Metaphor, Narrative, and Parables in Q (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen Zum Neuen Testament) 9783161523380, 9783161528439, 3161523385

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Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Herausgeber / Editor Jörg Frey (Zürich) Mitherausgeber / Associate Editors Markus Bockmuehl (Oxford) James A. Kelhoffer (Uppsala) Hans-Josef Klauck (Chicago, IL) Tobias Nicklas (Regensburg)

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Metaphor, Narrative, and Parables in Q Edited by

Dieter T. Roth, Ruben Zimmermann and Michael Labahn

Mohr Siebeck

Dieter T. Roth, born 1975; 1997 BA; 2004 MDiv; 2009 Doctor of Philosophy from the University of Edinburgh; since 2010 Post-Doctoral Research Fellow at the Johannes Gutenberg-University, Mainz. Ruben Zimmermann, born 1968; 1999 Dr. theol. from the Faculty of Theology at the Ruprecht-Karls-University, Heidelberg; 2003 Habilitation at the Protestant Faculty of Theology at the Ludwig-Maximilians-University, Munich; since 2009 Professor of New Testament at the Johannes Gutenberg-University, Mainz. Michael Labahn, born 1964; Dr. theol. from the Faculty of Theology at the GeorgAugust-University, Göttingen; since 2009 Associate Professor (Privatdozent) at the Martin-Luther-University, Halle-Wittenberg; since 2010 minister of the Protestant church of Anhalt; since 2012 External Research Collaborator of the North-West-University South Africa, Potchefstroom Campus.

e-ISBN PDF 978-3-16-152843-9 ISBN 978-3-16-152338-0 ISSN 0512-1604 (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament) Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2014  by Mohr Siebeck Tübingen, Germany.  www.mohr.de 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, microfilms and storage and processing in electronic s­ ystems. The book was printed by Gulde-Druck in Tübingen on non-aging paper and bound by Buch­binderei Spinner in Ottersweier. Printed in Germany.

Dedicated to Dieter Zeller On the Occasion of his 75th Birthday

Preface This volume presents the published versions of papers originally delivered at the conference “Metaphorik und Narrativität in der Logienquelle Q/ Metaphor and Narrative in Q” held at the Johannes Gutenberg-Universität Mainz from the 30th of August to the 1st of September, 2012. One of the primary goals of this conference was to provide an opportunity for the discussion of recent trends in German- and English-speaking scholarship on Q. Consonant with the international nature of the colloqium and the exchange of ideas that took place there, the language of presentation at the conference has been retained as the language of publication in the conference volume. In addition, and as a further reflection of the international context of even the English-language contributions, we have preserved the differing style and spelling conventions of contributors hailing from various English-speaking countries and traditions. As already revealed in its title, the conference in Mainz was particularly interested in examining and considering the presence and function of narratival and metaphorical elements in Q. At the same time, we also intended for the conference to provide a forum in which the question could be raised of the extent to which a word-level reconstruction of Q may or may not be neccessary for studies of Q focusing on the narratological aspects of this document and/or the imagery employed in the text. In other words, can studies of narrative and metaphor provide insight into Q that is not dependent on a word-for-word reconstruction of Q? Though the contributors to this volume reveal a variety of perspectives on the necessity or appropriateness of such Q reconstructions, the conference sought to offer an initial opportunity to consider whether Q studies can, or indeed should, seek to move beyond the now traditional approaches to this “text” based on source- and redaction-criticism inspired reconstructions. Furthermore, a particular emphasis on parables was encouraged, not only because the parables provide fertile ground for considerations of narrativity and metaphor, but also because a Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (DFG)-funded research project on the parables in Q has been underway at the Johannes Gutenberg-Universität Mainz since 2010. It is the work occurring within the framework of this project that provided the initial stimulus for an international Q conference in Mainz, and we would

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like to extend our gratitude to the DFG for their funding of this research on the parables in Q. We would also like to express our appreciation to the Johannes Gutenberg-Universität Mainz for the provision of university facilites for the conference and, in particular, for a grant funding part of the conference costs. Thanks are also due to Miriam Teutsch and Lydia Vöhl for their assistance in preparing this volume for publication. In addition, we are especially grateful to our colleagues, many of whom traveled great distances in order to come to Mainz, for their participation in the conference and for their contributions to this volume. Finally, we dedicate this volume to Prof. Dr. Dieter Zeller in anticipation of his 75th birthday. With this collection of essays we are pleased to continue the tradition of Mainzer scholarship on Q, a tradition that began with Prof. Zeller’s “Kommentar zur Logienquelle” (Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1st ed. 1984, 3rd ed. 1993). This dedication expresses our recognition of and deep respect for his work as well as our appreciation for his continuing interest in and contributions to not only the current Q research taking place in Mainz but also the field of NT studies more generally. Mainz and Halle, August 2013

Dieter T. Roth Ruben Zimmermann Michael Labahn

Table of Contents Preface ................................................................................................. V Introduction Ruben Zimmermann Metaphorology and Narratology in Q Exegesis: Literary Methodology as an Aid to Understanding the Q Text .................. 3 Metaphor in Q Daniel A. Smith The Construction of a Metaphor: Reading Domestic Space in Q ............. 33 Christopher Tuckett Q and Family Ties ............................................................................... 57 InHee Park Children and Slaves: The Metaphors of Q ............................................. 73 Sarah E. Rollens Conceptualizing Justice in Q: Narrative and Context ............................. 93 Markus Tiwald Die protreptische, konnotative und performative Valeur der Gerichts- und Abgrenzungsmetaphorik in der Logienquelle .............115 Narrative in Q Harry T. Fleddermann The Narrative of Jesus as the Narrative of God in Q .............................141

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Michael Labahn Was „Lücken“ berichten: Exemplarische Beobachtungen zu narrativen „gaps“ in Q .....................163 Detlev Dormeyer Q 7,1.3.6b-9.?10? Der Hauptmann von Kafarnaum: Narrative Strategie mit Chrie, Wundergeschichte und Gleichnis ............189 Robert A. Derrenbacker, Jr. “The Medium is the Message”: What Q’s Content Tells us about its Medium........................................207 Marco Frenschkowski Nicht wie die Schriftgelehrten: Nichtschriftgelehrte Rezeption alttestamentlich-jüdischer Traditionen in der Logienquelle und im Koran........................................................221 Parables in Q Paul Foster The Q Parables: Their Extent and Function ..........................................255 John S. Kloppenborg The Parable of the Burglar in Q: Insights from Papyrology ...................287 Erin K. Vearncombe Searching for a Lost Coin: Papyrological Backgrounds for Q 15,8-10 ............................................307 Christoph Heil Was erzählt die Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld? Sozio-historische und theologische Aspekte von Q 19,12-26 .................339 Dieter T. Roth “Master” as Character in the Q Parables ...............................................371 Contributors .......................................................................................397 Index of Ancient Sources ....................................................................399 Index of Modern Authors ....................................................................413 Index of Subjects ................................................................................421

Introduction

Metaphorology and Narratology in Q Exegesis: Literary Methodology as an Aid to Understanding the Q Text Ruben Zimmermann

1. Introduction: Metaphor and Narrative in Q – A Paradigm Shift? Although the vast majority of NT scholars accepts and works with the ‘Q Document’ as a discrete source within early Christian tradition, there are those who have questioned the Q reconstruction of the ‘Critical Edition of Q’ in particular, or even the Q hypothesis in general. In the Englishspeaking world, the best-known are perhaps Michael Goulder1 and Marc Goodacre.2 In Germany, Werner Kahl recently published an article in ZNW questioning Q and arguing for a so-called ‘neue Benutzungshypothese’,3 which takes up the Farrer-Goulder hypothesis that Luke used Mark and Matthew as sources. Kahl concludes his article with the contention and challenge: ‘Die schwere Beweislast liegt auf Seiten derer, die hypothetische Quellentexte zur Klärung des synoptischen Problems einführen.’4 In other words, he is attempting to force Q scholars to redouble their efforts in arguing for the plausibility of the Q document. Q scholars are, however, used to taking up such challenges. Many publications on Q are largely concerned with arguing for the existence of Q

1

M. GOULDER, The Derrenbacker-Kloppenborg Defense, JBL 121 (2002), pp. 331336, esp. p. 332; cf. also IDEM , Is Q a Juggernaut?, JBL 115 (1996), pp. 667-681 and IDEM , Self-Contradiction in the IQP, JBL 118 (1999), pp. 506-517. Cf. the discussion in R. A. DERRENBACKER JR./J. S. KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Self-Contradiction in the IQP? A Reply to Michael Goulder, JBL 120 (2001), pp. 57-76. 2 M. G OODACRE/N. P ERRIN (eds.), Questioning Q, London: SPCK 2004. 3 W. KAHL, Erhebliche matthäisch-lukanische Übereinstimmungen gegen das Markusevangelium in der Triple-Tradition: Ein Beitrag zur Klärung der synoptischen Abhängigkeitsverhältnisse, ZNW 103 (2012), pp. 20-46. 4 K AHL, Erhebliche matthäisch-lukanische Übereinstimmungen (see n. 3), p. 46.

