie ihn aus.” [25] ὅτε δὲ ἐξεβλήθη ὁ ὄχλος εἰσελθὼν ἐκράτησεν τῆς χειρὸς αὐτῆς, καὶ ἠγέρθη τὸ κοράσιον. – The verb ἐκβάλλω (“force to leave, drive out, expel,” BDAG 299; Bauer 477–478; LSJ 501; Montanari 623–624) is commonly used in exorcism stories, but it is highly questionable whether this use is echoed here. The verb is used generally of people sent out (as in Matt 9:38; see the further references in BDAG 299 s.v. ἐκβάλλω 2) or driven out, expelled, with minimal force involved.227 But most versions translate “had been put 224   Phrynichus, Ecl. 56; The New Phrynichus, Being a Revised Text of The Ecloga of the Grammarian Phrynichus with Introductions and Commentary, ed. W. Gunion Rutherford (London: Macmillan, 1881), 148. Also noted by Ulrich Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus (Mt 8–17), 4 vols., EKKNT 1 (Zurich: Benziger; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1990), 51 n.3. 225   Hagner, Matthew, 1:1, has “she is only sleeping” (246), and “she is but sleeping” (250). 226  Cf. Nolland, Matthew, 398, who thinks Matthew employs irony here: “Matthew has created irony by having Jesus make a remark directed towards the future which the crowd takes as directed towards the past. They hear diagnosis, Jesus offers prognosis; they know for a fact that she was dead, Jesus knows for a fact that by restoring her to life he will make this period of death into nothing more than a period of sleep.” 227  Franz Annen, “ἐκβάλλω,” EWNT 1:985–986. Cf. MM 191 (“a weakened force of the verb”).

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outside.” Different from Mark, where it is clear that Jesus put the crowd outside, Matthew uses the passive, “the crowd was driven out, expelled” and leaves the subject open (cf. tob, bfc “quand on eut mis…”; nbv “nadat iedereen was weggestuurd”; ein “man). kbs has the active force (“Toen Hij de mensen naar buiten had gestuurd”) and renders the collective “crowd” by a plural (“de mensen”). “The voice changes from active to passive because Matthew has made Jesus order their departure already; the crowd ‘was thrown out’ by the authoritative command ‘Depart’.” 228 The words ὁ ὄχλος refer to the crowd of people in v. 23; αὐτῆς (referring to v. 24, a constructio ad sensum) anticipates τὸ κοράσιον. A number of versions feel an unease with the sequence and explicate αὐτή, but changing the order of subject: “he took the girl by the hand and she got up” (niv; also nlt; kbs , gnb , nbv; ein; lnd; nrv), by substituting the first subject by the same subject (lsg “prit la main de la jeune fille, et la jeune fille se leva,” also neg), or by substituting a variant term (tob “prit la main de l’enfant et la fillete se réveilla”). Matthew does not refer to an act of Jesus laying on his hands upon the girl as the father had requested (v. 18), but simply states that Jesus “took her by the hand” (net translates freely “gently took her by the hand”).229 nlb leaves αὐτῆς untranslated: “ergriff es bei der Hand.” As a result, “the girl got up” (esv, kjv “arose,” all major English versions translate the pass. ἠγέρθη actively). In line with the saying of Jesus in v. 24, some versions translate “she woke up” (“het meisje ontwaakte,” lei, nbg; tob “se réveilla”), maintaining the metaphor of death as sleep more explicitly.230 [26] καὶ ἐξῆλθεν ἡ φήμη αὕτη εἰς ὅλην τὴν γῆν ἐκείνην. – The coordinate conjunction καί has been left untranslated in a number of modern versions.231 The rather neutral ἐξῆλθεν “(the report) went out” is usually rendered here with an active force (Bauer 1707 “die Kunde hiervon ging aus”), 232 but BDAG prefers the passive translation, “the news of this was spread” (BDAG 1052), cf. also tnt (“was noysed”) and gnb (“werd bekend”).233 The word φήμη means “report, news” (BDAG 1052; cf. Montanari 2267; most of the older English versions have “fame”). In most translations “this report” has evolved into “the report of this” or a similar construction.234 Tyndale   Gundry, Matthew, 175.  Contra Luz, Matthäus, 2:54: “sie geschieht genauso, wie der .. in V 18 erbeten hat.” 230   nrd: “en het meisje wordt wakker.” 231   niv, nlt; lei, kbs, nbv; lsg, neg, tob; lnd, iep. 232   “went” (pnt, gnv, web, rsv, esv), “went forth” (ylt, asv), “went out” (dby, bbe, nkj), “went abroad” (kjv, dra), or “spread” (njb, niv, net, nab, nrsv), “swept” (nlt), or “erscholl” (nlb). 233   Some Dutch translations have a reflexive mood: “verbreidde zich” (nbg), “verspreidde zich” (kbs, nbv). 234   NSS 1:50: “Die Nachricht davon.” In Dutch: “het gerucht hiervan” (lei, luv), “de roep hierover” (nbg), “de faam hiervan” (kbs, nrd), “het verhaal hierover” (nbv). Only sv (“dit gerucht”) and gnb (“dat nieuws”) maintain the literal construction. Note that the old Dutch “gerucht” has a more negative connotation in modern Dutch than in the original Dutch and the 228 229

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changed the whole sentence into a verbal construct “and this was noysed through out all that lande” (tnt). The phrase ὅλην τὴν γῆν ἐκείνην is a case of homoioteleuton (LEH 120 refers to Zech 2:16 πᾰσαν τὴν γῆν “the whole earth, everybody”). Translations vary from rendering γῆ as “land” and “country” (dra) in the older English versions, 235 to “district” (rsv, nrsv, esv), “region” (niv, net), and “countryside” (njb, nlt) in the newer ones.236

D. Lexical, Syntactical and Semantic Notes on Luke 8:40–56 1. Translation Matters in Luke 8:40–42 [40] Ἐν δὲ τῷ ὑποστρέφειν τὸν Ἰησοῦν ἀπεδέξατο αὐτὸν ὁ ὄχλος· ἦσαν γὰρ πάντες προσδοκῶντες αὐτὸν.237 – Ἐν δὲ τῷ ὑποστρέφειν τὸν Ἰησοῦν “Now when Jesus returned.” 238 In the New Testament, ἐν (δὲ) τῷ with an articular infinitive (Moule, Idiom-Book, 128) is characteristic of Lukan vocabulary and, although it reflects the influence of Hebrew or Aramaic, it is abundantly found in LXX Greek and thus probably best taken as a Septuagintism (cf. LEH 120–121) or as a “biblical Hebraism.” 239 The older versions read καὶ ἐγένετο “and it came to pass” (“en het geschiedde,” sv, luv). Some translations contract the phrase to a prepositional phrase (and relocate the subject to the main clause): “on his return” (njb), “à son retour” (lsg, fbj, tob); “al suo ritorno” (nrv), “bij Jezus’ terugkeer” (lei), “bij zijn terugkeer” (gnb). The verb ὑποστρέφω “turn back, return” (see LSJ 1896; Montanari 2233; cf. the LXX references in LEH 638) is used here absolutely, with the place from which Jesus returns to be inferred from the context, viz. the land of Greek. bgt translates “Het verhaal over het meisje werd bekend in het hele land.” (my emphasis) 235   tnt, pnt, gnv, kjv, web, ylt, dby, asv, bbe, nkj, nab. 236   In Dutch: “land” (sv, lei, luv), “streek” (nbg, kbs), “omgeving” (gnb, nbv), “landstreek” (nrd). German translation have “Gegend” (ein, elb) and “Land” (lut, mnt), French “pays” (drb), “contrée” (lsg, neg) and “région” (tob, bfc). 237   Nigel Turner, “The Style of Luke-Acts,” in Moulton, Grammar, 4:45–63; NSS 1:405–408; Adelbert Denaux and Rita Corstjens in collaboration with Hellen Mardaga, The Vocabulary of Luke: An Alphabetical Presentation and a Survey of Characteristic and Noteworthy Words and Word Groups in Luke’s Gospel, BTS 10 (Leuven: Peeters, 2009); Mikeal C. Parsons, Martin M. Culy, and Joshua J. Stigall, Luke: A Handbook on the Greek Text, BHGNT (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2010), 284–295; Albert Hogeterp and Adelbert Denaux, Semitisms in Luke’s Greek: A Descriptive Analysis of Lexical and Syntactical Domains of Semitic Language Influence in Luke’s Gospel, WUNT 401 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2018). 238   François Bovon, L’Évangile selon saint Luc 1–9, 4 vols., CNT 3a (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 1991), 430: “Lors du retour de Jésus.” 239  Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Gospel according to Luke I–IX: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, 2 vols., AB 28 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1981), 119–120; Adelbert Denaux and Rita Corstjens, Vocabulary of Luke, 212–213 (including further literature); Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms, 363–377 (“biblical Hebraism, 376”).

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the Gerasenes (v. 26). nlt interprets “on the other side of the lake” [also bfc “revint sur l’autre rive du lac”; ein “als Jesus (ans andere Ufer) zurückkam”]. As in v. 37, the narrator’s perspective is the western coast of the Sea of Galilee.240 The use of the present infinitive ὑποστρέφειν (rather than an aorist infinitive) is a bit awkward (“while Jesus was returning, the crowd welcomed him”), but Moulton suggests that the distinction between aorist and present forms is not rigid.241 The verb ἀποδέχομαι means “to receive someone favorably, welcome” (BDAG 109; Bauer 179; LSJ 196; Montanari 246; cf. LEH 66, only in the later LXX writings). The positive connotation of ἀποδέχομαι, made explicit in versions that either translate “welcomed him” or “gladly received him” ( kjv, web, dby, bbe “were glad to see him,” rwb), 242 strengthens the positive connotation of προσδοκῶντες. 243 The verb προσδοκάω means “to give thought for something that is viewed as lying in the future, wait for, look for, expect,” and “the context indicates whether one does this in longing, in fear, or in a neutral state of mind” (BDAG 877; Bauer 1427 “erwarten, sei es voll Hoffnung, sei es in Furcht od. auch in neutraler Gemütsverfassung,” LSJ 1506–1507; Montanari 1800; cf. the LXX references in LEH 522). For ὁ ὄχλος most older English versions have “the people” 244 or “the multitude.” 245 Most modern versions translate “the crowd.” 246 The Syriac has “a great crowd” (Kiraz, CESG 3:157; Wilson, Luke, 456). German versions usually render ὁ ὄχλος as “das Volk,” as if it read ὁ λάος. ein has “viele Menschen,” thereby avoiding the following constructio ad sensum.247 mnt has “die Volksmenge.” In context, the definite article, ignored by the translators of niv and gwn, must refer back to 8:4, 19.248 The conjunction γάρ explains why the crowd is welcoming Jesus.249 ein compensates the absent explanatory “for” by a semicolon (cf. also gwn).   bgt translates “Toen Jezus terugkwam in Galilea.”   James Hope Moulton, Wilbert Francis Howard and Nigel Turner, A Grammar of New Testament Greek, 4 vols. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1963), 3:145. Also Ian Howard Marshall, Commentary on Luke, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978), 342; cf. Parsons, Culy and Stigall, Luke, 285: “Pres act inf ὑποστρέφω. Used with ἐν τῷ to denote contemporaneous time (see also 1:8 on ἱερατεύειν…). 242   See also r60, lba “le recibió con gozo,” rva, r95. nrd: “heet de schare hem welkom.” Also NSS 1:406. 243  Cf. nrd: “want allen zijn ze veel van hem gaan verwachten.” Heinz Schürmann, Das Lukasevangelium 1: Kommentar zu Kapitel 1,1–9,50, 2 vols., HThKNT 3 (Freiburg: Herder, 1969, 21984), 489: “vermutlich denkt Lukas, der Mk 6,53–56 gelesen hat: auf Wunder bedacht.” 244   tnt, pnt, gnv, kjv, web, bbe, rwb. 245   ylt, erv, dra, asv, nasb, nkj. 246   dby, rsv, nab, njb, nrsv, cjb, esv, hcsb, net. niv and gwn read “a crowd” (also Fitzmyer, Luke 1:745); nlt has “the crowds” (plural). 247  Cf. bgt “werd hij door veel mensen begroet. Ze hadden allemaal op hem gewacht.” 248  So Fitzmyer, Luke, 1:745. 249   Parsons, Culy and Stigall, Luke, 285: “causal.” 240 241

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Πάντες is a constructio ad sensum, ἦσαν … προσδοκῶντες a constructio periphrastica [cf. Chariton, Chaer. 7.4.3 (G.P. Goold; LCL 481:338–339): εἶναι προσδοκῶντες].250 Occasionally the active προσδοκῶντες is rendered as a passive: he “was welcomed by the crowd” (njb).251 Some versions render the pres. ptc. as a pluperfect: “they had been waiting for him” (nlt).252 [41] καὶ ἰδοὺ ἦλθεν ἀνὴρ ᾧ ὄνομα Ἰάϊρος καὶ οὗτος ἄρχων τῆς συναγωγῆς ὑπῆρχεν, καὶ πεσὼν παρὰ τοὺς πόδας [τοῦ] Ἰησοῦ παρεκάλει αὐτὸν εἰσελθεῖν εἰς τὸν οἶκον αὐτοῦ, – The interjection ἰδού “behold, look, see” is a prompter of attention that serves to enliven the narrative (BDAG 468; Bauer 753– 754; LSJ 819; Montanari 965). According to Hogeterp and Denaux, the employment of καὶ ἰδού in narration “constitutes the clearest case of a biblical Hebraism” in Luke.253 njb translates “suddenly,” nrsv, hcsb “just then,” and bbe , niv, cjb , net, nlt “then,” leaving καί untranslated (ein, hrd “da”; lei , wv “daar”; gnb “toen”). Conversely, rsv, nab and esv leave ἰδού untranslated. bfc has “alors.” The bleak ἦλθεν (indic. aor. act. 3 sg. from ἔρχομαι) is contextually interpreted by nab “came forward” ( kbs “trad naar voren,” wv “kwam naar voren”); gwn “arrived” (fbj, bfc “arriva”); net “came up.” nbv has restructured the sentence by splitting ἦλθεν into two verbs: “Er was ook een man onder hen die Jaïrus heette … Hij kwam op Jezus af ” (“There was a man called Jairus … He approached Jesus”). The man (ἀνήρ) is identified as Ἰάϊρος “Jairus” (cjb Ya’ir), ἄρχων τῆς συναγωγῆς, “a ruler of the synagogue” ( bbe “a ruler in the Synagogue”) or “a leader of the synagogue” (gwn “a synagogue leader”). The words καὶ οὗτος, a personal pronoun (cf. v. 42 καὶ αὐτή) before the verb and a complement, serve to further highlight Jairus’s (high) status.254 For the name Jairus, see the notes on Mark 5:22. It is doubtful whether Luke would be alert to or interested in the meaning of the name.255 The article before 250  Cf. Bovon, Luc, 1:430: “car ils étaient tous en train de l’attendre.” Greijdanus, Lukas, 1:392: “De conjug. periphrast. [ἦσαν προσδοκῶντες] drukt uit, dat dit wachten reeds eenigen tijd duurde.” Parsons, Culy and Stigall, Luke, 284: “for everyone was waiting for him.” According to Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms, 410, the periphrastic imperfect in this verse “serves as explanatory clause for Jesus being welcomed by the crowd at his return and underlines their waiting for Jesus” (see 401–415 for a more comprehensive discussion of Luke’s employment of the periphrastic imperfect). 251  Also lsg, neg, tob “fut reçu par la foule”; fbj “fut accueilli par la foule”; nrv “fu accolto dalla follo”; cab “fue bien acogido por la multitud”; kbs “door het volk werd ontvangen,” wv “werd Hij door de menigte opgewacht,” gnb, nbv. 252   Also “sie hatten alle schon auf ihn gewartet” (ein); “ze hadden allemaal naar Hem uitgezien” (wv), “iedereen had naar hem uit staan kijken” (gnb). 253   Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms, 212 (cf. 302–212). 254   Parsons, Culy and Stigall, Luke, 285–286: “The marked word order, with both the subject (οὗτος) and the complement (ἄρχων) preceding the verb (ὑπῆρχεν), serves to highlight further the important status of Jairus.” 255   Schürmann, Lukasevangelium, 1:489–490 n.128.

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συναγωγῆς is either generic, referring to the institution of the synagogue (so seemingly most translations), or specific, referring to the local synagogue, presumably at Capernaum (so nlt “a leader of the local synagogue”; bfc “chef de la synagogue locale”). 256 Only a few translations do not add an indefinite article before ἄρχων (“he was president of the synagogue,” njb, cjb; the French translations, “il était chef…”; German “er war Vorsteher der Synagoge,” elo, elb, hrd; Dutch kbs “overste van de synagoge,” wv “hoofd van de synagoge”). Most translations leave undecided whether synagogues (or this particular synagogue) were led by one or more leaders. gnv has “he was the ruler of the Synagogue,” in contrast with “een van de bestuurders van de synagoge” (gnb). nbv has “een leider van een synagoge.” ein avoids the whole problem: “Jaïrus, der Synagogenvorsteher war.” Alternative translations include “a chief of the synagogue” ( ylt), “an official of the synagogue” (nab, nasb), “president of the synagogue” (njb, cjb), “ein Oberster der Schule” (lb), “Vorsteher der Synagoge” (elo), and “un alto dignatario de la sinagoga” (r 95). On the basis of Luke’s supposed (lack of) local knowledge of Capernaum and of Galilee as a whole (or lack of it), it is difficult to decide on this matter, at any rate. The verb ὑπῆρχεν means “to be in a state or circumstance, be, as a widely used substitute in H. Greek for εἶναι” (BDAG 1029; Bauer 1669–1670; LSJ 1853–1854).257 Πεσὼν παρὰ τοὺς πόδας κτλ. reveals an alliteration of π-sounds, as in the Markan parallel. Πεσών, ptc. aor. act. nom. sg. from πίπτω, expresses subordinate action, “having fallen at the feet of Jesus” ( ylt); πεσὼν … παρεκάλει “having fallen … he begged.” Most translations create two coordinate clauses: “he felt down and begged him…” niv and nlt have the reverse: “fell … pleading with him.” The prep. παρά + acc. means “near, at” (BDAG 757). gwn interprets “quickly bowed down.” John Nolland perceptively translates “this man was a ruler of the synagogue, and yet (καί) he fell at the feet of Jesus,” thereby highlighting the unexpectedness of Jairus’s action (cf. also BDAG 495, with numerous examples of this use of καί).258 The impf. παρεκάλει expresses the intensity of the act of beseeching, “he was beseeching continuously” (iterative impf.).259 Parsons, Culy and Stigall takes it as an ingressive impf., “he began pleading with him.” 260 256  Cf. Greijdanus, Lukas, 1:393: “τῆς zal aangeven, dat hier, te Kapernaüm, slechts ééne synagoge was; vgl. ook 7:5.” Parsons, Culy and Stigall, Luke, 286 call τῆς συναγωγῆς a “genitive of subordination.” 257   nrd translates somewhat surprisingly: “hij is de overste van de samenkomst geweest,” implying, at least in Dutch, that Jairus was no longer a synagogue-leader. For a similar matter, see above, at Mark 5:40 (“daar waar het kind geweest is”). 258  John Nolland, Luke 9:21–18:34, WBC 35B (Dallas: Word, 1993), 415. 259   Greijdanus, Lukas, 1:393: παρεκάλει “Het imperf. zal het dringende en aanhoudende uitdrukken.” 260   Parsons, Culy and Stigall, Luke, 284, 286, with reference to their comments on 1:59.

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Whether εἰσελθεῖν εἰς τὸν οἶκον should be rendered “to come to his house” (nbg, kbs, wv, gnb, nbv “mee te gaan naar zijn huis”) or “to come into his house” (nlb; sv, luv, lei “in zijn huis te komen”) is hard to decide. [42] ὅτι θυγάτηρ μονογενὴς ἦν αὐτῷ ὡς ἐτῶν δώδεκα καὶ αὐτὴ ἀπέθνῃσκεν. Ἐν δὲ τῷ ὑπάγειν αὐτὸν οἱ ὄχλοι συνέπνιγον αὐτόν. – The reason (ὅτι) for Jairus’s request to Jesus to come (in)to his house – different from Mark, expressed in indirect speech 261 – is that his twelve-year old θυγάτηρ μονογενής (ὡς “used with numerals to indicate approximation”)262 was dying. The Greek θυγάτηρ μονογενής (Vulg. filia unica) is ambivalent (as in pnt “for he had but one daughter only”). Was the girl his “only child, a daughter” (so made explicit in some translations): “sein einziges Kind, ein Mädchen von etwa zwölf Jahren” (ein); “een enig kind, een meisje van ongeveer twaalf jaar” (lei); “zijn enig kind, een dochter van een jaar of twaalf” [wv; cf. kbs: “hij had maar een dochter, een kind van een jaar of twaalf” (!)]; “hij had een dochter van ongeveer twaalf jaar oud … ze was zijn enige kind” (nbv)῞?263 Or was she “his only daughter” (implying that he may have had sons, an option at least kept open by e.g. pnt, web “he had one daughter only”)? Bovon subtly points to the social repercussions of Jairus’s situation having a single daughter/child in a context of large families.264 Ἀπέθνῃσκεν (indic. impf. act. 3 sg. from ἀποθνῄσκω) means “to cease to have vital functions, whether at an earthly or transcendent level, die,” Luke 8:42 ἀπέθνῃσκεν “was about to die,” as in Josephus, Ant. 5.4” (BDAG 111; Bauer 182; LSJ 199). Zerwick comments on the use of the imperfect: “Not infrequently the imperfect denotes an attempt which was not carried into effect, i.e. the tendency to an end though the action denoted by the verb as such (apart from its aspect) was not in fact performed … The daughter of Jairus ‘was dying.’” 265 Cf. v. 49 τέθνηκεν ἡ θυγάτηρ σου. For the typically Lukan ἐν δὲ τῷ ὑπάγειν, see v. 40. That αὐτόν refers to Jesus is made explicit in niv, gwn, esv, net, nlt; lsg, neg, tob, bfc; ein; nvi; wv, gnb , gnb , nbv. Some versions use capitalization to identify Jesus as subject (e.g. nasb, nkj, hcsb; sv, nbg, kbs; afr).A number of versions treat δέ as 261  Still, bgt renders Jairus’s request in direct speech: “Ga alstublieft mee naar mijn huis. Mijn dochter gaat dood!” 262   BDAG 1105; Parsons, Culy and Stigall, Luke, 286. 263   So also Greijdanus, Lukas, 1:393: “Hij had eene dochter, die hem een eenigst kind was.” NSS 1:406. 264   Bovon, Luc, 1:435–436. 265   Zerwick, Biblical Greek, 92 (§ 273). Cf. Albert Fuchs, “Schrittweises Wachstum: Zur Entwicklung der Perikope Mk 5,21–43 par Mt 9, 18–26 par Lk 8, 40–56,” SNTSU 17 (1992): 23– 24: “Man wird … das Imperfekt des Lk ἀπέθνῃσκεν der Sache nach genau so übersetzen müssen wie den weniger gewählten Ausdruck des Mk, nämlich mit ‘sie lag im Sterben’ und nicht ‘sie ist gestorben,’ wie man den mt Ausdruck wiedergeben muß.” Also Klein, Lukasevangelium, 323: “Das Imperfekt zeigt an, daß der Tod noch nicht eingetroffen ist, aber bevorsteht.” Bock, Luke, 1:792: ἀπέθνῃσκεν “an ingressive imperfect.”

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an adversative: “but as he was going.” 266 Other versions leave δέ untranslated.267 Luke usually uses the plural οἱ ὄχλοι for the crowds in a more negative sense. συνέπνιγον (indic. impf. act. 3 pl. from συμπνίγω, cf. v. 14; LSJ 1685; Montanari 2010) is used here “as a hyperbolic expr. for ‘crowd around, press upon,’ someth. like ‘almost crush’ (Goodsp.)” (BDAG 959; Bauer 1556). The imperfect is used in its customary (depictive) sense. Cf. “the crowds were nearly crushing him” ( hcsb). nbv gives the impf. an ingressive nuance: “begonnen de mensen van alle kanten te duwen.” 2. Translation Matters in Luke 8:43–48 [43] Καὶ γυνὴ οὖσα ἐν ῥύσει αἵματος ἀπὸ ἐτῶν δώδεκα ἥτις [ἰατροῖς προσαναλώσασα ὅλον τὸν βίον] οὐκ ἴσχυσεν ἀπ᾽ οὐδενὸς θεραπευθῆναι, – The connective καί is taken as a temporal conjunction, “now (there was)” (nkj, njb, nrsv, net; cf. lsg, fbj, neg “or”), or it is left untranslated (gwn, hcsb , nlt; tob , bfc; hrd; wv; nbv), or it is understood as more emphatically connecting the next scene to what precedes: “darunter (sc. unter den Menschen) war eine Frau” (ein); “entre la gente” (nvi), “onder hen” (sc. onder de mensen) (gnb). The older German versions have “Weib” instead of “Frau” for γυνή (lb, elo, luo). ἀπὸ (ἐτῶν δώδεκα), “since twelve years.” 268 Most versions translate “for twelve years,” as if it said δώδεκα ἔτη (= Mark 5:25). For γυνὴ οὖσα ἐν ῥύσει αἵματος, see the notes on Mark 5:25.269 The antecedent of the relative pronoun ἥτις (fem. sg.) is γυνή. The participle clause ἰατροῖς (= dativus commodi) προσαναλώσασα ὅλον τὸν βίον (“having spent all she had on physicians,” under the circumstances the normal way to do) may well be taken as concessive: “though she had spent all she had on physicians” (nrsv; also esv; elo, elb “obgleich”; nbv “al had ze haar hele kapitaal aan artsen uitgegeven” 270 (its textual status, though, is disputed, see Appendix 1: Text and Transmission). On further literature on ancient attitudes toward physicians, see BDAG 465, s.v. ἰατρός. Προσαναλώσασα ptc. aor. act. nom. sg. fem. from προσαναλίσκω / προσαναλόω means “spend in addition, spend lavishly” (BDAG 876, “who had spent all her assets on physicians”; Bauer 1425; LSJ 1501; Montanari 1792). In ὅλον τὸν βίον, βίος refers to “resources needed to maintain life, means of subsistence” (BDAG 177 Bauer 283; LSJ 316; Montanari 388; see also 15:12, 30; 21:4; Mark 12:44;  So pnt, kjv, web, erv, asv, bbe, nasb, nkj, gwn, rwb; elo (“indem er aber”), sch, elb, mnt.  So rsv, nab, niv, njb, nrsv, gwn, cjb, esv, hcsb, net, nlt; lsg, neg, tob, bfc; ein, hrd; lei, nbg, kbs, wv, gnb, nbv. 268   Greijdanus, Lukas, 1:394: ἀπὸ ἐτῶν δώδεκα “Het getal achteraan met nadruk.” Cf. nlb: “Und eine Frau hatte den Blutfluß seit zwölf Jahren.” 269  And also Michael Wolter, Das Lukasevangelium, HNT 5 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 325–326. 270   Also concessive Parsons, Culy and Stigall, Luke, 287. Greijdanus, Lukas, 1:394, translates: “Al haar bezit had zij verdokterd.” 266 267

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LXX references in LEH 108). The double negation οὐκ … ἀπ᾽ οὐδενός “not … by no one,” means “not by anyone.” The verb ἰσχύω means “to have requisite personal resources to accomplish someth., have power, be competent, be able” (BDAG 484; Bauer 778; LSJ 844; Montanari 994);271 θεραπευθῆναι is the inf. aor. pass. from θεραπεύω “heal, restore” (“she could not be healed by anybody,” BDAG 453; Bauer 729 “sie hatte von niemandem geheilt werden können”; LSJ 792–793; Montanari 935–936). The prep. ἀπό takes here the place of ὑπό, denoting the responsible agents (BDAG 107; Bauer 176).272 Cf. hcsb “yet could not be healed.” [44] προσελθοῦσα ὄπισθεν ἥψατο τοῦ κρασπέδου τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ καὶ παραχρῆμα ἔστη ἡ ῥύσις τοῦ αἵματος αὐτῆς. – For the first part of this verse, see the notes on Mark 5:27 and Matt 9:20 (τοῦ κρασπέδου). Some scholars hold that Luke is unlikely to have understood the κρασπέδον of Jesus’s cloak as the typical fringes of the Jewish prayer mantle, given Luke’s Hellenistic background.273 Cf. the cautious judgement of Hans Klein: “Ob mit dem Ausdruck [κρασπέδον τοῦ ἱματίου] angezeigt werden soll, daß Jesu Gewand Quasten hatte, läßt sich kaum mehr feststellen.” 274 Apart from an obvious Jewish background (as in Mark and Matthew), the word can well be understood by a wider non-Jewish readership, e.g. Athenaeus, Deipn. 4.159, where Chrysippus refers to “an extremely wealthy young man from Ionia [who] visited Athens wearing a purple robe with a gold fringe (τινα ἐκ τῆς Ἰωνίας σφόδρα πλούσιον ἐπιδημῆσαι ταῖς Ἀθήναις πορφυρίδα ἠμφιεσμένον ἔχουσαν χρυσᾶ κράσπεδα).” 275 If Luke had Mark’s Gospel in front of him, the addition of τοῦ κρασπέδου (if that is what it is), 276 need not necessarily be taken as an attempt to stress the Jewish element, at any rate. The adverb παραχρῆμα means “pert. to a point of time that is immediately subsequent to an action, at once, immediately” (BDAG 773; Bauer 1260; LSJ 1331; Montanari 1573 “on the spur of the moment, at the moment, on the instant”). 271   Greijdanus, Lukas, 1:394: “Met den aoristus ἴσχυσεν overziet Lucas de twaalf jaren als een afgesloten tijdvak, en doelt hij niet op het lange verloop daarvan.” 272   Parsons, Culy and Stigall, Luke, 287: “In contrast to Attic Greek, Koine Greek sometimes used ἀπό rather than ὑπό to introduce the agent of a passive verb (Caragounis, 115; see also 6:18; 7:35; 9:22; 17:25).” 273   Trummer, Die blutende Frau, 105: “Allerdings entfällt für Lukas und dessen heiden­ christliches Milieu jede mögliche Anspielung auf die Bedeutung ‘Quaste’, sondern für seine Hörer handelt es sich wohl eindeutig um den ‘Saum’ des jesuanischen Gewandes.” Note that nrd translates here “de franje van zijn kleed,” and “de zoom van zijn kleed” in Matt 9:20. 274   Klein, Lukasevangelium, 323 n.27. A view more strongly rejected by Wolter, Lukas­ evangelium, 326: “sicher nicht.” bgt translates “de rand van zijn jas.” 275   Athenaeus, Deipn. 4.159 (Olson, LCL 208:262–263). See further the references in LSJ 990, and Suppl 185; Montanari 1171. 276   But see our comments on τοῦ κρασπέδου as a pre-Markan orality marker in Chapter 5: Orality and Performance, and on its disputed textual status in Appendix 1: Text and Transmission under Luke 8:44.

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Ἔστη [indic. aor. act. 3 sg. from ἵστημι “to desist from movement and be in a stationary position, stand still, stop” (BDAG 482)] here means: “stopped.” ἡ ῥύσις τοῦ αἵματος αὐτῆς can be taken to mean “the flow of her blood” (αὐτῆς referring to τοῦ αἵματος)277 or “her flow of blood” (rsv, αὐτῆς referring to ἡ ῥύσις κτλ.),278 or may be understood as a hendiadys for “her bleeding.” 279 [45] καὶ εἶπεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς· τίς ὁ ἁψάμενός μου; ἀρνουμένων δὲ πάντων εἶπεν ὁ Πέτρος· ἐπιστατα, οἱ ὄχλοι συνέχουσίν σε καὶ ἀποθλίβουσιν. – While most versions take καί as a simple coordinating conjunction, fbj takes it as an adversative (“mais”) and some other versions as a temporal conjunction (“then”).280 Others leave it untranslated. In this verse and also in v. 49 and 56, we find some examples of a verb-subject order (v. 45 εἶπεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς … εἶπεν ὁ Πέτρος; v. 49 ἔρχεταί τις … τέθνηκεν ἡ θυγάτηρ; v. 56 ἐξέστησαν οἱ γονεῖς), which suggests to Hogeterp and Denaux the influence of the Semitic context of classical biblical Hebrew and LXX Greek (“Hebraistic biblical Greek influence”).281 Some translations, such as niv, put the question first: “Who touched me?, Jesus asked” (also hcsb, nlt; nvi; gnb). For contextual reasons, εἶπεν is rendered “he asked” in many versions, thereby making explicit that it is a real question.282 More in a narrative mode the question τίς ὁ ἁψάμενός μου; is somewhat elaborated in, e.g., “who is it that touched me?” (tnt et al.). On the other hand, a brief question, “who touched me?,” would also enliven the story. For ὁ ἁψάμενός ptc. pf. act. nom. sg. masc. (!), cf. Mark 5:32, from ἅπτω “to make close contact, touch” (BDAG 126; Bauer 206–207; LSJ 231; Montanari 285). The present tense of the gen. abs. ἀρνουμένων δὲ πάντων (ptc. pres. med. gen. pl. masc. from ἀρνέομαι “to state that something is not true, deny,” BDAG 133; Bauer 216; LSJ 244; Montanari 301; cf. the LXX references in LEH 83), may well be expressed in “while all were denying” (nab, nasb).283 Some ver So ylt, erv, dra, asv, bbe; elo, mnt “der Fluß ihres Blutes”; srv “el flujo de su sangere,” “de vloed haars bloeds.” 278  So tnt “her issue of bloud,” pnt, gnv, kjv, web, dby “her flux of blood,” rsv, nkj, rwb, esv “her discharge of blood”; drb, bfc “sa perte de sang,” fbj “son flux de sang”; lnd “il suo flusso di sangue.” 279 “   her bleeding” (nab, niv, gwn, hcsb), “the bleeding” (net, nlt), “her hemorrhage” (nasb, nrsv), “the haemorrhage” (njb), “her hemorrhaging” (cjb), “son hémorragie” (tob), “der Blutgang” (lB, luo), “die Blutung” (ein), “ihre Blutungen” (hrd, plural), “su hemorragia” (nvi, rva); “hare bloedvloeiing” (luv, kbs, nbv), “(haar) vloeiing” (lei, nbg, τοῦ αἵματος untranslated), “haar vloeiingen” (wv, plural, idem), “de bloeding” (gnb). 280  So gnv, nab, nrsv, net; ein, hrd “da”; srv, r60, rva, r95, cab “entonces”; kbs “nu”; afr “daarop.” 281   Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms, 448–458. They observe a relatively high frequency of a verb-subject order in Luke 1, 2, 4, 8 (!), and 15 (456). 282  So nab, niv, nrsv, gwn, cjb, hcsb, net, nlt; tob, bfc; sch, ein, lut, hrd; nrv, nvi, cab; kbs, wv, gnb, nbv. Bovon, Luc 1:432 takes it as a rhetorical question “parce qu’il sait qui l’a touché (v. 46b).” But contrary to Mark 5:32, this is by no means obvious in Luke. 283   gwn translates “after everyone denied touching him.” 277

r60, lba, r95; sv

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sions explicitly state the object of the denial: they all denied “touching him” (gwn), “doing it” (cjb), “l’avoir fait” ( bfc), “haberlo tocado” (nvi), “haber sido ellos” (cab), “de aanraking” (nbv).284 ὁ Πέτρος is used here with the article because this is the first instance he is mentioned in the immediate context. The vocative ἐπιστάτα (from ἐπιστάτης “master,” but cf. LSJ 659; Montanari 791, for a wider range of meaning) occurs in the New Testament only in Luke, always in the vocative (5:5; 8:24 bis, 45; 9:33, 49; 17:13), nearly always by the disciples (synoptic parallels have διδάσκαλε) (BDAG 381; Bauer 607–608), and, as Hans Klein observes, almost always in the context of miracle stories.285 The present indicative συνέχουσίν (from συνέχω “to press in and around so as to leave little room for movement, press hard, crowd,” BDAG 971; cf. Bauer 1573; LSJ 1714; Montanari 2042; cf. LEH 592). The verb ἀποθλίβω (“esp. of someth., such as a grape, which loses its contents when squeezed,” here means “to apply squeezing pressure, press upon, crowd” [BDAG 111 (not so in Bauer 182); LSJ 199; Montanari 249]. [46] ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς εἴπεν· ἥψατό μού τις, ἐγὼ γὰρ ἔγνων δύναμιν ἐξελη­ λυθυῖαν ἀπ᾽ ἐμοῦ. – In Jesus’s remark ἥψατό μού τις, the verb is placed at the beginning of the sentence, thereby receiving more emphasis (more, at any rate, than the agent): “someone did touch me” ( ylt, erv, asv, nasb, cjb; cf. the German versions “es hat mich jemand berührt”).286 nlt paraphrases “someone deliberately touched me.” In context, ἐγώ is unlikely to be emphatic (so NSS 1:406) unless it it is reflexive: “I felt it myself.” 287 ἔγνων indic. aor. act. 1 sg. from γινώσκω “to be aware of someth., perceive, notice, realize” (BDAG 200; Bauer 322; LSJ 350; Montanari 430–431). Is ἔγνων to be rendered as a present action (“I have come to perceive,” hence “I now perceive,” so e.g. kjv)288 or past action (I perceived at the moment of touching, so, e.g., erv)289? Cf. Zerwick, Biblical Greek 89–90 (§ 268) on the use of the perfect participle. δύναμις, “potential for functioning in some way, power, might, strength, force, capability, … specif. the power that works wonders” (BDAG 262; Bauer 417; cf. also Gerhard Friedrich, in EWNT 1:860–867; LSJ 452; Montanari 558). Ἐξεληλυθυῖαν ptc. pf. pass. acc. sg. fem. from ἐξέρχομαι “go or come out” (LSJ 591–592; Montanari 721).290   bgt translates “Maar niemand zei: ‘Dat was ik.’”   Klein, Lukasevangelium, 208 n.33. 286   Parsons, Culy and Stigall, Luke, 289: γάρ is causal, “introducing the reason Jesus can say someone touched him.” 287  Different: Greijdanus, Lukas, 1:395: v. 46 “met nadruk ἐγὼ, en dat voorop.” 288  So tnt, pnt, gnv, web, rsv, rwb, esv (“I perceive”), dra, nab, niv, gwn, hcsb, net (“I know”); drb “je sais”; lb, luo “ich fühle”; luv “ik gevoel.” Cf. Parsons, Culy and Stigall, Luke, 289: “This need not be viewed as a non-past use of the aorist tense (contra Porter 1989, 227).” 289   Bovon, Luc, 1:438 n.18: “L’aoriste ἔγνων se réfère à l’instant passé où Jésus a senti et constaté qu’une force sortait de lui.” Cf. nlb: “ich habe gespürt, dass eine Kraft von mir ausgegangen ist” (my italics). 290  Cf. Greijdanus, Lukas, 1:395–396: “want Ik merkte kracht van Mij uitgegaan, d.i. dat 284 285

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[47] ἰδοῦσα δὲ ἡ γυνὴ ὅτι οὐκ ἔλαθεν τρέμουσα ἦλθεν καὶ προσπεσοῦσα αὐτῷ δι᾽ ἣν αἰτίαν ἥψατο αὐτοῦ ἀπήγγειλεν ἐνώπιον παντὸς τοῦ λαοῦ καὶ ὡς ἰάθη παραχρῆμα. – Ἰδοῦσα (ptc. aor. act. nom. sg. fem. from ὁράω “see”) may be translated temporally (“when,” tnt, pnt, gnv etc.) or causally [“because,” “da” (lb, elo, luo, nlb); “omdat” wv]. For ἡ γυνή (older German translations translate “das Weib” (lb, elo, luo), modern versions have “die Frau”), see v. 43. Ἔλαθεν is an indic. aor. act. 3 sg. from λανθάνω “to succeed in avoiding attention or awareness, escape notice, be hidden” (BDAG 586; LSJ 1028–1029; Montanari 1213–1214).291 Some versions translate the phrase as a litotes: “that she could not go unnoticed” (niv; cf. the Dutch versions). For τρέμουσα, see the note on Mark 5:33. Προσπεσοῦσα, ptc. aor. act. nom. fem. sg., comes from προσπίπτω “to prostrate oneself before someone, fall down before/at the feet of freq. in the gesture of a suppliant” (BDAG 884; Bauer 1437; LSJ 1523; Montanari 1823). Αἰτία “that which is responsible for a condition, cause, reason,” hence δι᾽ ἣν αἰτίαν “why” (BDAG 31; Bauer 50 “aus welchem Grunde”; LSJ 44; Montanari 59–60) is a condensed construction. “The more typical construction would be προσπεσοῦσα αὐτῷ τὴν αἰτίαν δι᾽ ἣν ἥψατο αὐτοῦ ἀπήγγειλεν.” 292 The aor. ἥψατο may well be taken as a pluperfective past, “she had touched.” ἀπήγγειλεν BDAG (and Bauer 157) gives two options for the meaning of ἀπαγγέλλω in this verse: (1) “to give an account of someth., report (back), announce, tell,” (2) “to make someth. known publicly, proclaim” (BDAG 95: “she confessed before all the people”). On the possible Semitic or biblical background of the preposition ἐνώπιον with a genitive, “before, in the presence of,” see Hogeterp and Denaux.293 For ὡς, see BDR 396.1: “ὡς findet sich fast nur bei Luk. und Paul. und bewahrt die eigentliche Bedeutung ‘wie’ mehr oder weniger deutlich.” The noun λαός refers to “a close gathering of people, crowd” (BDAG 586; kracht van Mij uitging. Bij deze laatste vertaling wordt gezegd, dat het uitgaan der kracht werd gemerkt. Doch de Heere zegt, dat Hij de kracht merkte, en wel als eene van Hem uitgegane … ἐξεληλυθυῖα, partic. perf., de kracht wordt niet gedacht bij haar uitgaan, partic. praes., maar als uitgegaan. De Heere zegt hiermede niet, dat er maar kracht van Hem uitstroomde, die werkte op ieder, die Hem maar aanraakte. Hij deed telkens welbewust die kracht ter genezing van Zich uitgaan.” Also Marshall, Luke, 345–346. Bock, Luke, 1:796, calls it “a consummative perfect.” 291   English versions widely vary: “that she was not hid” (tnt, pnt: “hyd,” gnv, kjv, web, ylt, dby, erv, dra, asv, rwb) or “hidden” (esv, rsv, nkj); “that she was not able to keep it secret” (bbe); “that she had not escaped notice” (nab, nasb); “seeing herself discovered” (njb); “that she could not remain hidden” (nrsv); “that she couldn’t hide” (gwn); “that she could not escape notice” (cjb, net); “that she was discovered” (hcsb); “that she could not stay hidden” (nlt). 292   Parsons, Culy and Stigall, Luke, 290. 293   Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms, 230–243. They conclude: “The identification of ἐνώπιον in Luke’s Greek with a Semitic language background has a general setting in the greater relative frequence of ἐνώπιον in LXX Greek as a stereotyped rendering of in biblical Hebrew, as compared to its attestations in general Greek. Yet identification of ἐνώπιον as biblical Greek depends on a case-by-case basis” (243).

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LSJ 1029–1030; Montanari 1215).294 Ἰάθη indic. aor. mid. dep. (pass.) 3 sg. from ἰάομαι “to restore someone to health after a physical malady, heal, cure” (BDAG 465; Bauer 748; LSJ 815; Montanari 961), “how she was healed” (nlb: “wie sie sogleich gesund geworden war”). Παραχρῆμα, “suddenly, immediately,” 295 repeats what was said in v. 44. [48] ὁ δὲ εἶπεν αὐτῇ· θυγάτηρ, ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε· πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην. – See the comments on Mark 5:34, and cf. Acts 14:9, where a crippled man is said to “have faith to be healed” (ἔχει πίστιν τοῦ σωθῆναι). The introductory words ὁ δὲ εἶπεν αὐτῇ may be taken adversatively (“But he said to her,” dra), as a temporal conjunction (“Then he said to her,” niv, net), or δέ may be left untranslated (“He said to her,” nab, nrsv, gwn; lei, kbs). Some versions explicate the subject of the clause: “Jesus told her” (gwn; wv). Some translations put the vocative at the front: “Daughter, he said to her” ( hcsb, njb “My daughter, nlt). gnb has completely rearranged the entire sentence: “Uw geloof heeft u gered (= ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε), mijn kind (= θυγάτηρ), zei hij tegen haar (= ὁ δὲ εἶπεν αὐτῇ), ga in vrede (= πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην).” Cf. also bgt: “je bent gered dankzij je geloof. Je kunt gerust zijn” [= πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην (!), under the influence of Matt 9:22 θάρσει]. As in the parallel passages, the appellation θυγάτηρ is treated in various ways: either simply “daughter” or, with more affection, “my daughter” (njb, cjb; nlb; luv “mijne dochter,” wv), or “my child” (gnb “mijn kind”). Again, nbv (and bgt) leaves θυγάτηρ untranslated (see the comments on Mark 5:34). The impv. pres. act. 2 sg. from πορεύου, “go in peace” (also in Luke 7:50; Acts 16:36)296 recalls the Old Testament formula of dismissal (1 Sam 1:17; 20:42; 29:7; see LEH 174, s.v. εἰρήνη).297 The phrase πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην is a clear example of “biblical Greek.” 298 3. Translation Matters in Luke 8:49–56 [49] Ἔτι αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος ἔρχεταί τις παρὰ τοῦ ἀρχισυναγώγου λέγων ὅτι τέθνηκεν ἡ θυγάτηρ σου· μηκέτι (v.l. μή) σκύλλε τὸν διδάσκαλον. – The genitive absolute ἔτι αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος (present tense) ties the next scene to the preceding verses: “While (dra “as”) he was still speaking” ( bbe “talking”). niv and gwn explicate “Jesus” (αὐτοῦ) as subject of the genitive absolute. For the verb-subject order (ἔρχεταί τις … τέθνηκεν ἡ θυγάτηρ) see the comments at v. 45. The indic. ἔρχεταί “he comes” is the only instance of the historic present in this pericope. Some older translations retain the present   bgt translates “Iedereen hoorde het.”   Especially the Dutch versions vary: “terstond” (sv; luv; nbg), “dadelijk” (lei), “op hetzelfde ogenblik” (kbs; gnb), “onmiddellijk” (wv; cf. afr “onmiddellik”), “meteen” (nbv). 296   ylt “be going on to peace”; dra “go thy way in peace”; Dutch: “ga heen in vrede” or “ga in vrede” (lei “en vrede zij met u”). nrd has “ga heen tot vrede,” referring to 1 Sam 1:17. 297   Fitzmyer, Luke, 1:692. 298   Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms, 169–173 with references. 294 295

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tense (“there cometh,” kjv, web, erv, dra, asv; ylt “there doth come”; dby “comes”; cf. afr “Terwyl Hy nog spreek, kom daar iemand”). τις “someone” [rsv and cjb “a man” (!)299; nlt “a messenger”].300 The translation of τις παρὰ τοῦ ἀρχισυναγώγου (lit. “from the synagogue leader”) in English versions illustrates the wide variety of possibilities (or rather of interpretive choices to be made) of rendering a relatively simple construction of four relatively easy Greek words into another language. The translator has to decide on here a number of details, such the missing word to be supplied after παρά (house, home), the precise function of Jairus (depending on a number of exegetical and historical questions), the overall construction of the words, the gender of the messenger (τις), and so on and so forth: one from the ruler of the synagogue’s house ( pnt, gnv, kjv, erv, asv) someone from the ruler of the synagogue’s house (nkj) one from the rulers (sic) of the synagogis housse (tnt) one from the house of the ruler of the synagogue (web, rwb) someone from the house of the ruler of the synagogue ( bbe) a certain one from the chief of the synagogue’s house ( ylt) some one from the ruler of the synagogue (dby) one to (!) the ruler of the synagogue (dra) a man from the ruler’s house (rsv) someone from the ruler’s house (esv) someone from the synagogue official’s house (nab) someone from the house of the synagogue official (nasb) someone from the house of Jairus (sic), the synagogue ruler (niv) someone from the house of the president of the synagogue (njb) someone from the leader’s house (nrsv) someone from the synagogue leader’s home (gwn) a man (!) from the synagogue president’s house (cjb) someone from the synagogue leader’s house ( hcsb) someone from the synagogue ruler’s house (net) a messenger from the home of Jairus (sic), the leader of the synagogue (nlt).301

299   So also Bock, Luke, 1:799: “As Jesus finishes addressing the woman, a man appears from the synagogue leader’s home…” (my italics). 300  Cf. bgt “kwam er iemand met een bericht voor Jaïrus.” 301   In Dutch translations, there is a comparable variety: “van het huis des oversten der synagoge” (sv, italics original); “van het huisgezin van den overste der synagoge” (luv); “uit het huis van het hoofd der synagoge” (lei); “van de overste der synagoge” (nbg); “uit het huis van de overste van de synagoge” (kbs); “uit het huis van de synagogebestuurder” (gnb); “uit het huis van Jaïrus tegen de leider van de synagoge zeggen” (nbv), “van het huis van het hoofd van de synagoge” (hsv, italics original). nrd has “… of daar komt iemand bij (sic) de samenkomstoverste en zegt…” Note especially wv: “hij was nog niet uitgesproken of de voorzitter van de synagoge kreeg van thuis het bericht…” (“he had hardly finished speaking, when the president of the synagogue received a message from home…”). Wolter, Lukasevangelium, 327–328, suggests that it was a family member (“einen Familienangehörigen”)

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Τέθνηκεν, indic. pf. act. 3 sg. from θνῄσκω, means “to pass from physical life, die” (BDAG 457; Bauer 736; LSJ 802; Montanari 946), the perfect tense expressing completed action (resultative perfect) (BDR 340): “she is dead.”302 Note that in v. 42 the more intensive form ἀποθνῄσκω “to cease to have vital functions, whether at an earthly or transcendent level, die” (BDAG 111; Bauer 182; LSJ 199; Montanari 249) was used. The adv. μηκέτι means “no longer, not from now on” (BDAG 647; Bauer 1049 “nicht mehr, nicht weiter, hinfort nicht”; LSJ 1126; Montanari 1340).303 Σκύλλε impv. pres. act. 2 sg.; the imperative mood expresses a request or polite command.304 Different from v. 45, where Peter (an insider) addressed Jesus as ἐπιστάτης, Jesus is now being spoken of as τὸν διδάσκαλον, “the master” or “the teacher” (“the rabbi,” cjb), notably so by an outsider.305 [50] ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς ἀκούσας ἀπεκρίθη αὐτῷ· μὴ φοβοῦ, μόνον πίστευσον, καὶ σωθήσεται. – Ἀκούσας, to be supplied with ταῦτα (NSS 1:407), i.e. what was said to Jairus. ἀπεκρίθη indic. aor. mid. 3 sg. from ἀποκρίνομαι “answer, reply” (BDAG 113), here not to answer a question but to react to what was said to Jairus (cf. Bauer 187 “hebrais. v.d. Fortführung d. Rede”; LSJ 204). Although strictly speaking αὐτῷ may refer to the messenger from the house, in context it is far more likely that Jesus addresses Jairus.306 For μὴ φοβοῦ, μόνον π., see the notes on Mark 5:36. Different from Mark, Luke employs the aor. impv. πίστευσον (from πιστεύω), which may well be to stress the act of faith,307 or emphasize the need to start believing.308 The conjunction καί expresses the hoped-for or intended result: “and she309 will be

  Cf. less accurate “hath died” (ylt), “has died” (nasb, njb, cjb); “is gestorven” (sv, luv, lei,

302

nbg, kbs, wv, gnb, nbv).

  nrd seems to read μή: “kwel de leermeester niet.”   (Older versions read μη σκύλλε): “disease not…” (tnt, pnt, gnv); “trouble not…” (kjv, web, erv, dra, asv); “harass not…” (ylt); “do not trouble” (dby, nkj). Further: “do not go on troubling” (bbe); “do not trouble … any more” (rsv, nasb, esv) or “any longer” (nab, nrsv, net), or “any further” (njb); “don’t bother … any more” (niv, gwn, cjb, hcsb); “There’s no use troubling… now” (nlt). Dutch translations have: “zijt den Meester niet moeielijk” (sv), “doe … geen moeite aan” (luv), “val … niet meer lastig” (lei, nbg), “val … niet langer lastig” (kbs, wv, nbv), “val … maar niet langer lastig” (gnb), “val… niet lastig” (hsv). 305   Dutch: “de meester” (sv, luv, nbg, kbs, wv, gnb, nbv); “de leraar” (lei). 306  Cf. Bovon, Luc, 1:439: “αὐτῷ, ‘à lui’ désigne naturellement, malgré la grammaire, le père de l’enfant” (my emphasis). Cf. also Bovon, Luc, 1:433 n.19. 307  So also Fitzmyer, Luke, 1:748. Zerwick, Biblical Greek 79 (§242): “Luke’s aorist [πίστευσον] expresses an act to be posited, and so may perhaps be rendered “make an act of faith” (conceive faith greater than you have before hearing of the girl’s death).” 308  “start to believe,” Moulton, Grammar 3:75; Marshall, Luke, 347. Bovon, Luc, 1:432: “Probablement parce que, pour lui, Jaïrus ne croyait pas encore.” Cf. also Bock, Luke, 1:800: “Luke’s tense is slightly more urgent in force and emphasizes the need for faith: ‘Do not fear, believe’” (following Marshall and Turner). 309   bgt “je dochter.” 303

304

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saved” (καὶ σωθήσεται).310 In context, σῴζω means first of all “to preserve from a disease/preserve from death” (cf. BDAG 982; Bauer 1591–1593; cf. LEH 602), but in the light of Luke’s larger conception of salvation it may carry a far wider range of connotations. [51] ἐλθὼν δὲ εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν οὐκ ἀφῆκεν εἰσελθεῖν τινα σὺν αὐτῷ εἰ μὴ Πέτρον καὶ Ἰωάννην καὶ Ἰάκωβον καὶ τὸν πατέρα τῆς παιδὸς καὶ τὴν μητέρα. – Depending on the translation of εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν, it is envisaged here that Jesus “came to the house … and went inside” (e.g. niv “when he arrived at the house…”) or that he “went into the house and then into the room where the girl was” (e.g. kjv “when he came into the house”). Compared with Mark and Matthew, Luke’s wording is less precise at this point. When it is said that Jesus “allowed no one to enter except…” it is implied, of course, that the persons mentioned did enter the place where the girl was. There is no need for an article before Πέτρον (as in Mark 5:37) since (different from Mark) Peter has already been mentioned in v. 45. καὶ τὴν μητέρα, lit. “and the mother,” that is “and the mother of the child,” hence “and its mother” or “and her mother” (erv, asv, bbe; gnb). Other translations summarize: “the child’s parents” (gwn), “die Eltern des Mädchens” (ein). [52] ἔκλαιον δὲ παντες καὶ ἐκόπτοντο αὐτήν. ὁ δὲ εἶπεν· μὴ κλαίετε, οὐ γὰρ ἀπέθανεν ἀλλὰ καθεύδει. – The unnamed subject of ἔκλαιον are the bystanders, but as in v. 50, Luke’s grammar is a bit inaccurate at this point.311 ἔκλαιον indic. ipf. act. 3 pl. from κλαίω “weep, cry” (also in the context of the mourning of the dead) (BDAG 545; Bauer 880–881; LSJ 955; Montanari 1133–1134; cf. LEH 341). ἐκόπτοντο indic. impf. mid. 3 pl. from κόπτω “beat one’s breast as an act of mourning,” with an object “mourn someone” (BDAG 559; Bauer 902; LSJ 979; Montanari 1160; cf. LEH 350; cf. Moule, IdiomBook, 24). The imperfect expresses continues action: “there were weeping and mourning her.” 312 Μὴ κλαίετε impv. pres. 2 pl. “do not weep” (also in 7:13; 23:28a; Rev 5:5), the imperative expressing continued action, hence “stop weeping, do not weep any longer.”313 [53] καὶ κατεγέλων αὐτοῦ εἰδότες ὅτι ἀπέθανεν. – καὶ adversatively: “But” (njb, nlt), that is, in contrast with what Jesus had said. It is left un Cf. Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 78: “Le καί n’indique pas une continuation ‘puis elle sera sauvée,’ mais bien la raison qu’a le père d’espérer ‘car – tu verras – elle sera sauvée.’ Idem, Schürmann, Lukasevangelium, 1:493: “und – du wirst sehen – sie wird gerettet werden.” Cf. Greijdanus, Lukas, 1:398: (καὶ σωθήσεται) “καὶ zal hier betekenen: en dan, aldus.” 311   Also oberserved by Bovon, Luc, 1:432: “L’inconvénient de cette brièvité, c’est qu’on ne sait plus très bien lesquelles de tous ces personages se lamentent et se moquent (v. 52–53),” “même si cela ne ressort pas clairement du texte, les gens que mentionne le v. 52 sont d’autres personnes que les disciples et les parent signalés au v. 51. Il doit s’agir des amis et des pleureuses” (439). bgt translates “Alle mensen die in het huis waren.” 312   Greijdanus, Lukas, 1:399 (ἐκόπτοντο) “Imperf., zij waren daar al maar mee bezig.” 313  So Greijdanus, Lukas, 1:399: “μὴ κλαίετε, imperat. praes., houdt op met weenen, weent niet langer.” bgt has “Jullie hoeven niet te huilen.” 310

D. Lexical, Syntactical and Semantic Notes on Luke 8:40–56

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translated in many versions: niv, gwn, cjb, hcsb; lei, kbs, wv, gnb, nbv. The imperfect tense κατεγέλων, from καταγελάω “laugh at, ridicule (someone),” (BDAG 515; Bauer 831 “auslachen, verlachen”; LSJ 886; Montanari 1046) is descriptive/durative: “they were laughing.” 314 Some modern versions take it as the beginning of an action: they “began laughing at him” (nasb).315 gnb paraphrases “ze vonden het bespottelijk wat hij zei” and thus weakens the sense somewhat. Other versions explicate the unstated subject: “the crowd laughed at him” (nlt), constructio ad sensum. For κατεγέλων αὐτοῦ see further the notes on Mark 5:40.316 Εἰδότες [ptc. pres. act. nom. pl. masc. from οἴδα] “knowing,” hence “because they knew” (causal) or “knowing” (temporal). The alternative translation “because they were convinced of it” (wv “omdat ze ervan overtuigd waren”), stresses the subjective opinion of the bystanders rather than the opinion of the author and thus seems to leave open the possibility of Scheintod (coma theory), an option rightly precluded in other translations317 (but cf. “being certain,” bbe): οἴδα means “to have information about, know” (BDAG 693; Bauer 1127–1129; LSJ 483; Montanari 597–599 s.v. εἴδω), and there is no indication that this does not express the conviction of the author. Ὅτι ἀπέθανεν [indic. aor. act. 3 sg. from ἀποθνήσκω, see v. 42] means “that she was dead” (so most English versions) or “that she had died” (dby, nasb, cjb, nlt).318 [54] αὐτὸς δὲ κρατήσας τῆς χειρὸς αὐτῆς ἐφώνησεν λέγων· ἡ παῖς ἔγειρε. – (note the different verse numbering). Αὐτός (i.e. “Jesus,” gwn, net, nlt; gnb) seems to be used here for emphasis as a contrast with the bystanders.319 δὲ, older translations have “and,” modern translations “but.”320 For κρατήσας τῆς χειρὸς αὐτῆς,321 see the comments on Mark 5:41.322 Ἐφώνησεν [indic. aor. act.   “were deriding him” (ylt); “were laughing at him” (bbe).   “started laughing at him” (hcsb); “began making fun of him” (net). 316   Luke: “laughed him to scorne (tnt, pnt, gnv, kjv, erv, dra, asv); “derided him” (web, dby); “laughed at him” (rsv, niv, nrsv, gwn, rwb, esv, nlt); ridiculed kim” (nab, nkj, njb); “jeered at him” (cjb). Dutch: “belachten hem” (sv, luv); “bespotten hem” (lei); “lachten hem uit” (nbg, kbs, wv, nbv); “vonden het bespottelijk wat hij zei” (gnb). 317   “for they knew” (tnt), “because they knew” (nab, gwn, hcsb, net, nlt), “since they knew” (cjb); “wel wetende” (luv); “daar zij wisten” (lei); “omdat zij wisten” (nbg, kbs, nbv); “want ze wisten” (gnb). 318   “she did die” (ylt). Most Dutch translations translate “dat ze gestorven was,” but gnb and bgt have “dat ze dood was” (cf. afr “dat sy dood was”). nlb: “dass sie gestorben war.” 319  Cf. Wallace, Greek Grammar, 321–322; Parsons, Culy and Stigall, Luke, 294. 320   “however” (nasb; “echter”: wv); “So (He took her by the hand)” (hcsb); “Then” (nlt); untranslated (kbs, nbv). 321   Subordinate: “having taken hold of her hand” (ylt); “taking hold of her hand” (dby); “taking her [by the] hand” (erv, dra, asv, bbe, rsv, njb, esv). 322   “caught her by the honde” (tnt); “took her by the hand” (pnt, gnv, kjv, web, nasb, nkj, niv, njb, hcsb, net, nlt); “taken hold of her hand” (dby); “taking her by the hand” (erv, dra, asv, rsv, esv); “taking her hand” (bbe, gwn); “took her by the hand” (nab, nrsv, rwb, cjb). “greep … haar hand” (sv; cf. afr “gryp … haar hand”); “nam haar bij de hand” (luv); “vatte haar hand” (lei, 314

315

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3 sg. from φωνέω] “to produce a voiced sound/tone, freq. w. ref. to intensity of tone … of humans: call/cry out, speak loudly, say with emphasis” (BDAG 1071; Bauer 1735; LSJ 1967–1968; Montanari 2323; cf. LEH 656).323 Jesus addresses the girl with the vocative ἡ παῖς.324 Ἔγειρε “arise” (so most English versions, thereby maintaining a possible double entendre) or “get up” ( bbe, niv, njb, nrsv, gwn, cjb, hcsb, net, nlt).325 [55] καὶ ἐπέστρεψεν τὸ πνεῦμα αὐτῆς καὶ ἀνέστη παραχρῆμα καὶ διέταξεν αὐτῇ δοθῆναι φαγεῖν. – The conjunction καί is left untranslated (nab, niv, nrsv, gwn, hcsb, net; kbs, wv, gnb, nbv) or taken as a temporal marker, “then” (nkj), “And at that moment…” (nlt); “toen” (lei). Ἐπέστρεψεν “return.”326 τὸ πνεῦμα refers to “that which animates or gives life to the body, breath, (life-) spirit” (BDAG 832; Bauer 1356; LSJ 1424; Montanari 1688; cf. also LEH 500, including literature); on this use of πνεῦμα in Luke-Acts, see further the standard dictionaries and commentaries. While most translations render τὸ πνεῦμα αὐτῆς as “her spirit,”327 some interpret it as “her breath” (nab), or “her life” (nlt)328: “She came back to life.” Cf. “haar levensadem” (nbv). Two Dutch translations have “haar levensgeesten” (her life-spirits, plural, kbs, gnb), nrd has “haar geestesadem.” According to Bovon, the return of her spirit presupposes the idea that the soul of a deceased person dwells around for some time (according to Jewish tradition three days) before it departs for good to the abode of the dead.329 For παραχρῆμα, see v. 44. διέταξεν indic. aor. act. 3 sg. from διατάσσω “to give (detailed) instructions as to what must be done, order” (BDAG 237; Bauer 380; LSJ 414; Montanari 511; cf. LEH 147); Mark has nbg);

“pakte haar bij de hand” (kbs, wv, gnb); “nam haar hand vast” (nbv). See also “taking her by the hand himself ” (njb); “gently took her by the hand” (net). 323   ἐφώνησεν λέγων “cried, saying” (pnt, gnv, dby); “called, saying” (kjv, web, ylt, erv, asv, rsv, nasb, nkj, rwb, esv); “cried out, saying” (dra). Some versions simply contract to one verb: “said” (niv, net), “said in a loud voice” (nlt) or “called out” (nrsv, gwn, cjb, hcsb). Some translations explicate the addressee: “said to her” (bbe), “called to her” (nab), “spoke to her” (njb). Dutch “riep, zeggende” (sv, luv, nbg); “riep” (lei, kbs, wv, gnb); “zei met luide stem” (nbv). cf. afr “roep uit en sê.” 324   Older versions “maid(en),” new versions “child,” “my child” (bbe, niv, nlt); “little girl” (nkj, cjb); “kind” (sv, lei, nbg); “meisje” (luv, kbs, wv, gnb, nbv). cf. afr “dogtertjie” 325   Dutch translations: “sta op.” 326   “came again” (tnt, pnt, gnv, kjv, web, rwb); “came back” (ylt); “returned” (dby, erv, dra, asv, rsv, nab, nasb, nkj, niv, njb, nrsv, cjb, esv, hcsb, net, nlt); “came back to her” (bbe). Dutch: “keerde weder” (sv); “kwam weder” (luv); “keerde terug” (lei, nbg, nbv); (haar levensgeesten) “keerden terug” (kbs, gnb); (het leven) “keerde in haar terug” (wv). 327   “haar geest” (sv, luv, lei, nbg). 328   “het leven” (wv, bgt). 329   Bovon, Luc, 1:440. Cf. Alexey Borisovich Somov, Representations of the Afterlife in Luke-Acts (PhD diss. VU University Amsterdam 2013), 159– 165: Luke “shares the widespread eastern Mediterranean belief that the soul of the departed does not reach the otherworld immediately after death and can be called back to the body” (164). See also, in general, Rohde, Psyche, 1:301–319.

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the verb διαστέλλω “to define or express in no uncertain terms what one must do, order, give orders” (BDAG 236, with πολλά: “he gave them strict orders”). For αὐτῇ δοθῆναι φαγεῖν, see the comments on Mark 5:43. [56] καὶ ἐξέστησαν οἱ γονεῖς αὐτῆς· ὁ δὲ παρήγγειλεν αὐτοῖς μηδενι εἰπεῖν τὸ γεγονός. – A number of modern versions leave καὶ untranslated.330 gnv opts for a temporal “then.” For the verb-subject order (ἐξέστησαν οἱ γονεῖς) see the comments at v. 45 For ἐξέστησαν, see the notes on Mark 5:42.331 As for οἱ γονεῖς “parents” (tnt, pnt, bbe: “the father and the mother”), lsg explicates what is understood, “les parents de la jeune fille” (cf. nlb “ihre Eltern”), in contrast with gwn: “They were amazed.” The subject of ὁ δέ is explicated: “Jesus” (cf. v. 50; gwn, nlt; bfc; ein; lnd; r60, r 95). δέ (most translations adversative).332 Some Dutch translations change the positive command παρήγγειλεν αὐτοῖς (“he ordered them not to…”)333 into a prohibition (“he forbade them to…”).334 Τὸ γεγονός (ptc. pf. act. acc. neut. sg. from γίνομαι) is taken by most translations as a pluperfect: “what had happened.”335

E. Conclusion In this chapter I have attempted to be thorough rather than exhaustive, and to make translational, syntactical and semantic choices explicit rather than assume them to be self-evident or insignificant. While such a study of texts and translations in what some would call excessive detail will always run the risk of not seeing the wood for the trees, this philological review of the texts leads at least to the following observations and conclusions: First, philological research is not a preliminary exercise; it is an indispensable component of the act of interpretation itself. Anticipating on the work that needs to be done in subsequent chapters, it has become evident that each   nab, niv, njb, nrsv, gwn, cjb, hcsb, net, nlt; lei, kbs, wv, gnb, nbv.   “were astonyed” (tnt, pnt, gnv: astonied); “were astonished” (kjv, web, dra, nkj, niv, njb, rwb, net); “were amazed” (ylt, dby, erv, asv, rsv, nasb, gwn, esv); “were full of wonder” (bbe); “were astounded” (nab, nrsv, cjb, hcsb); “were overwhelmed” (nlt); “stonden versteld” (lei, nbg, wv, gnb); “stonden verbaasd” (kbs); “waren verbijsterd” (nbv). 332   “and” (nab; drb, lsg, tob; sv, luv); “whom he charged etc.” (dra); untranslated (gwn, gnb, nbv). 333   “he warned that they…” (tnt, pnt); “he commanded them” (gnv); “he charged them” (kjv, web, ylt, asv, rsv, nkj, dra, rwb, esv); “he enjoined them” (dby); “he gave orders to them” (bbe); “he instructed them” (nab, nasb, cjb, hcsb); “he ordered them” (niv, njb, nrsv, gwn, net); “(Jesus) insisted that they…” (nlt). “Hij beval hun … niemand” (sv); “Hij gebood hun … niemand” (luv, nbv). 334   “Hij verbood hun … iemand” (lei, nbg, kbs, wv, gnb). 335   “what was done” (tnt, pnt, gnv, kjv, web, dra, rwb); “what was come to pass” (ylt); “what had been done” (erv, asv); “about it” (bbe); “het gebeurde” (lei); “hetgeen geschied was” (nbg); “wat er geschied was” (luv); “wat er gebeurd was” (kbs, gnb); “wat er was gebeurd” (wv, nbv); bgt “wat hier gebeurd is” (my emphasis; the words are rendered in direct speech). 330 331

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gospel writer has his own style and idiom. Luke, for instance, knows well to alternate his style. The conclusion of Hogeterp and Denaux that Luke’s style cannot be reduced to a single linguistic background but is characterized by code-switching between various registers of Greek,336 has been confirmed by our analysis. Second, a comparative approach to the multitude of modern translations gives an impression of the wide range of possible or acceptable (or at least accepted) translations and potentially broadens the horizon of the reader. Third, philological research makes the interpreter aware of the constant need of clarifying one’s method and presuppositions, whether about the nature and the exact wording of the text in question (textual criticism) or about one’s position vis-à-vis the synoptic problem, the legitimacy or not of harmonization (e.g. the translation of ἄρχων in Matt 9:18) and textual emendation (e.g. whether the name Jairus in Mark 5:22 should be considered as an interpolation), and so on. Fourth, the wide variety of translations is a healthy reminder of the hermeneutical nature of the interpretative process. Texts are dumb; they need to be activated by a reader or interpreter who will always bring in his or her own subjectivity and historicity. Fifth, every translation has a cultural component and inevitably reflects the social conditions of the receptor culture. An obvious example is the translation of Ταλιθά / κοράσιον in the mouth of Jesus as transmitted by Mark (Mark 5:41) in English by “mayde(n)” (tnt, gnv et al.), “damsel(l)” ( pnt, kjv et al.), “(my) little girl” (rsv, nrsv et al.), and “(my) child” ( bbe). Finally, translation is a wirkungsgeschichtliches phenomenon. In this respect, translation stands not at the beginning of the hermeneutical circle: one has already entered the circle as soon as one makes one’s very first attempt to make sense of “the dots of ink on paper.” In the next chapter, we will study the structural makeup of the pericopes and determine to what extent the architecture of the story structures its meaning.

  Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms.

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Structure and Form A. Introduction Textual meaning arises through a complex interaction between text (understood as a structured entity) and reader. In this chapter on structural analysis – not to be confused with structuralist analysis as a philosophical-hermeneutical discipline associated with the names of Ferdinand de Saussure and Claude Lévi-Strauss1 – the structure, architecture and coherency of the pericopes will be examined in more detail. First, the three Synoptic versions will be studied as part of the larger literary context of the individual gospels (macrostructure): what is their place in the argument of the respective gospels and how does that affect their meaning? Second, the structure and architecture of the individual pericopes will be analysed: are they coherent and self-contained narratives in themselves? How does their architecture affect the reader’s interpretive strategies and expectations (mesostructure)? Finally, the literary form(s) and their constitutive building blocks will be examined. What are the implications of the classification of the texts as miracle stories, or more specifically, as healing and/or resurrection stories, provided that these are the proper form-critical categories to be used? Can all three versions be said to belong to one and the same literary genre or 1  See Ferdinand de Saussure, Cours de linguistique générale, publié par Charles Bally, Albert Séchehaye, avec la collaboration de Albert Riedlinger; édition critique préparée par Tullio de Mauro; postface de Louis-Jean Calvet (Paris: Payot & Rivages, [1916] 2005); Claude Lévi-Strauss, Anthropologie structurale, ed. Charles Bally, Albert Séchehaye, and Albert Riedlinger (Paris: Plon, 1958; repr. 1985); Arie W. Zwiep, “Structuralistische hermeneutiek: de tekst als wereld,” in Tussen tekst en lezer: Een historische inleiding in de bijbelse hermeneutiek, 2 vols. (Amsterdam: VU University Press, 2013, 32018), 2:224–244. For a more typical structuralist analysis of New Testament miracle stories, see Werner Kahl, New Testament Miracle Stories in Their Religious-Historical Setting: A Religionsgeschichtliche Comparison from a Structural Perspective, FRLANT 163 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1994), and of our pericope in particular Dagmar Oppel, Heilsam erzählen – erzählend heilen: Die Heilung der Blutflüssigen und die Erweckung der Jairustochter in Mk 5,21–43 als Beispiel markinischer Erzählfertigkeit, BBB 102 (Weinheim: Beltz Athenäum, 1995), 47–120. Cf. for a New Formalist approach to the Markan pericope, Michal Beth Dinkler, “A New Formalist Approach to Narrative Christology: Returning to the Structure of the Synoptic Gospels,” HvTSt 73 (2017): art. #4801. DOI: 10.4102/hts.v73i1.4801.

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form? Can further implications be drawn regarding the function and social setting of the stories?2

B. Structure and Form of Mark 5:21–43 1. The Literary Setting of Mark 5:21–43 Confirming the limits of a pericope, which in narrative material will usually be achieved by determining the unity of place, action, and actors, is an important first step in coming to grips with the position and function of the text in its present literary setting.3 How does the pericope fit into the larger narrative structure of the Gospel of Mark as a whole?4 2   For the genre of the gospels as a whole, see Charles H. Talbert, What is a Gospel? The Genre of the Canonical Gospels (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1977); David E. Aune, “The Problem of the Genre of the Gospels: A Critique of C.H. Talbert’s What Is a Gospel?,” in Gospel Perspectives: Studies of History and Tradition in the Four Gospels, ed. R.T. France and David Wenham (Sheffield: JSOT, 1981), 2:9–60; Philip L. Shuler, A Genre for the Gospels: The Biographical Character of Matthew (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1982); Hubert Frankemölle, Evangelium – Begriff und Gattung: Ein Forschungsbericht (Stuttgart: Katho­lisches Bibelwerk, 1988); Robert A. Guelich, “The Gospel Genre,” in Das Evangelium und die Evangelien: Vorträge vom Tübinger Symposium 1982, ed. Peter Stuhlmacher (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1983; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991), 183–219; David E. Aune, The New Testament in Its Literary Environment, LEC 8 (Philadelphia: West­minster, 1987), 17–76; Richard A. Burridge, What Are the Gospels? A Comparison with Graeco-Roman Biography, BRS (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1992, 22004); Larry W. Hurtado, “Gospel (Genre),” DJG 276–282; Georg Strecker, Literaturgeschichte des Neuen Testaments, UTB 1682 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1992), 122–233; Willem S. Vorster, “Gospel Genre,” ABD 2:1077–1079; Adela Yarbro Collins, “Genre and the Gospels,” JR 75.2 (1995): 239–246; Burridge, “Biography,” in Handbook of Classical Rethoric in the Hellenistic Period, 330 B.C.–A.D. 400, ed. Stanley E. Porter (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 371–391; idem, “The Gospels and Acts,” 507–532; Dirk Frickenschmidt, Evangelium als Biographie: Die vier Evangelien im Rahmen antiker Erzählkunst, TANZ 22 (Tübingen: Francke, 1997); Adela Yarbro Collins, Mark: A Commentary, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), 15–43. 3  For a general introduction, see Florian Wilk, Erzählstrukturen im Neuen Testament: Methodik und Relevanz der Gliederung narrativer Texte, UTB 4559 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2016). 4   R. Alan Culpepper, “An Outline of the Gospel according to Mark,” RevExp 75 (1978): 619–622; Benoit Standaert, L’Évangile selon Marc: Composition et genre littéraire (Proef­ schrift Katholieke Universiteit Nijmegen; Studentenpers Nijmegen, 1978); Joanna Dewey, “Oral Methods of Structuring Narrative in Mark,” Int 43 (1989): 32–44; idem, “Mark as Interwoven Tapestry: Forecasts and Echoes for a Listening Audience,” CBQ 53 (1991): 221–236; John G. Cook, The Structure and Persuasive Power of Mark: A Linguistic Approach, SBLSS (Atlanta, GA: Scholars, 1995) (a text-linguistic approach building on speech-act theory and structuralist linguistics); Kevin W. Larsen, “The Structure of Mark’s Gospel: Current Proposals,” CurBR 3 (2004): 140–160; Collins, Mark, 85–93; Roland Meynet, “La composition de l’évangile de Marc,” Greg 96 (2015): 231–252.