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and presenting ‘the facts’ so that they might be convincing.5 This is, however, essentially a defensive, apologetic task, not unlike a military rearguard action. With the following volume we are, at least to a certain extent, extending an invitation to take the discussion in a different direction by reframing the questions and moving out of the defensive trenches. As such, we have invited contributors to focus not so much on the ‘facts’ of Q’s existence or wording, but rather to consider the ‘fiction of Q’. In other words, an invitation was extended to approach Q on a literary level, in particular considering metaphorical and narratival elements found in Q and the Q parables, the genre in which metaphor and narration is explicitly combined. Interestingly, the demonstration that such considerations of Q reveal a carefully composed and stylistically sophisticated text may also serve to strengthen the arguments for the existence of Q: the constructed ‘fictionality’ of Q supports the factuality of Q. But how exactly can one consider or work with a text, which does not exist, or to put in more precisely, which does not exist as a manuscript? There is, of course, a ‘text’ in the double tradition of Matthew and Luke, but how does one go about approaching or accessing this ‘text’? Before giving attention to metaphors in Q (the first main section of this contribution) or to analyzing narrative aspects of Q (the second main section of this contribution), a few methodological reflections are helpful.

2. Methodological Questions: Looking for and Analyzing the Q ‘Text’ This is not the place to consider or discuss various potential methodological and editorial problems of the ‘critical edition’ of Q.6 I have no doubts that the critical edition was and is an important step for Q scholarship as well as for NT scholarship in general. At the same time, however, significant problems remain in reconstructing the exact wording of Q. A so-called ‘thought experiment’, suggested by Eric Eve and others, of what a ‘Mark’ reconstructed from Matthew and Luke would look like has highlighted some of the significant problems attendant to the content 5

Cf. for example the good summery in C. M. TUCKETT, The Existence of Q, in: R. A. Piper (ed.), The Gospel Behind the Gospels: Current Studies on Q (NT.S 75), Leiden: E. J. Brill 1995, pp. 19-47. 6 C. H EIL, Die Q-Rekonstruktion des internationalen Q-Projekts: Einführung in Methodik und Resultate, NT 43 (2001), pp. 128-143; J. M. ROBINSON, A Critical Text of the Sayings Gospel Q, in: Idem (J. Verheyden/C. Heil [eds.]), The Sayings Gospel Q: Collected Essays (BEThL 189), Leuven: Leuven University Press 2005, pp. 309-317.

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of any reconstruction of Q.7 An additional challenge facing the reconstruction of Q at the word level is how one approaches variations in the wording of Matthew and Luke. Although the editors of the ‘Critical Edition’ recognize the possibility that neither Matthew nor Luke retained the Q wording,8 it appears that the reconstructed text of Q is, nevertheless, nearly 100% identical with either Matthew or Luke.9 Though the overviews and summaries of Q research found in the Documenta Q series is clearly a valuable service to scholarship, it also reflects how debates and discussions concerning the precise reconstruction of Q may well never end and may therefore be an unproductive line to continue to follow. Given this state of affairs, a question that presents itself is whether such a precise reconstruction of Q is even necessary? Is there a way to analyze a text without having the exact wording?10 There are many types of textual analyses which, given the hypothetical state of a reconstructed Q text, should not, and perhaps cannot, be applied to the text of Q (e.g. detailed 7 Cf. C. A. EVANS, Authenticating the Words of Jesus, in: Idem/B. Chilton (eds.), Authenticating the Words of Jesus (NTTS 28), Leiden, E. J. Brill 1999, pp. 3-14; C. S. RODD, The End of the Theology of Q?, ET 113 (2001), pp. 5-12; IDEM, The Theology of Q Yet Again: A Reply to the Responses of Christopher Tuckett and Paul Foster, ET 114 (2002), pp. 80-85; E. EVE, Challenging Q, ET 113 (2002), pp. 408-409; IDEM, Reconstructing Mark: A Thought Experiment, in: M. Goodacre/N. Perrin (eds.), Questioning Q (see n. 2), pp. 89-114. 8 Cf. J. S. KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q: The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press/Edinburgh: T & T Clark 2000, p. 101: ‘there are instances where both versions [i.e., Matthew and Luke] betray the editorial interests of the evangelists and hence, the original wording of Q may be irrecoverable.’ J. M. Robinson wrote: ‘If the Lucan reading is shown not to be that of Q, it does not necessarily follow that the Matthean reading is that of Q, since it is quite possible that neither reading is that of Q.’ (ROBINSON, A Critical Text [see n. 6], p. 313). For further discussion of this problem, cf. D. T. ROTH, Die Parabeln in der Logienquelle: ‘Alte’ Probleme und ‘Neue’ Ansätze, in: C. Heil/G. Harb/M. Hölscher (eds.), Built on Rock or Sand? Q Studies – Retrospects, Introspects and Prospects (BEThL), Leuven: Peeters (forthcoming). 9 This result remains the same regardless of whether the parallels between Matthew and Luke have a 20% (for Q 6,47-49), 35% (for Q 15,4-5a.7), 60% (for Q 7,31-35), 80% (for Q 10,2) or 98% (for Q 16,13) identical wording. Cf. ROTH, Die Parabeln in der Logienquelle (see n. 8). The percentages are based on R. MORGENTHALER, Statistische Synopse, Zürich: Gotthelf-Verlag 1971, pp. 258-261. 10 The question of analysis and reconstruction also lies behind the observation by A. LINDEMANN, Die Logienquelle Q: Fragen an eine gut begründete Hypothese, in: Idem (ed.), The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus (BEThL 158), Leuven: Leuven University Press/Peeters 2001, pp. 3-26, p. 26: ‘Theologische und literarische Tendenzen der Q-Texte lassen sich benennen und auch systematisch beschreiben. Aber es bleibt die Frage, ob eine umfassende literarische Analyse und theologische Auslegung der Logienquelle, (die der Analyse und Interpretation der synoptischen Evangelien vergleichbare wäre,) wirklich möglich ist.’

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syntactic analysis, certain linguistic analyses, or particular grammatical issues). There are, however, elements of the Q text which are not dependent on exact wording. Here, the analysis of metaphors and narrative criticism has proven itself useful in many fields. Such analyses can be applied not only to fixed texts, but also to the phenomena of memory and perception, to semi-literary texts or – as in our case – to intertexts. Even if the Q text cannot be reconstructed with absolute certainty from the readings in Matthew and Luke, it is possible to make plausible statements about its composition. This is to an even greater extent the case when considering textual characteristics that go beyond the word level, such as when studying the figurative world of or character constellations in the text, or, in other words, when considering metaphorical and narrative elements of Q. I would contend that it is not only possible to study the Q ‘text” through literary analysis, but also that literary analysis helps us even more in handling and interpreting the Q ‘text’ than pure source criticism.

3. Metaphors in Q Before being able to analyze metaphors in Q, one must address the foundational question: What is a metaphor? The number of definitions of a metaphor is almost as large as the number of disciplines striving for one: along with philosophy and linguistics, social-scientific and cognitive studies have addressed metaphors.11 Though it may be heuristically valuable to distinguish between different perspectives and approaches, at times such attempts result in the presentation of simplistic alternatives and/or distorted contrasts, ultimately leading to caricatures of the various positions. It would be rather audacious to think that the variety of issues related to the phenomenon of metaphors could be addressed and resolved within the confines of this brief discussion. At the same time, I would like to list three aspects that are viewed as constitutive in numerous theories and that may be able to further and advance the analysis of metaphors in Q.

Cf. for instance A. HAVERKAMP (ed.), Theorie der Metapher, 2nd ed., Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft 1996; IDEM (ed.), Die paradoxe Metapher, Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp 1998; IDEM, Metapher: Die Ästhetik der Rhetorik, München: Fink 2007; cf. the application for biblical exegesis R. ZIMMERMANN, Metapherntheorie und Biblische Bildersprache: Ein methodologischer Versuch, ThZ 56 (2000), pp. 108-133 and more recently IDEM , Metapher: neutestamentlich, in: O. Wischmeyer et al. (eds.), Lexikon der Bibelhermeneutik, 2nd ed., Berlin: De Gruyter 2012, pp. 377-378. 11

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3.1. The Two Semantic Domains of a Metaphor From Aristotle to George Lakoff and Mark Johnson a metaphor has been defined as ‘understanding and experiencing one kind of thing in terms of another’.12 The literal meaning of µετα-φέρειν is ‘to transfer’ or, even more concretely, ‘to transport’. Accordingly, one may define the metaphor as the transport of meaning from one domain of meaning to another. Along these lines it becomes clear that a metaphor consists of two components, which have been labelled in a variety of different ways in scholarship, e.g., tenor/vehicle (Ivor Richards), focus/frame (Max Black) or ‘bildspendender und bildempfangender Bereich (Harald Weinrich)’.13 Weinrich (and with him numerous others) has shown that a tension exists between the two involved semantic domains.14 According to the denotative spectrum of meaning of a semanteme or the spectrum that can be lexicalized, the two associated realms do not fit together. They are, however, associated in the text through a syntactic or structural connection (this distinguishes a metaphor from a symbol, where the association does not arise from the text, but rather from the discourse community). Weinrich therefore speaks of a counter-determination (‘Konterdetermination’) or a contradictory predication: ‘Die kühne Metapher ist … eine Prädikation, deren Widersprüchlichkeit nicht unbemerkt bleiben kann.’15 The terminology of the two aspects of metaphors already reveals that these two realms can be distinguished. It is not simply: focus 1 and focus 2, but focus and frame; instead of image 1 and image 2, a bildspendender (image providing) and bildempfangender (image receiving) realm. Even though a ‘substitution’ theory of metaphors has rightly been rejected since Max Black and Paul Ricoeur,16 there also is no reciprocal interaction between the two realms. Instead, the transfer of meaning in one direction is strengthened. With a view towards the Q metaphors and their exegesis we can establish:

12

G. LAKOFF/M. J OHNSON, Metaphors We Live By, Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press 1980, p. 5; cf. Aristotle, Poet. 1457b: µεταφορὰ δέ ἐστιν ὀνόµατος ἀλλοτρίου ἐπιφορά. 13 Cf. the references in ZIMMERMANN, Metapherntheorie (see n. 11), p. 113. 14 Cf. H. WEINRICH, Sprache in Texten, Stuttgart: Klett 1976, pp. 311, 320. 15 WEINRICH, Sprache in Texten (see n. 14), p. 309; cf. also D. DAVIDSON, Was Metaphern bedeuten, in: Haverkamp (ed.), Paradoxe Metapher (see n. 11), pp. 49-75. 16 Cf. M. Black, Die Metapher, in: Haverkamp (ed.), Theorie (see n. 11), pp. 55-79 who speaks about a ‘substitution view of metaphor’ (p. 61) versus an ‘interaction view of metaphor’ (p. 68); cf. also P. RICOEUR, Die lebendige Metapher, trans. R. Rochlitz, 3rd ed., München: Fink 2004 (orig. La métaphore vive [Ordre philosophique], Paris: Éditions du Seuil 1975).

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1.

A metaphor consists of two semantic fields which are consciously brought into contact with each other, even though they actually do not belong together. When analyzing the Q metaphors it is necessary to describe the two semantic fields. Although there is a reciprocal determination in the sense of ‘interaction theory’, the association is ‘directed’ and the transfer moves more from one side (bildspendender Bereich) to the other (bildempfangender Bereich). In general the ‘image giving field’ in Q is daily life, whereas the ‘image receiving field’ is the religious sphere. Because of the uncertain wording of Q, it is often necessary to restrain from offering a precise syntactical description of the association. At the same time, there are so many possible points of contact (genitive metaphors, sentence metaphors, context metaphors) that they remain predicable.

2.

3.

In essence, the analysis of Q metaphors means perceiving the figurative domains employed, on the one hand, and their associations, on the other. So, which metaphors in particularly can be recognized? If one begins at the outset of Q, a series of metaphors can be found in the preaching of John the Baptist. John begins his announcement of judgement with a metaphor: ‘snakes’ litter!’ (γεννήµατα ἐχιδνῶν, see Q/Luke/Matt 3,7). Saying this to an actual brood of vipers would not have been a metaphor at all; however, it is spoken to individuals coming to John the Baptist. In calling human beings ‘a brood of snakes’ the saying becomes a metaphor, transforming a certain meaning of ‘snakes’ (bildspendender Bereich) to ‘humans’, or, more specifically, of ‘offspring of snakes’ to ‘human behaviour’ (bildempfangender Bereich). There is some uncertainty with regard to the addressees (πολλοὺς τῶν Φαρισαίων καὶ Σαδδουκαίων; in Matt 3,7 and ὄχλοις in Luke 3,7) and concerning the assumed reference (people who have come to be baptized or just to observe John’s baptism);17 however, there is no doubt that the speech is addressed to humans (see also the ὑµῖν and the imperative ποιήσατε). In the next verse John shifts from animal to agricultural imagery with the issue of bringing forth fruit. It is not only the addressees, but also the combination of the word ‘fruit’ with the ethical or religious idea of repentance which makes the expression a metaphor: ποιήσατε οὖν καρποὺς 17

Cf. the discussion on the passage in C. M. TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity: Studies on Q, Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1996, pp. 109-116. ‘Matthew’s version is often dismissed as an historically impossible grouping and probably redaction’ (p. 110); however, in using such a harsh and unusual image it is ‘unlikely that in Q the people addressed are actually being baptized or even intending to be.… Matthew himself presumably took the words as implying that the Jewish groups mentioned came only to look at John, without being baptized themselves’ (p. 113).

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ἀξίους τῆς µετανοίας (Luke 3,8). Some may have noticed that I did not quote the wording of the ‘Critical edition of Q’ here, which takes the singular καρπὸν ἄξιον from Matt 3,8, instead of the plural from Luke. Once again, regardless of the exact wording, the metaphor remains quite the same in combining the semantic field of ‘fruit’ with the semantic field of ‘(human) repentance’. The text follows that line with the next verse, which takes up the fruit metaphor and expands upon it with the idea of a tree bearing fruits and with the adjective ‘good’ (καρπὸς καλός, Matt 3,10/Luke 3,9). The latter is well known as an evaluative attribute within ethical discourse.18 Regardless of the precise wording in Q, a reading highlighting the metaphor clearly brings the ethical aspect to the fore. The fruit-deeds metaphor is used once again in Q 6,43-45, which may serve as an example for a context metaphor. In Q 6,43-45 we are told about a tree and its fruits by means of an assumed contradiction: ‘There is no good tree bearing bad fruits, nor a bad tree bearing good fruits’ (Οὐ ἐστιν δένδρον καλὸν ποιοῦν καρπὸν σαπρόν, οὐδὲ πάλιν δένδρον σαπρὸν ποιοῦν καρπὸν καλόν, Luke 6,43). This time Matthew uses the plural (καρπούς, Matt 7,18) and Luke the singular (καρπόν). Matthew also employs ἀγαθός whereas Luke writes καλός, not to mention other uncertainties with regard to wording and syntax.19 None of these differences, however, have any significant influence on the meaning of the metaphor. If one does not connect the saying to John’s proclamation, at this point the statement reflects nothing more than a rural sapiental experience like a wisdom proverb. In the following verses, however, this semantic field of bearing fruit is linked to human beings. Once again, despite some uncertainty concerning the wording of this verse (regarding figs and thorns) the metaphor is still understandable in its basic structure: a good tree bears good fruit and, correspondingly, a good person (ὁ ἀγαθὸς ἄνθρωπος) produces good (προφέρει τὸ ἀγαθόν). To sum up: Metaphors are built through the combination of semantic fields. These different fields are bound together by means of structural or syntactical links. Even though the exact wording and syntax are different 18

Cf., e.g., R. ZIMMERMANN, ‘Das “Gute” als ethische Norm in Antike und Christentum. Gut, Güter, Güterabwägung,’ in: F. W. Horn/U. Volp/R. Zimmermann (eds.) unter Mitarbeit von E. Verwold, Ethische Normen des frühen Christentums: Gut – Leben – Leib – Tugend (WUNT [forthcoming]), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2013, pp. 5360. 19 Cf. the many brackets and footnotes in the reconstruction in J. M. ROBINSON/P. H OFFMANN/J. S. K LOPPENBORG (eds.), The Critical Edition of Q: A Synopsis, Including the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, Mark and Thomas: With English, German and French Translations of Q and Thomas (Hermeneia Supplements), Leuven: Peeters/Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2000, pp. 86-87.

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in Matthew and Luke, the combination and transfer of meaning can clearly be recognized. Thus, metaphors can be identified and analyzed without the reconstruction of a Q ‘text’ by considering just the intertextual level between Matthew and Luke. 3.2. The Social Background of a Metaphor (The Domain from Which the Image Is Drawn) As noted above, generally speaking, one of the two domains of the metaphor refers to the religious or ethical sphere (this is the ‘image receiving’ domain), the other is taken from different fields of daily experience, often from the realm of daily life (this is the ‘image providing’ domain). Within an initial, roughly systematic ordering, I would like to differentiate between five fields of metaphors in Q with regard to the ‘image providing’ domain (bildspendender Bereich): 1.

Metaphors of Animals and Plants Animals: Snakes (brood of vipers in Q 3,7; Q 11,12) Foxes and birds (Q 9,58) Sheep (sending in the midst of wolves in Q 10,3; lost sheep in Q 15,4-7) Sparrow (Q 12,6); Ravens (Q 12,24) Hen gathering her chicks (Q 13,34) Ox (Q 14,5) Vultures (Q 17,37) Fruits/plants: (Tree) bearing fruits (Q 3,7-9; Q 6,43-45) Figs and grapes (Q 6,44) Lilies and grass (Q 12,27f.) Seed (mustard seed Q 13,18f.; Q 17,6)

2.

Social Metaphors (of the Household): Human Relationships Disciple/Teacher (Q 6,40) Brother/Brother (Q 6,41) Playing children (Q 7,31-35) Child/Parent (Q 10,22; Q 11,9-13; cf. Q 14,26) Divided household (Q 11,14-20) Kingdom (Q 11,17; Q 11,52) Slave/Master (Q 12,42-46; Q 16,13; Q 19,15) Thief/Owner (Q 12,39f.)

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3.

Metaphors of Rural Life Threshing floor (Q 3,16f.); Woman at the mill (Q 17,35) Weather phenomenon (sun and rain in Q 6,35; predicting the weather in Q 12,54-56; the flash of lightning in Q 17,24) Speck and log (in the eye) (Q 6,41f.) Harvest workers (Q 10,2) Making bread (the leaven in Q 13,20f.) Useless Salt (Q 14,34f.) Men in the field (Q 17,34)

4.

Metaphors of Urban Life Constructing houses (Q 6,47-49; cf. the housetop in Q 12,3) Treasure in Heaven (Q 12,33f.) Juridical realm (going to court in Q 12,57-59; judging in Q 22,30) Open/closed door (with a doorkeeper) (Q 13,24-27) Invitation of the feast (Q 14,16-23) Woman at the mill (Q 17,35) Slave/Master motifs (Q 12,42-46; Q 16,13; 19,15)

5.

Visual Metaphors: Ability to See/Ethics The blind leading the blind (Q 6,39) The speck and the beam in the eye (Q 6,41f.) Light on the lampstand (Q 11,33) Light and darkness (Q 11,34; Q 12,2f.)

Metaphors reflect the discourse in which they are used in order to explain something new or less understandable. In other words, in order to explain the new message of Jesus and his disciples, well-known experiences and daily routines are taken and transferred to the religious domain. In analyzing these metaphor fields we can gain insights into the context in which the communication takes place and trace the contours of the sociological setting (milieu) of Q.20 When using a metaphor it does not make sense to draw images from a particular context which is unknown to the addressee. So we learn from the Q metaphors that, for instance, the nautical sphere and cultic motifs are missing, realms which play an important role in other early Christian texts (e.g., the fish motif in Luke). There are many metaphors built on rural life and the family life of a household. This is more or less the situation where Q tradents are normally

20 Similarly, J. L. REED, The Social and Invention: Literary, Rhetorical and Forge, Pa.: Trinity Press International images … should be seen as a reflection

Map of Q, in: J. S. Kloppenborg (ed.), Conflict Social Studies on the Sayings Gospel Q, Valley 1995, pp. 17-36, p. 20 points out that ‘spatial of the Q community’s social map’.

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located, i.e., in the rural environment of Galilee.21 However, when one takes a closer look at the metaphors some objections to our normal assessment may arise. On the one hand, perhaps the mention of the desert (ἔρηµος in Q 4,1; 7,24; 17,23) or the metaphorical saying concerning a vulture (Q 17,37), which obviously is a desert animal, can still be understood as part of the cultural memory of Galilean peasants (as a contrast foil to the fruitful hills). On the other hand, however, there are obviously metaphors which are constructed against the background of the urban life of an upper class. Within the structure of Galilean peasant-life the different master/slave scenarios do not have a realistic setting. In the parable of Q 12,42-46, for instance, a hierarchy of slaves is explored, which cannot be located in a village structure. Correspondingly the parable of the ‘entrusted money’ (Q 19,12-26*) takes up the complex structure of a wealthy urban merchant. In this article these different domains from which the metaphors are drawn cannot be pursued further. On a methodological level, however, these observations may be sufficient for the general statement that metaphors, especially the semantic domain providing the images (bildspendender Bereich) may reveal new aspects of the sociological setting of Q and the Q tradents. 3.3. Traditio and Innovatio (The So-Called ‘Bildfeldtradition’) The third aspect to consider is that metaphors are daring speech, they thrive on surprise and inventiveness and are themselves ‘living’, as formulated by Ricoeur.22 This reality, however, depicts only one side of the coin. It is not only recent work on metaphor theory that has shown that metaphors only ‘function’ within traditional systems of metaphors. Aristotle, in De memoria, had already named images as the singular medium to bring memories to mind.23 Weinrich especially is to be credited with having demonstrated how metaphors are embedded in Bildfeld traditions. Just as words are paradigmatically bound to a word field, a metaphor remains embedded in a 21 Cf. J. S. KLOPPENBORG, City and Wasteland: Narrative World and the Beginning of the Sayings Gospel (Q), in: D. E. Smith (ed.), How Gospels Begin (Semeia 52), Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press 1990, pp. 145-160, p. 155: ‘the perspective of villagers in agrarian societies’; cf. also J. L. REED, Galileans, ‘Israelite Village Communities,’ and the Sayings Gospel Q, in: E. M. Meyers (ed.), Galilee through the Centuries: Confluence of Cultures (Duke Judaic Studies Series 1), Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns 1999, pp. 87108. 22 Cf. RICOEUR, Lebendige Metapher (see n. 16). 23 Cf. Aristotle, Mem. rem. 451a where he stated that memory and remembering is ‘having a depiction (φάντασµα), taken as an image (εἰκονος) of that of which it is depicting’.

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Bildfeld and only becomes understandable within the context of the conventional joining of semantic fields. The audacious metaphor is always whittled down and eventually unconsciously lexicalized into the treasure trove of everyday speech metaphors. Every expression is located between the poles of a bold or a conventionalized metaphor. Markus Buntfuß has described this interplay as follows: ‘Metaphern erinnern, um Neues zu sagen und sie erneuern, um Altes zu bewahren.’24 With these perspectives in mind, the Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu reflects a methodological decision to focus not only on issues of narrative criticism and the analysis of the socio-historical background, but also on the traditional background (Bildfeldtradition) of the metaphors upon which the parables are constructed.25 In order to illustrate this approach for Q, I would like to consider the metaphor of the shepherd, a metaphor which is found, e.g., in the parable of the lost sheep (Q 15,4-7). The shepherd metaphor is common currency in the entire linguistic world of antiquity: Sumerian and Akkadian royal inscriptions already describe the king as a shepherd installed by the deity.26 Similar evidence can be listed for the SyrioPalestinian world27 or in Egypt.28 Greek texts are no exception in their use of shepherd metaphors: Homer, e.g., identifies Agamemnon as a ποιµὴν

24 M. BUNTFUß , Tradition und Innovation: Die Funktion der Metapher in der theologischen Theoriesprache (TBT 84), Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 1997, p. 227. 25 Cf. the third methodological step ‘Analyse des Bedeutungshintergrunds (Bildfeldtradition)’ and the introduction in R. ZIMMERMANN, Die Gleichnisse Jesu: Eine Leseanleitung zum Kompendium, in: Idem et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu, Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2007, pp. 3-46, esp. pp. 36-38; a similar argument can be found in D. ZELLER , ‘Die Bildlogik des Gleichnisses Mt 11,16f./Lk 7,31f.,’ in: Idem, Jesus – Logienquelle – Evangelien (SBAB 53), Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk 2012, pp. 145-150. 26 I. S EIBERT, Hirt – Herde – König: Zur Herausbildung des Königtums in Mesopotamien (SSA 53), Berlin: Akademie Verlag 1969. Cf. the collection of Babylonian and Assyrian references in A. SCHOTT, Die Vergleiche in den akkadischen Königsinschriften (MVÄG 30), Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs 1926, pp. 70-72. 27 Cf. especially the texts from Ugarit, e.g., KTU 1.108 (recto), Z.1-5 and KTU 1.21 (heavily damaged). On these, cf. R. HUNZIKER-RODEWALD, Hirt und Herde: Ein Beitrag zum alttestamentlichen Gottesverständnis (BWANT 155), Stuttgart: Kohlhammer 2001, p. 32. 28 As already found in the Old Kingdom, cf., e.g., K. SETHE, Die altägyptischen Pyramidentexte, 4 vols., Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs 1908–1922, Text 2:1533b: ‘Du hast sie in deine Arme gelegt, als Hirt deiner Kälber.’; cf. Text 2:771b: ‘deinem Hirten, der hinter deinen Kälbern ist’. In addition, as seen in HUNTZIKER-RODEWALD, Hirt und Herde (see n. 27), pp. 22f., Amenhotep III, Seti I, and Ramesses I. are each identified as a ‘good shepherd’ (mnjw nfr) who leads his soilders to victory. Cf. also D. MÜLLER, Der gute Hirte: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte ägyptischer Bildrede, ZÄS 86 (1961), pp. 126-144.

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λαῶν in the Iliad (Il. 2,243) and Plato refers to rulers as ‘shepherds of the polis’ (ποιµένες πόλεως, Resp. 4,440d).29 As highlighted in the religionsgeschichtlichen anchoring of the OT in its ancient context, the common near Eastern metaphorical use of the shepherd is also found in Hebrew thought and the Hebrew scriptures, even though the plethora of examples found throughout the OT also reveal significant differences.30 I have elsewhere considered the development of the shepherd metaphor traditions and will therefore offer only a few summary statements here.31 There are three OT Bildfelder for the shepherd metaphor in which, along the lines of the above-offered definition, the intertwining of two fields of meaning have resulted in one firm pattern of speech: 1. 2. 3.