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According to the most widely used chapter division in the Greek manuscript tradition, indicated by the italicised numbers in the inner margins of NA 28 (at Mark 5:22 this is 12, at v. 25 it is 13),5 v. 21 rounds off the story of the Gerasene demoniac (Mark 5:1–21) while v. 22 launches a new section.6 Alternately, the editors of NA 28 themselves take v. 21 as introduction to what follows, the preceding section comprising vv. 1–20.7 Matthew seems to have taken Mark 5:21 as the closure of the pericope of the Gerasene demoniac – he had Jesus and the disciples return already in 9:1 (καὶ ἐμβὰς εἰς πλοῖον διεπέρασεν καὶ ἦλθεν εἰς τὴν ἰδίαν πόλιν) – and in fact seizes the opportunity to insert extra material before he resumes his Markan source. Luke, on the other hand, took v. 21 as the introduction to the Jairus scene, ἐν δὲ τῷ + inf. + acc. being a typically Lukan way to start a new section.8 The next section in the Greek manuscript tradition of Mark consists of vv. 22–24 (section 12), while the entire following section, that is, from v. 25 onwards, goes up to 6:6 (!), as is indicated by the italicised number 14 in the inner margin. This at first sight somewhat surprising division – the natural boundary at the end of v. 43 seems to be ignored – will reveal an interpretive crux when the larger context is taken into consideration (see below). Following the geographical and topographical clues within the larger narrative, the narrative action begins in 4:35: “On that day, when evening had come, he said to them: ‘Let us go across to the other side’” (nrsv). The sea 5   Unfortunately, these numbers are absent from SQE. On the κεφάλαια (chapter divisions), see Harvey K. MacArthur, “The Earliest Divisions of the Gospels,” in Studia Evangelica 3, ed. Frank L. Cross, TU 88 (Berlin: Akademie, 1964), 266–272; Metzger and Ehrman, Text of the New Testament, 34–36; James R. Edwards, “The Hermeneutical Significance of Chapter Divisions in Ancient Gospel Manuscripts,” NTS 56 (2010): 413–426; W. Andrew Smith, A Study of the Gospels in Codex Alexandrinus: Codicology, Palaeography, and Scribal Hands, NTTSD 48 (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 156–181. See further Table 1: The Pericope Divisions in the Greek MSS Tradition, at the end of this chapter. Less helpful for our purpose are the paragraph divisions of TynGNT: “Paragraphs [in this edition, az] are informed by manuscripts, in particular by those from the fifth century or earlier. We have not included every paragraph mark from these early manuscripts: we have included only divisions that occur in two such manuscripts…. The paragraph marks often differ from those most widely followed today, but we have found that those that at first glance appear eccentric often display an inner logic when studied more closely” (512). 6   So also the first edition of [Eberhard Nestle], Novum Testamentum graece cum apparatu critico ex editionibus et libris manu scriptis collecto (Stuttgart: Privilegierte Württem­bergische Bibelanstalt, 1898), 97], and Gérard Rochais, Les récits de résurrection des morts dans le Nouveau Testament, SNTSMS 40 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), 43–45. 7   So also UBS5, with no alternatives in the Discourse Segmentation Apparatus; George A. Kennedy, New Testament Interpretation through Rhetorical Criticism, SR (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1984), 34. 8   Cf. Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Gospel according to Luke I–IX: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, 2 vols., AB 28 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1981), 1:119–120. François Bovon, L’Évangile selon Luc 1,1–9,50, 4 vols., CNT 3a (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 1991), 1:433, takes Luke 8:40 as both transition and introduction.

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setting, incidentally, began still earlier, in 4:1, and was followed by a section on parables. But from 4:35 onward, the gospel writer tells a fairly continuous story with a climactic structure. In it, Jesus, the Son of God, performs four miracles to demonstrate his divine power and authority: A. Jesus’s Power over Nature (The Stilling of the Storm, 4:35–41) B. Jesus’s Power over Unclean Spirits (The Healing of a Demoniac, 5:1–20) C. Jesus’s Power over Sickness (The Healing of the Haemorrhaging Woman, 5:25–34) D. Jesus’s Power over Death (The Raising of Jairus’s Daughter, 5:21–24, 35–43)

At 6:1 a new section begins. Obviously, the climax reached with the raising of Jairus’s daughter from the dead is difficult to surpass. What follows, though, is an anticlimax, viz. the rejection of Jesus at Nazareth in 6:6a. This surprising denouement seems to give the entire preceding section a particular twist and this seems to have been understood by the early Greek scribes who took the entire section from 5:23 onwards up to 6:6 as a continuous, uninterrupted narrative (number 13).9 The glorious power performances of the Markan Jesus stand under the aegis of rejection and suffering: his demonstration of divine power not only evokes sympathy and applause but also resistance and rejection,10 notably in his own hometown (ἡ πατρίς αὐτοῦ, presumably Nazareth).11 This, in turn, presses home a message to Mark’s readers: as much as their Master they need to get prepared for a mixed, even hostile response to their gospel proclamation (and this was, of course, already a reality at the time of the gospel’s composition around 70 CE). As Yarbro Collins aptly put it in her comment on Mark 6:4: “The saying would … have fit the missionary situation of the followers of Jesus after his death. In that context, πάτρις would be translated ‘homeland’ and applied to Galilee or Judea or both. In this case, the saying would have a consoling effect upon those who were discouraged at the meager results of missionary efforts in the land of Israel.”12 Note how in this case the larger context adds meaning to the individual peri9   Cf. Gerd Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten: Ein Beitrag zur formgeschichtlichen Erforschung der synoptischen Evangelien, SNT 8 (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1974, 71998), 208: “Die zweite Gruppe von Wundern bildet 4,35–6,6. Sie wird durch das Stichwort πίστις bzw. ἀπιστία zusammengehalten, also einem spezifischen Wundermotif (4,41 5,34.36 6,6). Anfang und Schluß dieses Abschnitts verbinden den Wunderglauben mit der Frage nach Jesu Person: ‘Wer ist dieser…?’ (4,41) und ‘Ist dieser nicht…’ (6,3).” 10  Rudolf Pesch, Das Markusevangelium 1. Teil: Einleitung und Kommentar zu Kap. 1,1–8,26, 2 vols., HThKNT 2 (Freiburg: Herder, 1976, 41984), 314: “Markus, der 4,35–5,43 … vier bedeutende Machttaten Jesu aufzeichnet, zielt im Kontext seines zweiten Evangelienteils (Thema ‘Scheidung der Geister an Jesus’) mit der Reproduktion der Tradition auf die aretologische Spannung, die 6,1–6 negativ gelöst wird: im Unglauben (V 6a)” (italics original). Cf. R.T. France, The Gospel of Mark: A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; Carlisle: Paternoster, 2002), 241, with an understatement: “Not everyone is impressed by Jesus.” 11   But cf. Collins, Mark, 289, 292. 12   Collins, Mark, 292.

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copes: whatever else they may be, in their present setting they are not success stories pure and simple.13 2. The Architecture of Mark 5:21–43 Having defined the outer limits of the pericope and its place and function in the larger structure of the gospel, now the inner structure or, in the words of Charles Talbert, the “architecture” of the pericope itself needs further investigation.14 How is Mark 5:21–43 built up internally? Is it possible to detect an inner unity or an underlying plan? As has been observed by many Markan scholars, the pericope consists of three clearly distinguishable sections, forming a so-called “sandwich construction,” in which one story has been inserted into another and interrupts its plot: Part A. The Introduction of Jesus and the Request of Jairus (5:21–24) Part B. The Healing of the Woman with a Haemorrhage (5:25–34) Part A′. The Raising of Jairus’s Daughter (5:35–43)15

In the next chapter we will study the Markan sandwich technique in more detail (see Chapter 4 on Tradition and Redaction). For now it suffices to examine its structural makeup and draw some preliminary conclusions. In addition to the obvious fact that the two episodes deal with two female characters as the object of Jesus’s salvific action, the parts are connected by a significant number of keywords and repetitions of related words and themes: 13   In a slightly different context, the effect of “textualizing” of the present pericope is recognized by Werner H. Kelber, The Oral and the Written Gospel: The Hermeneutics of Speaking and Writing in the Synoptic Tradition, Mark, Paul, and Q, VPT (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, [1983] 21997), 110: “The healings of Jairus’s daughter (5:21–24, 35–43) and of the hemorrhaging woman (5:25–34) transcend the type of heroic story highlighting the deeds of a strong man. In the textually controlled context of Jesus’ journey they signify his embracement of the Jews as part of the previously announced mystery of the kingdom of God.” See on this further Chapter 5: Orality and Performance. 14   Cf. Charles H. Talbert, Literary Patterns, Theological Themes, and the Genre of LukeActs, SBLMS 20 (Missoula: Scholars, 1974). 15   A slightly different attempt to structure Mark 5:21–43 is provided by Camille Focant, L’Évangile selon Marc, CBNT 2 (Paris: Cerf, 2004), 208, following Rochais [who, in his turn, followed Ernst Lohmeyer, Das Evangelium des Markus übersetzt und erklärt, KEK 1 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1937, 171967), 104], who suggests a fourfold division of the Jairus text: “Le récit du réveil de la fille de Jaïre est structuré en quatre scènes qui commencent par le verbe ‘venir’ (v. 22.35.38) ou ‘pénétrer’ (v. 40). Comme l’a bien montré Rochais, 54– 55, chacune des scènes se passe dans un décor différent et met en avant des personnages différents: au bord du lac, avec la foule (v. 22–24a); sur le trajet entre le lac et la maison de Jaïre, avec des pleureurs (v. 38–40a); dans la maison, avec la morte, ses parents et les disciples (v. 40b–43). L’unité de l’ensemble est soutenue par la présence constante de deux personnages principaux, Jésus et Jaïre, d’un bout à l’autre du récit.” Also Stephanie M. Fischbach, Totenerweckungen: Zur Geschichte einer Gattung, FB 69 (Würzburg: Echter, 1992), 157.

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First, the noun ὄχλος is found in v. 21 and v. 24 (in both cases an ὄχλος πολύς) (= Part A), in v. 27 and v. 31 (= Part B). Although ὄχλος is not used in v. 38, a crowd is implied in the words θόρυβον καὶ κλαίοντας καὶ ἀλαλάζοντας πολλά at Jairus’s house (= Part A′). Accompanying crowds, then, show up in all three sections. Second, the arrival of a petitioner with a respectful gesture of kneeling down is found in v. 22: (Jairus) ἔρχεται … πίπτει πρὸς τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ (= Part A), and in v. 33: (the woman) ἦλθεν καὶ προσέπεσεν αὐτῷ (= Part B). Third, both the twelve-year old girl and the haemorrhaging woman are called “daughter,” v. 23 τὸ θυγάτριόν (= Part A), v. 34 θυγάτηρ (= Part B), and v. 35 θυγάτηρ (= Part A′). Fourth, the notion of a physical touch – a touch of Jesus in the case of the haemorrhaging woman, vv. 27, 28, 30, 31 (= Part B), and a touch by Jesus in the case of Jairus’s daughter, v. 23, 41 (= Parts A and A′) – is what both healings have in common. Fifth, in both cases the result of Jesus’s (expected or performed) action is labelled in terms of healing or salvation: σωθῇ, v. 23 (= Part A), σωθήσομαι, v. 28 (= Part B), ἴαται, v. 29 (= Part B), σέσωκεν and ὑγιής, v. 34 (= Part B). Sixth, the duration of the haemorrhaging woman’s illness (δώδεκα ἔτη, v. 25) (= Part B) corresponds to the age of the girl (ἐτῶν δώδεκα, v. 42) (= Part A′). Seventh, the notion of “fear” (φοβηθεῖσα, v. 33) (= Part B) finds its counterpart in the consoling words of Jesus “not to fear” (μὴ φοβοῦ, v. 36) (= Part A′). Finally, in both cases the emphasis is on faith (πίστις) as a condition for making the miracle possible: ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε (v. 34) (= Part B), μόνόν πίστευε (v. 36) (= Part A′). In sum, (1) crowd vv. 21, 24 (A), vv. 27, 31 (B), v. 38 (A′) (2) the gesture of falling down v. 22 (A), v. 33 (B) (3) daughter v. 23 (A), v. 34 (B), v. 35 (A′) (4) touch of/by Jesus v. 23 (A), vv. 27, 28, 30, 31 (B), v. 41 (A′) (5) be healed / saved v. 23 (A), vv. 28, 29, 34 (B) (6) twelve years v. 25 (B), v. 42 (A′) (7) fear v. 33 (B), v. 36 (A′) (8) faith (to believe) v. 34 (B), v. 36 (A′)16

These literary connections strongly suggest that the two stories have been joined on purpose, either by the author of Mark himself or by his source. In terms of Graeco-Roman rhetorical conventions, this episode is a clear example of the literary technique of σύγκρισις or conlatio (mimesis), i.e. “the  See Oppel, Heilsam erzählen, 88–91, following Frans Neirynck, Duality in Mark: Contributions to the Study of the Markan Redaction, BETL 31 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, Peeters, 1972, 21988), 75–136, for a more detailed analysis of word and root repetitions, synonyms and stylistic coherency in Mark 5:21–43. 16

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presentation of a parallel case/item which may be compared in some detail with the subject in hand in order to show how the one is better, worse, or equal to the other,”17 or, to use the terminology of Philip E. Satterthwaite, “analogical patterning.”18 At the very least one must say that, from a literary perspective, this is an indication that the two stories are interrelated, that is, the one story wants to be read in the light of the other. The two separate incidents, at any rate, are to be read as one single story. The reader is challenged to make a comparison between the two women (and Jairus) and to learn from what happened to them when they received salvation through Jesus.

C. Structure and Form of Matt 9:18–26 1. The Literary Setting of Matt 9:18–26 For the present purpose, we need not concern ourselves too much with the structure of Matthew as a whole. Apart from the largely chronological setup of the gospel taken from Mark with five teaching blocks divided over the gospel and interrupted by narrative blocks, the structure is still puzzling. As yet, there is little consensus as to the overall structure of the gospel.19 Ulrich 17  R. Dean Anderson, Glossary of Greek Rhetorical Terms Connected to Methods of Argumentation, Figures and Tropes from Anaximenes to Quintilian, CBET 24 (Leuven: Peeters, 2000), 110–111. See Rhet. Her. 2.4.6 (in a judicial context): “Conlatio est, cum accusator id, quod adversarium fecisse criminatur, alii nemini nisi reo bono fuisse demonstrat, aut alium neminem potuisse perficere nisi adversarium, aut eum ipsum aliis rationibus aut non potuisse aut non aeque commode potuisset aut eum fugisse alias rationes commodiores propter cupiditatem. Hoc loco defensor demonstret oportet aut aliis quoque bono fuisse aut alios quoque id, quod ipse insimuletur, facere potuisse”; in Rhetorica ad Herennium Lateinisch-Deutsch, ed. Theodor Nüßlein, STusc (Munich: Artemis & Winkler, 1994), 54. Nüßlein himself defines conlatio as “Beweis durch Vergleichen, vergleichende Gegenüberstellung, Vergleich (= conparatio)” (409). 18   Philip E. Satterthwaite, “Acts against the Background of Classical Rhetoric,” in The Book of Acts in Its Ancient Literary Setting, BAFCS 1, ed. Bruce W. Winter and Andrew D. Clarke (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 363–365. 19   Literature: Benjamin W. Bacon, “The ‘Five Books’ of Matthew Against the Jews,” Exp. 8. Ser 15 (1918): 56–66; idem, repr. idem, “Die ‘fünf Bücher’ des Matthäus gegen die Juden,” in Das Matthäusevangelium, ed. Joachim Lange; trans. Hans Wißmann, WdF 525 (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1980), 42–51; Frans Neirynck, “La rédaction matthéenne et la structure du premier évangile,” (1967), in idem, Evangelica: Gospel Studies – Études d’Évangile, vol. 1 of Collected Essays, 2 vols., ed. Frans van Segbroeck, BETL 60 (Leuven: Peeters, Leuven University Press, 1982), 3–36; William G. Thompson, “Reflections on the Composition of Mt. 8:1– 9:34,” CBQ 33 (1971): 365–388; Philippe Rolland, “From the Genesis to the End of the World: The Plan of Matthew’s Gospel,” BTB 2 (1972): 155–176; Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, 209–211; David R. Barr, “The Drama of Matthew’s Gospel: A Reconsideration of Its Structure and Purpose,” TD 24 (1976): 349–359; Thomas B. Slater, “Notes on Matthew’s Structure,” JBL 99 (1980): 436; H.J.B. Combrink, “The Structure of the Gospel of Matthew as Narrative,” TynBul 34 (1983): 61–90; Frank J. Matera, “The Plot of Matthew’s Gospel,” CBQ 49 (1987): 233–253; David

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Luz has commented on the structure of Matthew with a harsh verdict: “Die Forschung präsentiert ein recht chaotisches Bild.” 20 It is therefore hardly surprising to see that a number of Matthew’s commentators abstain from the attempt to describe the structure of the gospel in the first place.21 But given the clear presence of structural markers throughout the gospel, most scholars argue for a conscious patterning of the gospel one way or the other, even if it is sometimes difficult to mark clear boundaries and transitions. First, according to a theory originally worked out by Bacon, the Gospel of Matthew is structured around five discourses of Jesus, each ending with “When Jesus finished all these sayings,” alternating with narrative blocks concerning the mighty deeds of Jesus.22 Bacon held that Matthew had structured his work in conscious opposition to the five books of Moses. Second, Jack Dean Kingsbury and his student David Bauer, working from a literary-critical perspective, 23 took their point of departure in the structural markers ἀπὸ τότε ἤρξατο ὁ Ἰησοῦς in 4:17 and 16:21 as each introducing a new major development in the narrative, resulting in a threefold division: I. T he Preparation for Jesus Messiah, Son of God (1:1–4:16) II. T he Proclamation of Jesus to Israel (4:17–16:20) III. T he Passion and Resurrection of Jesus Messiah, Son of God (16:21–28:20)

The three opening verses, they argue, summarize what follows: 1:1 (Βίβλος γενέσεως Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ υἱοῦ Δαυὶδ υἱοῦ Ἀβραάμ); 4:17 (Ἀπὸ τότε ἤρξατο R. Bauer, The Structure of Matthew’s Gospel: A Study in Literary Design, JSNTSup 31 (Sheffield: Almond, 1988); Ulrich Luz, Das Evangeliun nach Matthäus (Mt 1–7), 4 vols., EKK 1/1 (Zurich: Benziger; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1985, 41997), 15–28; W.D. Davies and Dale C. Allison, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to Saint Matthew, ICC (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1988), 1:58–72 (“III. The Structure of Matthew”); Frans Neirynck, “ΑΠΟ ΤΟTE ΗΡΧΑΤO and the Structure of Matthew,” (1988) in Evangelica II: 1982–1991, vol. 2 of Collected Essays, 2 vols., ed. Frans van Segbroeck, BETL 99 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, Peeters, 1991), 141–182; Warren Carter, “Kernels and Narrative Blocks: The Structure of Matthew’s Gospel,” CBQ 54 (1992): 463–481; Jeannine K. Brown, “Direct Engagement of the Reader in Matthew’s Discourses: Rhetorical Techniques and Scholarly Consensus,” NTS 51 (2005): 19–35; Wim J.C. Weren, “The Macrostructure of Matthew’s Gospel: A New Proposal,” Bib 87 (2006): 171–200; repr. in idem, Studies in Matthew’s Gospel: Literary Design, Intertextuality, and Social Setting, BibInt 130 (Leiden: Brill, 2014), 13–41; James E. Patrick, “Matthew’s Pesher Gospel Structured around Ten Messianic Citations of Isaiah,” JTS 61 (2010): 43–81; Aimé Mpevo Mpolo, “Outlining Matthew’s Gospel through Structure Criticism,” RivBib 63 (2015): 137–155. 20   Luz, Matthäus, 1:17. 21  Robert H. Gundry, Matthew: A Commentary on His Literary and Theological Art (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982), rev. ed., Matthew: A Commentary on His Handbook for a Mixed Church under Persecution (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994), 10–11; Donald A. Hagner, Matthew 1–13, WBC 33A (Dallas: Word, 1993), l–liii. 22   Bacon, “The ‘Five Books’ of Matthew.” 23   Jack Dean Kingsbury, Matthew as Story (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986, 21988); Bauer, Structure.

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ὁ Ἰησοῦς κηρύσσειν καὶ λέγειν· μετανοεῖτε· ἤγγικεν γὰρ ἡ βασιλεία τῶν οὐρανῶν); 16:21 (Ἀπὸ τότε ἤρξατο ὁ Ἰησοῦς δεικνύειν τοῖς μαθηταῖς αὐτοῦ ὅτι δεῖ αὐτὸν εἰς Ἱεροσόλυμα ἀπελθεῖν καὶ πολλὰ παθεῖν ἀπὸ τῶν πρεσβυτέρων καὶ ἀρχιερέων καὶ γραμματέων καὶ ἀποκτανθῆναι καὶ τῇ τρίτῃ ἡμέρᾳ ἐγερθῆναι). Third, rejecting the distinction between discourse and narrative as an outline principle, and focussing on the fulfilment quotations and other quotations and citations instead, James Patrick has attempted to identify ten pesher units clustered around words from the prophet Isaiah (and related minor prophets).24 These are, he argues, “spaced evenly throughout the Gospel”: (1) “The virgin shall bear a son,” – 1:1–2:23 (1:22–23 = Isa 7:14); (2) “The way of the Lord in the wilderness,” – 3:1–4:11 (3:3 = Isa 40:3); (3) “A great light in Galilee,” – 4:12–7:29 (4:14–16 = Isa 9:1–2); (4) “He carried away our diseases,” – 8:1–11:1 (8:17 = Isa 53:4); (5) “Behold my Servant, proclaiming judgment,” – 11:2–12:45 (12:17–21 = Isa 42:1–4); (6) “Hearing and understanding,” – 12:46–13:58 (13:14–15 = Isa 6:9–10); (7) “Teaching the traditions of men,” – 14:1–16:12 (15:7–9 = Isa 29:13); (8) “The King coming to Zion,” – 16:13–21:11 (21:4–5 = Isa 62:11; Zech 9:9); (9) “House of Prayer or ‘robbers’ den,” – 21:12–25:46 (21:13 = Isa 56:7 and Jer 7:11); (10) “Shepherd struck and raised,” 26:1–28:20 (26:31–32 = Isa 53:4–6; Zech 13:7). The number ten, so argues Patrick, corresponds to Rabbinic tradition, 25 and the clustering of texts in strings of structural “kernels” has been identified in the Damascus Document as well. 26

None of these attempts to detect a clear plan within the gospel is fully convincing, nor are they fully incompatible. A plausible and workable solution, in my view, is the one offered by Wim Weren.27 Recognizing the strengths of various proposals, especially those of Bacon and Kingsbury, he suggests that the focus should be on the narrative “hinges” rather than on rigid caesurae to appreciate the continuity within the gospel narrative: it is a continuous story that is being told. Whatever structure is chosen for, however, it is clear on all accounts that Chapters 8 and 9 constitute a narrative unit in-between the Sermon on the Mount (Chs. 5–7) and the Mission of the Twelve (Ch. 10). In immediate continuation of the previous events on the mountain (Καταβάντος δὲ αὐτοῦ ἀπὸ τοῦ ὄρους, v. 1), Chapter 8 opens with three healing stories (8:1–4 the cleansing of a leper; 8:5–13 the healing of a centurion’s servant; 8:14–17 the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law and many more healings), followed by a pericope about would-be followers of Jesus (8:18–22). Then follow a nature miracle (8:23–27 the stilling of the storm) and two more healings (8:28–9:1 the healing of the Gadarene demoniacs; 9:2–8 the healing of a paralytic). These units are followed by the call of Matthew (9:9–13) and the question   Patrick, “Matthew’s Pesher Gospel,” 43–81.   Patrick, “Matthew’s Pesher Gospel,” 57–58. 26   Patrick, “Matthew’s Pesher Gospel,” 60–62, referring to the work of Liora Goldman. 27   Weren, “Macrostructure,” 171–200. 24 25

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about fasting (9:14–17). Our pericope (9:18–26 the healing of a woman and the raising of a girl) is immediately followed by the healing of two blind men (9:27–31) and the healing of one who was mute (9:32–34). The narrative unit ends with a summary statement about Jesus’s teaching, preaching and healing, culminating in a saying about the need for labourers (9:35–37 The harvest is great, the labourers few). A brief glance into the scholarly literature also suggests a large measure of consensus on the audience to which the proclamation of the Matthaean Jesus in this part of the gospel is directed. Matt 9:18–26 is widely recognized as belonging to a larger section that describes “The Ministry of Jesus to Israel” (Kingsbury), “The Proclamation of Jesus to Israel” (Bauer), “Jesus’ Deeds within and for Israel” (Davies and Allison), or, as Donald Hagner puts it, “The Authoritative Deeds of the Messiah.” According to the division of Bauer, in 4:17–11:1, Jesus presents himself to Israel by means of teaching, preaching, and healing (4:23–9:35) and by means of sending out his disciples to perform eschatological ministry to Israel analogous to his own (9:35–11:1). In the majority of Greek manuscript divisions28 the Matthaean pericope of the leader and the haemorrhaging woman are divided along different lines than in Mark. (6) 8:1–4 (7) 8:5–13 (8) 8:14–15 (9) 8:16–18 (10) 8:19–22 (11) 8:23–27 (12) 8:28–9:1 (13) 9:2–8 (14) 9:9–17 (15) 9:18–19 (16) 9:20–26 (17) 9:27–31 (18) 9:32–38 (19) 10:1–11:1

The cleansing of a leper The healing of a centurion’s servant The healing of Peter’s mother-in-law The healing of many others Would-be followers of Jesus The stilling of the storm The healing of the Gadarene demoniacs The healing of a paralytic The call of Matthew and the question about fasting The leader’s daughter (part one) The haemorrhaging woman and the leader’s daughter (part two) The healing of two blind men The casting out of a mute demon and the saying about the harvest The mission of the twelve and teaching of Jesus

After the stilling of the storm (Matt 8:23–27) (11) and the healing of the Gerasene demoniacs (8:28–34) (12), which Matthew has in common with Mark and Luke, Matthew has three episodes before he recounts (with Mark and Luke) the story of the raising of the leader’s daughter and the healing of the haemorrhaging woman: the healing of a paralytic (9:1–8) (13), the call of Matthew (9:9–13) and the question about fasting (9:14–17) (14). This material was skipped by Matthew when he reworked Mark 2:1–22 and relocated it to the present position.   See Table 1 at the end of this chapter.

28

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113

The same is true for material inserted after the pericope of the leader’s daughter and the haemorrhaging woman. Again Matthew inserts three pericopes before he returns to the Markan sequence by telling the story of the mission of the Twelve (10:1–16; Mark 6:6b–13; Luke 9:1–6): the healing of two blind men (9:27–31), the healing of one who was mute (9:32–34), and a saying of Jesus about the harvest (9:35–38). Again, the material is taken from Mark (from scattered references) and relocated to the present position. Matthew has postponed the pericope about the rejection of Jesus at his hometown to 13:53–58, where it opens up a new block of narrative material (13:53–17:27). Matt 8:23–10:16

Mark 4:35–6:13

Luke 8:22–9:6

Jesus Stills a Storm (8:23–27)

Jesus Stills a Storm (4:35–41)

Jesus Stills a Storm (8:22–25)

Jesus Heals the Gerasene Demoniac (8:28–34)

Jesus Heals the Gerasene Demoniac (5:1–20)

Jesus Heals the Gerasene Demoniac (8:26–39)

Jesus Heals a Paralytic (9:1–8)

(= 2:1–12)

(= 5:17–26)

The Call of Matthew (9:9–13)

(= 2:13–17)

(= 5:27–32)

The Question about Fasting (9:14–17)

(= 2:18–22)

(= 5:33–39)

The leader’s Daughter and the Haemorrhaging Woman (9:18–26)

Jairus’s Daughter and the Haemorrhaging Woman (5:21–43)

Jairus’s Daughter and the Haemorrhaging Woman (8:40–56)

Jesus Heals Two Blind Men (9:27–31)

(= 10:46–52)

(= 18:35–43)

Jesus Heals One Who Was Mute (9:32–34)

(= 3:22)

(= 11:14–15)

The Harvest is Great (9:35–38)

(= 6:34)

(= 8:1; 10:2)

(The Rejection of Jesus at Nazareth, 13:53–58)

The Rejection of Jesus at Nazareth (6:1–6a)

(The Rejection of Jesus at Nazareth, 4:16–30)

The Mission of the Twelve (10:1–16)

The Mission of the Twelve (6:6b–13)

The Mission of the Twelve (9:1–6)

A comparison with the parallel passages in Matthew’s Gospel shows that Matthew has a different structural makeup, even though the larger contours of Jesus’s ministry are largely the same as in Mark. Matthew has two clusters of three miracles, interrupted by the pericopes of the call of Matthew and the question about fasting, texts found in a different context in both Mark and Luke. The geographical line is still visible, but it is less prominent than in Mark. The neat fourfold climactic structure of Mark does not work

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for Matthew. Mark’s Gospel has a more geographically orientated structure, while Matthew’s Gospel is more thematically arranged. The crowds and the leaders are the usual (and increasingly fierce) opponents to Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew, but both are absent in the present story. The reader is in a stage of Matthew’s discourse in which the conflict with the leaders is “still preliminary,” and “not so acutely confrontational as subsequent conflict.” 29 As Kingsbury summarizes: In the second part of his story (4:17–16:20), Matthew tells of Jesus’ ministry to Israel (4:17–11:1) and of Israel’s response to him (11:2–16:20). Jesus’ ministry to Israel consists in the main of teaching, preaching, and healing (4:23; 9:35; 11:1). Through his ministry, Jesus summons Israel to repentance and to life in the sphere of God’s end-time Rule. In extension of his own activity, Jesus also commissions the disciples to a ministry in Israel modeled on his own, one of preaching and healing though not of teaching (9:35–10:42). Despite warning signs and the occurrence of the first debates, during which some scribes charge “within themselves” that Jesus is guilty of blasphemy (9:3), the element of conflict does not control this segment of Matthew’s story (4:17–11:1).30

In context, the relocated position of the story immediately after the sayings about the new patch and the old garment and the new wine and the old wineskins (9:16–17), may well reveal Matthew’s wish to tackle the Jewish critique that Jesus violates the Torah, or at least to soften the polarity between Judaism and the new faith. The Jewish purity regulations are indeed overruled, do not seem to take effect, do at least not have a dominant role in Jesus’s confrontation with the (impure) women: the old and the new simply do not (or should not) get mixed up. While Jesus’s salvific presence does not diminish Matthew’s high respect for the Torah – note well his redactional remark in v. 17: ἀμφότεροι συντηροῦνται “both are preserved” –, Jesus’s unique mission to embody God with us seems to relativize (or take out of effect?) the purity laws.31 2. The Architecture of Matt 9:18–26 Turning to the level of the pericope, in Matthew the sandwich-structure of the episode is still visible, albeit less emphatically so than in the case of Mark due to the massive reduction of narrative material. Heinz Joachim Held has convincingly shown how catchword connections within a pericope are a typical feature of Matthaean style.32   Kingsbury, Matthew as Story, 6.   Kingsbury, Matthew as Story, 76. 31   Cf. also Christian Eberhart, “Auch Frauen sind Wunder wert (Die Heilung der blutflüssigen Frau und die Auferweckung der Tochter eines Synagogenvorstehers) – Mt 9,18–26 (EpAp 5,4–7; EvNik 7),” in vol. 1 of Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen: Die Wunder Jesu, ed. Ruben Zimmermann (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2013), 422–423. On the Matthaean version of the sayings, see Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:112–116. 32  Heinz Joachim Held, “Matthäus als Interpret der Wundergeschichten,” in Günther 29

30

C. Structure and Form of Matt 9:18–26

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First, however, it should be noticed that some of the most typical keyword connections in Mark are absent from Matthew. Although the noun ὁ ὄχλος features twice in the pericope (vv. 23, 25), it does not constitute a keyword connection; it refers to a different crowd than the accompanying crowd in Mark. As in Mark, there is an act of kneeling down before Jesus, but by the leader only. Again, it does not constitute a keyword connection (not that it is not important, but it is not a structural marker!). Neither do the twelve years (the age of the leader’s daughter is left unspecified in Matthew), the notion of fear and the emphasis on faith as a condition for the miracle constitute keyword connections in Matthew. Matthew, then, has eliminated if not destroyed some of the most obvious keyword connections in Mark. The only keyword connections he retains from Mark are the designations of the two female characters as “daughter” (θυγάτηρ, v. 18; θυγάτερ, v. 22), the notion of the touch of/by Jesus (vv. 18, 20, 21, 25), and the words associated with salvation. Even the results of Jesus’s action are described in different terms. Second, building on an observation by Held,33 the keyword connection in vv. 21 (σωθήσομαι) and 22 (ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε. καὶ ἐσώθη ἡ γυνὴ) that he does retain from Mark is now situated in the middle of the pericope, more so than is the case in Mark, and thus reveals an essential feature of the story Matthew wishes to highlight. Third, there is another keyword connection more obvious in Matthew than it is in Mark, viz. the emphasis on “seeing.” The word ἰδού is found in v. 18 (= Part A; cf. Mark 5:22), v. 20 (= Part B), καὶ ἰδών in vv. 22 (= Part B; cf. Mark 5:32) and 23 (= Part A′; cf. Mark 5:38 θεωρεῖ). Fourth, there is a keyword connection in the explicit stating of ὁ Ἰησοῦς as subject of the sentence in v. 19 (= Part A), v. 22 (= Part B) and v. 23 (= Part A′); in each case there is no parallel in Mark. Fifth, Part A and A′ are connected by the references to the physical contact through the hand, in both cases in the singular (ἐπίθες τὴν χείρά σου ἐπ᾽ αὐτήν, v. 18; ἐκράτησεν τῆς χειρὸς αὐτῆς, v. 25),34 and by the common use of the verb ἐγείρω: καὶ ἐγερθεὶς ὁ Ἰησοῦς (v. 19) and καὶ ἠγέρθη τὸ κοράσιον (v. 25). In conclusion, Matthew’s version differs from that of Mark in that the latter’s working toward a climactic finale followed by a sudden anticlimax has been given up by Matthew in favour of a more thematic-didactic approach (cf. the ample use of triads). Matthew’s version, furthermore, is more condensed than his Markan source, which he reworked in favour of a christological concentration (see on this Chapter 4: Redaction and Tradition). Bornkamm, Gerhard Barth, and Heinz Joachim Held, Überlieferung und Auslegung im Matthäusevangelium, WMANT 1 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1960, 71975), 224–227; Luz, Matthäus, 2:49–50. See on this below, Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction. 33   Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 205–206 (225). 34  Cf. Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 227. Also Luz, Matthäus, 2:49–50.

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D. Structure and Form of Luke 8:40–56 1. The Literary Setting of Luke 8:40–56 Although the structure of Luke’s Gospel largely concurs with Mark’s, at least where parallel material is found – the beginning and ending of the gospel and the “Great Omission” (Mark 6:45–8:26) are the most notable exceptions – the differences between the two, even where the plots run parallel, should not be overlooked.35 To begin with, the most widely used chapter division in the Greek manuscript tradition divides the pericope in two parts of unequal length, vv. 40–42 (no. 25, 3 verses) and vv. 43–56 (no. 26, 14 verses).36 The first one runs parallel to Mark’s division (no. 12 = Mark 5:22–24), the second one ends, different from Mark, at the command to silence in v. 56). Since Luke has moved the pericope of the rejection at Nazareth (Mark 6:1–6) to the beginning of Jesus’s public ministry (Luke 4:16–30), there is no anticlimax as we found it in Mark. The narrative continues more straightforwardly with the mission of the Twelve. In the Greek manuscript tradition the next section (no. 27, 11 verses) covers the mission of the Twelve (9:1–6), the question of Herod (9:7–9), the return of the disciples and Jesus’s teaching and healing activities (9:10–11). Luke 8:40–56 is situated in the Galilean ministry of Jesus (4:14–9:50), more particularly in the section that begins with the stilling of the storm (8:22–25) and the healing of the Gerasene demoniac (8:26–39) and, after our pericope, ends with the mission of the Twelve (9:1–6), a section in which Jesus demonstrates his power, and which leads to the next section, in which the question “Who is this?” is central (9:7–36). In Luke, the story of the raising of Jairus’s daughter and the healing of the haemorrhaging woman is told first and foremost to disclose the identity of Jesus and to prepare the Twelve for their mission. Different from Mark, in which the resuscitation of Jairus’s daughter is the only resuscitation recorded, in Luke it is the second instance of a miraculous restoration to life. As Joseph Fitzmyer suggests: “The resuscitation of the girl has to be related to the earlier resuscitation of the son of the widow of 35   For the structure of Luke (and Acts), see Robert Morgenthaler, Die lukanische Geschichts­ schreibung als Zeugnis: Gestalt und Gehalt der Kunst des Lukas, 2 vols., ATANT 14–15 (Zurich: Zwingli, 1949); A.Q. Morton and G.H.C. Macgregor, The Structure of Luke and Acts (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1964); Talbert, Literary Patterns; Fitzmyer, Luke, 1:91–97, 105–106 (literature); Bovon, Luc, 1:20–23; Douglas S. McComiskey, Lukan Theology in the Light of the Gospel’s Literary Structure, PBM (Bletchley: Paternoster, 2004); Hans Klein, Das Lukasevangelium, KEK 1/3 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2006), 50–52; Nico Riemersma, Het Lucasevangelie onder de loep: Opbouw, stijl en theologie (Middelburg: Skandalon, 2018), 15–36 (“De macrostructuur van het Lucasevangelie”), including further literature. 36   See Table 1 at the end of this chapter.

D. Structure and Form of Luke 8:40–56

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Nain (7:11–17). There it concerned a son and his mother; here it is a daughter and her father. Lucan parallelism is again at work, but with contrast.” 37 In good Lukan fashion, the raising of a boy is balanced by the raising of a girl.38 More than Mark and Matthew, Luke has made numerous interconnections in his text, thereby making the story an integral part of his wider narrative. Hans Klein, in his commentary on Luke, observes that Luke has made connections with 7:1–10 (the healing of the centurion’s servant); 7:11–17 (the raising of the widow’s son at Nain); 7:36–50 (the anointment by a sinful woman); 8:26–40 (the healing of the Gerasene demoniac); 9:37–43a (the healing of a boy with a demon); 22:54–62 (the denial of Peter), and 24:1–12 (the first post-resurrection appearances).39 A more detailed and systematic analysis brings to light an even higher number of linkages, more so than in Matthew and Mark: The type-scene of the crowd eagerly waiting for the arrival of Jesus (v. 40) recalls a similar scene in 4:42 (καὶ οἱ ὄχλοι ἐπεζήτουν αὐτὸν καὶ ἦλθον ἕως αὐτοῦ καὶ κατεῖχον αὐτὸν τοῦ μὴ πορεύεσθαι ἀπ’ αὐτῶν). The introduction of Jairus (v. 41) recalls v. 12 (καὶ ἰδοὺ ἀνὴρ πλήρης λέπρας· ἰδὼν δὲ τὸν Ἰησοῦν, πεσὼν ἐπὶ πρόσωπον ἐδεήθη αὐτοῦ κτλ.) and anticipates 17:16 (καὶ ἔπεσεν ἐπὶ πρόσωπον παρὰ τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ εὐχαριστῶν αὐτῷ· καὶ αὐτὸς ἦν Σαμαρίτης), and Acts 10:25 (Ὡς δὲ ἐγένετο τοῦ εἰσελθεῖν τὸν Πέτρον, συναντήσας αὐτῷ ὁ Κορνήλιος πεσὼν ἐπὶ τοὺς πόδας προσεκύνησεν). That Jesus went along with a petitioner is also found in 7:6 (ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς ἐπορεύετο σὺν αὐτοῖς). The mention of Jairus’s θυγάτηρ μονογενὴς … καὶ αὐτὴ ἀπέθνῃσκεν (v. 42) parallels the widow’s son at Nain (ἐξεκομίζετο τεθνηκὼς μονογενὴς υἱὸς τῇ μητρὶ αὐτοῦ, 7:12), an episode found in Luke only. As here, there is a crowd (καὶ ὄχλος τῆς πόλεως ἱκανὸς ἦν σὺν αὐτῇ). The (textually uncertain) notion of βίος meaning “resources needed to maintain life, means of subsistence” (BDAG 177) in v. 43 is also found in 15:12, 30, and in 21:4 | Mark 12:44, where another woman is said to have given “all she had to live on” (πάντα τὸν βίον ὃν εἶχεν) not to medical doctors but to the treasury in the temple. The woman’s touch of Jesus for healing power (v. 44) and the resulting healing miracle recall the summary statement of 6:19 (καὶ πᾶς ὁ ὄχλος ἐζήτουν ἅπτεσθαι αὐτοῦ, ὅτι δύναμις παρ’ αὐτοῦ ἐξήρχετο καὶ ἰᾶτο πάντας) and 5:19 (καὶ δύναμις κυρίου ἦν εἰς τὸ ἰᾶσθαι αὐτόν). Peter’s address of Jesus (εἶπεν ὁ Πέτρος· ἐπιστάτα, v. 45) recalls his earlier response to Jesus in 5:5 (ἀποκριθεὶς Σίμων εἶπεν· ἐπιστάτα). See also 9:33 (εἶπεν ὁ Πέτρος πρὸς τὸν Ἰησοῦν· ἐπιστάτα, καλόν ἐστιν ἡμᾶς ὧδε εἶναι). Cf. further 8:24 (the disciples: ἐπιστάτα ἐπιστάτα, ἀπολλύμεθα); 9:49 (Ἀποκριθεὶς δὲ Ἰωάννης εἶπεν· ἐπιστάτα); 17:33 (the ten lepers: Ἰησοῦ ἐπιστάτα, ἐλέησον ἡμᾶς). With v. 46, cf. 6:19 (δύναμις παρ’ αὐτοῦ ἐξήρχετο) and 5:17 (δύναμις κυρίου ἦν εἰς τὸ ἰᾶσθαι αὐτόν). The woman’s approach of   Fitzmyer, Luke, 1:744.  Jos de Heer, Lucas/Acta: Het verhaal van Jezus, Het Evangelie volgens Lucas en Handelingen (Meinema: Zoetermeer, 2006), 2:165–192 takes 8:22–56 as a unity (“een drieluik van wonderverhalen rondom het meer”), consisting of 8:22–25 (stilling of the storm), 8:26–39 (the liberation of the demon-possessed man at the other site of the lake), and 8:40–56 (saving faith on the part of two women). In Dutch: “helend geloof bij opstandige vrouwen,” that is, “saving faith of two rebellious women” – a wordplay on “opstanding” (“resurrection”) and “opstandig” (“rebellious, insurrectional”). 39   Klein, Lukasevangelium, 321. 37

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Jesus (v. 47) recalls v. 41 (καὶ ἰδοὺ … πεσὼν παρὰ τοὺς πόδας [τοῦ] Ἰησοῦ παρεκάλει κτλ.) and v. 12; 17:16, and Acts 10:25. The words ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε (v. 48 = Mark 5:34) are also found in 7:50 (εἶπεν δὲ πρὸς τὴν γυναῖκα· ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε· πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην); 17:19 (καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ· ἀναστὰς πορεύου· ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε), and 18:42 par. (καὶ ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν αὐτῷ· ἀνάβλεψον· ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε). Cf. also Acts 3:16 (καὶ ἐπὶ τῇ πίστει τοῦ ὀνόματος αὐτοῦ τοῦτον ὃν θεωρεῖτε καὶ οἴδατε, ἐστερέωσεν τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ, καὶ ἡ πίστις ἡ δι’ αὐτοῦ ἔδωκεν αὐτῷ τὴν ὁλοκληρίαν ταύτην ἀπέναντι πάντων ὑμῶν). The command to go in peace is also found in Acts 16:36 (νῦν οὖν ἐξελθόντες πορεύεσθε ἐν εἰρήνῃ). The arrival of the messengers from Jairus’s house and their call not to trouble Jesus any longer (μηκέτι σκύλλε, v. 49) recall a similar scene in 7:6 (ἀπὸ τῆς οἰκίας ἔπεμψεν φίλους ὁ ἑκατοντάρχης λέγων αὐτῷ· κύριε, μὴ σκύλλου, οὐ γὰρ ἱκανός εἰμι ἵνα ὑπὸ τὴν στέγην μου εἰσέλθῃς). The command not to fear (μὴ φοβοῦ, v. 50) is paralleled by a number of other situations in Luke-Acts: μὴ φοβοῦ, Ζαχαρία (1:13), μὴ φοβοῦ, Μαριάμ (1:30), μὴ φοβεῖσθε (2:10, the shepherds), μὴ φοβοῦ (5:10, Simon Peter), μὴ φοβοῦ, τὸ μικρὸν ποίμνιον (12:32); μὴ φοβοῦ (Acts 18:9, Paul). In v. 51, there is an intriguing parallel with Acts 9:40: ἐκβαλὼν δὲ ἔξω πάντας ὁ Πέτρος καὶ θεὶς τὰ γόνατα προσηύξατο καὶ ἐπιστρέψας πρὸς τὸ σῶμα εἶπεν· Ταβιθά, ἀνάστηθι. ἡ δὲ ἤνοιξεν τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς αὐτῆς, καὶ ἰδοῦσα τὸν Πέτρον ἀνεκάθισεν. The singling out of Peter, John and James is also found in 9:28 (Ἐγένετο δὲ μετὰ τοὺς λόγους τούτους ὡσεὶ ἡμέραι ὀκτὼ [καὶ] παραλαβὼν Πέτρον καὶ Ἰωάννην καὶ Ἰάκωβον ἀνέβη εἰς τὸ ὄρος προσεύξασθαι); Acts 1:13 καὶ ὅτε εἰσῆλθον, εἰς τὸ ὑπερῷον ἀνέβησαν οὗ ἦσαν καταμένοντες, ὅ τε Πέτρος καὶ Ἰωάννης καὶ Ἰάκωβος καὶ Ἀνδρέας, Φίλιππος καὶ Θωμᾶς, Βαρθολομαῖος καὶ Μαθθαῖος, Ἰάκωβος Ἁλφαίου καὶ Σίμων ὁ ζηλωτὴς καὶ Ἰούδας Ἰακώβου. Luke 22:8 καὶ ἀπέστειλεν Πέτρον καὶ Ἰωάννην εἰπών· πορευθέντες ἑτοιμάσατε ἡμῖν τὸ πάσχα ἵνα φάγωμεν. Acts 3:1 Πέτρος δὲ καὶ Ἰωάννης ἀνέβαινον εἰς τὸ ἱερὸν ἐπὶ τὴν ὥραν τῆς προσευχῆς τὴν ἐνάτην. with further references Luke 5:10 ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ Ἰάκωβον καὶ Ἰωάννην υἱοὺς Ζεβεδαίου, οἳ ἦσαν κοινωνοὶ τῷ Σίμωνι. καὶ εἶπεν πρὸς τὸν Σίμωνα ὁ Ἰησοῦς· μὴ φοβοῦ· ἀπὸ τοῦ νῦν ἀνθρώπους ἔσῃ ζωγρῶν. At v. 52, cf. Luke 7:13 καὶ ἐκτείνας τὴν χεῖρα ἥψατο αὐτοῦ λέγων· θέλω, καθαρίσθητι· καὶ εὐθέως ἡ λέπρα ἀπῆλθεν ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ. with further references. Acts 3:7 καὶ πιάσας αὐτὸν τῆς δεξιᾶς χειρὸς ἤγειρεν αὐτόν· παραχρῆμα δὲ ἐστερεώθησαν αἱ βάσεις αὐτοῦ καὶ τὰ σφυδρά, with further references. The command to silence (v. 54) recalls 5:14 (καὶ αὐτὸς παρήγγειλεν αὐτῷ μηδενὶ εἰπεῖν, ἀλλ’ ἀπελθὼν δεῖξον σεαυτὸν τῷ ἱερεῖ κτλ.), 9:21 (ὁ δὲ ἐπιτιμήσας αὐτοῖς παρήγγειλεν μηδενὶ λέγειν τοῦτο). Cf. 4:41 (καὶ ἐπιτιμῶν οὐκ εἴα αὐτὰ λαλεῖν, ὅτι ᾔδεισαν τὸν χριστὸν αὐτὸν εἶναι). The command to give the girl to eat after her resurrection and in the midst of amazement (v. 55) seems to be paralleled in 24:41–43 (ἔτι δὲ ἀπιστούντων αὐτῶν ἀπὸ τῆς χαρᾶς καὶ θαυμαζόντων εἶπεν αὐτοῖς· ἔχετέ τι βρώσιμον ἐνθάδε; οἱ δὲ ἐπέδωκαν αὐτῷ ἰχθύος ὀπτοῦ μέρος· καὶ λαβὼν ἐνώπιον αὐτῶν ἔφαγεν). The reaction of the parents (v. 56) recalls 2:47 (ἐξίσταντο δὲ πάντες οἱ ἀκούοντες αὐτοῦ ἐπὶ τῇ συνέσει καὶ ταῖς ἀποκρίσεσιν αὐτοῦ).

The number of internal linkages within Luke (and Acts) is significantly higher than in the gospels of Mark and Matthew. This leads to the conclusion that, regardless of where the material might have come from, Luke has managed to fully integrate the story in his overall narrative: almost every verse has a connection with a passage, a phrase, a situation elsewhere in his work. Luke has literally made the story of Jairus’s daughter and the haemorrhaging woman his own. What the implications of this observation are, will be discussed in Chapter 6: Story and Narrative.

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2. The Architecture of Luke 8:40–56 Now let us turn to the pericope itself and see how Luke has made it his own. He keeps the Markan intercalation intact. As in Mark, a number of key words, repetitions and parallel expressions tie the episode together: (1) Ἐν δὲ τῷ ὑποστρέφειν (v. 40) … Ἐν δὲ τῷ ὑπάγειν (v. 42) (2) ὁ ὄχλος (v. 40), οἱ ὄχλοι (v. 42), (3) ἀνὴρ (v. 41) … γυνὴ (v. 43) (4) πεσὼν παρὰ τοὺς πόδας [τοῦ] Ἰησοῦ (v. 41) … προσπεσοῦσα αὐτῷ (v. 47) (5) θυγάτηρ (v. 42), θυγάτηρ (v. 48), θυγάτηρ (v. 49) (6) ὡς ἐτῶν δώδεκα (v. 42) … ἀπὸ ἐτῶν δώδεκα (v. 43) (7) οἱ ὄχλοι συνέπνιγον αὐτόν (v. 42) … οἱ ὄχλοι συνέχουσίν σε καὶ ἀποθλίβουσιν (v. 45) (8) ἥψατο (τοῦ κρασπέδου τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ) (v. 44) … ὁ ἁψάμενός μου (v. 45) … ἥψατό μού (v. 46) … ἥψατο αὐτοῦ (v. 47) (9) παραχρῆμα (v. 44) … παραχρῆμα (v. 47) … παραχρῆμα (v. 55)

These observations suggest again that, whatever the origin of the story, Luke has put such an imprint upon it that it has become his own, an integral part of his larger narrative. We will return to these structural observations in our narrative-critical analysis of the pericopes to see how they contribute to the narrative dynamic and help to communicate the message the gospel writers intended to convey (Chapter 6: Story and Narrative).

E. Literary Motifs of Miracle (Healing) Stories As we already observed in Chapter 1, Martin Dibelius classified Mark 5:21– 43 as a tale (Novelle), a more or less complete story in itself that functioned among early Christian teachers to instruct their (Christian) audience on who Jesus was.40 Heinz Joachim Held, in return, identified Matthew’s version of the two episodes as example stories (Beispielerzählungen) to demonstrate the meaning of authentic faith.41 Most contemporary biblical scholars classify the stories on internal grounds with Rudolf Bultmann as miracle stories (Wundergeschichten), more specifically a healing (Heilungswunder) plus

40  Martin Dibelius, Die Formgeschichte des Evangeliums, mit einem Nachtrag von G. Iber (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1917, 51966), 66–100. In addition to Mark 5:21–43, Dibelius argued that the following episodes in Mark were tales as well: the cleansing of a leper (1:40–45); the stilling of the storm (4:35–41); the healing of the Gerasene demoniac (5:1–20); the feeding of the five thousand (6:35–44); Jesus walks on the water (6:45–52); the healing of a deaf man (7:32–37); the healing of a blind man at Bethsaida (8:22–26), and the healing of a boy with a spirit (9:14–29). 41   Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 170.

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a resuscitation (Totenerweckung).42 On all accounts, the stories have been  Rudolf Bultmann, Die Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, mit einem Nachwort von Gerd Theissen, FRLANT 29 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1921, 101995), 228–230. On New Testament miracle stories, see Karl Gutbrod, Die Wundergeschichten des Neuen Testaments (Stuttgart: Calwer, 1967, 31972); Karl Kertelge, Die Wunder Jesu im Markusevangelium, SANT 13 (Munich: Kösel, 1970); Gerd Petzke, Die Traditionen über Apollonius von Tyana und das Neue Testament, SCHNT 1 (Leiden: Brill, 1970); Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, summarized in Gerd Theissen and Annette Merz, Der historische Jesus: Ein Lehrbuch (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996, 32001), 256–284 (“Jesus als Heiler”); trans. John Bowden, The Historical Jesus: A Comprehensive Guide (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1998); Dieter-Alex Koch, Die Bedeutung der Wundererzählungen für die Christologie des Markusevangeliums, BZNW 41 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1975); Paul J. Achtemeier, “The Lukan Perspective on the Miracles of Jesus: A Preliminary Sketch,” in Perspectives on Luke-Acts, ed. Charles H. Talbert, PRSt 5 (Danville: Association of Baptist Professors of Religion; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1978), 153–167 (= JBL 94: 547–562), repr. in Jesus and the Miracle Tradition (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2008), 11–30; Hans Dieter Betz, “The Early Christian Miracle Story: Some Observations on the Form Critical Problem,” Semeia 11 (1978): 69–81; Antoinette C. Wire, “The Structure of the Gospel Miracle Stories and Their Tellers,” Semeia 11 (1978): 83–113; Alfred Suhl, ed., Der Wunderbegriff im Neuen Testament, WdF 295 (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1980); Howard C. Kee, Miracle in the Early Christian World (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983); Ulrich Luz, “Die Wundergeschichten von Mt 8–9,” in Tradition and Interpretation in the New Testament: Essays in Honor of E. Earle Ellis, ed. Gerald Hawthorne and Otto Betz (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987), 149–165; Barry L. Blackburn, Theios Anēr and the Markan Miracle Tradition: A Critique of the Theios Anēr Concept as an Interpretative Background of the Miracle Traditions Used by Mark, WUNT 2/40 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1991); idem, “Miracles and Miracle Stories,” DJG 549–560; Fischbach, Totenerweckungen; Harold E. Remus, “Miracle (NT),” ABD 4:856–869; Werner Kahl, New Testament Miracle Stories; John P. Meier, Mentor, Message, and Miracles, vol. 2 of A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus, ABRL (New York: Doubleday, 1994), 509–873; Bernd Kollmann, Jesus und die Christen als Wundertäter: Studien zu Magie, Medizin und Schamanismus in Antike und Christentum, FRLANT 170 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1996); Watson E. Mills, ed., Index to Periodical Literature on Christ and the Gospels, NTTS 27 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 29–34 (lit.); Louise Wells, The Greek Language of Healing from Homer to New Testament Times, BZNW 83 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1998); Wendy J. Cotter, Miracles in Greco-Roman Antiquity: A Sourcebook for the Study of New Testament Miracle Stories (London: Routledge, 1999); Bernd Kollmann, Neutestamentliche Wundergeschichten: Biblisch-theologische Zugänge und Impulse für die Praxis, UTB 477 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2002, 22007); Eric Eve, The Jewish Context of Jesus’ Miracles, JSNTSup 231 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002); Erkki Koskenniemi, The Old Testament Miracle-Workers in Early Judaism, WUNT 2/206 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005); Michael Labahn and Bert Jan Lietaert Peerbolte, eds., Wonders Never Cease: The Purpose of Narrating Miracle Stories in the New Testament and Its Religious Environment, LNTS 228; ESCO (London: T&T Clark, 2006); Paul J. Achtemeier, Jesus and the Miracle Tradition (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2008); Audrey Dawson, Healing, Weakness and Power: Perspectives on Healing in the Writings of Mark, Luke and Paul, PBM (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2008); Eric Eve, The Healer from Nazareth: Jesus’ Miracles in Historical Context (London: SPCK, 2009); Wendy J. Cotter, The Christ of the Miracle Stories: Portrait through Encounter (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2010); Craig S. Keener, Miracles: The Credibility of the New Testament Accounts, 2 vols. 42

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made up of stock building blocks that together make them to what they are now and that can be analysed in a systematic way. Following Theissen and Wire, James Bailey and Lyle Vander Broek conveniently distinguish the following subforms of miracle stories:43 (1) Exorcism (a story about encounters with demon-possessed persons). Typical features (“building blocks”) include encounter, expulsion, and reaction. Examples include Mark 1:23–28; 5:1–20; 9:14–29; (2) Controversy Story containing a miracle (conflicts with the religious authorities over what Law permits, culminating in a key-saying and an accompanying miracle that confounds the opponents). Examples: Mark 3:1–6; Luke 13:10–17; 14:1–6, etc. (3) Story of Healing as Response to a Petitioner. Examples can be found in Matt 8:5–13; Mark 1:40–45; 5:21–43; 7:31–37; Luke 7:1–10; (4) Provision Story (a story about Jesus responding to a need (with no prior request for a miracle). Examples are Mark 6:30–44; 8:1–10; Luke 5:1–11; John 2:1–11; (5) Rescue Story (a story about Jesus or his envoys responding to a situation of distress, usually containing some kind of entreaty or prayer by the disciples, frequently with an epiphany preceding their deliverance). Examples include Mark 4:35–41; Acts 12:1ff.; 16:16ff.; (6) Epiphany (a story about a manifestation of a heavenly being, containing the strong reaction of those witnessing the event). Examples are Mark 6:45–52 parr.; Luke 5:1–11.

The ancient world widely attests to holy men gifted to perform miracles of healing.44 The divine healer god Asclepius, for example, was widely and famously remembered and venerated for his healing activities, including the raising of a dead person – for which, unfortunately, he was subsequently punished (killed) by his father Zeus. Hundreds of temples of Asclepius were erected all over the Roman empire that attracted the ill to find healing.45 Apollonius of Tyana, a near contemporary of Jesus, was also well-remembered as a worker of miracles, including an alleged resuscitation. His thirdcentury biographer Philostratus reports the following incident about him (but not hiding a sceptical note):

(Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2011); Ruben Zimmermann, ed., Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen, vol. 1: Die Wunder Jesu (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2013); Jordash Kiffiak, Responses in the Miracle Stories of the Gospels: Between Artistry and Inherited Tradition, WUNT 2/429 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017); Andreas Lindemann, “Neuere Literatur zu neutestamentlichen Wundererzählungen,” TRu 82 (2017): 224–279. 43  James L. Bailey and Lyle D. Vander Broek, Literary Forms in the New Testament: A Handbook (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1992), 137–144. 44   See, e.g., Otto Weinreich, Antike Heilungswunder: Untersuchungen zum Wunderglauben der Griechen und Römer (Giessen: Töpelmann, 1909; repr. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1969); Kee, Miracle, 78–104 (Asklepios the Healer), 105–145 (Isis); Kollmann, Jesus und die Christen, 61–173; Cotter, Miracles in Greco-Roman Antiquity, and the literature already cited above. 45   See for a comparison with the gospels, Frances Flannery, “Talitha Qum! An Exploration of the Image of Jesus as Healer-Physician-Savior in the Synoptic Gospels in Relation to the Asclepius Cult,” in Coming Back to Life: The Permeability of Past and Present, Mortality and Immortality, Death and Life in the Ancient Mediterranean, ed. Frederick S. Tappenden and Carly Daniel-Hughes, with the assistance of Bradley N. Rice (Montreal, QC: McGill University Library, 2017), 407–434.

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Apollonius performed another miracle. There was a girl (κόρη) who appeared to have died (τεθνάναι ἐδόκει) just at the time of her wedding. The betrothed followed the bier, with all the lamentations of an unconsummated marriage, and Rome mourned with him, since the girl belonged to a consular family. Meeting with this scene of sorrow, Apollonius said, “Put the bier down, for I will end your crying over the girl.” At the same time he asked her name, which made most people think he was going to declaim a speech of the kind delivered at funerals to raise lamentation. But Apollonius, after merely touching her (προσαψάμενος αὐτῆς) and saying something secretly (τι ἀφανῶς ἐπειπών), woke the bride from her apparent death (ἀφύπνισε τὴν κόρην τοῦ δοκοῦντος θανάτου). The girl spoke, and went back to her father’s house like Alcestis revived (ἀναβιωθεῖσα) by Heracles. Her kinsmen wanted to give Apollonius a hundred and fifty thousand drachmas, but he said he gave it as an extra dowry for the girl. He may have seen a spark of life in her which the doctors had not noticed, since apparently the sky was drizzling and steam was coming from her face, or he may have revived and restored her life when it was extinguished (ἀπεσβηκυῖαν τὴν ψυχὴν ἀνέθαλψέ τε καὶ ἀνέλαβεν), but the explanation of this has proved unfathomable, not just to me but to the bystanders.46

In first-century Judaism, as Geza Vermes has reminded New Testament scholarship, Honi the Circle-Drawer and Ḥanina ben Dosa were popular miracle workers.47 Of Ḥanina ben Dosa, a first-century charismatic from Galilee and a contemporary of Jesus, the following episode is told in the (Babylonian and Jerusalem) Talmud: It happened that when Rabban Gamaliel’s son fell ill, he sent two of his pupils to R. Hanina ben Dosa that he might pray for him. When he saw them, he went to the upper room and prayed. When he came down, he said to them: Go, for the fever has left him. They said to him: Are you a prophet? He said to them: I am no prophet, neither am I a prophet’s son, but this is how I am blessed: if my prayer is fluent in my mouth, I know that the sick man is favoured; if not, I know that the disease is fatal. They sat down, wrote and noted the hour. When they came to Rabban Gamaliel, he said to them: By heaven! You have neither detracted from it, nor added to it, but this is how it happened. It was at that hour that the fever left him and he asked us for water to drink.48

The story recalls the Elijah and Elisha traditions of the Hebrew Bible and parallels distant healings performed by Jesus (Mark 7:24–30 | Matt 15:21– 28; Matt 8:5–13 | Luke 7:1–10; John 4:46–54). In Talmudic literature a number of miracles are attributed to Ben Dosa.49 As in the Jesus tradition, there 46   Philostratus, Vit. Apoll. 4.45.1–2; ed. and trans. Christopher P. Jones, Philostratus: Apollonius of Tyana, Volume I: Life of Apollonius of Tyana, Books 1–4, LCL 16 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2005), 418–419. For an analysis and comparison with Luke 7:11–17, see Nico Riemersma, Aan de dode een wonder gedaan: Een exegetisch-hermeneutische studie naar de dodenopwekking in Lucas 7,11–17 in relatie tot 1 Koningen 17,7–24 en Vita Apollonii IV,45, ACEBTSup 14 (Bergambacht: 2VM, 2016), 204–230. 47  See Meier, Marginal Jew, 2:576–601. 48   b. Ber. 34b and y. Ber. 9d, quoted from Geza Vermes, Jesus the Jew: A Historian’s Reading of the Gospels (London: SCM, 1973), 8, and idem, The Changing Faces of Jesus (London: Allen Lane, Penguin, 2000), 243. 49   Geza Vermes, “Ḥanina ben Dosa,” JJS 23 (1972): 28–50; 24 (1973): 51–64; repr. in

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is a tendency to compare his miracles to those performed by Elijah and Elisha.50 As can be seen already in the few examples just cited, in antiquity stories about miracles and miracle workers tended to be told (and written) according to conventional principles, a more or less standardized communicative pattern. The stories of the raising of Jairus’s daughter and the healing of the haemorrhaging woman are no exceptions. They clearly belong to the subcategory of healing stories, more specifically one in response to a petitioner, although admittedly the somewhat unexpected climax makes the episode of Jairus’s daughter a special case: it is the healing of the most extreme form of disease, death – as Rudolf Pesch suggests, “der Tod ist der äußerste Fall der Krankheit”.51 Still, from a literary perspective, healings and resuscitations display largely the same structure and narrative motifs (cf. e.g. Mark 1:29–31; 1:40–45, etc.).52 Scholarly research has produced various lists of motifs in healing stories.53 Motifs, as understood in this chapter, are the smallest independent narrative units (“building blocks”) that make up a story.54 More or less standard motifs in a typical healing story are the introduction of the petitioner or his/her intermediary, a diagnosis of the illness, a petition for help to the arriving miracle-worker, the performance of the miracle either through a verbal command, through a simple touch or through therapeutic techniques (saliva, a gesture, a magical word, a prayer), an explicit affirmation that the person has been healed, often followed by a demonstration of the healing by idem, Post-Biblical Studies, SJLA 8 (Leiden: Brill, 1975), 178–214; Baruch M. Bokser, “Wonder-Working and the Rabbinic Tradition: The Case of Ḥanina Ben Dosa,” JSJ 16 (1985): 42–92; Eve, Jewish Context, 279–295. 50   See Craig A. Evans, Jesus and His Contemporaries: Comparative Studies (Leiden: Brill, 1995/2001), 231–236. 51   Pesch, Markusevangelium, 1:297. Also: Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, 98 n.25; Meier, Marginal Jew, 2:776: “The Gospels … treat these acts of raising the dead as extreme examples of healing,” also 839–840 n.9. 52   According to Pesch, Markusevangelium, 1:298, two additional motifs are typical of resuscitation stories, viz. (1) the confirmation of death / exclusion of apparent death (“Your daughter is dead,” v. 35; “he saw a commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly,” v. 38; “Why do you make a commotion and weep?” v. 39; “And they laughed at him,” v. 40), and (2) the performance of the miracle in a closed setting. While some scholars have argued for the existence of a distinct literary genre of resuscitations (Rochais, Récits de résurrection; Fischbach, Totenerweckungen), for our present purpose there is no need to restrict our examination to it. 53   See e.g. Weinreich, Antike Heilungswunder; Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten. 54   Theissen and Merz, Historische Jesus, 258 n.4: “Als ‘Motive’ gelten hier die kleinsten abgrenzbaren unselbständigen Erzähleinheiten” [trans. Historical Jesus, 283 n.2: “the smallest independent (sic) narrative units”]. This definition (motif as building block) is somewhat at odds with the definition offered by William Freedman, professor emeritus of English literature, in a brief but instructive article from 1971, “The Literary Motif: A Definition and Evaluation,” Novel 4 (1971): 123–131 (motif as red thread).

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an action of the healed person or an assertion of the narrator, and a reaction of those who witnessed the event.55 Our present task is to examine the formal constituents of the stories to see how the individual building blocks shape and define them. We are in the fortunate position of having three different versions of one and the same miracle story – or miracle stories, if we take the Jairus episode and the healing of the haemorrhaging woman as two separate cases. In what follows the motifs of the three synoptic versions will be analysed (individually) with the help of the list of thirty-three motifs made by Gerd Theissen.56 A typical healing story, according to Theissen, consists of four organizing building blocks: an introduction, an exposition, a centre and a conclusion, within which more or less standard clusters of motifs are used. The list below is based on an analysis of Jewish, Hellenistic, Graeco-Roman and Christian miracle stories, and consists of the following motifs: INTRODUCTION: [1] the arrival of the miracle-worker (different from exorcisms, this is usually the first motif in a healing story, “nie an zweiter Stelle,” and very rare in controversy stories)57; [2] the appearance of the crowd; [3] the distressed person (i.e. the person to be healed); [4] representatives , “people making requests on behalf of the sick, including those who carry or accompany them”;58 [5] embassies; [6] opponents; [7] 55   The scheme persists in the later apocryphal Jesus tradition, e.g. in Inf. Gos. Thom. 17.1–2 (the raising of a boy when Jesus was still a child): “After these things, an infant in Joseph’s neighborhood became sick and died; and his mother was weeping loudly. When Jesus heard the outburst of sorrow and the disturbance, he ran up quickly and found the child dead. He touched its breast, saying ‘I say to you, young child, do not die but live, and be with your mother.’ Immediately the child opened its eyes and laughed. Jesus said to the woman, ‘Take him, give him milk, and remember me.’ When the crowd standing there saw what had happened, it was amazed. The people said, ‘Truly this child is either a god or an angel of God, for his every word is an accomplished deed.’ Jesus then left from there to play with the other children.” [Text and trans. Bart D. Ehrman and Zlato Pleše, The Apocryphal Gospels: Texts and Translations (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 20–23]. Also Inf. Gos. Thom. 18.1–2 (the raising of a dead man): “Some time later a house was being built and there was a great disturbance. Jesus got up and went out of the place. He saw a man lying down, dead. Taking his hand he said, ‘I say to you, O man, rise up and do your work.’ Immediately he rose up and worshiped him. When the crowd saw this, it was amazed and said, ‘This child comes from heaven. For he has saved many souls from dead-for his entire life he is able to save them’” (Text and trans. Ehrman and Pleše, Apocryphal Gospels, 22–23). 56   Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, 57–83, summarized in Theissen and Merz, Historische Jesus, 258–259 (trans. Historical Jesus, 283–285). Otherwise very helpful for the analysis of forms and genres is Klaus Berger, “Hellenistische Gattungen im Neuen Testament,” ANRW 25.2:1212–1231, and idem, Formen und Gattungen im Neuen Testament, UTB 2532 (Tübingen: Francke, 2005). For a comparable analysis of the formal building blocks of healing and resuscitation stories, see Fischbach, Totenerweckungen, 7–32, building on Theissen. She makes a distinction between “Herholungs- und Begegnungstypen” of resuscitation stories (28–29). Our pericope belongs to the former, Luke 7:11–17 to the latter. 57   Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, 58. 58   In the case of resuscitations an inevitable motif; see Fischbach, Totenerweckungen, 23.

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(“Motivierung des Auftretens von Gegenspielern,” i.e. reasons why the sick come to the miracle-worker, e.g. because they have heard of him, have received a revelation, etc.).59 EXPOSITION: [8] description of the distress; [9] difficulties in the approach (“Erschwernis der Annäherung,” e.g. a crowd inhibiting free access to the miracle-worker or to the distressed person; [10] falling to the knees; [11] cries for help; [12] pleas and expressions of trust; [13] misunderstanding; [14] scepticism and mockery; [15] criticism (from opponents); [16] resistance of the demon; [17] pneumatic excitement (an emotional reaction of the miracle-worker such as being moved with pity or anger, disturbed); [18] assurance (“Zuspruch”) 60; [19] argument; [20] withdrawal (“Sich-Entziehen,” i.e. the miracle-worker seems to be indifferent to the situation or unwilling to perform a miracle). CENTRE: [21] setting the scene; [22] touch (“Berührung”); [23] healing substances , such as saliva, clothing, objects; [24] miracle-working word; [25] prayer ; [26] recognition of the miracle . CONCLUSION: [27] demonstration; [28] dismissal (of the person involved, “go and …”) [29] command to secrecy; [30] wonder (“Admiration”);61 [31] acclamation (an explicit expression of approval, praise or assent, a public recognition of the miracle-worker) 62; [32] rejection; [33] spread of the news. reasons given for the appearance of opposite numbers

Not every motif will be found in each miracle story but as will be demonstrated below the list is sufficiently indicative to be of help for the present purposes. In what follows Theissen’s checklist will be applied to the stories under scrutiny, each gospel version on its own and each episode on its own. The numbers correspond with Theissen’s numbering.63

F. Literary Motifs in Mark 5:21–43 Mark’s miracle story of Jairus’s daughter and the haemorrhaging woman is part of a larger repertoire of healing stories. In his gospel, he reports the 59   Theissen and Merz, Historical Jesus, 285 n.7: “‘Opposite numbers’ and ‘intermediaries’ do not denote concrete persons but roles over against the miracle-worker (who remains constant), which can be taken by different persons and which structure the narrative. Miracleworkers and ‘opposite numbers’ (very often the sick) form the two poles; all the other people who appear occupy the field of the ‘intermediaries’.” 60   Theissen and Merz, Historische Jesus, 266: “Ohne Analogie in der antiken Wundertopik is der Zuspruch: ‘Dein Glaube hat dich gerettet.’ In antiken Wundergeschichten ist immer nur vom nachfolgenden Glaube an die Faktizität schon geschehener Wunder die Rede, nur bei Jesus wird der Glaube zu einer dem Wunder vorausgehenden wunderwirksamen Kraft.” 61   Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, 78: “Das Admirationsmotiv umfaßt alle erzählerischen Momente, die ein Staunen, Fürchten, Verwundern zum Ausdruck bringen.” 62   Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, 80–81, 154–174. Cf. Berger, Formen und Gattungen, 290–294: “Als Akklamation bezeichnet man den inhaltlicht affirmativen, bestätigende Zuruf, oft an einen Höhergestellten, der außer der affirmatio (häufig titular oder jedenfalls nominal) auch eine deprecatio (Bittruf) enthalten kann” (290). A clear example is Luke 7:16 (ἔλαβεν δὲ φόβος πάντας καὶ ἐδόξαζον τὸν θεὸν λέγοντες ὅτι προφήτης μέγας ἠγέρθη ἐν ἡμῖν καὶ ὅτι ἐπεσκέψατο ὁ θεὸς τὸν λαὸν αὐτοῦ). 63   See also Fischbach, Totenerweckungen, 161–164.

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following healings: the healing of a man with an unclean spirit (1:21–26); the healing of Simon’s mother-in-law (1:30–31); the cleansing of a leper (1:40–45); the healing of a paralytic (2:1–12); the healing of the man with a withered hand (3:1–6); the healing of the Gadarene demoniac (5:1–20); the raising of the daughter of Jairus (5:21–24, 35–43) and the healing of the haemorrhaging woman (5:25–34); the healing of the Syrophoenician woman’s daughter (7:24–30); the cure of a deaf and dumb man (7:31–37); *the cure of a blind man at Bethsaida (8:22–26); the healing of a boy with a spirit (9:14–29), and the healing of blind Bartimaeus (10:46–52).64 1. Literary Motifs in Mark 5:21–24, 35–43 In the Jairus episode all main parts of a typical miracle story (introduction, exposition, centre and conclusion) are present, thus forming a relatively selfcontained narrative. Within these four parts, the following formal features are attested: INTRODUCTION: [1] the arrival of the miracle-worker: διαπεράσαντος τοῦ Ἰησοῦ … καὶ ἦν παρὰ τὴν θάλασσαν, “when Jesus had crossed again … and he was by the sea,” v. 21;65 [2] the appearance of the crowd: συνήχθη ὄχλος πολὺς ἐπ᾽ αὐτόν, “a great crowd gathered around him,” v. 21b; [3] the distressed person: Jairus’s daughter on the verge of death, v. 23; [4] representatives: εἷς τῶν ἀρχισυναγώγων ὀνόματι Ἰάϊρος, “one of the leaders of the synagogue named Jairus,” representing his dying daughter, v. 22; [5] embassies: οἱ ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀρχισυναγώγου, “some people from the leader’s house,” v. 35; [6] opponents: – ; [7] reasons given for the appearance of opposite numbers: the petition for help, v. 23. EXPOSITION: [8] description of the distress: τὸ θυγάτριόν μου ἐσχάτως ἔχει, “My little daughter is at the point of death,” v. 23; [9] difficulties in the approach: ὄχλος πολὺς … συνέθλιβον αὐτόν, “a large crowd … pressed in on him,” v. 24, and the entire incident with the haemorrhaging woman, vv. 25–34; [10] falling to the knees: πίπτει πρὸς τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ, “fell at his feet,” v. 22; [11] cries for help: παρακαλεῖ αὐτὸν πολλὰ λέγων ὅτι κτλ., “begged him repeatedly, saying…,” v. 23; [12] pleas and expressions of trust: ἐλθὼν … ἵνα σωθῇ καὶ ζήσῃ, “come … so that she may be made well, and live,” v. 23 (the invitation to come has the character of an expression of trust); [13] misunderstanding: ἡ θυγάθηρ σου ἀπέθανεν· τί ἔτι σκύλλεις τὸν διδάσκαλον; “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?” v. 35; [14] scepticism and mockery: καὶ κατεγέλων αὐτοῦ, “and they laughed at him,” v. 40a; [15] criticism (from opponents): – ; [16] resistance of the demon: – ; [17] pneumatic excitement: – ; [18] assurance: μὴ φοβοῦ, μόνόν πίστευε, “Do not fear, only believe,” v. 36; [19] argument: τὸ παιδίον οὐκ ἀπέθανεν ἀλλὰ καθεύδει, “The child is not dead but sleeping,” v. 39;66 [20] withdrawal: – . CENTRE: [21] setting the scene: καὶ ἔρχονται εἰς τὸν οἶκον τοῦ ἀρχισυναγώγου καὶ θεωρεῖ θόρυβον … καὶ εἰσελθὼν … αὐτὸς δὲ ἐκβαλὼν πάντας, “When they came to the house of the leader, he saw a commotion … When he had entered … he put them all outside,” vv. 38–40; [22] touch: ἐπιθῇς τὰς χεῖρας αὐτῇ, “lay your   An * indicates that the story is unique to Mark.   English translations are taken from nrsv. 66  Cf. Fischbach, Totenerweckungen, 9–10, who takes this saying as “Anamnese” and “Diagnose” (25). 64 65

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hands on her,” v. 23, and κρατήσας τῆς χειρὸς τοῦ παιδίου, “He took her by the hand,” v. 41 (note that the request and the action are not congruent); [23] healing substances: – ; [24] miracle-working word: ταλιθα κουμ, “Talitha cum,” v. 4267; [25] prayer: – ; [26] recognition of the miracle: καὶ εὐθὺς ἀνέστη τὸ κοράσιον, “And immediately the girl got up,” v. 42. CONCLUSION: [27] demonstration: καὶ περιεπάτει, “and began to walk about,” v. 42; [28] dismissal: – (perhaps implied by Jesus’s command to give the girl to eat); [29] command to secrecy: διεστείλατο αὐτοῖς πολλὰ ἵνα μηδεὶς γνοῖ τοῦτο, “He strictly ordered them that no one should know this,” v. 43; [30] wonder: ἐξέστησαν … ἐκστάσει μεγάλῃ, “they were overcome with amazement,” v. 42; [31] acclamation: – ; [32] rejection: – ; [33] spread of the news: – .