The King-Shepherd image The YHWH-Shepherd image The Messiah-Shepherd image

Whereas ruling aspects dominate in the King-Shepherd image, in the YHWH-Shepherd image the care for the sheep is foregrounded (see, e.g., Ps 23). Alongside the motif of the gathering of the scattered, it is especially the closeness of the shepherd to his sheep that is emphasized. The ‘uniqueness’ of the Messiah-Shepherd can be named as one of his characteristics, along with his ‘unifying function’ in regards to the different animals in the herd and his ushering in a time of peace. The KingShepherd and the Messiah-Shepherd receive their commissioning as a shepherd from God. Even though they are able to be ‘good shepherds’ fulfilling their mission, the flock still remains the property of God. The people are consistently depicted as the sheep of God’s flock. In this way all three Bildfelder are encapsulated within a higher-level image: God is the

29

Cf. also Plato, Resp. 1.343b-345e; 3.416ab; 4.440d; Leg. 5.735b-e. A human is a σχῆµα τὸ τοῦ θείου νοµέως (Pol. 275c), because in primordial times humanity was shephered by God (Pol. 271e); cf. I. VON LOEWENCLAU, Der göttliche Hirte im Griechentum und im Alten Testament, ThV 1 (1966), pp. 30-45, esp. pp. 33-36, 37-42. 30 The metaphorical use of the shepherd or shepherd motif is found in each section of the OT. That is to say, it is found in the Torah (Num 27,17), in the historical books (2 Sam 24,17; 2 Chr 18,16), in the prophets (Mic 2,12; Isa 53,6), and in poetic or wisdom literature (Ps 23,1; Sir 18,13). Particular emphasis on this image can be seen in several prophets (Jeremiah, Micah, Zechariah) as well as in the Psalms (Pss 23; 80; 95,7). 31 Cf. R. ZIMMERMANN, Jesus im Bild Gottes: Anspielungen auf das Alte Testament im Johannesevangelium am Beispiel der Hirtenbildfelder in Joh 10, in: J. Frey/U. Schnelle (Hgg.), Kontexte des Johannesevangeliums: Das vierte Evangelium in religionsund traditionsgeschichtlicher Perspektive (WUNT 175), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2004, pp. 81-116.

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owner of the flock who either commissions a shepherd or acts as a shepherd himself.32 These traditions assist us in the interpretation of the Q parable found in Q 15,4-7. According to the definition used in the Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu,33 a parable is a metaphoric text. In the following, it is the figure of the Shepherd within the narrative who is of particular interest. The motifs of caring for the sheep, as well as collecting lost or dispersed sheep, clearly evoke the tradition of the YHWH-Shepherd Bildfeld. For this reason, the shepherd seeking the lost sheep in Q 15 can certainly be seen as part of the traditional YHWH-Shepherd Bildfeld. At the same time, however, the shepherd is identified as a ‘man’ (ἄνθρωπος, Q 15,4), and, according to Luke, ‘as one of you’ (ἐξ ὑµῶν), that is, as ‘one like you and me’. How then is this shepherd to be understood? Is it God as presented in the traditional Bildfeld and here depicted anthropomorphically34 like an ordinary shepherd? With a view towards another animal metaphor, ‘gathering’ also appears within the saying concerning Jerusalem. Like a hen gathers her brood, it is Jesus who wanted to gather the children of Jerusalem (Q 13,34). Jesus, who here is the subject of the gathering, may shed some light on the shepherd metaphor in Q 15. Is it therefore Jesus, as the Messiah-Shepherd, who seeks the lost sheep? Could we here be confronted with a narrative Christology where the ‘Son of Man’ is sketched according to the YHWHShepherd Bildfeld in order to present and interpret a ‘pastoral purpose of Q’s Son of Man Christology’? 35 Along these lines, Harry Fleddermann interprets the shepherd metaphor of Q 15 christologically by stating that it

32 One outcome of Hunziker-Rodewald’s work is the foundational distinction between YHWH as ‘Lord of his flock’ (i.e., the owner of the flock) and as “Shepherd of his flock’ (i.e., exercising the role of the shepherd). Cf. HUNZIKER-RODEWALD, Hirt und Herde (see n. 27), p. 15 et passim. 33 Cf. Zimmermann, Leseanleitung (see n. 25), p. 25. Cf. also R. ZIMMERMANN, How to Understand the Parables of Jesus: A Paradigm Shift in Parable Exegesis, Acta Theologica 29 (2009), pp. 157-182, p. 170: ‘A parable is a short narrative (1) fictional (2) text that is related in the narrated world to known reality (3) but, by way of implicit or explicit transfer signals, makes it understood that the meaning of the narration must be differentiated from the literal words of the text (4). In its appeal structure (5) it challenges the reader to carry out a metaphoric transfer of meaning that is steered by co-text and context information (6).’ 34 Cf. R. ZIMMERMANN, Anthropomorphism, III. NT, in: H.-J. Klauck et al. (eds.), Encyclopedia of the Bible and its Reception, 5 vols. published thus far, Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 2009–, pp. 1:163-165. 35 Cf. P. FOSTER, The Pastoral Purpose of Q’s Two-Stage Son of Man Christology, Bib. 89 (2008), pp. 81-91, who points out the ‘pastorally comforting message’ of Q’s Son of Man Christology, but does not deal with Q 15,4-7 in any detail.

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is ‘the Lord’s care for his disciples’.36 With reference to John the Baptist’s question in Q 7,22, Fleddermann compares the action of the shepherd with Jesus’ care for the lost and ill.37 To sum up: Metaphors remain ‘open’, at least to a certain extent, in their interpretation. They open up horizons of meaning and do not narrow or restrict them. They disclose theological insights, and, at the same time, tell us something about the world and the discourse in which they are used. By more closely considering the metaphors of Q we can learn not only about the metaphorical theology of Q, but also about the sociological setting as well as the known and presupposed traditions of Q. Within this volume various authors consider and explore Q metaphors in order to advance these ideas in their own ways. 38

4. Narrative in Q 4.1. Narrative Criticism in Q – Methodological Problems Within literary criticism and scholarship, narratological analysis has long been an established method for interpreting stories. Biblical scholarship now also contains numerous monographs, and even textbooks, on ‘narrative criticism’.39 Recently Sönke Finnern has offered an integrative summary of narratological analysis along with a methodological application for biblical exegesis.40 The question remains, however, whether narrative criticism can be applied to Q in the form to which it has been transmitted to us. 36 H. T. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (Biblical Tools and Studies 1), Leuven: Peters 2005, p. 775. 37 FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 36), pp. 776f. 38 Cf. domestic space and the household (D. A. SMITH); family ties (C. TUCKETT); slaves and children (I. P ARK); justice and juridical metaphors (S. E. ROLLENS and M. TIWALD); burglars (J. KLOPPENBORG); coins, women, and neighbors (E. K. V EARNCOMBE); Masters and slaves (C. H EIL and D. T. ROTH), etc. 39 To name just a few: R. ALTER, The Art of Biblical Narrative, New York, N.Y.: Basic Books 1981; M. A. POWELL, What is Narrative Criticism?, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress 1990; J. P. FOKKELMAN, Reading Biblical Narrative: An Introductory Guide, Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox 1999; D. MARGUERAT/Y. BOURQUIN, How to Read Bible Stories: An Introduction to Narrative Criticism, London: SCM Press 1999; D. F. TOLMIE, Narratology and Biblical Narratives: A Practical Guide, 2nd ed., Eugene, Oreg.: Wipf & Stock 2012; and L. J AMES, Narrative Criticism of the New Testament: An Introduction, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Academic 2005. 40 S. FINNERN, Narratologie und biblische Exegese: Eine Integrative Methode der Erzählanalyse und ihr Ertrag am Beispiel von Matthäus 28 (WUNT II, 285), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2010.

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It was John Kloppenborg in his essay ‘City and Wasteland’ who first distinguished between a ‘narrative world in Q’ and the ‘real world’ of the narrating Q community.41 Fleddermann, in his important commentary, strongly argued for Q as a narrative which contains all the elements of the gospel genre. He states: ‘Q contains all the elements of narrative-plot, character, setting, narrative voice, theme, and tone … Q is a narrative portrayal of the ministry of Jesus.’42 Michael Labahn, in his 2010 Habilitationsschrift entitled ‘Die Logienquelle als erzählte Geschichte’ confirmed this view and explicitly used narratological methods for analyzing the Q ‘text’.43 His book represents a milestone for the narrative dimension of Q. It is not my intention here to present the contents of these works, nor do I wish to recount the history of research of when and in which way narrative criticism of Q has already been undertaken. Rather, what I would like to do in the following is to raise a few fundamental questions regarding the narrative analysis of Q and offer two brief examples of how narrative criticism could work when applied to Q. First, a few methodological questions and preliminary issues. Here a fundamental question is: Does a narrative analysis necessarily require certain assumptions about the form and manner of transmission of Q? Three often-discussed issues are particularly relevant here. 4.1.1. Oral or Written Form? The majority of Q scholars considers Q to be a written source.44 In recent years, however, the number of voices seeing Q as a partially (cf. James D. G. Dunn, Terence Mournet)45 or entirely oral source (cf. Armin Baum, 41

Cf. K LOPPENBORG, City and Wasteland (see n. 21) with its special focus on Q 3,3 (the region of the Jordan). 42 Cf. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 36), pp. 107, 109 (cf. the discussion on the genre of Q, ibid., pp. 100-110). Cf. also his contribution in this volume. 43 Cf. M. LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender: Die Logienquelle als erzählte Geschichte (Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 32), Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt 2010. 44 Cf., e.g., TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity (see n. 17), p. 92: ‘It still seems most likely that the Q material was available to Matthew and Luke in a written, Greek form.’ 45 Cf. J. D. G. DUNN, Q as Oral Tradition, in: M. Bockmuehl/D. A. Hagner (eds.), The Written Gospel, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2005, pp. 45-69; cf. IDEM, Jesus Remembered (Christianity in the Making 1), Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 2003, pp. 231-254; T. C. MOURNET, Oral Tradition and Literary Dependency: Variability and Stability in the Synoptic Tradition and Q (WUNT II, 195), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2005.