Of the thirty-three motifs summed up by Theissen more than twenty are attested in Mark’s version, so that it is not difficult to conclude that this is as typical a healing story as one can get. Of course, as was already said earlier, one should not expect all motifs to be found in the story. For example, since it is not an exorcism, it does not surprise to find no demonic resistance [16], unlike Mark 1:24 and 5:7. Pneumatic excitement [17] is attested elsewhere in Mark’s “therapies,”68 and may be absent for no particular reason. The command to give the girl to eat is probably not to prove that the girl is not phantom,69 for the actual proof is not given (unlike Luke 24:41–43).70 It looks more like a confirmation of the healer’s concern for his “patient,” hence Jesus’s “post-treatment care” of/for the girl.71 There are, however, three clusters of motifs, the absence of which may not be accidental and invite at least a tentative word of explanation. First, there are no opponents [6], there is no criticism [15], and there is no rejection [32]. There is, in other words, no controversy setting, even though in the larger context all three motifs are present as a part of a growing conflict with the scribes and Pharisees. One wonders whether this tells us something about the original (pre-Markan) background of the story as an independent piece of tradition, originating in a non-controversy setting. What is Mark’s point? To portray Jesus as a successful miracle-worker? We are reminded here of Kingsbury’s observation on Matthew that the setting of the episode 67   The fact that Mark provides this “barbaric” word with a translation may well be explained as the break of a magic spell, thus demonstrating the miracle-worker’s superiority over the powers of evil, or as an affirmation that Jesus knew what was going on when he spoke these words and thus showed to be in control. See on this further John M. Hull, Hellenistic Magic and the Synoptic Tradition, SBT II/28 (London: SCM, 1974), 85. 68   Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, 67–68. 69  So Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 70. 70   This also weakens Hull’s suggestion (Hellenistic Magic, 75) that the command to give the girl to eat is proof of the reality of the cure. 71  A different explanation is offered by Bas van Iersel, Mark: A Reader-Response Commentary, JSNTSup 164, trans. W.H. Bisscheroux (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998): “For a reader who supposes the girl to have been fatally undernourished owing to anorexia – an illness known to have existed since time immemorial – the order to give her something to eat is specific evidence of the cure.”

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is non-polemical.72 The same seems to be true for Mark. Controversy and rejection surely come in by hindsight (6:1–6) but they do not characterize the pericope as such. Second, there are no healing substances [23] and there is no accompanying prayer [25], although both motifs are attested elsewhere in Mark. Of special interest is the story of the cure of a deaf man in 7:31–37, which shows many points of convergence with the present one.73 This story distinguishes itself from 5:21–43 especially with regard to the notion of accompanying prayer and the healing technique. Accompanying prayer is not usually mentioned in the gospels in connection with a miracle performed by Jesus. Mark 6:41 (the feeding of the five thousand) and 7:34 (the cure of the deaf man) may be the exceptions to prove the rule. In John 11:41–42, the prayer uttered by Jesus at Lazarus’s tomb is not a prayer for a miraculous intervention by God, but a thanksgiving prayer for an (implied) earlier request by Jesus.74 In John’s narrative world, this prayer is a clear demonstration of the constant union of the Father and the Son (and of the Son’s dependence on the Father). In the Synoptic Gospels, Jesus does not normally pray for a miracle nor does he make use of healing substances: he is clearly not in need of such means to exert his power. The Synoptic Jesus does not normally need such actions to   Kingsbury, Matthew as Story, 76.   Then he returned (πάλιν ἐξελθών) from the region of Tyre, and went by way of Sidon towards the Sea of Galilee, in the region of the Decapolis. They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech (κωφὸν καὶ μογιλάλον); and they begged him to lay his hands on him (παρακαλοῦσιν αὐτὸν ἵνα ἐπιθῇ αὐτῷ τὴν χεῖρα). 33 He took him aside in private, away from the crowd (ἀπὸ τοῦ ὄχλου), and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue (ἔβαλεν τοὺς δακτύλους αὐτοῦ εἰς τὰ ὦτα αὐτοῦ καὶ πτύσας ἥψατο τῆς γλώσσης αὐτοῦ). 34 Then, looking up to heaven (ἀναβλέψας εἰς τὸν οὐρανὸν), he sighed (ἐστέναξεν) and said to him, “Ephphata,” that is, “Be opened” (εφφαθα, ὅ ἐστιν διανοίχθητι). 35 And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly. 36 Then Jesus ordered them all to tell no one (καὶ διεστείλατο αὐτοῖς ἵνα μηδενὶ λέγωσιν); but the more he ordered them, the more zealously they proclaimed it. 37 They were astounded beyond measure (ὑπερπερισσῶς ἐξεπλήσσοντο), saying, “He has done everything well; he even makes the deaf to hear and the mute to speak” (nrsv). Equally instructive is the comparison with the healing of a blind man in 8:22–26: 22 They came to Bethsaida. Some people brought a blind man (τυφλόν) to him and begged him to touch him (παρακαλοῦσιν αὐτὸν ἵνα αὐτοῦ ἅψηται). 23 He took the blind man by the hand (ἐπιλαβόμενος τῆς χειρὸς τοῦ τυφλοῦ) and led him out of the village; and when he had put saliva on his eyes (πτύσας εἰς τὰ ὄμματα αὐτοῦ) and laid his hands on him (ἐπιθεὶς τὰς χεῖρας αὐτῷ), he asked him, “Can you see anything?” 24 And the man looked up and said, “I can see people, but they look like trees, walking.” 25 Then Jesus laid his hands on his eyes again (εἶτα πάλιν ἐπέθηκεν τὰς χεῖρας ἐπὶ τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς αὐτοῦ); and he looked intently and his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly. 26 Then he sent him away to his home, saying, “Do not even go into the village” (nrsv). 74  Jacob Kremer, Lazarus: Die Geschichte einer Auferstehung: Text, Wirkung und Botschaft von Joh 11,1–46 (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1985), 76–77; George R. Beasley-Murray, John, WBC 36 (Dallas, TX: Word, 1987), 194–195. 72 73

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demonstrate his power. Perhaps this is also the reason that Jairus’s request for a laying on of hands (v. 23) is not granted: at the decisive moment Jesus does not lay his hands on the girl but simply “takes her by the hand” (v. 41). The absence of healing substances and accompanying prayer and the denied request for the laying on of hands taken together, then, suggest Jesus’s superiority over other miracle workers. Third, Theissen makes much of the fact that there is no acclamation, no public recognition of what the miracle-worker had performed [31].75 Within the pericope itself christological titles do not play a role whatsoever. It is only within the larger frame of reference that the two miracles contribute to the understanding of the Markan Jesus as “Son of God.” Theissen suggests that the notions of acclamation and admiration may have been part of the oral setting of the episodes in which the audience responded to the miracle story (“Wunderbericht”) rather than to the miracle event (“Wundergeschehen”), and thus were not constitutive in the course of transmission.76 They do play a role in Mark’s larger setup but he apparently felt free to ignore them at times for some reason, for instance, because of his larger concern for the Messianic Secret (but see the next point). Finally, the command to secrecy [29] is part of the conventional formcritical pattern and thus only indirectly relates (if at all) to the Messianic secret: it is not Jesus’s identity but what had happened (τοῦτο) that had to be kept silent.77 This, of course, is congruent with the absence of the motif of the spread of the news [33]. In sum, based on an examination of the building blocks of this story, the Markan account of the raising of Jairus’s daughter is a self-contained story in itself which displays most of the generic features of a typical healing story.

75   Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, 163–174, on the absence of the motif of acclamation in the Markan miracles stories: this is due to Markan redaction. Cf. also Étienne Trocmé, L’Évangile selon saint Marc, CNT 2 (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 2000), 150: “Voici un récit populaire auquel il ne manque qu’un des ingrédients habituels: l’écho suscité parmi les témoins de l’acte du guérisseur. C’est l’évangéliste qui a supprimé cet élément, afin de mieux insérer ce récit à l’intérieur de celui de la fille de Jaïrus, qui reste l’objet principal sur lequel il souhaite concentrer l’attention des lecteurs.” But see Gert Lüderitz, “Rhetorik, Poetik, Kompositionstechnik im Markusevangelium,” in Markus-Philologie: Historische, literargeschichtliche und stilistische Unter­suchungen zum zweiten Evangelium, ed. Hubert Cancik, WUNT 33 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1984), 183–184, who suggests that v. 42 is comparable to a typical Chorschluß: “Chorschlüsse als Abschluß von Wundergeschichten stehen nur in der ersten Hälfte des Evangeliums. Nach dem 8. und 9. Kapitel, wo seine Schüler erkannt haben, daß Jesus der Messias und Sohn Gottes ist, sind Wunder kein eigentliches Thema mehr und haben keine Chorschlüsse.” 76   Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, 164. 77  See Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, 77–78, 143–145; Collins, Mark, 286.

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2. Literary Motifs in Mark 5:25–34 We will now turn our attention to the intervening episode of the woman with the issue of blood (vv. 25–34) and make an inventory of its formal building blocks to see if it is also a self-contained and complete story in itself. INTRODUCTION: [1] the arrival of the miracle-worker: (Jesus’s presence implied from the context); [2] the appearance of the crowd: ἐν τῷ ὄχλῳ, “in the crowd,” v. 27, 30; τὸν ὄχλον, “the crowd,” v. 31; [3] the distressed person: γυνή, “a woman,” v. 25; [4] representatives: – ; [5] embassies: – ; [6] opponents: – ; [7] reasons given for the appearance of opposite numbers: ἀκούσασα περὶ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ, “She had heard about Jesus,” v. 27.78 EXPOSITION: [8] description of the distress: οὖσα ἐν ῥύσει αἵματος δώδεκα ἔτη, “had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years,” v. 25; [9] difficulties in the approach: καὶ πολλὰ παθοῦσα ὑπὸ πολλῶν ἰατρῶν καὶ δαπανήσασα τὰ παρ᾽ αὐτῆς πάντα καὶ μηδὲν ὠφεληθεῖσα ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον εἰς τὸ χεῖρον ἐλθοῦσα, “She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse,” v. 26, and perhaps the presence of the crowd; [10] falling to the knees: προσέπεσεν αὐτῷ, “fell down before him,” v. 34 (notably after the healing!); [11] cries for help: – ; [12] pleas and expressions of trust: ἐὰν ἅψωμαι κἂν τῶν ἱματίων αὐτοῦ σωθήσομαι, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well,” v. 27; [13] misunderstand ing: βλέπεις τὸν ὄχλον συνθλίβοντά σε καὶ λέγεις· τίς μου ἥψατο; “You see the crowd pressing upon you and you say: who touched me?”; [14] scepticism and mockery: – ; [15] criticism (from opponents): – ; [16] resistance of the demon: – ; [17] pneumatic excite ment: – ; [18] assurance: θυγάτηρ … ὕπαγε εἰς εἰρήνην καὶ ἴσθι ὑγιὴς ἀπὸ τῆς μάστιγός σου, “Daughter, … go in peace, and be healed of your disease,” v. 34; [19] argument: – ; [20] withdrawal: – . CENTRE: [21] setting the scene: – ; [22] touch: ἐὰν ἅψωμαι κἂν τῶν ἱματίων αὐτοῦ, “If I but touch his clothes,” v. 28; τίς μου ἥψατο τῶν ἱματίων, “Who touched my clothes?” v. 30; τίς μου ἥψατο; “Who touched me?” v. 31; [23] healing substances: τὴν ἐξ αὐτοῦ δύναμιν ἐξελθοῦσαν, “power had come forth from him,” v. 30; [24] miracle-working word: – [25] prayer: – ; [26] recognition of the miracle: εὐθὺς ἐξηράνθη ἡ πηγὴ τοῦ αἵματος αὐτῆς, “Immediately her hemorrhage stopped,” v. 29. CONCLUSION: [27] demonstration: ἔγνω τῷ σώματι ὅτι ἴαται ἀπὸ τῆς μάστιγος, “she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease,” v. 29; εἶπεν αὐτῷ πᾶσαν τὴν ἀ λήθειαν “she told him the whole truth,” v. 33 [28] dismissal: ὕπαγε εἰς εἰρήνην καὶ ἴσθι ὑγιὴς ἀπὸ τῆς μάστιγός σου, “go in peace, and be healed of your disease,” v. 34; [29] command to secrecy: – ; [30] wonder : – ; [31] acclamation: – ; [32] rejection: – ; [33] spread of the news: –.

First, in the pericope of the haemorrhaging woman we find largely the same cluster of motifs as in the Jairus sections, except for the healing substances, if the emanating power may be taken as such [23], and the absence of representatives [4], embassies [5], and opponents [6]. Does this suggest a lonely individual in contrast with Jairus as a community leader? Second, different from the Jairus episode, this one contains an elaborate description of the difficulties in the approach caused by the failing medical profession [9], a topos in both classical and Jewish tradition (see Chapter 2: Text and Translation). Third, the notion of fear on the part of the haemorrhaging woman is an un So Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, 60.

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derstandable reaction given the bizarre circumstances and need not be taken as the proper response to a theophany, as Joel Marcus suggests.79 Of course, later (Christian) readers may have read it that way, but there is no indication in the story that this is what Mark had in mind. Fourth, the missing parts of the response of the audience and of the woman herself may well have been compensated by the concluding part of the Jairus story. As with the Jairus story, the healing of the woman is a complete story in itself. Even more than is the case with the Jairus episode, the absence of an acclamation is remarkable and may be again congruent with an oral setting (see Chapter 5: Orality and Performance). In the present literary setting, at any rate, the story of the woman is open-ended, drawing in the implied reader to ponder her own situation and her willingness to put faith in Jesus like the woman herself had done.

G. Literary Motifs in Matt 9:18–26 In Matthew, the account of the raising of the leader’s daughter and the healing of the haemorrhaging woman also forms part of a larger repertoire of healing stories. In his gospel, the following healings show up: the cleansing of a leper (8:2–4); the healing of a centurion’s servant (8:5–13); the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law (8:14–15); the healing of a paralytic (9:2–8); the healing of the Gadarene demoniacs (8:28–34); the raising of the leader’s daughter (9:18–19, 23–26); the healing of the haemorrhaging woman (9:20– 22); *the healing of two blind men (9:27–31); *the healing of one who was mute (9:32–34); the healing of the man with a withered hand (12:9–14); the casting out of a demon that was mute and blind (12:22); the healing of the Canaanite woman’s daughter (15:21–28); the healing of a boy with a demon (17:14–21), and the healing of two blind men hear Jericho (20:29–34).80 Most of these are paralleled in Mark and Luke. 1. Literary Motifs in Matt 9:18–19, 23–26 Matthew’s story of the raising of the leader’s daughter has been famous for its divergency from the other gospels. In the analysis to follow the nature of this divergence will be reviewed from a formal-structural perspective. INTRODUCTION: [1] the arrival of the miracle-worker: (Jesus’s presence implied from the context); [2] the appearance of the crowd: – ; [3] the distressed person: the dead child; [4] representatives: ἄρχων εἷς, “a leader,” representing his dead daughter, v. 18; [5] embassies: – ; [6] opponents: – ; [7] reasons given for the appearance of opposite numbers: the request for resuscitation, v. 18. EXPOSITION: [8] description of the 79   Joel Marcus, Mark 1–8: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, 2 vols., AYB 27 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000), 359–360. 80   An * indicates that the story is unique to Matthew.

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distress:

ἡ θυγάτηρ μου ἄρτι ἐτελεύτησεν, “My daughter has just died,” v. 18; [9] difthe incident with the haemorrhaging woman, vv. 20–22; [10] falling to the knees: προσεκύνει αὐτῷ, “knelt before him,” v. 18; [11] cries for help: – ; [12] pleas and expressions of trust: ἐλθὼν ἐπίθες τὴν χείρά σου ἐπ᾽ αὐτήν, καὶ ζήσεται, “come and lay your hand on her, and she will live,” v. 18; [13] misunderstanding: – ; [14] scepticism and mockery: – ; [15] criticism (from opponents): – ; [16] resistance of the demon: – ; [17] pneumatic excitement: – ; [18] assurance: – ; [19] argument: τὸ παιδίον οὐκ ἀπέθανεν ἀλλὰ καθεύδει, “the girl is not dead but sleeping,” v. 24; [20] withdrawal: – . CENTRE: [21] setting the scene: ἐλθὼν ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν τοῦ ἄρχοντος καὶ ἰδὼν τοὺς αὐλητὰς καὶ τὸν ὄχλον θορυβούμενον … ἐξεβλήθη ὁ ὄχλος εἰσελθών, “When Jesus came to the leader’s house and saw the flute players and the crowd making a commotion … the crowd had been put outside,” vv. 23–25; [22] touch: ἐπίθες τὴν χείρά σου ἐπ᾽ αὐτήν, “lay your hand on her,” v. 18, and ἐκράτησεν τῆς χειρὸς αὐτῆς, “took her by the hand,” v. 25; [23] healing substances: – ; [24] miracle-working word: – ; [25] prayer : – ; [26] recognition of the miracle: ἠγέρθη τὸ κοράσιον, “the girl got up,” v. 25. CONCLUSION: [27] demonstration: – ; [28] dismissal: – ; [29] command to secrecy: – ; [30] wonder: – ; [31] acclamation: – ; [32] rejection: – ; [33] spread of the news: καὶ ἐξῆλθεν ἡ φήμη αὕτη εἰς ὅλην τὴν γῆν ἐκείνην, “And the report of this spread throughout that district,” v. 26. ficulties in the approach:

The absence of a controversy setting, demonstrated by the absence of opponents [6], criticism [15] and rejection [32], already present in Mark, is reinforced by the absence of a crowd [2] and of an embassy [5]. Matthew has drastically reduced the number of formal building blocks in the interest of a “christological concentration” (cf. Gundry in the next chapter). Still, all major parts of a conventional miracle story (introduction, exposition, centre and conclusion) are sufficiently represented to maintain its basic character as a miracle story, even though different emphases may have been added by Matthew. Different from Mark, Matthew has no command to secrecy [29] but the stock motif of the spread of the news [33] instead. The absence of the notion of assurance [18] may result from Matthaean abbreviation. That a miracle-working word [24] is lacking is hardly coincidental in Matthew (see on this Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction). 2. Literary Motifs in Matt 9:20–22 The incident with the haemorrhaging woman (vv. 20–22) will now be analysed along the same lines as the other episodes studied thus far. INTRODUCTION: [1] the arrival of the miracle-worker: (Jesus’s presence implied from the immediate context); [2] the appearance of the crowd: – ; [3] the distressed person: γυνή, “a woman,” v. 20; [4] representatives: – ; [5] embassies: – ; [6] opponents: – ; [7] reasons given for the appearance of opposite numbers: – . EXPOSITION: [8] description of the distress: αἱμορροοῦσα δώδεκα ἔτη, “who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years,” v. 20; [9] difficulties in the approach: – ; [10] falling to the knees: – ; [11] cries for help: – ; [12] pleas and expressions of trust: ἐὰν μόνον ἅψωμαι τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ σωθήσομαι, “If I only touch his cloak, I will be made well,” (interior dialogue), v. 21; [13] misunderstanding: – ; [14] scepticism and mockery: – ; [15] criticism

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(from opponents): – ; [16] resistance of the demon: – ; [17] pneumatic excitement: – ; [18] assurance: θάρσει, θύγατερ, “Take heart, daughter,” v. 22; [19] argument: ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε, “your faith has made you well,” v. 22; [20] withdrawal: – . CENTRE: [21] setting the scene: – ; [22] touch: – ; [23] healing substances: – ; [24] miracle -working word: – ; [25] prayer : – ; [26] recognition of the miracle: ἐσώθη ἡ γυνὴ ἀπὸ τῆς ὥρας ἐκείνης, “And instantly the woman was made well,” v. 22. CONCLUSION: [27] demonstration: – ; [28] dismissal: – ; [29] command to secrecy: – ; [30] wonder : – ; [31] ac clamation: – ; [32] rejection: – ; [33] spread of the news: –.

Compared to Mark, in Matthew a dramatic reduction of building blocks has taken place; only the bare essentials remain. For some scholars this has been reason to question the form-critical classification of the episode as a miracle story. But the large contours, to be sure, have remained sufficiently intact. In the next chapter, we will try to find an explanation for this in Matthew’s editorial reworking of his Markan source.

H. Literary Motifs in Luke 8:40–56 Luke records these healings in his gospel: the healing of the man with an unclean spirit (4:31–37); the healing of Simon Peter’s mother-in-law (4:38–39); the cleansing of a leper (5:12–16); the healing of a paralytic (5:17–26); the healing of the man with a withered hand (6:6–11); the healing of a centurion’s servant (7:1–10); *the raising of the widow’s son at Nain (7:11–17); the healing of the Gerasene demoniac (8:26–39); the raising of Jairus’s daughter (8:40–42, 49–56); the healing of the haemorrhaging woman (8:43–48); the healing of a boy with a demon (9:37–43); the casting out of a demon that was mute (11:14); *the healing of a crippled woman (13:10–17); *the healing of a man with a dropsy (14:1–6); *the cleansing of ten lepers (17:11–19); the healing of a blind beggar near Jericho (18:35–43), and *the healing of the high priest’s slave (22:50–51).81 A special feature of Luke’s healing repertoire is that in the Acts a number of other healing stories and summaries are found, many of which are paralleled with gospel healings. 1. Literary Motifs in Luke 8:40–42, 49–56 Although Luke’s account of the raising of Jairus’s daughter comes close to that of Mark, it must not be taken for granted that they are therefore identical in their function. A careful consideration of the various building blocks will show that they differ more than most readers expect.

81   An * indicates that the story is unique to Luke. On the Lukan healing stories, see John T. Carroll, “Jesus as Healer in Luke-Acts,” SBLSP 33 (1994): 269–285.

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INTRODUCTION: [1] the arrival of the miracle-worker: ἐν δὲ τῷ ὑποστρέφειν τὸν Ἰησοῦν, “Now when Jesus returned,” v. 40; [2] the appearance of the crowd: ἀπεδέξατο αὐτὸν ὁ ὄχλος, “the crowd welcomed him,” v. 40; [3] the distressed person: Jairus’s daughter on the verge of death, v. 42; [4] representatives: ἦλθεν ἀνὴρ ᾧ ὄνομα Ἰάϊρος καὶ οὗτος ἄρχων τῆς συναγωγῆς ὑπῆρχεν, “there came a man named Jairus, a leader of the synagogue,” representing his dying daughter, v. 41; [5] embassies: τις παρὰ τοῦ ἀρχισυναγώγου, “someone from the leader’s house,” v. 49; [6] opponents: – ; [7] reasons given for the appearance of opposite numbers: the petition for help, vv. 41–42. EXPOSITION: [8] description of the distress: θυγάτηρ μονογενὴς ἦν αὐτῷ ὡς ἐτῶν δώδεκα καὶ αὐτὴ ἀπέθνῃσκεν, “he had an only daughter, about twelve years old, who was dying,” v. 42; [9] difficulties in the approach: οἱ ὄχλοι συνέπνιγον αὐτόν, “the crowds pressed in on him,” v. 42, and the entire incident with the haemorrhaging woman, vv. 43– 48; [10] falling to the knees: πεσὼν παρὰ τοὺς πόδας [τοῦ] Ἰησοῦ, “fell at Jesus’ feet,” v. 41; [11] cries for help: παρεκάλει αὐτὸν εἰσελθεῖν εἰς τὸν οἶκον αὐτοῦ, “begged him to come to his house,” v. 41; [12] pleas and expressions of trust: – ; [13] misunderstand ing: τέθνηκεν ἡ θυγάτηρ σου· μηκέτι σκύλλε τὸν διδάσκαλον, “Your daughter is dead; do not trouble the teacher any longer,” v. 49; [14] scepticism and mockery: καὶ κατεγέλων αὐτοῦ εἰδότες ὅτι ἀπέθανεν, “And they laughed at him, knowing that she was dead,” v. 53; [15] criticism (from opponents): – ; [16] resistance of the demon: – ; [17] pneumatic excitement: – ; [18] assurance: μὴ φοβοῦ, μόνον πίστευσον, καὶ σωθήσεται, “Do not fear. Only believe, and she will be saved,” v. 50;82 [19] argument: οὐ γὰρ ἀπέθανεν ἀλλὰ καθεύδει, “she is not dead but sleeping,” v. 52; [20] withdrawal: – . CENTRE: [21] setting the scene: ἐλθὼν δὲ εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν οὐκ ἀφῆκεν κτλ. “When he came to the house, he did not allow, etc.” v. 51; [22] touch: κρατήσας τῆς χειρὸς αὐτῆς, “he took her by the hand,” v. 54; [23] healing substances: – ; [24] miracle-working word: ἡ παῖς, ἔγειρε, “Child, get up!” v. 54; [25] – prayer: – ; [26] recognition of the miracle: καὶ ἐπέστρεψεν τὸ πνεῦμα αὐτῆς καὶ ἀνέστη παραχρῆμα, “Her spirit returned and she got up at once,” v. 55; CONCLUSION: [27] demonstration: – ; [28] dismissal: – ; [29] command to secrecy: ὁ δὲ παρήγγειλεν αὐτοῖς μηδενὶ εἰπεῖν τὸ γεγονός, “but he ordered them to tell no one what had happened,” v. 56; [30] wonder: ἐξέστησαν οἱ γονεῖς αὐτῆς, “Her parents were astounded,” v. 56; [31] acclamation: –; [32] rejection: – ; [33] spread of the news: –.

The differences with Mark are minimal. Luke strengthens Jesus’s reassuring reaction to Jairus by adding καὶ σωθήσεται, “and she will be saved” [18]. There is no formal request for the laying on of hands, only the remark that Jesus took the girl by the hand [22]. And, as elsewhere in Luke’s Gospel, the Aramaic has been left out from the miracle-working word [24].83 As in Mark, there is no rejection [32] at the end of the story. But whereas in Mark the larger literary setting brings in a note of rejection in the immediate context, this is not the case in Luke, where the episode is followed by the mission of the Twelve (9:1–6) and the rejection has been transposed to the very beginning of the public ministry of Jesus (4:16–30).

  Fischbach, Totenerweckungen, 11: “Prognose.”   See below, Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction, under Luke 8:54.

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2. Literary Motifs in Luke 8:43–48 As in the two other gospels, Luke’s middle section (vv. 43–48) is a relatively independent narrative unit, comprising an introduction, an exposition, a centre and a conclusion. INTRODUCTION: [1] the arrival of the miracle-worker: (Jesus’s presence implied from the immediate context); [2] the appearance of the crowd: (the presence of the crowd implied from the immediate context, and affirmed in v. 45 οἱ ὄχλοι συνέχουσίν σε καὶ ἀποθλίβουσιν, “the crowds surround you and press in on you,” and v. 47 παντὸς τοῦ λαοῦ, “in the presence of all the people”; [3] the distressed person: γυνή, “a woman,” v. 43; [4] representatives: – ; [5] embassies: – ; [6] opponents: – ; [7] reasons given for the appearance of opposite numbers: – . EXPOSITION: [8] description of the distress: οὖσα ἐν ῥύσει αἵματος ἀπὸ ἐτῶν δώδεκα, ἥτις [ἰατροῖς προσαναλώσασα ὅλον τὸν βίον] οὐκ ἴσχυσεν ἀπ’ οὐδενὸς θεραπευθῆναι, “who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years, and though she had spent all she had on physicians, no one could cure her,” v. 43; [9] difficulties in the approach: οἱ ὄχλοι συνέχουσίν σε καὶ ἀποθλίβουσιν, “the crowds surround you and press in on you,” v. 45; [10] falling to the knees: προσπεσοῦσα αὐτῷ, “falling down before him,” v. 47 (after the healing!); [11] cries for help: – ; [12] pleas and expressions of trust: – ; [13] misunderstanding: ἀρνουμένων δὲ πάντων εἶπεν ὁ Πέτρος· ἐπιστάτα, οἱ ὄχλοι συνέχουσίν σε καὶ ἀποθλίβουσιν, “When all denied it, Peter said, ‘Master, the crowds surround you and press in on you,’” v. 45; [14] scepticism and mockery: – ; [15] criticism (from opponents): – ; [16] resistance of the demon: – ; [17] pneumatic excitement: ἐγὼ γὰρ ἔγνων δύναμιν ἐξεληλυθυῖαν ἀπ’ ἐμοῦ (?), “for I noticed that power had gone out of me,” v. 46; [18] assurance: θυγάτηρ … πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην, “Daughter … go in peace,” v. 48; [19] argument: ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε, “your faith has made you well,” v. 48; [20] withdrawal: – . CENTRE: [21] setting the scene: προσελθοῦσα ὄπισθεν, “She came up behind him,” v. 44; [22] touch: (the woman) ἥψατο τοῦ κρασπέδου τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ, “touched the fringe of his clothes,” v. 44; [23] healing substances: τοῦ κρασπέδου τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ, “the fringe of his clothes,” v. 44; [24] miracle-working word: – ; [25] prayer: – ; [26] recognition of the miracle: παραχρῆμα ἔστη ἡ ῥύσις τοῦ αἵματος αὐτῆς, “immediately her hemorrhage stopped,” v. 44. CONCLUSION: [27] demonstration: ἀπήγγειλεν … ὡς ἰάθη παραχρῆμα, “she declared … how she had been immediately healed,” v. 47; [28] dismissal: πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην, “go in peace,” v. 48; [29] command to secrecy: – ; [30] wonder: – ; [31] acclamation: ἀπήγγειλεν ἐνώπιον παντὸς τοῦ λαοῦ, “in the presence of all the people,” v. 47;84 [32] rejection: – ; [33] spread of the news: –.

Again, the differences with Mark are minimal. Some of them may be the result of Luke’s summarizing treatment of Mark. While in Mark the reader gets insight into the woman’s deliberations [12], there is no such element in Luke. Likewise, whereas the element of demonstration [27] in Mark refers to the woman’s inner feelings, in Luke it takes the form of a verbal testimony. Otherwise, while Mark’s preferred christological title is Son of God, in Luke it is Saviour (Σωτήρ),85 which is particularly fitting in the present episode.86  So Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, 167.  Cf. Jantsch, Jesus, der Retter. 86   Carroll, “Jesus as Healer,” 269–285. 84 85

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As we will see in the next chapter (Tradition and Redaction), Luke is more focused on externals.

I. Conclusion Drawing the lines of this chapter together, we are now in a position to draw some conclusions vis-à-vis the form and structure of the episodes. These conclusions will of course be provisional and in need of further corroboration in the following chapters but they will help us to set at least some goalposts for what comes. First of all, it has turned out that each version is firmly embedded in the larger gospel context. Regardless of their provenance, these stories as we now have them, intercalated and all, are each integral to the individual gospel’s makeup. Especially Luke’s account stands out, connected as it is not only to the rest of his gospel narrative but also to the Acts of the Apostles. The net result is that we have three different “performances,” or more accurately “scripts” of/for a performance (see on the Chapter 5: Orality and Performance) of one and the same gospel story. Second, the predominantly synchronic approach of this chapter – the Synoptic pericopes were studied from a formal-aesthetic point of view – led to some observations that in turn stimulated diachronic speculations. For instance, while the remarkable lack of an acclamation can be accounted for on literary grounds (the recognition of Jesus as a miracle-worker becomes sufficiently clear from the overall literary setting in which the episode(s) is/are recounted), it may also be a trace of an oral prehistory, as Gerd Theissen has suggested with no particular reference to our pericope. In contrast with the raising of the widow’s son at Nain, for instance, which concludes with as clear an acclamation as one can get (Luke 7:16),87 the recognition of Jesus and/or God as the source of the healings of Jairus’s daughter and the woman with the haemorrhage in the current gospel texts is left to the reader/hearer. Isolated from the present literary setting, however, it can be argued with equal plausibility that when the story was told in an oral setting by a story-teller (be it from memory or from notes) the audience present at the performance would (or at least was expected to) carry out the acclamation. We will come back to this in Chapter 5 (Orality and Performance). For now it suffices to conclude that there are textual indications that keep the possibility at least open. Third, the traditional form critics of the first hour usually sought to connect miracle stories to a single, more or less fixed Sitz im Leben (social set87   (ἔλαβεν δὲ φόβος πάντας καὶ ἐδόξαζον τὸν θεὸν λέγοντες ὅτι) προφήτης μέγας ἠγέρθη ἐν ἡμῖν (καὶ ὅτι) ἐπεσκέψατο ὁ θεὸς τὸν λαὸν αὐτοῦ. This seems to confirm Nico Riemersma’s conclusion (Aan de dode een wonder gedaan) that Luke 7:11–17 is a Lukan (textual) composition.

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ting), for example for evangelistic purposes or for community instruction. Nowadays, it is more easily recognized that the function of early-Christian stories must have been much more flexible and applicable to a wide(r) variety of settings.88 In their present literary settings the stories are part of an increasing conflict that ultimately leads to the execution of Jesus. But in this chapter we have also found reason to believe that – at one stage or another – the stories were transmitted (or at least could have been transmitted) with no apparent controversy setting, unlike the sabbath healings which were controversial almost by definition. Heeding the New Form Critics’ warning that attempts to restrict the story (stories) to a single concern or unique life setting, it can be well imagined that the episode of Jairus and (that of) the woman with haemorrhages could satisfy a number of concerns, be it pastoral (how to keep faith under critical circumstances) or christological (Jesus as healer and conqueror of death) or whatever else concern there may have been. On all accounts, readers are users of texts and their use does not always follow the rules of a form-critical textbook. Fourth, from the analysis of the three episodes it turned out that the raising of Jairus’s (the leader’s) daughter and the healing of the haemorrhaging woman were complete stories in themselves. This does not prove that the stories were transmitted independently, but, anticipating what comes in the two following chapters, based on the examination so far, it must be acknowledged that this would at least be a possibility. In the next chapter, a more rigorous diachronic analysis will be conducted to find out whether the intuitions of this chapter can be verified and whether it is possible on the basis of the texts we have to draw firmer conclusions about their written (Chapter 4) and oral (Chapter 5) prehistory.

  Berger, Formen und Gattungen, 1–72.

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Table 1: The Pericope Divisions in the Greek MSS Tradition The Gospel of Matthew 1:1–25 (25 vv.) (1) 2:1–15 (15 vv.) (2) 2:16–23 (8 vv.) (3) 3:1–4:16 (33 vv.) (4) 4:17–25 (9 vv.) (5) 5:1–7:29 (111 vv.) (6) 8:1–4 (4 vv.) (7) 8:5–13 (9 vv.) (8) 8:14–15 (2 vv.) (9) 8:16–18 (3 vv.) (10) 8:19–22 (4 vv.) (11) 8:23–27 (5 vv.) (12) 8:28–9:1 (8 vv.) (13) 9:2–8 (7 vv.) (14) 9:9–17 (9 vv.) (15) 9:18–19 (2 vv.) (16) 9:20–26 (7 vv.) (17) 9:27–31 (5 vv.) (18) 9:32–38 (7 vv.) (19) 10:1–11:14 (3 vv.) (20) 11:2–12:8 (37 vv.) (21) 12:9–21 (13 vv.) (22) 12:22–37 (16 vv.) (23) 12:38–13:2 (15 vv.) (24) 13:3–58 (56 vv.) (25) 14:1–14 (14 vv.) (26) 14:15–21 (7 vv.) (27) 14:22–36 (15 vv.) (28) 15:1–21 (21 vv.) (29) 15:22–28 (7 vv.) (30) 15:29–31 (3 vv.) (31) 15:32–16:4 (12 vv.) (32) 16:5–12 (8 vv.) (33) 16:13–28 (16 vv.) (34) 17:1–13 (13 vv.) (35) 17:14–23 (10 vv.) (36) 17:24–27 (4 vv.) (37) 18:1–11 (11 vv.) (38) 18:12–22 (11 vv.) (39) 18:23–19:2 (15 vv.) (40) 19:3–15 (13 vv.) (41) 19:16–30 (15 vv.) (42) 20:1–19 (19 vv.) (43) 20:20–28 (9 vv.)

(44) 20:29–34 (6 vv.) (45) 21:1–13 (13 vv.) (46) 21:14–17 (4 vv.) (47) 21:18–22 (5 vv.) (48) 21:23–27 (5 vv.) (49) 21:28–32 (5 vv.) (50) 21:33–46 (14 vv.) (51) 22:1–14 (14 vv.) (52) 22:15–22 (22b?) (8 vv.) (53) 22:23 (22b)–33 (11 vv.) (54) 22:34–40 (7 vv.) (55) 22:41–46 (6 vv.) (56) 23:1–24:2 (41 vv.) (57) 24:3–35 (33 vv.) (58) 24:36–51 (15 vv.) (59) 25:1–13 (13 vv.) (60) 25:14–30 (17 vv.) (61) 25:31–26:5 (21 vv.) (62) 26:6–16 (11 vv.) (63) 26:17–25 (9 vv.) (64) 26:26–46 (21 vv.) (65) 26:47–68 (22 vv.) (66) 26:69–27:2 (9 vv.) (67) 27:3–56 (43 vv.) (68) 27:57–28:20 (30 vv.)

The Gospel of Mark 1:1–22 (22 vv.) (1) 1:23–28 (6 vv.) (2) 1:29–31 (3 vv.) (3) 1:32–39 (8 vv.) (4) 1:40–2:2 (8 vv.) (5) 2:3–12 (10 vv.) (6) 2:13–28 (16 vv.) (7) 3:1–12 (10 vv.) (8) 3:13–4:1 (24 vv.) (9) 4:2–34 (33 vv.) (10) 4:35–41 (7 vv.) (11) 5:1–21 (21 vv.) (12) 5:22–24 (3 vv.) (13) 5:25–6:6 (25 vv.) (14) 6:7–13 (7 vv.) (15) 6:14–33 (20 vv.) (16) 6:34–46 (13 vv.) (17) 6:47–56 (10 vv.)

(18) 7:1–23 (23 vv.) (19) 7:24–30 (7 vv.) (20) 7:31–37 (7 vv.) (21) 8:1–14 (14 vv.) (22) 8:15–21 (7 vv.) (23) 8:22–26 (5 vv.) (24) 8:27–9:1 (13 vv.) (25) 9:2–16 (15 vv.) (26) 9:17–32 (16 vv.) (27) 9:33–10:1 (19 vv.) (28) 10:2–16 (15 vv.) (29) 10:17–34 (18 vv.) (30) 10:35–45 (11 vv.) (31) 10:46–52 (7 vv.) (32) 11:1–11 (11 vv.) (33) 11:12–24 (13 vv.) (34) 11:25–26 (1 /2 vv.) (35) 11:27–33 (7 vv.) (36) 12:1–12 (12 vv.) (37) 12:13–17 (5 vv.) (38) 12:18–27 (10 vv.) (39) 12:28–34 (7 vv.) (40) 12:35–40 (6 vv.) (41) 12:41–13:2 (6 vv.) (42) 13:3–31 (29 vv.) (43) 13:32–14:2 (8 vv.) (44) 14:3–11 (9 vv.) (45) 14:12–17 (6 vv.) (46) 14:18–65 (48 vv.) (47) 14:66–15:41 (48 vv.) (48) 15:42–16:8 (14 vv.)

The Gospel of Luke 1:1–80 (80 vv.) (1) 2:1–7 (7 vv.) (2) 2:8–24 (17 vv.) (3) 2:25–35 (11 vv.) (4) 2:36–52 (17 vv.) (5) 3:1–9 (9 vv.) (6) 3:10–38 (29 vv.) (7) 4:1–32 (32 vv.) (8) 4:33–37 (5 vv.) (9) 4:38–39 (2 vv.) (10) 4:10–5:3 (38 vv.) (11) 5:4–11 (8 vv.)

Table 1: Pericope Divisions in the Greek MSS Tradition (12) 5:12–17 (6 vv.) (13) 5:18–26 (9 vv.) (14) 5:27–6:5 (18 vv.) (15) 6:6–12 (7 vv.) (16) 6:13–19 (7 vv.) (17) 6:20–49 (30 vv.) (18) 7:1–10 (10 vv.) (19) 7:11–17 (7 vv.) (20) 7:18–35 (8 vv.) (21) 7:36–8:3 (18 vv.) (22) 8:4–21 (18 vv.) (23) 8:22–26 (5 vv.) (24) 8:27–39 (13 vv.) (25) 8:40–42 (3 vv.) (26) 8:43–56 (14 vv.) (27) 9:1–11 (11 vv.) (28) 9:12–17 (6 vv.) (29) 9:18–27 (10 vv.) (30) 9:28–37 (10 vv.) (31) 9:38–45 (8 vv.) (32) 9:46–56 (11 vv.) (33) 9:57–62 (6 vv.) (34) 10:1–24 (24 vv.) (35) 10:25–29 (5 vv.)

(36) 10:30–37 (8 vv.) (37) 10:38–42 (5 vv.) (38) 11:1–13 (13 vv.) (39) 11:14–26 (13 vv.) (40) 11:27–28 (2 vv.) (41) 11:29–36 (vv.) (42) 11:37–45 (vv.) (43) 11:46–54 (vv.) (44) 12:1–12 (vv.) (45) 12:13–15 (vv.) (46) 12:16–59 (vv.) (47) 13:1–9 (vv.) (48) 13:10–17 (vv.) (49) 13:18–22 (vv.) (50) 13:23–30 (vv.) (51) 13:31–14:1 (vv.) (52) 14:2–6 (vv.) (53) 14:7–15 (vv.) (54) 14:16–27 (vv.) (55) 14:28–15:2 (vv.) (56) 15:3–10 (vv.) (57) 15:11–32 (vv.) (58) 16:1–18 (18 vv.) (59) 16:19–17:10 (23 vv.)

(60) 17:11–37 (27 vv.) (61) 18:1–8 (8 vv.) (62) 18:9–17 (9 vv.) (63) 18:18–34 (17 vv.) (64) 18:35–43 (9 vv.) (65) 19:1–11 (11 vv.) (66) 19:12 (1 v.) (67) 19:13–28 (16 vv.) (68) 19:29–48 (20 vv.) (69) 20:1–8 (8 vv.) (70) 20:9–19 (11 vv.) (71) 20:20–26 (7 vv.) (72) 20:27–40 (14 vv.) (73) 20:41–47 (7 vv.) (74) 21:1–4 (4 vv.) (75) 21:5–38 (34 vv.) (76) 22:1–23 (23 vv.) (77) 22:24–30 (7 vv.) (78) 22:31–23:10 (51 vv.) (79) 23:11–26 (16 vv.) (80) 23:27–38 (10 vv.) (81) 23:39–49 (11 vv.) (82) 23:50–24:12 (19 vv.) (83) 24:13–53 (41 vv.)

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Tradition and Redaction A. Introduction To clear the ground for what follows, some of the terms employed in this chapter need to be defined, our understanding of the Synoptic problem made explicit, and the textual approach taken here set in relation to the one taken in the next chapter (Chapter 5: Orality and Performance). To begin with, tradition criticism (Traditionsgeschichte) is concerned with the study of the development of gospel material through its successive stages, from Jesus and the earliest (Aramaic and/or Greek?) stages of transmission to the wider Palestinian and Hellenistic world in the Mediterranean, in both its oral and written form. Redaction criticism (Redaktionsgeschichte) studies the editorial work carried out by the gospel writers on their sources.1 Sometimes redaction criticism is treated as a synonym of composition criticism (Kompositionsgeschichte), although this term is not necessarily restricted to the author’s handling of traditional material but may also be used for free invention or new literary creations.   Karl Ludwig Schmidt, Der Rahmen der Geschichte Jesu: Literarkritische Untersuchungen zur ältesten Jesusüberlieferung (Berlin: Trowitzsch, 1919; repr. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1969); Rudolf Bultmann, Die Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, mit einem Nachwort von Gerd Theissen, FRLANT 29 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1921, 101995); Hans Conzelmann, Die Mitte der Zeit: Studien zur Theologie des Lukas, BHT 17 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1954, 61977); Ernst Haenchen, Der Weg Jesu: Eine Erklärung des Markus-Evangeliums und der kanonischen Parallelen, STö.H 6 (Berlin: Töpelmann, 1966, 21968), 204–213; Norman Perrin, What is Redaction Criticism? (London: SPCK, 1970); Ian Howard Marshall, ed., New Testament Interpretation: Essays in Principles and Methods (Exeter: Paternoster, 1977, 21979), especially the contributions of David Wenham, “Source Criticism” (139–152), David R. Catchpole, “Tradition History” (165–180), and Stephen S. Smalley, “Redaction Criticism” (181–195); Robert H. Stein, “Redaction Criticism (NT),” ABD (1992), 5:647–650; Douglas A. Knight, “Tradition History,” ABD (1992), 6:633–638; Bruce D. Chilton, “Traditio-Historical Criticism and Study of Jesus,” in Hearing the New Testament: Strategies for Interpretation, ed. Joel B. Green (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; Carlisle: Paternoster, 1995), 37–60; David R. Catchpole, “Source, Form and Redaction Criticism of the New Testament,” in A Handbook to the Exegesis of the New Testament, ed. Stanley E. Porter, NTTS 25 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 167–188; Otto Merk, “Redaktionsgeschichte/Redaktionskritik II: Neues Testament,” TRE 28 (1997): 378–384; idem, “Traditionsgeschichte/Traditionskritik II: Neues Testament,” TRE 33 (2002): 744–750. 1

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Conclusions about tradition and redaction depend to a large degree upon prior decisions taken with regard to the Synoptic problem. In what follows I will take Markan priority, with Matthew and Luke (independent from one another) depending on Mark, as a starting point for further investigation.2 Special attention will be paid to the minor agreements (the Matthew-Luke agreements over against Mark) as these are sometimes taken not only as indicative of the use of distinct copies or recensions of the Markan source but as evidence of sources beyond Mark and hence a potential threat to the Two-Source hypothesis. They constitute, at any rate, a complicating factor in the source-critical analysis of the text.3 Albert Fuchs (1992) instances 13 minor agreements in our pericopes 4: 1. ἰδού Matt 9:18 | Luke 8:41 against Mark 5:22; 2. the aorist of προσελθών (προσεκύνει) Matt 9:18 (= NA 25!) | ἦλθεν Luke 8:41 against ἔρχεται Mark 5:22; 3. the imperfect tenses προσεκύνει Matt 9:18 and (πεσὼν…) and παρεκάλει Luke 8:41 against the historical presents πίπτει Mark 5:22 and παρακαλεῖ 5:23; 4. ἄρχων Matt 9:18 | ἄρχων (τῆς συναγωγῆς) Luke 8:41 against (εἷς τῶν) ἀρχισυναγώγων Mark 5:22; 5. θυγάτηρ Matt 9:18 | Luke 8:42 against the Markan diminutive θυγάτριόν Mark 5:23; 6. ἐτελεύτησεν Matt 9:18 | ἀπέθνῃσκεν Luke 8:42 against Mark’s vulgar ἐσχάτως ἔχει Mark 5:23; 7. προσελθοῦσα ὄπισθεν ἥψατο τοῦ κρασπέδου τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ Matt 9:20 | Luke 8:44 against ἐλθοῦσα ἐν τῷ ὄχλῳ ὄπισθεν ἥψατο τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ Mark 5:27; 8. ἐλθὼν … εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν Matt 9:23 | Luke 2   Joseph A. Fitzmyer, “The Priority of Mark and the ‘Q’ Source in Luke,” in To Advance the Gospel: New Testament Studies, BRS (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; Livonia: Dove, [1981], 21998), 3–40; Udo Schnelle, Einleitung in das Neue Testament, UTB 1830 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1994, 82013), 193–331, esp. 205–242. 3   On the minor agreements in general, see Burnett Hillman Streeter, The Four Gospels: A Study of Origins Treating of the Manuscript Tradition, Sources, Authorship and Dates (London: Macmillan, 1924, 21930), 293–334 [Streeter, to be sure, would explain most of the minor agreements in our pericope as irrelevant or deceptive (i.e. the result of independent editing) or due to textual corruption (so τοῦ κρασπέδου, 313, see below, Appendix I: Text and Transmission)]; Frans Neirynck, in collaboration with Theo Hansen and Frans van Segbroeck, The Minor Agreements of Matthew and Luke against Mark, with a Cumulative List, BETL 37 (Gembloux: Duculot, 1974) (101–105 on our pericopes); idem, “La matière marcienne dans l’évangile de Luc,” in idem, Evangelica: Gospel Studies – Études d’Évangile, vol. 1 of Collected Essays, 2 vols., ed. Frans van Segbroeck, BETL 60 (Leuven: Peeters, Leuven University Press, 1982), 37–82; idem, “Deuteromarcus et les accords Matthieu-Luc,” in idem, Evangelica, 1:769–780; idem, “The Minor Agreements and the Two-Source Theory,” in Evangelica II: 1982–1991, vol. 2 of Collected Essays, 2 vols., ed. Frans van Segbroeck, BETL 99 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, Peeters, 1991), 3–42; Georg Strecker, ed., Die Minor Agreements: Symposium Göttingen 1991, GTA 50 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1993); Andreas Ennulat, Die “Minor Agreements”: Untersuchungen zu einer offenen Frage des synoptischen Problems, WUNT 2/62 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1994); Mark S. Goodacre, The Case Against Q: Studies in Markan Priority and the Synoptic Problem (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2002), 152–169. 4  Albert Fuchs, “Schrittweises Wachstum: Zur Entwicklung der Perikope Mk 5,21–43 par Mt 9, 18–26 par Lk 8, 40–56,” SNTSU 17 (1992): 5–53. Cf. also Gérard Rochais, Les récits de résurrection des morts dans le Nouveau Testament, SNTSMS 40 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981), 83–86.

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8:51 against ἔρχονται εἰς τὸν οἶκον Mark 5:38; 9. ἔλεγεν Matt 9:24 | εἶπεν Luke 8:52 against λέγει αὐτοῖς Mark 5:39; 10. The imperative ἀναχωρεῖτε Matt 9:24 | (μὴ) κλαίετε Luke 8:52 against Mark’s interrogative τί θορυβεῖσθε καὶ κλαίετε; Mark 5:39; 11. οὐ γὰρ ἀπέθανεν Matt 9:24 | Luke 8:52 against οὐκ ἀπέθανεν Mark 5:39; 12. (τῆς χειρὸς) αὐτῆς Matt 9:25 | Luke 8:54 against (τῆς χειρὸς) τοῦ παιδίου Mark 5:41; 13. Matt 9:26 καὶ ἐξῆλθεν ἡ φήμη αὕτη εἰς ὅλην τὴν γῆν ἐκείνην | Luke 4:14 καὶ φήμη ἐξῆλθεν καθ’ ὅλης τῆς περιχώρου περὶ αὐτοῦ. Andreas Ennulat’s list of minor agreements (1994) is more or less identical to Fuchs’s, albeit that he also instances the common omissions.5 He mentions the omission/absence of ἀκούσασα περὶ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ (Mark 5:27 against Matt 9:20 | Luke 8:44), the afterthought καὶ ἴσθι ὑγιὴς ἀπὸ τῆς μάστιγός σου (Mark 5:34d against Matt 9:22 | Luke 8:48), the subject τὸ παιδίον (Mark 5:39 against Matt 9:24 | Luke 8:52), εὐθύς in response to Jesus’ command (Mark 5:42, which is omitted by Matt 9:25 and replaced by Luke by his favourite παραχρῆμα (Luke 8:55), and the girl’s walking around as a demonstrative act (Mark 5:42 καὶ περιεπάτει).

I further assume that the stories about Jesus did not circulate in a vacuum but were part of a living oral culture which may well have had an impact on the gospel writers. The viability of this assumption will be discussed in the next chapter. The conclusions of the present chapter will therefore, of necessity, be provisional and incomplete. The classic alternative to the Two-Source hypothesis adopted in this investigation is the Griesbach (Two-Gospel) hypothesis, which, in a nutshell, claims that Mark was dependent on Matthew and Luke: “In composing his book, Mark had before him not merely the Gospel of Matthew, but also that of Luke, and from them he extracted what he recorded about the acts, words, and experiences of the Saviour.”6 If this is true, many of the observations to follow call for a quite different assessment and lead to a different reconstruction of the story’s genesis and interconnectedness. Griesbach’s (and others’) dissenting voice will therefore need to be heard constantly in the background. However, to avoid unnecessary repetition of the same critique over and over again, it may be helpful to tackle Griesbach’s treatment of the pericope first. How did he explain the varieties in this case? In response to the objection that the discrepancy between Mark and Matthew (which, according to Griesbach, was Mark’s primary source) was against his theory, he argued that Mark, in this particular case (i.e. the episode of the raising of Jairus’s daughter), has corrected Matthew’s version under the influence of his reading of Luke: [Objection:] Mark 5:23 relates the synagogue official as saying: “My daughter is in extremity,” whereas Matthew says (9:18) the girl “has just died”; Luke seems to agree with   Ennulat, Minor Agreements, 150–157; also Neirynck, Minor Agreements, 101–105.   Johann Jakob Griesbach, “Commentatio qua Marci Evangelium totum e Matthaei et Lucae commentariis decerptum esse monstratur” (1789–1790), quoted from Bo Reicke, “Griesbach’s Answer to the Synoptic Question,” trans. by Ronald Wahls, in J.J. Griesbach: Synoptic and Text-Critical Studies 1776–1976, ed. J. Bernard Orchard and Thomas R.W. Longstaff, SNTSMS 34 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978), 53–54. 5 6

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this (“quocum Lucas consentire videtur”) (8:42) when he says “she was dying” (“αὐτὴ ἀπέθνῃσκεν”). [Resp.:] If Mark here took Matthew as his guide, it should not appear strange that the later writer narrated the whole incident more fully, more accurately and more correctly (“plenius, accuratius ac rectius totam rem enarrasse”) than the earlier writer treated it. But Mark has taken all these things out of Luke …. Now Luke (verse 42) reads: “she was dying”. But from verse 49 it is clear that the girl was not yet dead. Mark therefore having compared the authentic interpretation furnished by Luke at verse 49 (“col­lata interpretatione authentica ab auctore commate 49. suppeditata”), changed the ambiguous phrase of verse 42 for a clearer one in perfect conformity with Luke’s thinking (“menti Lucae convenientis­sime”). And hence it is clear at the same time that there is no basis at all for the view of those who add this passage to those from which they think it can be proved that the three Evangelists used a Hebrew archetype and deceived by its ambigu­ity rendered the same Hebrew phrase in different ways not easily reconciled. There is perfect agreement between Mark and Luke provided Luke’s verse 42 is explained by verse 49 (“dummodo Lucae comma 42. e commate 49. explicetur”). Nor does Matthew disagree. For, since he omit­t ed what we find in Luke’s verse 49 about the death of the girl, Matthew had to refer to her as dead from the very start of his shorter narrative, where Luke and Mark relate that the spirit of the girl was still alive.7

Whether Griesbach’s solution requires us to change our initial position with regard to the Synoptic problem will be determined after we have analysed the texts in detail. Taking the text of NA 28 as our starting point, we start with some “hard” statistics: Mark 5:21–43 has 374 words; Matt 9:18–26 has 138 words, and Luke 8:40–56 has 287 words.8

B. Tradition and Redaction in Mark 5:21–43 Building on earlier research on our pericope, typical questions to be asked in a tradition-redaction analysis of the text are the following: Was Mark the first author to relate the episode of the raising of Jairus’s daughter? Was he 7    Griesbach, “Commentatio,” in Orchard and Longstaff, eds., Griesbach, Synoptic and Text-Critical Studies, 99 (Lat.), 132 (trans. J.B. Orchard). 8  Counting based on NA28. These numbers slightly differ from the statistics by Robert Morgenthaler, Statistische Synopse (Zurich: Gotthelf, 1971), 40–41, which are based on NA25 and do not include Mark 5:21 | Matt 9:26 | Luke 8:40 (which is taken as the ending of the previous paragraph rather than the introduction to the Jairus pericope). The differences in Luke 8:41–43, 52 are due to textual variations (NA28’s words in square brackets in vv. 41–53 being absent in NA25; the former reads in v. 52 οὐ γάρ instead of οὐκ). A very helpful tool to do statistical research into the synoptic gospels and Acts is Paul Hoffmann, Thomas Hieke, and Ulrich Bauer, eds., Synoptic Concordance: A Greek Concordance to the First Three Gospels in Synoptic Arrangement, Statistically Evaluated, including Occurrences in Acts. / Griechische Konkordanz zu den ersten drei Evangelien in synoptischer Darstellung, statistisch ausgewertet, mit Berücksichtigung der Apostelgeschichte, 4 vols. (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1999–2000).

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the first to tell the story of the healing of the haemorrhaging woman? Is he responsible for combining the two stories or did he find them already combined in his source(s)? Are there typical Markan features in the story that suggest Markan influence on the wording? Are there typically un-Markan features in the story that might suggest the use of one or more sources? Is it possible to restore the content of (a) pre-Markan layer(s) of tradition to a plausible degree? Did the story already circulate, orally or in writing, in an Aramaic-speaking environment or has it been transmitted in Greek from the start? In the absence of unambiguous comparative material the detection of sources and redaction is more complicated in the Gospel of Mark than it is in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke where, at least according to the TwoSource hypothesis, we do have comparative material (i.e. Mark and Q) at hand. For the study of sources in Mark one is almost exclusively dependent on indications in the narratives themselves, such as stylistic inconsistencies, editorial “seams,” duplications, apparent dislocations and key word-connections. The first step, then, to establish Mark’s use or non-use of source material is the study of his style in order to identify his literary “fingerprints” so to speak. All of this remains hypothetical to a large degree and it is only from a broader perspective, having studied all the evidence available, that we may hope to be able to draw firmer conclusions, even though absolute certainty on these matters will probably never be reached. This need not, however, deter the biblical critic from at least making the attempt. 1. Markan Fingerprints: General Observations The Gospel of Mark has 75 New Testament hapax legomena, three of which are found in the present pericope (the adverb ἐσχάτως and the Aramaic words κουμ and ταλιθα).9 Among Mark’s best known redactional markers are the frequent use of parataxis, the abundant employment of εὐθύς and πάλιν, the frequent use of the historic present, the device of intercalation, and the use of parentheses, impersonal verbs and catchword connections.10   VKGNT 2:449.   A number of studies have been published on the style of Mark that are most helpful in detecting the special fingerprints of Mark: John C. Hawkins, Horae Synopticae: Contributions to the Study of the Synoptic Problem (Oxford: Clarendon, 1909, 21969); Max Zerwick, Untersuchungen zum Markus-Stil: Ein Beitrag zur stilistischen Durcharbeitung des Neuen Testaments, SPIB 7 (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1937); John Charles Doudna, The Greek of the Gospel of Mark, JBLMS 12 (Philadelphia: Society of Biblical Literature and Exegesis, 1961); Frans Neirynck, Duality in Mark: Contributions to the Study of the Markan Redaction, BETL 31 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, Peeters, 1972, 21988); Nigel Turner, “The Style of Mark,” in James Hope Moulton, A Grammar of New Testament Greek, 4 vols., ed. Nigel Turner (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1976), 4:11–30; Edgar John Pryke, Redactional Style in the Marcan Gospel: A Study of Syntax and Vocabulary as Guides to Redaction in Mark, SNTSMS 9

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From a study of the style and composition technique of the text some interesting observations emerge. First, many scholars have observed that the whole pericope is a school example of the so-called “sandwich technique,” in which a pericope is interrupted by another before it comes to completion (an A-B-A′ scheme). As has been demonstrated by Markan specialists, this procedure is typical for Mark.11 Most scholars identify at least five passages as Markan sandwiches or intercalations: 3:20–35 (Jesus and his family, the Beelzebul controversy, the true kindred of Jesus); 5:21–43 (the request of Jairus for the healing of his daughter, the healing of the haemorrhaging woman, the raising of Jairus’s daughter); 6:7–30 (the mission of the Twelve, the death of John the Baptist, the return of the Twelve); 11:12–21 (the cursing of the fig tree, the cleansing of the temple, the withering of the fig tree); 14:1–11 (the plot to kill Jesus, the anointing at Bethany, Judas agrees to betray Jesus). James Edwards has argued for four more instances: 4:1–20 (the parable of the sower, the purpose of the parables, the explanation of the parable of the sower); 14:17–31 (the prediction of the betrayal, the institution of the Lord’s supper, the prediction of Peter’s denial), 53–72 (Peter follows Jesus to the high priest’s court yard, 33 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978); Elliott C. Maloney, Semitic Interference in Markan Syntax, SBLDS 51 (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1981); Peter Dschulnigg, Sprache, Redaktion und Intention des Markusevangeliums, SBB 11 (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1984), 18–27; Marius Reiser, Syntax und Stil des Markusevangeliums im Licht der hellenistischen Volksliteratur, WUNT 2/11 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1984); Frans Neirynck, “Words Characteristic of Mark: A New List” (1987), in Evangelica II: 1982–1991, vol. 2 of Collected Essays, 2 vols., ed. Frans van Segbroeck, BETL 99 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, Peeters, 1991), 339–346; J. Keith Elliott, The Language and Style of the Gospel of Mark: An Edition of C.H. Turner’s “Notes on Marcan Usage” Together with Other Comparable Studies, NovTSup 71 (Leiden: Brill, 1993); Rodney J. Decker, “Markan Idiolect in the Study of the Greek of the New Testament,” in The Language of the New Testament: Context, History, and Development, ed. Stanley E. Porter and Andrew W. Pitts, LingBS 6 (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 43–66; Armin D. Baum, “Mark’s Paratactic καί as a Secondary Syntactic Semitism,” NovT 58 (2016): 1–26. 11   See on the Markan sandwiches/intercalations: Ernst von Dobschütz, “Zur Erzählerkunst des Markus,” ZNW 27 (1928): 193–199; James R. Edwards, “Markan Sandwiches: The Significance of Interpolations in Markan Narratives,” NovT 31 (1989): 193–216; Geert van Oyen, “Intercalation and Irony in the Gospel of Mark,” in Four Gospels 1992: Festschrift Frans Neirynck, ed. Frans van Segbroeck et al., BETL 100 (Leuven: Peeters, 1992), 2:949–974; Stephanie M. Fischbach, Totenerweckungen: Zur Geschichte einer Gattung, FB 69 (Würzburg: Echter, 1992), 166–168; Dagmar Oppel, Heilsam erzählen – erzählend heilen: Die Heilung der Blutflüssigen und die Erweckung der Jairustochter in Mk 5,21–43 als Beispiel markinischer Erzählfertigkeit (BBB 102; Weinheim: Beltz Athenäum, 1995), 35–45, 176–184; Tom Shepherd, Markan Sandwich Stories: Narration, Definition, and Function, AUSDS 18 (Berrien Springs, MI: Andrews University Press, 1993); idem, “The Narrative Function of Markan Intercalation,” NTS 41 (1995): 522–540. Most scholars nowadays would interpret the intercalations in narrative-critical terms rather than in source-critical terms. However, these different perspectives need not be mutually exclusive.

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Jesus’s inquisition before the Sanhedrin, and the denial of Peter); 15:40–16:8 (women at the cross, Joseph of Arimathea requests Jesus’s body, women at the empty tomb).12 Given this large number of intercalations, there is an a priori likelihood that Mark himself has reshuffled the texts to what they are now to make his point, or at least that he is responsible for the structure as we now have it. This, of course, reopens the question of the original belonging together (or not) of the two episodes. Even if one were to take the two stories as reports of one and the same historical incident, the texts as we now have them need not necessarily stem from one and the same source. Second, the historic present is a well-known feature typical of Mark’s style,13 and it will occasion no surprise to see this stylistic feature abundantly employed in Mark 5:21–43. Alternately, in the parallel passages of Matthew and Luke the historic present is consistently replaced by other modes and tenses, with Luke 8:49 as the only exception.14 On closer inspection, however, the distribution of the historic present in the Markan episode is remarkable. The historic present is restricted to the Jairus story alone, three times in part one (vv. 22 bis, 23) and eight times in part two (vv. 35, 36, 38 bis, 39, 40 bis, 41). In the pericope of the haemorrhaging woman (ten of twenty-three verses in all) not a single instance of the historic present is found. There seems to be no explanation intrinsic to the narratives themselves to justify the different employment of the historic present. There is no convincing reason why the story of Jairus and his daughter should be told with more vividness than the story of the haemorrhaging woman. Rather, the contrary would be expected: using the normal narrative mode in the aorist tense, the incident with the woman would become more lively if it were told in the historic present. But this is evidently not the case.15 A more obvious explanation lies at hand. Since Mark’s fingerprints are less obvious in the pericope of the haemorrhaging woman than they are in the Jairus parts, the differen­ces may be due (at least in part) to the use of dif  Edwards, “Markan Sandwiches,” 193–216.   Hawkins, Horae Synopticae, 34, 143–149; Turner, Grammar, 4:20, repr. in Elliott, Language, 225. Turner notes 151 examples in Mark (and 151 in John), and observes that Matthew has changed Mark’s historic present 78 times. Matthew has the historic present 23 times when there is no parallel in Mark [Grammar, 4:35, with reference to Ed Parish Sanders, The Tendencies of the Synoptic Tradition, SNTSMS 9 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1969), 246]. See further Decker, “Markan Idiolect,” 57–58. 14   See the very instructive article by Gregor Geiger, “Syntaktische Aramaismen im Markusevangelium: Praesens historicum und καὶ εὐθύς,” SBFLA 64 (2014): 183–217. He argues that Mark’s historic presents are Aramaisms (not Hebraisms). 15   This explanation, to be sure, is only one of the possible explanations of the use of the historic present, but it is a popular one. For a fuller discussion, see Geiger, “Syntaktische Aramaismen,” 184–202. 12 13

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ferent sources. Significantly, there is a strong correspondence with another Markan intercalation in chapter 6. While the Mission of the Twelve (6:7–13) and the return of the Twelve (6:30) demonstrate a high number of Markan fingerprints, the in-between section on the death of John the Baptist has a number of non-Markan features, an observation that is usually explained in terms of the use of source material.16 Table 2: The Historic Present in Mark 5:21–43 and Parr. Mark 5:21–43

Matthew 9:18–26

Luke 8:40–56

Jairus, Part One (vv. 21–24) ἔρχεται (v. 22)

ἐλθών (v. 18)

ἦλθεν (v. 41)

πίπτει (v. 22)

(προσεκύνει, v. 18)

πεσών (v. 41)



παρεκάλε (v. 41)

παρακαλεῖ (v. 23)

The Haemorrhaging Woman (vv. 25–34) –

















Jairus, Part Two (vv. 35–43) ἔρχονται (v. 35)



ἔρχεταί (v. 49)

λέγει (v. 36)



(ἀπεκρίθη, v. 50)

ἔρχονται (v. 38)

ἐλθών (v. 23)

ἐλθών (v. 51)

θεωρεῖ (v. 38)

ἰδών (v. 23)



λέγει (v. 39)

ἔλεγεν (v. 24)

εἶπεν (v. 52)

παραλαμβάνει (v. 40)





εἰσπορεύεται (v. 40)

εἰσελθών (v. 25)



λέγει (v. 41)



ἐφώνησεν λέγων (v. 54)

Third, this tentative conclusion may be corroborated by another observation on Mark’s language and syntax. The sentence structure of the section of the haemorrhaging woman is strikingly different from the Jairus sections. While Mark employs his usual more straightforward paratactic sentence structure in the Jairus episode, in the section of the haemorrhaging woman a number of more complex subordinate clauses with multiple participle clauses are being used. As with the absence of the historic presents, this complex sentence 16  E.g., Bultmann, Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, 328–329; Rudolf Pesch, Das Markusevangelium 1. Teil: Einleitung und Kommentar zu Kap. 1,1–8,26, HThKNT 2 (Freiburg: Herder, 1976, 41984), 337–344; Joachim Gnilka, Das Evangelium nach Markus (1,1–8,26), 2 vols., EKKNT 2 (Zurich: Benziger; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1978, 62008), 1:245–246; Edwards, “Markan Sandwiches,” 205.

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structure is found only in the pericope of the haemorrhaging woman, not in the Jairus sections. Again, the most plausible explanation of this is that the wording of source material has put its imprint upon Mark’s writing. Table 3: Sentence Structure of Mark 5:25–34 (vv. 25–27)

Καὶ

γυνὴ

ἥψατο τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ – οὖσα ἐν ῥύσει αἵματος δώδεκα ἔτη καὶ – πολλὰ παθοῦσα ὑπὸ πολλῶν ἰατρῶν καὶ – δαπανήσασα τὰ παρ᾽ αὐτῆς πάντα καὶ – μηδὲν ὠφεληθεῖσα, ἀλλὰ –μ ᾶλλον εἰς τὸ χεῖρον ἐλθοῦσα, – ἀκούσασα περὶ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ, – ἐ λθοῦσα ἐν τῷ ὄχλῳ ὄπισθεν

(v. 30)

καὶ εὐθὺς

ὁ Ἰησοῦς

ἔλεγεν κτλ. – ἐπιγνοὺς ἐν ἑαυτῷ τὴν ἐξ αὐτοῦ δύναμιν ἐξελθοῦσαν – ἐ πιστραφεὶς ἐν τῷ ὄχλῳ

(v. 33)

ἡ δὲ

γυνὴ

ἦλθεν κτλ. –φ οβηθεῖσα καὶ – τρέμουσα, – εἰδυῖα ὃ γέγονεν αὐτἦ,

In sum, from these general structural and linguistic observations it may be reasonably concluded that Mark’s editorial fingerprints are more clearly visible in the Jairus story than in the pericope of the haemorrhaging woman. A possible conclusion lies readily at hand: the two pericopes do not stem from the same source and have been sandwiched by the Markan author, who has an otherwise known habit of sandwiching gospel pericopes. Although it is not possible to reconstruct with confidence the original wording of the source(s) in practice, the use of source material (be it oral or written) need not be questioned in principle. A more intricate question, however, concerns the pre-Markan context of the two stories. Did Mark find the two stories already combined or is he to be held responsible for combining the two? The answer depends to a large degree on the plausibility or not of the hypothesis of the so-called “Pre-Markan Miracle Catenae.”17 At present, however, it suffices to conclude that Mark in 17   See, e.g., Heinz-Wolfgang Kuhn, Ältere Sammlungen im Markusevangelium, SUNT 8 (Göttingen: Vanden­hoeck & Ruprecht, 1971), 191–213; Paul J. Achtemeier, “Toward the Isolation of Pre-Markan Miracle Catenae,” JBL 89 (1970): 265–291; idem, “The Origin and Function of the Pre-Markan Miracle Catenae,” JBL 91 (1972): 198–221; idem, Mark, ProcCom (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975, 21986). See above, Chapter 1: History and Research.

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all likelihood was not the first to tell the story of the haemorrhaging woman (and possibly that of Jairus). The structural observations just made need to be complemented by a detailed analysis of the individual verses, especially with regard to its vocabulary. Only then it is possible to draw more confident conclusions about the prehistory of the Markan text in its oral or perhaps written stage. 2. Tradition and Redaction in Mark 5:21–24 Building on the work of C.H. Turner and J.C. Hawkins, Edgar John Pryke in his Redactional Style in the Marcan Gospel has analysed Mark’s special vocabulary and syntax to see if they reflect the editorial hand of the author or stem from oral or written sources. Of Pryke’s list of Markan redactional vocabulary most frequently used by the author in the Gospel as a whole (140 words),18 35 (!) are found in 5:21–43. For the first section (vv. 21–24) his conclusions can be summarized as follows (the numbers after the underlined words indicate the number of redactional uses plus the total number of occurrences in Mark as a whole, e.g. 12/17 means that of 17 occurrences of the word 12 are redactional): 21 Καὶ διαπεράσαντος τοῦ Ἰησοῦ [ἐν τῷ πλοίῳ (12/17)] πάλιν (25/28) εἰς τὸ πέραν (5/5) συνήχθη (5/5) ὄχλος (27/38) πολὺς (36/57) ἐπ᾽ αὐτόν, καὶ ἦν παρὰ τὴν θάλασσαν (12/19) 22 Καὶ ἔρχεται εἷς τῶν ἀρχισυναγώγων ὀνόματι (8/14) Ἰάϊρος καὶ ἰδὼν αὐτὸν πίπτει πρὸς τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ 23 καὶ παρακαλεῖ αὐτὸν πολλὰ (36/57) λέγων ὅτι (38/41) τὸ θυγάτριόν (2/2) μου ἐσχάτως ἔχει, ἵνα ἐλθὼν ἐπιθῇς τὰς χεῖρας αὐτῇ ἵνα σωθῇ (8/14) καὶ ζήσῃ. 24 καὶ ἀπῆλθεν (11/22) μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ. καὶ ἠκολούθει (11/18) αὐτῷ ὄχλος (27/38) πολὺς (36/57) καὶ συνέθλιβον (2/2) αὐτόν.

Additionally, the use of the genitive absolute in v. 21 (διαπεράσαντος τοῦ Ἰησοῦ) is redactional.19 Pryke further observes that λέγων ὅτι (vv. 23, 28, 35) coheres with Mark’s avoidance of indirect speech.20 The use of πάλιν (v. 21) also reflects Markan style.21 The adverbial use of πολλά (v. 23) is characteristic of Mark, 22 as is his fondness for diminutives (θυγάτριον, v. 23;

  For what follows, see Pryke, Redactional Style, 136–138 (and 141–142).   Pryke, Redactional Style, 62, claims that 24 of the 29 Markan examples are redactional. He explains: “The fact that most of these genitive absolutes are to be found opening the pericope, and that their subject matter is chronological or topographical or comments on the ‘progress of the gospel’, as well as the literary nature of the genitive absolute, suggest that the editor is opening his pericope with a linking phrase, and thus developing material which was originally without time or place references, so as to make of it a continuous narrative.” 20   Pryke, Redactional Style, 75–76; C.H. Turner in Elliott, ed., Language and Style of Mark, 68–74. 21   Pryke, Redactional Style, 96–99; C.H. Turner in Elliott, ed., Language and Style of Mark, 111–115. 22   Hawkins, Horae Synopticae, 35. 18

19

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παιδίον, v. 40; κοράσιον, vv. 41, 42).23 In her commentary on Mark, Collins observes that the statement that “Jesus was beside the sea” in v. 21 creates a typical Markan scene.24 She refers to 1:16; 2:13; 3:7 and 4:1. This, of course, strongly suggests Markan redaction if not composition, perfectly in line with the intuitions of form-critics of the first hour.25 Further, the expression διαπεράσαντος … εἰς τὸ πέραν (assuming that εἰς τὸ πέραν modifies διαπεράσαντος)26 is slightly different from the idiom used in 6:53, where the destination is indicated by ἐπί: διαπεράσαντες ἐπὶ τὴν γῆν ἦλθον εἰς Γεννησαρέτ. Gérard Rochais suggests that in classical Greek διαπεράω εἰς τὸ πέραν is pleonastic, since διαπεράω is most often used for travel over water and εἰς τὸ πέραν is almost always used to denote the other side of a river, a lake or a sea.27 In Hebrew and Aramaic, however, the root ‫ עבר‬should simply mean “to travel,” regardless whether it is over sea or over land, and the substantive ‫“ עיברא‬the other side; coast, shore” (rivage). He refers to the translation of Deut 30:13 in Targum Pseudo-Jonathan: ‫מאן יעיבר בדילנא לעיבר ימא רבא‬ “Who will cross over, for us, to the other side of the Great Sea?” 28 He then suggests that the Greek διαπεράω εἰς τὸ πέραν is best explained as a literal translation of the Aramaic ‫עבר לעיברא‬.29 He further argues that in Mark εἰς τὸ πέραν is always used to refer to the eastern side of the lake (4:35; 5:1; 6:45; 8:13), which does not fit the present context, where Jesus clearly arrives at the western side of the lake. This discrepancy can be resolved, he argues, if v. 21 is taken as the conclusion of the pericope of the Gerasene demoniac rather than as the introduction to the Jairus pericope.30 This would explain the curious use of the singular διαπεράσαντος τοῦ Ἰησοῦ, which is conform the use in the pericope of the Gerasene demoniac, in which   C.H. Turner in Elliott, ed., Language and Style of Mark, 123–126.   Adela Yarbro Collins, Mark: A Commentary, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), 276. 25  Gerd Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, SNT 8 (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1974, 71998), 199, observes that “Ortsanschluß” is typical of Markan composition in the first half of the gospel. So also Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 39–48, contra Schmidt, Rahmen, 146. 26   In the Matthaean parallel διαπεράω is used absolutely: διαπεράσαντες ἦλθον ἐπὶ τὴν γῆν εἰς Γεννησαρέτ (Matt 14:34). 27   Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 43: “En grec classique l’expression διαπερᾶν εἰς τὸ πέραν paraît inusitée, par souci sans doute d’éviter une malencontreuse assonance et un pléonasme: διαπερᾶν signifie en effet le plus souvent traverser par voie d’eau, et πέραν signifie presque toujours l’autre coté d’un fleuve, d’une rivière ou de la mer.” 28   Tg. Ps-J. Deut 30:13; trans. Ernest George Clarke, with the collaboration of Sue Magder, Targum Pseudo-Jonathan: Deuteronomy, ArBib 5B (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998), 84. 29   Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 43. 30   This was, in fact, the case in the first edition of Nestle, which took v. 22 as the beginning of a new pericope, see [Eberhard Nestle], Novum Testamentum graece cum apparatu critico ex editionibus et libris manu scriptis collecto (Stuttgart: Privilegierte Württem­bergische Bibelanstalt, 1898), 97. Later editions start the pericope at v. 21. See also Appendix 2: Text and Intertext. 23 24

B. Tradition and Redaction in Mark 5:21–43

151

the disciples play no role.31 Reading the singular ἦλθεν in 5:1 (NA 28 reads ἦλθον), Rochais observes that the verses that ramify the episode are all in the singular (as in 8:10–13): Καὶ ἦλθεν εἰς τὸ πέραν τῆς θαλάσσης (5:1), καὶ ἐξελθόντος αὐτοῦ ἐκ το πλοίου (5:2), καὶ ἐμβαίνοντος αὐτοῦ εἰς τὸ πλοῖον (5:18), καὶ διαπεράσαντος τοῦ Ἰησοῦ εἰς τὸ πέραν (5:21a). He surmises that the original pericope closed with the phrase καὶ διαπέρασεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἰς τὸ πέραν, which was subsequently reverted into a genitive absolute construct when it was linked to the Jairus pericope.32 Consequently, it was Mark himself who reworked the concluding words of the pericope of the Gerasene demoniac into a transition and introductory verse to the Jairus pericope. However, it must not go unnoticed that the detour from Aramaic is unnecessary if the present verse is influenced by the LXX of Deut 30:13: “Who will cross to the other side of the sea for us?” (Τίς διαπεράσει ἡμῖν εἰς τὸ πέραν τῆς θαλάσσης;). If so, this introductory verse shows no signs of pre-Markan material except the Greek Bible. Finally, Robert H. Gundry and others think that the mention of “one of the synagogue leaders, by name Jairus” may derive from historical memory.33 We will give this point a more elaborate treatment in the next chapter. 3. Tradition and Redaction in Mark 5:25–34 The intercalated pericope of the haemorrhaging woman not only shows evidence of non-Markan syntax, as we observed earlier, but it also has some characteristic Markan vocabulary. Following Pryke’s observations, the underlined words are typical of Markan usage: 25 Καὶ γυνὴ οὖσα ἐν ῥύσει αἵματος δώδεκα (13/15) ἔτη 26 καὶ πολλὰ (36/57) παθοῦσα ὑπὸ πολλῶν (36/57) ἰατρῶν καὶ δαπανήσασα τὰ παρ᾽ αὐτῆς πάντα καὶ μηδὲν (8/9) ὠφεληθεῖσα ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον εἰς τὸ χεῖρον ἐλθοῦσα, 27 ἀκούσασα (30/43) περὶ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ, ἐλθοῦσα ἐν τῷ ὄχλῳ ὄπισθεν ἥψατο (7/11) τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ· 28 ἔλεγεν γὰρ (57/63) ὅτι (λέγειν ὅτι 38/41) ἐὰν ἅψωμαι (7/11, of which 4 in these verses) κἂν τῶν ἱματίων αὐτοῦ σωθήσομαι (8/14). 29 καὶ εὐθὺς (33/43) ἐξηράνθη ἡ πηγὴ τοῦ αἵματος αὐτῆς καὶ ἔγνω (7/12) τῷ σώματι ὅτι ἴαται ἀπὸ τῆς μάστιγος. 30 καὶ εὐθὺς (33/43) ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἐπιγνοὺς ἐν ἑαυτῷ τὴν ἐξ αὐτοῦ δύναμιν ἐξελθοῦσαν (25/38) ἐπιστραφεὶς ἐν τῷ ὄχλῳ (27/38) ἔλεγεν· τίς μου ἥψατο (7/11) τῶν ἱματίων; 31 καὶ ἔλεγον αὐτῷ οἱ μαθηταὶ (35/46) αὐτοῦ· βλέπεις (10/15) τὸν ὄχλον (27/38) συνθλίβοντά (2/2) σε καὶ λέγεις· τίς μου ἥψατο (7/11); 32 καὶ περιεβλέπετο (4/6) ἰδεῖν τὴν τοῦτο ποιήσασαν. 33 ἡ δὲ γυνὴ φοβηθεῖσα (8/12) καὶ τρέμουσα, εἰδυῖα ὃ γέγονεν αὐτῇ, ἦλθεν καὶ προσέπεσεν αὐτῷ καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ πᾶσαν τὴν ἀλήθειαν. 34 ὁ δὲ εἶπεν αὐτῇ· θυγάτηρ, ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν (8/14) σε· ὕπαγε (8/15) εἰς εἰρήνην καὶ ἴσθι ὑγιὴς ἀπὸ τῆς μάστιγός σου. 31  Cf. Bultmann, Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, 369. According to Bultmann, the genitive absolute in 5:21 is a sign of Markan redaction (364). 32   Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 44–45. 33   Robert H. Gundry, Mark: A Commentary on His Apology for the Cross (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 1:267; James D.G. Dunn, Jesus Remembered, vol. 1 of Christianity in the Making (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 682–683.

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The use of εὐθύς (vv. 29, 30) is so typical of Mark that it is almost unnecessary to make mention of it.34 However, despite the clearly Markan wording of the episode, there is some evidence of Aramaic interference, if not evidence of an Aramaic substratum. Among the various possibilities to translate ἱμάτιον “garment” back to Hebrew or Aramaic (cf. HRCS 685–686; LEH 288), the Aramaic ‫( טלית‬ṭalliyt) is a particularly interesting option, given the explicit use of ‫( טליתא‬ṭalěyětā) in the immediate context. Would it be possible that we have an Aramaic wordplay behind the Greek text? Is it too far-fetched to see a pun with ‫ טליתא‬and ‫טלית‬, “Thallith, the cloak of honor, the scholar’s or officer’s distinction … the cloak of the leader in prayer”?35 If so, we could posit a connection between the Jairus pericope and the pericope of the haemorrhaging woman before Greek Mark. The possibility, at any rate, is too intriguing to be left unsaid.36 According to the Comprehensive Aramaic Lexicon (http://www.cal.huc.edu) the word ‫טלית‬ “garment” occurs in Galilean Aramaic, Palestinan Targumic Aramaic and Late Jewish literary Aramaic. See, e.g. Qoh. Rab. (1) 23:2 (21): ‫הוה טליתה דר׳ יונתן מהלכא על ארונא‬, and Tg. Neof. M (mg) Deut 22:12: ‫[ ארבע גדפי טליתא ד}ט{ת תעטף בה | מהלכא על ארונא‬Martin McNamara, Targum Neofiti 1: Deuteronomy, Translated, with Apparatus and Notes, ArBib 5A (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical, Michael Glazier, 1997), 107, n. ii: “You shall make borders for yourselves on the four fringes of your mantle [‫ ]טליתא‬with which you wrap yourselves.”]. Further b. Šabb. 58a ‫“ טלית מקופלת‬ein weit umgeschlagener Mantel” (Levy 1:304); cf. Šabb. 138a ‫“ טלית כפולה‬eine Art Baldachin.” See further Jacob Levy, Chaldäisches Wörterbuch über die Targumim und einen grossen Theil des rabbinischen Schriftthums, 2 vols. (Leipzig: Baumgärtner, [1867–1868] 31881), 1:304; Jastrow, Dictionary, 537; Michael Sokoloff, A Dictionary of Jewish Palestinian Aramaic of the Byzantine Period, DTMT 2 (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press; Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1990, 22002), 225b. See also Avigail Sheffer, “Textiles,” EDSS 2 (2000): 940–941, on the ṭalit worn by members of the Qumran sect.

4. Tradition and Redaction in Mark 5:35–43 The closing section of the Jairus pericope has the following features of Markan style and vocabulary:   Hawkins, Horae Synopticae, 12; Johannes Weiss, “Εὐθύς bei Markus,” ZNW 11 (1910): 124–133; Pryke, Redactional Style, 87–96; Decker, “Markan Idiolect,” 56, with references to his fuller discussions elsewhere; Geiger, “Syntaktische Aramaismen,” 203–212. Geiger suggests the influence of Aramaic ‫( )ב(אדיו‬212). 35   See Marcus Jastrow, Dictionary of the Targumim, the Talmud Babli and Yerushalmi, and the Midrashic Literature, repr. 2 vols. in one (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, [1903/1943] 2005), 537. 36  Other retroversions can be found in Robert Lisle Lindsey, A Hebrew Translation of the Gospel of Mark: Greek-Hebrew Diglot with English Introduction (Jerusalem: Dugith Publishers Baptist House, n.d.), 102–105 (Hebrew), and Bruce D. Chilton and Darrell L. Bock, eds., A Comparative Handbook to the Gospel of Mark: Comparisons with Pseudepigrapha, the Qumran Scrolls, and Rabbinic Literature, NTGJC 1 (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 201 (“Man ’achad/ yat lebush/iy”) (Aramaic). 34

B. Tradition and Redaction in Mark 5:21–43

153

35 Ἔτι αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος (12/19) ἔρχονται ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀρχισυναγώγου λέγοντες ὅτι (38/41) ἡ θυγάθηρ σου ἀπέθανεν· τί ἔτι σκύλλεις τὸν διδάσκαλον; 36 ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς παρακούσας τὸν λόγον λαλούμενον (12/19) λέγει τῷ ἀρχισυναγώγῳ· μὴ φοβοῦ (8/12), μόνόν πίστευε. 37 καὶ οὐκ ἀφῆκεν οὐδένα μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ συνακολουθῆσαι εἰ μὴ τὸν Πέτρον καὶ Ἰάκωβον καὶ Ἰωάννην τὸν ἀδελφὸν Ἰακώβου. 38 καὶ ἔρχονται εἰς τὸν οἶκον (6/12) τοῦ ἀρχισυναγώγου καὶ θεωρεῖ θόρυβον καὶ κλαίοντας καὶ ἀλαλάζοντας πολλά, 39 καὶ εἰσελθὼν λέγει αὐτοῖς· τί θορυβεῖσθε καὶ κλαίετε; τὸ παιδίον οὐκ ἀπέθανεν ἀλλὰ καθεύδει. 40 καὶ κατεγέλων αὐτοῦ. αὐτὸς δὲ ἐκβαλὼν πάντας παραλαμβάνει (5/6) τὸν πατέρα τοῦ παιδίου καὶ τὴν μητέρα καὶ τοὺς μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ καὶ εἰσπορεύεται (4/8) ὅπου ἦν τὸ παιδίον. 41 καὶ κρατήσας (9/15) τῆς χειρὸς τοῦ παιδίου λέγει αὐτῇ· ταλιθα κουμ, ὅ ἐστιν μεθερμηνευόμενον· τὸ κοράσιον (3/5), σοὶ λέγω, ἔγειρε (9/18). 42 καὶ εὐθὺς (33/43) ἀνέστη (11/16) τὸ κοράσιον (3/5) καὶ περιεπάτει· ἦν γὰρ (57/63) ἐτῶν δώδεκα (13/15). καὶ ἐξέστησαν [εὐθὺς (33/43)] ἐκστάσει μεγάλῃ (unspecified/14). 43 καὶ διεστείλατο (5/5) αὐτοῖς πολλὰ (36/57) ἵνα μηδεὶς (8/9) γνοῖ τοῦτο καὶ εἶπεν δοθῆναι αὐτῇ φαγε

As in v. 21, the genitive absolute αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος is redactional.37 A separation from the crowd (v. 40) is also found in 7:33 (ἀπολαβόμενος αὐτὸν ἀπὸ τοῦ ὄχλου κατ’ ἰδίαν) and 8:23 (ἐξήνεγκεν αὐτὸν ἔξω τῆς κώμης). Translation of foreign (mostly Aramaic) words is a typical feature of Markan style.38 Friedrich Blass took ταλιθα κουμ(ι) and εφφαθα in 7:34 as supporting evidence of the existence of an original Aramaic Mark,39 but few scholars have followed him in this.40 After all, the presence of one or two words from Aramaic is not enough to posit the existence of a source. This, however, may not be all there is to say. Pryke further refers to Mark’s treatment of impersonal (or indefinite) verbs in v. 35 (ἔρχονται) and 38 (ἔρχονται),41 and to the use of explanatory γάρ in vv. 28 and 42 as typical of his style.42 He cautiously categorises the periphrastic tense in v. 41 (ἐστιν μεθερμηνευόμενον) as “a sign of non-literary Greek in a writer who is very much influenced by the LXX,” and as redactional.43 The verbs ἐγείρω and ἀνίστμι (vv. 41–42) reflect the traditional Christian language for the resurrection of Jesus and for the general resurrection at the end of time. First-century readers will most likely have made the connection.44 According to most scholars to date, the command to silence in v. 43 is a literary device construed by Mark for theological or apologetic reasons.   Pryke, Redactional Style, 62.   Pryke, Redactional Style, 59–60. 39  Friedrich Blass, Philology of the Gospels (London: Macmillan, 1898), 213. 40   A notable exception is P. Maurice Casey, Aramaic Sources of Mark’s Gospel, SNTSMS 102 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998). See also Nigel Turner, “Style.” 41   Pryke, Redactional Style, 107–115; C.H. Turner in Elliott, ed., Language and Style of Mark, 4–12, 39. 42   Pryke, Redactional Style, 126–135. On p. 123 he points to Markan features in vv. 25–26. Also Decker, “Markan Idiolect,” 53–54. 43   Pryke, Redactional Style, 103. 44   Cf. Douglas S. McComiskey, Lukan Theology in the Light of the Gospel’s Literary Structure, PBM (Bletchley: Paternoster, 2004), 223. 37

38

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In the present verse it is not intended to hide the identity of Jesus but it is still part of a typically Markan (literary) pattern (cf. Chapter 5: Orality and Performance).45 5. Preliminary Conclusions In sum, although it is impossible to reconstruct a pre-Markan Vorlage of the story of Jairus and the haemorrhaging woman with any degree of certainty,46 the evidence thus far strongly suggests that Mark was not the first to tell the story, esp. so in the case of the story of the haemorrhaging woman, given the high rate of un-Markan vocabulary and the possible Aramaic background of the story. It seems highly unlikely that it is a pure composition of the Markan author, although the wording also gives clear evidence of the hand of the writer. In the absence of firm evidence, the question whether the two stories were combined before Mark took them up in his gospel seems difficult if not impossible to answer on the basis of redaction criticism alone.47

  On the so-called “Messianic Secret” in Mark see William Wrede, Das Messiasgeheimnis in den Evangelien: Zugleich ein Beitrag zum Verständnis des Markusevangeliums (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1901, 41969). See Albert Schweitzer, Geschichte der Leben-JesuForschung, with an Introduction and Preface by James M. Robinson, UTB 1302 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1906, 91984), 389–401; Hans Jürgen Ebeling, Das Messiasgeheimnis und die Botschaft des Marcus-Evangelisten, BZNW 19 (Berlin: Töpelmann, 1939); Georges Minette de Tillesse, Le secret messianique dans l’Évangile de Marc, LD 47 (Paris: Cerf, 1968); David E. Aune, “The Problem of the Messianic Secret,” NovT 11 (1969): 1–31; Charles F.D. Moule, “On Defining the Messianic Secret in Mark,” in Jesus und Paulus. Festschrift für Werner Georg Kümmel zum 70. Geburtstag, ed. E. Earle Ellis and Erich Grässer (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1975), 239–252; Heikki Räisänen, Das ‘Messiasgeheimnis’ im Markusevangelium: Ein redaktionskritischer Versuch, SESJ 28 (Helsinki: Finnische Exegetische Gesellschaft, 1976; rev. and trans. The Messianic Secret in Mark, trans. Christopher M. Tuckett; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1990); James L. Blevins, The Messianic Secret in Markan Research 1901–1976 (Washington, DC: University Press of America, 1981); Christopher M. Tuckett, ed., The Messianic Secret, IRT 1 (Philadelphia: Fortress; London: SPCK, 1983); idem, “Messianic Secret,” ABD 4 (1992): 797–800; Geert van Oyen, De studie van de Marcusredactie in de twintigste eeuw, SNTA 18 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, Peeters, 1993); Gerd Theissen, “Die pragmatische Bedeutung der Geheimnismotive im Markusevangelium: Ein wissensoziologischer Versuch,” in Secrecy and Concealment: Studies in het History of Mediterranean and Near Eastern Religions, ed. Hans G. Kippenberg and Guy G. Stroumsa, SHR 65 (Leiden: Brill, 1995), 225–245; Collins, Mark, 170–172. 46   Pace Fischbach, Totenerweckungen, 173. 47   In addition to the work of Pesch, more (traditional) indicators of tradition and redaction in this pericope can be found in Josef Ernst, Das Evangelium nach Markus übersetzt und erklärt, RNT (Regensburg: Pustet, 1981), 159–167; Étienne Trocmé, L’Évangile selon Saint Marc, CNT 2 (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 2000), 148–155 (the unexpected presence of the crowd, Jesus as “porteur d’un mana,” the mockery of the disciples, etc.). 45

C. Tradition and Redaction in Matt 9:18–26

155

6. A Note on the Proto-Mark Hypothesis Before we proceed to a study of Matthew, we must tackle a potential difficulty to the traditional Markan priority hypothesis. Building on earlier scholarship, Delbert Burkett has made a strong case for the existence of an earlier version of canonical Mark on which both Matthew and Luke were dependent.48 This Proto-Mark hypothesis, he argues, offers a far more plausible explanation for the minor agreements than Streeter and his followers ever did: most of minor agreements can be explained as stemming from this ProtoMark known to and used by both Matthew and Luke, and subsequently omitted by canonical Mark. In our pericope, Burkett instances the distinctive use of πολύς (Mark 5:21, 23, 24, 26 bis, 38, 43) as evidence against Markan priority (i.e. priority of Mark in its present constitution).49 For proponents of Markan priority, he argues, “it is difficult to explain how πολύς would disappear from the story a total of fourteen times, seven in Matthew and seven in Luke.”50 He thinks it is far more likely that Matthew and Luke were dependent on an earlier edition (or editions) of the text, so-called Proto-Mark, which Mark subsequently redacted in his own style, while Matthew and Luke took it over without significant modifications. This is part of a larger theory on the composition of the gospels, defending the independence of the gospels as we have them now and the existence of Proto-Mark A and Proto-Mark B. The agreements and differences between Proto-Mark and (canonical) Mark clearly go beyond differences caused by different manuscripts. Rather, they seem to be different recensions or editions. Burkett, to be sure, has made a convincing case. The question to be answered in Chapter 5, in which we will attempt to explain some of the minor agreements in terms of an oral transmission theory, is whether these two competing explanations are mutually exclusive and, if so, how to come to a responsible judgement.51

C. Tradition and Redaction in Matt 9:18–26 In what follows, a tradition- and redaction-critical analysis will be undertaken to find out how Matthew has edited his material and whether material can be detected which goes beyond the use of Mark as a source.52 Working 48   Delbert Royce Burkett, Rethinking Gospel Sources: From Proto-Mark to Mark (New York: T&T Clark International, 2004); idem, The Case for Proto-Mark: A Study in the Synoptic Problem, WUNT 399 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2018). 49   Burkett, Rethinking Gospel Sources, 14–17. 50   Burkett, Rethinking Gospel Sources, 16. 51   So Henk Jan de Jonge in an oral communication d.d. 12 June, 2017. 52  Literature: Hawkins, Horae Synopticae; Willoughby C. Allen, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to S. Matthew, ICC (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1907,

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from Markan priority, special attention must be paid to the “minor agreements,” and to the theory of a deutero-Markan recension. 1. Matthaean Fingerprints: General Observations The Gospel of Matthew has 102 New Testament hapax legomena, only one of which occurs in the current pericope (αἱμορροεω).53 Although Matthew has many Semitisms independently from Mark,54 in general his work is less Semitic than Mark.55 Matthew has “a smoother style than Mark.”56 According to Luz, Matthew writes “Synagogengriechisch”57 and has been influenced by the Septuagint: his language is “durchwegs bibel­g riechisch geprägt.”58 Hence interpreters should constantly be alert on allusions to and echoes from the Greek Bible. Matthew frequently (but not always!) abbreviates Mark’s text, especially in narrative material,59 not so much as to save space or out of editorial carelessness, but as an intentional interpretive strategy. In his classic and influential article on Matthew’s treatment of the miracle stories, Heinz Joachim Held has argued that, while Matthew shows much respect for what he found in his sources, he nevertheless gave it his own imprint.60 In Held’s own words, Matthew was not only a transmitter of what he received from 1912), xiii–lxii; Sanders, Tendencies; Nigel Turner, “The Style of Matthew,” in Grammar, 4:31–44; Wolfgang Schenk, Die Sprache des Matthäus: Die Text-Konstituenten in ihren makro- und mikrostrukturellen Relationen (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1987). Further: Alfred Suhl, “Die Wunder Jesu,” in Der Wunderbegriff im Neuen Testament, ed. Alfred Suhl, WdF 295 (Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1980), 475–477; Everett R. Kalin, “Matthew 9:18–26: An Exercise in Redaction Criticism,” CurTM 15 (1988): 39–47; Fischbach, Totenerweckungen, 198–211; Ulrich Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus (Mt 1–7), 4 vols., EKKNT 1 (Zurich: Benziger; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1985, 41997), 1:31–56; W.D. Davies and Dale C. Allison, The Gospel according to Saint Matthew: Commentary on Matthew 1–7, 3 vols., ICC (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1988), 72–96, and other commentaries ad loc. 53   VKGNT 2:449. 54    Turner, “Style,” 31–37; repr. in Elliott, ed., Language and Style of Mark, 215–237. 55    Turner, “Style,” 37–38. 56    Turner, “Style,” 38–41. Cf. Luz, Matthäus, 1:31: Matthew’s style is “differenzierter, geschliffener, und ‘gehobener’ als das volkstümlich-semitisierende Griechisch von Markus und Q” (italics original). 57   Luz, Matthäus, 1:31,  building on Benjamin W. Bacon, Studies in Matthew (New York: Holt, 1930), 497–499. Luz, Matthäus, 1:32: “Matthäus schreibt jüdisch, gelegentlich rabbinisch bestimmtes Griechisch” (italics original). 58    Luz, Matthäus, 1:32. 59   See the reservations of Sanders, Tendencies, 82–87. 60  Heinz Joachim Held, “Matthäus als Interpret der Wundergeschichten,” in Günther Bornkamm, Gerhard Barth, and Heinz Joachim Held, Überlieferung und Auslegung im Matthäusevangelium, WMANT 1 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1960, 71975), 115–287. 3

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tradition but also an interpreter who actualized the material by abbreviation, expansion, relocation and elimination of distracting details and digressions, so as to concentrate on Christology, faith and discipleship. Of particular interest for our pericopae are his observations on the typically Matthaean editorial operations on the (Markan) miracle stories.61 Held has shown how in the miracle stories Matthew’s hand becomes visible in five characteristics that mark him off from the other evangelists: First, Matthew shows evidence of an increased formality in the way of telling his story, often with a more formal introduction than, for example, Mark’s uncomplicated use of parataxis.62 Second, following an observation already made by Bultmann,63 Held observes that Matthew has a tendency to eliminate all redundant persons and actions in the story to get straight to the point. According to the “law of scenic duality” (“Gesetz der szenischen Zweiheit,” Bultmann), the stories are often reduced to a confrontation between two persons, Jesus and the person to be healed or helped.64 Third, dialogue takes on a central place in the miracle stories at the expense of the miracle itself.65 Fourth, keyword connections not only connect isolated pericopes, but they also serve as a linkage device within individual miracle stories.66 Fifth, the role of faith in the miracle stories, already well-established in the tradition, takes on the character of praying faith (“Gebetsglaube”) on the part of the (post-Easter) church, directed to the Risen Lord.67 2. Tradition and Redaction in Matt 9:18–19 Matt 9:18; Mark 5:21–23 The Matthaean parallel closest to Mark 5:21a is found in 9:1 (καὶ ἐμβὰς εἰς πλοῖον διεπέρασεν καὶ ἦλθεν εἰς τὴν ἰδίαν πόλιν), where the report of Jesus’s return from the country of the Gadarenes rounds off the story of the healing of the Gadarene demoniacs (8:28–9:1). Different from Mark, Matthew subsequently reports the healing of a paralytic in Capernaum (“his own town”) (9:2–8), the calling of Matthew and the subsequent dinner in a house (in Capernaum) (9:9–13), and the question about fasting (9:14–17), pericopes which are located elsewhere in Mark (the healing of a paralytic in Mark 2:1–12; the calling of Levi and the subsequent banquet in Mark 2:13–17; the 61   Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 214–228, inter alios followed by K. Gatzweiler, “Les récits de miracles dans l’Évangile selon saint Matthieu,” in L’Évangile selon saint Matthieu: rédaction et théologie, ed. M. Didier, BETL 29 (Gembloux: Duculot, 1972), 209–220. 62   Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 214–220. 63   Bultmann, Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, 335–337. 64   Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 220–221. 65   Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 221–224. 66   Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 224–227. 67   Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 227–228. On Matthew’s particular understanding and development of the notion of faith, see further Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 263–284.

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question about fasting in Mark 2:18–22). Matthew, then, has transferred Mark 2:1–22 in toto to the current location. Consequently, the Markan geographical note καὶ ἦν παρὰ τὴν θάλασσαν “and he was by the sea” is ill-fitting in Matthew – the company of Jesus and his disciples are presumably still in the tax collector’s house (9:10) or, if the question about fasting is only loosely connected to its context (depending on the force given to τότε in Matt 9:14), in some undefined place – and therefore has been crossed out. Different from Mark, Matthew links the present pericope immediately to the previous debate about fasting with some unnamed bystanders, possibly disciples of John the Baptist and Jesus’s own disciples.68 Matthew may have taken the words ταῦτα αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος αὐτοῖς from Mark 5:35 and have relocated them to the beginning of the narrative (cf. also 12:46; 17:5; 26:47).69 At any rate, the words are redactional,70 and mark a transition.71 Different from Mark, Matthew makes no mention of the ὄχλος πολύς gathered around Jesus at the beginning of the scene. The presence of the disciples is implied at most (v. 19). The interjection ἰδού reflects a common idiom used frequently by both Matthew and Luke72 and hardly proves a connection between the two versions (although strictly speaking it is a minor agreement, Luke 8:41, albeit a minor one!).73 It is regularly introduced by Matthew to enliven a scene, 68   Cf. Walter Grundmann, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, THKNT 1 (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1968, 21971), 274: “[w]ährend der Tischgespräche beim Mahle.” 69   So Robert H. Gundry, Matthew: A Commentary on His Handbook for a Mixed Church under Persecution (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982, 21994), 171. Cf. 1 Sam 17:23 v.l. (A): αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος μετ᾽ αὐτῶν καὶ ἰδοῦ; Job 1:16–18 (Ἔτι τούτου λαλοῦντος, 3x); Jos. Asen. 19:1 (“And while they were still speaking this (way),” trans. OTP 2:233 n.a., “a traditional formula of transition”). 70   Bultmann, Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, 376; Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:125. 71   Both Frederik W. Grosheide and Donald A. Hagner try to disconnect the present verse somewhat from its immediate context (for apologetic reasons?). According to Frederik Willem Grosheide, Het heilig Evangelie volgens Mattheüs, CNT (Kampen: Kok, [1922] 21954), 150, the words ταῦτα αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος αὐτοῖς should not be taken to mean “dat Jaïrus kwam, terwijl Jezus het onmiddellijk voorafgaande predikte, doch: terwijl Hij dergelijke woorden eens sprak, in deze periode van prediking” (his italics). In similar vein, Donald A. Hagner, Matthew 1–13, WBC 33A (Dallas: Word, 1993), 248: “The genitive absolute ταῦτα αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος αὐτοῖς … is Matthew’s transition to the new story and is not to be understood as a particular time indicator (the order in Mark and Luke is very different).” Cf. also Darrell L. Bock, Luke 1:1–9:50, 2 vols., BECNT 3A (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 1994), 1:788: “Luke and Mark probably moved up this discussion for topical reasons: so they could present in one place Jewish official reaction to Jesus’ ‘unorthodox’ associations and practices…. Thus, Matthew’s association of these twin healings with this fasting debate is precise…” 72   Cf. Ian Howard Marshall, ed., Moulton and Geden Concordance to the Greek Testament. Sixth Edition (Continuum International Publishing Group; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2002), 503– 505. 73   Pace Fuchs, “Schrittweises Wachstum,” 15–16, who argues that this minor agreement can be explained with equal plausibility with reference to a deutero-Markan revision that serves as a basis for both Matthew and Luke.

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although its frequency suggests caution to press the argument. “Matthew highlights the parallel significance of the two narratives (one embedded in the other) with the use of ἰδού (lit. “behold”) at the point where the key actor for each first comes on stage.” 74 Perhaps it is a replacement for Mark’s ἰδὼν αὐτόν (cf. vv. 22, 23). It has the effect of changing the focus from the seeing of the desperate father to that of the reader.75 A formal introduction is otherwise typical for the Matthaean miracle stories and to be attributed to Matthaean redaction.76 Whereas Mark introduces the petitioner as “one of the synagogue leaders by the name of Jairus,” in Matthew he is nameless and vaguely circumscribed as “a ruler” (ἄρχων εἷς). “Without a knowledge of Mark or Luke, one would not know whether Matthew’s ἄρχων should be identified with a civil or religious official.” 77 Rochais thinks that Matthew was simply not interested in personal details and points to the suppression of the name of Bartimaeus in 20:29 (Mark 10:46).78 Richard Bauckham thinks that the name Jairus was dropped because by the time of the composition of Matthew’s Gospel or in the community to which the gospel was addressed, Jairus – who could very well be the eyewitness through whose testimony the story became known to the world – was not so well-known.79 To this hypothesis we will have to return in Chapter 5 (Orality and Performance). Suffice it for now to observe that Bauckham does give an explanation for the absence of the name Jairus, but fails to explain why Jairus has turned from a synagogue ruler into a ruler tout court. Robert Gundry argues that “Matthew can hardly relate this worshipper of Jesus to the synagogue, which in his gospel has 74  John Nolland, The Gospel of Matthew: A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; Bletchley: Paternoster, 2005), 394. 75  Contra Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, 202–203, who seems to think that the construction of ἰδού with a participle clause is no more than a formal closure of a miracle story. 76   Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 214–220. 77   Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:125 n.9. So already Adolf Schlatter, Der Evangelist Matthäus: Seine Sprache, sein Ziel, seine Selbständigkeit. Ein Kommentar zum ersten Evangelium (Stuttgart: Calwer, 1948, 61963), 316: “Neben εἷς τῶν ἀρχισυναγώγων Mark 5,22 ist die Formel ἄρχων unbestimmter. Sie gibt nicht an, welche amtliche Befugnis der Bittende hat” (but note that Schlatter works from Matthaean priority). 78   Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 90: “Matthieu ne s’intéresse pas aux personnes en tant que telles, mais à leurs attitudes qui peuvent servir d’exemples à la communauté croyante.” 79   Richard J. Bauckham, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses: The Gospels as Eyewitness Testimony (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006, 22017), 53: “With Jairus and Bartimaeus we encounter … the phenomenon of a character named by Mark, presumably because he was well known in the early Christian movement, but whose name was dropped by one or both of the later Synoptic Evangelists (Jairus is named in Luke), presumably because they were not well known when or where the Evangelists wrote” (see Table 1–5 in Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, 56–66, for an overview of the data). Hence he concludes: “The recollection of the raising of Jairus’s daughter, if that is indeed the basis of the story, could be that of Peter, James, John, or the girl’s mother, but could at any rate plausibly be that of Jairus” (55).

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become ‘theirs,’ that of the Jews who opposed Jesus and now oppose those who worship him.” 80 This is disputed by Davies and Allison: “Abbreviation probably explains Matthew’s substitution, not a desire to disconnect faith from the synagogue.” 81 Nolland thinks that Matthew probably identifies him as a leader “in the interest of the comparison with the centurion [in 8:5]: both men had authority and recognise that of Jesus” (but note that Matthew does not explicitly identify the centurion as an ἄρχων).82 Stephanie Fischbach notes that Matthew’s abbreviation has a christological focus and results in “eine breitere Basis der Identifizierung mit den einzelnen Figuren der Erzählung.” 83 Hagner thinks the ruler is still to be understood as a synagogue official.84 An option not very often considered to explain Matthew’s different introduction of the petitioner is that he wishes to allude to Isa 49:7–8 LXX, the prophetic words on the Servant of the LORD’s mission to the nations85: Thus says the LORD, your Redeemer (ὁ ρυσάμενός σε), the God of Israel: … “Kings shall see him (ὄψονται αὐτόν) and stand up (ἀναστήσονται), princes (ἄρχοντες), and they shall prostrate themselves (καὶ προσκυνήσουσιν αὐτῷ), because of the LORD, for the Holy One of Israel, who has chosen you, is faithful (πιστός) … on a day of salvation (ἐν ἡμέρᾳ σωτηρίας) I have helped you (ἐβοήθησά σοι)” (nrsv, adapted).

Here we find exactly the two elements combined that distinguish Matthew’s version from Mark’s: the noun ἄρχων and the verb προσκυνέω (+ dative of recipient), notably in a biblical book (even a biblical translation) that is otherwise important to the First Evangelist.86 On closer inspection, the Isaianic passage contains a number of other keywords that are significant to Matthew, even if only for their associative force: the notion of seeing (ὄψονται αὐτόν), the uprising (ἀναστήσονται, though with a different meaning), the role of faith (πιστός “faithful”), and the overall context of salvation (ὁ ρυσάμενός σε, σωτηρία), and the divinely-ordained universal mission of the Servant. If the Isaianic text lies in the background of Matthew’s portrayal of the ruler   Gundry, Matthew, 172.   Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:125–126. 82   Nolland, Matthew, 394. 83   Fischbach, Totenerweckungen, 205. 84   Hagner, Matthew, 1:248. 85   I was alerted to this text by my former MA-student Flora Visser-van Enkhuizen (Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam). For a christological exegesis of this verse, see J.L. Koole, Jesaja II/2: Jesaja 49 tot en met 55, COT (Kampen: Kok, 1990), 37–41. 86   See the index of New Testament passages containing Old Testament quotations in New Testament Writers and the Old Testament, ed. John M. Court (London: SPCK, 2002), 113ff. Of Matthew’s 18 quotations from Isaiah, six are from LXX. Matthaean allusions to (and echoes of) Isaiah can be found in the Loci citati vel allegati in NA28, 857–861. See further especially James E. Patrick, “Matthew’s Pesher Gospel Structured around Ten Messianic Citations of Isaiah,” JTS 61 (2010): 43–81, discussed above (Chapter 3: Structure and Form). Strangely enough, Patrick does not seem to have identified this Isaianic text as a possible background to Matthew. 80 81

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the episode becomes full of prophetic, almost messianic overtones: what the prophet of old expected to occur in the distant future, now becomes visible in the act of prostration (on this see below) of this Jewish leader before Jesus. By adapting the structure of the clause, especially the subordination of ἔρχομαι to the main verb,87 the emphasis comes to fall upon the act of reverence expressed by προσεκύνει αὐτῷ, which is Matthew’s alternative to Mark’s πίπτει πρὸς τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ.88 He further substitutes Mark’s historic present for an imperfect (also in vv. 19, 21, 24) and thereby gets a more lively description of the incident.89 While Mark employs προσκυνέω only twice (5:6; 15:19), Matthew uses it thirteen times.90 He uses the verb προσκυνέω with a verb of “coming” or “approaching” in 2:2, 8; 8:2; 9:18; 15:25; 20:20; 28:9, a combination typical for him. Some of these examples belong to a larger stereotyped clause very similar to what we find here: καὶ ἰδοὺ λεπρὸς προσελθών προσεκύνει αὐτῷ λέγων ὅτι (8:2); ἰδοὺ ἄρχων εἷς ἐλθών προσεκύνει αὐτῷ λέγων ὅτι (9:18); ἡ δὲ ἐλθοῦσα προσεκύνει αὐτῷ λέγουσα (15:25). Different from Luke, where the act of προσκυνήσις is the exclusive prerogative of the divinity (Luke 4:7–8) and appropriate only at the end of Jesus’s earthly career (24:52),91 Matthew develops the προσκυνήσις   Gundry, Matthew, 172, prefers the reading προσελθών to ἐλθών, favoured by Matthew’s diction. Cf. also Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 214–216. Admittedly, it would be appropriate in the context of worship of a divine being, but see Arie W. Zwiep, “The Text of the Ascension Narratives (Luke 24:50–53; Acts 1:1–2, 9–11),” NTS 42 (1996): 232; repr. in idem, Christ, the Spirit and the Community of God: Essays on the Acts of the Apostles, WUNT 2/293 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 23. Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 89–90, prefers ἐλθών as lectio difficilior. 88   Gundry’s slippery claim that Matthew is “stressing Jesus’ deity” (172), may well be an appropriate expression of Matthew’s high view of Jesus, but is problematic if taken out of context. For Matthew, Jesus is “God with us” (μεθ’ ἡμῶν ὁ θεός, Matt 2:23), the exalted Lord and “Son of God,” but that does not make him θεός without further qualification. See esp. J.R. Daniel Kirk, A Man Attested by God: The Human Jesus of the Synoptic Gospels (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2016). On Matthew’s Christology, see further Larry W. Hurtado, Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 316–340. 89   An imperfect “zur Schilderung der Handlung” (Blass-Debrunner 327). This seems more likely than the suggestion of Grosheide, Mattheüs, 151, that the imperfect “misschien ziet op den langen duur.” Turner, Grammar, 4:35, argues perceptively: “True, Matthew has changed Mark’s historic present 78 times (Sanders 246), not because he found it alien to his style, for he has the tense 23 times when it is absent from Mark’s parallel…. As Sanders observes, the use is probably a matter of taste, but, we suspect, strongly affected by Jewish influence” (see Turner, Grammar, 4:20). Fuchs, “Schrittweises Wachstum,” 16–18, argues that the replacement of the historic presents can also be explained in terms of deutero-Markan revision: “Nur die alleinige Möglichkeit mt und lk Redaktion oder gar die behauptete Tatsache ist als Erklärung nicht … glaubhaft. Zu bedenken ist … daß im Fall einer literarischen Bearbeitung schon der erste Redaktor an solchen Fällen Anstoß genommen haben wird und kaum erst Mt und Lk” (his italics). 90   Marshall, Concordance, 946. 91   See Gerhard Lohfink, Die Himmelfahrt Jesu: Untersuchungen zu den Himmelfahrtsund Erhöhungstexten bei Lukas, SANT 26 (Munich: Kösel, 1971), 171–174; idem, “Gab es im 87

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motif as an act of recognition proper to every stage in Jesus’s ministry.92 He normally uses the dative construction (Matt 2:2, 8, 11; 4:9; 8:2; 9:18; 14:33; 15:25; 18:26; 28:9) and twice the absolute (20:20; 28:17, with variations in the manuscripts). In the only indisputable instance in which Matthew uses the accusative (4:10) he follows his source (Q Luke 4:8; ed. Robinson 38 = Deut 6:13).93 It is therefore reasonable to assume that the formulation in the absolute, especially Matt 28:17, has been drawn from a pre-Matthaean (oral or written) source and that the phrase used here (i.e. with a dative) is the result of Matthaean redaction, perhaps encouraged by the idiom of Isa 49:7 LXX. Matthew uses the phrase to focus more clearly on Jesus’s exalted status. There is a subtle shift of attention from Jesus’s feet (τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ) to his person (αὐτῷ). Matthew further condenses the somewhat elaborate Markan scene considerably by removing ἰδὼν αὐτόν (v. 22) and καὶ παρακαλεῖ αὐτὸν πολλά (v. 23) and hence pointing somewhat away from the distressed ruler in favour of his act of reverence. While Matthew takes over Mark’s direct speech (λέγων ὅτι),94 he changes the content of the father’s request drastically. The somewhat problematic Markan phrase ἐσχάτως ἔχει is cleared up95 and redefined by Matthew’s ἄρτι ἐτελεύτησεν “she has just died,” so that the father no longer asks for the healing of his child but for her resuscitation.96 This obviously magnifies the ruler’s faith and complicates the task to be performed. Matthew has ἡ θυγάτηρ μου for Mark’s diminutive τὸ θυγάτριόν μου, perhaps anticipating the parallel with the haemorrhaging woman in v. 22,97 but he does the same in 15:22 | Mark 12:50. The elliptic structure of the father’s request in Mark (ἵνα ἐλθὼν ἐπιθῇς τὰς χεῖρας αὐτῇ ἵνα σωθῇ καὶ ζήσῃ) is improved by Gottesdienst der neutestamentlichen Gemeinde eine Anbetung Christi?,” BZ 18 (1974): 161–179; David D. Kupp, Matthew’s Emmanuel: Divine Presence and God’s People in the First Gospel, SNTSMS 90 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 224–228; Arie W. Zwiep, The Ascension of the Messiah in Lukan Christology, NovTSup 87 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 93–94; Richard B. Hays, Reading Backwards: Figural Christology and the Fourfold Gospel Witness (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2014), chapter 3. 92  Cf. Bultmann, Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, 383, who calls this a minor detail (“Kleinigkeit”). 93  Cf. the various constructions in Philo, Gig. 54 [προσκυνεῖν τὸν θεὸν (Colson, LCL 227:472– 473)]; Mos. 2.23 [τίς δὲ τὴν λεγομένην νηστείαν οὐ τέθηπε καὶ προσκυνεῖ δι᾽ ἔτους (Colson, LCL 289:460–461)]; Decal. 76 μηδεὶς … ἀψύχῳ προσκυνεἰτω (Colson, LCL 320:44–45)]. 94   Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 90, wishes to suppress ὅτι. 95  Contra Schlatter, Matthäus, 316. The phrase is problematic and naturally invites improvement; it is hardly a minor agreement, pace Fuchs, “Schrittweises Wachstum,” 22–24, and there is no need to postulate a deutero-Markan Vorlage. 96   Matt has τελευτάω 4x (2:19; 9:18; 15:4; 22:25); Mark has it in 7:10; 9:44–48; Luke in 7:2 and Acts 2:29; 7:15. Further only in John 11:39 and Heb 11:22. Cf. Fuchs, “Schrittweises Wachstum,” 22–23. 97   Gundry, Matthew, 172. Pace Fuchs, “Schrittweises Wachstum,” 18–22 (a minor agreement that can also be explained with reference to a deutero-Markan Vorlage).

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Matthew on several points. The replacement of the first ἵνα by ἀλλά sharpens the contrast between the message of the girl’s death and the request for her resuscitation. The subjunctive aorist ἐπιθῇς “that you may lay (your hands) upon (her)” is replaced by an imperative aorist ἐπίθες “lay (your hand) upon her,” stressing the urgency of the request, and the subjunctive aorist ζήσῃ “that she may live” by the future indicative ζήσεται “she will live,” expressing more confidence in Jesus’s power on the part of the petitioner. Matthew brings the plural τὰς χεῖρας back to the singular (cf. 8:3, 15; 9:25) and explicates that it is the hand of Jesus (σού) that should be laid upon her (ἐπ᾽ αὐτήν for a dative construction αὐτῇ). The Matthaean version is more in accord with biblical Greek.98 Davies and Allison suggest that the use of the singular may be an assimilation to the biblical language of the hand of God: Jesus’s hand is like the hand of God.99 Perhaps Hellenistic readers of Matthew have associated the hand (sg.) of Jesus with the (right) hand of God/the gods for salvific purposes,100 but there is no clear evidence that this has prompted Matthew’s editing, except for his tendency to exalt the person of Jesus. Matthew omits Mark’s second ἵνα. He changes Mark’s purposive clause ἵνα σωθῇ καὶ ζήσῃ (a typical example of Markan duality), which he may have felt to be somewhat redundant, into a statement of the expected result, thereby removing any doubt as to the effectiveness of Jesus’s action: καὶ ζήσῃ “and she will live (again).” Since the ruler’s request is not for a healing but for a raising from the dead, Matthew leaves out σωθῇ, which may sound somewhat inappropriate in the context. Cf. Gundry: “The omission of a reference to salvation leaves the verb of living to stand alone as a contrast to the verb of dying.”101 In sum, in this verse Matthew’s editorial hand is visible in many instances. There is no convincing indication of the use of source material beyond that found in Mark. Each and every detail can be satisfactorily explained in terms of Matthew’s reworking of his Markan Vorlage. Matt 9:19; Mark 5:24 Rather than have Jesus passively leave the scene, away from the bystanders’s or reader’s position (καὶ ἀπῆλθεν μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ, Mark 5:24), Matthew attributes a more active role to Jesus and explicates Mark’s implied but unnamed subject (καὶ ἐγερθεὶς ὁ Ἰησοῦς), again with the effect of focusing more clearly on the person and activity of Jesus (see also vv. 22, 23). In context, ἐγερθείς may be understood as “rising from the table in the house

98   See the references in Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:126. Cf. also John M. Hull, Hellenistic Magic and the Synoptic Tradition, SBT II/28 (London: SCM, 1974), 140–141. 99   Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:126. 100   Cf. Gregory H.R. Horsley, “The Hand of God,” NewDocs 2 (1982): 44 (no. 9). 101   Gundry, Matthew, 172.

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they were in.”102 By subordinating the first part of the clause to the second (Mark has two coordinate clauses), the emphasis falls on the disciples’ following of Jesus [cf. v. 10 καὶ τοῖς μαθηταῖς αὐτοῦ | Mark 2:15 (Luke 5:29 καὶ ἄλλων). See also v. 9 | Mark 2:14 καὶ (Matthew) ἀναστὰς ἠκολούθησεν αὐτῷ; Luke 5:28 (Levi) ἀναστὰς ἠκολούθει αὐτῷ].103 Matthew replaces the imperfect ἠκολούθει (an imperfect “zur Schilderung der Handlung”) by the aorist ἠκολούθησεν, in line with his usual preference.104 The most striking deviance from Mark is the consistent absence of the pressing crowd that accompanied Jesus and his following in Mark. Consistent with the absence of the crowd in v. 18 (diff. Mark 5:21), Matthew not only strikes καὶ ἠκολούθει αὐτῷ ὄχλος πολὺς καὶ συνέθλιβον αὐτόν, he also removes references to the crowd in v. 21 (diff. Mark 5:30 ἐπιστραφεὶς ἐν τῷ ὄχλῳ; 31 βλέπεις τὸν ὄχλον συνθλίβοντά σε) (the crowd in v. 25 is a different one). Although in Matthew’s version the presence of a crowd is somehow understood,105 it seems to consist of hardly more than the disciples of Jesus and the ruler. Note that Matthew explicitly adds the disciples to the following of Jesus: καὶ οἱ μαθηταὶ αὐτοῦ, which may well serve as Matthew’s compensation for the removed crowd. Michael Wilkins, observing that Matthew strengthens the distinction between the μαθηταί and the ὄχλοι remarked on the role of the disciples in chapter 8: “The inclusion of μαθηταί in vv. 21 and 23 specifically identifies the characters involved as disciples, and the catchword ἀκολουθεῖν serves to link the pericopes together (8:19, 21, 23), so that the entire section stresses a teaching on discipleship along with the miracle working power of Jesus. Matthew specifies for his readers that those involved in this incident were μαθηταί.”106 This special Matthaean treatment of the disciples and the crowds seems to be continued in the present passage. Hence, the absence of the crowd seems to be motivated by more than Matthew’s desire to abbreviate. Elsewhere in Matthew, as Robert Cousland has demonstrated, Matthew gives a fairly unified and favourable portrayal of the crowds, “situated in their approach to Jesus midway between the dis-

102  Cf. Gundry, Matthew, 172; Alexander Sand, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, RNT (Regensburg: Pustet, 1986), 201. 103   On the (non-)identity of Matthew and Levi and its complex textual history, see now Tjitze Baarda, The Calling of the Tax-Collector in the Eastern Diatessaron: Matthew-JamesLevi (Amsterdam: VU University Press, 2015). 104  With UBS3 (and NA 25), Gundry, Matthew, 173 (followed by Davies and Allison, Matthew 2:127), prefers the reading ἠκολούθει (no longer in UBS4.5 and NA 27.28), arguing that “everywhere else in this passage Matthew retains Mark’s imperfect whenever he has a corresponding verb.” But ἠκολούθει is more likely an assimilation to the Markan parallel. 105   Cf. Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 168 (“stillschweigend als Szenerie voraus[ge]setzt”). Gundry, Matthew, 172–173, thinks they are implied by the reference to the disciples. 106   See Michael J. Wilkins, The Concept of Disciple in Matthew’s Gospel as Reflected in the Use of the Term Μαθητής, NovTSup 59 (Leiden: Brill, 1988), esp. 126–172, quotation from 130–131.

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ciples and their leaders.”107 Since “Matthew clearly uses Jesus’ involvement with the crowds to develop his Christology,”108 one might wonder why the crowds are so conspicuously absent in the present pericope, in which the focus on Christology lies on the very surface. Following Gundry and others, I would argue that the absence of the crowd in this part of the story is as much an indication of a christological concern than their presence in other parts. Matthew seems to work here from the principle of “less is more.” By reducing all elements in the story that distract the reader from the focus on Jesus, he makes Jesus the central figure of the story, more prominently so than Mark and Luke.109 3. Tradition and Redaction in Matt 9:20–22 Matt 9:20; Mark 5:25–27 As in v. 19, Matthew adds ἰδού, thus strengthening the parallel of the two scenes.110 He changes Mark’s somewhat awkward οὖσα ἐν ῥύσει αἵματος into a simple αἱμορροοῦσα. While Mark describes the meeting of Jesus and the haemorrhaging woman from the perspective of the woman (ἐλθοῦσα ἐν τῷ ὄχλῳ “she went in the crowd”), Matthew’s perspective is more from Jesus and the disciples (προσελθοῦσα, “she approached, she came nearby”), in line with Matthew’s change of focus in v. 19. The verb προσέρχεσθαι is typical of Matthew (about 50 times), and the combination of προσέρχεσθαι with λέγειν “eine stereotype Formel des Matthäus zur Einleitung von Reden und Gesprächen.”111 Matthew omits the entire description of the woman’s medical history and the implied criticism of the deplorable state of the medical trade of the day. Since Matthew reviews the story from the perspective of Jesus and his disciples he has no need to retain ἀκούσασα περὶ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ, a remark that in Matthew speaks for itself. On the absence of the crowd, see the notes on v. 19. Different from Mark, but in curious agreement with Luke, Matthew not only has προσελθοῦσα in common with Luke, but like him he details that the woman touched “the hem” or “the tassel” (depending on the translation of τοῦ κρασπέδου) of Jesus’s garment. While the latter may be explained under the influence of Mark 6:56,112 where the sick try to “touch even the 107   J. Robert C. Cousland, The Crowds in the Gospel of Matthew, NovTSup 102 (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 201. 108   Cousland, The Crowds, 202. 109   For literature on the role of the crowds in Matthew, see Cousland, The Crowds, and the literature cited there. 110   Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:128, read τις in Mark 5:25 (according to NA27.28 a variant reading) and consequently conclude that Matthew “dropped τις.” 111   Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 214–216 (with reference to Bauer). Quotation from 216. 112   So F. Crawford Burkitt, The Gospel History and Its Transmission (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1906, 31911), 44–45; Frans Neirynck, “The Minor Agreements and the Two-Source Theory,” in

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hem/tassel of his garment,” and προσελθοῦσα may be explained by Luke’s usual tendency to favour composite verbs where Mark has simple verbs,113 this leaves unexplained why Luke, who has no parallel to Mark 6:56, inserts the words τοῦ κρασπέδου at exactly the same place (that is, if these words are authentic; its textual status is not beyond dispute).114 This would either confirm some line of contact between Matthew and Luke or is evidence of the influence of oral transmission.115 However, another line of interpretation sees Matthew’s editorial hand at work here. Whereas in v. 18 he alluded to a text from Scripture (Isa 49:7–8 LXX), he may allude to another scripture in the present verse, viz. Zech 8:23 LXX: Thus says the Lord of hosts: In those days ten men from nations of every language shall take hold of a Jew, grasping his garment (ἐπιλάβωνται τοῦ κρασπέδου) and saying, ‘Let us go with you, for we have heard that God is with you (ὁ θεὸς μεθ᾽ ὑμῶν).

The verb is admittedly a different one (ἐπιλαμβάνω, not ἅπτω) and Zechariah speaks of ten men rather than one woman, but in addition to the touch of the κρασπέδον for a salvific purpose, the words ὁ θεὸς μεθ᾽ ὑμῶν reflect a Matthaean concern as clear as one can get.116 Acknowledging that scriptural allusions are often intuitive rather than straightforward, the prophetic words from Zechariah may well resonate in Matthew’s reworking of Mark.117 It did so, at any rate, by early readers of Zechariah and Matthew.118 Matt 9:21; Mark 5:28–31 By adding ἐν ἑαυτῇ Matthew makes explicit what may have been implied by Mark, namely that the woman spoke to/in herself. This internal dialogue contrasts with Jesus’s public response and strengthens the impression of his prophetic insight already noticeable in v. 4 (cf. 12:25).119 Whereas Mark varEvangelica II: 1982–1991, vol. 2 of Collected Essays, 2 vols., ed. Frans van Segbroeck, BETL 99 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, Peeters, 1991), 12–15. One should not take for granted that Matthew had not read ahead in Mark’s Gospel when he composed his gospel – of course he had. On this minor agreement, see further below under Luke 8:44, and Appendix 1: Text and Transmission, ad loc. 113  Cf. Henry J. Cadbury, The Style and Literary Method of Luke, HTS 6 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1920; repr. New York: Kraus, 1969), 166–168. 114   See below, Appendix 1: Text and Transmission, ad loc. 115   On this minor agreement, see further Fuchs, “Schrittweises Wachstum,” 34–37. 116   See Kupp, Matthew’s Emmanuel; Hays, Reading Backwards, chapter 3. 117   It would fit well the role the book of Zechariah has as a backdrop to the ministry of Jesus, cf. Craig A. Evans, “Jesus and Zechariah’s Messianic Hope,” in Authenticating the Activities of Jesus, ed. Bruce D. Chilton and Craig A. Evans, NTTS 28/1 (Leiden: Brill, 1999; Brill Academic, 2000), 373–388. 118   Surprisingly not in Alberto Ferreiro, ed., The Twelve Prophets, ACCSOT 14 (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2003), 256; Manlio Simonetti, ed. Matthew 1–13, ACCSNT 1a (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2001), 181–185. 119   Cf. Mark 2:6 διαλογιζόμενοι ἐν ταῖς καρδίαις αὐτῶν, v. 8 καὶ εὐθὺς ἐπιγνοὺς ὁ Ἰησοῦς

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ies between the singular (v. 27 τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ) and the plural (v. 28 τῶν ἱματίων αὐτοῦ), Matthew more consistently refers to Jesus’s garment in the singular. Μόνον is Matthaean redaction, which is clear from the comparison with 14:36 | Mark 6:56, where he has the same idiom. Matthew further condenses the immediate follow-up of the woman’s action (Mark 5:29–31) into a brief mention of Jesus’s turning to the woman, his word of consolation, and the narrator’s affirmation that she was healed from that hour onward. Matthew waits to affirm the healing until after the word spoken to the woman by Jesus and drops her inner deliberations (v. 29).120 Nor does he mention that Jesus noticed that power had gone forth from him or the ensuing dialogue with his disciples, with the implied ignorance and/or naivete on the part of Jesus. Again, there is no mention of a pressing crowd, since there is no (or hardly any) crowd in Matthew at this point. The whole focus is on the figure of Jesus.121 Matt 9:22; Mark 5:32–37 In just a few words Matthew summarizes what takes no less than six verses in Mark. While the Markan Jesus looks around to see the person (τις) who had touched him, the Matthaean Jesus looks less insecure and turns right away to the woman (αὐτήν) without the implication that he had to search for her. Matthew further skips the public coming out of the woman because his concern is not with her psychological or physical condition but with the figure of Jesus as the real hero of the story. Bultmann complains that Matthew’s version has lost the original point of the story.122 The imperative θάρσει (from θαρσέω “be of good courage”) recalls the same word in v. 2 (cf. also 14:27), addressed to the paralytic, and reflects Matthew’s strategy to bring out the parallel between the two stories. Θάρσει may in fact be Matthew’s way of indirectly summarizing Mark’s elaborate description of the woman’s psychological condition by focusing not on the woman’s inner feelings but on Jesus’s response. Rather than having Jesus wish her well, the effectiveness of his action is reported by a typically Matthaean third-person statement that the healτῷ πνεύματι αὐτοῦ ὅτι οὕτως διαλογίζονται ἐν ἑαυτοῖς λέγει αὐτοῖς· τί ταῦτα διαλογίζεσθε ἐν ταῖς καρδίαις ὑμῶν; Matt 9:3 εἶπαν ἐν ἑαυτοῖς… v. 4: ἐν ταῖς καρδίαις ὑμῶν. 120   Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 205; cf. Sand, Matthäus, 200. 121    Cf. Wilkins, Concept of Disciple, 156: “The healing of the woman with a haemorrhage occurred in Matthew’s source between the material of 9:21 and 9:22. Within that story in the source was an incident in which the μαθηταί somewhat sarcastically reproached Jesus for asking who had touched him (cf. Mark 5:31). Matthew may have omitted this incident intentionally to protect the disciples, but more likely he was focusing on Jesus in his ministry accompanied by his μαθηταί.” 122   Bultmann, Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, 378: in abbreviating Mark, Matthew did not always proceed in the proper way (“nicht immer geschickt”): “Durch solche Verkürzung haben die Wundergeschichten an Stilreinheit verloren.”

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ing was a fact “from that hour onwards” (cf. 8:13; 15:28; 17:18).123 Matthew seems to have a slightly different conception of salvation than Mark: in v. 18 he skipped “that she would be saved,” in v. 22 he skipped the physical healing. Held has argued that πίστις here amounts to “Gebetsglaube.”124 4. Tradition and Redaction in Matt 9:23–26 Matt 9:23; Mark 5:38 Matthew resumes the Jairus episode and has Jesus (quickly?) arrive at the ruler’s house. The incident with the messengers who told the father that his child had died in the meantime and the subsequent comforting words and actions of Jesus so pivotal to Mark’s version (Mark 5:35–37) are dropped by Matthew for an obvious reason: they are redundant. In his retelling the girl is already dead from the start (v. 18). Consistent with v. 18, the father is referred to as ἄρχων, not as ἀρχισυνάγωγος. Matthew has drastically reduced the number of witnesses of Mark 5:37; Peter, James and John have disappeared into the anonymity of the group of disciples in v. 19. The somewhat clumsy afterthought καὶ οἱ μαθηταὶ αὐτοῦ in v. 19 now turns out to be Matthew’s compensation for Mark 5:37. The father of the child is completely lost out of sight – not to speak of the mother who, in contrast with Mark and Luke, is completely absent from the story. Matthew adapts the Markan paratactic style (καὶ ἔρχονται … καὶ θεωρεῖ … καὶ … λέγει) into a subordinate construction so that all the emphasis comes to fall on what Jesus said: καὶ ἐλθὼν ὁ Ἰησοῦς … καὶ ἰδὼν … ἔλεγεν.125 As in vv. 19 and 22, Matthew adds ὁ Ἰησοῦς as subject of the sentence (diff. Mark), thereby intensifying the focus on Jesus as the protagonist of the story. By replacing the verb θεωρέω (again a historic present θεωρεῖ eliminated) by ἰδών, the Matthaean leitmotiv of seeing in this pericope is accentuated (vv. 18, 22). Matthew’s condensation of Mark 5:38 and the following verses may result (depending on the translation of the verbs of coming) in a slightly different, somewhat unclear picture. According to Mark, Jesus and his disciples arrive at the house (ἔρχονται εἰς τὸν οἶκον, v. 38) and then see the wailing crowd. Then Jesus goes inside (εἰσελθών, v. 39) where the crowd apparently is, given the address to them (αὐτοῖς), commands them to go away (i.e.   See Schlatter, Matthäus, 318, for some rabbinic parallels (Mek. Exod 20:19; 19:2; yŠeb.

123

36c).

124   Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 263–284, esp. 274–275. Cf. also Gerhard Barth, “πίστις, πιστεύω,” EWNΤ 3:224: “Der bittende Glaube geht der Wunderheilung voraus und empfängt das Wunder.” 125   Although Matthew eliminates Mark’s parataxis on 19 occasions, he is not averse to parataxis, given Matt 14:6 | Mark 6:22; Matt 17:11 | Mark 9:12; Matt 21:12 | Mark 11:15; Matt 26:69 | Mark 14:16 (Turner, Grammar, 4:34, with reference to Sanders, Tendencies, 238f.).

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leave the house) and then the company enters the room where the girl lies (εἰσπορεύεται ὅπου ἦν τὸ παιδίον, v. 40). In Matthew, Jesus arrives at the house (ἐλθὼν ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν, v. 23), sees the crowd (standing inside or outside the house?), commands them to go away (ἀναχωρεῖτε, v. 24) and then enters inside (εἰσελθών, v. 25), that is, inside the house or inside the room where the girl lies. Matthew’s rewriting has not given a clearer narrative picture. Matthew uses οἰκία instead of οἶκος, which, strictly speaking, is a minor agreement (cf. Luke 8:51).126 It is extremely difficult if not impossible to distinguish between the two words in the present context. The words were often used synonymously (cf. L&N 1:81). Matthew, according to Gundry, “scales down the triple object ‘clamor and people who were weeping and wailing much’ to the double object ‘the flute players and the clamoring crowd’.”127 The introduction of the flute-players (τοὺς αὐλητάς) adds to the (Jewish or Mediterranean?) couleur locale. Matthew simplifies Mark’s redundant θόρυβον … θορυβεῖσθε to a simple reference to τὸν ὄχλον θορυβούμενον. The use of the articles (τοὺς αὐλητὰς καὶ τὸν ὄχλον, where there are no prior references to these crowds) may be due to Matthew’s inadvertent editing. All deviations from Mark in this verse can be satisfactorily explained by Matthew’s editorial activities. Matt 9:24; Mark 5:39–40a Again, Matthew changes Mark’s historic present (λέγει) into an imperfect (ἔλεγεν),128 and, as elsewhere, avoids redundancy by removing the indirect object αὐτοῖς.129 He drops τί θορυβεῖσθε καὶ κλαίετε in toto (see the previous verse) and has Jesus simply request the bystanders to go away (to leave the scene, see the previous verse). The verb ἀναχωρέω (“to depart from a location”) is a Matthaean favourite.130 Matthew follows the words of Jesus in their Markan form with two exceptions. First, he inserts γάρ, a minor agreement (Luke 8:52), although in Luke it explains why the bystanders should not mourn and in Matthew why they should leave. Second, he substitutes Mark’s designation of the child as τὸ παιδίον into τὸ κοράσιον, anticipating v. 25 (par. Mark 5:42). By placing the verb first, τὸ κοράσιον is put “in an unemphatic position after its verb,” and

  So Fuchs, “Schrittweises Wachstum,” 24–27.   Gundry, Matthew, 175. 128   Turner, Grammar, 4:31, appears to take ἔλεγεν as a typical example of Matthew’s revision of Mark’s asyndeta, but this seems to be a mistake. 129   Turner, Grammar, 4:40, following Sanders, Tendencies, 158f. 130  Matt 2:12, 13, 14, 22; 4:12; 9:24; 12:15; 14:13; 15:21; 27:5; in the New Testament further only in Mark 3:7; John 6:15; Acts 23:19; 26:31. Fuchs, “Schrittweises Wachstum,” 27–30, takes the replacement of the interrogative by a command as a minor agreement. 126 127

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hence contributes, in the words of Gundry, “to Jesus’ solitary splendor.”131 The (understandable) reaction of the bystanders (καὶ κατεγέλων αὐτοῦ) is taken up by Matthew without change. In this verse, then, Matthew’s hand is clearly visible; there are no indications that a source beyond Mark has been used. Matt 9:25; Mark 5:40b–43 The dismissal of the crowd is in the passive, “thus avoiding the picture of Christ as bouncer.”132 Matthew leaves out the vivid description of the follow-up to the girl’s resurrection, including the mention of the girl’s age (the reader of Matthew can only guess about her exact age!), the reaction of the parents and the command to give her to eat. There is no mention of disciples or parents.133 One gets the impression that Jesus enters the girl’s room alone. This is also the case in Matt 8:14–15, where Matthew drops the mention of the four accompanying disciples (Mark 1:29) and avoids the suggestion that other people were present, if λέγουσιν (Mark 1:30) may be taken thus (as in Luke 4:38). Matthew has Peter’s mother in law serve “him” (αὐτῷ, i.e. Jesus) rather than “them” (αὐτοῖς, Jesus and his disciples, Mark 1:31). All the emphasis (there and in the present text) falls on the action of Jesus and its effect. Jesus does not even speak a word.134 This is clearly Matthew’s christological reworking of the Markan text.135 The resurrection terminology employed is strongly reminiscent of Jesus’s own resurrection, which in early Christian usage is often expressed by the verb ἐγείρω.136 Or is it a simple compensation for Mark’s ἔγειρε (v. 41)?137 Perhaps Matthew wished to avoid the impression that the girl stood up herself. Matt 9:26 In stark contrast with Mark (and Luke), where Jesus issues a command not to tell anyone of what had happened, Matthew ignores the words and reports on the contrary that these things (or rather, the resulting rumour) did spread   Gundry, Matthew, 175.   John P. Meier, Mentor, Message, and Miracles, vol. 2 of A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus, 4 vols., ABRL (New York: Doubleday, 1994), 787. 133   Hagner, Matthew, 1:250, observes that “Matthew mentions neither the four disciples nor the girl’s parents” (my italics), but this is clearly a slip of the pen (Mark mentions only three disciples). 134   See on this Hull, Hellenistic Magic, 136–137. 135  Erich Klostermann, Das Matthäusevangelium, HNT 4 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 21927), 75; Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 159–161. See Gundry, Matthew, 147–149, for more details in the story that suggest that “the authoritative figure of Jesus dominates the story from beginning to end.” Fuchs, “Schrittweises Wachstum,” 30, takes (τῆς χειρὸς) αὐτῆς as a minor agreement (Luke 8:54) against (τῆς χειρὸς) τοῦ παιδίου Mark 5:41. 136   See BDAG 272. 137   So Gundry, Matthew, 176. 131

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over that entire region. Probably he did not feel very comfortable with a command of Jesus that was so clearly disobeyed by the disciples and the other bystanders. According to Gundry, this verse is a conflation of Mark 1:28 (καὶ ἐξῆλθεν ἡ ἀκοὴ αὐτοῦ εὐθὺς πανταχοῦ εἰς ὅλην τὴν περίχωρον τῆς Γαλιλαίας) and Mark 1:45 (ὁ δὲ ἐξελθὼν ἤρξατο κηρύσσειν πολλὰ καὶ διαφημίζειν τὸν λόγον).138 Both verses have no parallel in Matthew. It seems likely that he kept these verses to conclude the present pericope. The expression εἰς ὅλην τὴν γῆν ἐκείνην reflects Matthaean diction (cf. Matt 9:31; 14:35); the use of γή for region is typical for Matthew.139 Its redactional character cannot be doubted.140 5. Preliminary Conclusions As a preliminary conclusion it will be observed that all the agreements and differences between Matthew and Mark can be satisfactorily explained by the Two-Source hypothesis or at least by the theory of Markan priority. On a literary level, there is no underlying source detectable other than Mark.141 The differences between Mark and Matthew can be explained by Matthew’s editorial hand: he shortened the episode to the bare essentials and thus managed to bring in a christological focus.142 Matthew works, as we discovered in this chapter, from the principle “less is more.” This does not necessarily rule out the influence of oral tradition (see Chapter 5: Orality and Performance), but as far as the evidence gets, we have at least established a firm literary dependency of Matthew on Mark. Whether this is a convincing and exhaustive explanation of the evidence, remains to be seen in what follows.   Gundry, Matthew, 176.   Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:133, with reference to A.H. McNeile. 140  Also Gundry, Matthew, 176; Davies and Allison, Matthew, 2:133. Turner, Grammar, 4:41–42, takes the phrase “in all that land” as an example of Matthew’s “habit of repeating a phrase within the compass of a short passage [see v. 31], never to use it again,” [but cf. 14:35] and suggests that this is “probably for mnemonic purposes, not clear to us…. It seems no more than a curious habit.” 141   But note the qualifications by Ennulat, Minor Agreements, 157: “Die mtlk Überein­ stimmungen gegen den MkText sind deutlich als nachmk Bearbeitungen zu interpretieren. In den meisten Fällen ist weder mt/lk Redaktion zwingend nachzuweisen noch auszuschließen. Die Kombination verschiedener mtlk Übereinstimmungen innerhalb kleiner Sätze oder Satz­teile läßt allerdings eine Mt und Lk gemeinsame, schon bearbeitete Mk-Vorlage vermuten. Durch eine Neuinterpretation bzw. Neueinordnung von Mt 9,26/Lk 4,14b als ‘missing link’ zwischen zwei MkText-Blöcken [= Mark 4:35–5:43 and 6:1–6a] kann diese Vermutung gestärkt werden.” 142   This is in line with Matthew’s editing habits elsewhere, e.g. in 8:28–34; 9:2–8; 17:14– 21. Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, 176–177, uses the term “Raffung.” Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 170 regards the story as “nicht eigentlich eine Wundergeschichte sondern eine Lehrerzählung über den Glauben.” 138 139

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Finally, there is no need to reduce Matthew’s rewriting to a single motif, let alone connect it to a single Sitz im Leben, such as catechumenal instruction or the public reading and exposition in Church liturgy.143 Even if Matthew would fit such a purpose, his gospel account and its individual episodes could (and did) serve a number of needs. But this can only be argued with sufficient force after we have studied its oral setting (Chapter 5) and its narrative setup (Chapter 6). Before we go into that, we will turn to the Lukan pericope first.

D. Tradition and Redaction in Luke 8:40–56 In this section we will study Luke’s reworking of the Markan pericope in the same way that we reviewed the Matthaean parallel. By applying the conventional tools of tradition and redaction criticism and working from the Two-Source hypothesis, we hope to be able to give a satisfactory explanation of the differences between Mark and Luke and give an answer to the question whether, beyond Mark, other source material can be detected in Luke.144 Needless to say this puts a heavy burden on our research but in the end, it is hoped, the conclusions will be convincing. We will use Markan priority as what it is, a hypothesis, and try to be constantly alert on alternative explanations. In the end, the hypothesis that succeeds to explain the highest number of phenomena in the most coherent way, is the most plausible one. The proof of the pudding, then, is in the eating.

143    George D. Kilpatrick, The Origins of the Gospel according to St. Matthew (Oxford: Clarendon, 1946), 72–100. 144   Cadbury, Style and Literary Method; Suhl, “Die Wunder Jesu,” 477–480; Tim Schramm, Der Markus-Stoff bei Lukas: Eine literarkritische und redaktions­geschichtliche Untersuchung, SNTSMS 14 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971), 126–127 (“Einfluß einer Traditionsvariante wenig wahrscheinlich”); Turner, “The Style of Luke-Acts,” in Grammar, 4:45–63; Ulrich Busse, Die Wunder des Propheten Jesus: Die Rezeption, Komposition und Interpretation der Wundertradition im Evangelium des Lukas, FB 24 (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1977, 21979), 219–231; Ian Howard Marshall, Commentary on Luke, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978), 341–348; Joachim Jeremias, Die Sprache des Lukasevangeliums: Redaktion und Tradition im Nicht-Markusstof des dritten Evangeliums, KEK Sonderband (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1980); Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 74–87; Fischbach, Totenerweckungen, 212–219; Christophe Pichon, Les revivifications en Luc-Actes: Enjeux théologiques et herméneutiques de quatre réécritures (Lc 7,11–17; 8,40–56; Ac 9,36– 43; 20,7–12), Diffusion (Thèse de doctorat, Université de Strasbourg, 2007), 288–305; Adelbert Denaux and Rita Corstjens, in Collaboration with Hellen Mardaga, The Vocabulary of Luke: An Alphabetical Presentation and a Survey of Characteristic and Noteworthy Words and Word Groups in Luke’s Gospel, BTS 10 (Leuven: Peeters, 2009).