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Richard A. Horsley/Jonathan A. Draper)46 has increased. Is an initial decision concerning the oral or written nature of Q necessary in order to conduct a narratological analysis? By no means. As Jörn Rüsen and numerous others have described,47 narrative is the fundamental form of processing history and of interpretive memory. Both the oral and written transmission of tradition utilize a narrative form in order to make the past communicable. 4.1.2. Genre: Semi-Gospel or Sayings Collection? Secondly, the question must be raised of whether or not a narratological approach requires a preliminary decision concerning the question of genre. Must one abandon the thesis of a ‘sayings collection’ or ‘sayings source’ since it is a ‘gospel’ that is characterized by narrativity? Certainly, the presentation of narrative connection on the macro-level provides a strong argument for Q as a ‘gospel’ as presented, for example, by Fleddermann. At the same time, we know, as demonstrated in the Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu, that even shorter sayings reveal a narrative structure. If one follows the views of Christoph Heil (‘Spruchevangelium’)48 or Kloppenborg (‘Sayings Gospel’)49 narrative aspects are, from the outset, also included. Even Marco Frenschkowski’s ‘Gattungsgeschichtliches PatchWork’50 leaves room for narrative forms. In other words, a narrative analysis is possible and useful, even apart from a definitive decision concerning the macro-genre of the text.

46 A. 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, p. 386; R. A. HORSLEY/J. A. DRAPER, Whoever Hears You Hears Me. Prophets, Performance, and Tradition in Q, Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press 1999, pp. 294-295; see further R. A. H ORSLEY (ed.), Oral Performance, Popular Tradition, and Hidden Transcript in Q (Semeia Studies 60), Atlanta, Ga.: Society of Biblical Literature 2006. 47 See chapter 2 ‘Historisches Erzählen’ in J. RÜSEN, Zerbrechende Zeit: Über den Sinn der Geschichte, Köln: Böhlau 2001, pp. 43-105; A. MUNSLOW, Narrative and History (Theory and History), Basingtoke: Palgrave Macmillan 2007; and R. ZIMMERMANN, Geschichtstheorie und Neues Testament: Gedächtnis, Diskurs, Kultur und Narration in der historiographischen Diskussion, Early Christianity 2 (2011), pp. 417444, esp. pp. 427-443: ‘Die narratologische Geschichtswissenschaft’. 48 C. H EIL, Einleitung, in: P. Hoffmann/C. Heil (eds.), Die Spruchquelle Q: Studienausgabe: Griechisch und Deutsch, 3rd ed., Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft/Leuven: Peeters 2009, pp. 11-28, esp. p. 20. 49 See KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 8), pp. 398-408, esp. p. 403. 50 See M. FRENSCHKOWSKI, Q-Studien: Historische, religionsgeschichtliche und theologische Untersuchungen zur Logienquelle, Habilitationsschrift (masch.), Johannes Gutenberg-Universität Mainz 2000, Kap. III, 3.

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4.1.3. Synchronic or Diachronic Approach? Finally, the question concerning synchronic or diachronic approaches must be considered. Does a narrative analysis apply only to the extant intertext (to the extent that it can be reconstructed from Matthew and Luke) or should diachronic perspectives and various redactional layers also be considered?51 Fleddermann opposes the view that Q gradually grew through successive additions and seeks to establish the literary unity of the text with seven arguments. According to Fleddermann, ‘Q represents rather an original work written by a single author following a unified artistic and theological conception.’52 Labahn also prefers the synchronic approach, referring to Richard Horsely, Jens Schröter and Alan Kirk.53 However, as I have already mentioned above, narratives are the most basic forms of memory. Thus, even if we consider Q to be tradition-literature – and not the artefact of one single author – the basic stories as well as the macrostory which is told can be analyzed through narrative criticism. Nevertheless, it would be wise not to focus on a ‘reconstruction behind the reconstruction,’ but rather to deal with the intertext of the double tradition as we have it. At this point, I would now like to consider some more general aspects of how one can approach the Q document through narrative criticism: 4.1.4. A Fundamental Differentiation: Story and Discourse Following the works of Seymour Chatman and Gérard Genette,54 narrative theory has distinguished between ‘story’ and ‘discourse’, where the ‘story’ relates to the plot (the ‘what’ of the account) and ‘discourse’ relates to the manner in which the story is told (the ‘how’ of the account). Thus, in a narrative analysis of Q one could focus more on the content of the story (i.e., the Jesus story and its plot line) or the manner in which the story is told. Though it is possible to highlight one or the other of these two distinct foci, it is also important to recognize that they are closely interrelated, as Labahn has shown in his consideration of ‘time’ in the relationship between narrative time and narrated time.55

51

See LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (see n. 43), pp. 104-119. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 36), pp. 124-128. 53 LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (see n. 43), pp. 116-119. 54 Cf. S. B. CHATMAN, Story and Discourse: Narrative Structure in Fiction and Film, Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press 1978 and G. GENETTE, Discours du récit, Paris: Édition du Seuil 2007. 55 LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (see n. 43), pp. 191-242. 52

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The distinction between the various aspects of the narrative account leads to a more nuanced differentiation between narrative levels; therefore, we can distinguish between the following levels in the Q narration: 1.

The level of the reader/recipient: The modern reader/exegete (re-) constructs a narrative in the act of narration/analysis of the Q ‘text’ The level of the narration: Who first told the Jesus story and for whom? (Q tradents; primary addressees) The event-level of the narrated world: Which story is recounted concerning Jesus, his disciples, and/or his enemies? The narrative-level of the narrated world: Do characters within the narrated world tell a story? (Jesus recounts, for example, the parables)

2. 3. 4.

Though distinguishing between and separating these levels in order to be able to make precise observation on different levels of the text is important, the relationship and connection between these levels is also of particular interest. Does, for instance, the manner of narration (discourse) of the narrated world (story) express something about the narrative world? To what extent is there referentiality between the narrated world and the events of the past (this question is, of course, particularly prominent in historical Jesus studies). 4.1.5. Narration on a Macro- and Micro-Level The question also presents itself: on which level is one working with narrative tools? Is the narrative analysis dealing with the macro-text (that is, Q as the entire source that can be reconstructed from the double tradition in Matthew and Luke) or with the micro-text? When considering an overarching theological presentation of Q it is, of course, the macrolevel which is of particular interest.56 At the same time, due to potentially missing sections like an introduction or conclusion (e.g., a Passion narrative) or on account of disputed sections (e.g., Lk/Q 15,8-10 the Parable of the Lost Coin), the macro-level approach is, to a greater extent, based upon other hypotheses concerning the extent of Q.

56

In earlier Q scholarship, H. E. TÖDT, Der Menschensohn in der synoptischen Überlieferung, Gütersloh: G. Mohn 1959; D. LÜHRMANN, Die Redaktion der Logienquelle (WMANT 33), Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag 1969; and S. SCHULZ, Q: Die Spruchquelle der Evangelisten, Zürich: Theologischer Verlag 1972 argued for an overall theological design, whereas Migaku Sato, e.g., was more inclined to see a loose collection of saying along the lines of a ‘Prophetenbuch(es)’. Cf. M. SATO, Q und Prophetie: Studien zur Gattungs- und Traditionsgeschichte der Quelle Q, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck (WUNT II, 29) 1988, p. 409.

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Far greater methodological security can without a doubt occur with the micro-narrative. Here, following Genette, one can distinguish between individual ‘factual’ narratives (e.g., the temptation account; the centurion in Capernaum) and ‘fictional’ miniature-narratives (e.g., the parables). Discrete pericopes or the miniature-narratives of the parables can be interpreted individually along narratival lines, even if the position taken towards the comprehensive context is, to a certain extent, left open. 4.1.6. Intentio auctoris – Intentio operis – Intentio lectoris In coming to one more area of narratological analysis, it is important to recognize the rather large extent to which redaction and source criticism are shaped by the ideal of an event- or fact-history, which can be reconstructed ex post. The validity and veracity of exegetical work following this maxim is assumed when it seems that historical circumstances, such as the narratival intention of the author (intentio auctoris), have plausibly been reconstructed. Redaction-critical analysis has placed particular emphasis in pursuing studies of the evangelists along these lines. Narrative studies in particular, however, have questioned this goal. Roland Barthes and other structuralists spoke of the ‘death of the author’ (le mort de l’auteur) in order to point out that the text itself should be approached and not something behind the text (like the inaccessible intention of the author). It is remarkable that many Q studies, rather differently than is the case in investigations of the Gospels, have not been particularly interested in the author(s) of Q. Some articles deal with the issue of the Q tradents;57 however, most publications directly address the Q ‘text’ itself. Thus, narratology can provide some arguments for an approach already present within Q scholarship. A narratological analysis of Q, which bases itself on the Q text itself rather than on the redactional intention of a historical author, is particularly appropriate given the form in which the Q text exists. Thus, one is justified in examining the extant intertext and the intentio operis with narratological methods. Furthermore, Umberto Eco and others have highlighted the constructive component of the reader within the process of reading. It is simply epistemologically honest to openly admit the active participation of the reader or recipient.58 Stated somewhat pointedly, even if the narratological analysis of Q by Labahn, for example, does not correspond to the intention of the Q ‘author’ or Q ‘tradents’, it is 57 Cf. M. TIWALD, Der Wanderradikalismus als Brücke zum historischen Jesus, in: Lindemann (ed.), The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus (see n. 10), pp. 523-534. 58 Cf. U. ECO, Lector in fabula: Die Mitarbeit der Interpretation in erzählenden Texten (dtv-Taschenbücher 30141), 3rd ed., München: Dt. Taschenbuchverlag 1998. Similarly U. H. J. KÖRTNER, Der inspirierte Leser: Zentrale Aspekte biblischer Hermeneutik (Sammlung Vandenhoeck), Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1994.

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still valid as a meaningful interpretive model as one example of the intentio lectoris. How then can we envision a narratological analysis? In an attempt to achieve as concrete a depiction as possible, I would like briefly to present two examples. 4.2. Narrated Space and the Semantics of Space in Q First, it is important to note that a narrative takes place in space and time; or, expressed slightly differently: a narrative is a specific manipulation of space and time. With regard to time, this idea was masterfully demonstrated by Paul Ricoeur in his trilogy Temps et récit. Within the study of narratives, however, the dimension of space has received less attention.59 Within every narrative, the actors are placed or located within a certain spatial structure of ‘here and there’, ‘above and below’, ‘inside and outside’, etc. The occurrence of an event requires the ‘topography of the presentation’ in order to provide orientation and so that the recipient can understand. In his analysis of the semantics of space in narratives, Jurij M. Lotman has shown how narratives often utilize topological (high/low, inside/outside, etc.) or topographical (mountain/valley, city/country) paired opposites, or non-topological semantic opposites (e.g., good/bad, known/ unknown). The spatial model of the world thus ‘[wird] zum organisierenden Element …, um das herum sich auch die nichträumlichen Charakteristika ordnen’.60 Within the context of historical narratives, spatial historical data such as the geographical location of the Jesus stories (e.g., Galilee/Jerusalem) can be connected to non-spatial realms of meaning (e.g., acceptance/rejection 59

Cf. the classic study G. B ACHELARD, Poetik des Raumes, München: C. Hanser 1960; G. HOFFMANN, Raum, Situation, erzählte Wirklichkeit: Poetologische und historische Studien zum englischen und amerikanischen Roman, Stuttgart: Metzler 1978 and more recently D. J ÄGER, Erzählte Räume: Studien zur Phänomenologie der epischen Geschehensumwelt (Kieler Beiträge zur Anglistik und Amerikanistik 14), Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann 1998. For an overview, cf. N. WÜRZBACH, Erzählter Raum: Fiktionaler Baustein, kultureller Sinnträger, Ausdruck der Geschlechterordnung, in: J. Helbig (ed.), Erzählen und Erzähltheorie im 20. Jahrhundert: FS Wilhelm Füger (AnglF 294), Heidelberg: C. Winter 2001, pp. 105-129. 60 J. M. LOTMAN, Die Struktur literarischer Texte (UTB 103), trans. R.-D. Keil, 4th ed., München: Wilhelm Fink Verlag 1993, p. 316. Lotman here follows the structuralist principles of Lévi-Strauss, for whom the structure, e.g., of a mythical account can be presented through the pairing of opposites. For an overview, cf. R. ZIMMERMANN, Struktur und Kontextualität des Androgynie-Mythos: Zur Mythenhermeneutik von Claude Lévi-Strauss, in: Idem (ed.), Bildersprache verstehen: Zur Hermeneutik der Metapher und anderer bildlicher Sprachformen (Übergänge 38), München: W. Fink 2000, pp. 259-292, esp. pp. 263-269.

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of Jesus) in order to interpret ‘Jesus’ way’ and make it comprehensible. Through the construction of narrative space meaning is created.61 Let us attempt to apply this to Q in a concrete manner.62 There are eleven instances where geographical locations are presented in Q, including cities (Jerusalem, Capernaum, Sodom, Chorazin, Bethsaida, Tyre, Sidon, and Nineveh) and larger areas of Jordan and Nazara.63 περίχωρο … τοῦ Ἰορδάνου Ἰερουσαλήµ Ναζαρά Καφαρναούµ Σοδόµοις Χοραζίν, Βηθσαϊδά Τύρῶ, Σιδῶνι Νινευῖται

Q 3,3a Q 4,9; 13,34 Q 4,16 Q 7,1; 10,15 Q 10,12 Q 10,13 Q 10,13f. Q 11,32

Are these locations reflective of a local deictic device? The possibility certainly presents itself that these localized description of places reveal the location in which Q was produced. Is, in this way, a certain map of Q recognizable? It is precisely this thesis that is presented by Jonathan Reed. For him, place names do not develop the narrative world of Q, but rather present a memory of the historical Q community.64 Based on this fundamental axiom, Reed develops additional positions: Capernaum is of central 61

Cf. E. S. MALBON, Narrative Space and Mythic Meaning in Mark (New Voices in Biblical Studies), San Francisco, Ca.: Harper & Row 1986 for an early work using this method in exegesis. More recently, E. C. STEWART, Gathered Around Jesus: An Alternative Spatial Practice in the Gospel of Mark (Matrix: The Bible in the Mediterranean Context 6), Eugene, Oreg.: Cascade Books 2009 has considered the topic. 62 For studies where spatial dimensions of Q have attracted scholarly attention, cf. K LOPPENBORG, City and Wasteland (see n. 21); P. RICHARDSON, First-Century Houses and Q’s Setting, in: D. G. Horrell/C. M. Tuckett (eds.), Christology, Controversy & Community: FS D. R. Catchpole (NT.S 99), Leiden: E. J. Brill 2000, pp. 63-83; H. MOXNES, Placing Jesus of Nazareth: Toward a Theory of Place in the Study of the Historical Jesus, in: S. G. Wilson/M. Desjardins (eds.), Text and Artifact in the Religions of Mediterranean Antiquity: FS P. Richardson (SCJud 9), Waterloo, Ontario: Wilfrid Laurier University Press 2000, pp. 158-175, S. G UIJARRO, Domestic Space, Family Relationships and the Social Location of the Q People, JSNT 27 (2004), pp. 69-81; cf. also the contribution by D. A. SMITH in this volume. 63 Cf. for the ‘Spatial references’ already the fundamental article KLOPPENBORG, City and Wasteland (see n. 21), further REED, The Social Map of Q (see n. 20). I am also grateful to one of my doctoral students, Arne Bork, for some insights. For the following cf. A. BORK, Reale Orte und Orte der Realität: Raumstruktur und Raumsemantik in Q, M.A. Thesis, University of Mainz 2011. 64 Vgl. REED, The Social Map of Q (see n. 20), pp. 18-20.

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significance for the Q community and is therefore to be identified as the centre of the community of tradents. The additional place names can then be located within three concentric circles around Capernaum: Chorazin and Bethsaida, then Tyre and Sidon along with Jerusalem, and finally, in the third circle, ‘the epic city of Sodom to the extreme south (Q 10,12) and the epic city of Nineveh to the extreme north (Q 11,32)’.65 Gerd Theißen66 and Frenschkowski have proceeded similarly, though with more nuance. They not only consider actual place names in their reflections, but also the ‘local colour’ (Lokalkolorit) of, for example, the description of persons (such as the centurion in Q 7,3 or the Pharisees in Q 11,39-52, among others). In this way, Frenschkowski concludes that Q reflects the legacy of the first Christian community in Jerusalem. The place of composition would therefore be Jerusalem itself or Pella, the city to which this community fled during the Jewish war.67 Though such studies certainly entail respectable historical work on Q, does it really do justice to the text? Do place names first and foremost have a localized deictic function? In order to answer such questions, it is necessary to consider some of these descriptions more closely.68 One of the first place names is Jerusalem (Q 4,9). Within the temptation narrative it is the devil who sets Jesus upon the highest point of the Jerusalem temple. This is surprising, since Jerusalem traditionally is the holy city chosen by God and not the realm of the influence and activity of the devil. In the two references to Jerusalem in Q 13,34 the city is not addressed according to its special status. In fact, we actually read words of judgement: she is accused of killing the prophets sent to her. Words of woe are also spoken over the Galilean cities Chorazin and Bethsaida. These two cities are set in opposition to the Phoenician cities Tyre and Sidon, which, according to Q 10,13-15, would have repented if the same miracles had been done there as in Chorazin and Bethsaida. The fate of Tyre and Sidon is assumed to be known by the reader. They did not repent, but were destroyed, as related in Isaiah 23 and Ezekiel 26–29. If these two cities are superior to Chorazin and Bethsaida, then the comparison displays the level of unbelief of the Galilean even more drastically. As is the case with Tyre and Sidon, the reference to the city of Sodom in Q 65