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1. Lukan Fingerprints: General Observations The Gospel of Luke has 284 New Testament hapax legomena, one or two of which occur in the present pericope (ἀποθλίβω and [προσαναλόω]).145 Luke’s general style, as Hogeterp and Denaux have recently demonstrated with great care, is characterized by cross-linguistic versality: “His good κοινή Greek may reflect a measure of education in the Greek-speaking world of the time, but his alternation between various registers of Greek [= Biblical Hebraisms from LXX Greek, Hebraistic language from biblical tradition, Aramaisms, Semitisms of mixed backgrounds] may indicate that he was also at home with milieus of acculturated Semitic native speakers among the Jesus-movement who turned to Greek as means of communication.”146 2. Tradition and Redaction in Luke 8:40–42 Luke 8:40; Mark 5:21 The literary context of Luke is identical to Mark’s, namely the return of Jesus from the country of the Gerasenes crossing the lake (Mark 5:1; Luke 8:26). The presence of the boat is implied from v. 37.147 Luke’s geography, however, is less specific. The transitional phrase ἐν δὲ τῷ ὑποστρέφειν τὸν Ἰησοῦν is Luke’s rewriting of Mark’s somewhat overloaded καὶ διαπεράσαντος τοῦ Ἰησοῦ [ἐν τῷ πλοίῳ] πάλιν εἰς τὸ πέραν, thereby removing Mark’s slightly awkward genitive absolute.148 The notion of “return” is an otherwise strong Lukan feature: ὑποστρέφω is used 33x in Luke-Acts, and only 4x in the rest of the New Testament.149 The combination of ἐν τῷ + infinitive (+ accusative) is typical of Luke’s Greek style.150 Luke does not retain Mark’s καὶ ἦν παρὰ τὴν θάλασσαν, but note 5:1 (Ἐγένετο δὲ ἐν τῷ τὸν ὄχλον ἐπικεῖσθαι αὐτῷ καὶ ἀκούειν τὸν λόγον τοῦ θεοῦ καὶ αὐτὸς ἦν ἑστὼς παρὰ τὴν λίμνην Γεννησαρέτ).151 Different from Mark, where a large crowd is pressing in on Jesus, the crowd assumes a more positive role in Luke, at least initially. The definite article (ὁ) before ὄχλος (different from Mark) suggests that it is the usual (already known) crowd that accompanied Jesus (cf. vv. 4, 19), or perhaps even “the (typical) crowd” (note the singular), that is, the people that are   VKGNT 2:450–451; Denaux and Corstjens, Vocabulary of Luke, xxx–xxxiii.  Albert Hogeterp and Adelbert Denaux, Semitisms in Luke’s Greek: A Descriptive Analysis of Lexical and Syntactical Domains of Semitic Language Influence in Luke’s Gospel, WUNT 401 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2018). 147  Hans Klein, Das Lukasevangelium, KEK 1/3 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2006), 322. 148  Cf. Cadbury, Style and Literary Method, 133. 149   Marshall, Concordance, 1067; Denaux and Corstjens, Vocabulary of Luke, 622–623. 150  Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Gospel according to Luke I–X: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, 2 vols. AB 28 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1981), 119–120. 151   Klein, Lukasevangelium, 67: “Die Perspektive des Lk is das Mittelmmer. Nur dies nennt er θάλασσα.” 145

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open to the teaching of Jesus (e.g. 5:1, 19; 6:19; 8:19), the potential followers, and hence role models for Christian discipleship.152 In the New Testament, ἀποδέχομαι occurs in Luke-Acts only (Luke 8:40; 9:11; Acts 2:41; 18:27; 21:17; 24:3; 28:30) and can be said to be characteristic of the author.153 Jesus’s warm welcome by the crowd is motivated by an editorial aside, ἦσαν γὰρ πάντες προσδοκῶντες αὐτόν. Fitzmyer observes that this note ties in with Luke’s omission of the dismissal of the crowd in 8:22 (contrast Mark 4:36).154 Προσδοκάω reflects favourite Lukan vocabulary.155 The periphrastic construction (ἦσαν προσδοκῶντες) is also typical of Luke’s style.156 Bovon, perhaps a bit overly optimistic, argues that the notion of expectation reveals a clear theological statement on the part of Luke: “Dans la tradition juive, on ‘attend’ (προσδοκάω) le Messie (7, 19–20). Au temps de Luc, les chrétiens attendent sa Parousie (2 P 3, 12–14). L’attente, au v. 40, est tout sauf neutre, de même que ὄχλος n’est pas n’importe quelle ‘foule’, mais doit être vu comme l’image du peuple de Dieu (c. v. 47).”157 Luke, then, has completely rephrased Mark, while retaining more or less its content. In this verse, there are no indications that Luke’s editorial changes go beyond his knowledge of (a copy or the content of) the Gospel of Mark. Luke 8:41; Mark 5:22–23a As he does more often,158 Luke adds the attention marker ἰδού to his Markan source to enliven the scenery. As Hogeterp and Denaux have demonstrated,

152   Cf. François Bovon, L’Évangile selon saint Luc (1,1–9,50), CNT 3a (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 1991), 435. Cf. Klein, Lukasevangelium, 322: “die das Evangelium hörende ‘Missions­gemeinde’.” On the somewhat ambivalent role of the crowd(s) in the Synoptics and Acts, see Rudolf Meyer, “ὄχλος,” TWNT 5:585–587 (TDNT 5:586–588); Denaux and Corstjens, Vocabulary of Luke, 466–467. For a somewhat complex, source-critical explanation of why Luke employs here ὄχλος instead of λαός, see George D. Kilpatrick, “The Gentiles and the Strata of Luke” (1970), in The Principles and Practice of New Testament Textual Criticism: Collected Essays, ed. J. Keith Elliott, BETL 96 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, Peeters, 1990), 313–318, esp. 317–318. 153   Denaux and Corstjens, Vocabulary of Luke, 67. 154   Fitzmyer, Luke, 1:745. 155  Luke 1:21; 3:15; 7:19, 20; 8:40; 12:46; Acts 3:5; 10:24; 27:33; 28:6 bis; further only in Matt 11:3 (= Q 7:19); 24:50 (= Q 12:46); 2 Pet 3:12, 13, 14. See also Denaux and Corstjens, Vocabulary of Luke, 535–536. 156   Fitzmyer, Luke, 1:122–123; Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms, 401–415. 157   Bovon, Luc, 1:435. 158   See Luke 5:12 against Mark 1:40 (with Matt 8:2); Luke 5:18 against Mark 2:3 (with Matt 9:2); Luke 7:37 against Mark 14:3 | Matt 26:7; Luke 9:30 against Mark 9:4 (with Matt 17:3); Luke 9:38 against Mark 9:17 | Matt 17:14; Luke 9:39 against Mark 9:17 | Matt 17:15; Luke 10:25 against Mark 12:28 | Matt 22:35; Luke 13:30 against Mark 10:31 | Matt 19:30; Luke 17:23 (ἰδού …ἰδού) against Mark 13:21 (ἴδε … ἴδε) | Matt 24:23 (ἰδού); Luke 22:10 against Mark 14:13 | Matt 26:18; Luke 22:21 against Mark 14:20 | Matt 26:13; Luke 22:47 against Mark 14:43 (with Matt 26:47); Luke 23:50 against Mark 15:43 | Matt 27:57 | John 1:38; Luke 24:4 against Mark 16:5; cf. Matt 28:2.

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it is “biblical Greek.”159 Now it should not go unnoticed that ἰδού, an alleged minor agreement,160 has a slightly different function than it has in its Matthaean parallel. Whereas in Matt 9:18 it marks an interruption of a speech, here it simply redirects the reader’s focus from the assembled crowd to the arrival of Jairus. Luke further replaces Mark’s historic present (ἔρχεται) by an aorist (ἦλθεν), as he will do consistently throughout this episode with one exception only (v. 49). The introduction of the petitioner follows a typically Lukan pattern (καὶ ἰδού ἀνήρ/ἄνθρωπος/γυνή, Luke 2:25; 7:37; 10:25; 13:11; 14:2; 19:2)161 and takes a different route in comparison to Mark. Luke first states that the petitioner is a man (ἀνήρ, only implied in Mark), thereby anticipating the introduction of a female character in v. 43 (γυνή), typical of Luke’s narrative strategy, according to which he balances male-female roles.162 Luke rephrases Mark’s ὀνόματι Ἰάϊρος in ᾧ ὄνομα Ἰάϊρος for no clear reason but stylistic variation (Luke knows and uses both constructions in his two-volume work).163 Jairus’s function is described in a paratactic sentence introduced by καὶ οὗτος.164 Luke changes Mark’s εἷς τῶν ἀρχισυναγώγων into ἄρχων τῆς συναγωγῆς “(a) ruler of the synagogue,” although he is also familiar with the term ἀρχισυνάγωγος (v. 49, where it refers to Jairus; 13:14; Acts 13:15 (plural); 18:8, 17). This is probably for the sake of variation.165 The verb ὑπάρχω is a Lukan favourite (3x in Matt, 40x in Luke-Acts, 17x in the other New Testament writings).166 Luke omits ἰδὼν αὐτόν (Jairus seeing Jesus), as he does with other verbs of seeing in this pericope: in v. 45 he removes βλέπεις (Jesus seeing the crowds) from Mark 5:31, in v. 46 καὶ περιεβλέπετο ἰδεῖν (Jesus looking around to see) from Mark 5:32, in v. 52 θεωρεῖ (Jesus seeing the mourners) from Mark 5:38. It is difficult to find an explanation. 159   Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms, 207–212. See also Chapter 2: Text and Translation, under Luke 8:41. 160   See Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 84; Ennulat, Minor Agreements, 151, for a discussion of this minor agreement. 161   Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 75. 162   See Luke 1:5–38 (Zechariah) | 1:39–45 (Elisabeth); 2:25–35 (Simeon) | 2:36–38 (Anna); 4:31–37 (the man with an unclean spirit) | 4:38–39 (Peter’s mother-in-law), et passim. 163   Cadbury, Style and Literary Method, 155–156. 164   For the variant reading καὶ αὐτός, see Appendix 1: Text and Transmission. 165  Contra Fuchs, “Schrittweises Wachstum,” 37–39, who takes this as a minor agreement. Cf. C.F. Evans, Saint Luke, TPI NT Commentaries (London: SCM; Philadelphia: Trinity Press International, 1990), 389: “[P]erhaps in order to explain the term at its first occurrence.” 166  Alfred Plummer, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to S. Luke, ICC (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1896, 51922; repr. 1981), 234; John Martin Creed, The Gospel according to St. Luke: The Greek Text with Introduction, Notes and Indices (London: Macmillan; New York: St Martin’s Press, 1965), 122 n.41; Denaux and Corstjens, Vocabulary of Luke, 617–618.

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Again, Luke eliminates the historic present and makes it a subordinate participle (πεσών), improves the idiom (παρά, perhaps suggesting a certain distance), and explicates that Jairus fell down, not at his own feet as a casual reader of Mark perhaps might think but at the feet of Jesus ([τοῦ] Ἰησοῦ). Note that once again a historic present (παρεκάλει) has been eliminated. Luke 8:42; Mark 5:23b–24b From this point onwards Luke drastically abbreviates the request of Jairus, even to such an extent that he fails to state the specific question for the laying on of hands167 and the healing.168 Jairus is not asking Jesus to heal his daughter (although he would have hoped for it of course), but to come into his house. To do what exactly? Luke further turns Jairus’s words into indirect speech so that, in Luke’s version, we do not hear the voice of Jairus. Luke seems to expect the reader to understand that Jairus’s invitation to Jesus to come over to his house where he has a sick daughter is a clearenough request for her healing. At any rate, the major point of the request has become the trustful act of the petitioner, not the hoped-for result. Luke reduces the various Markan designations of the girl to just two general ones: θυγάτηρ (v. 49) and (ἡ) παῖς (vv. 51, 54). Beyond Mark, he informs his readership that the child was Jairus’s θυγάτηρ μονογενής and thereby creates a symmetry with the son of the widow at Nain, who was his mother’s μονογενὴς υἱός (7:12), another example of Luke’s male-female balancing tendency (see above). Μονογενής in the sense of “one and only, only” is a Lukan favourite (7:12; 8:42; 9:38; further only in Heb 11:17)169 and is clearly brought in by Luke to create an intertextual link with the widow’s son at Nain. Gregory Horsley cites apparently two distinct funerary epigrams on the same funerary monument about a certain Dorotheos, whose only child, an eighteen year old girl, had died just before marriage: “Dorotheos her father buried Theodosia, aged eighteen, his only child and a virgin (μονογενῆ καὶ παρθένον). She was about to be married (but) on the twentieth day of the month Tybi you took her, evil spirit, you who did not fatefully spin for her a return back (home), as she expected. Eighteen years old, still a virgin, the only child (ἔτι παρθένος οἰογένεια) Theodosia lies (here), daughter of Dorotheos. But hard-hearted Charon, why did the kind girl delight you so much as to leave infinite grief to her father? [Theodosia also called] Kalypso, aged 18.”170 167   Ian Howard Marshall, The Gospel of Luke: A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978), 343: “perhaps because it was not fulfilled.” 168   A bit far-fetched is Schweizer’s suggestion that the absence of the laying of of hands is intended to avoid prescribing how Jesus was expected to offer help: “[E]r (the petitioner) schreibt Jesus nicht vor, wie er helfen soll,” Eduard Schweizer, Das Evangelium nach Lukas übersetzt und erklärt, NTD 3 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1986), 98: 169   BDAG 658; Denaux and Corstjens, Vocabulary of Luke, 406. 170  Gregory H.R. Horsley, “A Jewish Family from Egypt in Rome,” NewDocs 4 (1987):

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Luke’s comment that “she was dying” (αὐτὴ ἀπέθνῃσκεν) clarifies Mark’s more obscure language (ἐσχάτως ἔχει) and prepares the reader for the dramatic news to come.171 It thus heightens the narrative tension.172 Significantly, Luke transfers the age of the girl, which in Mark’s version is an afterthought at the end of the story (Mark 5:42), to the beginning of the episode, thereby anticipating on the twelve years of the haemorrhaging woman’s period of illness and thus strengthening the parallel and/or contrast with the two episodes. This is Lukan redaction.173 Luke adds ὡς (+ numeral) to ἐτῶν δώδεκα, as he does elsewhere (cf. 1:56; Acts 1:15 v.l.; 4:4; 5:7, 36; 13:18, 20; 27:37).174 Michael Wolter has noted that this is a highly unusual way of expression (“literarisch unüblich”), for which he could cite only a few parallels.175 This makes Lukan redaction virtually undisputable. Luke abbreviates by leaving out Mark’s strange mentioning of Jesus following Jairus (Mark 5:24 καὶ ἀπῆλθεν μετ᾽ αὐτοῦ. καὶ ἠκολούθει αὐτῷ) and by launching a new brief episode introduction parallel to v. 40 (ἐν δὲ τῷ ὑπάγειν αὐτόν). He changes Mark’s ὄχλος πολύς to the stereotyped οἱ ὄχλοι (plural). Συνέθλιβον becomes συνέπνιγον (only here and in v. 14; lit. “cause plants to die”).176 In all of this, Luke’s editorial hand is clearly visible; no sources beyond Mark are visible. 3. Tradition and Redaction in Luke 8:43–48 Luke 8:43; Mark 5:25–26 With the exception of ἀπό Luke takes over the first part of this verse from Mark without alterations – he changes Mark’s δώδεκα ἔτη into ἀπὸ ἐτῶν δώδεκα to strengthen the parallel with the girl, v. 42 (ὡς) ἐτῶν δώδεκα – but he has otherwise completely rewritten Mark’s report of woman’s medical history, not only from the point of grammar (Mark’s Greek is complex) but also with regard to its content. While in Mark there is a note of critique on the medical profession of the time (the physicians seem to be held responsible for her deteriorating condition), there is no such sentiment in Luke’s version. The (textually uncertain) remark that the woman “had spent all she had to physicians” (under the circumstances the normal way to do, hence 221–222 (no. 114). 171   See above, Chapter 2: Text and Translation, under Mark 5:23, on the alleged difficulties surrounding the term ἐσχάτως ἔχει. 172  Michael Wolter, Das Lukasevangelium, HNT 5 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2008), 323. 173   See Cadbury, Style and Literary Method, 78–79, including more examples of Luke changing the Markan order within a section. 174   Denaux and Corstjens, Vocabulary of Luke, 652–653. 175   Wolter, Lukasevangelium, 325. 176   Plummer, Luke 234, suggests that συνέθλιβον is less strong than συνέπνιγον. Cf. also v. 45.

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“although she had spent all she had”), serves to underline the seriousness of her condition and her previous efforts to find healing, and the remarks that “she could not be healed by anyone” expresses the hopelessness of her condition. A number of authors like to see Luke the physician’s hand at work here by refusing the caricature of his profession,177 but positive evidence of such a sentiment is lacking, θεραπεύω being the normal word for physical healing, employable by any writer, medical or not.178 Luke 8:44; Mark 5:27–29 In this verse we find two minor agreements of Luke and Matthew against Mark, viz. προσελθοῦσα, which is really a minor minor agreement, given Luke’s known preference for composite verbs, and τοῦ κρασπέδου, which, it should not go unnoticed, is also found in Mark 6:56 in a summarizing statement about Jesus’s successful healing activities: καὶ παρεκάλουν αὐτὸν ἵνα κἂν τοῦ κρασπέδου τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ ἅψωνται· τοῦ κρασπέδου καὶ ὅσοι ἂν ἥψαντο αὐτοῦ ἐσῴζοντο (parr. Matt 14:36; unparalleled in Luke, but cf. Acts 19:11–12).179 Schürmann and Nolland rightly conclude that this minor agreement “probably comes ultimately from Mark 6:56.”180 It should not go unnoticed that the words τοῦ κρασπέδου are absent from Codex Bezae, some Latin versions and perhaps from Marcion and may well be the result of scribal assimilation (see Appendix 1: Text and Transmission).181 They cannot 177   William Kirk Hobart, The Medical Language of St. Luke: A Proof from Internal Evidence that ‘The Gospel according to Luke’ and ‘The Acts of the Apostles’ Were Written by the Same Person, and That the Writer Was a Medical Man (Grand Rapids: Baker, [1882] 1954); Plummer, Luke, 235: “It is natural that ‘the physician’ does not add, as Mk. does, that she had suffered much at the hands of the physicians, and was worse rather than better for their treatment”; Adolf Harnack, Lukas der Arzt: Der Verfasser des dritten Evangeliums und der Apostelgeschichte. Eine Untersuchung zur Geschichte der Fixierung der urchristlichen Überlieferung, BENT 1 (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1906), 129: “Hier ist die medicinische Haltung des Verfassers besonders deutlich: er streicht die böse Bemerkung des Markus über die Ärzte einfach weg – wie verständlich, wenn er selbst Arzt war, und wie unverständlich, wenn er zum Publikum gehörte! … [D]ie unfeinen Worte, die Markus noch hinzugefügt hat, hat er diskret unterdrückt.” Cf. also E. Earle Ellis, The Gospel of Luke, NCB (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; London: Marshall, Morgan & Scott, [1966], 21974), 130 (“In condensing the account ‘Luke the Physician’ chooses to omit Mark’s (5:26) derogatory reference to his profession”). Different: Cadbury, Style and Literary Method, 39–72 (“alleged medical style”). 178   But cf. Denaux and Corstjens, Vocabulary of Luke, 288, on θεραπεύω ἀπό as reflecting Lukan usage. 179   Fitzmyer, Luke, 1:743, mistakenly takes ὄπισθεν as a minor agreement. 180  Heinz Schürmann, Das Lukasevangelium 1: Kommentar zu Kapitel 1,1–9,50, 3 vols., HThKNT 3 (Freiburg: Herder, 1969, 21984), 490–491 n. 138; John Nolland, Luke 1–9,20, 2 vols., WBC 35A (Dallas, TX: Word, 1989), 419. Also Marshall, Luke, 344–345, keeping the option of oral tradition open. According to Luz, Matthäus, 2:51 n.7, this minor agreement is evidence that Luke knew Matthew. This is disputed by Neirynck, “Minor Agreements,” 12–15. 181   Creed, Luke, 123: “This [the addition of τοῦ κρασπέδου in Matt and Luke] may be ac-

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bear the weight of demonstrating non-Markan source material or a MatthewLuke connection. In Luke there is no dialogue (internal or not) on the side of the woman. As in the case of Jairus, Luke simply describes the external conditions: the approach of the woman, her touch of Jesus’s garments, her instant healing. As in v. 55, Luke replaces Mark’s εὐθύς for his favourite παραχρῆμα (cf. v. 47).182 Cf. also v. 47, where he adds παραχρῆμα to his Markan source. Held notes that the notion of suddenness (παραχρῆμα) “zur Topik der hellenistischen Wunderheilungen gehört.”183 In comparison to Mark’s elaborate description Luke strongly simplifies the result in what is certainly not a professional medical description (ἔστη ἡ ῥύσις τοῦ αἵματος αὐτῆς)184 and strikes the woman’s internal monologue (καὶ ἔγνω τῷ σώματι ὅτι ἴαται ἀπὸ τῆς μάστιγος).185 Luke 8:45; Mark 5:30–31b Luke makes Peter, whom he knew to be present from Mark 5:37 and who takes an otherwise prominent role in his two-volume work,186 spokesperson of the disciples, thereby anticipating his leadership role in the early church as foretold by the Lukan Jesus (22:32) and realized in Acts.187 In the New Testament, ἐπιστατής is a Lukan favourite, exclusively used as an address to Jesus by the disciples, in particular by Peter [Luke 5:5 καὶ ἀποκριθεὶς Σίμων εἶπεν· ἐπιστάτα; 8:24 (the disciples in a storm, ἐπιστάτα ἐπιστάτα), 45 εἶπεν ὁ Πέτρος· ἐπιστάτα; 9:33 εἶπεν ὁ Πέτρος πρὸς τὸν Ἰησοῦν· ἐπιστάτα, 49 Ἀποκριθεὶς δὲ Ἰωάννης εἶπεν· ἐπιστάτα] or would-be disciples [17:13 καὶ αὐτοὶ (ten lepers) ἦραν φωνὴν λέγοντες· Ἰησοῦ ἐπιστάτα]. Its Lukan cidental, or, more probably, we should omit the word [sic] in Lk. with D etc.” 182   Denaux and Corstjens, Vocabulary of Luke, 480–481; Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms, 17 (following L. Rydbeck). 183   Held, “Matthäus als Interpret,” 167 + n.2, 170. 184  Contra Hobart, Medical Language, 15; Plummer, Luke, 235. See on this text: Annette Weissenrieder, “Die Plage der Unreinheit? Das antike Krankheitskonstrukt ‘Blutfluss’ in Lk 8,43–48,” in Jesus in neuen Kontexten, ed. Wolfgang Stegemann, Bruce J. Malina, and Gerd Theissen (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 2002), 75–85; trans. “The Plague of Uncleanness? The Ancient Illness Construct ‘Issue of Blood’ in Luke 8:43–48,” in Social Setting of Jesus and the Gospels, ed. Wolfgang Stegemann, Bruce J. Malina, and Gerd Theissen (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2002), 207–227; Weissenrieder, Images of Illness in the Gospel of Luke: Insights of Ancient Medical Texts, WUNT 2/164 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003). 185   Cf. Philip Sellew, “Interior Monologue as a Narrative Device in the Parables of Luke,” JBL III/2 (1992): 251 (239–253). 186   See Karl P. Donfried, “Peter,” ABD 5 (1992), 251–263, esp. 258–260; Otto Böcher, “Petrus I: Neues Testament,” TRE 26 (1996), 263–273, esp. 266–267 (literature 271–273); Timothy Wiarda, Peter in the Gospels: Pattern, Personality and Relationship, WUNT 2/127 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000). 187   Cf. Arie W. Zwiep, Judas and the Choice of Matthias: A Study on Context and Concern of Acts 1:15–26, WUNT 2/187 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004), 130.

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origin is unquestioned.188 Peter refers to the bystanders as οἱ ὄχλοι (in the plural), Luke’s more negative designation of the people (see above). As earlier, Luke omits the notion of seeing, see v. 41. Luke replaces Mark’s single συνθλίβοντά (Mark 5:31) into συνέχουσίν σε καὶ ἀποθλίβουσιν.189 Luke 8:46; Mark 5:31c The disciples’ rhetorical question in Mark is changed by Luke into a firm statement by Jesus himself: ἥψατό μού τις, so that Jesus answers his own question (v. 45). Luke changes Mark’s authorial comment (ἐπιγνοὺς ἐν ἑαυτῷ τὴν ἐξ αὐτοῦ δύναμιν ἐξελθοῦσαν, v. 30) into an explicit first-person statement by Jesus: ἐγὼ γὰρ ἔγνων δύναμιν ἐξεληλυθυῖαν ἀπ’ ἐμοῦ. Luke leaves out the turning around of Jesus and his inspection of the crowds: the action is all quite straightforward; there is not even a hint of Jesus’s superior knowledge that it was a woman who had touched him (contrast Mark 5:32 ἰδεῖν τὴν τοῦτο ποιήσασαν). Luke 8:47; Mark 5:32–33 It is not Jesus who sees (Mark 5:32) but the woman. The phrase ὅτι οὐκ ἔλαθεν (from λανθάνω “to escape notice”) is Luke’s rewriting of the woman’s internal condition in Mark (φοβηθεῖσα … εἰδυῖα ὃ γέγονεν αὐτῇ). There is no inside view in Luke, not even the woman’s fear is mentioned; just the visible phenomena (τρέμουσα … ἦλθεν … προσπεσοῦσα … ἀπήγγειλεν). The absence of καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ πᾶσαν τὴν ἀλήθειαν may suggest that “Luk meint (diff Mk), es sei nicht nötig, daß die Frau vor dem wissenden Jesus bekannte.”190 What follows is a full retelling of Mark in clearly Lukan diction: δι᾽ ἣν αἰτίαν [this expression occurs also in Acts 10:21 (αἰτία δι᾽ ἣν); 22:24; 2 Tim 1:6, 12; Tit 1:13; Heb 2:11] ἥψατο αὐτοῦ ἀπήγγειλεν ἐνώπιον παντὸς τοῦ λαοῦ (cf. Luke 2:10, 31; 3:21; 7:29; 9:13; 11:53; 18:43; 19:48; 20:6, 45; 21:38; 24:19; Acts 3:9, 11; 4:10; 5:34; 10:41; 13:24) καὶ ὡς ἰάθη παραχρῆμα (see v. 44).191 Luke 8:48; Mark 5:34 Luke takes over his Markan source with two exceptions. First, he prefers πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην to Mark’s ὕπαγε εἰς εἰρήνην, thus strengthening the parallel with Jesus’s word to the sinful woman in 7:50 (not in Mark): εἶπεν δὲ πρὸς τὴν γυναῖκα· ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε· πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην (cf. also  Otto Glombitza, “Die Titel διδάσκαλος und ἐπιστατής für Jesus bei Lukas,” ZNW 49 (1948): 275–278; Pierre-Yves Brandt and Alessandra Lukinovich, “L’adresse à Jésus dans les évangiles synoptiques,” Bib 82 (2001): 17–50 (esp. 33–34); Denaux and Corstjens, Vocabulary of Luke, 242. 189  Cf. Creed, Luke, 123: “This is more deferential than the brusque expostulation in Mark.” 190   Schürmann, Lukasevangelium, 1:492. 191  Cf. Marshall, Luke, 346: “[T]he language is heavily Lucan.” 188

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Acts 16:36 πορεύεσθε ἐν εἰρήνῃ, with an ironic twist). See also Luke 17:19 (καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ· ἀναστὰς πορεύου· ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε); 18:42 par. (καὶ ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν αὐτῷ· ἀνάβλεψον· ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε). Hogeterp and Denaux have argued that the command to go in peace (πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην) is a precise Lucan rendering of “biblical Greek.”192 Second, Luke does not adopt the Markan καὶ ἴσθι ὑγιὴς ἀπὸ τῆς μάστιγός σου, probably to avoid focussing too much on the physical aspect of salvation or to avoid having Jesus speaking in the “wishing mode.” At any rate, to the readers it is already clear that the healing had taken place (v. 44). To summarize, in this whole section (vv. 43–48) there is no evidence of the use of documentary sources beyond the Gospel of Mark. 4. Tradition and Redaction in Luke 8:49–56 Luke 8:49; Mark 5:35 The genitive absolute ἔτι αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος (from Mark 5:35; also in Luke 22:47, 60; cf. Acts 10:44; further also in Matt 12:46; 17:5; 26:47) marks a conventional transition. Luke reduces the plural number of messengers to a single person. Does he find it strange to have more than one person say the same lines? Note that he did the same with Peter in v. 31. This is the only instance in the episode where Luke, for some reason, retains the historic present, even though he does change its number (Mark ἔρχονται; Luke ἔρχεται) and corrects the language,193 arguably because he found a historic present to enliven the scenery appropriate at this point of the narrative. Luke places τέθνηκεν (perfect tense, “she is dead”) first, to stress the definitiveness of the situation (cf. v. 42; Mark has the aorist ἀπέθανεν “she has died”)194 and changes the words of the messengers from a question (τί ἔτι σκύλλεις;) to a command (μηκέτι σκύλλε, cf. 7:6 μὴ σκύλλου).195 Luke 8:50; Mark 5:36 Luke solves the Markan ambiguity contained in παρακούσας (“he happened to hear” or “he did not hear”) by substituting ἀκούσας: Jesus did hear what was said on the occasion.196 Perhaps it was unthinkable for Luke that he hadn’t or he surmised that it was obvious from the context that he had. Strictly speaking, Jesus’s answer could have been directed to the messenger (αὐτῷ = τις παρὰ τοῦ ἀρχισυναγώγου) rather than to Jairus, as in the   Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms, 169–173 with references.  Adolf Schlatter, Das Evangelium des Lukas aus seinen Quellen erklärt (Stuttgart: Calwer, 1931, 21960), 87: “ἔρχεταί τις παρὰ τοῦ ἀρχισυναγώγου. Das ist griechischer als ἔρχονται ἀπὸ τοῦ ἀρχισυναγώγου.” 194   Fischbach, Totenerweckungen, 216: “[E]s wird nicht das ‘Verstorbensein’ betont, sondern das ‘Totsein.’” 195  Cf. Cadbury, Style and Literary Method, 82. 196   See Cadbury, Style and Literary Method, 167. 192 193

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Markan version. But this would imply that the comforting words of Jesus were addressed to the messenger rather than to Jairus, which makes little sense in the context. The command μὴ φοβοῦ, taken over from Mark, is specially prominent in Luke-Acts (Luke 1:30; 2:10; 5:10; 12:4 pl., 7 pl., 32; Acts 18:9, 27:24).197 In this pericope Luke is otherwise somewhat inaccurate in his treatment of antecedents (cf. e.g. αὐτῆς in v. 54), so it may easily be concluded that the ambiguity results from Luke’s rewriting the somewhat awkward Markan text (παρακούσας τὸν λόγον λαλούμενον λέγει τῷ ἀρχισυναγώγῳ) into a simple three-word clause ἀκούσας ἀπεκρίθη αὐτῷ, removing, as usual, once more one of Mark’s historic presents, and, by writing off τῷ ἀρχισυναγώγῳ, unwittingly creating confusion. Different from Mark’s present imperative πίστευε (“continue to have faith”), Luke has an aorist imperative (πίστευσον, stressing the act of faith,198 or the need to start believing, “start to believe”).199 Bovon notes that the aorist imperative here “attend une exécution rapide dans une situation déterminée.” 200 As in Mark, faith in whom or in what is left unspecified, but if we accept Teresa Morgan’s conclusion that πίστις is a relational concept, the emphasis is on the faithrelationship in which the woman stands (see on this further Chapter 6: Story and Narrative).201 The addition καὶ σωθήσεται strengthens the parallel with Jesus’s word to the haemorrhaging woman in v. 48 (ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε), and specifies the envisioned outcome of Jesus’s call to faith, taking up the distinctly Lukan theme of salvation, here salvation from death. The subject of σωθήσεται must be implied from the context: “she will be saved” (v. 49), another instance of Luke’s loose treatment of grammar. Nolland notes that the juxtaposition of faith and salvation parallels that in v. 48.202 However, it should not go unnoticed that Luke enlarges the extent of salvation: while the woman’s faith led to her own salvation, Jairus’s faith leads (also?) to the salvation of his daughter. Luke’s hand is heavily at work in this verse; there is no evidence that he had access to sources/information beyond the Markan story. Luke 8:51; Mark 5:37–38a In Mark, Jesus’s words of prohibition are spoken on the way, at the scene of the haemorrhaging woman’s healing, before they arrive at the house of Jairus. In Luke, they are spoken after the arrival at the scene, a convenient way for Luke to join the mother to the company of Jesus, Jairus and the disciples (Luke adds   Denaux and Corstjens, Vocabulary of Luke, 631–632.   So also Fitzmyer, Luke, 1:748. 199   Moulton, Grammar, 3:75; Marshall, Luke, 347. 200   Bovon, Luc, 1:439 n.60. 201  Teresa Morgan, Roman Faith and Christian Faith: Pistis and Fides in the Early Roman Empire and Early Churches (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). 202   Nolland, Luke, 1:421. 197 198

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καὶ τὸν πατέρα τῆς παιδὸς καὶ τὴν μητέρα here from Mark 5:40). Having arrived “at the house” [εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν (sc. τοῦ ἀρχισυναγώγου, v. 49); Mark 5:38], he let no one go inside, “into the house” (see Chapter 2: Text and Translation, at Luke 8:51). Note that οἰκία is a minor agreement, see at Matt 9:23. According to Hogeterp and Denaux, εἰ μή (after a negation)is common enough in ancient Greek and should not be taken as a Semitism or Aramaism.203 Luke changes the order of names from “Peter, James and John (the brother of James)” into “Peter, John and James,” the usual order in Luke-Acts when the three are mentioned as a group (8:51; 9:28; Acts 1:13, Peter and John being steady companions in Acts, James is a less prominent actor). 204 The reader of Luke knows from 5:10 that John and James were sons of Zebedee, hence brothers, but unlike Mark (Mark 1:19, 29; 3:17; 5:37) he does not call James “brother of John” until Acts 12:2, perhaps to avoid a possible confusion with the “brother of (the other) James.” 205 Luke 8:52; Mark 5:38b–39 Luke does not record what Jesus saw (as in Mark and Matthew) but simply describes the scenery. Is it possible that the mourners in v. 52 are the persons instanced in v. 51? If so, the laughers (v. 53) are the disciples and the parents! A more likely explanation, however, is that this is another example of Luke’s free and somewhat loose editing style.206 This goes also for the unstated subject of ἀπέθανεν and καθεύδει; Luke seems to have overlooked the fact that he (different from Mark and Matthew) failed to mention the crowd of mourners (only implied from πάντες) and the girl as subject of ἀπέθανεν and καθεύδει. As in v. 49, Luke changes a question (τί … κλαίετε;) into a command (μὴ κλαίετε), thereby strengthening the authority of Jesus. Although strictly speaking γάρ is a minor agreement with Matt 8:24, their function is different. In Matthew γάρ explains why the mourners should leave, in Luke why there is no need to weep. Πάντες is a typical marker of Lukan style.207 Luke 8:53; Mark 5:40a The words καὶ κατεγέλων αὐτοῦ are taken over from Mark without change but Luke adds εἰδότες ὅτι (she) ἀπέθανεν (another instance of loose writing),   See the discussion in Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms, 465–466.   Plummer, Luke, 237, refers to Irenaeus who “had a text which omitted καὶ Ἰωάννην: Quintem autem ingressus Dominus ad mortuam puellam suscitavit eam, nullum enim, inquit, permisit intrare nisi Petrum et Jacobum et patrem et matrem puellae (ii.24.4). No existing text makes this omission.” See on this Appendix 1: Text and Transmission, under Luke 8:51. 205   Creed, Luke, 124, also thinks that the change of the order of the names “is perhaps significant,” but he fails to give an explanation. Cf. Klein, Lukasevangelium, 325: “Johannes, der bekanntere der Jünger, wird vor Jakobus genannt” (italics mine). 206   Evans, Luke, 392: “Luke’s rewriting here [in vv. 51–53, az] is loose and confusing.” 207   Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 80; Denaux and Corstjens, Vocabulary of Luke, 483–487. 203

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thereby ruling out the suggestion that those present were all mistaken in their belief in the girl’s death. While in the history of interpretation sometimes doubt has been expressed as to whether in Mark’s version the girl had really died, this is established beyond any reasonable doubt as far as Luke is concerned.208 Again, the tension in the story is heightened, preparing for what comes. Luke 8:54; Mark 5:40b–41 In Luke’s version Jesus and his company seem to be in the house, or even in the girl’s room already.209 Does Luke perhaps envision a single-room apartment? There is no expulsion of the mourners between vv. 53 and 54, perhaps because Luke wished to save this motif for the parallel story in Acts, Peter’s raising of Tabitha from the dead (Mark 5:40 αὐτὸς δὲ ἐκβαλὼν πάντας; Acts 9:40 ἐκβαλὼν δὲ ἔξω πάντας). See on this further below. There is no need for Luke to state who went in (as in Mark 5:40) since he did so already in v. 51. Again Luke abbreviates his source at the cost of clarity. The (implied) antecedent of αὐτῆς is found as far back as v. 49. This is obviously an editorial infelicity due to Luke’s abbreviation, perhaps a slight indication that Luke works with a written text. As often, Luke substitutes δέ for καί in Mark.210 The verb ἐφώνησεν is a characteristic Lukan replacement for Mark’s λέγει.211 Marshall thinks that “the choice of word … perhaps suggests that her spirit is distant and has to be summoned back to her body.” 212 Not surprisingly, Luke omits the Aramaic words of Jesus and its Markan translation. He uses the definite article elsewhere with the vocative (Luke 10:21; 18:11, 13). Elsewhere he also consistently deletes or translates the Markan Aramaic words and his translations.213 In addition to the courtesy to his   Rochais, Récits de résurrection, 79.   Cf. differently Klein, Lukasevangelium, 325 (50), who argues that v. 52 describes what happened earlier: “Nachgetragen wird, was eigentlich vorher geschehen ist. Die Versammelten (πάντες) halten bereits Totenklage.” He adds (in n.42): “Dies geschieht wahrscheinlich im Hof, weil sie nicht in das Zimmer mitgenommen werden. Wer den Nachtrag durch Lk nicht beachtet, hat den Eindruck, die Menge sie mit im Sterbezimmer.” 210   See Cadbury, Style and Literary Method, 142–145: “The most obvious fact about Luke’s use of co-ordinate conjunctions discovered by comparison with Mark is his preference for δέ over καί.” 211   Denaux and Corstjens, Vocabulary of Luke, 635–636. 212   Marshall, Luke, 348. 213  Mark 3:17 βοανηργές ὅ ἐστιν υἱοὶ βροντῆς | Luke 6:14 – | Matt 10:2 –; Mark 7:34 ἐφφαθα, ὅ ἐστιν διανοίχθητι | Luke no par.; | Matt 15:30 –; Mark 10:46 ὁ υἱὸς Τιμαίου, Βαρτιμαῖς | Luke 18:35 – | Matt 20:30 –; Mark 14:36 αββα, ὁ πατήρ | Luke 22:42 πάτερ | Matt 26:39 πάτερ μου; Mark 15:22 ἐπὶ τὸν Γολγοθᾶν τόπον, ὅ ἐστιν μεθερμηνευόμενον Κρανίου Τόπος | Luke 23:33 ἐπὶ τὸν τόπον τὸν καλούμενον Κρανίον | Matt 27:33 εἰς τόπον λεγόμενον Γολγοθᾶ, ὅ ἐστιν Κρανίου Τόπος λεγόμενος; Mark 15:34 ελωι ελωι λεμα σαβαχθανι, ὅ ἐστιν μεθερμηνευόμενον 208

209

D. Tradition and Redaction in Luke 8:40–56

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Greek audience, in this particular instance he may also have wished to avoid the magical overtones of these foreign (magic-sounding) words.214 An intriguing (but highly hypothetical) explanation of the absence of ταλιθα κουμ may be to link it to Luke’s known tendency to spare Markan expressions for later use in Acts.215 It is hardly a coincidence that in the parallel resuscitation story in Acts 9 Peter, after having dismissed the bystanders (ἐκβαλὼν δὲ ἔξω πάντας), raises a female disciple called Tabitha from death by the words, Ταβιθά, ἀνάστηθι (Acts 9:40). All in all, the entire verse is a Lukan rewriting of Mark with no indication that Luke had other source material at hand. Luke 8:55–56; Mark 5:42–43 Luke rules out (again, v. 53) the suggestion that the girl merely awoke from a sleep by commenting that “her (life-giving) spirit returned” (ἐπέστρεψεν τὸ πνεῦμα αὐτῆς),216 as a result of which “she arose immediately.” 217 The language recalls Elijah’s prayer for the revivification of the widow of Zarephath’s son in 1 Kings 17:21–22 LXX.218 Luke omits the demonstrative act of walking around (καὶ περιεπάτει). The Markan afterthought of the girl being twelve years of age has been used by Luke already in v. 41 and can now be skipped. From this point onwards Luke rearranges the Markan material drastically. Verse 56 is Luke’s reordering and rewriting of Mark 5:42c (καὶ ἐξέστησαν [εὐθὺς] ἐκστάσει μεγάλῃ) and 43a (καὶ διεστείλατο αὐτοῖς πολλὰ ἵνα μηδεὶς κτλ. | Luke no par. | Matt 27:46 ηλι ηλι λεμα σαβαχθανι, τοῦτ᾽ ἐστιν κτλ. 214   Bovon, Luc, 1:432; Pichon, Revivifications, 304. 215   E.g. the notion of seeing the Son of Man in Mark 14:62 (καὶ ὄψεσθε τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἐκ δεξιῶν καθήμενον τῆς δυνάμεως), not in Luke 22:69 (ἀπὸ τοῦ νῦν δὲ ἔσται ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου καθήμενος ἐκ δεξιῶν τῆς δυνάμεως τοῦ θεοῦ), but transposed to Acts 7:56 (ἰδοὺ θεωρῶ … τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἐκ δεξιῶν ἑστῶτα τοῦ θεοῦ); see on this particular example, Zwiep, Ascension, 147–149. See on this typical Lukan feature, Gijs Bouwman, “Le ‘premier livre’ (Act., I,1) et la date des Actes des Apôtres,” in L’Évangile de Luc – The Gospel of Luke, ed. Frans Neirynck (Leuven: Leuven University Press, Peeters, [1973] 21989), 559–560 (without subscribing to his view on the priority of Acts); Rudolf Pesch, Die Apostelgeschichte 1. Teilband: Apg 1–12, 2 vols., EKKNT 5 (Solothurn: Benziger; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1986, 21995), 1:24–25. 216  Walter Grundmann, Das Evangelium nach Lukas, THKNT 3 (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1961, 101984), 184: “πνεῦμα steht da, wo die Griechen ψυχή sagen; es ist nicht nur Lebenskraft, sondern Person.” 217   McComiskey, Lukan Theology, 254–255. 218   Καὶ ἐνεφύσησεν τῷ παιδαρίῳ τρὶς καὶ ἐπεκαλέσατο τὸν κύριον καὶ εἶπεν Κύριε ὁ θεός μου, ἐπιστραφήτω δὴ ἡ ψυχὴ τοῦ παιδαρίου τούτου εἰς αὐτόν. καὶ ἐγένετο οὕτως, καὶ ἀνεβόησεν τὸ παιδάριον. The terminology may also recall the recovery of Samson after a physical collapse (Judg 15:19 LXX: καὶ ἐπέστρεψεν τὸ πνεῦμα αὐτοῦ ἐν αὐτῷ), but the Elijah text is the more dominant intertext. Pichon, Revivifications, 329–330, takes Luke’s use of this idiom as an example of “plagiat,” which he defines as “une citation cachée, intégrée dans le texte citant mais en partie littérale” (cf. 20–21, 496, his italics).

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γνοῖ τοῦτο). Again a loose change of subject. Naturally, the (implied) subject of διέταξεν is Jesus, not the girl. Luke prefers the verb διατάσσω “to give (detailed) instructions as to what must be done” (BDAG 237) to Mark’s διαστέλλω “to define or express in no uncertain terms what one must do, order, give orders” (BDAG 236; the verb occurs 5x in Mark; 1x in Matt; 1x in Acts; 1x in Heb). The verb διατάσσω is a Lukan favourite (1x in Matt; 9x in Luke-Acts; 6x in the rest of the New Testament, 4 of which in 1 Cor).219 As elsewhere, Luke replaces Mark’s ἵνα with an infinitive.220 While Mark concludes with the somewhat trivial command to give the girl to eat, Luke rounds off the narrative with the more telling (though hopelessly unsuccessful) command not to tell anyone of what had happened (contrast Matt 9:26). The addressees of the command to silence (αὐτοῖς) are the girl’s parents.221 What about the disciples? Is this Luke’s subtle way to avoid the impression that the disciples were disobedient to his command? Or does he believe that they are the only appropriate messengers of what had happened?222 5. Preliminary Conclusions Finally, summarizing the conclusions that emerge from this survey of Luke’s redactional activities, Adolf Schlatter’s conclusion vis-à-vis Luke’s reworking of his Markan source – “An der Substanz der Erzählungen geht nichts verloren. Er spart nur die Worte und vermeidet nur Breiten” 223 – can now be said to be only partially true. Confirming the conclusions in the previous chapter (Chapter 3: Structure and Form) and anticipating on Chapter 6 (Story and Narrative), it can be concluded that by weaving the story meticulously into his wider (two-volume) narrative, Luke has brought the story to a new level: it has become an integral, organic part of his salvation  Denaux and Corstjens, Vocabulary of Luke, 155.   See the examples found in Cadbury, Style and Literary Method, 137. 221  Cf. Plummer, Luke, 238: “No such command was given at Nain or at Bethany. The object of it cannot have been to keep the miracle a secret. Many were outside expecting the funeral, and they would have to be told why no funeral was to take place…. It was given more probably for the parents’ sake, to keep them from letting the effect of this great blessing evaporate in vainglorious gossip.” Marshall, Luke, 342, thinks that Jesus’s command was “motivated by the Jewish scorn expressed in v. 53: such people were not fit recipients for his revelation of power.” Cf. Jakob van Bruggen, Lucas: het Evangelie als voorgeschiedenis, CNT derde serie (Kampen: Kok, 1993), 192: “Overigens is zo’n zwijggebod natuurlijk zinloos, omdat het herleven van het meisje voor zichzelf spreekt. De bedoeling is dan ook, dat het volk nu niet meer moet afdwalen naar allerlei mededelingen van de ouders over wat er binnenskamers precies gebeurde. Dat ‘kleine’ nieuws mag de aandacht niet afleiden van het grote: een gestorvene loopt levend rond nadat Jezus is gekomen.” 222   So Walter Schmithals, Das Evangelium nach Lukas, ZBK.NT 3/1 (Zurich: TVZ, 1980), 107: “Soll die Kundgabe den Aposteln vorbehalten werden, den maßgeblichen Zeugen Jesu (vgl. 1,1–4)?” 223   Schlatter, Lukas, 89. 219

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historical scheme, paradigmatic of God’s salvific work in Jesus (Luke) and his followers (Acts) and the accompanying role of faith. All in all, there is no compelling evidence to suggest that Luke had access to documentary sources other than Mark.

E. Conclusion In drawing this chapter to a close it can be readily observed that the results of this tradition- and redaction-critical analysis are largely negative: beyond the gospel of Mark, no other written sources can be detected that influenced Matthew and Luke in their versions of the story.224 We found massive evidence that both Matthew and Luke had a relatively stable text at their disposal. Although theoretically this need not necessarily be a written text (after all, oral tradition can be highly stable as well), all the evidence points to Matthew’s and Luke’s knowledge of the Markan episode, i.e. all the phenomena can be satisfactorily explained in terms of Matthaean and Lukan literary dependency on Mark.225 Since it is unlikely that both evangelists worked from the same physical copy, we must reckon with the effect of mutual contamination in the process of transmission. This does, however, not undermine our basic conviction of a literary relationship between the three gospel narratives. In this respect, this investigation is a firm corroboration of the classical Two-Source hypothesis, especially with regard to Markan priority. However, as we will see in the next chapter, studies in orality and performance criticism will force us to (re)consider some of the basic presuppositions of literary studies and the degree of certitude that we demand from hypothetical reconstructions. This wider perspective is the only way to proceed if we want to probe the history of origins of the text. Based on our analysis in this chapter, we may now come to the following tentative conclusions. First, Mark was not the first to tell the story of the haemorrhaging woman (Mark 5:25–34), and probably not the first to tell the Jairus story (Mark 224   So also inter alios Schürmann, Lukasevangelium, 1:497: “Hinter de luk Redaktion von 8,40–56 wird nur die Mk-Vorlage sichtbar”; Schramm, Markus-Stoff, 127 (overly cautious): “Einfluß einer Traditionsvariante wenig wahrscheinlich”; Marshall, Luke, 341; Nolland, Luke, 1:416: “Luke has only had his Markan source, which he does not seriously alter beyond his usual degree of reexpression”; Bovon, Luc 1:431: “L’influence de Marc est tellement dominant et indiscutable dans cette péricope que, malgré quelques similitudes mineures avec Matthieu, on peut affirmer que Luc n’a pas eu d’autre source à sa disposition”; Pichon, Revivifications, 287 [contra Pierre Benoit and Marie-Émile Boismard, Synopse des quatre Évangiles en français, 3 vols. (Paris: Cerf, 1972), 2:208–211]. 225  Contra John M. Rist, On the Independence of Matthew and Mark, SNTSMS 32 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978), 58–60.

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5:21–24, 35–43). Whether he was the first to combine the two stories into an integrated whole226 or found the full story already in its current setup, at this point is difficult to establish without speculation. Second, Matthew’s and Luke’s versions can be explained to a high degree with the help of current theories of literary dependence. We have not found compelling evidence that they had access to other written source material beyond Mark. 227 There is, however, still the possibility (if not likelihood) that Matthew and Luke each worked from a different version of the current text of Mark, either in terms of a proto-Markan theory (Delbert Burkett) or the theory of a (later) deutero-Markan recension (Ulrich Luz, Albert Fuchs). 228 In the next chapter on orality studies and performance criticism we will need to come back on this. Third, recognizing the need for a broader perspective, it is likely that the study of oral tradition will add new insights that could undermine the exclusivist focus on scribality as exemplified in this chapter. Finally, if we may compare the editorial changes of Matthew and Luke to moving pieces on a chessboard, it can be said that Matthew has removed pieces from the chessboard (“less is more”), whereas Luke has rearranged them. Of all three, Luke’s is the most “writerly” version, and in linguistic terms, the most versatile of the three.229 In the next chapter we will approach the synoptic episodes from a completely different angle, i.e. from the perspective of orality studies and performance criticism.

  So, e.g., Trocmé, Marc, 147: “la combinaison de ces deux épisodes est rédactionnelle.”   Contra Bernhard Weiss, Die Quellen des Lukasevangeliums (Stuttgart: Cotta, 1907), 173–179, who argued quite emphatically that Matthew and Luke had access to a version of Q in which the resuscitation and the healing were reported at some point before Matt 11:5 | Luke 7:22 (174). Weiss suggested Luke’s version was a conflation of Q and Mark. See also Weiss, Das Matthäus-Evangelium, KEK 1/1 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 71883, 91898), 187–191; Ernst Lohmeyer, Das Evangelium des Matthäus: Nachgelassene Ausarbeitungen und Entwürfe zur Übersetzung und Erklärung, ed. Werner Schmauch, KEK Sonderband (Göttingen: Vandenhoek & Ruprecht, 1956, 41967), 176 (Matthew’s account “ein unabhängiger Doppelbericht zu Mk 5,21–43 … nach eigener Überlieferung … ein Parallelbericht”); Walter Grundmann, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus, THKNT 1 (Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1968, 21971), 274. 228  Cf. Klein, Lukasevangelium, 322: “Die M[inor ]A[greements] zeigen an, daß Lk ein durchgesehenes Mk-Exemplar vorlag.” 229  Following Hogeterp and Denaux, Semitisms. 226 227

Chapter 5

Orality and Performance A. Introduction In the previous chapters of this work we have investigated the synoptic texts about Jairus’s daughter and the haemorrhaging woman (Mark 5:21–43; Matt 9:18–26; Luke 8:40–56) from a purely literary, text-bound perspective: the texts were treated as physical artefacts, documents from the past that are open to immediate investigation, allowing a comparison in excessive exegetical detail and with the benefit of constantly testing the evidence in front of us, on our desk, so to speak.1 In other words, we treated them as products of scribality. With all due reservations and provisos, we concluded, first, that the agreements and differences between the three synoptic versions can be explained quite satisfactorily on the basis of commonly accepted theories of literary relationships (Mark as the common source of both Matthew and Luke, although alternative solutions to the Synoptic problem can be invoked with similar results), and, second, that Mark was probably not the first to tell the story/stories of Jairus’s daughter and the haemorrhaging woman. We then cautiously suggested (but no more than that) that the story may have had a basis in Aramaic, given the explicit quotation of Aramaic in v. 41 (ταλιθα κουμ) and the possible presence of subtle puns that would make sense in an Aramaic context but not in Greek, such as the double entendre of the name Jairus, ‫“( יאיר‬he enlightens”) and/or ‫“( יעיר‬he arouses, awakens”) (BDAG 464), so much appreciated by some church fathers and mediaeval theologians, 2 and the wordplay of ‫( טליתא‬ṭalěyětā) and ‫( טלית‬ṭalliyt) underlying Mark 5:27, 41 (See above, Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction). 1   An earlier draft of this chapter has been presented as “Orality and Memory in the Story of Jairus and the Haemorrhaging Woman: An Attempt (Not) to Go Behind What Is Written,” at the SNTS Seminar on Memory, Narrative and Christology in the Synoptic Gospels, at the 71st General Meeting in Montreal, 4 August, 2016, with special thanks for the input by Jens Schröter (Berlin), Sandra Hübenthal (Passau), David P. Moessner (Fort Worth, TX), and Craig Keener (Asbury). See also Arie W. Zwiep, “Traditie, oraliteit en schriftelijkheid in de perikoop Haemorrhoisa et filia Jairi (Mar. 5:21–43 parr.): Een tussentijdse bestandopname,” KeTh 69 (2018): 239–254. 2   Cf. Rudolf Pesch, Das Markusevangelium 1. Teil: Einleitung und Kommentar zu Kap. 1,18,26, HThKNT 2 (Freiburg: Herder, 1976, 41984), 300. This has been picked up by some church fathers, see above, Chapter 1: History and Research.

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However, it is now time to acknowledge the severe limitations and risky one-sidedness of the line of research followed up to now. Experts in orality studies and performance criticism have rightly alerted biblical scholarship to the fact that communication from text to eye has a quite different dynamic than communication from mouth to ear.3 There can be little doubt that most people in the first century heard the words of the gospels rather than read them, be it for the reason that most people could not read (or could not read enough) or because copies were simply not available in their communities.4 The stories, then, were normally read aloud by a lector from a scroll and heard by an audience.5 Whether this means that the text was memorized by heart by the person in charge of the reading-performance or that s/he only made special preparations for the upcoming public reading need not detain us for the moment.6 What stands out is that the communicative process – even in the presence of a hardcopy – involved much more than the simple “reading” (decoding) of the words of the text. Orality is not an extra element to be brought into play after the literary-critical analysis has been done, it is a completely different approach that requires a mental turn, at least so runs the argument of Walter Ong and Werner Kelber,7 to name but two prominent   E.g., the work of Walter Ong and Werner Kelber. See below.   On the varying levels of literacy (and the problem of its definition) in the Mediterranean world and esp. first-century Palestine, see William V. Harris, Ancient Literacy (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1989), including a bibliography (339–369); John Baines, “Literacy (ANE),” ABD 4 (1992): 333–337; Alan Ralph Millard, “Literacy (Israel),” ABD 4 (1992): 337–340; Meir Bar-Ilan, “Illiteracy in the Land of Israel in the First Centuries CE,” in vol. 2 of Essays in the Social Scientific Study of Judaism and Jewish Society, ed. Simcha Fishbane, Stuart Schoenfield, and Alain Goldschlaeger (New York: Ktav, 1992), 46–61; Harry Y. Gamble, Books and Readers in the Early Church: A History of Early Christian Texts (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995), 2–10; Catherine Hezser, Jewish Literacy in Roman Palestine, TSAJ 81 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001); Rafael Rodríguez, “Reading and Hearing in Ancient Contexts,” JSNT 32 (2009): 154–161 (“Literacy” and “Orality”); Chris Keith, Jesus’ Literacy: Scribal Culture and the Teacher from Galilee, LNTS 413; LHJS 8 (London: T&T Clark, 2011); Brian J. Wright, “Ancient Literacy in New Testament Research: Incorporating a Few More Lines of Enquiry,” TJ 36 (2015): 161–189; idem, Communal Reading in the Time of Jesus: A Window into Early Christian Reading Practices (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2017). 5  Cf. Eric Eve, Behind the Gospels: Understanding the Oral Tradition (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2014), 8–13. 6   I think here in particular of the recent debate between Larry Hurtado and Kelly Iverson in New Testament Studies. See Larry W. Hurtado, “Oral Fixation and New Testament Studies? ‘Orality,’ ‘Performance’ and Reading Texts in Early Christianity,” NTS 60 (2014): 321–340; Kelly R. Iverson, “Oral Fixation or Oral Corrective? A Response to Larry Hurtado,” NTS 62 (2016): 183–200; Hurtado, “Correcting Iverson’s ‘Correction’,” NTS 62 (2016): 201–206. See also Hurtado, The Destroyer of the Gods: Early Christian Distinctiveness in the Roman World (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2016), 105–141 (A “Bookish” Religion). 7  Walter J. Ong, Rhetoric, Romance, and Technology: Studies in the Interaction of Expression and Culture (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1971); idem, Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word, NewAcc (Thirtieth Anniversary Edition with Additional 3

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orality scholars who are convinced that the focus on orality demands a paradigm shift, or, as James Dunn put it more cautiously, requires an alteration of the “default setting.” 8 The conclusion that Mark received the story from tradition is not only significant for our understanding of the growth of the gospel tradition – the written trajectory, I mean – it also encourages us to probe behind the stories in search for oral stages of transmission. Had we come to the conclusion that the entire Markan episode was a free creation of the author – in itself of course entirely possible: authors (both ancient and modern) are completely free to commit to writing whatever they like – then the quest for preliterary and literary traditions before the stories found their way in the present gospels would certainly lose its sense. However, if the conclusions of the previous chapters can stand the critical test, our textual analysis has at least not excluded the possibility of prior material available to Mark, yes, seems to sharpen the quest for determining the nature and content of the material in view. While earlier scholars have argued for a pre-Markan literary cycle of miracle stories,9 in what follows I will apply insights of orality and performance studies to our pericope to see if they provide additional evidence for establishing the contours of its prehistory more accurately. This, in turn, may be helpful to reduce the “ugly ditch” between the early Jesus-tradition in the 30s and its first written testimonies around 70 CE, or at least it will hopefully provide more insight into its width. It should be clear, though, that my first and foremost concern in this chapter is the understanding of the Chapters by John Hartley; London: Routledge, 1982, 32012); idem (posthumous), Language as Hermeneutics: A Primer on the Word and Digitization, ed. Thomas D. Zlatic and Sara van den Berg (Itaca: Cornell University Press, 2017); Werner H. Kelber, The Oral and the Written Gospel: The Hermeneutics of Speaking and Writing in the Synoptic Tradition, Mark, Paul, and Q, VPT (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, [1983] 21997); idem, “Oral Tradition (NT),” ABD 5 (1992): 30–34; idem, “The Case of the Gospels: Memory’s Desire and the Limits of Historical Criticism,” OrTrad 17 (2002): 55–86; idem, “Rethinking the Oral-Scribal Transmission/Performance of the Jesus Tradition,” in Jesus Research: New Methodologies and Perceptions, The Second Princeton-Prague Symposium on Jesus Research 2007, ed. James H. Charlesworth, with Brian Rhea and Petr Pokorný (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2014), 500–530. 8   James D.G. Dunn, “Altering the Default Setting: Re-envisaging the Early Transmission of the Jesus Tradition,” NTS 49 (2003): 139–175; repr. in idem, The Oral Gospel Tradition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2013), 41–79. “Paradigm shift” is taken here in the more or less Kuhnian sense of the term. See Thomas S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1962, 31996). 9   E.g., in the work of Heinz-Wolfgang Kuhn, Ältere Sammlungen im Markusevangelium, SUNT 8 (Göttingen: Vanden­hoeck & Ruprecht, 1971); Paul J. Achtemeier, “Toward the Isolation of Pre-Markan Miracle Catenae,” JBL 89 (1970): 265–291; repr. in Jesus and the Miracle Tradition (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2008), 55–86; idem, “The Origin and Function of the Pre-Markan Miracle Catenae,” JBL 91 (1972): 198–221; repr. in Jesus and the Miracle Tradition, 87–116; Pesch, Markusevangelium, 1:63–68. See also above, “The Question of Sources,” in Chapter 1: History and Research.

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pericope of Mark 5 and its possible prehistory in the light of orality studies, not the theoretical and broader underlying issues per se. I will first say a few words on the notion of memory and determine whether this is a helpful category for the present purpose (B). Second, I will turn to what is nowadays called performance criticism to see if this new and promising discipline can bring us any further in the search for pre-Synoptic oral tradition (C). Third, I will turn to our synoptic pericopes and introduce the quest for (pre-Synoptic) orality on what I hope is a fair methodological foundation (D). Fourth, I will present a tentative list of orality markers based on the work of prominent orality scholars supplemented with observations of my own and engage in an examination of Mark 5:21–43 and parr. to see if they are applicable in this particular case (E). Finally, I will draw conclusions and position them in the larger context of this study (F).10

B. Memory, Orality and Scribality First, then, some reflections on the notion of memory.11 The study of orality, scribality and literacy is part of a larger debate on memory, both individual, 10   In this chapter, I use the terms “scribality” and “literacy” interchangeably, although strictly speaking they are not synonyms. See Pieter J.J. Botha, Orality and Literacy in Early Christianity, BPC 5 (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2012), 10–15. 11  For a helpful and instructive survey of the semantic domain of memory in the New Testament, see L&N 1:346–349, under the entry “Memory and Recall” (nos. 29.1–18). See also Karl-Heinz Bartels, “Gedenken,” TBLNT 1:454–459; idem, “Remember, Remembrance,” NIDNTT 3:230–247 (limited to μιμνήσκομαι and its associated word group). Recent studies in orality and the New Testament include Alan Kirk and Tom Thatcher, eds., Memory, Tradition, and Text: Uses of the Past in Early Christianity, Semeia 52 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2005); Werner H. Kelber, “The Generative Force of Memory: Early Christian Traditions as Processes of Remembering,” BTB 36 (2006): 15–22; Stephen Barton, Loren T. Stuckenbruck, and Benjamin G. Wold, eds., Memory in the Bible and Antiquity: The Fifth Durham-Tübingen Research Symposium, WUNT 212 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007); Dennis C. Duling, “Memory, Collective Memory, Orality and the Gospels,” HvTSt 67 (2011): 103–113; DOI: 10.4102/hts.v67i1.915; Ritva Williams, “BTB Readers’ Guide: Social Memory,” BTB 41 (2011): 189–200; Michael F. Bird, The Gospel of the Lord: How the Early Church Wrote the Story of Jesus (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2014); Alan Kirk, “Cognition, Commemoration, and Tradition: Memory and the Historiography of Jesus Research,” EarlyChrist 6 (2015): 285–310; Eric Eve, “Memory, Orality and the Synoptic Problem,” EarlyChrist 6 (2015): 311–333; idem, “Orality Is No Dead-End,” JSHJ 13 (2015): 3–23; Chris Keith, “Social Memory Theory and Gospel Research: The First Decade,” EarlyChrist 6 (2015): 354–376 (Part One); 517–542 (Part Two); Alan Kirk, “Ehrman, Bauckham and Bird on Memory and the Jesus Tradition,” JSHJ 15 (2017): 88–114; Jens Schröter, “Der ‘erinnerte Jesus’: Erinnerung als geschichtshermeneutisches Paradigma der Jesusforschung,” in Jesus Handbuch, ed. Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017), 112–124; Nicholas A. Elder, “New Testament Media Criticism,” CurBR 15 (2017): 315–337.

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social and cultural memory, that is.12 People tell stories and write books to keep memory alive and exploit lessons from the past for the present, aiming at, as Paul Ricoeur puts it, “la conquête de la distance temporelle”13 and the formation of (individual and communal) identity.14 The first tellers of the story of Jesus were no exception. They did not tell their stories for the sake of pure history (the nuda facta, the “raw data”), but they treasured the past to make sense of the community’s present situation and to situate themselves (cf. Luke 1:1–4; John 20:30–31). This, of course, makes the study of memory highly relevant for historical Jesus research, gospel studies and reception history from the outset.15 It is appropriate here to make some clarifying comments on the notion of “memory” and provide my working definitions of the terms involved. While I do not want to downplay the theoretical and hermeneutical complexities of memory theory,16 I take the notion of (oral and written) memory – at least for the approach taken in this chapter – as roughly coinciding with Eco’s notion of the shared “encyclopedia” of author and model reader.17 While the distinction between individual memory (individual acts of remembering) and collective memory (group memory) may be helpful, I do not take it as an absolute 12   For the larger philosophical and hermeneutical questions, see Maurice Halbwachs, On Collective Memory, ed. and trans. and with an Introduction by Lewis A. Coser, The Heritage of Sociology (Chicago: Chicago University Press, [1952, 1941] 1992); Edward S. Casey, Remembering: A Phenomenological Study, SCTh (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1987, 22000), and esp. Paul Ricoeur, La mémoire, l’histoire, l’oubli, Points Essais 494 (Paris: Seuil, 2000). 13   Ricoeur, La mémoire, 30. 14  Paul Ricoeur, Soi-même comme un autre, Points 330 (Paris: Seuil, 1990). 15  See Dale C. Allison, Constructing Jesus: Memory, Imagination, and History (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2010), 1–30, for a well-informed discussion of memory studies in relation to historical Jesus research. See also Geert van Oyen, “No Performance Criticism without Narrative Criticism: Performance as a Test of Interpretation,” in Communication, Pedagogy, and the Gospel of Mark, ed. Elizabeth E. Shively and Geert van Oyen, RBS 83 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2016), 107–128, in a very helpful volume for teachers and researchers in biblical studies. 16  Cf. Astrid Erll, “Cultural Memory Studies: An Introduction,” in Cultural Memory Studies: An International and Interdisciplinary Handbook, MedCM 8, ed. Astrid Erll and Ansgar Nünning, in collaboration with Sara B. Young (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2008), 1–18; Karin Schöpflin, Samuel Byrskog et al. “Gedächtnis,” in LBH, 194–197; and further esp. Maurice Halbwachs, Les cadres sociaux de la mémoire (Paris: Acan, 1925; reprint: Postface de Gérard Namer. BEH 8. Paris: Albin Michel, 1994); idem, La topographie légendaire des évangiles en Terre sainte: Étude de mémoire collective. Édition préparée par Marie Jaisson, avec des contributions de Danièlle Hervieu-Léger, Jean-Pierre Cléo, Sarah Gensburger et Éric Brian, Bibliothèque de sociologie moderne. Édition Quadrige (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, [1941] 21971, 2008); idem, La mémoire collective. Édition critique établie par Gérard Namer, préparée avec la collaboration de Marie Jaisson, BEH 28 (Paris: Albin Michel, [1950] 21997). 17  Umberto Eco, Lector in fabula: La cooperazione interpretativa nei testi narrativi, TBomp 27 (Milan: Bompiani, 1979, 112010); idem, The Role of the Reader: Explorations in the Semiotics of Texts. AdvSem (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1979; FMB Edition 1984).

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distinction.18 A more fruitful distinction is that between cultural memory and social memory (e.g. Jan Assmann). Recently this has been taken up by Sandra Hübenthal in various publications.19 While I find her work very helpful in coming to grips with the act of reading and its identity-forming potential (how it is remembered), my present research question differs in that it focuses not on reader reception but on the historicalcritical question of the genesis of this particular story (what is remembered). While all this remains admittedly highly speculative, I do consider this an important and legitimate question to be posed. The distinction between social memory and collective memory, though, seems open to a wider application. At the risk of oversimplifying complex definitions, I understand cultural memory as memory (i.e. constructed knowledge) of the remote past, the past understood as a given tradition or culture (long-term), e.g. the Creation myths, Israel’s Exodus traditions, Babylonian captivity, the Maccabean revolt, and so on, and social memory as memory of a given social group in the more recent past (3 to 4 generations, cf. Assmann, Hübenthal), e.g. (constructed knowledge of) the early Christian community, its internal and external conf licts, its social and religious practices, its interpretive strategies and so on. This comes close to what Craig Keener calls “communal memory.” 20 If we apply these distinctions to the present investigation, the cultural memory of Mark and his model readers can be said to consist of such diverse features as the authoritative and identity-shaping role of scripture, the defining role of the faith community, purity regulations, monotheism, covenant, temple and other such traditional “identity-markers,” God as the healer of his people, notions of sin, forgiveness, salvation, perspectives of life and death and the hereafter, and so on and so forth. Suchlike features can be said to be so deeply embedded in the community’s memory that they can be “preunderstood,” or taken for granted, even if there seems to be no conscious ref lection of them. Mark’s and the model reader’s social memory may include the role attributed to Jesus as messianic agent (Son of God and/or Christ, miracle-worker, teacher, sage etc.), the memory of his death, the resurrection kerygma, the early Christian community and its mission, its practices and beliefs, and so on.

18   Cf. Paul Ricoeur, La mémoire, l’histoire, l’oubli, Points Essais 494 (Paris: Seuil, 2000), 112–163, asking whether “[e]ntre les deux pôles de la mémoire individuelle et de la mémoire collective, n’existe-t-il pas un plan intermédiaire de référence où s’opèrent concrètement les échanges entre la mémoire vive des personnes individuelles et la mémoire publique des communautés auxquelles nous appartenons? ... Les proches, ces gens qui comptent pour nous et pour qui nous comptons sont situés sur une gamme de variation des distances dans le rapport entre le soi et les autres” (161). And: “Ce n’est donc pas avec la seule hypothèse de la polarité entre mémoire individuelle et mémoire collective qu’il faut entrer dans le champ de l’histoire, mais avec celle d’une triple attribution de la mémoire: à soi, aux proches, aux autres” (163). 19   E.g. Sandra Hübenthal, Das Markusevangelium als kollektives Gedächtnis, FRLANT 253 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2014); idem, “Another Jesus Remembered: Reading Luke’s Narration through a Memory-Theory-Lens,” SNTS Seminar on Memory, Narrative and Christology in the Synoptic Gospels, at the 71st General Meeting in Montreal, 5 August, 2016. 20   Craig S. Keener, “Before Biographies: Memory and Oral Tradition,” in Biographies and Jesus: What Does It Mean for the Gospels to be Biographies?, ed. Craig S. Keener and Edward T. Wright (Lexington, KY: Emeth, 2016), 329–354.

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1. A Lack of Scholarly Consensus Unfortunately, there is no scholarly consensus on the role and nature of memory, memorization and so on. Experts are strongly divided. While Birger Gerhardsson makes much of the fact that Jesus was a teacher and hence must have had a fixed teaching programme and teaching techniques (memorization) to ensure his teachings were delivered with a high measure of success, 21 and Richard Bauckham strongly emphasizes the (reliable) role of eyewitnesses in the traditioning process, 22 John Dominic Crossan speaks 21  Birger Gerhardsson, Memory and Manuscript: Oral Tradition and Written Transmission in Rabbinic Judaism and Early Christianity with Tradition and Transmission in Early Christianity, BRS (Combined Edition; Foreword by Jacob Neusner; trans. Eric J. Sharpe; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, [1961/1964] 1998). Also idem, The Origins of the Gospel Tradition (London: SCM, 1979), and The Gospel Tradition (Lund: Gleerup, 1986), both repr. in The Reliability of the Gospel Tradition (Foreword by Donald A. Hagner; Peabody, MA: Hendrickson; Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2001); idem, “The Secret of the Transmission of the Unwritten Jesus Tradition,” NTS 51 (2005): 1–18. In Memory and Manuscript Gerhardsson posited: “When the Evangelists edited their Gospels, they did not take their traditions from these forms of activities [such as preaching and teaching and so on, az]. They worked on a basis of a fixed, distinct tradition from, and about, Jesus – a tradition which was partly memorized and partly written down in notebooks and private scrolls, but invariably isolated from the teachings of other doctrinal authorities” (335). Cf. in the line of Gerhardsson, Rainer Riesner, Jesus als Lehrer: Eine Untersuchung zum Ursprung der Evangelien-Überlieferung, WUNT 2/7 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1981, 31988); Samuel Byrskog, Jesus the Only Teacher: Didactic Authority and Transmission in Ancient Israel, Ancient Judaism and the Matthean Community, ConBNT 24 (Stockholm: Almquist & Wiksell International, 1994); idem, Story as History – History as Story, WUNT 123 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2000). A more rigorous theory of verbatim memorization has been advanced by Armin Baum as a solution to the Synoptic problem, defending an oral gospel hypothesis (“Matthew and Luke drew their common Markan material from the same oral source as Mark had done before them,” 413). See Armin D. Baum, Der mündliche Faktor und seine Bedeutung für die synoptische Frage: Analogien aus der antiken Literatur, der Experimentalpsychologie, der Oral PoetryForschung und dem rabbinischen Traditionswesen, TANZ 49 (Tübingen: Francke, 2008); idem, “Matthew’s Sources – Written or Oral? A Rabbinic Analogy and Empirical Insights,” in Built upon the Rock: Studies in the Gospel of Matthew, ed. Daniel M. Gurtner and John Nolland (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2008), 1–23. Cf. also Travis M. Derico, Oral Tradition and Synoptic Verbal Agreement: Evaluating the Empirical Evidence for Literary Dependence (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2016). Alan Kirk, “Orality, Writing, and Phantom Sources: Appeals to Ancient Media in Some Recent Challenges to the Two Document Hypothesis,” NTS 58 (2012): 3–11, has objected that Baum confounds “oral tradition” and “memory activity” and projects the properties of a written medium on an oral gospel. In my view, Baum’s thesis fails to carry conviction because he fails to interact with the data on an exegetical (non-theoretical and nonabstract) level and thus plays down the editorial work of the individual gospel writers. Matthew and Luke were no simple “Abschreiber” (copyists) of a Markan original, they were “authors.” 22   Richard J. Bauckham, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses: The Gospels as Eyewitness Testimony (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006, 22017); idem, “Gospel Traditions: Anonymous Community Traditions or Eyewitness Testimony?,” in Charlesworth, Jesus Research, 483–499.

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somewhat disparagingly of “the mystique of oral tradition” 23 and describes various situations in which fact has become non-fact, fiction has become fact, and non-fact fact, 24 only to conclude that “experiments agree in warning us that memory is much less accurate than we think and that it may be least accurate when it is most secure.” 25 In his recent contribution to the orality and memory debate, Bart Ehrman argues that most of the gospel stories reflect distorted, historically inaccurate and patently false memories, more intent on the needs of the present than on historical realities.26 If current scholarship is to learn one thing from this methodological disarray, it is that the subject of memory cannot and should not be approached from a single (monolithic) perspective to the neglect of other perspectives. Since Jesus is clearly remembered in the gospel tradition as a teacher, Gerhardsson’s approach may well be applicable to some texts (but not necessarily all); and since it is historically most unlikely that the gospel stories 23   John Dominic Crossan, The Birth of Christianity: Discovering What Happened in the Years Immediately after the Execution of Jesus (New York: HarperCollins, 1998; Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1999), 47–89 (“Memory and Orality”). 24   Crossan, Birth of Christianity, 60–67. 25   Crossan, Birth of Christianity, 84; his italics. 26   Bart D. Ehrman, Jesus Before the Gospels: How the Earliest Christians Remembered, Changed, and Invented Their Stories of the Savior (New York: HarperCollins, 2016). Ehrman repeatedly and emphatically points to the unreliability and fallibility of oral transmission and its distancing effects: Ehrman, Jesus before the Gospels, 2–3: “This (= the period between Jesus’s death and the composition of the gospels) was a mysterious period of oral transmission, when stories were circulating, both among eyewitnesses and, even more, among those who knew someone whose cousin had a neighbor who had once talked with a business associate whose mother had, just fifteen years earlier, spoken with an eyewitness who told her some things about Jesus. (...) They are memories of memories of memories.” A similar suggestive line of reasoning can be found on the next page: “[Misremembering things] happens to all of us. And it has happened to everyone who has ever lived. Including the followers of Jesus. Including the ones who told stories about him. Including the ones who heard those stories and then passed them along to others. Including the ones who heard these thirdhand stories and told them then to others, who told them to others, who then wrote the Gospels.” (4) And on page 11: “Is it possible that stories were told by people who knew people who knew people who knew people who claimed that they heard stories from people who knew people who knew eyewitnesses?” (one more on page 143). The tacit assumptions that seem to underlie such a scenario of an “indirect information flow” (e.g. the assumption of a linear chain of deteriorating transmission from A to Z, based on the “loose analogy” of the popular children’s rumour game), have been criticized by sociologist Barry Schwartz, “Christian Origins: Historical Truth and Social Memory,” in Kirk and Thatcher, Memory, Tradition, and Text, 51–54, in response to similar claims in the work of John Dominic Crossan, Norman Perrin and Bruce Malina. Schwartz proposes “that we be aware of the cost of rejecting evidence of which we cannot be totally certain, that uncertain conclusions may bring more net benefit than a studied determination not to reach any conclusion at all – or a determination to believe, aside from cynical claims abut the invention of the past, that there is no conclusion to be reached” (54). On memory distortion, see also Zeba Crook, “Matthew, Memory Theory and the New No Quest,” HvTSt 70 (2014): 11pp. DOI: 10.4102/hts.v70i.2716.

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suddenly popped up in the complete absence of eyewitnesses, Bauckham’s argument may be useful to make sense of some strands in the tradition (but again, not necessarily all). But then again, when both Crossan and Ehrman highlight the systematic unreliability of memory, there seems to be no cogent argument to apply this to the tradition in toto and indiscriminately, without a proper consideration of the actual texts themselves, especially so since the gospel materials have been transmitted on purpose, consciously, as one may presume. In his recent study on the oral tradition behind the gospels, Eric Eve has given what I consider a fair definition of what memory is and is not and what it can and cannot realize: [A] memory is not a photographic record of what actually took place, but a construction based on the original encoding of experience, the relating of that experience to oneself and others according to narrative frameworks and conventions supplied by one’s cultural context, and the need to make sense of the past in the light of the present, and of the present in the light of the past. This does not mean that memory is radically unreliable; clearly for most everyday purposes it is anything but that; but it does mean that what is remembered cannot straightforwardly be equated with what actually happened. 27

With such a broad and flexible understanding of what memory is (probably acceptable to all players in the field), the notion of memory can only function as an alert, an exegetical or hermeneutical cautionary note to avoid high expectations and unrealistic promises, not as an analytical tool or a measuring stick. Ricoeur holds that the tendency to zoom in on the weaknesses and errors of memory is not very fruitful for understanding the phenomenon as such, 28 and argues for taking memory seriously, accepting both its “us et abus.” 29 But since the gospel material at hand gives rise to such diverse 27   Eve, Behind the Gospels, 181. Also: “[I]ndividual memory (insofar as it can be distinguished from social aspects of memory) is both generally reliable and capable of being seriously misleading” (178). 28   Ricoeur, La mémoire, 25. 29   Ricoeur, La mémoire, 67–111. Cf. also Jens Schröter’s discussion on memory, history and representation of the past in his “Geschichte im Licht von Tod und Auferweckung Jesu Christi: Anmerkungen zum Diskurs über Erinnerung und Geschichte aus frühchristlicher Perspektive,” in Von Jesus zum Neuen Testament: Studien zur urchristlichen Theologiegeschichte und zur Entstehung des neutestamentlichen Kanons, WUNT 204 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), 55–77. While fully recognizing the constructive nature of memory and history writing, he sides more with Ricoeur’s positive-constructive appraisal of memory than with Johannes Fried’s “Anfangsverdacht gegen Erinnerungszeugnisse” (63). Schröter argues that Ricoeur offers a theoretical model that manages to keep a distinction between fact and fiction (64–67) and fully acknowledges the role of inconvenient memories: “Diese Theorie erlaubt es, zwischen solche Erinnerungen, die durch tatsächliche Dinge und Ereignisse verursacht sind, und Illusionen zu unterscheiden. Sie ermöglicht damit eine Theorie der Anwesenheit des abwesenden Vorzeitigen und kann trügerische Formen der Mimesis als Missbräuche oder Verirrungen des Gedächtnisses hiervon abgrenzen” (67).

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and conflictive assessments, and much theorizing suffers from unwarranted generalizations, the only way to get out of the fully reliable-completely unreliable dilemma is to turn to the specific material at hand. Memory is too confused and too general a term to be of help and for the present purpose not very productive. On all accounts, to weigh the quality of the memories in question they need to be examined not only from an overall theoretical perspective and in view of possible analogies but also on a case-by-case basis.30 2. A Brief Intermezzo on a Distorted Memory In Jesus before the Gospels Bart Ehrman recalls a personal memory immediately relevant to our investigation, too intriguing to be left unmentioned. When Ehrman was still a student at Princeton, the famous Harald Riesenfeld came by and held a lecture there on the gospels. At breakfast next morning the young Ehrman had the opportunity to converse with Riesenfeld in person and, by hindsight unsurprisingly, they came to discuss the Synoptic problem, and the variant versions of the story of Jairus and the haemorrhaging woman in particular. This is what Ehrman recalls: Since he [Riesenfeld] was convinced that the stories about Jesus were memorized by his followers, he believed Matthew and Mark were describing two different occasions on which Jesus talked with Jairus and brought his daughter back to life. The first time Jairus came to Jesus before the girl had died. The next time it happened, she had died already. Jesus raised her from the dead twice.31

But there is reason to doubt the accuracy of this memory. Did Riesenfeld really believe that Jesus raised her twice? This would, to my knowledge, be a novelty in the history of interpretation: two different persons restored to life on two different occasions, yes. That has been a popular way to harmonize the two conflicting versions from the start. But one person raised to life on two different occasions? The average harmonizer would consider Jesus’s apparent inability to perform the resurrection miracle at one stroke a stain on his reputation and difficult to square with belief in his divine Sonship.32 Now, I have not been able to confirm this bizarre idea in Riesenfeld’s published work.33 Perhaps he believed that Jairus went twice to Jesus and raised the girl once, and perhaps this was misunderstood by Ehrman (already back  Contra Baum, Der mündliche Faktor.   Ehrman, Jesus before the Gospels, 69–70. 32   This, to be sure, is a different situation than the initially unsuccessful healing of the blind man at Bethsaida (Mark 8:22–26), where the cure in two steps is part of a conscious rhetorical strategy. See the commentaries ad loc. 33   E.g., Harald Riesenfeld, The Gospel Tradition: Essays (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1970), and his earlier The Gospel Tradition and Its Beginnings: A Study in the Limits of “Formgeschichte” (London: Mowbray, 1957); idem, “Reflections on the Unity of the New Testament,” Religion 3 (1973): 35–51. 30 31

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then or recently?). Or maybe Riesenfeld simply did not realize what he said. Or was he perhaps bored or irritated by the inquisitive young student at that early time of the day? Did Riesenfeld perhaps say this tongue-in-cheek? (unlikely, as I understand from people who knew him). At any rate, this example demonstrates how tricky and ambivalent the notion of memory can be, and how little is won when it is used indiscriminately and in abstracto. It often raises more questions than that it solves.

C. Performance Criticism More helpful, perhaps, is the contribution of performance criticism, the study of how oral and written compositions were performed in public.34 It was already observed above that communication from text to eye has a different dynamic than communication from mouth to ear. When the gospel writers composed their works, they must have anticipated that their works would be read aloud by a reader in a (formal or informal) community setting rather than be read silently by an individual in the privacy of a home.35 34   E.g., John Miles Foley, The Singer of Tales in Performance, VPT 1 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1995); David M. Rhoads, “Performance Criticism: An Emerging Methodology in Second Testament Studies,” BTB 36 (2006): 118–133 (Part I), 164–184 (Part II); idem, “Biblical Performance Criticism: Performance as Research,” OrTrad 25 (2010): 157–198; Whitney Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel: First-Century Performance of Mark (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 2003); William David Shiell, Reading Acts: The Lector and the Early Christian Audience, BibInt 70 (Leiden: Brill Academic, 2004), and the Biblical Performance Criticism (BPC) book series edited by Rhoads (published by Cascade Books), esp. Holly E. Hearon and Philip Ruge-Jones, eds., The Bible in Ancient and Modern Media: Story and Performance, BPC 1 (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2009); William D. Shiell, Delivering from Memory: The Effect of Performance on the Early Christian Audience (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2011); Annette Weissenrieder and Robert B. Coote, eds., The Interface of Orality and Writing: Speaking, Seeing, Writing in the Shaping of New Genres, BPC 11 (Eugene, OR: Cascade, 2015); Kelly R. Iverson, ed., From Text to Performance: Narrative and Performance Criticisms in Dialogue and Debate (Cambridge: Lutterworth, 2015); Dan Nässelqvist, Public Reading in Early Christianity: Lectors, Manuscripts and Sound in the Oral Delivery of John 1–4, NovTSup 163 (Leiden: Brill, 2016); Travis West, The Art of Biblical Performance: Biblical Performance Criticism and the Genre of Biblical Narrative (Diss. Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, 2018). For a convenient introduction to biblical performance criticism, see www.biblicalperformancecriticism.org, esp. the video that was made as a result of the SNTS Seminar on Orality and Performance Criticism by Eugene Botha, Orality, Print Culture and Biblical Interpretation. Directed by Anna Teichert. 52 min., 51 sec.; from Biblical Performance Criticism. MPEG. http://www.biblicalperformancecriticism. org/index.php/2011-08-26-20-28-44/youtube-channels/47-performance-video/236-orality-printculture-and-biblical-interpretation-video (accessed March 16, 2016). 35     Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel, 1: “First-century literary works were almost always heard in a communal setting rather than read silently by individuals”; Shiell, Reading Acts, 1: “Early Christian authors wrote their works anticipating that they would be performed publicly.”

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This suggests that there is at least also an oral/aural dimension to Mark’s gospel narrative.36 This simple recognition suffices for the present purpose. Whether Mark’s Gospel as a whole derives from an oral performance (Joanna Dewey)37 or served as a script for such a performance, either of individual pericopes or of the gospel as a whole, need not detain us for the moment. Our focus is on a single pericope. So what can be said about its performative potential? To begin with, it should not go unnoticed that Mark 5:21–43, brief as it is, contains a number of features that would befit a live performance in a theatre and that could serve as stage-directions, almost as in Greek tragedy: the entrance of players, the various dialogues, the screams and silences, the acts of kneeling down, the touching, the dramatic demonstration of the girl’s return to life could all be worked over into dramatic action to enhance a lively interaction with the audience, including the presence of a chorus (the ὄχλος) and various actors, and thus exploit the emotional dimension of the text. It would make a highly vivid dramatic episode. There is however not a single thread of evidence in antiquity that the story was ever performed this way, despite the presence of theatres even in the Greek cities of first-century Palestine, including Jerusalem.38 So, intriguing as the idea of a dramatic per36   A school example to illustrate the reading-as-performance character of the Gospel of Mark is the brief editorial insertion of ὁ ἀναγινώσκων νοείτω (“let the reader understand”) in Mark 13:14, which seems to be a direct address to the lector rather than to the individual reader [so, e.g., R.T. France, The Gospel of Mark: A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 523–524; Adela Yarbro Collins, Mark: A Commentary, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2007), 608; cf. BDAG 60]. But see Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel, 15– 16, 176–177, for a different interpretation. He understands the term “reader” here as referring to the individual members of an audience: “Let the one whom I am addressing understand” (177). 37    Joanna Dewey, “Oral Methods of Structuring Narrative in Mark,” Int 53 (1989): 32– 44; idem, “Mark as Interwoven Tapestry: Forecasts and Echoes for a Listening Audience.” CBQ 53 (1991): 221–236; idem, “The Gospel of Mark as Oral/Aural Event: Implications for Interpretation,” in The New Literary Criticism and the New Testament, JSNTSup 109, ed. Elizabeth Struthers Malbon and Edgar V. McKnight (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic, 1994), 145–163; idem, “The Survival of Mark’s Gospel: A Good Story?” JBL 123 (2004): 495–507. 38  See, e.g., Achim Lichtenberger, “Jesus and the Theater in Jerusalem,” in Jesus and Archaeology, ed. James H. Charlesworth (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 283–299. But cf. the article of Paul R. McCuistion, Colin Warner, and Francois P. Viljoen, “The Influence of Greek Drama on Matthew’s Gospel,” HvTSt 70 (2014): 9 pp. DOI: 10.4102/hts.v70i1.2024. Building on the observation that Matthew is a narrative, McCuistion (the main author) argues that Matthew consciously structured his gospel under the influence of Greek tragedy, notably so to have appeal to a Gentile audience. “The best starting place will be at the theatre because the theatre represented life in the form of tragedy and comedy” (2, my emphasis). While he points out that there is a Jewish connection to the Greek theatre in Jerusalem and outside Palestine (3) [see also Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel, 42], he does not state that the Gospel of Matthew was actually performed as a theatrical play, only that its makeup resembles Greek tragedy, bears “a strong semblance to a Greek drama” (8). The bulk of the article concerns the questions of literary genre and structure, not of theatrical performance. The comparison of Matthew to Greek

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formance in a theatre-setting is, we must discard it from the start. The many performance clues that are there, do suggest, however, an oral context with at least a minimum degree of performance to facilitate communicative action by a single story-teller rather than a group of actors. As Whitney Shiner puts it: “Oral performance of narrative was in a semi-dramatic style.” 39 Perhaps it is best to make a distinction between high (formal) performance and low (informal) performance, thus allowing a certain degree of flexibility in what counts as a performance. That the Gospel of Mark as we have it complies well with the requirements for a performance in a communal setting has been shown with a fair degree of conviction by Whitney Shiner. Drawing from the Graeco-Roman oratory tradition of Terrence, Cicero, Quintilian and others, he studied such elements as emotion, delivery, memorization, gesture and movement, audience, and applause lines. Explicit emotions, he suggests, “provide practically stage directions concerning voice and gesture.”40 He managed to identify a number of these in our pericope. Building especially on Terrence, he observes: “Supplication, a common attitude in the Gospel, is shown by moderately extending one or both arms, midtorso height, with fingers open and palms more or less upward. ‘My little daughter is about to die! Come, lay your hands on her, so that she may be saved and live!’ (5:23).”41 The pericope contains a number of implied gestures: “The woman with the hemorrhage touches his cloak (5:27).”42 “When touched by the woman with a hemorrhage, Jesus turns around in the crowd and asks, ‘Who has touched my clothes?’ (5:31). He looks around to see who has done it (5:32). Healing the little girl, he takes her by the hand (5:41).”43 “Some actions may take the performer too far out of his or her role as narrator. For example, a number of suppliants either fall, bow, or kneel down at the feet of Jesus (5:6, 22; 7:25; 10:17), and the boy with an unclean spirit lies like a corpse after being delivered from its grip (9:26). Actions such as these may be indicated by hand gestures so that the performer can maintain an attitude of addressing the audience.”44 “A point that is frequently found in the depiction of women has been called the pudicitia, or modesty, gesture. This is made by bending the left arm across the waist with the palm held open and facing downward while the right elbow rests on the back of the left hand. The right arm is bent upward toward the face with the forefinger extended and the others curled inward. The forefinger typically ends up at the level of the chin or cheek and often lightly touches the face. This gesture is generally understood to convey a woman’s modesty. It would be quite appropriate for women seeking healing from Jesus. The woman with the issue of blood (5:24–34) wants to receive healing unnoticed by the crowd and is terrified when Jesus draws attention to her. It would be appropriate to emphasize her modesty with some variation of the gesture. One might hold the left hand toward the face tragedy (4–5) seems farfetched in comparison to more conventional explanations of Matthew’s five-fold structure. A modern (twentieth-century) drama in the tradition of the mediaeval mystery plays can be found in Felix Rutten, Jessonda, het dochtertje van Jairus: Mysteriespel in drie bedrijven (Amsterdam: R.K. Boekcentrale, 1920). 39   Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel, 4. 40   Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel, 68. 41   Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel, 134. 42   Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel, 136; italics original. 43   Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel, 135–136; italics original. 44   Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel, 136.

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with the forefinger extended while reaching out for Jesus’ garment with the right hand, thus softening the boldness of action and showing the woman’s effort to overcome her natural modesty. One might also assume the gesture when the woman, after her discovery, comes before Jesus in fear and trembling.” “An actor can express sorrow by inclining the head to the right and bringing the open right hand to the temple. When bad news comes from the house of Jairus, ‘Your daughter has died. Why bother the teacher any more?’ (5:35), the gesture might be used.”45 In 5:41, where he translates foreign words, Mark also employs direct address to include the audience, thus blurring the distance between the narrative world and the social world of the audience.46 As to the insertion of applause points, it is interesting to observe that the command to secrecy undermines the audience’s tendency to applaud.47

As possible settings for such performances one can think of early-Christian community gatherings or more informal meetings in house churches, craftsmen’s workshops (think of Paul) and perhaps outdoor settings fit for the administration of baptism.48 At any rate, one should not look for a single Sitz im Leben for a particular form as the old form critics hypothesized, but reckon with a wide variety of life settings (both informal and institutionalized) in which stories about Jesus were told, reflected on, studied, and passed on.49 Mark’s version, then, demonstrates features that are typical of or suited for an actual oral performance in a more or less informal setting. However, the only conclusion we can legitimately draw from this at this point is that the study of performance criticism does not rule out a genesis in an oral context. It does not positively demonstrate it. Thus, valuable though the insights of performance criticism are, they do not bring us further in the search for (oral) sources before the composition of Mark’s gospel, except for supportive evidence of a broader case.

  Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel, 132.   Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel, 176. 47   Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel, 165–166. 48   Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel, 49–52. 49   On the notion of Sitz im Leben under the new conditions of orality and memory studies, see Samuel Byrskog, “A New Quest for the Sitz im Leben: Social Memory, the Jesus Tradition and the Gospel of Matthew,” NTS 52 (2006): 319–336, and esp. idem, “A Century with the Sitz im Leben: From Form-­Critical Setting to Gospel Community and Beyond,” ZNW 98 (2007): 1–27. Byrskog redefines Sitz im Leben as “that recurrent type of mnemonic occasion within the life of early Christian communities when certain people cared about the Jesus tradition in a special way and performed and narrated it orally and in writing” (“Century,” 20; italicized in the original). 45

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D. The Quest for (Pre-Synoptic) Orality Markers The quest for orality markers is beset by numerous problems.50 The only access to alleged oral material is through written texts. Two complications in particular need to be addressed before we can proceed. First, Rudolf Bultmann stated long ago: “Eine prinzipielle Grenze zwischen der mündlichen und der schriftlichen Überlieferung gibt es nicht, und auch die Redaktion des Traditionsstoffes setzt nicht erst mit der schriftlichen Fixierung ein.”51 This point has been vigorously contested by Werner Kelber who argued that the publication of Mark was an act of anti-oral sentiments (although he later nuanced his view somewhat).52 But recent scholarship has basically affirmed Bultmann’s position: there is an “interplay” between oral and written tradition.53 Either way, the point is more a complication than an 50    Surveys of recent scholarship on orality can be found in Robert C. Culley, “Oral Tradition and Biblical Studies,” OrTrad 1 (1986): 30–65 (a Forschungsbericht covering both Testaments); Kelly R. Iverson, “Orality and the Gospels: A Survey of Recent Research,” CurBR 8 (2009): 71–106; Eve, Behind the Gospels. In addition to the work of Kelber, Bailey and Dunn (see below), see, e.g., Paul J. Achtemeier, “Omne verbum sonat: The New Testament and the Oral Environment of Late Western Antiquity,” JBL 109 (1990): 3–27; Joanna Dewey, ed., Orality and Textuality in Early Christian Literature, Semeia 65 (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press, 1995); Terence C. Mournet, Oral Tradition and Literary Dependency: Variability and Flexibility in the Synoptic Tradition and Q, WUNT 2/195 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005); Klaus Berger, Formen und Gattungen im Neuen Testament, UTB 2532 (Tübingen: Francke, 2005), 35–46 (§ 10. Mündlichkeit und Schriftlichkeit), 47–53 (§ 11. Anonymität und Kollektivität); Baum, Der mündliche Faktor; idem, “Matthew’s Sources,” 1–23; Tom Thatcher, ed., Jesus, the Voice, and the Text: Beyond The Oral and Written Gospel (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2008); Werner H. Kelber and Samuel Byrskog, eds., Jesus in Memory: Traditions in Oral and Scribal Perspectives (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2009); Rodríguez, “Reading and Hearing in Ancient Contexts,” 151–178; idem, Structuring Early Christian Memory: Jesus in Tradition, Performance, and Text. ESCO; LNTS 407 (London: T&T Clark, 2010); idem, Oral Tradition and the New Testament: A Guide for the Perplexed, Guides for the Perplexed (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2014); Eric Eve, “Orality Is No Dead-End,” 3–23, in response to Paul Foster, “Memory, Orality, and the Fourth Gospel: Three Dead-Ends in Historical Jesus Research,” JSHJ 10 (2012): 191–227. 51  Rudolf Bultmann, Die Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition. Mit einem Nachwort von Gerd Theissen, FRLANT 29 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1921, 101995), 321. 52   Kelber, Oral and Written Gospel. For Kelber’s afterthoughts on the Great Divide, see the new introduction to the second edition, xxi–xxii. See also Duling, “Memory, Collective Memory,” 6–7. A critique on Kelber’s characterization of Mark as a radical break with orality has been offered by Larry W. Hurtado, “Greco-Roman Textuality and the Gospel of Mark: A Critical Assessment of Werner Kelber’s The Oral and the Written Gospel,” BBR 7 (1997): 91–106. 53  Holly E. Hearon, “The Interplay Between Written and Spoken Word in the Second Testament as Background to the Emergence of Written Gospels,” OrTrad 25 (2010): 57–74. She refers to Quintilian (Inst. 10.1.2), who observed that writing, reading, and speaking “are so intimately and inseparably connected that if one of them be neglected, we shall waste the labour which we have devoted to the others” (57). Cf. Richard A. Horsley, “Oral and Written Aspects

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obstacle. It does not invalidate the legitimacy of the search for oral tradition through written media.54 Second, the search for orality markers in Mark 5 is, to be sure, an exercise in imagination, by necessity speculative.55 According to an investigation conducted by Barry Henaut, the oral tradition underlying the previous chapter, Mark 4, has been irretrievably lost.56 Combined with the concluof the Emergence of the Gospel of Mark as Scripture,” OrTrad 25 (2010): 96: it is “more historically accurate to say that the text of scripture functioned as much (or more) in scribal memory and oral recitation as in (but not independent of) writing on scrolls.” Also Byrskog, “Century,” 24: “The Jesus tradition was carried by an interaction of the oral and the written mode of communication. Formative transmission, performance and narration took place not only orally and not only in writing, but in the conjunction of the oral and the written word. Unless one specifies the interaction of orality with the literacy of early Christianity, it is of little analytical help to speak of the oral character of the Jesus tradition.” Egbert J. Bakker points to the sometimes diffuse definitions of orality and literacy in classical studies, in “How Oral Is Oral Composition?” in Signs of Orality: The Oral Tradition and Its Influence in the Greek and Roman World, ed. E. Anne Mackay, Mnemosyne 188 (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 29–47. Building on William A. Johnson, Readers and Reading Culture in the High Roman Empire: A Study of Elite Communities, Classical Culture and Society (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010), Mladen Popović has recently confirmed that also in ancient Judaism reading, writing and memorizing (and performing) were often “interlinked” activities, for instance in group reading events such as at Qumran. See Mladen Popović, “Reading, Writing, and Memorizing Together: Reading Culture in Ancient Judaism and the Dead Sea Scrolls in a Mediterranean Context,” DSD 24 (2017): 447–470. 54  Robert McIver and Marie Carroll have tried (with little success) to develop criteria for determining the existence of written sources. They concluded on the basis of experiments with Australian undergraduate students that sixteen words in exact conjoined sequence may be a indicator of the presence of copying. See Robert K. McIver and Marie Carroll, “Experiments to Develop Criteria for Determining the Existence of Written Sources, and Their Potential Implications for the Synoptic Problem,” JBL 121 (2002): 667–687; McIver, Memory, Jesus, and the Synoptic Gospels, RBS 59 (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2011). See the critical assessments of John Poirer, “Memory, Written Sources and the Synoptic Problem: A Response to Robert K. McIver and Marie Carroll,” JBL 123 (2004): 315–322, and Mark S. Goodacre, “A Flaw in McIver and Carroll’s Experiments to Determine Written Sources in the Gospels,” JBL 133 (2014): 793–800. My concern in this chapter is to develop criteria for determining the (preMarkan) oral character of the story. 55  Thus Rodríguez, Structuring Early Christian Memory, 7, rightly observes: “Thus the oral traditions of Jesus’ earliest followers, and the development of those traditions into the mid- and late-first century CE, appear both unrecoverable and of critical importance for our analyses of our extant written texts” (italics original). 56    Barry W. Henaut, Oral Tradition and the Gospels: The Problem of Mark 4, JSNTSup 82 (Sheffield: JSOT, 1993). Harm Hollander, “The Words of Jesus: From Oral Traditions to Written Record in Paul and Q,” NovT 42 (2000): 340–357, arrived – overly sceptical – at a similar conclusion with regard to the transmission of the words of Jesus in general. Following Henaut, he claims that “we do not know for sure whether Jesus was an oral performer, a teacher. Such a portrait cannot be demonstrated with sufficient evidence” (351). He detects “an enormous barrier [cf. Henaut’s “oral tradition: the irrecoverable barrier to Jesus”, az] to the recovery of the exact contents of the oral (and written) traditions behind our texts and consequently of any vera-

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sions of my chapter on redaction and tradition, which affirmed the literary nature of the texts as we now have them, the odds seem to be very much against the possibility of ever reaching back behind the written texts to catch at least a glimpse of the story in its oral phase. More recently, Eric Eve has also expressed his pessimism about such a project, sceptical as he is about the success of construing a definitive model to study the oral Jesus tradition: There is probably no way in which such a definitive model could be arrived at, given both the great variety of ways in which oral tradition has been observed to operate under other circumstances and the absence of much specific evidence for how it actually operated in primitive Christianity. Valuable as crosscultural studies from anthropology, folklore and the like may be, we must always bear in mind that their application to the first-century situation of the first followers of Jesus is bound to be speculative, and that we lack the detailed data to determine the specifics of how individual and social memory functioned in the pre-Gospel period, as opposed to an appreciation of what seems generally probable.57

Taking his observations seriously, however, they suggest that the search is difficult, not that it is impossible.58 They do underline the need of valid criteria. And it is to these that we now turn.

E. Orality Markers in Mark 5:21–43 and Parr. The proper way to proceed, then, is to identify typical denominators of orality or “orality markers,” to see if they constitute a coherent enough story that could be transmitted and survive in an oral setting. To be sure, our story is not a very complex one. It would not be difficult to recount the major lines with a fair degree of accuracy if one were asked to do so. But is it possible to work our way back behind the text of the gospels and lay bare the contours and/or the content of a possible oral framework? If orality studies is to be more than just a corrective discipline but a productive one – that is, able to generate knowledge and foster insight – the need for criteria becomes all the more pressing. General criteria have been established by students of anthropology, linguistics and related disciplines, a convenient summary of which has been provided in Walter Ong’s seminal work on Orality and Literacy. In his chapter on the “psychodynamics of orality,” Ong gives the following general charcious saying of the historical Jesus. This is a barrier which cannot be overcome by the critical tools we use and have to use” (355). 57   Eve, Behind the Gospels, 184–185. 58  Cf. Ong, Orality and Literacy, 170 (referring to Kelber and the quest for pre-Synoptic orality): “One can be aware that texts have oral backgrounds without being entirely aware of what orality really is.” Pace Berger, Formen und Gattungen, 39–40 (“Fragwürdige Kriterien für Mündlichkeit”), followed by Baum, Der mündliche Faktor, 283: “Es ist unmöglich und ein letztlich sinnloses Unterfangen, aus verschiedenen (mündlichen oder schriftlichen) Fassungen eines Textes dessen ursprünglichen Wortlaut zu rekonstruieren.”

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acteristics of (primary!) orality 59: It is (i) additive rather than subordinative; (ii) aggregative rather than analytic; (iii) redundant or “copious”; (iv) conservative or traditionalist; (v) close to the human lifeworld; (vi) agonistically toned [on which see also the interesting background information about the competitive nature of ancient oral performance provided by Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel, 19–23]; (vii) emphatic and participatory rather than objectively distanced; (viii) homeostatic; (ix) situational rather than abstract.60

None of these features of oral expression can be said to be indicative of orality to the exclusion of textuality, and given the fact that they have found their way in written texts as well, they certainly do not legitimize the sharp division between orality and textuality that some scholar have posited. They are part of a larger argument and need supportive evidence. Especially Werner Kelber 61 and James Dunn62 have developed criteria more immediately applicable to the study of the gospels.63 Building on the work of Kelber and 59   Ong’s definition of primary and secondary orality slightly differs from other orality scholars. Ong contrasts primary (“preliterate”) orality with secondary (“post-typographic”) orality. See Ong, Rhetoric, Romance, and Technology, 20–21; idem, Orality and Literacy, 133–135, 168 (“an orality not antecedent to writing and print, as primary orality is, but consequent upon and dependent upon writing and print”). For a different understanding, see Kelber, Oral and Written Gospels, 217–218. Secondary orality is more conventionally applied to orality based on a written text, as, e.g., a performance of a script. The gospels, at any rate, were not written in a purely oral environment (cf. Torah scholarship; Qumran as a literary community). Byrskog, Jesus the Only Teacher, 347–349; idem, Story as History, 138–144, prefers the term “re-oralization.” Notably, as textual critics such as David Parker and Eldon Jay Epp acknowledge, the phenomenon of secondary orality is also of the utmost importance for textual criticism and challenges some of its basic assumptions, see David C. Parker, The Living Text of the Gospels (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997); Eldon Jay Epp, “The Multivalence of the Term ‘Original Text’ in New Testament Textual Criticism,” HTR 92 (1999): 245–281; repr. in idem, Perspectives on New Testament Textual Criticism: Collected Essays 1962–2004, NovTSup 116 (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 551–593; J. Eugene Botha, “New Testament Textual Criticism Is Dead! Long Live New Testament Textual Criticism!” HvTSt 63 (2007): 561–573; James D.G. Dunn, Neither Jew nor Greek: A Contested Identity, vol. 3 of Christianity in the Making (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015), 217–218. 60   Ong, Orality and Literacy, 31–76. See also Albert B. Lord, “The Gospels as Oral Traditional Literature,” in The Relationships among the Gospels: An Interdisciplinary Dialogue, ed. William O. Walker, TUMSR 5 (San Antonio, TX: Trinity University Press, 1978), 33–91; idem, “Characteristics of Orality,” OrTrad 2 (1987): 54–72. 61   Kelber, Oral and Written Gospel, 65. 62  James D.G. Dunn, Jesus Remembered, vol. 1 of Christianity in the Making (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003), 173–254; idem, Oral Gospel Tradition, including “Altering the Default Setting,” 139–175 (= Oral Gospel Tradition, 41–79). 63  See also Gerd Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten: Ein Beitrag zur formgeschichtlichen Erforschung der synoptischen Evangelien, SNT 8 (Gütersloh: Mohn, 1974, 5 1987), 189–196; Pieter J.J. Botha, “Mark’s Story as Oral Traditional Literature: Rethinking the Transmission of Some Traditions about Jesus,” HvTSt 47 (1991): 304–331; repr. in idem, Orality and Literacy, 163–190 (quotations are from the latter), in which criteria from the Lord-Parry Theory are applied to the Gospel of Mark. See also Horsley, “Oral and Written Aspects,” 93– 114. Cf. Holly E. Hearon, who proposes a three-fold method that identifies stable and unstable

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Kenneth Bailey,64 Dunn argues that oral tradition is characterized by a mix of stability and flexibility. Variations between the various gospel accounts are not necessarily the result of a linear or cumulative development (one gospel writer expanding and/or revising the work of the other), but are rather typical expressions of the variation of oral performance.65 According to Dunn, this oral stream of tradition has influenced the wording of the gospels, even if there is a literary dependency as well. In what follows, I will apply insights from recent orality scholars to the story of Jairus’s daughter and the haemorrhaging woman and discuss (1) the criterion of stability, (2) the criterion of flexibility, (3) the linguistic criterion, (4) the use of mnemonic structure markers, (5) the law of scenic duality, (6) the dynamic between past and present, (7) awareness of Markan redaction, (8) the issue of names and anonymity, (9) the criterion of increasing complexity, (10) the absence of an acclamation, and (11) the early posthistory of the tradition. 1. The Criterion of Stability Stability ensures a broadly recognizable entity over the course of its transmission. Oral traditions are likely to survive because their transmission is guided by a conservative principle that ensures a stable core to function as a mind-map or script, even though each performance must be adapted to its new setting. Since oral performances are almost by definition characterized by stability, the first step is to identify the stable core of the episode, for instance by extracting the common core of the three versions, i.e., the words and phrases that are exactly the same in all three versions and, allowing for some flexibility and variance, words and phrases that are roughly the same. If the theory works, this is likely to result in a more or less coherent story. In the study of the Synoptic Gospels, especially so in material from the Triple Tradition such as ours, this may well be achieved through elements and examines (following Jan Assmann) how the latter “reorient the memory in each version in terms of the image it projects” (107). She applies her theory to the story of the woman who annointed Jesus in Mark 14:3–9 and parr. See Holly E. Hearon, “The Story of ‘the Woman Who Anointed Jesus’ as Social Memory: A Methodological Proposal for the Study of Tradition as Memory,” in Kirk and Thatcher, Memory, Tradition, and Text, 99–118. 64  Kenneth E. Bailey, “Informal Controlled Oral Tradition and the Synoptic Gospels,” ExpTim 106 (1994): 363–367; idem, “Informal Controlled Oral Tradition and the Synoptic Gospels,” Them. 20 (1995): 4–11; repr. from AJT 5 (1991): 34–54. 65  Cf. also Gerhardsson’s observation of Rabbinic oral transmission in Memory and Manuscript, 93: “To describe the way in which oral Torah is transmitted is to describe a complicated interplay between basic solidity and complementary flexibility” (my emphasis); Eve, Behind the Gospels, 178: “oral tradition typically exhibits both stability and change” (my emphasis). Bailey, “Informal Controlled Oral Tradition,” 7–8, prefers to speak of “continuity and flexibility” (not “continuity and change”).

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a comparison of the various versions to see what they have in common and establish whether or not this is coherent enough to function as a carrier of the tradition. Students of the synoptic problem have long been accustomed to determining the degree of overlap and isolation of unique material by visualizing the correspondences and differences with the help (back then, in the predigital age) of coloured pens and pencils.66 Presumably, a tradition’s stable core would emerge first and foremost (although of course neither exclusively nor by definition) in the sections in which the three versions have significant verbal overlap (in the approach outlined in the previous footnote categories 4 and 5, exactly and roughly the same words and phrases in all three versions). These phrases are likely to constitute the basic constituent parts for remembering and identifying the story. If the common material of Mark 5 and parr., i.e., the words and phrases that are exactly or roughly the same, are indicative of a common core, the result is as follows (with variant wordings in formulation bracketed): ἔρχεται (ἐλθὼν, ἦλθεν) εἷς τῶν ἀρχισυναγώγων (ἄρχων, ἄρχων τῆς συναγωγῆς) (saying) ὅτι θυγάτριον (θυγάτηρ) ἐσχάτως ἔχει (ἐτελεύτησεν, ἀπέθνῃσκεν). Καὶ γυνὴ οὖσα ἐν ῥύσει αἵματος (αἱμορροοῦσα) δώδεκα ἔτη (ἀπὸ ἐτῶν δώδεκα) ἐλθοῦσα (προσελθοῦσα) ὄπισθεν ἥψατο (τοῦ κρασπέδου) τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ ἰδεῖν (ἰδὼν, ἰδοῦσα) εἶπεν θυγάτηρ (θύγατερ), ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε. καὶ ἔρχονται (καὶ ἐλθὼν, ἐλθὼν δὲ) εἰς τὸν οἶκον (εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν) λέγει (ἔλεγεν, εἶπεν) οὐκ (γὰρ) ἀπέθανεν ἀλλὰ καθεύδει. καὶ κατεγέλων αὐτοῦ. κρατήσας (ἐκράτησεν) τῆς χειρὸς καὶ ἀνέστη (ἠγέρθη)

The result of this somewhat mechanical exercise is a relatively coherent story: a leading (religious?) official whose daughter is critically ill or at the point of death comes to Jesus and (implicitly) asks him for help. A woman who has suffered from haemorrhages for twelve years approaches Jesus from behind and touches his cloak. When Jesus sees her, he says, “Daughter, your faith has healed you” (θυγάτηρ, ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε). When Jesus arrives at the house, he says “she has not died but she is asleep” (οὐκ ἀπέθανεν ἀλλὰ καθεύδει) and is being ridiculed. He then takes the girl by the hand 66   As, e.g, suggested by Gordon D. Fee, New Testament Exegesis: A Handbook for Students and Pastors (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1983, 32002), 118–119. For our purposes, Fee’s model suffers from a lack of precision. In my own course on NT Exegesis I use a colour system comprising eleven different categories: (1) Words and phrases peculiar to Matthew (= SMt) (red); (2) Words and phrases peculiar to Mark (= SMk) (blue); (3) Words and phrases peculiar to Luke (= SLk) (yellow); (4) Exactly the same word(s) in Matthew, Mark and Luke (brown); (5) Roughly the same word(s) in Matthew, Mark and Luke (light brown); (6) Exactly the same word(s) in Matthew and Mark (purple); (7) Roughly the same word(s) in Matthew and Mark (light purple); (8) Exactly the same word(s) in Matthew and Luke (orange); (9) Roughly the same word(s) in Matthew and Luke (light orange); (10) Exactly the same word(s) in Mark and Luke (green); (11) Roughly the same word(s) in Mark and Luke (light green).

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and raises her.67 Moreover, read separately, ignoring the intertwining of the two stories, each incident has a coherent plot-development (beginning, middle and end) in itself. This may not be irrelevant for our reconstruction of a pre-Synoptic trajectory. The two sayings of Jesus – the punch-lines of each episode, so to speak – have been preserved in exactly the same wording in all three versions, an observation which ties in with the tradition critics’ observation long ago that, generally speaking, words of Jesus have been handed down with more precision and less modification than words about Jesus.68 Both sayings, to be sure, can be retroverted without much difficulty to Aramaic. The words θυγάτηρ, ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε (Mark 5:34; Matt 9:22; Luke 8:48) would run like this: ‫( ברתי הימנותכי אחיתכי‬braty haymānûtēky ’aḥyātēky) (Aram.)69 The words οὐκ ἀπέθανεν ἀλλὰ καθεύδει (Mark 5:39; Matt 9:24; Luke 8:52): ‫( טליתא לא מיתת אלא דמכא הי‬tlît’ā lō’ mîtat ’ellā’ damkkā’ hî) (Aram.)70

67   Crossan, Birth of Christianity, 85–87, makes some helpful comments on the difference between matrix (the underlying multiform stable structure) and format (the uniform scribal expression) that are applicable to this reconstruction. 68  Martin Dibelius, Die Formgeschichte des Evangeliums. Mit einem Nachtrag von G. Iber (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1917, 51966), 31–32. Also Gerhardsson, Memory and Manuscript, 335: “[M]ost of the gospel material is haggadic material, and ... haggadic material is often transmitted with a somewhat wider margin of variation in wording that halakic material”; idem, Tradition and Transmission, 44: “It is not without significance that the sayings of Jesus vary much less than the narrative material and the redactional framework.” Cf. Baum, Der mündliche Faktor, 29. 69   Should Jesus have spoken these words in Hebrew [cf. Guido Baltes, Hebräisches Evangelium und synoptische Überlieferung: Untersuchungen zum hebraischen Hintergrund der Evangelien, WUNT 2/312 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2011)], then the words θυγάτηρ, ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε could have been: ‫( בתי אמונתך החיתה אותך‬bitti ’ĕmûnātēk heḥeytâ ’ôtāk) [so The New Covenant Commonly Called the New Testament: Aramaic Peshiṭta Aramaic Text with Hebrew Translation, ed. The Aramaic Scriptures Research Society in Israel (Jerusalem: Bible Society in Israel, 1986), 51 (sub ‫])לד‬, or ‫[ בתי אמּונתך הֹושיעה לך‬so Robert Lisle Lindsey, A Hebrew Translation of the Gospel of Mark: Greek-Hebrew Diglot with English Introduction (Jerusalem: Dugith Publishers Baptist House, n.d.), 105]. ‫ הימנותכי‬from ‫“ הימנותא‬trust, confidence, faith” [Marcus Jastrow, Dictionary of the Targumim, the Talmud Babli and Yerushalmi, and the Midrashic Literature, 2 vols. in one (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1903/1943, 2005), 347]. ‫ אחיתכי‬from ‫ חיי‬/ ‫(“ חיה‬1) to live; (2) to heal; to recover, regain health” (Jastrow 454). 70   In Hebrew, οὐκ ἀπέθανεν ἀλλὰ καθεύδει could have been: ‫הנערה לא מתה אלא ישנה היא‬ (hanna‘ǎrâ lō’ mētâ ’ell)ā’ yǝšēnâ hî’) (so The New Covenant) or ‫( לא מתה הידלה אלא ישנה‬so Lindsey, Hebrew Translation, 105). ‫ מיתת‬peal pf. 3 sg. f. from ‫“ מית‬to die, be dead” (Jastrow 780). ‫ דמכא‬peal pf. 3 sg. f. from ‫“ דמך‬to sleep; to die, to lie in the grave” (Jastrow 313–314).

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2. The Criterion of Flexibility While the content of oral tradition is characterized by stability of subject, theme and key details – there has to be a certain degree of fixity to the story for it to be recognizable as this story –, no oral performance or retelling is the same.71 This is not only so because of the constraints of human memory – there is of course a limit to what one can memorize verbatim – but also because the storytelling situation may require a different twist to be given to the story, live interaction with the audience force the storyteller to improvise on the spot and adapt his or her story accordingly, or because the storyteller simply wishes to increase the impact of the storytelling by adding personal or historical details. In hermeneutical theory this mixture of stability and flexibility coheres with Hans-Georg Gadamer’s dialectical understanding of tradition and interpretation as performance in the present, and especially with his notion of “Okkasionalität.” 72 Interpretation is an “event” that must be acted out each time anew.73 The reader of ancient texts such as Homer, Plato and the Bible should not be concerned in the first place with reconstruction of the original text or the author’s intended meaning – what amounts to no more than reconstruction of the very first (past!) performance – but with performance in the present. Meaning, for Gadamer, belongs to the present, not to the past. This, of course, does not mean that one can make everything of a text. The question how long a performance of Macbeth in all honesty can be labelled a performance of Macbeth can be answered with some confidence as long as its inner structure (or “stable core”) can be reasonably recognized.74

Typical examples of flexibility are the introduction or omission of supporting details, persons, numbers, and expressions of local flavour. In the New Testament one can think of the resurrection and appearances traditions and the transmission of the institutional words of the Lord’s Supper as clear examples of the dialectic of stability and flexibility so typical of oral tradition.75 71   This has been shown to be the case, though in a different context (the study of oral poetry in Yugoslav tradition, in an attempt to contribute to the Homeric question), by Albert B. Lord, The Singer of Tales, HSCL 24; ed. Stephen Mitchell and Gregory Nagy (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, [1960] 22000), 68–98 (The Theme) and 99–124 (Songs and the Song). Building on the work of his teacher Milman Parry [cf. Milman Parry, The Making of Homeric Verse: The Collected Papers of Milman Parry, ed. Adam Parry (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1971)], he observed that, even though the singers themselves were convinced that they had reproduced exactly the same song, the length and exact wording differed substantially. 72  Hans-Georg Gadamer, Wahrheit und Methode: Grundzüge einer philosophische Herme­ neutik, GW 1 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1960, 61990), 149–153; Eng. Truth and Method, trans. Joel Weinsheimer and Donald G. Marshall (London: Continuum, 1975, 21989), 138–142. 73   Gadamer, Wahrheit und Methode, 107–139, esp. 107–116; Truth and Method, 102–130, esp. 102–110. See on this further Arie W. Zwiep, Tussen tekst en lezer: Een historische inleiding in de bijbelse hermeneutiek (Amsterdam: VU University Press, 2013, 32018), 2:175–177. 74  On this question, see further Umberto Eco, The Limits of Interpretation, AdvSem (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990; FMB Edition 1994). 75   See the commentaries and specialized literature ad loc.

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Approaching the story of Jairus and the haemorrhaging woman from this angle, we should not be surprised to find variations in the diagnosis of the condition of the girl, her age, the name and function of her father, the presence or absence of bystanders, the precise object of the woman’s touching, the description of her medical history, the number and identity of interlocutors on the road, the number of witnesses present in the girl’s room, and the conclusion to the story. Ignoring for the moment their literary relationships, such variations are typical of the variety and flexibility of oral storytelling. Thus, if we allow the storyteller the pleasure of exaggeration, even the statement that “the girl has just died” may well fall within the category of reasonable flexibility compared with “she is on the verge of death.” The same goes for the woman touching “Jesus,” touching “his cloak” and touching “the fringe of his cloak.” Such variation suggests at least that the story is also at home in an oral context. 3. The Linguistic Criterion Oral tradition experts have pointed to the overuse of the historic present,76 the frequent use of parataxis77 and direct speech (oratio obliqua) as typical orality markers.78 This, to be sure, applies well to the Markan version in particular,79 while Matthew and Luke seem to have restyled Mark in a more literary mode.80 This is not to deny that the historic present, parataxis and direct speech are also appropriate in non-oral discourse, but overall these features seem to be more at home in an oral setting. For an inventory of these markers I refer to the previous chapters of this study.81

  Kelber, Oral and Written Gospel, 66, instances “excessive employment of the historical present” as an orality marker. 77   Ong, Orality and Literacy, 37–38. Orality is “additive rather than subordinative.” 78  E.g., Botha, Orality and Literacy, 168–185; Eve, Behind the Gospels, 56. Armin Baum has recently re-opened the question of the background of Mark’s paratactic καί. While not denying its frequent occurrence in original Greek texts, he concludes that Mark’s over-use of it is much more in line with the Greek Old Testament, so that its classification as a (admittedly secondary) “syntactic semitism” is not unjustified. See Armin D. Baum, “Mark’s Paratactic καί as a Secondary Syntactic Semitism,” NovT 58 (2016): 1–26, for details. Surprisingly, he does not comment on the potential implications for the debate on the orality of the gospels. 79   See Chapters 2: Text and Translation, and 3: Structure and Form. Note that the historic present and the paratactic style are features of the Jairus episode more so than of the haemorrhaging woman’s episode. 80   See Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction. 81   Chapter 2: Text and Translation, and Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction. 76

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4. The Use of Mnemonic Structure Markers Mark’s overall structural makeup is characterized by the use of triads.82 As we know from Quintilian, such a structured text serves first and foremost for the orientation and memory of the performer.83 Kelber and others have pointed to the employment of “folkloristic triads” as a feature of orality in the Gospel of Mark.84 Mark 5:21–43 is no exception, given the sandwich-structure of the pericope as a whole (vv. 21–24, 25–34, 35–43), and the presence of three named disciples (Peter, James, and John, v. 37).85 Related to this is the ancient rhetorical device of association, which helps the performer to remember (or memorize) his material.86 Does the common association with the number twelve perhaps explain why Jairus’s daughter and the haemorrhaging woman were remembered together in the first place? 5. The Law of Scenic Duality The law of scenic duality has been taken as an indicator of (oral) tradition in the gospel tradition ever since Bultmann identified it as such in Die Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition.87 According to this principle, “in the interest of mnemonics, each story records a single-stranded plot with

  See Chapter 3: Structure and Form.   Quintilian, Inst. 11.2.36–39; LCL 494:76–79 (D.A. Russell). 84   Kelber, Oral and Written Gospel, 66; Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel, 109, 114–117; Horsley, “Oral and Written Aspects,” 106. 85   Kelber, Oral and Written Gospel, 66; cf. Botha, Orality and Literacy, 180. 86  Cf. Gerhardsson, Memory and Manuscript, 149, on the principle of association as a mnemonic technique: “... this principle of association is an ancient conscious method of arranging oral traditional collections in such a way as to make them easier the [sic] memorize and recite. For it is clear that this principle of association fills its real function in the process of memorization and delivery from memory. If it is also used in the editing of written texts, this is partly a relic of an ancient oral principle of arrangement, but mainly a measure to facilitate memorization and delivery from memory. As we have already pointed out, in this milieu the act of copying down did not mean that the process of memorization was discontinued.” 87   Bultmann, Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, 335–337. Kelber does not refer to Bultmann but to Axel Olrik, “Epische Gesetze der Volksdichtung,” ZDA 51 (1909): 1–12 (and its English translation), a reference absent in Bultmann, although Bultmann was familiar with his work. Possibly, Bultmann’s knowledge came via Hermann Gunkel, who was influenced by the work of Olrik [see David E. Aune, “Genre Theory and the Genre-Function of Mark and Matthew” (2011), in Jesus, Gospel Tradition and Paul in the Context of Jewish and Greco-Roman Antiquity, vol. 2 of Collected Essays, WUNT 303 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013), 27 n.11]. Olrik writes on page 5 of his article: “zwei ist die höchste zahl der auf einmal auftretenden personen; drei personen gleichzeitig, mit eigenem charakter, und mit eigenem handlung, sind unstatthaft. dieses gesetz des scenischen zweiheit ist streng ... das zusammenspiel von drei oder noch mehr personen, das unser drama liebt, ist in der volkspoesie verboten” (absence of capitalization original; italics replace wide spacing). 82 83

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no more than two principal characters making a joint appearance.” 88 Even when the intercalation is taken into consideration the episode has a relatively straightforward plot, not difficult to retell or perform in new circumstances. 6. Relevance of the Past for the Present A focus on the relevance of the past for the present and vice versa concurs with Ong’s homeostatic category.89 Traditions are shaped to meet the needs of current communities and, conversely, the identity of the current community has been shaped by the past. Traditions that are of immediate relevance to a community are more likely to survive than traditions that are of antiquarian interest only. In Mark 5, the saying of Jesus on faith (“Your faith has healed you”) and his saying on death as sleep (“She is not dead but asleep”) are typical examples of material that would be preserved because of its immediate relevance for the community, either because it instructed them about their founder (Jesus as a healer and bringer of salvation) or because it contained pastoral guidelines for life (faith in God, trust in Jesus). 7. The Argument of Awareness of Markan Redaction In a contribution to the Neirynck Festschrift on the four gospels, James Dunn undertook an analysis of unique Markan words and phrases not reproduced in Matthew, even when there is an overlap of material.90 Building on the work of Edgar John Pryke and accepting Markan priority, he listed 32 Markan passages that are usually taken to reflect Markan redaction.91 For example, Mark opens his gospel with the words, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ” (Ἀρχὴ τοῦ εὐαγγελίου Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ, Mark 1:1), and summarizes the start of Jesus’s Galilean ministry by saying that Jesus is said to have come “to proclaim the good news of God (τὸ εὐαγγέλιον τοῦ θεοῦ) ... saying ... repent, and believe in the good news (καὶ πιστεύετε ἐν τῷ εὐαγγελίῳ)” (Mark 1:14–15). The notion of the good news (τὸ εὐαγγέλιον) is a typical Markan notion which is lacking in the Matthaean and Lukan parallels. So Dunn suggests that “the passages in question might serve as evidence that Matthew was aware of such elements having been added by 88   Kelber, Oral and Written Gospel, 51, 66–67 (duality and repetition), followed by Eve, Behind the Gospels, 55. 89   Ong, Orality and Literacy, 46–49. See also Halbwachs, On Collective Memory, passim; Jan Vansina, Oral Tradition as History (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, [1960] 1985), 114–123 (“Tradition Mirrors Society”); Schwartz, “Christian Origins,” 43–56 (and “Jesus in First-Century Memory – A Response,” in idem, 249–261); Eve, Behind the Gospels, 6. Cf. also Bauckham, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, 316–318. 90    James D.G. Dunn, “Matthew’s Awareness of Markan Redaction” (1992), in The Oral Gospel Tradition, 109–119. 91    Dunn, Oral Gospel Tradition, 112–114.

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Mark. This in turn would constitute evidence that Matthew had access to variant oral versions of much of Mark’s material (other than Q), versions which lacked the details of Markan redaction and thereby alerted Matthew to the presence of that redaction.” 92 Needless to say that this would also apply in the absence of any oral context (i.e., Matthew could infer from his copy of Mark that Mark was fond of the emphasis on “the good news” and decide for a different take), so this is not a very reliable criterion. But it is part of an accumulative argument and it may help to fill in the contours of a pre- or non-Markan oral tradition. In Mark 5, Dunn instances the command to silence in v. 43 as an example.93 The words “He strictly ordered them that no one should know this” (καὶ διεστείλατο αὐτοῖς πολλὰ ἵνα μηδεὶς γνοῖ τοῦτο) obviously reflect Mark’s popular theme of the Messianic Secret, which is of little or no concern to the other evangelists.94 This would imply that – if the story was told in an oral setting before Mark composed his gospel or independently from him – it is likely that such a command to silence was not part of the public performance (after all, each time the command to silence would be repeated, the story-teller would incriminate himself). Mark’s version is exceptional at this point, not Matthew’s.95 If we apply the criterion of awareness of Markan redaction to Mark 5:21–43 as a whole and bring in the conclusions of our tradition- and redaction-critical analysis in the previous chapter, we will also have to include the introductory verse 21, altered by both Matthew and Luke, as an instance of “Matthaean (and Lukan) awareness of Markan redaction” probably not in oral circulation, as well as Mark’s diminutive θυγάτριον (Mark 5:23) against Matt 9:18 | Luke 8:42, where θυγάτηρ (a minor agreement) is used. Perhaps the argument of awareness of Markan redaction may even provide an explanation for the most significant minor agreement of our episode, the reference to the woman’s touching the fringe (τοῦ κρασπέδου) of Jesus’s cloak (Matt 9:20; Luke 8:44 against Mark 5:27). Is there a reason why Mark would decide not to adopt this phrase in his text? One reason one can think of is that Mark wished to reserve these words for use in the more general type-scene in the next chapter (Mark 6:56).96 If so, it is not unreasonable to infer that    Dunn, Oral Gospel Tradition, 109.    Dunn, Oral Gospel Tradition, 113. 94    That Luke in this particular case – different from Matthew – retains the words can be easily explained by Luke’s dependence on Mark. It simply illustrates that they have different editorial habits. 95   This conclusion now seems to be confirmed by the observation of Shiner, Performing the Gospel, 166, that the Markan command to silence undermines the applause line for the miracle, an intended Markan strategy. 96   Other reasons have been suggested by Bernhard Weiss, Die Evangelien des Markus und Lukas, KEK 1/2 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 61878, 91901), 83: “Das τοῦ κρασπέδου der Urrelation ist vielleicht absichtlich ausgelassen, weil es dem Evang. unwahrscheinlich war, 92 93

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(some of) the pre-Synoptic version(s) or performances contained the notion that the woman specifically touched the fringe (τοῦ κρασπέδου) of Jesus’s cloak, which – assuming the authenticity of the words in Luke’s text 97 – has been preserved by both Matthew and Luke, independently from each other.98 Hence, Mark’s elimination of the words may be the anomaly in the story’s transmission. Exit a classic minor agreement.99 In his book On the Independence of Matthew and Mark, John Rist incidentally states that in Luke 8:45 Luke “has added in the name of Peter, suppressed by Mark” (my emphasis).100 Rist himself takes this as an indication that Luke might have had another (written?) source at his disposal. If the name of Peter has indeed been suppressed by Mark (because of Peter’s unfavourable role?), we may well have here another instance of Lukan awareness of Markan redaction. In traditional exegesis, the absence of Peter’s name in Mark 5:31 and other places has sometimes been taken to reflect Mark’s attempt to minimize the embarrassing role of Peter or as evidence of (direct or indirect) Petrine influence on Mark.101 However, in the light of Luke’s treatment of Peter as spokesperson of the Twelve elsewhere in the gospel and Acts, this is difficult to establish with any certainty, especially so since Luke’s editorial tendency is so clearly visible in this verse (see Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction, under Luke 8:45). All in all, it is more likely that Luke added Peter’s name than that Mark suppressed it.

8. The Issue of Names and Anonymity Readers of Mark have often been surprised by the fact that of all the persons healed by Jesus only Jairus (Mark 5:22) and Bartimaeus (10:46) are mentioned by name. Augustine already knew that this was an anomaly and

dass in dem Volksgedränge (V. 24) die Frau gerade die Quaste zu treffen hoffen sollte, nach Schnz., [= Paul Schanz, Commentar über das Evangelium des heiligen Marcus (Freiburg: Herder, 1881), 206] damit es nicht scheine, als habe in der Quaste eine besondere Kraft gelegen, und so das Wunder beeinträchtigt werde, nach Keil [= Carl Friedrich Keil, Commentar über die Evangelien des Markus und Lukas (Leipzig: Dörffling und Francke, 1879), 63] aus Streben nach Kürze.” 97   See Appendix 1: Text and Transmission, under Luke 8:44. 98   For the textual variant τοῦ κρασπέδου in Mark 5:27 ( f1 M 33 579 700 pc), an obvious case of harmonization, see Appendix 1: Text and Transmission, under Mark 5:27 and parr. 99   For a discussion of the proto-Mark hypothesis of Delbert Burkett [Rethinking Gospel Sources: From Proto-Mark to Mark (New York: T&T Clark, 2004)], see above, Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction. It seems to me that the instances he mentions in support of his threefold proto-Mark theory [see Table 2.4: Distinctive Markan Uses of πολύς (15f.); Table 2.5 Distinctive Markan Uses of πάλιν (18f.), etc.] can be more easily explained in terms of the argument of awareness of Markan redaction. 100   John M. Rist, On the Independence of Matthew and Mark, SNTSMS 32 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978), 59. 101   Cf. Ralph P. Martin, New Testament Foundations: A Guide for Christian Students, vol. 1: The Four Gospels (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1975, 21985), 204. See on this also Bauckham, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, 155–182 (“The Petrine Perspective in the Gospel of Mark”).

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referred it to their status of well-known citizens in their city.102 Bultmann, on the other hand, saw the naming of Jairus as typical of the tendency in the course of transmission to expand103 and claimed that the name Jairus was secondary, a later interpolation.104 More recently, Richard Bauckham, in line with Augustine, has suggested that, unlike the names of other characters in the miracle stories, the name of Jairus was preserved by Mark because he was a well-known figure in the early Christian movement, and that because this did not seem to be the case when or where Matthew wrote his gospel, the name was dropped.105 It is doubtful, however, whether this helps us any further in the search for pre-Markan material. That Jairus is named, may well be a historical reminiscence, if the name is not used for its suitable meaning.106 That his name was dropped by Matthew can be explained more satisfactorily, in my view, by his christological tendency.107 But as is the case 102   Augustine, Cons. 2.65.125: “hoc et marcus commemorat, sed de uno caeco factum. quae ita soluitur quaestio ut illa soluta est de duobus, qui legionem demonum patiebantur in regione gerasenorum. nam duorum etiam caecorum, quos modo interposuit, unum fuisse notissimum et in illa ciuitate famosissimum ex hoc etiam satis apparet, quod et nomen eius et patris eius marcus commemorauit, quod in tot superius sanatis a domino non facile occurrit, nisi cum iahirum archisynagogum etiam nomine expressit, cuius filiam resuscitauit iesus. in quo etiam magis iste sensus appareat, quia et ille archisynagogus utique in loco illo nobilis fuit. procul dubio itaque bartimeus iste timei filius ex aliqua magna felicitate deiectus notissimae et famosissimae miseriae fuit, quod non solum caecus, uerum etiam mendicus sedebat. hinc est ergo quod ipsum solum uoluit commemorare marcus, cuius inluminatio tam claram famam huic miraculo conparauit, quam erat illius nota calamitas” (CCLLT). 103   Bultmann, Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, 256–257. 104   So also Julius Schniewind, Das Evangelium nach Markus übersetzt und erklärt, NTD 1 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 7.81958), 90: “der Name Jairus wird erst aus Lk. (8,41) in einzelne Texte [in Mark, az] eingedrungen sein.” Also Eberhard Güting in Heinrich Greeven, Textkritik des Markusevangeliums, ed. Eberhard Güting, ThFW 11 (Berlin: LIT, 2005), 36. See the pros and cons in Appendix 1: Text and Transmission, under Mark 5:22. 105    Bauckham, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, 45–46 n.28 and 53, following Robert H. Gundry, Mark: A Commentary on His Apology for the Cross (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1993), 1:267. Building on F.C. Bartlett’s experimental studies in reproductive memory, Baum, Der mündliche Faktor, 248–250, suggests that in oral tradition functions are more important than names and therefore more easily drop out: “Die relative geringe Zahl an Personennamen könnte u.a. daher rühren, daß die Synoptiker, in viel stärkerem Maße als die Apostelgeschichte, das Produkt einer mündlichen Überlieferung waren, für die Funktionen wichtiger sind als Namen” (248). 106   I find Bauckham’s theory that gospel characters are named because they are eyewitnesses and/or major informants rather than mere subjects of (local) interest (Bauckham, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, 39–92), intriguing but in the end unconvincing as a comprehensive explanation. That the most prominent and distinguished narrative characters later on receive names (such as Veronica for the haemorrhaging woman, see below) is a firmly attested transmissional feature. Furthermore, “the plural-to-singular narrative device” (Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, 156–164, see also Table 14 and 15, 181–182) can (also or better) be explained as a Markan redaction marker (providing a bystander’s perspective, “as if”) rather than as an eyewitness or orality marker. 107   See Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction, under Matt 9:18.

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with the other criteria we have reviewed, it is all part of an accumulating argument. That the woman is unnamed is more in line with the gospel tradition and how traditions tend to expand. That she was given a name in later apocryphal traditions – the most common name is Veronica (Gr. Βερνίκη),108 a few other sources call her Mariosa, and Celsus allegedly thought her name was Prunicos109 – is what is to be expected in the long run, if only to satisfy the curiosity of a typical audience. There can be little doubt that the name Mariosa or Mariossa derives from “haemorrhoissa.” Bauckham refers to “two medieval testimonies to the Gospel of the Nazarenes [in which] the woman with a hemorrhage (Matt 9:20; Mark 5:25; Luke 8:43) is named Mariosa,” but he does not think that this name “can be reliably attributed to the Gospel used by the Nazarenes in the early centuries.”110 Bauckham depends for his judgement on the revised English translation of Schneemelcher and Wilson,111 where reference is made to an article by Bernhard Bischoff, who cites an anonymous 8th-9th century commentary on Matthew (Würzburg, M. p. th. fol. 61), and a commentary on Luke (MS Clm. 6235 fol. 55v).112 These references, still found in the sixth German edition of NTApo,113 have not been adopted in the new edition of Markschies and Schröter.114 However, an older (sixth-century) witness to the woman’s name as Mariosa is found in Theodosius, De situ terrae sanctae: “inde [= the Jordan area] fuit mulier, quam domnus christus liberauit de fluxu sanguinis, nomen ipsius mulieris mariosa. ibi est statua domni electrina, quam ipsa mariosa fecit” (CSEL 39:138; CLCLT). The reference to a statue recalls the tradition or rumour preserved by Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 7.17.115

  Gos. Nic. 7.1. On the Veronica legend, see Klaus Unterburger, “Veronika, die heilige. I. Kirchengeschichtlich,” RGG4 (2005), 8:1046. 109   Origen, Cels. 6.35.5; ed. Miroslav Marcovich, Origenes: Contra Celsum VIII Libros, SVigChr 54 (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 411; trans. ANF 4:589: “The adherents of Valentinus … in keeping with their system of error, give the name of Prunicos (Προυνικόν) to a certain kind of wisdom, of which they would have the woman inflicted with the twelve years’ issue of blood to be the symbol (ἧς σύμβολον εἶναι βούλονται καὶ δώδεκα ἔτεσιν αἱμοῤῥοοῦσαν); so that Celsus, who confuses together all sorts of opinions – Greek, Barbarian, and Heretical – having heard of her (ἣν παρακούσας), asserted that it was a power flowing forth from one Prunicos, a virgin (Προυνικοῦ τινος δύναμιν ῥέουσαν παρθένου).” The name Προύνικος is most likely a corruption of πορνικός. 110   Bauckham, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses, 44. 111  Wilhelm Schneemelcher and R.McL. Wilson, New Testament Apocrypha, vol. 1: Gospels and Related Writings (Revised Edition; Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1991), 163. 112  Bernhard Bischoff, “Wendepunkte in der Geschichte der lateinischen Exegese im Frühmittelalter,” SacEr 6 (1954): 252 and 262. 113  Philipp Vielhauer and Georg Strecker, “Das Nazaräerevangelium,” in Neutestamentliche Apokryphen in deutscher Übersetzung, vol. 1: Evangelien, ed. Edgar Hennecke and Wilhelm Schneemelcher (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1904, 61999), 137. 114   See Jörg Frey, “Die Fragmente des Nazoräerevangeliums,” in Antike christliche Apo­k ry­ phen in deutscher Übersetzung, vol. 1/1: Evangelien und Verwandtes, ed. Christoph Markschies and Jens Schröter (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), 623–648. 115   See below, Appendix 3: Reception and Wirkung. 108

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9. The Criterion of Increasing Complexity Whereas the older form critics were divided on the question whether oral transmission was in the direction of expansion and growth or in the direction of abbreviation – Bultmann defended the former,116 Vincent Taylor the latter117 – orality researchers will give a more nuanced answer: it all depends on the context of the performance and the audience in view. Kelber points to the facts of preventive censorship and auditory amnesia,118 but opposite forces also seem to be at work (cf. Ong’s notion of redundancy or “copiousness”).119 It is a mistake, at any rate, to think that oral transmission by definition is much simpler and less complex than textual transmission and develops in a single linear direction. In some cases verbal and syntactical complexity may be an indicator of an oral background. In Proclaiming the Gospel Whitney Shiner explains why: We cannot know for certain whether the Gospel was written before it was performed or whether the written Gospel is a record of a preexisting oral narrative. (...) I think it is much more likely that the Gospel of Mark developed through repeated oral performance. It has an unnecessarily complex structure for a written narrative, where we might expect a more simple linear development (...) It is much easier to produce a narrative like the Gospel of Mark if one has twenty or thirty performances in which to test out different approaches.120

This may well provide a plausible explanation for the surprisingly complex sentence structure of the pericope of the haemorrhaging woman in comparison with the relatively simpler Jairus sections,121 and perhaps even provide corroborative evidence for the hypothesis that this part of the episode has a different tradition history than the section on Jairus’s daughter.

  Bultmann, Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, passim.   Vincent Taylor, The Formation of the Gospel Tradition: Eight Lectures (London: Macmillan, 1933, 21935), 121–126, and his Appendix B: “The Tendencies of Oral Transmission” (202–209). Taylor’s judgement was followed by Ernest L. Abel, “The Psychology of Memory and Rumor Transmission and Their Bearing on Theories of Oral Transmission in Early Christianity,” JR 51 (1971): 275–276: “[S]tudies of rumor transmission indicate that as information is transmitted, the general form or outline of a story remains intact, but fewer words and fewer original details are preserved” (italics original). Abel appeals among others to the work of Jan Vansina [Oral Tradition as History; idem, Oral Tradition: A Study in Historical Methodology, trans. from the French by H.M. Wright; with a New Preface by the Author and a New Introduction by Selma Leydesdorff and Elizabeth Tonkin [orig. 1961] (New Brunswick, NJ: Aldine Transaction, 2006/2009)]. 118   Kelber, Oral and Written Gospel, 29. 119   Ong, Orality and Literacy, 39–41. 120   Shiner, Proclaiming the Gospel, 121. 121   See above, Chapter 3: Tradition and Redaction. 116 117

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10. The Absence of Acclamation In Chapter 3 (Form and Structure) we noted the absence of a formal acclamation in the episode of the haemorrhaging woman – there is no audience response to the action performed by Jesus, no praise of God for what had happened. This contrasts with what we find for example in Luke 7:16 (λέγοντες ὅτι προφήτης μέγας ἠγέρθη ἐν ἡμῖν καὶ ὅτι ἐπεσκέψατο ὁ θεὸς τὸν λαὸν αὐτοῦ). Gerd Theissen’s general suggestion that a lack of acclamation may be evidence of an original oral setting may well be on target in the present case.122 The original audience listening to the story would most naturally have performed an acclamation on the spot. Depending on the way the story was told in a specific context with a specific audience present, the response could vary per performance or got lost when the story was adopted in a larger literary context, as seems to be the case here. 11. Evidence from the Episode’s Post-History A final issue to be tackled. It has been often argued that while, from a narrative-critical perspective, the incident with the woman plays an essential role in the plot-development of the Jairus episode as we now have it in Mark and Luke, the woman’s story does not need the surrounding context of Jairus; it can well be understood without reference to the present literary context. However, there is reason for doubt. When we studied the form-critical constituency of the two episodes in Chapter 3 (Structure and Form), we concluded that both episodes were relatively complete stories in themselves, apart form the lack of acclamation in the section on the haemorrhaging woman. Evidence that the episode of the healing of the haemorrhaging woman could and did in fact circulate as an independent story (that is, not embedded in the Jairus episode) can be found in the earliest reception history, in such sources as the Epistle to the Apostles, the Gospel of Nicodemus, the Anaphora Pilati, and Eusebius.123 Some sources link the healing of the woman not with   Theissen, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten, 163–172.   Ep. Apos. 5.17–21: “Then there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee. And he was invited with his mother and his brothers. And he made water into wine and awakened the dead and made the lame to walk; for him whose hand was withered, he stretched it out again, and the woman who suffered twelve years from a haemorrhage touched the edge of his garment and was immediately whole; and while we reflected and wondered concerning the miracle he performed, he said to us, “Who touched me?” And we said to him, “O Lord, the crowd of people touched you.” And he answered and said to us, “I noticed that a power went out from me.” Immediately that woman came before him, answered, and said to him, “Lord, I touched you.” And he answered and said to her, “Go, your faith has made you whole” [trans. J. Keith Elliott, The Apocryphal New Testament: A Collection of Apocryphal Christian Literature in an English Translation (Oxford: Clarendon, 1993), 559–560]; Gos. Nic. 7.1: “A certain woman named Bernice cried out from the distance, ‘I had a flow of blood (αἱμορροοῦσα ἤμην), and I touched the hem of his garment (ἡψάμην τοῦ κρασπέδου τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ), and the flow of 122 123

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Jairus’s daughter but with the (more spectacular and less ambivalent?) raising of Lazarus (John 11:1–44).124

F. Conclusion That the story of the raising of Jairus’s daughter and the healing of the haemorrhaging woman has been recounted numerous times in an oral setting, both before and after the gospel writers committed their versions to writing and published them, cannot be seriously questioned. However, attempts to define its (their) content(s) or even its (their) general contours have only been partially successful. The quest for (oral) sources behind the written gospel stories is surrounded by methodological complexities and uncertainties. This is to a large extent due to the nature of the quest, the scarcity of sources and the relatively young age of orality scholarship. Perhaps over time more assured results will emerge. But for the present we need to be reticent.125 Studies in orality and performance criticism force us to (re)consider the degree of cerblood I had for twelve years was stopped (ἡ ῥύσις τοῦ αἵματος ἡ δι᾽ ἐτῶν δώδεκα).’ The Jews said, ‘We have a law that a woman may not serve as a witness’” [text and trans. Bart D. Ehrman and Zlato Pleše, The Apocryphal Gospels: Texts and Translations (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 438–439]; Ep. Pil. (Anaphora Pilati) 4: “There was also a woman who had experienced a flow of blood (γυναῖκα αἱμορροοῦσαν) for many years; this discharge of blood was so severe that her entire skeletal frame was visible and was as transparent as glass. No doctor could heal her; she was written off as a hopeless case. For she indeed had no hope of finding a cure. But once Jesus was passing by she touched the hem of his garments from behind (ἥψατο ὄπισθεν τοῦ κρασπέδου τῶν ἱματίων αὐτοῦ), and at that very instant the vigor of her body was restored, and she became well, as if she had nothing wrong with her. And she began to run at full speed back to her city, Paneas” (text and trans. Ehrman and Pleše, The Apocryphal Gospels, 496–497). Cf. Eusebius, Hist. eccl. 7.17.1–3: “[T]hey say that she who had an issue of blood (τὴν αἱμορροοῦσαν), and who, as we learn from the sacred Gospels, found at the hands of our Saviour relief from her affliction, came from this place [= Caesarea Philippi], and that her house was pointed out in the city, and that marvellous memorials of the good deed, which the Saviour wrought upon her, still remained. For [they said] that there stood on a lofty stone at the gates of her house a brazen figure in relief of a woman, bending on her knee and stretching forth her hands like a suppliant, while opposite to this there was another of the same material, an upright figure of a man, clothed in comely fashion in a double cloak and stretching out his hand to the woman; at his feet on the monument itself a strange species of herb was growing, which climbed up to the border of the double cloak of brass, and acted as an antidote to all kinds of diseases. This statue, they said, bore the likeness of Jesus (...)” [text and trans. J.E.L. Oulton and H.J. Lawlor, Eusebius: The Ecclesiastical History II, LCL 265 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1932/1980), 174–177. 124   See further below, Appendix 3: Reception and Wirkung. 125   Arguments in favour of orality can often be turned around to support scribality, so e.g. Charles H. Talbert, “Oral and Independent or Literary and Interdependent? A Response to Albert B. Lord,” in The Relationships among the Gospels, ed. William O. Walker, 93–102.

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titude that we demand from our hypothetical reconstructions. Some speculation seems unavoidable. This is the only way to proceed if we want to probe the history of origins of the text. History simply is not mathematics. Based on our analysis in this and the previous chapters, we now may draw the following conclusions. First, the Markan version demonstrates the highest number of orality markers. Both Matthew and Luke demonstrate a higher degree of literacy, i.e. they have a more outspoken literary mindset. While all three can be said to be “authors,” the residual impact of story-tellers is most clearly visible in Mark’s version. This concurs with the redaction-critical conclusions we reached in Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction. Second, our investigation has corroborated the conclusion that Mark was not the first to tell the story of the haemorrhaging woman, and probably not the first to tell the story of Jairus and his daughter. Whether he was the first to combine the two stories is impossible to decide. A definitive answer may be forever lost in the mists of history. Third, as regards the stories as we now have them, the traditional differences and contradictions may well fall within what was seen as an acceptable degree of flexibility. If both Jewish and Graeco-Roman tradition leave much room for traditioning conflicting versions of the way some people died (as, e.g., in the cases of Callisthenes, the traitor of Alexander the Great, and Judas Iscariot),126 differences in timing can only be deemed to be of minor significance, especially so when different narrative strategies are at work. Finally, by way of summary, recognizing the need for methodical restraint, I find it likely that the story of the raising of Jairus’s daughter and the episode of the healing of the haemorrhaging woman were part of the Jesus tradition already in its oral (Aramaic) stage of transmission, probably so as two separate stories. At some point before Mark composed his gospel the two stories merged (either in its Aramaic stage or when it was translated into Greek), undoubtedly due to the common subject-matter (the healing of two female characters associated with a time-span of twelve years) that invited the comparison and intertwining. All in all, although I think I have not proven the existence of an oral tradition before Mark (let alone, offer a reconstruction of it), I have at least sketched a scenario in which this is possible or even plausible. At the present state of biblical orality studies this is at least as much as one can hope for. In the next chapter we will turn back to the gospel texts in their current constituency and analyse the three versions from a narrative-critical perspective. 126   On both, see Arie W. Zwiep, “The Mysterious Death(s) of Judas – A Shakespearean Drama,” in idem, Christ, the Spirit and the Community of God: Essays on the Acts of the Apostles, WUNT 2/293 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 68–76.

Chapter 6

Story and Narrative A. Introduction With the exception of Chapter 3 on structure and form, the synoptic episodes of Jairus’s daughter and the haemorrhaging woman have been approached in this study so far as texts largely disconnected from their literary setting: the chapter on tradition and redaction focused first and foremost on their prehistory and the adaptations the evangelists made to them to suit their purposes; the chapter on orality was also primarily intent on the exploration of possible pre-synoptic stages of transmission. The findings of these chapters now need to be attuned to and complemented by a literary approach, that is, by the study of the texts as literary entities embedded in the larger literary contexts of the respective gospels as compositions by self-conscious authors. The episode under scrutiny is not a theoretical exposé, a philosophical tract or a homily; it is a narrative, a story to be told and/or to be read. In this chapter we will attempt to enter the evangelists’ narrative world and investigate how the stories are told. I will first briefly introduce and describe the various tools narrative critics employ – of necessity in broad strokes only – and then apply them to the three gospel episodes separately to lay bare their individuality and their narrative dynamic.1 It is 1  William A. Beardslee, Literary Criticism of the New Testament, GBS (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1969); Seymour Chatman, Story and Discourse: Narrative Structure in Fiction and Film (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1978); Norman R. Petersen, Literary Criticism for New Testament Critics, GBS (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1978); Umberto Eco, Lector in fabula: La cooperazione interpretativa nei testi narrativi, TBomp 27 (Milan: Bompiani, 1979, 112010); idem, The Role of the Reader: Explorations in the Semiotics of Texts, AdvSem (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1979; FMB Edition 1984), 7–11; Mieke Bal, Narratology: Introduction to the Theory of Narrative (Toronto: Toronto University Press, 1985, 32009); Stephen D. Moore, Literary Criticism and the Gospels: The Theoretical Challenge (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989); Mark A. Powell, What Is Narrative Criticism? A New Approach to the Bible, GBS (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1990; Foreword by N.T. Wright, London: SPCK, 1993); idem, “Narrative Criticism,” in Hearing the New Testament: Strategies for Interpretation, ed. Joel B. Green (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; Carlisle: Paternoster, 1992), 239–255; Dennis L. Stamps, “Rhetorical and Narratological Criticism,” in A Handbook to the Exegesis of the New Testament, ed. Stanley E. Porter, NTTS 25 (Leiden: Brill, 1997/2002), 219–239; Brook W.R. Pearson, “New Testament Literary Criticism,” in Porter, Handbook to the Exegesis of the New Testament, 241– 266; James L. Resseguie, Narrative Criticism of the New Testament: An Introduction (Grand

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only then that we will be in a position to give a balanced, overall assessment of the texts involved. Before proceeding, though, we must provide some basic definitions and clarify some of the assumptions that underlie this chapter to avoid misunderstanding of what narrative criticism might realize or not. Three preliminary remarks are in order: First, narrative criticism concerns the study of (in our case, biblical) stories as forms of communication that affect the hearers and/or readers, or at least attempt to do so. It therefore focuses on the literary shape of the text in its final makeup, i.e. as sent by the author (sender) and received by the hearers and/or readers (receivers), not on its prehistory. It treats the text as much as possible as a unified entity governed by an overarching “point of view” and a persuasive technique. Second, in the classic (diachronic) methods of biblical exegesis applied in the previous chapters (form, redaction and tradition criticism) the biblical texts were treated as documents originating from a first-century Mediterranean milieu and as documents with a history behind them, that is, as documents with obvious historical, chronological and geographical constraints. However, literary texts are not normally read for historical or antiquarian purposes but rather for literary, ideological or practical purposes or as many more as there are.2 Narrative criticism is not historical criticism and therefore requires a different albeit supplementary (synchronic) approach.3

Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005). For the wider hermeneutical questions involved, see Arie W. Zwiep, Tussen tekst en lezer: Een historische inleiding in de bijbelse hermeneutiek, 2 vols. (Amsterdam: VU University Press, 2013, 32018), 2:224–244. 2   To give just one example: the Dutch national anthem, “Het Wilhelmus,” contains numerous references to historical persons and events of the distant past (William of Orange’s conflict with the Spanish in the sixteenth century), but no one sings the song just to reiterate the brute facts of history or to tell his or her own personal history: it is a bit awkward to hear team members of the national soccer team sing that they are “van Duitse (Dutch) bloed” (of Dutch offspring) and that they have “always honoured the king of Spain,” as the song wants us to have it. The song is sung for its community-building and identity-strengthening effects (“bonding”), not for the conveyance of historical knowledge. 3   The distinction between synchrony and diachrony was already made by Ferdinand de Saussure, Cours de linguistique générale, publié par Charles Bally, Albert Séchehaye, avec la collaboration de Albert Riedlinger; édition critique préparée par Tullio de Mauro; postface de Louis-Jean Calvet (Paris: Payot & Rivages, [1916] 2005), 114–140, 141–192 (“Linguistique synchronique”), 193–250 (“Linguistique diachronique”). It underlies James Barr’s attack on the “etymological fallacy” in The Semantics of Biblical Language (London: SCM, 1961), and is applied to New Testament exegesis by Anthony C. Thiselton in his “Semantics and New Testament Interpretation” (1977), repr. as “Semantics Serving Hermeneutics: ‘Semantics and New Testament Interpretation,’” in Thiselton on Hermeneutics: The Collected Works and New Essays of Anthony C. Thiselton, Ashgate Contemporary Thinkers on Religion, Collected Works (Ashgate: Aldershot, 2006), 191–215.

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Third, in narrative criticism it is essential to make a distinction between the world of the text (or the world in the text) and the real world.4 Largely depending on the genre of the text under investigation, the anchorage of a text to the real world may be strong, as may be expected from a historical monograph or an eyewitness report, or weak, as in the case of a historical novel. Or it may lack an immediate link with real life altogether, as in fiction such as Tolkien’s The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings or C.S. Lewis’s Narnia Tales. The challenge for narrative critics is to take the world of the text, at least momentarily, as the real world, unconcerned with everything which distracts them from dwelling around in this particular story world. As New Testament literary critic Mark Powell put it aptly: Normative reading involves an implicit contract by which the reader agrees to accept the dynamics of the story world that are established by the implied author. If a story features talking animals, we are expected to suspend our disbelief and to accept that, in this story, that is the way things are. In the story world of Luke’s Gospel, God speaks audibly from heaven, fantastic miracles are commonplace, and human beings interact freely with spiritual creatures like angels and demons. Narrative criticism opposes any attempt to “demythologize” such elements by determining what actual historical occurrences might have inspired these tales. Rather, the expected effects of the story can only be determined if we adopt the perspective of readers who accept these and other elements of the story as real, at least as “real” within the world of the story.5

Readiness to enter the world of the story, then, implies a (temporary) suspension of disbelief and a willingness to be carried away as it were by what happens in the narrative.6 In this respect a narrative approach is diametrically opposed to the objectives of historical criticism: Whereas historical critics are expected to suspend faith commitments temporarily in order to interpret texts from the perspective of objective, disinterested historians, narrative critics may be expected to adopt faith commitments temporarily in order to determine how texts are expected to affect their implied readers.7

Thus, knowing whether or not the historical Jesus ever performed healing miracles or raised people from the dead, or whether there ever was a historical figure named Jairus, is inessential for a narrative approach. What suffices is the simple recognition that in this particular narrative world this is apparently how things are. Whether that is in accord with what happened in reality is a historical (or philosophical), not a literary, question, and thus 4   Esp. in the work of Paul Ricoeur, see e.g. his Temps et récit, 3 vols., Points (Paris: Seuil, 1983), and idem, Du texte à l’action: Essais d’herméneutique II, Points 377 (Paris: Seuil, 1986/1998). For a wider discussion, see Zwiep, Tussen tekst en lezer, 2:291–327, esp. 306–309, 314–321. 5   Powell, “Narrative Criticism,” 243. 6  Wolfgang Iser, Der Akt des Lesens: Theorie ästhetischer Wirkung, UTB 636 (Tübingen: Fink, 1976, 21984), 227, speaks of “zeitweilige Isolierung von unserer realen Welt.” 7   Powell, “Narrative Criticism,” 244.

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requires a historical, not a literary, method, informed by evidence external to the narrative.8 Narrative criticism comes in from a different angle.

B. Narrative-Critical Tools and Categories 1. The Implied Author/Narrator Although a text is always composed by a real flesh-and-blood author, knowledge of the identity of the historical or real author is not always relevant for an adequate understanding of what the text is about. When the author committed his thoughts to writing he assumed a certain role by presenting himself in a certain way. The implied author is the author as he or she manifests herself in the text, as the authoritative voice in the background, so to speak. It is a perspective assumed by the real author as, for example, the author of Ecclesiastes assumed the role of King Solomon or the author(s) of the Petrine epistles assumed the role of the apostle Peter.9 The implied author arranges the plot, narrates the story, and passes judgements on events and characters in the story. His profile has to be inferred from the text by the reader, ideally as much as possible without external information from the real author’s biography or from his alleged sources. After all, had the author deemed this information pertinent to the story he would have included it one way or another. Very often, then, the implied author is far more relevant to narrative exegesis than the real (often unknown or inaccessible) author, at least for a certain type of texts, and this is certainly true of the gospels.10 The narrator is the person in the text who tells the story.11 As the storyteller of the narrative he or she not only mediates the story but also controls it. Often the figure of the narrator overlaps with the implied author, but not always and not by definition. An unreliable narrator, for instance, need not   Cf. Norman R. Petersen, “‘Point of View’ in Mark’s Narrative,” Semeia 12 (1978): 113–115.   This, of course, is a matter of dispute. However, whether or not the historical Peter is the actual author of the epistles, the author does assume the role of Peter as the implied author (1 Pet 1:1; 2 Pet 1:1), and expects his readers to read the epistles as if they had been composed by the apostle Peter or stem from traditions associated with him. See Paul J. Achtemeier, 1 Peter, Hermeneia (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996), 39–43; John H. Elliott, I Peter: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AYB 37B (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000), 118–130. 10   On the implied author, see Wayne C. Booth, The Rhetoric of Fiction (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1961, 21983). For some types of text (e.g. a will, a private letter, a testimony), knowledge of the identity of the real author is indispensable; for other types (e.g. narrative literature, prose) it is not (or not always). See on this Anthony C. Thiselton, New Horizons in Hermeneutics: The Theory and Practice of Transforming Biblical Reading (London: HarperCollins; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1992), 237–271. 11   Bal, Narratology, 18–31. 8 9

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convey the point of view of the implied author, whose viewpoint may nonetheless be uncovered by acknowledging the presence of irony, allegory, symbolism and so forth. In Umberto Eco’s famous novel The Name of the Rose (Il nome della rosa, 1980), Eco himself is the real author, while the monk Adson of Melk is the implied author and most of the time the (reliable?) narrator.12 He tells the story of William of Baskerville, whom he served in his youth. In the subsequent narrative various other (reliable and unreliable) narrators are introduced who tell their part of the story so that, in the end, the novel is a multilayered and multiperspectival text that is open to more than one interpretation. Most narrative critics would hold that in the case of the Synoptic Gospels the narrator is identical with the implied author. While a good case can be made for a distinction between Mark’s implied author and the Markan narrator, in the following analysis we will take them together under the category of the implied author/narrator.13 2. The Implied Reader At the other end of the communicative spectrum stands the implied reader. The implied reader (to be distinguished from the real reader) or narratee (the person to whom the story is being told) is the reader that the author had in mind when he composed his work and who meets all his expectations. It is the reader role presupposed in the text. That is, the implied reader responds to the story as s/he should, understands the moves and motives of its characters, knows when the author employs irony, appreciates word plays, recognizes intertextual relations and understands a joke when one is told in the story, even when real readers may not. The implied reader knows more than the actors in the story and thus easily assumes the role of an ideal reader. Like the implied author, the implied reader (or in Eco’s terms: the model reader)14 must be reconstructed from the text.15 Literary critic Stanley Fish defines what he calls the informed reader (a concept which comes close to that of the implied reader) as follows: The informed reader is someone who (1) is a competent speaker of the language out of which the text is built up; (2) is in full possession of “the semantic knowledge that a mature … listener brings to his task of comprehension,” including the knowledge (that is,  Umberto Eco, Il nome della rosa. Postille a ‘Il nome della rosa’, LetIt (Milan: Bompiani, 1980, 1983); idem, The Name of the Rose, trans. William Weaver, Introduction by David Lodge, EvLib (New York: Knopf; London: Random House, 2006). On Eco, see further Zwiep, Tussen tekst en lezer, 2:341–357. 13  See the reservations/critique of the non-distinction by Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, Mark’s Jesus: Characterization as Narrative Christology (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2009), 232–244. She holds that the tension between the narrator and the implied author is even essential to Mark’s narrative Christology. 14   Eco, Lector in fabula, 50–66; idem, Role of the Reader, 7–11. 15   Iser, Akt des Lesens, 50–67. 12

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experience, both as a producer and comprehender) of lexical sets, collocation probabilities, idioms, professional and other dialects, and so on; and (3) has literary competence. That is, he is sufficiently experienced as a reader to have internalized the properties of literary discourses, including everything from the most local of devices (figures of speech, and so on) to whole genres.16

3. Plot (Ordering of the Narration) A story is set into motion by means of plot (ordering of the narration): Plot is the structure of the action of a story, as these actions are meaningfully ordered and rendered toward achieving particular emotional and artistic effects, “the design and ordering of incidents in a narrative or dramatic work.”17 The plot is usually thrust forward by conflict (in the wide sense of the word). The beginning of a story usually introduces the conflict, the end has it resolved, and what is in between gives the story its particular dynamic. Aristotle’s definition of a good story with a well-constructed plot (μῦθος) is classic and worth quoting in full: A whole (ὅλον) is that which has a beginning, middle, and end (ἀρχὴν καὶ μέσον καὶ τελευτήν). A beginning is that which does not itself follow necessarily from something else, but after which a further event or process naturally occurs. An end, by contrast, is that which itself naturally occurs, whether necessarily or usually, after a preceding event, but need not be followed by anything else. A middle is that which both follows a preceding event and has further consequences. Well-constructed plots (τοὺς συνεστῶτας εὖ μύθους), therefore, should neither begin nor end at an arbitrary point, but should make use of the patterns stated.18

In the first half of the twentieth century the Russian formalists had made a very helpful distinction between fabula (the logical sequence of events, a, b, c, d) and plot (or sjuzhet, the order of events as narrated, b, c, a, d).19 If fabula and plot do not correspond, what does that mean for the interpretation of the text? Is there a unity of action? Does the plot move forward slowly or quickly? In what ways does the narrator develop the plot by means of digressions, flashbacks and flashforwards? Is there a climax or an anticlimax to the story? What is the function of unresolved conflict?20  Stanley E. Fish, Is There a Text in This Class? The Authority of Interpretive Communities (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1980), 48 (his italics). On Fish, see further Zwiep, Tussen tekst en lezer, 2:357–363, and the literature cited there. 17   Edward Quinn, A Dictionary of Literary and Thematic Terms, Wrister’s Library (New York: Checkmark Books, 1999/2000), 248 (= DLTT). See (very helpful) Bal, Narratology, 79– 98, on “Sequential Ordering.” 18   Aristotle, Poet. 7:1450b (Halliwell, LCL 199:54–55). 19   See, e.g. Boris V. Tomachevski, in Théorie de la littérature: Textes des Formalistes russes, réunis, présentés et traduits par Tzvetan Todorov. Préface de Roman Jakobson, Points 457 (Paris: Seuil, 1965, 22001), 271–286; Eco, Lector in fabula, 102–110; idem, The Role of the Reader, 27–31. 20  David Rhoads, Joanna Dewey, and Donald Michie, Mark as Story: An Introduction to 16

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4. Motifs and Theme A motif is a theme, character, or verbal pattern which recurs in a work of literature. A well-developed motif helps to catch the mood or atmosphere of a work and is subservient to the purpose of the entire work. In a brief but stimulating article literary critic William Freedman has given the following definition of a literary motif: A motif … is a recurrent theme, character, or verbal pattern, but it may also be a family or associational cluster of literal or figurative references to a given class of concepts or objects, whether it be animals, machines, circles, music, or whatever. It is generally symbolic – that is, it can be seen to carry a meaning beyond the literal one immediately apparent; it represents on the verbal level something characteristic of the structure of the work, the events, the characters, the emotional effects or the moral or cognitive content. It is presented both as an object of description and, more often, as part of the narrator’s imagery and descriptive vocabulary. And it indispensably requires a certain minimal frequency of recurrence and improbability of appearance in order both to make itself at least subconsciously felt and to indicate its purposiveness. Finally, the motif achieves its power by an appropriate regulation of that frequency and improbability, by its appearance in significant contexts, by the degree to which the individual instances work together toward a common end or ends and, when it is symbolic, by its appropriateness to the symbolic purpose or purposes it serves. 21

Freedman has argued that frequency and avoidability are indispensable to the establishment of a motif, in other words, “members of the family of references should occur often enough to indicate that purposiveness rather than merely coincidence or necessity is at least occasionally responsible for their presence,” 22 and that their use or appearance is not demanded by the context in which they appear. To measure the effectiveness of a motif, Freedman calls on five criteria: (1) frequency, (2) avoidability, (3) occurrence in significant contexts, (4) coherency, and (5) symbolic appropriateness.23 Such a literary motif may emerge in a larger field of literature, but it may also be employed in a single work.24 This rather strict definition of a literary motif will serve as a heuristic tool and will help to avoid the further intricacies involved in defining matters more precisely by demarcating boundaries to related areas the Narrative of a Gospel (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1982, 32012), 73–98; Resseguie, Narrative Criticism, 197–240 (“Plot”). 21    William Freedman, “The Literary Motif: A Definition and Evaluation,” Novel 4 (1971): 123–124. See also M.H. Abrams and Geoffrey Galt Harpham, A Glossary of Literary Terms (Boston: Wadsworth Cengage Learning, [1957] 92009), 205 s.v. “motif and theme”; Resseguie, Narrative Criticism, 45–47 (on motif and theme); James M. Morgan, “How Do Motifs Endure and Perform? Motif Theory for the Study of Biblical Narratives,” RevBib 122 (2015): 194–216. 22   Freedman, “Literary Motif,” 126. 23   Freedman, “Literary Motif,” 126–127. 24   Dennis J. Horton, Death and Resurrection: The Shape and Function of a Literary Motif in the Book of Acts (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2009), has used Freedman’s definition to investigate the motif of death and resurrection in the Book of Acts. See my review in RBL 05/2012.

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(theme, leitmotif, topic, subject, thesis, symbol, metaphor, etc.). It furthermore effectively helps to avoid the question whether a modern definition is apt to interpret an ancient text (e.g., why not use a classical definition) and instead allows the interpreter to go straight to the analysis of the text. 5. Rhetoric In order to persuade the reader of his viewpoint, an author employs rhetorical strategies. In rhetoric, the art of persuasion, the narrative critic seeks to identify the rhetorical devices that the author uses to narrate his story and make his point. He may look for figures of speech (parallelisms, antitheses, inclusions, chiasms, rhetorical questions, and so on) and figures of thought (similes, metaphors, double entendre, irony, and so on).25 By what patterns is the story told? What themes does the narrator introduce and employ in this story? Does he develop those themes? Here the critic must not only identify the rhetorical features in the story, such as structural markers, repetition, foreshadowings and retrospections, type-scenes, themes, chiastic structures, but he must also establish their function and effects. What elements in the story seem to transcend a merely literal understanding (symbolism)?26 What discourse does the author employ to achieve his aims?27 6. Setting Setting concerns the time and place of a narrative and, by extension, the social and political context of the action.28 It is closely related to plot and character and provides not only the backdrop of the story but also generates the atmosphere or mood of the action. What role does geography (spatial setting) play in the movement of the story? What role does time (temporal   See Stanley E. Porter, ed., Handbook of Classical Rhetoric in the Hellenistic Period 330 400 (Leiden: Brill, 1997); R. Dean Anderson, Glossary of Greek Rhetorical Terms Connected to Methods of Argumentation, Figures and Tropes From Anaximenes to Quintilian, CBET 24 (Leuven: Peeters, 2000). On irony, see Resseguie, Narrative Criticism, 67–75. 26   Rhoads, Dewey, and Michie, Mark as Story, 39–62 (“The Narrator”); Resseguie, Narrative Criticism, 41–86 (“Rhetoric”). 27  Cf. Zwiep, Tussen tekst en lezer, 2:380–381 (on Michel Foucault) 28  Cf. DLTT 316–317. See in particular Gerd Theissen, Soziologie der Jesusbewegung: Ein Beitrag zur Entstehungsgeschichte des Urchristentums, TEH 194 (Munich: Kaiser, 1977, 41985); Bruce J. Malina, The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1979, 21993); Richard A. Horsley, Sociology and the Jesus Movement (New York: Crossroad, 1989); Susan R. Garrett, “Sociology (Early Christianity),” ABD 6 (1992): 89–99; Ekkehard W. Stegemann and Wolfgang Stegemann, The Jesus Movement: A Social History of Its First Century, trans. O.C. Dean (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1999); Bruce J. Malina, “Social Levels, Morals and Daily Life,” in vol. 1 of The Early Christian World, ed. Philip F. Esler (London: Routledge, 2000), 369–400; Wolfgang Stegemann, “Sozialgeschichtsschreibung II. Biblisch,” TRE 31 (2000), 531–535. 25

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setting) play in the movement of the story? What role do the social relationships and the cultural milieu (social setting) play? What about the architectural setting (towns, houses, buildings, rooms)? What is the role of props in the story? Are they just background material or do they contribute more substantially to the action?29 7. Characters and Characterization This is about the way characters are depicted and function in the story.30 Flat characters, usually the minor figures in the story, are predictable persons that remain fairly unchanged in the story (for instance, the Pharisees in the gospel narratives). Round characters usually change in the course of events in response to what takes place in the story.31 We learn of the characters in the story from their actions, from their speech, and from what others tell about them. Who are the main characters in the story? How does the narrator characterize them? Who are identification figures? What are they saying and doing and how do they interact with other characters in the story? The protagonist is the leading or principal figure in a story or a drama, usually the hero and/or an identification figure, the one through whose perspective we follow most of the action. The antagonist is the person who opposes and actively competes with the protagonist; he is an adversary or a villain. Stories may have more than one protagonist and antagonist. 8. Intertextuality Texts are neither written nor read in a vacuum; they are neither autonomous nor self-contained. Immersed in a complex network of meaning, they are part of a “sign-ifying” world.32 Texts build on other texts (already for the simple reason that an author employs words that are not his individual property), which in turn build on yet other texts, so that the attuned reader does not hear an individual voice but a variety of voices in the text. The study of intertextuality seeks to map out this phenomenon and lay bare 29   Rhoads, Dewey, and Michie, Mark as Story, 63–72; Resseguie, Narrative Criticism, 87–120 (“Setting”). 30  Bal, Narratology, 112–133. 31   Rhoads, Dewey, and Michie, Mark as Story, 99–136; Resseguie, Narrative Criticism, 121–165 (“Character”). 32   See Julia Kristeva, Σημειωτικὴ: Recherches pour une sémanalyse, Points 96 (Paris: Seuil, 1969/1978); Eco, Lector in fabula; idem, The Role of the Reader (cf. the notion of unlimited semiosis); idem, The Limits of Interpretation, AdvSem (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990; FMB Edition 1994); Richard B. Hays, Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989), esp. 1–33; Stefan Seiler et al. “Intertextualität,” in Lexikon der Bibelhermeneutik: Begriffe – Methoden – Theorien – Konzepte, ed. Oda Wischmeyer, de Gruyter Studium (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2009/2013), 300–306; Jutta Krispenz et al., “Zitat,” in Lexikon der Bibelhermeneutik, 689–695; Zwiep, Tussen tekst en lezer, 2:343–345.

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the many connections there are, such as citations, allusions, and echoes (the categories studied by Richard Hays).33 Recognition of the embeddedness of texts in these larger intertextual structures is part and parcel of the process of understanding. In the case of the gospel stories, intertextual connections can relate to (a) the literary contexts of the gospels themselves, that is Mark-Mark, Matthew-Matthew, and Luke-Luke connections, (b) the Hebrew Bible and/ or the Septuagint, (c) other early Jewish and Christian writings, and (d) other contemporary sources.34 9. Point of View The point of view (“the eye of the camera”) is the way the story is told, the perspective or perspectives established by an author and/or narrator by which the characters, actions, setting, and events which constitute the action are presented to the reader.35 Unmasking the point of view helps to bring out the biases and blind spots of the implied author (e.g. the author of Luke-Acts as a protagonist of Paul). What are the points of view of the different characters in the story? How does the narrator make himself known in the narrative? How does he guide or manipulate the reading process? What are his interests and what are his blind spots?36 This very brief introduction of a narrative approach and the type of questions that it evokes should be sufficient to approach the synoptic narratives of Jairus and the haemorrhaging woman. To these we now turn, beginning with Mark.

  Hays, Echoes of Scripture.   The marginal annotations in NA28 are a helpful tool to find at least the most obvious interconnections. See below, Appendix 2: Text and Intertext. References (no./ nos.) refer to the numbered lists in the appendix. 35   Abrams and Harpham, Glossary, 271–276. Cf. Iser, Akt des Lesens, 161–174, on “Textperspektiven” and “Perspektivenwechsel.” See also Bal, Narratology, 145–165. She prefers the term “focalization.” 36   Rhoads, Dewey, and Michie, Mark as Story, 43–45; Powell, What Is Narrative Criticism, 23–25; Resseguie, Narrative Criticism, 167–196 (“Point of View”). 33

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C. Narrative Analysis of Mark 5:21–43 In recent years, much narrative-critical work has been done on the Gospel of Mark as a whole,37 and on our pericope (5:21–43) in particular.38 Building on this work, we will now review the story of Jairus and the haemorrhaging woman armed with the tools and categories discussed above. Different from the procedure in the previous chapters, I will not split up the discussion of the text in three parts but treat each gospel story as a unified whole, taking the intercalation as an essential narrative feature of the episode as it is now. 1. The Implied Author/Narrator The implied author of Mark is an external, not a character-bound narrator: he does not physically participate in the story but tells the story from a certain distance.39 According to Rhoads, Michie and Dewey, pioneers in the narrative study of Mark’s Gospel, the role of the implied author or narrator in Mark can be described as follows: Mark’s narrator is a third person narrator who does not figure as a character in the events of the story world. Such a narrator is not bound by time or space and is therefore able to be an implied, invisible presence in every scene, capable of being anywhere to “recount” the action. Mark’s narrator is also fully omniscient, showing inside views of the thoughts, feelings, and perceptions of the characters. Sometimes the narrator turns from the story to give “asides” to the readers and is thereby also able to guide the readers by giving them privileged information.40

37  E.g. Rhoads, Dewey, and Michie, Mark as Story; Petersen, “Point of View,” 97–121; Jack Dean Kingsbury, Conflict in Mark: Jesus, Authority, Disciples (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1989); Jerry Camery-Hoggatt, Irony in Mark’s Gospel: Text and Subtext, SNTSMS 72 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992); Struthers Malbon, Mark’s Jesus; Bärbel Bosenius, Der literarische Raum des Markusevangeliums, WMANT 140, NeuTh (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2014). 38   E.g. Charles W. Hedrick, “Miracle Stories as Literary Compositions: The Case of Jairus’ Daughter,” PRSt 20 (1993): 217–233; Dagmar Oppel, Heilsam erzählen—erzählend heilen: Die Heilung der Blutflüssigen und die Erweckung der Jairustochter in Mk 5,21–43 als Beispiel markinischer Erzählfertigkeit, BBB 102 (Weinheim: Beltz Athenäum, 1995); Normand Bonneau, “Jesus and Human Contingency in Mark: A Narrative-Critical Reading of Three Healing Stories,” Thf 32 (2001): 321–340; idem, “Suspense in Mark 5:21–43: A Narrative Study of Two Healing Stories,” Thf 36 (2005): 131–154; Marie-Christine Chou, “Parole et silence, chemins de foi: Une lecture de Mc 5,21–43 selon la méthode narrative,” BLE 4 (2011): 363–389; Werner Kahl, “Glauben lässt Jesu Wunderkraft heilsam überfließen (Die Tochter des Jairus und die blutflüssige Frau) – Mk 5,21–43,” in Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen, vol. 1: Die Wunder Jesu, ed. Ruben Zimmermann (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 2013), 278–293; Stephen B. Hatton, “Comic Ambiguity in the Markan Healing Intercalation (Mark 5:21–43),” Neot 49 (2015): 91–123. 39   Bal, Narratology, 21 (an external narrator does not figure in the fabula as a narrator). 40   Rhoads, Dewey, and Michie, Mark as Story, 40.

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This general characterization of Mark’s narrator fits in well with what we find in the present pericope. Throughout the story the implied author or narrator speaks in third person and is indeed “an invisible presence in every scene,” from the start at the sea shore to the entrance into the girl’s room and everything in between.41 He is “fully omniscient, showing inside views of the thoughts, feelings, and perceptions” of his characters, not only in the narration mode, but also (and especially) in his comments and asides. More specifically, he provides background details and inside information that are not readily available to the actors in the story, such as the medical history of the woman (vv. 25–27 οὖσα ἐν ῥύσει αἵματος δώδεκα ἔτη καὶ πολλὰ παθοῦσα ὑπὸ πολλῶν ἰατρῶν καὶ δαπανήσασα τὰ παρ᾽ αὐτῆς πάντα καὶ μηδὲν ὠφεληθεῖσα ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον εἰς τὸ χεῖρον ἐλθοῦσα, ἀκούσασα περὶ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ, “She had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus.”),42 her healing experience (v. 29 ἔγνω τῷ σώματι ὅτι ἴαται ἀπὸ τῆς μάστιγος, “she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease”), Jesus’s awareness that power had gone forth from him (v. 30 εὐθὺς ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἐπιγνοὺς ἐν ἑαυτῷ τὴν ἐξ αὐτοῦ δύναμιν ἐξελθοῦσαν, “Jesus was immediately aware that power had gone forth from him”), his ensuing search for a female person in the crowd [v. 32 περιεβλέπετο ἰδεῖν τὴν τοῦτο ποιήσασαν, “he looked around to see (the woman) who had done it”],43 the woman’s subsequent emotions after her discovery (v. 33 φοβηθεῖσα καὶ τρέμουσα, εἰδυῖα ὃ γέγονεν αὐτῇ, “came in fear and trembling, knowing what had happened to her”), the translation of Jesus’s command to the girl [v. 41 ὅ ἐστιν μεθερμηνευόμενον· τὸ κοράσιον, σοὶ λέγω, ἔγειρε, “which means, Little girl, (I tell you) get up!”],44 41   When I once asked my students to describe the precise locality of the story-teller, some positioned him in the crowd, others at a certain distance from the scene (in the left corner with Jesus and the crowd approaching, other in the right corner, others again had him standing by the side of the road). One student remarked that she was looking down on the event and observed everything a few meters above the crowd. 42   English translations follow nrsv with minor adaptations where necessary. 43   This, it seems to me, is a typical example of what Mieke Bal calls “free indirect discourse” in which actor’s text and narrator’s text interfere (Bal, Narratology, 48–57). In practice, it is almost impossible to distinguish the narrator’s level (Mark) from the actor’s level (Jesus): “When there is text interference, narrator’s text and actor’s text are so closely related that a distinction into narrative levels can no longer be made. The relationship between the narrative levels has exceeded the boundary of maximum intensity” (56). Strictly speaking, moreover, the language situation is unbalanced. Mark (level 1) states that Jesus is looking for a woman (τήν), yet Jesus (level 2) does not explicitly say so. It is Mark who attributes this special knowledge to Jesus or communicates to his readers what is already known to them. 44  Cf. Petersen, “Point of View,” 110: 5:41 (talitha kum) “implies the narrator’s competence in the codes of both worlds … [and] heightens the reader’s dependence on the omniscient narrator.”

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and the information that she was twelve years of age (v. 42 ἦν γὰρ ἐτῶν δώδεκα, “she was twelve years of age”). The implied author makes his presence also known, though more subtly, by what his characters say. The actor’s texts (in direct speech) not only serve to enliven the story but they also establish relationships within the story. This can be found in the following verses: v. 23 (Jairus to Jesus): τὸ θυγάτριόν μου ἐσχάτως ἔχει, ἵνα ἐλθὼν ἐπιθῇς τὰς χεῖρας αὐτῇ ἵνα σωθῇ καὶ ζήσῃ; “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her, so that she may be made well, and live”; v. 28 (haemorrhaging woman to whom? to herself?): ἐὰν ἅψωμαι κἂν τῶν ἱματίων αὐτοῦ σωθήσομαι, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well”; v. 30 (Jesus to the bystanders): τίς μου ἥψατο τῶν ἱματίων; “Who touched my clothes?”; v. 31 (the disciples to Jesus): βλέπεις τὸν ὄχλον συνθλίβοντά σε καὶ λέγεις· τίς μου ἥψατο; “You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, Who touched me?”; v. 34 (Jesus to the woman): θυγάτηρ, ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε· ὕπαγε εἰς εἰρήνην καὶ ἴσθι ὑγιὴς ἀπὸ τῆς μάστιγός σου, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease”; v. 35 (the messengers to Jairus): ἡ θυγάθηρ σου ἀπέθανεν· τί ἔτι σκύλλεις τὸν διδάσκαλον; “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?”; v. 36 (Jesus to Jairus): μὴ φοβοῦ, μόνον πίστευε, “Do not fear, only believe”; v. 39 (Jesus to the crowd of mourners at Jairus’s house): τί θορυβεῖσθε καὶ κλαίετε; τὸ παιδίον οὐκ ἀπέθανεν ἀλλὰ καθεύδει, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead but sleeping”; v. 41 (Jesus to the girl): ταλιθα κουμ, “Thalitha cum.” There is no immediate narrative relationship between Jairus and the haemorrhaging woman. While this may be accidental, from a narrative perspective the communicative divide between Jairus and the woman serves to make tangible the competitive nature of their requests and the dilemma that confronts Jesus: to whom should he extend his salvific action? To Jairus (and ignore the woman’s request) or to the woman (and give up on Jairus’s daughter)? All in all, these observations confirm the judgement of David Rhoads and his co-authors that the Markan narrator is in full control of the whole story. There is little that escapes his control. 2. The Implied Reader In Mark 5:21–43 the expectations of the implied reader are shaped by the literary context of the gospel, which supplies him or her with knowledge that goes beyond that of the main actors in the story.45 First, he or she knows already from 1:41 that the request of Jairus in v. 23 was not unrealistic: the Markan Jesus had already performed a number of healing miracles after all. 45   On the implied reader of Mark, see Robert M. Fowler, “Who is ‘the Reader’ of Mark’s Gospel?” SBLSP 22 (1983): 31–53.

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So the reader probably expects that Jesus will go along with Jairus, will lay his hands on the sick girl and will heal her.46 Second, the implied reader is not unfamiliar with the situation of Jairus and the haemorrhaging woman, given the strikingly similar scenery (a type-scene) in 3:7–10: Jesus (ὁ Ἰησοῦς) departed with his disciples to the sea (τὴν θάλασσαν), and a great multitude (πολὺ πλῆθος) from Galilee followed him; hearing (ἀκούοντες) all that he was doing, they came to him in great numbers … He told his disciples to have a boat ready for him because of the crowd, so that they would not crush him (διὰ τὸν ὄχλον ἵνα μὴ θλίβωσιν αὐτόν); for he had cured many, so that all who had diseases pressed upon him to touch him (ὥστε ἐπιπίπτειν αὐτῷ ἵνα αὐτοῦ ἅψωνται ὅσοι εἶχον μάστιγας) (nrsv).

The scene with the crowd, in other words, provokes an Aha-Erlebnis to the implied reader (great multitude, pressing upon Jesus, touching him) and prepares for a positive expectation of what is to come next. But, contrary to the expectations, this does not happen immediately: the movement of the story is interrupted by the sudden appearance of a bleeding woman: will her intervention be fatal for the dying girl? 3. Plot (Ordering of the Narration) The logical (chronological) sequence of events ( fabula) can be divided up into six narrative units, two of which belong to the narrative past (units 1 and 2),47 the other four to the narrative present (units 3–6), all in all covering a time-span of about twelve years. Narrative past (units 1–2): Unit 1 (a, b, c) – Twelve years ago, a woman fell ill because of haemorrhages (a); she looked in vain for help everywhere (b), until she heard about Jesus and decided to turn to him for help (recent past) (c). From the narrator’s perspective, the beginning of the woman’s illness antedates the public ministry of Jesus. Unit 2 (d, e, f ) – In the recent past (presumably during Jesus’s public ministry), a twelve-year old girl had turned critically ill (d). At some point her father decided to turn to Jesus for help (e) and he left his house to call in Jesus for help ( f ). Narrative present (units 3–6): Unit 3 (g, h, i) – Jesus arrives on the spot and is welcomed by a crowd on the seashore (g). The father finds Jesus and urges him to come with him (h). Jesus and his disciples set out to his house (i). Unit 4 ( j, k, l, m, n) – On the way, the woman finds Jesus and touches him ( j). She is healed instantaneously (k). Jesus realizes that power has gone forth from him (l) and interrogates the bystanders (m). Then Jesus converses with the woman (n). Unit 5 (o, p, q) – At some point between ( f ) and (n) the little    Dieter Lührmann, Das Markusevangelium, HNT 3 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1987), 103.   In Mieke Bal’s terminology, these are “external retroversions” (external to the primary fabula, that is). Bal, Narratology, 89: “External retroversions generally provide indications about the antecedents, the past of the actors concerned, in so far as that past can be relevant for the interpretation of events.” 46 47

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girl dies (o). Messengers are sent to inform Jairus about his daughter’s death (p). Despite the saddening news, Jesus continues his journey (q). Unit 6 (r, s, t, u, v) – Jesus arrives at the house (r), dismisses the crowd (s), and enters the house/the room (t). He raises the girl (u) and gives further instructions (v). The narrator, however, does not relate the events in a strictly chronological order but reorders the sequence. This movement from fabula to plot results in the following plot line: g, h (d, e, f ), i, j (a, b, c), k-v that is, the narrative units 1 (a, b, c) and 2 (d, e, f ) have been integrated in the story as flashbacks (in reverse order). Narrative future – When the story ends (at Jesus’s command not to tell this to anyone and to give the girl something to eat), the timeline stops somewhat abruptly (Mark 5:43). The terminus ad quem does not extend beyond the time of the events narrated. 4. Motifs and Theme Building on Freedman’s definition presented above, it seems safe to say that in Mark 5:21–43 “faith” and “healing/salvation” can be identified as the dominant motifs. These are part of a larger Markan concern to proclaim the gospel of the imminent arrival of the Kingdom of God and Jesus, the Son of God, as its Herald.48 Jesus’s call to πίστις (“faith, trust”) and the woman’s vivid demonstration of it, and the salvation realized in the healing of the woman and the raising of Jairus’s daughter resonate with the larger roles of faith and salvation in Mark.49 On Mark’s conception of salvation, much has been written.50 Especially helpful is Christopher Marshall’s monograph on Faith as a Theme in Mark’s Narrative. Regarding salvation, healing and faith he concludes: 48   On the theology of Mark, see William R. Telford, The Theology of the Gospel of Mark, NTTh (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999); Ferdinand Hahn, Die Vielfalt des Neuen Testaments, vol. 1 of Theologie des Neuen Testaments, Theologiegeschichte des Urchristentums (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2002), 488–517; Ian Howard Marshall, New Testament Theology: Many Witnesses, One Gospel (Downers Grove: IVP, 2004), 57–94; Ulrich Wilckens, Geschichte der urchristlichen Theologie, vol. 1 of Theologie des Neuen Testaments, Neukirchener Theologie (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 2005, 22014), 4:17–10; Frank J. Matera, New Testament Theology: Exploring Diversity and Unity (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2007), 5–25; Udo Schnelle, Theologie des Neuen Testaments, UTB 2917 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2007, 22014), 368–398. 49   On the role of faith in Mark, see Thomas Söding, Glaube bei Markus: Glaube an das Evangelium, Gebetsglaube und Wunderglaube im Kontext der markinischen Basileiatheologie und Christologie, SBB 12 (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1985, 21986); Christopher D. Marshall, Faith as a Theme in Mark’s Narrative, SNTSMS 64 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 90–110. 50   See e.g. H.J. Bernard Combrink, “Salvation in Mark,” in Salvation in the New Testament: Perspectives on Soteriology, ed. Jan G. van der Watt, NovTSup 121 (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 33–66.

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Mark employs σώζειν in healing contexts (3:4; 5:23, 28, 34; 6:56; 10:52) to make two points about Jesus’ ministry. First, by using the term usually associated in the Old Testament with God’s deliverance of his people, he indicates that in Jesus’ healing work we are to see the saving activity of God himself. And secondly, in view of the eschatological and soteriological import of σώζειν elsewhere in the gospel (8:35; 10:26; 13:13, 20; cf. 15:30, 31) and in wider Christian usage, his use of it in the healing narratives implies that the restoration granted to faith goes beyond bodily recovery to effect a more comprehensive salvation, entailing both physical and spiritual wholeness. By placing this term on Jairus’ lips in our story therefore, Mark indicates that the ruler recognised the divine origin and capacity of Jesus’ power to secure full restoration (cf. 5:23).51

As we observed in Chapter 3, the gospel writers’ conception of faith in the context of miracle stories differs from pagan healing stories in that the latter take faith as the result of the healing, whereas the gospel writers and the Jesus tradition understand faith as its precondition. To define the meaning of the phrase “Your faith has saved you” (ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε) more accurately, it may be helpful to undertake (tentatively!) a linguistic-philosophical cause and effect analysis to explore what faith and salvation mean in this particular case (in these particular cases, if we distinguish the three gospel versions) and how these are interrelated. The following interpretations can be distinguished. First, the magical interpretation takes faith as the primary (first-order) cause of the healing (faith as an energetic power), and God and/or Jesus as second-order causes: “Your faith/trust (inner conviction? auto-suggestion?) has saved you.” This interpretation was popular among the English deists and in the eighteenth and nineteenth century in rationalist school of exegesis.52 Second, the theological interpretation (“Your faith/trust in God has saved you”) takes God as first-order cause, and faith as second-order cause. Third, the christological interpretation [“Your faith/trust in me (Jesus) has saved you”] understands Jesus as the first-order cause, and faith as the second-order cause. Fourth, the binitarian (for lack of a better term) interpretation interprets the phrase as “Your faith/trust in God and me (Jesus) has saved you.” Here God and Jesus are taken together as first-order cause, while faith is taken as the secondorder cause. Fifth and finally, as a variation and refinement of the former, the phrase can be taken to mean: “Your faith/trust that God works through me (Jesus) has saved you.” Then God is taken as first-order cause, Jesus as second-order cause and faith as third-order cause. Taken on the level of the gospel compositions, the latter two come probably closest to the intention of the gospel writers.   Marshall, Faith, 96.   See, e.g., Heinrich Eberhard Gottlob Paulus, Das Leben Jesu als Grundlage einer reinen Geschichte des Urchristentums dargestellt etc., 2 vols. (Heidelberg: Winter, 1828), 1:244: “Jesus beruhigt und lobt sie: ‘Daß Du Deiner redlichen Ueberzeugung getreu handelst, dies hat Dich gesund gemacht!’.” 51

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However, an additional note is in order at this point. In her groundbreaking study Roman Faith and Christian Faith, Teresa Morgan has convincingly shown that in the Graeco-Roman world, including the New Testament, πίστις is first and foremost a relational concept, that is, a concept embedded in a relationship structure.53 The πίστις word group expresses “a relationship and a praxis, rather than primarily as a state of the heart and mind with an object.”54 In the New Testament it presupposes notions such as that God is πιστός (to himself, to his people, to Jesus), that Jesus is πιστός to both God and his people, and that the faithful “trust” God and/or Jesus (which presupposes some “beliefs” about them, certain propositions to be true). When in miracle stories πίστις is said to be personal (“your πίστις has saved you”), it is only one aspect of this broader spectrum that comes to expression.55 5. Rhetoric Many rhetorical devices (both forms of speech and forms of thought) have already been identified in Chapter 2 (Text and Translation). Of particular importance in the present context is the use of (verbal and dramatic) irony within the story, that is, the misunderstanding of words and actions of Jesus by people who should have known better.56 Irony is a device for the implied reader to adopt the point of view of the implied author.57 And indeed, irony abounds in the story: the disciples fail to understand the significance of Jesus’s question about who had touched him; the woman seems to think that she can get away with touching Jesus and being healed without his knowledge; the messengers from Jairus’s house do not understand that Jesus is capable of bringing salvation even after the death of their master’s daughter; the bystanders at the house do not understand Jesus’s words about the girl being asleep. As Jerry CameryHoggatt puts it well: “Jesus’ words here may perhaps be understood as a subtle peirastic irony. Of course the girl was ‘dead,’ the whole movement of the story depends upon it. Jesus is not rejecting that notion, but rather is superimposing on it a secondary – or, as Mark sees it, a new primary – frame of reference. Death is not final, not ultimate.”58  Teresa Morgan, Roman Faith and Christian Faith: Pistis and Fides in the Early Roman Empire and Early Churches (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). 54   Morgan, Roman Faith, 348. On Mark, see 348–365. 55   For some critical reflections on her work, see Francis Watson, Mark A. Seifrid and Teresa Morgan, “Quaestiones disputatae,” NTS 64 (2018): 243–261. 56   Quintilian, Inst. 8.6.54–55 (D.A. Russell, LCL 126:456–457), defines irony as follows: “Irony (ironia) or, as people call it, illusio (inlusionem) … is revealed either by delivery, by the character of the speaker, or by the nature of the subject. If any of these is incompatible with the words (verbis dissentit), it is clear that the speech intends something totally different (diversam). For further references, see Anderson, Glossary of Greek Rhetorical Terms, 39–40. 57   Powell, What Is Narrative Criticism, 27–32. 58   Camery-Hoggatt, Irony in Mark’s Gospel, 139–140. Cf., on Markan paradox, also Laura 53

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6. Setting Mark’s spatial settings are by no means merely descriptive.59 Even though there are no place names in the story – these are only to be inferred from the larger narrative context – and the opening scene takes place at an unspecified location on the western side of the lake (τὸ πέραν … παρὰ τὴν θάλασσαν, v. 21), a move from Gentile territory to the Jewish land is implied clearly enough. Having received a mixed response from the inhabitants of the Decapolis (vv. 17, 20), Jesus now sets foot on Jewish soil again: how will his own people respond to his ongoing ministry? Whereas Jesus was rejected by the inhabitants of the Gentile region of the Decapolis, the reader is curious to know whether Jesus will be more readily accepted now that he comes back into Jewish territory. The sea-setting is part of Mark’s conventional type-scene writing. Does the notion of sea (θάλασσα) evoke symbolic associations or is it simply a geographical marker? While the sea (the Sea of Galilee, 1:16) marks the separation between Jewish and Gentile territory, the motif of θάλασσα may well receive special accentuation by the dark, mythical associations of the sea in antiquity. Mythological associations of the sea, including demons, chaos monsters and so on, are usually found in mythological or apocalyptic contexts, but there are enough indications that this also goes for the Markan sea-sceneries.60 At this point of the narrative, the sea is still ambivalent: Jesus has stilled a storm at sea, thus showing his power over the sea (4:35– 41); yet in 5:13 the sea becomes the home of the unclean spirits, while in 6:47–52 Jesus, again, shows his power over the sea. The crowd around Jesus finds itself presumably in open space.61 The next scene describes a movement away from the side of the lake (ἀπῆλθεν, v. 24) to Jairus’s home. The events seem all to be situated within walking distance. If, as is likely from a reader-perspective, it all took place in Capernaum62 – according to Richard Horsley, at the time a small town with “a population

C. Sweat, The Theological Role of Paradox in the Gospel of Mark: Profiles from a History of Interpretation, LNTS 492 (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2013). 59   See esp. the impressive study of Bosenius, Der literarische Raum. 60  Reinhard Kratz, “θάλασσα,” EWNT 1:315; Pamela Lee Thimmes, Studies in the Biblical Sea-Storm Type-Scene: Convention and Invention (San Francisco: Mellen Research University Press, 1992); Roy D. Kotansky, “Jesus and the Lady of the Abyss (Mark 5:25–34): Hieros Gamos, Cosmogony, and the Elixir of Life,” in Antiquity and Humanity: FS Hans Dieter Betz, ed. Adela Yarbro Collins and Margaret M. Mitchell (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2001), 77–120. Fritz Stolz, “Sea,” DDD 737–742. 61   Rhoads thinks this is perhaps a slight indication of the success of Jesus’s Galilean ministry (Rhoads, Dewey, and Michie, Mark as Story, 67–68). 62   See Bastiaan M.F. van Iersel, Mark: A Reader-Response Commentary, JSNTSup 164, trans. W.H. Bisscheroux (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 204.

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of around a thousand at most”63 – the distance from the sea shore to the local synagogue (in the vicinity of which Jairus and his family may have lived) will have been a few hundred meters at most.64 On the road we find much movement to and fro: a woman ἐλθοῦσα ἐν τῷ ὄχλῳ (v. 27) approaches Jesus secretly, ὄπισθεν ἥψατο, Jesus ἐπιστραφεὶς ἐν τῷ ὄχλῳ (v. 30), the woman then approaches Jesus openly, ἦλθεν καὶ προσέπεσεν αὐτῷ (v. 33) and she is implicitly said to have left the scene, ὕπαγε εἰς εἰρήνην (v. 34). The movements are followed by the messengers entering the scene (v. 35), leading to Jesus and his company travelling further to Jairus’s house, inside the house, inside the room: ἔρχονται εἰς τὸν οἶκον (v. 38) … καὶ εἰσελθών (v. 39) … καὶ εἰσπορεύεται ὅπου ἦν τὸ παιδίον (v. 40).65 All in all, there seems to be a telescoping of the spatial settings from the sea to the girl’s room. At the supreme moment five witnesses are in the room where Jesus and the dead girl are: Peter, James, and John (“those who were with him”) and the child’s parents (Mark 5:40). Temporal setting – Time plays a crucial role in the plot development. The dramatic message of Jairus in vv. 22–23 gives the entire episode a note of urgency from the start, whereas the pressing crowd is an unwelcome delaying factor (v. 24), a delay that turns out to be fatal when the haemorrhaging 63   For various estimates on the number of inhabitants of Capernaum in the first century and other archaeological data, see Richard A. Horsley, “The Historical Jesus and Archaeology of Galilee: Questions from Historical Jesus Research to Archaeologists,” SBLSP 33 (1994): 103–104. Different (without substantiation): R.T. France, The Gospel of Mark: A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 101: “Its population at the time may have been as high as 10,000.” Horsley refers to the estimate of 12,000-15,000 inhabitants by Eric M. Meyers and James F. Strange, but rejects it (loc. cit.). John C.H. Laughlin, Fifty Major Cities of the Bible: From Dan to Beersheba (London: Routledge, 2006), 93, writes: “What is known [from the archaeological evidence from the Early Roman period] indicates a small village of limited habitation of probably no more than a thousand people.” 64   On the geography and archeology of Capernaum, see Jack Finegan, The Archeology of the New Testament: The Life of Jesus and the Beginning of the Early Church, PLL (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1970, 21992/2014), 97–111; Bargil Pixner, Wege des Messias und Stätten der Urkirche: Jesus und das Judenchristentum im Licht neuer archäologische Erkenntnisse, ed. Rainer Riesner, BAZ 2 (Giessen: Brunnen, 1991, 31996), 114–126 (“Rätsel um die Synagogen von Kafarnaum”); Virgilio C. Corbo, “Capernaum,” ABD 1 (1992): 866– 869; BDAG 536; Moše Fišer, “Kapharnaum: Eine Retrospektive,” JAC 44 (2001): 142–167; Laughlin, Fifty Major Cities, 88–95; Bosenius, Der literarische Raum, 123–169. On its synagogue in particular, see the relevant sections in The Ancient Synagogue from Its Origins until 200 C.E. Papers Presented at an International Conference at Lund University, October 14–17, 2001, ed. Birger Ollson and Mark Zetterholm, ConBNT 39 (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell International, 2003); Bosenius, Der literarische Raum, 130–134. 65  Cf. Ernst Lohmeyer, Das Evangelium des Markus übersetzt und erklärt, KEK 1/2 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1937, 171967), 104: “Er ist gleichsam in vier Stationen eingeteilt: a) Am Strande (21–24). b) Auf der Straße (35–37). c) Im Hof des Hauses (38–40). d) Im Zimmer des Mädchens (41–43).”

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woman enters the scene. Had Jesus arrived in time, perhaps the girl would not have died (cf. John 11:21!). The tension is heightened by Mark’s almost staccato story-telling technique. Most readers will hold that the twelve years of illness (v. 25, with a seemingly long and complicated medical history) and the twelve years of the girl’s age (v. 42) are somehow related and hence should be interpreted in light of each other. But even if one holds that the correspondence of the twelve years is coincidental, a mere “accident of history” or the result of a whimsical course of tradition,66 it is difficult to ignore the effect of the numerical correspondence on the reader. From a narrative perspective the juxtaposition of the twelve years strengthens the coherence of the story, forcing the reader to establish a connection between the fates of the two women and ask for a rationale. Bengel, for one, observed that the identical timing of the healing of the woman and the resuscitation of the girl coincided with the timing of the start of their respective predicaments, viz. the beginning of the woman’s misery of the woman and the beginning of the girl’s life: “Uno tempore sanata est mulier, et resuscitata puella, quae uno tempore initium miseriae et vitae habuerant.”67 Social setting – Jairus is introduced as a religious official (ἀρχισυνάγωγος), hence part of the Jewish religious establishment. He is also presented as a father (v. 23) and a husband (v. 40), and as the head of a small household with some servants, owner of a house (v. 35). According to the social stratification model of Ekkehard and Wolfgang Stegemann, Jairus belongs to the nonelite (lower-stratum group).68 He would not belong to the rich but neither to the absolutely poor (πτωχοί) that lived below the level of minimum of existence.69 In stark contrast with Jairus as a male figure of some standing, the woman is anonymous and identified solely by her disease and dramatic medical history. It is questionable whether the obvious blanks can and should be filled in in more detail, as many interpreters have done in the past: Jairus rich, the woman poor (obviously she is now); Jairus a family man, the woman 66   Cf. Vincent Taylor, The Gospel according to St. Mark: The Greek Text with Introduction, Notes, and Indices (London: Macmillan; New York: St. Martin’s, 1952, 21966), 290 (with reference to M.-J. Lagrange); Robert H. Gundry, Mark: A Commentary on His Apology for the Cross, 2 vols. (Grand Rapids, Cambridge: Eerdmans, 1993/2004), 1:284: “an interesting coincidence in historical data”; Étienne Trocmé, L’Évangile selon Saint Marc, CNT 2 (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 2000), 151: “Il n’y a là qu’une coïncidence, qui toutefois a pu contribuer à suggérer à l’évangéliste un rapprochement entre les deux épisodes.” France, Mark, 240, thinks the mention of the girl’s age is “trivial” and “has no obvious function than to add to the human interest of the story (unless it is intended to explain περιεπάτει: she is a twelve-year old, not an infant).” 67   Johann Albrecht Bengel, Gnomon Novi Testamenti in quo ex nativa verborum vi simplicitas, profunditas, concinnitas, salubritas sensuum coelestium indicatur, ed. Ernst Bengel and Paul Steudel (Stuttgart: Steinkopf, [1742] 81891), 179. 68   Stegemann and Stegemann, Jesus Movement. 69  Cf. Stegemann and Stegemann, Jesus Movement, 135.

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single or perhaps widowed; Jairus a Jew, the woman of Gentile provenance, Jairus a respected leader, the woman largely overlooked by all.70 Although these differences would add depth to the story, the reshaping of these empty spaces into binary oppositions cannot be said to derive necessarily from the textual data: they are among many other options to fill in what is left unstated. The only thing that is obvious from the text is that the woman had nothing left (δαπανήσασα τὰ παρ᾽ αὐτῆς πάντα) at the moment she approached Jesus. The obvious advantage of such a bleak description of the woman from a narrative-critical perspective is that it allows more readers to identify with her. In the narrative, the acts of prostration (social conventions) are first and foremost acts of reverence and respect for Jesus as divine miracle-worker and thus stress his superior status. Architectural setting – At first, the action takes apparently place in the open; then in a two-room house.71 Jairus’s house is probably not a two-storied building (Mark employs εἰσέρχομαι rather than ἀναβαίνω as in Acts 1:13, although this is not an undisputable argument, cf. Luke 5:19; Acts 10:9). Props include the ship (v. 21), the hands of Jesus (v. 23), the hand of the girl (v. 41), Jesus’s cloak (vv. 27–28, 30), and perhaps the reference to food (v. 43). They are not insignificant, since they are all instrumental to the realization of the healing and revivification and referential to the wider concept of salvation. 7. Characters and Characterization As Mieke Bal argues, “character features activate the reader.” 72 In Mark 5:21–43 the following characters (dramatis personae)73 can be identified 70   Cf. Stegemann and Stegemann, Jesus Movement, 383: “The woman with hemorrhages … remains nameless. She seems to be single and impoverished.” Peter Trummer, Die blutende Frau: Wunderheilung im Neuen Testament (Freiburg: Herder, 1991), 85: “Die Frau muß – von ihren ersten Menses her gerechnet – so um die Mitte Zwanzig sein, möglicherweise auch älter, weil ja das Einsetzen ihrer Krankheit nicht näher bestimmt wird. Daß Jesus sie mit einigem Fug und Recht als Tochter anreden kann, setzt einen entsprechenden Altersunterschied zwischen beiden voraus. Soll diese Bezeichnung im Munde Jesu stimmig sein, muß er ein gutes Stück älter sein als diese Frau, muß er auch die damals durchschnittliche Lebenserwartung von 28 Jahren bereits um etliches überschritten haben, was unser Klischee vom jugendlichen Jesus doch in die Richtung eines reiferen Mannesalters verschieben dürfte, wobei die Begriffe ‘Jugend’ und ‘Alter’ immer im Verhältnis zur allgemeinen Lebenserwartung näher zu bestimmen sind.” Cf. Darrell L. Bock, Luke: Volume 1: 1:1–9:50, 2 vols. BECNT 3A (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 1994), 798, also speculates on the age of the woman on the basis of the appellation daughter, “a choice of term that is unusual, since Jesus is probably younger than this woman” (cf. n.25: “The length of the woman’s problem suggests that she is older than Jesus”). 71  See Corbo, “Capernaum,” if Capernaum is in view, for a description of houses. 72   Bal, Narratology, 125 (with examples). 73   Abrams and Harpham, Glossary, 42: “Characters are the persons represented in a dramatic or narrative work, who are interpreted by the reader as possessing particular moral, intel-

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(following the order of their textual entry): Jesus (v. 21), the accompanying crowd (v. 21), Jairus (v. 22), a dying girl in absentia (v. 23), a woman with haemorrhages (v. 25), physicians (v. 26), the disciples of Jesus (v. 31), messengers from Jairus’s house (v. 35), the disciples Peter, James and John in particular (v. 37), a group of mourners at the house (v. 38), and the mother of the child (v. 40). Protagonists and antagonists – Jesus, Jairus and the haemorrhaging woman are the characters that dominate the narrative, Jesus being the subject of vv. 21, 24, 30, 32, 34, 36–41, Jairus of vv. 22 and 23, the woman of vv. 25–29. The daughter of Jairus can be said to be a fourth main character. Although she is physically absent from almost the entire narrative – her active role begins only at the end – from the very first mention of her in v. 23 she is constantly in view. Would a first-century Christian reader identify with the girl as a symbol of his or her conversion experience (from death to life)? These four, then, are the primary identification figures in the story. In opposition to the protagonists the narrator introduces antagonists to thrust the plot forward: the accompanying crowd which presses in on Jesus (v. 24), the woman whose intervention causes a fatal delay to Jairus’s urgent journey home (vv. 25–35), the physicians whose treatment made the woman’s predicament worse (v. 26), and the crowd of mourners at the threshold of Jairus’s house who ridicule Jesus (v. 38). Death, as a physical reality, is the antagonist of the girl, and by implication, of Jesus and his message. Round and flat characters – Flat (and almost static) characters are the crowds that serve as a foil to the course of events: they are stock characters or, in Seymour Chatman’s terms, “walk-ons,” 74 static characters that are part of the background or setting of the narrative, such as the disciples, the physicians, the bystanders and the mourners. Their function here is a bit ambivalent: they are not essential to the plot development, but they are all witnesses to Jesus’s salvific ministry and thus sharpen his profile. Jairus’s daughter is also a flat character,75 as is her unnamed mother. Jairus is a protagonist and a round character. The disciples seem to be inactive in the first part of the story and only later on receive a role as witnesses. The haemorrhaging woman’s characterization is more complex, though. She is both a protagonist (an example of faith) and an antagonist (an obstruction to Jairus). She is a round character whom we get to know by showing and telling. She exemplifies the more positive role of women in the

lectual, and emotional qualities by inferences from what the persons say and their distinctive ways of saying it – the dialogue – and from what they do – the action” (italics added as a replacement for bold font in the original). 74   Chatman, Story and Discourse, 139 (“human beings … who are merely elements of the setting”). 75   So rightly Camille Focant, L’évangile selon Marc, CBNT 2 (Paris: Cerf, 2004), 209.

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Gospel of Mark (7:24–30; 12:41–44; 14:3–9).76 But at the same time, having said that, it may well be that she evokes different emotions to different readers. While a Jewish audience may well have felt embarrassed because of the ritual impurity that would come with the woman’s condition, Roman readers would probably be appalled, at least if we may take Pliny the Elder’s “diagnosis” as indicative: [N]othing could easily be found that is more remarkable than the monthly flux of women (“mulierum profluvio”). Contact with it turns new wine sour, crops touched by it become barren, grafts die, seeds in gardens are dried up, the fruit of trees falls off, the bright surface of mirrors in which it is merely reflected is dimmed, the edge of steel and the gleam of ivory are dulled, hives of bees die, even bronze and iron are at once seized by rust, and a horrible smell fills the air; to taste it drives dogs mad and infects their bites with an incurable poison. Moreover bitumen, a substance generally sticky and viscous, that at a certain season of the year floats on the surface of the lake of Judaea called the Asphalt Pool (“in lacu Iudaeae qui vocatur Asphaltites”), adheres to everything touching it, and cannot be drawn asunder except by a thread soaked in the poisonous fluid in question. Even that very tiny creature the ant is said to be sensitive to it, and throws away grains of corn that taste of it and does not touch them again. Not only does this pernicious mischief occur in a woman every month (“hoc tale tantumque omnibus tricenis diebus malum in muliere exsistit”), but it comes in larger quantity every three months; and in some cases it comes more frequently than once a month, just as in certain women it never occurs at all. The latter, however, do not have children, since the substance in question is the material for human generation, as the semen from the males acting like rennet collects this substance within it, which thereupon immediately is inspired with life and endowed with body. Hence when this flux occurs with women heavy with child, the offspring is sickly or still-born or sanious, according to Nigidius.77

8. Intertextuality Although the Gospel of Mark is not usually appreciated for its citations of and allusions to biblical texts, at least not to the degree that the other gospels are, on closer inspection the gospel does have a significant network of textual connections, both internal and external.78 (a) From a narrative-critical perspective, intratextual (Mark-Mark) connections give coherence to the gospel story and give the reader a sense of (thematic) unity. The notion of the laying on of hands, for example, occurs 76   See e.g. Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, “Fallible Followers: Women and Men in the Gospel of Mark,” Semeia 28 (1983): 29–48; Mary Ann Beavis, “Women as Models of Faith in the Gospel of Mark,” BTB 18 (1988): 3–9; Willard M. Swartly, “The Role of Women in Mark’s Gospel: A Narrative Analysis,” BTB 27 (1997): 16–22; Amy-Jill Levine and Marianne Blickenstaff, eds., A Feminist Companion to Mark, FCNTECW 2 (Edinburgh: T&T Clark International Cleveland: Pilgrim Press, 2001). 77   Pliny the Elder, Nat. 7.15.64–67 (Rackham, LCL 352:548–549). 78  For a full survey, see Appendix 2: Text and Intertext. Sweat, Paradox, 62–76, takes Mark’s treatment of Isa 6:9–10 in Mark 4:2 as “paradoxical” (“Scripture both Countered and Confirmed”).

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elsewhere in Mark, both in the context of healing79 and in the context of blessing (children).80 The picture of a woman who had heard of Jesus and fell down on her knees before him will also be found in 7:25 (ἀλλ’ εὐθὺς ἀκούσασα γυνὴ περὶ αὐτοῦ, ἧς εἶχεν τὸ θυγάτριον αὐτῆς πνεῦμα ἀκάθαρτον, ἐλθοῦσα προσέπεσεν πρὸς τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ). One can think further of the crowd pressing in on Jesus (v. 24; 3:9 Καὶ εἶπεν τοῖς μαθηταῖς αὐτοῦ ἵνα πλοιάριον προσκαρτερῇ αὐτῷ διὰ τὸν ὄχλον ἵνα μὴ θλίβωσιν αὐτόν), and (v. 27) references to Jesus’s successful healing activities (3:10: πολλοὺς γὰρ ἐθεράπευσεν, ὥστε ἐπιπίπτειν αὐτῷ ἵνα αὐτοῦ ἅψωνται ὅσοι εἶχον μάστιγας, with further marginal references to touching (either Jesus touching the sick, or the sick touching Jesus). In the margin of v. 37 references are found to the three most intimate disciples of Jesus on other special occasions (Transfiguration, 9:2 parr.; the eschatological discourse on Mount Olivet, 13:3; Gethsemane, 14:33 parr.). In v. 42 a reference to Mark 2:12 contains instances of the reactions to Jesus’s ministry. Probably the most well-known intratextual connection in this section is the command to silence in v. 43, where the marginal annotations have a reference to Mark 1:44, which has a list of texts usually associated with the (Markan) Messianic secret.81 The intra-Markan interconnections serve to solidify the story, thus giving it a “hohe literarische Kohärenz,” 82 and creating a microcosmos which reflects themes and motifs from the larger Markan narrative. (b) In comparison with the other gospels, the Gospel of Mark has relatively few direct quotations and allusions to the Old Testament. Still, the writings of the Old Testament serve as an important subtext to Mark’s Gospel.83 For 79   Mark 6:5: καὶ οὐκ ἐδύνατο ἐκεῖ ποιῆσαι οὐδεμίαν δύναμιν, εἰ μὴ ὀλίγοις ἀρρώστοις ἐπιθεὶς τὰς χεῖρας (plural) ἐθεράπευσεν; 7:32: Καὶ φέρουσιν αὐτῷ κωφὸν καὶ μογιλάλον καὶ παρακαλοῦσιν αὐτὸν ἵνα ἐπιθῇ αὐτῷ τὴν χεῖρα (singular); 8:23, 25: ἐπιθεὶς τὰς χεῖρας αὐτῷ … πάλιν ἐπέθηκεν τὰς χεῖρας (a two-stage imposition of hands); [16:18]: ἐπὶ ἀρρώστους χεῖρας ἐπιθήσουσιν καὶ καλῶς ἕξουσιν (longer ending of Mark’s promise to believers). 80   Mark 10:16: καὶ ἐναγκαλισάμενος αὐτὰ κατευλόγει τιθεὶς τὰς χεῖρας ἐπ’ αὐτά. 81   In addition to Mark 5:43 par. (καὶ διεστείλατο αὐτοῖς πολλὰ ἵνα μηδεὶς γνοῖ τοῦτο, καὶ εἶπεν δοθῆναι αὐτῇ φαγεῖν): Mark 1:44 (καὶ λέγει αὐτῷ· ὅρα μηδενὶ μηδὲν εἴπῃς, ἀλλ’ ὕπαγε σεαυτὸν δεῖξον τῷ ἱερεῖ καὶ προσένεγκε περὶ τοῦ καθαρισμοῦ σου ἃ προσέταξεν Μωϋσῆς, εἰς μαρτύριον αὐτοῖς); 7:36 (καὶ διεστείλατο αὐτοῖς ἵνα μηδενὶ λέγωσιν· ὅσον δὲ αὐτοῖς διεστέλλετο, αὐτοὶ μᾶλλον περισσότερον ἐκήρυσσον); 8:30 par. (καὶ ἐπετίμησεν αὐτοῖς ἵνα μηδενὶ λέγωσιν περὶ αὐτοῦ); 9:9 par. (Καὶ καταβαινόντων αὐτῶν ἐκ τοῦ ὄρους διεστείλατο αὐτοῖς ἵνα μηδενὶ ἃ εἶδον διηγήσωνται, εἰ μὴ ὅταν ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἐκ νεκρῶν ἀναστῇ), and (with further crossreferences) 1:34 (καὶ ἐθεράπευσεν πολλοὺς κακῶς ἔχοντας ποικίλαις νόσοις καὶ δαιμόνια πολλὰ ἐξέβαλεν καὶ οὐκ ἤφιεν λαλεῖν τὰ δαιμόνια, ὅτι ᾔδεισαν αὐτόν). Irrelevant for v. 43 are the crossreferences in 1:44 to Mark 6:11 par. and 13:9. 82   Cf. Gert Lüderitz, “Rhetorik, Poetik, Kompositionstechnik im Markusevangelium,” in Markus-Philologie: Historische, literargeschichtliche und stilistische Unter­suchungen zum zweiten Evangelium, ed. Hubert Cancik, WUNT 33 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1984), 203. 83   See, e.g., Alfred Suhl, Die Funktion der alttestamentlichen Zitate und Anspielungen im Markusevangelium (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, 1965); Hugh Anderson, “The Old

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the present pericope as a whole the outer margins of NA 28 make reference to the revival of the widow of Zarephath’s son by Elijah (1 Kgs 17:17–24) and the raising of the Shunammite’s son by Elisha (2 Kgs 4:8, 17–37) (nos. 002–004) as (the most) relevant parallels.84 Mark 5:25 provides a reference to the purity regulations for a woman with a longstanding irregular blood issue in Lev 15:25 (no. 033): Καὶ γυνή, ἐὰν ῥέῃ ῥύσει αἵματος ἡμέρας πλείους οὐκ ἐν καιρῷ τῆς ἀφέδρου αὐτῆς, ἐὰν καὶ ῥέῃ μετὰ τὴν ἄφεδρον αὐτῆς, πᾶσαι αἱ ἡμέραι ῥύσεως ἀκαθαρσίας αὐτῆς καθάπερ αἱ ἡμέραι τῆς ἀφέδρου, ἀκάθαρτος ἔσται. At v. 34 instances are given of the (imperatival) expression “go in peace” (ὕπαγε εἰς εἰρήνην): 1 Sam 1:17; 20:42; Jdt 8:35 (Πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην) (nos. 120–121, 128 (no. 128, since NA 26 = no. 123); 2 Sam 15:9 (Βάδιζε εἰς εἰρήνην) (no. 122); 2 Kgs 5:19 (Δεῦρο εἰς εἰρήνην) (no. 124).85 (c) On the basis of Markan priority and acknowledging only connections that are historically plausible, it is difficult to establish direct influence from any textual reference from early Jewish and early Christian writings adopted in the marginal apparatus of NA 28. The reference to the raising of Tabitha in Acts 9:36–42 (no. 5) provides a parallel that is more of significance for Luke’s version than for Mark. This is also true for the reference to Tabitha in v. 40 to Acts 9:40. Such references cannot (and are not meant to) establish any historical influence of Mark from Acts (the other way around, though, is highly probable). The same goes for the references at v. 22 to John 11:32 (Mary prostrating before Jesus (in the context of the death of her brother Lazarus) and at v. 39 to John 11:11 (Ταῦτα εἶπεν, καὶ μετὰ τοῦτο λέγει αὐτοῖς· Λάζαρος ὁ φίλος ἡμῶν κεκοίμηται· ἀλλὰ πορεύομαι ἵνα ἐξυπνίσω αὐτόν). Although the points of correspondence are striking, they cannot be Testament in Mark’s Gospel,” in The Use of the Old Testament in the New and Other Essays, Studies in Honor of William Franklin Stinespring, ed. James M. Efird (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1972), 280–306; Willem S. Vorster, “The Function of the Use of the Old Testament in Mark,” Neot 14 (1980): 62–72; Joel Marcus, The Way of the Lord: Christological Exegesis of the Old Testament in the Gospel of Mark (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1992); Christopher M. Tuckett, ed., The Scriptures in the Gospels, BETL 131 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, Peeters, 1997); Craig A. Evans, “The Beginning of the Good News and the Fulfillment of Scripture in the Gospel of Mark,” in Hearing the Old Testament in the New Testament, ed. Stanley E. Porter (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 83–103; Timothy Wiarda, “Story-Sensitive Exegesis and Old Testament Allusions in Mark,” JETS 49 (2006): 489–504. 84   Numbers refer to Appendix 2: Text and Intertext. 85   Less relevant for the present purpose are the two second-order allusions to the Old Testament, in v. 32 the reference to Isa 6:10 via Mark 3:5 (no. 104), and in v. 43 the reference to Lev 14:2–32 via Mark 1:44 (no. 201). Two references have been omitted in the course of transmission. In v. 27 the reference to Num 15:38 via Mark 6:56 (no. 56), and in v. 34 the reference to Judg 18:6 via Matt 9:22 (no. 119) (both from NA26 onwards). I consider 1 Sam 15:27 LXX (ἐκράτησεν Σαουλ τοῦ πτερυγίου τῆς διπλοΐδος αὐτοῦ καὶ διέρρηξεν αὐτό) not relevant [cf. Grant LeMarquand, An Issue of Relevance: A Comparative Study of the Story of the Bleeding Woman (Mark 5:25–34; Matt 9:20–22; Lk 8:43–48) in North Atlantic and African Contexts, BTAf 5 (New York: Lang, 2004), 48].

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said to derive from Johannine influence on Mark. The other references in v. 23, 34 and 39 are too much of a general nature to help establish Mark’s intertextual framework.86 They do, in a very general way, add to the mood of Mark as a first-century writer. (d) Dennis MacDonald sees a parallel with (or, more precisely, an influence from) the death of Sarpedon and Glaucus’s wound in Homer, Il. 16.433–683,87 and (with reference to Luke 8:40–56) with Aeneas’s haemorrhaging wound in Vergil, Aen. 12.385–429.88 Whatever one may think of MacDonald’s larger theory of intertextual relationships with classical writings, it seems obvious that in this particular case the (very large stretches of the) texts referred to are not the most dominant influences on Mark’s version of the story, if at all. On the contrary, Mark’s story is firmly embedded in a largely biblical frame of reference. This, in my view, also applies to the suggestion of Frances Flanery that the gospel writers were consciously portraying Jesus as superior to Asclepius.89 Some readers will have made such a connection indeed, but the linguistic and conceptual points of correspondence at the level of the gospel writers themselves are weak. 9. Point of View The Markan implied author’s point of view gives unity and cohesion to the story. As Bas van Iersel has remarked: “It is intriguing that in the narrator’s representation Jesus appears to know less than the narrator and the reader, unless his question [who touched me?] is only rhetorical … here he neither knows what the woman is thinking nor is he fully conscious of what is happening” 90 In the Gospel of Mark as a whole, this not entirely consist86  V. 23 has a marginal reference to Luke 4:40, where cross-references are found to summaries of Jesus’s healing activities: Matt 8:16f. | Mark 1:32–34 (cf. also Acts 28:9). V. 34 has a reference to Jas 2:16 (εἴπῃ δέ τις αὐτοῖς ἐξ ὑμῶν· ὑπάγετε ἐν εἰρήνῃ, θερμαίνεσθε καὶ χορτάζεσθε, μὴ δῶτε δὲ αὐτοῖς τὰ ἐπιτήδεια τοῦ σώματος, τί τὸ ὄφελος;). V. 39 refers to Acts 20:20 (καταβὰς δὲ ὁ Παῦλος ἐπέπεσεν αὐτῷ καὶ συμπεριλαβὼν εἶπεν· μὴ θορυβεῖσθε, ἡ γὰρ ψυχὴ αὐτοῦ ἐν αὐτῷ ἐστιν). 87   Dennis R. MacDonald, The Gospels and Homer: Imitations of Greek Epic in Mark and Luke-Acts, vol. 1 of The New Testament and Greek Literature (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2015), 70–71. See also his The Homeric Epics and the Gospel of Mark (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000). 88   Dennis R. MacDonald, Luke and Vergil: Imitations of Classical Greek Literature, vol. 2 of The New Testament and Greek Literature (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2015), 189–191. 89  Frances Flannery, “Talitha Qum! An Exploration of the Image of Jesus as HealerPhysician-Savior in the Synoptic Gospels in Relation to the Asclepius Cult,” in Coming Back to Life: The Permeability of Past and Present, Mortality and Immortality, Death and Life in the Ancient Mediterranean, ed. Frederick S. Tappenden and Carly Daniel-Hughes, with the assistance of Bradley N. Rice (Montreal, QC: McGill University Library, 2017), 407–434. 90  Van Iersel, Mark, 206.

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ent portrayal of Jesus is subordinate to the larger picture: in Mark, Jesus is portrayed first and foremost in his role of Son of God (cf. 1:1, which is textually suspect) and Proclaimer (in word and especially in deed) of the imminent arrival of the Kingdom of God.91 The healing of the haemorrhaging woman and the raising of Jairus’s daughter are dramatic illustrations of the powers of the Kingdom entrusted to Jesus and of the appropriate stance (faith commitment) to be taken toward his message. What can be said of Mark’s implied author in general can also be said of the story of Jairus and the haemorrhaging woman: as everywhere else in the gospel, he sides with Jesus (the hero of the story), who in turn sides with God. Everything Jesus says and does is reliable; everything (or at least most of what) his opponents do is not.92 What his followers (disciples and followers) do is often ambivalent: they thus encourage the reader to take position him- or herself. The reader is expected to have faith (keep faith) and put his trust in Jesus as the bringer of salvation. 10. Jesus and the Purity Regulations Before we turn to the Matthaean narrative, there is one issue that has not yet been addressed sufficiently and which has vexed commentators from a very early period. Did Jesus, according to the gospel writers, become ritually impure by the physical contact with the two women and was he hence obliged to perform a purification ritual afterwards? And, if he did, why do the gospel writers fail to mention such a procedure? Of course, we cannot undertake a full study of the historical Jesus and the Law here.93 However,   But note the qualifications expressed by Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, Mark’s Jesus.  Cf. Petersen, “Point of View,” 107, 108: “Mark’s ideological standpoint is identical with that of his central character, Jesus, with whom he shares the power of knowing what is in the minds of others (…) For the narrator … there are two ways of perceiving things, two perspectives from which to construe them; one is right and the other is wrong; one divine, and one human (…) There is only a right way and a wrong way of viewing things, and the right way is that taken by Mark and Jesus.” 93   See for varying interpretations on issues of cleanness and uncleanness and the purity rules: Bruce J. Malina, The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1979, 21993), 149–183; Shaye J.D. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred in Judaism and Christianity,” in Women’s History and Ancient History, ed. Sarah B. Pomeroy (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1991), 273–299; Hannah K. Harrington, “Purity,” EDSS 2 (2000): 724–729; Marcel Poorthuis and Joshua Schwartz, eds., Purity and Holiness: The Heritage of Leviticus, JCPS 2 (Leiden: Brill, 2000); Cecilia Wassen, “Jesus and the Hemorrhaging Woman in Mark 5:24–34: Insights from Purity Laws from Qumran,” in Scripture in Transition: Essays on Septuagint, Hebrew Bible, and Dead Sea Scrolls in Honour of Raija Sollamo, ed. Anssi Voitila and Jutta Jokiranta, JSJSup 126 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 641–660; John P. Meier, Law and Love, vol. 4 of A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus, ABRL (New York: Doubleday, 2009), 342–477 (“Jesus and Purity Laws”); Isaac W. Oliver, Torah Praxis after 70 CE: Reading Matthew and Luke-Acts as Jewish Texts, 91

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the wider implications of these questions cannot be ignored for our understanding of the episode. Bystanders and Jewish readers, to be sure, would not have missed the seriousness of the situation: Jesus found himself in as unambiguous a context as in which the traditional purity regulations would immediately take effect. Based on the Holiness Code in Leviticus, especially the purity laws in Chapter 15, and the Mishnaic regulations concerning impurity, Jesus was susceptible to uncleanness by the touch of the woman, by the entrance into the house where a dead person was laying and by the physical contact with the corpse. According to the regulations of the Mishna (which may have been in effect in at least some circles in the first century CE), all are susceptible to varying degrees of uncleanness by reason of a flux. See e.g. m. Zabim 2.1 (trans. Danby, Mishnah, 768): “All are susceptible to uncleanness by reason of a flux, even proselytes, even slaves, whether freedmen or not, a deaf-mute, an imbecile or a minor, a eunuch of man’s making or a eunuch by nature. To one that is of doubtful sex or of double sex the stringencies that bear in the case of a man and the stringencies that bear in the case of a woman both apply: they convey uncleanness through blood like a woman, and through semen like a man; but their uncleanness remains in doubt.” m. Zabim 5.1 (trans. Danby, Mishnah, 771): “If a man touched a Zab or if a Zab touched him, if a man shifted a Zab or if a Zab shifted him, he conveys uncleanness by contact, but not by carrying, to foodstuffs and liquids and vessels that can be made clean by immersing. R. Joshua laid down a general rule: All they that convey uncleanness to garments while they have contact with them, convey first-grade uncleanness to foodstuffs and liquids, and second-grade uncleanness to the hands, but they do not convey uncleanness to a man or to an earthenware vessel; after they are severed from what had rendered them unclean they convey first-grade uncleanness to foodstuffs and liquids, and second-grade uncleanness to the hands, but they do not convey uncleanness to garments.” m. Zabim 5.6 (trans. Danby, Mishnah, 772): “If a man touched a man or a woman that had a flux, or a menstruant or a woman after childbirth, or a leper, or aught that these had lain upon or sat upon, he conveys uncleanness at a first remove and at a second remove and renders [Heave-offering] invalid at a third remove. It is all one whether he touched, or shifted, lifted, or was lifted.” m. Zabim 5.11 (trans. Danby, Mishnah, 773): “He that has suffered a pollution is like to one that has touched a creeping thing, and he that has connexion with a menstruant is like to one that suffers corpse uncleanness; howbeit it is more grave for him that has connexion with a menstruant in that he conveys a lesser uncleanness to what he lies upon or sits upon so that this renders foods and liquids unclean.” m. Kelim 1.4 (trans. Danby, Mishnah, 604–605): “[The uncleanness of] the man that has a flux is exceeded by the uncleanness of the woman that has a flux, for she conveys uncleanness to him that has connexion with her. [The uncleanness of] the woman that has a flux is exceeded by [the uncleanness of] the leper, for he renders [a house] unclean by entering into it. [The uncleanness of] the leper is exceeded by [the uncleanness of] a barleycorn’s bulk of bone [from a corpse], for it conveys seven-day uncleanness. These are all exceeded by [the uncleanness of] a WUNT 2/355 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013); Cecilia Wassen, “Jesus’ Work as a Healer in Light of Jewish Purity Laws,” in Bridging between Sister Religions: Studies of Jewish and Christian Scriptures Offered in Honor of Prof. John T. Townsend, ed. Isaac Kalimi (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 87–104; idem, “The Jewishness of Jesus and Ritual Purity.” SIDA 27 (2016): 11–36.

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corpse, for it conveys uncleanness by overshadowing, which uncleanness is conveyed by naught else.”

Physical contact with a corpse made a man unclean for a period of seven days: m. ’Ohal. 1.1 (trans. Danby, Mishnah, 649–650): “[Sometimes] two things contract uncleanness from a corpse, one of them seven-day uncleanness and the other eveninguncleanness: [sometimes] three things contract uncleanness from a corpse, two of them seven-day uncleanness and the third evening-uncleanness; [sometimes] four things contract uncleanness from a corpse, three of them seven-day uncleanness and the fourth evening-uncleanness. How [does this befall] the two things? If a man touches a corpse he contracts seven-day uncleanness, and if a man touches him he contracts eveninguncleanness.” See also m. Kelim 1.4 (trans. Danby, Mishnah, 604): “These Fathers of Uncleanness, [namely,] a [dead] creeping thing, male semen, he that has contracted uncleanness from a corpse, a leper in his days of reckoning, and Sin-offering water too little in quantity to be sprinkled, convey uncleanness to men and vessels by contact and to earthenware vessels by [presence within their] air-space; but they do not convey uncleanness by carrying.”

On the level of the historical Jesus (the Sitz im Leben Jesu), I think it is plausible, as E.P. Sanders suggests, that Jesus felt free to overrule such regulations for his conviction of the imminence of God’s endtime rule.94 But an equally plausible interpretation, offered for example by Cecilia Wassen, holds that Jesus as a Jew was so accustomed to keep the Law that it was selfevident that – when he would have attracted uncleanness (which was unavoidable in Jewish daily life) – he naturally would have kept the prescribed purification rituals and washings. The fact is that we simply cannot look into Jesus’s head and uncover his intentions. On all levels we are confronted with “gaps.” The only thing we can do is to fill gaps from what we can reasonably infer from the narrative framework of the gospel writers. And perhaps here we come on safer ground, for the gospel writers themselves – telling their stories when the Gentile mission had caused a split in the early Jesus movement and Gentile followers of Jesus had a heightened sensitivity to Jewish purity matters – here and there reveal their point of view. Mark 7:1–23 is an obvious example. Unlike Mark 1:44, purity regulations and matters of uncleanness (ritual impurity) do not play an explicit role on the level of the text. Such questions do not seem to matter to Mark: he is more focused on the appropriate response of the petitioners and on the result of saving faith. The only indication that uncleanness may be in the background, is the diagnosis of the woman’s disease in language drawing on Lev 15, and Markan readers familiar with (Hebrew or Greek) Scripture would be intrigued by the implications for Jesus. However, nothing explicit is being communicated in the Markan pericope. While purity laws may have been of little or no concern   Ed Parish Sanders, Jesus and Judaism (London: SCM, 1985), 245–269.

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to the historical Jesus, as John Meier suggests,95 and Mark is quite adamant in his assertion that Jesus was critical of the tradition of the Elders (Mark 7:1–23), and while first-century Palestinian Jews and readers familiar with the Mosaic law would probably be alert on the sensitivity of the scene, notably so after Jesus’s return from impure territory, for Mark and his (Roman?) readers it will only have been an academic question by hindsight: their interests lie elsewhere. Mark 5:25 does describe the physical and social effects of the woman’s condition, not the juridical ones. While for Mark the issue of purity regulations may have been a theoretical problem (see above), this may be different for Matthew. Given the clear statements about the abiding validity of the law, (Jewish) readers of Matthew will have had a heightened awareness of the purity issues involved. But, again, the implications are not so clear. Was it so evident that Jesus contracted impurity (as Wassen claims for the Markan version) or was it so evident that the laws were overruled or invalidated by Jesus’s actions? Again, it is difficult to be certain on this. As with Mark, for Luke the purity regulations do not seem to be a matter of much dispute. On the analogy of the outpouring of the Spirit on the Gentiles without prior conditions except faith, the Lukan Jesus seems to overrule the effects of the purity laws by his salvific actions. Most of Luke’s (Gentile) readers probably will not have been alert on the finesses of the Jewish purity laws.96

D. Narrative Analysis of Matt 9:18–26 The raising of the leader’s daughter is the only resurrection miracle in Matthew. The only two healing miracles that are unique to Matthew (9:27–31, 32–34) are immediately placed after the pericope of the raising of the leader’s daughter. In Chapter 3 (Structure and Form) we analysed the Matthaean pericope in the context of Matthew’s wider plot and observed, with Kingsbury, that the pericope is situated in a part of the gospel that is relatively free of conflict and has its focus on Christology.97 The current task is to trace the storyline of the pericope itself to explore the narrative dynamics and see if and how its narrative setup fits the larger context.98   Meier, Law and Love, 342–477.   Pace Oliver, Torah Praxis after 70 CE. 97   See above, also Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction. 98   Literature: Jack Dean Kingsbury, Matthew as Story (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986, 21988); David R. Bauer, The Structure of Matthew’s Gospel: A Study in Literary Design, JSNTSup 31; BiLiSe 15 (Sheffield: Almond, 1988); David B. Howell, Matthew’s Inclusive Story: A Study in the Narrative Rhetoric of the First Gospel, JSNTSup 42 (Sheffield: JSOT, 1990). On this passage in particular: Christian Eberhart, “Auch Frauen sind Wunder wert (Die Heilung 95

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There is, however, a methodological complication that needs to be addressed and solved before we can proceed. If Matthew used Mark, as current communis opinio holds, its implied author is partly modelled on the profile inherited from Mark, so that to some degree he identifies himself with the point of view of the Markan implied author; it is, to use a term used by Nicholas Wolterstorff in another context, “appropriated discourse.” 99 That is, the author of Matthew makes Mark’s point of view – and the way he formulates it – his own to the point where his viewpoint cannot always be neatly distinguished from Mark’s. Presumably, would he have been completely free to choose his own language, he would have chosen a different diction. So the least one can say is that Matthew’s viewpoint blends with that of Mark to some degree (mutatis mutandis when the synoptic problem is solved differently, of course), in itself an important observation to keep things in perspective: the gospel writers wished to pass on stories and position themselves in a tradition rather than start something new. 1. The Implied Author/Narrator The implied author or narrator of Matthew is, in the words of Kingsbury, reliable … he is ‘omnipresent’ and ‘omniscient’ as far as the world of his story is concerned; speaks in the ‘third person’; directs ‘comments’ to the reader that provide inside information that is most often not available to the characters in the story; and indicates that the vantage point from which he involves himself in the story lies, temporally, between the resurrection and the Parousia.100

As to the narrator’s comments and asides providing background information, they are sparse compared to Mark’s. The author of Matthew does tell his readers that the woman had been ill for twelve years (v. 20 αἱμορροοῦσα δώδεκα ἔτη, “she had been suffering from haemorrhages for twelve years”) and gives them an insight into her deliberations (v. 21 ἔλεγεν γὰρ ἐν ἑαυτῇ, “for she said to herself”). He informs them about the result of her action (v. 22 καὶ ἐσώθη ἡ γυνὴ ἀπὸ τῆς ὥρας ἐκείνης, “and instantly the woman was made well”) and about the spread of the news (v. 26 καὶ ἐξῆλθεν ἡ φήμη αὕτη εἰς ὅλην τὴν γῆν ἐκείνην, “and the report of this spread throughout that district”). But much of the inside information that Mark supplies, has been dropped by the Matthaean narrator. In comparison with Mark, Matthew has drastically reduced the amount of actor’s text. Direct speech is to be found in v. 18 (the ruler to Jesus): der blutflüssigen Frau und die Auferweckung der Tochter eines Synagogenvorstehers) – Mt 9,18–26 (EpAp 5,4–7; EvNik 7),” in vol. 1 of Zimmermann, Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen, 416–425. 99  Nicholas Wolterstorff, Divine Discourse: Philosophical Reflections on the Claim that God Speaks (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 51–54. 100   Kingsbury, Matthew as Story, 31 (31–33).

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ἡ θυγάτηρ μου ἄρτι ἐτελεύτησεν· ἀλλὰ ἐλθὼν ἐπίθες τὴν χείρά σου ἐπ᾽ αὐτήν, καὶ ζήσεται; “My daughter has just died; but come and lay your hand on her, and she will live”; v. 21 (interior monologue!): ἐὰν μόνον ἅψωμαι τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ σωθήσομαι, “If I only touch his cloak, I will be made well”; v. 22 (Jesus to the woman): θάρσει, θύγατερ· ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε, “Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well,” and v. 24 (Jesus to the flute-players and mourners): ἀναχωρεῖτε, οὐ γὰρ ἀπέθανεν τὸ κοράσιον ἀλλὰ καθεύδει, “Go away; for the girl is not dead but sleeping.” While the ruler has one line (a straightforward request for resurrection), the haemorrhaging woman remains completely silent. Jesus does not speak to the ruler, but he does address the woman and the crowd of mourners. Then again, he is completely silent at the moment when the girl is being restored to life: he simply takes her hand and raises her. 2. The Implied Reader Kingsbury101 has concluded that Matthew’s implied reader has a place or position of his or her own within the world of Matthew’s story. This position lies, as the passages 24:15; 27:8; and 28:15 reveal, at some distance from the resurrection but short of the Parousia. It is, in fact, identical with the place of Matthew as implied author. From this vantage point in time, the implied reader likewise oversees the story of the life and ministry of Jesus of Nazareth as Matthew conveys this through his voice as narrator, and he or she can comprehend the whole of this story (…).102 By the last two decades of the first century, the church of Matthew was a firmly established community. Greek was its language, and the constituency was of both Jewish and gentile origins. It was furthermore urban and well-to-do, located perhaps in or near Syrian Antioch, and its neighbors were Jews and Gentiles. The atmosphere in which it lived was one of conflict, both from within and from without. From without, it encountered gentile but especially Jewish persecution. From within it was troubled by miracleworking false prophets, among others. Still, this community, having had its ties with contemporary Judaism severed, conceived of itself as a brotherhood of the sons of God and of the disciples of Jesus. It knew the exalted Son of God to reside in its midst, and it traced its teaching and ethics to him.103

Most commentators on Matthew argue that, in comparison to Mark, the author has reduced the urgency of the father’s request by the announcement that the girl had died when the father met Jesus. No need to rush. On the level of the narrative, however, a different reading is possible. Given that in a first-century Mediterranean setting burials were to be performed as soon as possible due to climate conditions, the urgency of the father’s request is 101   Kingsbury, Matthew as Story, 37–40, 147–160 (intended readers); idem, “Reflection on ‘the Reader’ of Matthew’s Gospel,” NTS 34 (1988): 442–460; Mark A. Powell, “Expected and Unexpected Readings of Matthew: What the Reader Knows,” AsTJ 48.2 (1993): 31–51. 102   Kingsbury, Matthew as Story, 38. 103   Kingsbury, Matthew as Story, 160.

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increasing not decreasing: Jesus should restore the girl to live before she would be buried. Matthew’s somewhat fuller description of the mourning scene, thereby focussing more explicitly on the upcoming burial, can be said to be in favour of this reading.104 Such a reading is also possible on the level of the implied reader who is aware of first-century Mediterranean burial conventions. But there seems to be more to it. Within the narrative of Matt 9:18–26 and its larger context, the implied reader’s expectations are put to the test from the start. Although Jesus had already performed a number of miracles and more than one petitioner had successfully approached him with a request for healing (e.g. 8:1–4, 5–13), the request for resuscitation is unprecedented. While it may betray a high measure of faith on the part of the desperate father, the reader will ponder whether the request is not unrealistic, inspired by despair rather than by faith. That Jesus gets up and follows the man without further ado – no consoling words are spoken nor any promises made – heightens the tension within the reader about the outcome of the incident, a tension that is further heightened by the abrupt intervention of the haemorrhaging woman. However, the (expected or unexpected?) climax of the story – the raising of the leader’s daughter from the dead– is told with a perplexing lack of detail, almost as an afterthought: “he went in and took her by the hand, and the girl got up” (v. 25): no magic words, no ritual acts, no eyewitnesses. What is the implied reader to make of all this? Although he or she is surely supposed to believe that what the narrator tells had happened, he or she will also infer that the actual miracle is not the point. The lesson the implied reader is to draw from the story is rather one about the role of salvific faith as exemplified by the leader and the woman and about the central role that Jesus plays in it (cf. John the Baptist’s question later on in the narrative, 11:2–6). From a narrative-critical perspective, the story is not robbed of suspense by the request of the leader, but the suspense is transferred from the level of the actor to that of the reader. 3. Plot (Ordering of the Narration) The logical (chronological) sequence of events ( fabula) consists of five narrative units, two of which belong to the narrative past (units 1 and 2), the others to the narrative present (units 3–6), all in all covering a time-span of about twelve years. Narrative past (units 1–2): Unit 1 (a, b) – Twelve years ago, a woman fell ill because of haemorrhages (a); at some point in time, she heard about Jesus and decided to turn to him for help (recent past) (b). From the narrator’s perspective, the beginning of the woman’s illness antedates the public ministry of Jesus. Unit 2 (c, d, e) – a girl had just died (c). Still, her father decided to turn to Jesus for help (d) and he left his house to call in Jesus for help (e).   I owe this interpretation to J.G. Offringa, oral communication d.d. 21 July 2017.

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Narrative present (units 3–5): Unit 3 ( f, g, h, i) – Jesus is in the house of a tax-collector ( f ). The father finds Jesus and urges him to come with him (g). Jesus sets off to his house (h). Unit 4 (i, j, k, l) – On the way, the woman finds Jesus and touches him (i). Jesus turns around and sees the woman ( j). He speaks to her (k) and the woman is healed (l). Unit 5 (m, n, o, p, q) – Jesus arrives at the house (m), dismisses the crowd (n), and enters the room (o). He raises the girl ( p) and gives further instructions ( p). The news spreads throughout the region (q). As in Mark, Matthew does not follow a strictly chronological sequence but makes use of two flashbacks. His move from fabula to plot is slightly different from Mark and can be diagrammed as follows: f, g, (c, d, e) h, i (a, b), j, k, l, m-q. Narrative future – The temporal terminus ad quem is more open-ended in Matthew than in the other versions. Although not strictly future-oriented from the narrator’s perspective, the story time goes beyond the limits of the incident itself when it is reported that “the report of this spread throughout that district” (v. 26). 4. Motifs and Theme While, with Mark, the motifs of “faith” and “salvation” are dominant themes in Matthew’s version, there is an unmistakable “christological concentration,” as R.H. Gundry has demonstrated in much detail in his commentary on Matthew, more prominent than in Mark’s Gospel. Matthew’s story is more about the identity and works of Jesus (cf. retrospectively 11:2 τὰ ἔργα τοῦ Χριστοῦ “the works of the Messiah”) than about salvation per se and its appropriation.105 Matthew also puts a little more emphasis on the notion of “seeing.” It is not that faith is not important. On the contrary, faith, for Matthew,106 is quintessential, as is salvation.107 But in the end, Matthew tells a story about Jesus. In the wider context of chapters 8 and 9, the story is a vivid illustration of the works of the Messiah (τὰ ἔργα τοῦ Χριστοῦ) in word and deed.

105   On the theology of Matthew, see Donald A. Hagner, Matthew 1–13, WBC 33A (Dallas, TX: Word, 1993), lix–lxiv; Ulrich Luz, Die Jesusgeschichte des Matthäus (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1993, 22008), trans. The Theology of the Gospel of Matthew, NTTh, trans. J. Bradford Robinson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995); Hahn, Theologie, 1:518–546; Marshall, New Testament Theology, 95–128; Wilckens, Theologie, 1/4:51–87; Matera, New Testament Theology, 26–50; Schnelle, Theologie, 399–430. 106  See Morgan, Roman Faith, 369–374. 107  See Andries G. van Aarde, “Ἰησοῦς, the Davidic Messiah, as Political Saviour in Matthew’s History,” in Salvation in the New Testament, ed. Jan G. van der Watt, 5–31.

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5. Rhetoric As Kingsbury and others have observed, the crowds and the leaders are the usual (and increasingly fierce) opponents of Jesus in Matthew. In chapter 9, we are on a stage of Matthew’s discourse on which the conflict with the leaders is “still preliminary,” and “not yet so acutely confrontational as subsequent conflict.”108 The petitioner does not seem to enter the scene in his official capacity as a religious leader (even though he is a leadership figure) nor as a typical opponent: he is, at least at first sight, simply a father in despair who turns to Jesus for help. The crowds, who will be drawn into the conflict with Jesus in subsequent events and in the end will turn against him, are absent from the episode: their presence would only disrupt the narrative flow and draw attention away from the narrator’s christological concern.109 6. Setting Spatial setting – As in Mark, the events seem to be situated in Capernaum (4:13; 9:1 “his own hometown”). Matthew’s spatial setting differs from Mark’s (that is, if we may read it as continuous narrative): Jesus and his company are still in the house of Matthew the tax collector (v. 10), where he is conversing with disciples of John the Baptist. He gets interrupted (ταῦτα αὐτοῦ λαλοῦντος αὐτοῖς, ἰδού) by the arrival of an unnamed leader.110 In response to the leader’s request Jesus rises up (ἐγερθείς) from where he was seated and follows the distressed man to his home, which seems to be in the vicinity (v. 19). The action of Jesus is interrupted once again (καὶ ἰδοὺ γυνή) when the haemorrhaging woman makes her entry. The incident takes place in the open. She appears from behind (v. 20). Depending on the translation of εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν, “to the house” or “into the house,” the flute players and the crowd are either outside or inside the house and Jesus sends them away (ἀναχωρεῖτε, v. 24; ἐξεβλήθη, v. 25, from the precinct or from the house) and enters either the house (a single room?) or the room where the girl lies. Matthew’s abbreviating activities seem to have obscured the geographical settings a little bit. Different from Mark and Luke, at the climax of the story Matthew does not instance the presence of any witnesses to the raising of the girl: Jesus and the child seem to be the only persons present in the room (v. 25), which fits in well with Matthew’s christological concern to focus on Jesus. Temporal setting – While the incident with the haemorrhaging woman in Mark and Luke causes a fatal delay, there is no such time pressure in Matthew (except perhaps, as we noted above, in the head of readers who are   Kingsbury, Matthew as Story, 6.   See below and Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction. 110   A location in the house is strengthened if we read εἰσελθών in v. 18. 108

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curious to know the outcome): the girl is already dead from the start. Still, the events are related in a speedy, almost staccato, tempo. Social setting – Different from Mark and Luke, the male petitioner in the story is not presented as a religious official, but simply as a leadership figure (ἄρχων, v. 18), that is, no obvious part of the religious establishment. He is portrayed as a father of a daughter of unspecified age (v. 18), but not as a husband. He seems to own a house, but there are no servants. He seems to be rich enough to hire flute players and socially versed enough to attract a crowd (of professional mourners? of neighbours? of friends of the family?),111 but he has no name. The Jairus of Mark and Luke has lost much of his profile. As in Mark and Luke, the woman is anonymous. Matthew is silent about her medical history and her earlier attempts to find healing. She does not speak a word. She appears out of the blue, with no apparent social networks mentioned. Again, there seems to be a subtle contrast in social status between the leader and the woman. The Matthaean leader, moreover, is clearly put in line with the centurion in 8:5. Architectural setting – Matthew may have conceived of the house of the leader as a two-roomed apartment, but given the ambiguity of the wording (see Chapter 2: Text and Translation) it is difficult to be certain on this. The props in the story, especially the subtle correlation between the hand (sg.) of Jesus (v. 18) and the hand of the girl (v. 25), and the woman’s touch of τοῦ κρασπέδου τοῦ ἱματίου (v. 20), add force to the dramatic action. 7. Characters and Characterization In Matt 9:18–26 the following characters make their appearance (in the order of the narrative): Jesus (the only named character in the story), an implied audience (αὐτοῖς, v. 18) of disciples of John the Baptist, possibly at a dinner in the house of Matthew the tax collector, an unnamed leader, a dead girl, an unknown number of disciples of Jesus (v. 19), a woman with haemorrhages, flute-players and a crowd of mourners, and (implied) inhabitants of the entire region. Protagonists and antagonists – Jesus is the undisputed hero of the story; his name occurs three times at strategic points (vv. 19, 22, 23). The other characters more or less fade into the background (so the disciples) or at least remain anonymous, even though they are pivotal to the plot (the leader, the woman, the girl). The mourning crowds at the house are antagonists. Round and flat characters – In Matthew as a whole, Jesus and the disciples are “round characters,” the crowds and the religious leaders are uniformly 111   For an instructive description of the musical (sociocultural) connotations of the flute players, see John J. Pilch, “Flute Players, Death, and Music in the Afterlife (Matthew 9:18–19, 23–26),” BTB 37 (2007): 12–19.

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“flat characters.”112 Kingsbury has observed that “[u]ntil Jesus’ arrest, the reader’s attitude toward the crowds [in Matthew] is largely one of approval and sympathy,”113 but that in 9:23 –25a the crowd is “obstructionist.”114 He concludes: “On balance, then, the Jewish crowds are ‘well-disposed’ toward Jesus but ‘without faith’ in him. In being without faith in Jesus, they contrast with the disciples. And in being well-disposed toward Jesus, they contrast with their leaders.”115 The crowd of mourners, then, are the proverbial exception to the rule: they side with the Jewish leaders (and the disciples?) in their lack of faith. The minor characters in the story, the ruler (v. 19), the woman (v. 20) and the girl (v. 25) are stock characters whose brief appearances serve as a foil to Jesus and help readers to identify with them. 8. Intertextuality (a) Intratextual (Matthew-Matthew) connections that serve the cohesion and sense of unity of the Matthaean story include references to other healing activities of Jesus by the laying on of hands and the touching of the fringe of his cloak.116 Thus, at v. 18 a reference is made to 19:13, 15, where Jesus blesses the children and lays his hands on them (προσηνέχθησαν αὐτῷ παιδία ἵνα τὰς χεῖρας ἐπιθῇ αὐτοῖς καὶ προσεύξηται … καὶ ἐπιθεὶς τὰς χεῖρας αὐτοῖς ἐπορεύθη ἐκεῖθεν), and at v. 20 to 14:36 parr., where the sick people are healed by Jesus by the mere touch of the fringe of his cloak (καὶ παρεκάλουν αὐτὸν ἵνα μόνον ἅψωνται τοῦ κρασπέδου τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ· καὶ ὅσοι ἥψαντο διεσώθησαν) and to 8:3, where a leper is cleansed by touching (καὶ ἐκτείνας τὴν χεῖρα ἥψατο αὐτοῦ λέγων· θέλω, καθαρίσθητι· καὶ εὐθέως ἐκαθαρίσθη αὐτοῦ ἡ λέπρα) (at 8:3 further cross-references). At v. 20 is also a reference to the Pharisaic κράσπεδα in 23:5. At v. 22 a reference is adopted to a similar scene earlier on in this chapter, containing a consoling word of Jesus to the paralytic: θάρσει, τέκνον (9:2, including further references of θάρσ- in 14:27, Exod 14:13; Joel 2:21f., Bar 4:21 LXX). There is also a reference to the successful ending of the story in 8:13, with further cross-references (καὶ εἶπεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς τῷ ἑκατοντάρχῃ· ὕπαγε, ὡς ἐπίστευσας γενηθήτω σοι. καὶ ἰάθη ὁ παῖς [αὐτοῦ] ἐν τῇ ὥρᾳ ἐκείνῃ). The concluding remark to the story has a parallel in v. 31: οἱ δὲ ἐξελθόντες διεφήμισαν αὐτὸν ἐν ὅλῃ τῇ γῇ ἐκείνῃ, and in 4:24: Καὶ ἀπῆλθεν ἡ ἀκοὴ αὐτοῦ εἰς ὅλην τὴν Συρίαν· καὶ προσήνεγκαν αὐτῷ πάντας τοὺς κακῶς ἔχοντας ποικίλαις νόσοις καὶ βασάνοις συνεχομένους [καὶ] δαιμονιζομένους καὶ σεληνιαζομένους καὶ παραλυτικούς, καὶ ἐθεράπευσεν αὐτούς.  So Kingsbury, Matthew as Story, 10–17.   Kingsbury, Matthew as Story, 24. 114   Kingsbury, Matthew as Story, 24. 115   Kingsbury, Matthew as Story, 25. 116   See Appendix 2: Text and Intertext. 112 113

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(b) As to the Old Testament references in Matt 9:18–26 (in addition to the ones identified in Mark 5): We have already shown that behind Matthew’s version Isa 49:7 LXX lies prominently in the background, an allusion that explains Matthew’s deviation from the Markan parallel to a high degree.117 It is not necessary to reiterate the whole argument, except for the general conclusion that Matthew, in doing so, portrays Jesus and his ministry as fulfilment of the Isaianic messianic expectations. The expectation that “(kings will see) and princes will prostrate before him” (βασιλεῖς ὄψονται αὐτὸν καὶ ἀναστήσονται, ἄρχοντες καὶ προσκυνήσουσιν αὐτῷ) has become reality in Jesus’s meeting with the leader.118 (c) Apart from references to Synoptic material (At v. 22 Luke 7:50 with further cross-references), v. 25 Mark 1:31 (formerly Matt 8:15); v. 26 Luke 4:14), there is a reference at v. 22 to Paul’s statement in Rom 10:9 about saving faith (ὅτι ἐὰν ὁμολογήσῃς ἐν τῷ στόματί σου κύριον Ἰησοῦν καὶ πιστεύσῃς ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ σου ὅτι ὁ θεὸς αὐτὸν ἤγειρεν ἐκ νεκρῶν, σωθήσῃ·), and at v. 24 to the comparable scene at John 11:11–14, where Jesus instructs the people that Lazarus is asleep. It is questionable whether Paul’s definition of faith is of much help for the Matthaean notions of πίστις and σωτηρία. (d) See our comments above. No immediate influence from texts from Greek or Roman antiquity can be detected in Matthew’s pericope. 9. Point of View Whereas in Mark Jesus is portrayed in his role of Son of God, Matthew pictures him especially as Teacher.119 The implied author, and through him   See Chapter 4: Tradition and Redaction.   At v. 20 a reference to Lev 15:25 is adopted (Καὶ γυνή, ἐὰν ῥέῃ ῥύσει αἵματος ἡμέρας πλείους οὐκ ἐν καιρῷ τῆς ἀφέδρου αὐτῆς, ἐὰν καὶ ῥέῃ μετὰ τὴν ἄφεδρον αὐτῆς, πᾶσαι αἱ ἡμέραι ῥύσεως ἀκαθαρσίας αὐτῆς καθάπερ αἱ ἡμέραι τῆς ἀφέδρου, ἀκάθαρτος ἔσται.) (as in Mark 5:25). v. 20: Num 15:38f. (Λάλησον τοῖς υἱοῖς Ισραηλ καὶ ἐρεῖς πρὸς αὐτοὺς καὶ ποιησάτωσαν ἑαυτοῖς κράσπεδα ἐπὶ τὰ πτερύγια τῶν ἱματίων αὐτῶν εἰς τὰς γενεὰς αὐτῶν καὶ ἐπιθήσετε ἐπὶ τὰ κράσπεδα τῶν πτερυγίων κλῶσμα ὑακίνθινον. καὶ ἔσται ὑμῖν ἐν τοῖς κρασπέδοις καὶ ὄψεσθε αὐτὰ καὶ μνησθήσεσθε πασῶν τῶν ἐντολῶν κυρίου καὶ ποιήσετε αὐτὰς καὶ οὐ διαστραφήσεσθε ὀπίσω τῶν διανοιῶν ὑμῶν καὶ ὀπίσω τῶν ὀφθαλμῶν ὑμῶν, ἐν οἷς ὑμεῖς ἐκπορνεύετε ὀπίσω αὐτῶν,) and Deut 22:12 (Στρεπτὰ ποιήσεις σεαυτῷ ἐπὶ τῶν τεσσάρων κρασπέδων τῶν περιβολαίων σου, ἃ ἐὰν περιβάλῃ ἐν αὐτοῖς.). Via Matt 9:2: v. 22 θάρσει Exod 14:13; Joel 2:21f.; Bar 4:21 LXX etc. Eliminated: v. 18 (references to laying on of hands) via Acts 6:6: Num 27:18 (καὶ ἐλάλησεν κύριος πρὸς Μωυσῆν λέγων Λαβὲ πρὸς σεαυτὸν τὸν ᾿Ιησοῦν υἱὸν Ναυη, ἄνθρωπον, ὃς ἔχει πνεῦμα ἐν ἑαυτῷ, καὶ ἐπιθήσεις τὰς χεῖράς σου ἐπ᾽ αὐτὸν), 23 (καὶ ἐπέθηκεν τὰς χεῖρας αὐτοῦ ἐπ᾽ αὐτὸν καὶ συνέστησεν αὐτόν, καθάπερ συνέταξεν κύριος τῷ Μωυσῇ.); Deut 34:9 (καὶ ᾿Ιησοῦς υἱὸς Ναυη ἐνεπλήσθη πνεύματος συνέσεως, ἐπέθηκεν γὰρ Μωυσῆς τὰς χεῖρας αὐτοῦ ἐπ᾽ αὐτόν· καὶ εἰσήκουσαν αὐτοῦ οἱ υἱοὶ Ισραηλ καὶ ἐποίησαν καθότι ἐνετείλατο κύριος τῷ Μωυσῇ.) 119   Kingsbury, Matthew as Story, 63–64. Cf. “In the second part of his story (4:7–11:1), Matthew tells of Jesus’ ministry to Israel (4:7–11:1) and of Israel’s response to him 117

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the reader, is “with” Jesus when he enters the room and raises the girl. The readers are no longer dependent on the mediation of the apostolic eyewitness but can see for themselves what Jesus is doing. As Kingsbury has noted, Matthew as the implied author aligns with Jesus who, in turn, aligns with God. Jesus is good, i.e. intent on “thinking the things of God,” in contrast with “thinking the things of humans.” There is no middle way.120 The (general) message of Matthew’s story, in the words of Kingsbury, is that “[i]n the person of Jesus Messiah, his Son, God has drawn near to abide to the end of time with his people, the church, thus inaugurating the eschatological age of salvation.”121 The present pericope is a vivid illustration of this.

E. Narrative Analysis of Luke 8:40–56 Although the Gospel of Luke fits well within the literary tradition of ancient biography122 and therefore invites most naturally a narrative reading, Luke’s version of the story has received surprisingly little attention in current scholarship in comparison with its Matthaean and Markan parallels.123 This (11:2–16:20). Jesus’ ministry to Israel consists of teaching, preaching, and healing (4:23; 9:35; 11:1). Through his ministry, Jesus summons Israel to repentance and to life in the sphere of God’s end-time Rule” (76). See on this now more fully John Yueh-Han Yieh, One Teacher: Jesus’ Teaching Role in Matthew’s Gospel Report, BZNW 124 (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2004). 120   Kingsbury, Matthew as Story, 34. 121   Kingsbury, Matthew as Story, 42; italicized in the original. 122  Charles H. Talbert, What is a Gospel? The Genre of the Canonical Gospels (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1977); David E. Aune, “The Problem of the Genre of the Gospels: A Critique of C.H. Talbert’s What Is a Gospel?,” in Gospel Perspectives: Studies of History and Tradition in the Four Gospels, ed. R.T. France and David Wenham (Sheffield: JSOT, 1981), 2:9–60; Philip L. Shuler, A Genre for the Gospels: The Biographical Character of Matthew (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1982); Hubert Frankemölle, Evangelium – Begriff und Gattung: Ein Forschungsbericht (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1988); Robert A. Guelich, “The Gospel Genre,” in Das Evangelium und die Evangelien: Vorträge vom Tübinger Symposium 1982, ed. Peter Stuhlmacher (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1983; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1991), 183–219; Richard A. Burridge, What Are the Gospels? A Comparison with Graeco-Roman Biography (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans; Dearborn, MI: Dove, 1992, 22004); Larry W. Hurtado, “Gospel (Genre),” DJG 276–282; William S. Vorster, “Gospel Genre,” ABD 2:1077–1079; Adela Yarbro Collins, “Genre and the Gospels,” JR 75/2 (1995): 239–246; Burridge, “Biography,” in Handbook of Classical Rethoric in the Hellenistic Period, 330 B.C.–A.D. 400, ed. Stanley E. Porter (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 371–391; idem, “The Gospels and Acts,” Handbook, 507–532; Dirk Frickenschmidt, Evangelium als Biographie: Die vier Evangelien im Rahmen antiker Erzählkunst, TANZ 22 (Tübingen: Francke, 1997). 123   Recent narrative-critical studies of Luke 8:40–56 include: Joel B. Green, The Gospel according to Luke, NICNT (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 342–351; Christophe Pichon,

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is no doubt due to the prima facie impression that Luke follows in Mark’s footsteps with only a few seemingly minor departures from his storyline.124 On closer inspection, though, it turns out that Luke has managed to put his own imprint on the episode by providing context through a plethora of intertextual connections absent from both Mark and Matthew. We will conduct our narrative analysis along the same lines as we studied the other two versions. Since the inner coherency of Luke’s pericope has been investigated in sufficient detail in Chapter 3 (Structure and Form), we will now turn to the wider literary context of Luke-Acts to find out how the story of Jairus’s daughter and the haemorrhaging woman is anchored to Luke’s completed narrative. Again, our focus is on the Lukan text in its present constellation, that is, without making a distinction between material adopted from Mark, source material from elsewhere and material composed by Luke himself: whatever its origin, Luke has made it thoroughly his own. 1. The Implied Author/Narrator The implied author or narrator of Luke (and Acts) is a first-person narrator, one who makes his presence more prominently known than the other gospel writers, though first and foremost in the prologues to his work (Luke 1:1–4; Acts 1:1–2) and (presumably) in the we-sections of Acts, not in the present gospel pericope.125 Here he reveals himself through authorial comments and asides, such as the remark that the crowds were expecting Jesus (v. 40 ἦσαν γὰρ πάντες προσδοκῶντες αὐτόν, “for they were all waiting for him”), the background information about the dying girl, especially that she was Jairus’s twelve-year old “only daughter” (v. 42 θυγάτηρ μονογενὴς ἦν αὐτῷ ὡς ἐτῶν δώδεκα καὶ αὐτὴ ἀπέθνῃσκεν, “for he had an only daughter, about twelve years old, who was dying”), the woman’s dramatic medical history (v. 43 οὖσα ἐν ῥύσει αἵματος ἀπὸ ἐτῶν δώδεκα, ἥτις [ἰατροῖς Les revivifications en Luc-Actes: Enjeux théologiques et herméneutiques de quatre réécritures (Lc 7,11–17; 8,40–56; Ac 9,36–43; 20,7–12), Diffusion (Thèse de doctorat, Université de Strasbourg, 2007), 305–333. Nico Riemersma, “Een aanraking ten leven: de duiding van het kernwoord Lucas 8:42–48,” Coll 41 (2011): 327–343; Mira Stare, “Im Stress Wunder wirken (Die Heilung der blutenden Frau und die Auferweckung der Tochter des Jaïrus) – Lk 8,40–56,” in Zimmermann, Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen, 583–592. 124   Literature on literary study of Luke(-Acts): Robert C. Tannehill, The Narrative Unity of Luke-Acts: A Literary Interpretation, 2 vols. (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1986–1990); Jack Dean Kingsbury, Conflict in Luke: Jesus, Authorities, Disciples (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1991); William S. Kurz, Reading Luke-Acts: Dynamics of Biblical Narrative (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1993); Green, Luke; Jonathan Knight, Luke’s Gospel (London: Routledge, 1998); Paul Borgman, The Way according to Luke: Hearing the Whole Story of Luke-Acts (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006). 125   Vernon K. Robbins, “The Social Location of the Implied Author of Luke-Acts,” in The Social World of Luke-Acts: Models for Interpretation, ed. Jerome H. Neyrey (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 1991), 305–332; Kurz, Reading Luke-Acts, 9–12; Knight, Luke’s Gospel, 29–36.

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προσαναλώσασα ὅλον τὸν βίον] οὐκ ἴσχυσεν ἀπ’ οὐδενὸς θεραπευθῆναι, “(a woman) who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years, and [though she had spent all she had on physicians,] no one could cure her”), her fears and deliberations (v. 47 ἰδοῦσα δὲ ἡ γυνὴ ὅτι οὐκ ἔλαθεν, τρέμουσα ἦλθεν κτλ., “When the woman saw that she could not remain hidden, she came trembling etc.”), and his explicit agreement with the crowd’s assessment of the girl’s condition (v. 53 εἰδότες ὅτι ἀπέθανεν, “knowing that she was dead”). Compared to Mark, the implied author shows some restraint in the depiction of the inner feelings of his characters: he concentrates on externals, on what can be observed, heard and seen.126 Whereas Matthew has reduced the amount of actor’s text in comparison to his Markan source, Luke has increased it, notably so from a later point onwards in the narrative (Jairus’s request being couched in indirect speech), starting with the touching incident: v. 45 (Jesus to the bystanders): τίς ὁ ἁψάμενός μου, “Who touched me?”; v. 45 (Peter to Jesus): ἐπιστάτα, οἱ ὄχλοι συνέχουσίν σε καὶ ἀποθλίβουσιν, “Master, the crowds surround you and press in on you”; v. 46 (Jesus to Peter): ἥψατό μού τις, ἐγὼ γὰρ ἔγνων δύναμιν ἐξεληλυθυῖαν ἀπ’ ἐμοῦ, “Someone touched me; for I noticed that power had gone out of me”; v. 48 (Jesus to the woman): θυγάτηρ, ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε· πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace”; v. 49 (a messenger to Jairus): τέθνηκεν ἡ θυγάτηρ σου· μηκέτι σκύλλε τὸν διδάσκαλον, “Your daughter is dead; do not trouble the teacher any longer”; v. 50 (Jesus to Jairus, or to the messenger?): μὴ φοβοῦ, μόνον πίστευσον, καὶ σωθήσεται, “Do not fear. Only believe, and she will be saved”; v. 52 (Jesus to the bystanders/parents): μὴ κλαίετε, οὐ γὰρ ἀπέθανεν ἀλλὰ καθεύδει, “Do not weep; for she is not dead but sleeping”; v. 54 (Jesus to the girl): ἡ παῖς, ἔγειρε, “Child, get up!” As in Mark and Matthew, there is no direct interaction between Jairus and the woman. In Luke, Jesus is the main speaker (actor), above all in conversation with Peter, the woman and the bystanders. 2. The Implied Reader At the opposite end of the narratological spectrum stands the implied read er .127 A.M. Okorie has given the following general description of Luke’s implied reader, though without reference to the present pericope:   The tendency to focus on external phenomena is in fact typical of Luke’s theology in general, see Arie W. Zwiep, Christ, the Spirit and the Community of God: Essays on the Acts of the Apostles, WUNT 2/293 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 114–115. 127   Joseph B. Tyson, “The Implied Reader of Luke-Acts,” in Images of Judaism in Luke-Acts (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1992), 19–41; Kurz, Reading Luke-Acts, 12–17 (“Luke-Acts is intended primarily for Christian readers” (15); A.M. Okorie, “The Implied Reader of Luke’s Gospel,” R&T 4 (1997): 220–228. 126

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Luke’s implied reader is able to read and understand Greek, in both literary and Semitised forms. The reader is aware of the general outlines of Roman governmental history and the specific governmental workings of the Middle East. The Jewish religious practices of the synagogue and the Temple are familiar to him and he is knowledgeable about Israel’s history and its dependence on the Law, both ceremonially and pragmatically. The reader is cognisant of Jewish religious life but there are gaps in his knowledge of some technical terms and Jewish sects. For the most part Luke’s reader has a good grasp of local customs and social relations, as well as historical events of [the] first half of the first century. The reader is certainly aware of some traditions already concerning Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. Perhaps the most telling characteristic of Luke’s implied reader is his need to be assured of the truth of what has been taught about Jesus and to be taught even more, especially about the use of possessions.128

The expectation of Luke’s implied reader is attuned from the start to a positive outcome of Jairus’s seemingly desperate request. After all, in the previous chapter, Luke had recounted the success story of the raising of the widow’s only son at Nain (7:11–17). Now that he introduces the story of a man’s only daughter in a critical condition in quite similar terms, the reader is invited to anticipate – together with the welcoming crowd – that one more successful act of grace will be performed by Jesus. When Joel Green says that “Jairus and his wife are able to put aside their fear and to embrace faith in Jesus’ capacity to bring restoration,”129 he seems to claim more than the evidence can bear. Jairus’s (and his wife’s) faith commitment is implied at most (cf. v. 50: πίστευσον “start to believe”).130 In narrative-critical terms, however, this may well be a typical “gap” or an open space to be filled in by the reader as a potentially self-involving speech-act. The implied reader is supposed to be more versed in Greek than in other languages, which may explain why Mark’s Aramaic words have been omitted. Luke furthermore presupposes minimal general knowledge of Jewish religious institutions, local geography and ceremonial practices. The reference to Jairus as ἄρχων τῆς συναγωγῆς, “ruler of the synagogue” (v. 41) looks more like an attempt to ease the syntax of Mark or substitute a different term for the sake of variation than that it suggests accurate local knowledge of Capernaum having just one synagogue.131 The reference to “the edge/fringe (τοῦ κρασπέδου) of his clothes” (v. 44)132 can well be understood by a wider, non-Jewish audience without detailed knowledge of Jewish dress codes and religious customs.133 And the implied reader does not seem to be expected   Okorie, “Implied Reader,” 227–228.   Green, Luke, 344. 130   See the comments on the translation of Luke 8:50 in Chapter 2: Text and Translation. 131   Cf. the various translations discussed in Chapter 2: Text and Translation. 132   The words are text-critically disputed; see on this Appendix 1: Text and Transmission. 133   LSJ 990 and Suppl 185, and the comments in Chapter 2: Text and Translation, on Luke 8:44. 128 129

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to have any in-depth knowledge of Jewish purity regulations. Luke’s implied reader, then, stands more at a geographical and cultural distance than Mark’s implied audience. 3. Plot (Ordering of the Narration) As in Mark, Luke’s logical (chronological) sequence of events ( fabula) can be divided up into six narrative units, two of which belong to the narrative past (units 1 and 2), the other four to the narrative present (units 3–6), all in all covering a time-span of about twelve years. Narrative past (units 1–2): Unit 1 (a, b, c) – Twelve years ago, a woman fell ill because of haemorrhages (a); she looked in vain for help everywhere (b), until she heard about Jesus and decided to turn to him for help (recent past) (c). From the narrator’s perspective, the beginning of the woman’s illness antedates the public ministry of Jesus. Unit 2 (d, e, f ) – In the recent past (presumably during Jesus’s public ministry), a twelve-year old girl had turned critically ill (d). At some point her father decided to turn to Jesus for help (e) and left his house to call in Jesus for help ( f ). Narrative present (units 3–6): Unit 3 (g, h, i) – Jesus arrives and is welcomed by a crowd at the seashore (g). The father finds Jesus and urges him to come with him (h). Jesus and his disciples set off to his house (i). Unit 4 ( j, k, l, m, n) – On the way, the woman finds Jesus and touches him ( j). She is healed instantaneously (k). Jesus realizes that power has gone forth from him (l) and interrogates the bystanders (m). Then Jesus converses with the woman (n). Unit 5 (o, p, q) – At some point between ( f ) and (n) the little girl dies (o). A messenger is sent to inform Jairus about his daughter’s death ( p). Despite the saddening news, Jesus continues his journey (q). Unit 6 (r, s, t, u, v) – Jesus arrives at the house (r), dismisses the crowd (s), and enters the house/the room (t). He raises the girl (u) and gives further instructions (v). The transition from fabula to plot is basically the same as in Mark: g, h (d, e, f ), i, j (a, b, c), k-v that is, the narrative units 1 (a, b, c) and 2 (d, e, f ) have been integrated in the story as flashbacks (in reverse order). Narrative future – As in Mark, there is no follow-up to the story, no flash forward of the effects of Jesus’s miracle: the story time ends somewhat abruptly at Jesus’s command to tell no one what had happened (Luke 8:56). 4. Motifs and Theme Building on Freedman’s definition of a motif, Luke 8:40–56 illustrates, both by telling and showing, the motifs of faith and salvation, two motifs that are otherwise dominant in the theological outlook of Luke’s two-volume work.134  Joseph A. Fitzmyer, The Gospel according to Luke I–IX: A New Translation with

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The reassuring words of Jesus to the woman that her faith has saved her and that she may now go in peace (v. 48 ὁ δὲ εἶπεν αὐτῇ· θυγάτηρ, ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε· πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην) recall 7:50, in which Jesus uttered exactly the same words to the (forgiven) sinful woman in Simon the Pharisee’s house: εἶπεν δὲ πρὸς τὴν γυναῖκα· ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε· πορεύου εἰς εἰρήνην. Later on these words will be addressed to the cleansed Samaritan leper (17:19 καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ· ἀναστὰς πορεύου· ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε) and to the formerly blind beggar near Jericho (18:42 καὶ ὁ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν αὐτῷ· ἀνάβλεψον· ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε). Cf. Acts 3:16 (καὶ ἐπὶ τῇ πίστει τοῦ ὀνόματος αὐτοῦ τοῦτον ὃν θεωρεῖτε καὶ οἴδατε, ἐστερέωσεν τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ, καὶ ἡ πίστις ἡ δι’ αὐτοῦ ἔδωκεν αὐτῷ τὴν ὁλοκληρίαν ταύτην ἀπέναντι πάντων ὑμῶν).135 That is, the notion of faith satisfies Freedman’s criterion of frequency.136 Faith is a prominent theme in the Gospel of Luke and in Acts. While the connection between faith and salvation stems from tradition and is in fact characteristic of the Jesus tradition in general, Luke works it out in his own special way. As in Mark, the healing of the woman is the result of her faith-relationship, i.e. her faith in God and/or her faith in Jesus and all that it entails.137 Given the wider use of faith and salvation in Luke’s two-volume work, though, it is likely that faith and salvation in the Lukan healing stories have wider connotations than Mark’s. Luke has a broader concept of salvation.138 Introduction and Commentary, AB 28, 2 vols. (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1981), 143–270; Joel B. Green, The Theology of the Gospel of Luke, NTTh (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995); Jacob Jervell, The Theology of the Acts of the Apostles, NTTh (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996); Hahn, Theologie, 1:547–583; Marshall, New Testament Theology, 129–206; Wilckens, Theologie, 1/4:88–150; Matera, New Testament Theology, 51–97; Schnelle, Theologie, 431–489; Darrell L. Bock, A Theology of Luke and Acts, Biblical Theology of the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2012); Torsten Jantsch, Jesus, der Retter: Die Soteriologie des lukanischen Doppelwerks, WUNT 381 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2017). 135   See also 8:12 (οἱ δὲ παρὰ τὴν ὁδόν εἰσιν οἱ ἀκούσαντες, εἶτα ἔρχεται ὁ διάβολος καὶ αἴρει τὸν λόγον ἀπὸ τῆς καρδίας αὐτῶν, ἵνα μὴ πιστεύσαντες σωθῶσιν); Acts 16:36 (ἀπήγγειλεν δὲ ὁ δεσμοφύλαξ τοὺς λόγους [τούτους] πρὸς τὸν Παῦλον ὅτι ἀπέσταλκαν οἱ στρατηγοὶ ἵνα ἀπολυθῆτε· νῦν οὖν ἐξελθόντες πορεύεσθε ἐν εἰρήνῃ). 136   Freedman, Literary Motif, 126. 137  With Morgan, Roman Faith. 138   Green, The Theology of the Gospel of Luke, 94: “Luke uses the language of salvation more than any other New Testament writer, but employs that language in co-texts whose effect is to give salvation broad meaning. Salvation is, preeminently, status reversal, and this includes not only the raising up of ‘lowly’ persons whom Jesus encounters in the Gospel, but also the people of Israel as a people, promised liberation from the oppressive hand of Rome. Salvation is also the coming of the kingdom of God, then, the coming of God’s reign of justice, to deconstruct the worldly systems and values at odds with the purpose of God. Salvation also entails membership in the new community God is drawing together around Jesus, a community into which all – especially the previously excluded for reasons of sin, and its corollary, despised sta-

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Hans Klein has observed that, in Luke-Acts and in this passage, faith is manifested “in dreifacher Gestalt: a) als Vertrauen, daß Jesus heilen oder retten kann, b) als Vertrauen auf das Wort Jesu und c) als Durchhaltevermogen,” and he adds that the perspectives “immer wieder ineinander über[gehen].”139 Still, correct as this observation is, this does not fully answer the question of the object (and hence the nature) of the faith involved. Does Luke have a distinctive conception of faith in comparison with the other evangelists?140 Recalling the observations made above about first- and second-order causality in Mark and Matthew, and in the light of christological statements of belief in God and Christ elsewhere in Luke and Acts, the object of faith in this Lukan miracle story will be God (first-order causality) and Jesus (second-order causality) together, or, more accurately, God through Jesus (rather than God and Jesus). In this respect, Luke sides with the other evangelists and early-Christian convictions about Jesus’s relationship to God. Obviously, Luke inherited the phrase “Your faith has healed/saved you” from tradition (Mark). Already at that stage, it must have implied, in the words of Joseph Fitzmyer, “some recognition of him [= Jesus] at least as God’s envoy.”141 Thus, on the level of Lukan composition, Luke’s broader (read: post-resurrection, Christian) conception of faith must be taken into account. If the case of the Samaritan leper (Luke 17:11–19) is representative of Luke’s wider perspective, it is God who is to be praised for salvation, as both the narrator (δοξάζων τὸν θεόν, v. 15) and Jesus (δοῦναι δόξαν τῷ θεῷ, v. 18) expressly confirm, even though the Samaritan “prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him” (ἔπεσεν ἐπὶ πρόσωπον παρὰ τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ εὐχαριστῶν αὐτῷ).142 In line with my earlier work on Lukan Christology I hear a subordinationist undertone here, hence not God and Jesus, but God tus – are invited to participate in the blessings of the kingdom as well as to share in its service.” Also Jantsch, Jesus, der Retter, 40–41. 139  Hans Klein, Das Lukasevangelium, KEK 1/3 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2006), 326. Also 56–57. 140   On the notion of faith in Lukan theology, see e.g. Wolfgang Schenk, “Glaube im lukanischen Doppelwerk,” in Glaube im Neuen Testament: Studien zu Ehren von Hermann Binder anlasslich seines 70. Geburtstags, ed. Ferdinand Hahn and Hans Klein, BThSt 7 (NeukirchenVluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1982), 69-92; Morgan, Roman Faith, 374–381 (Luke), 381–391 (Acts). 141   Fitzmyer, Luke, 1:236–237. 142  Cf. Carroll, “Jesus as Healer,” 274–275, 277. As Fitzmyer, Luke, 2:1155, says in this regard: “The glorification of God expresses itself in gratitude to Jesus, God’s agent (…) Only here in the NT is thanks expressed to Jesus; it is addressed elsewhere to God himself.” Klein, Lukasevangelium, 566, makes an interesting remark on this passage: “Die christliche Gemeinde, die diese Geschichte weitergibt, hat sich vom Judentum entfernt. Man weiß gar nicht mehr, daß für Heilung von Aussatz speziell ein Reinigungsopfer dargebracht und Gott dabei gedankt wurde. Die eigene, christliche Art der Frömmigkeit wird zur Voraussetzung des Denkens.”

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through Jesus. In Luke-Acts, appeals to faith in Jesus are second-order causality statements.143 The second dominant motif to emerge in the story is that of salvation.144 It occurs in a literal sense in the acts of healing of the woman and the resuscitation of the girl. These literal references, though, normally imply wider dimensions of salvation. In Luke-Acts, salvation is a multifaceted concept that includes not only physical restoration but also eschatological salvation.145 References that cluster around the Lukan motifs of faith and salvation include the acts of prostration, the healing power, the healing touch, the command not to fear and the notions of unbelief, exultation and secrecy. The acts of prostration by Jairus (v. 41 καὶ ἰδοὺ ἦλθεν ἀνὴρ … καὶ πεσὼν παρὰ τοὺς πόδας [τοῦ] Ἰησοῦ παρεκάλει αὐτὸν κτλ.) and the haemorrhaging woman (v. 47 ἦλθεν καὶ προσπεσοῦσα αὐτῷ κτλ.) remind Luke’s reader of an earlier incident in which a leper knelt down before Jesus to ask for healing (5:12 καὶ ἰδοὺ ἀνὴρ πλήρης λέπρας· ἰδὼν δὲ τὸν Ἰησοῦν, πεσὼν ἐπὶ πρόσωπον ἐδεήθη αὐτοῦ κτλ.). Later on, in 17:16, a Samaritan cleansed from leprosy will also prostrate before Jesus (καὶ ἔπεσεν ἐπὶ πρόσωπον παρὰ τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ εὐχαριστῶν αὐτῷ·), in that case as a token of gratitude for the healing performed. Luke’s fondness of this christological theme is confirmed by the contrast setting in Acts 10:25, where Peter objects to the prostration of Cornelius (Ὡς δὲ ἐγένετο τοῦ εἰσελθεῖν τὸν Πέτρον, συναντήσας αὐτῷ ὁ Κορνήλιος πεσὼν ἐπὶ τοὺς πόδας προσεκύνησεν κτλ.). The motif of healing power (δύναμις) (v. 46) was already found in 5:17, where a general reference was made to the presence of “the power of the Lord to heal” (καὶ δύναμις κυρίου ἦν εἰς τὸ ἰᾶσθαι αὐτόν), and in 6:19, in which the entire people flocked around Jesus and tried to touch him, “for power came out from him and healed all of them” (ὅτι δύναμις παρ’ αὐτοῦ ἐξήρχετο καὶ ἰᾶτο πάντας, cf. 4:36). The implied reader will not be surprised to see power active in the healing event, but he will be surprised to learn 143   See Arie W. Zwiep, The Ascension of the Messiah in Lukan Christology, NovTSup 87 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 197–198; idem, “Jesus Made both Lord and Christ (Acts 2:36): Some Reflections on the Altitude of Lukan Christology,” in idem, Christ, the Spirit and the Community of God, 139–156. 144  Cf. Klein, Lukasevangelium, 55–56 (“Irdisches Heil und himmlische Rettung”). 145   For Luke’s view of salvation, see, inter al., Ian Howard Marshall, Luke, Historian and Theologian, NTP 3 (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 1970, 31998), 77–215; François Bovon, Luc le théologien, MoBi 5 (Geneva: Labor et Fides, [1978] 32006), 13–86, 253–305, 472–481; Fitzmyer, Luke, 1:143–270; Bovon, “Das Heil in den Schriften des Lukas,” in idem, Lukas in neuer Sicht: Gesammelte Aufsätze, trans. Elisabeth Hartmann, Albert Frey and Peter Strauss, BThSt 8 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1985), 61–74; Mark A. Powell, “Salvation in Luke-Acts,” WW 12 (1992): 5–12; Gert J. Steyn, “Soteriological Perspectives in Luke’s Gospel,” in Salvation in the New Testament, ed. Jan G. van der Watt, 67–99, and especially Jantsch, Jesus, der Retter.

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that this power seemed to emanate from Jesus without his prior consent or initiative.146 The motif of the healing touch (ἅπτω) and the accompanying transmission of divine power (vv. 44–47 and 54) is found in 5:13 (καὶ ἐκτείνας τὴν χεῖρα ἥψατο αὐτοῦ λέγων· θέλω, καθαρίσθητι· καὶ εὐθέως ἡ λέπρα ἀπῆλθεν ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ), and in the summary statement 6:19 (καὶ πᾶς ὁ ὄχλος ἐζήτουν ἅπτεσθαι αὐτοῦ, ὅτι δύναμις παρ’ αὐτοῦ ἐξήρχετο καὶ ἰᾶτο πάντας). In 7:39 Jesus had been accused by a Pharisee that he let himself be touched by a sinful woman (ἰδὼν δὲ ὁ Φαρισαῖος ὁ καλέσας αὐτὸν εἶπεν ἐν ἑαυτῷ λέγων· οὗτος εἰ ἦν προφήτης, ἐγίνωσκεν ἂν τίς καὶ ποταπὴ ἡ γυνὴ ἥτις ἅπτεται αὐτοῦ, ὅτι ἁμαρτωλός ἐστιν).147 Finally, the command not to fear (v. 50)148 and the motif of unbelief149 also connect the passage with previous and following episodes and thus reveal common (sub)themes in Luke’s narrative, as do the motifs of exultation (8:56a)150 and, to a lesser extent, of secrecy (v. 56b).151 5. Rhetoric Luke’s is a special case since it is part of a two-volume work. The rhetorical strategies detected in Mark are also at work in Luke but an extra dimension must be taken into account because of the structural connections with the Book of Acts: the episode is not only part of the Jesus tradition, but it has become part of the story of the community. Elsewhere I have argued that 146   On the Lukan notion of δύναμις, see Walter Grundmann, “δύναμαι κτλ.,” TWNT 2:286–318 (TDNT 2:284–317); Gerhard Friedrich, “δύναμις,” EWNT 1:860–867; John M. Hull, Hellenistic Magic and the Synoptic Tradition, SBT II/28 (London: SCM, 1974), 105–115. 147   Cf. also Acts 3:7; 19:11–12. 148   Luke 1:13 εἶπεν δὲ πρὸς αὐτὸν ὁ ἄγγελος· μὴ φοβοῦ, Ζαχαρία, 
διότι εἰσηκούσθη ἡ δέησίς σου; 1:30 Καὶ εἶπεν ὁ ἄγγελος αὐτῇ· μὴ φοβοῦ, Μαριάμ, εὗρες γὰρ χάριν παρὰ τῷ θεῷ; 2:10 καὶ εἶπεν αὐτοῖς ὁ ἄγγελος· μὴ φοβεῖσθε, ἰδοὺ γὰρ εὐαγγελίζομαι ὑμῖν χαρὰν μεγάλην ἥτις ἔσται παντὶ τῷ λαῷ; 5:10 καὶ εἶπεν πρὸς τὸν Σίμωνα ὁ Ἰησοῦς· μὴ φοβοῦ· 12:32 Μὴ φοβοῦ, τὸ μικρὸν ποίμνιον, ὅτι εὐδόκησεν ὁ πατὴρ ὑμῶν δοῦναι ὑμῖν τὴν βασιλείαν; cf. Acts 18:9 Εἶπεν δὲ ὁ κύριος ἐν νυκτὶ δι’ ὁράματος τῷ Παύλῳ· μὴ φοβοῦ, ἀλλὰ λάλει καὶ μὴ σιωπήσῃς. 149   Luke 24:41–43: ἔτι δὲ ἀπιστούντων αὐτῶν ἀπὸ τῆς χαρᾶς καὶ θαυμαζόντων εἶπεν αὐτοῖς· ἔχετέ τι βρώσιμον ἐνθάδε; οἱ δὲ ἐπέδωκαν αὐτῷ ἰχθύος ὀπτοῦ μέρος· καὶ λαβὼν ἐνώπιον αὐτῶν ἔφαγεν. 150   Luke 2:47 (ἐξίσταντο δὲ πάντες οἱ ἀκούοντες αὐτοῦ ἐπὶ τῇ συνέσει καὶ ταῖς ἀποκρίσεσιν αὐτοῦ); 4:32; 24:22; Acts 2:7 (with further references in the apparatus at Luke 2:47). 151   The motif of secrecy, a well-known literary device in Mark, is adopted by Luke from 4:41 onward: 4:41 (καὶ ἐπιτιμῶν οὐκ εἴα αὐτὰ λαλεῖν, ὅτι ᾔδεισαν τὸν χριστὸν αὐτὸν εἶναι); 5:14 (καὶ αὐτὸς παρήγγειλεν αὐτῷ μηδενὶ εἰπεῖν, ἀλλ’ ἀπελθὼν δεῖξον σεαυτὸν τῷ ἱερεῖ καὶ προσένεγκε περὶ τοῦ καθαρισμοῦ σου καθὼς προσέταξεν Μωϋσῆς, εἰς μαρτύριον αὐτοῖς); 9:21 (ὁ δὲ ἐπιτιμήσας αὐτοῖς παρήγγειλεν μηδενὶ λέγειν τοῦτο), 36 (καὶ ἐν τῷ γενέσθαι τὴν φωνὴν εὑρέθη Ἰησοῦς μόνος. καὶ αὐτοὶ ἐσίγησαν καὶ οὐδενὶ ἀπήγγειλαν ἐν ἐκείναις ταῖς ἡμέραις οὐδὲν ὧν ἑώρακαν).

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Luke-Acts as a whole is patterned after the device of σύγκρισις or conlatio, according to which persons and events are compared and/or contrasted.152 In this particular narrative there are many similarities with the raising of Tabitha in Acts 9:36–43, an episode which in itself parallels the raising of Eutychus by Paul in Acts 20:7–12. By hindsight, Tabitha’s resuscitation by Peter (!) recalls the raising of Jairus’s daughter by Jesus – setting Peter clearly in the line of Jesus, a subtle hint of his apostolic authority over against Paul’s, as I have argued in the said article. It is therefore no accident that, unlike the Matthaean and Markan parallels, Peter is singled out in this pericope. 6. Setting The spatial setting of Luke is comparable to that of Mark. The scene starts at the shore of the lake, the sea setting to be supplied by the context. Vv. 40–42 are presumably situated in the open (different from Matthew, where the action starts in a house). It is assumed that Jairus walks back with Jesus and his disciples, though different from Mark and Matthew, this is not stated expressly. The intervention of the haemorrhaging woman also seems to take place on the road, and so does the arrival of the messenger from Jairus’s house. While from v. 51 onwards Jesus seems to move straightforwardly from the place where he is to the house into the room where the child lies, the precise stages are vague, due to the translational ambivalence of the εἰσconstructions (to/into).153 As in Mark, there are five extra people – witnesses – in the room where Jesus performs the resuscitation miracle: Peter, John, and James, and the child’s parents (Luke 8:51). Luke’s temporal setting – As in Mark, the incident with the haemorrhaging woman causes a fatal delay. From the very first introduction of both the girl and the woman, the notion of twelve years plays a role, more prominently so than in Mark, where the age of the girl comes as an afterthought (Mark 5:42). The pericope’s social setting – That the story features a man and a woman was already part of the tradition before Luke took up his pen to write. But the male-female pairing takes special prominence in Luke’s account, since it is part of a typical narrative strategy throughout Luke-Acts.154 Possibly the wider Lukan contexts also add to the rich-poor contrast. Does it perhaps also front the Jew vs. non-Jew contrast? 152   Arie W. Zwiep, “Putting Paul in Place with a Trojan Horse: Luke’s Rhetorical Strategy in the Acts of the Apostles in Defence of the Pauline Gospel,” in idem, Christ, the Spirit and the Community of God, 157–175. 153   See the relevant translational notes in Chapter 2: Text and Transmission. 154   Turid Karlsen Seim, The Double Message: Patterns of Gender in Luke-Acts (Nashville: Abingdon, 1994), 15.

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The architectural setting – Throughout his work Luke adapts the Palestinian rural setting into a more urban (Hellenistic) setting. Presumably, the implied reader will conceive of Jairus’s house as a building in an urban setting. Joel Green notes that the architectural details of the narrative opening, especially the allusion to the synagogue, are not insignificant: “Since the onset of his public ministry, Jesus has generally met with opposition within the space delimited by the synagogue and from those, especially scribes, whose interpretive agenda are embodied in the teaching practices of the synagogue. More and more, Jesus will be found in homes rather than in synagogues, a condition that will be recapitulated in the mission of the early church according to Acts.”155 The typical props are those already found in Mark. So the house, the touch of the garment (but not the κράσπεδον), the role of hand/hands, and the significance of food. Especially the latter may add to the depth of the story in the light of Luke’s attention to (eucharistic) food elsewhere in his two-volume work.156 7. Characters and Characterization In Luke 8:40–56 the following characters play a role in the plot development (listed in the order of appearance): Jesus, a crowd (sg.), Jairus the synagogueleader, his twelve-year old daughter on the verge of death (by implication), the accompanying crowds (pl.), a woman with haemorrhages, [physicians and other] (failing) helpers, Peter (v. 45), an unnamed messenger (sg.) from Jairus’s house, John, James, and the mother of the child. There is no direct discourse between Jesus and Jairus, “with the result that Jesus’ response seems all the more immediate.”157 The Lukan Jairus stands in the line of pious and exemplary Israelites in Luke-Acts, such as Zechariah and Elizabeth (1:5–6), Simeon and Anna (2:25, καὶ ἰδού), Joseph of Arimathea (23:50–51, καὶ ἰδού), the disciples of Emmaus (24:13, καὶ ἰδού), and many more. The protagonists and antagonists have roughly similar roles as in Mark but the figure of Peter stands out, as we already observed in the previous section. He is a more prominent character in Luke’s version than he is in either Mark or Matthew.158 He is explicitly identified as the disciple who gives a reply to Jesus’s surprising question. This concurs with Luke’s otherwise special treatment of Peter as a spokesperson of the (twelve) disciples elsewhere in Luke and Acts. This is the third reference to Peter in Luke (cf. 5:8 “Simon Peter”; 6:14 “Simon, whom he   Green, Luke, 346 (my emphasis).   See the commentaries of Luke and Acts ad loc. 157  So Green, Luke, 346. 158   This is the case regardless of the textual variant καὶ οἱ σὺν αὐτῷ in Luke 8:45. See on this variant, Appendix 1: Text and Transmission. 155

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named Peter”), the first in which he is simply referred to as “Peter,” which is, a few instances excepted, Luke’s usual designation of him.159 That Peter addresses Jesus as ἐπιστάτης is taken by Green as an example of the disciple’s typical lack of understanding: “With this epithet Peter acknowledges Jesus’ leadership, but little else regarding his identity or purpose.”160 That the woman has given up her entire living to medical treatment (v. 43 ἰατροῖς προσαναλώσασα ὅλον τὸν βίον, if original) serves not only to stress the gravity of her condition but also resonates with 15:12 and 30 (the Parable of the Prodigal and His Brother), in which the spending of the means of subsistence is equally ineffective, and (as a contrast) with 21:4 parr., where a widow “out of her poverty put all she had to live on” (ἐκ τοῦ ὑστερήματος αὐτῆς πάντα τὸν βίον ὃν εἶχεν ἔβαλεν) into the temple treasury and was praised for it by Jesus, and with other texts in Luke-Acts in which possessions are an issue. This touches upon Luke’s wider treatment of the rich and the poor and the role of possession for followers of Jesus.161 This way, the functionality and applicability of the story have been enlarged. In a sense the twelve-year old girl undergoes the most radical transformation of all: from a dying girl to a dead girl to a resurrected girl. But the crowd also transforms in the course of the narrative: from an accompanying (expecting) crowd to a hindering (and dismissed) crowd to a witnessing crowd.162 159   In the four gospels Peter is introduced as “Simon, who is called Peter” (Matt 4:18 Σίμωνα τὸν λεγόμενον Πέτρον; see also 10:2 “Simon, also known as Peter”; 16:16 “Simon Peter”); “Simon” in 16:17; 17:25; further simply “Peter” in 8:14; 14:28, 29; 15:15; 16:18, 22, 23; 17:1, 4, 24; 19:27; 26:33, 35, 37, 40, 58, 69, 73, 75; “Simon (to whom he gave the name Peter)” (Mark 3:16 ἐπέθηκεν ὄνομα τῷ Σίμωνι Πέτρον; “Simon” in 1:16 bis, 30, 36, 37b; further just “Peter”: Mark 5:37; 8:29, 32, 33; 9:2, 5; 10:28; 11:21; 13:3; 14:29, 33, 37a, 54, 66, 67, 70, 72; 16:7), “Simon Peter” (Luke 5:8; 6:14), “Simon” in 4:38 bis; 5:3, 4, 5, 10 bis; further just “Peter”: Luke 8:45, 51; 9:20, 28, 32, 33; 12:41; 18:28; 22:8, 34, 54, 55, 58, 60, 61 bis, [24:12]), “(Andrew) Simon Peter’s brother)” [John 1:41; “‘You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas (which is translated Peter)” (John 1:43 σὺ εἶ Σίμων ὁ υἱὸς Ἰωάννου, σὺ κληθήσῃ Κηφᾶς, ὃ ἑρμηνεύεται Πέτρος); 6:68]. In John, he is often referred to as “Simon Peter” (1:40; 6:8, 68; 13:6, 9, 24, 36; 18:10, 15, 25; 20:2, 6; 21:2, 3, 7, 11, 15); Simon in John 1:41, 21:15–17 (3 x “Simon son of John”); further just “Peter” in 1:45; 13:8, 37; 18:11, 16 bis, 17, 18, 26, 27; 20:3, 4; 21:7, 17, 20, 21). In the apostolic list of Acts 1:13 he is simply introduced as “Peter,” which henceforth is his usual designation, with the exception of 10:5 (Σίμωνά τινα ὃς ἐπικαλεῖται Πέτρος), 18 (Σίμων ὁ ἐπικαλούμενος Πέτρος), 32 (Σίμωνα ὃς ἐπικαλεῖται Πέτρος) en 11:13 (Σίμωνα τὸν ἐπικαλούμενον Πέτρον) and 15:14, where he is called “Simeon” (Συμεών, as in 2 Pet 1:1). 160   Green, Luke, 348. Jesus addressed as ἐπιστάτης (8:45 εἶπεν ὁ Πέτρος· ἐπιστάτα) recalls 5:5 (καὶ ἀποκριθεὶς Σίμων εἶπεν· ἐπιστάτα), 8:24 (λέγοντες· ἐπιστάτα ἐπιστάτα), and will come back in 9:33 (εἶπεν ὁ Πέτρος πρὸς τὸν Ἰησοῦν· ἐπιστάτα), 9:49 (Ἀποκριθεὶς δὲ Ἰωάννης εἶπεν· ἐπιστάτα) and 17:13 αὐτοὶ ἦραν φωνὴν λέγοντες· Ἰησοῦ ἐπιστάτα, ἐλέησον ἡμᾶς. See on this title further the notes on Luke 8:45 (Chapter 2: Text and Translation). 161   On this theme, see esp. Christopher M. Hays, Luke’s Wealth Ethics: A Study in Their Coherence and Character, WUNT 2/275 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010). 162  Cf. Green, Luke, 346 (the crowd’s mood is changing)

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8. Intertextuality We will first look for cross references on the level of complete stories, then focus on common motives, and finally on connections on the level of detail. A brief glance into Appendix 2 (Text and Intertext) suggests that Luke has particularly worked out inner-textual allusions to his own (two-volume) work.163 (a) The two miracles are part of a larger repertoire of healing miracles performed by Jesus, most of which Luke shares with one or more of the other gospel writers, though some are found in Luke only (see Chapter 3); there are also numerous parallels with Acts, among them the raising of Tabitha in Acts 9 as the most prominent parallel. As has long been recognized by Lukan scholars, Jesus’s sermon in the synagogue of Nazareth (Luke 4:16–30)164 and the programmatic statement of his mission in terms of the Isaianic prophetic words, is “foreshadowing in a way the account of the entire ministry that is to follow.”165 Isa 61:1; 58:6; 61:2

Luke 4:18–19

1 Πνεῦμα κυρίου ἐπ᾽ ἐμέ,

18 πνεῦμα κυρίου ἐπ’ ἐμὲ

οὗ εἵνεκεν ἔχρισέν με·

οὗ εἵνεκεν ἔχρισέν με

εὐαγγελίσασθαι πτωχοῖς ἀπέσταλκέν με,

εὐαγγελίσασθαι πτωχοῖς, ἀπέσταλκέν με,

Luke 7:22

ἰάσασθαι τοὺς συντετριμμένους τῇ καρδίᾳ,

  See Appendix 2: Text and Intertext, nos. 341–580 (right column, NA28).  A Forschungsbericht and a bibliography (1972–1989) can be found in Christopher J. Schreck, “The Nazareth Pericope: Luke 4,16–30 in Recent Study,” in L’Évangile de Luc / The Gospel of Luke: Revised and Enlarged Edition of L’Évangile de Luc: Problèmes littéraires et théologiques, ed. Frans Neirynck, BETL 32 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, Peeters, [1973] 1989), 398–471. 165   Fitzmyer, Luke, 1:526. On the scriptural citation, see Martin Rese, Alttestamentliche Motive in der Christologie des Lukas, SNT 1 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus, Gerd Mohn, 1969), 143–154; Bart Koet, “‘Today This Scripture Has Been Fulfilled in Your Ears’: Jesus’ Explanation of Scripture in Luke 4,16–30,” in idem, Five Studies on Interpretation of Scripture in Luke-Acts, SNTA 14 (Leuven: Leuven University Press, Peeters, 1989), 24–55; idem, “Isaiah in Luke-Acts,” in Isaiah in the New Testament, ed. Steve Moyise and Maarten J.J. Menken (London: T&T Clark, 2005), 79–100; Joop Smit, “The Two Quotations from Isaiah in Luke 3–4,” in The Scriptures of Israel in Jewish and Christian Tradition: Essays in Honour of Maarten J.J. Menken, ed. Bart Koet, Steve Moyise and Joseph Verheyden, NovTSup 148 (Leiden: Brill, 2013), 41–55: “This quotation, in which Jesus reveals who he is, to what purpose he is sent and whose interest he thereby will serve, functions as a motto of at least the first part of his two-volume work” (55); Jantsch, Jesus, der Retter, 185–189. 163

164

E. Narrative Analysis of Luke 8:40–56 κηρύξαι αἰχμαλώτοις ἄφεσιν

κηρύξαι αἰχμαλώτοις ἄφεσιν

καὶ τυφλοῖς ἀνάβλεψιν,

καὶ τυφλοῖς ἀνάβλεψιν,

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τυφλοὶ ἀναβλέπουσιν, χωλοὶ περιπατοῦσιν, λεπροὶ καθαρίζονται καὶ κωφοὶ ἀκούουσιν, νεκροὶ ἐγείρονται, πτωχοὶ εὐαγγελίζονται·

[Isa 58:6] ἀπόστελλε τεθραυσμένους ἐν ἀφέσει

ἀποστεῖλαι τεθραυσμένους ἐν ἀφέσει,

2 καλέσαι ἐνιαυτὸν κυρίου 19 κηρύξαι ἐνιαυτὸν δεκτὸν κυρίου δεκτόν. καὶ ἡμέραν ἀνταποδόσεως …

Th