REED, The Social Map of Q (see n. 20), p. 21. Vgl. G. THEIßEN, Lokalkolorit und Zeitgeschichte in den Evangelien: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, 2nd ed., Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1992, pp. 244, 245. 67 Vgl. M. FRENSCHKOWSKI, Galiläa oder Jerusalem? Die topographischen und politischen Hintergründe der Logienquelle, in: Lindemann (Hg.), The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus (see n. 10), pp. 535-559. 68 Cf. on the following also BORK, Reale Orte und Orte der Realität (see n. 63), pp. 24-28. 66

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10,12 also echoes the OT. At the conclusion of the mission discourse, if the missionaries are unsuccessful and rejected by a city, that city will suffer a worse fate than Sodom. The complete destruction of Sodom, as recounted in Genesis 19, is presupposed. Furthermore, the formulation ‘on that day’ is a motif of the final judgement. The mention of Nineveh in Q 11,32 heads in a similar direction as that city’s inhabitants appear in the final judgement. Even this cursory glance at a few locales reveals that the topographical references are not recounted in order to function as a local deictic device, but rather serve to create narrative meaning in Q. The appeal to the OT already carries the narrative into a meta-narrative involving the people of Israel. It is also noteworthy that Gentile cites are mentioned, which are placed in opposition to particular Jewish cities or to ‘this generation’ (Q 11,32). Local references are often rhetorical means in the narratives concerning the final judgement. The specific place names are therefore part of a ‘semantics of space’ (Lotman) that function to create a higher level of meaning. In the light of the coming judgement, place names are utilized to paint the picture of a foreboding scene of threatening doom that at the same time, as demonstrated by the men of Nineveh, does allow for the hope of repentance and a change in conduct. Thus, the place names are tied into the meta-narrative in Q of the coming judgement. That which can only be outlined here as it relates to topographical references is also true for many other place names and spatial locations with which a semantics of space is created: specifically, there are locations in the desert, mountain, sea; places of vertical space (heaven/earth/Gehenna); domestic space, house and household, kingdoms; and further specific and concrete locations of rural vocations or of city life. 4.3. Character-Studies in Q-Parables As a second example, characters within the narrated world of Q can be considered.69 Once again, theories of character are present in numerous disciplines. Since the pioneering work of Edward Forster in 1927,70 character studies has become a field of research pursued by many scholars. There are works in literary criticism (e.g., like the actantial model of A. J. Greimas),71 in cognitive narratology (e.g., Fotis Jannidis),72 in psycho-

69 I am here taking up several ideas from my paper ‘Character Analysis in Q Parables’ presented at the 2011 Society of Biblical Literature meeting in San Francisco. 70 Cf. E. M. FORSTER, Aspects of the Novel, New York, N.Y.: Penguin 1976, pp. 7381. 71 Cf. A. J. GREIMAS, Sémantique structurale (Langue et langage), Paris: Larousse 1966; IDEM, Actant and Actor, in: Idem et al. (eds.), Semiotics and Language: An Ana-

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analysis (Thomas Docherty),73 or in theatre (Manfred Pfister)74 and film studies (Jens Eder).75 Within exegetical studies, character study is becoming ever more popular.76 To mention only one such study, consider the work of Cornelis Bennema, who formulated ‘a comprehensive theory of character (in the Fourth Gospel)’77 in Biblical Interpretation in 2009. Textbooks on ‘narrative criticism of the Bible’ are now also devoting chapters to ‘character/s’.78 Of course, it is not possible to present and discuss these individual works here. I would like instead to mention several aspects that repeatedly occur, even if presented within differing theories and with different terminology. 4.3.1. Different Aspects: Complexity – Development – Engagement Since Forster, character study has investigated the degree of complexity of individual characters. Taken this idea one step further, Bennema named three axes upon which a character may be situated: ‘complexity’, ‘development’, and ‘penetration in the inner life’. Concerning this final axis, Bennema writes: ‘Characters may vary from those who are seen only from the outside to those whose consciousness is presented from within.’79 lytical Dictionary (Advances in Semiotics), Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press 1982, pp. 5-8. 72 F. JANNIDIS, Figur und Person: Beitrag zu einer historischen Narratologie (Narratologia 3), Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 2004. 73 T. D OCHERTY, Reading (Absent) Character: Towards a Theory of Characterization in Fiction, Oxford: Clarendon/Oxford University Press 1983. 74 M. P FISTER, Das Drama: Theorie und Analyse (UTB 580), 11th ed., München: W. Fink 2001. 75 J. E DER, Die Figur im Film: Grundlagen der Figurenanalyse, Marburg: Schüren 2008. 76 Cf. the survey of the history of research in S. HUNT/D. F. TOLMIE/R. ZIMMERMANN, Character Studies in the Fourth Gospel: An Introduction to Character and Characterization in John and Related New Testament Literature, in: Eidem (eds.), Character Studies in the Fourth Gospel Narrative Approaches to Seventy Figures in John (WUNT), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck (forthcoming). 77 Cf. C. BENNEMA, A Theory of Character in the Fourth Gospel with Reference to Ancient and Modern Literature, Biblical Interpretation 17 (2009), pp. 375-421; cf. also his corresponding monograph IDEM, Encountering Jesus: Character Studies in the Gospel of John, Milton Keynes: Paternoster Press 2009. 78 Cf., e.g., chapter 5 ‘The Characters’ in MARGUERAT/BOURQUIN, Bible Stories (see n. 39) 1999, pp. 58-76; chapter 4 ‘Character’ in J. L. R ESSEGUIE, Narrative Criticism of the New Testament: An Introduction, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Academic 2005, pp. 121-165; chapter 4 ‘Character’ in TOLMIE, Narratology (see n. 39), pp. 39-62. 79 BENNEMA, A Theory of Character (see n. 77), p. 392.

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The insight into the inner life of a character brings a further dimension into play. When perceiving characters, there is always an interaction between the signals in the text and the readers’ imagination. The character in the text is never complete. Instead it grows within the inner eye of the reader, who brings his or her own experiences and expectations into the process. Thus, the character is constructed during the process of reception. Along these lines, Jannidis refers to a ‘mental model’ of character, a model which is produced by the reader.80 In this way, the empathetic character engagement of the reader, which is located between the poles of identification and alienation, is evoked. Emotional engagement, in addition to cognitive engagement, plays an important role. 4.3.2. Character Analysis in the Narrated World of Q-Parables In my SBL paper in San Francisco,81 I listed all of the characters found in the Q parables. With regard to the level of narration these characters are part of the world narrated by Jesus, i.e., the narrated world on a secondary level of narration (see above). Within this narrated word, there are a considerable number and variety of active characters. There are socially defined roles in the household such as ‘children’ (Q 7,31-35), ‘father82 and son’ (Q 11,9-13), ‘brother’ (Q 6,41f.) and a ‘housewife’ (Q 13,18f.). The parable of the light on the lampstand states that the lamp should provide light for ‘everyone in the house’ (Q 11,33). The ‘master of the house’ is at times specifically identified (Q 12,39; Q 13,25; Q 14,21, in each case οἰκοδεσπότης) or at times a parable refers, without specification, to a ‘master’ (Q 12,42; Q 16,13, κύριος). The parable of the harvest involves a ‘Lord of the harvest’ (κυρίος τοῦ θερισµοῦ, Q 10,2), and the parable of the pounds presents a ‘master of the slaves’ (κύριος τῶν δούλων, Q 19,15). In this final example, the household relationship is extended to a working relationship in the terminological pairing of ‘master/slave’. Indeed the frequent appearance of ‘slaves’ and ‘fellow slaves’ is surprising (Q 12,42-46; 16,13; Q 19,12-26*; Q 16,13 concerns the issue of serving two masters; Q 19,12-26*).83 Labourers in concrete fields of work are named, such as labourers in the fields or harvesters (Q 10,2; 17,34), a shepherd (Q 15,4-7) and mill workers (Q 17,34). There are also characters involved in house construc80

Cf. J ANNIDIS, Figur und Person (see n. 72), pp. 177-185. See n. 69. 82 Q 11,9-13 initially refers only to an ἄνθρωπος, who, however, in semantic interaction with the ‘son’ or with the ‘Father (in heaven)’ mentioned later, can be conceived of as ‘father’. 83 For a discussion of these parables see the contributions of C. HEIL and D. T. ROTH in this volume. 81

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tion (Q 6,47-49) or in courts of law, such as the opponent (αντίδικος) and the judge (κριτής, Q 12,58). The parables often simply speak of a ‘human being’ (ἄνθρωπος) (Q 6,45; Q 6,48f.; Q 11,11; Q 13,19.; Q 14,16; Q 15,4; Q 19,12.21). At times these individuals are described more precisely using specific attributes (Q 6,45: good person/bad person; Q 11,11: individual with an impure spirit). Some parables forgo the lexeme ἄνθρωπος and qualify the subject using only a characteristic (Q 6,39: a blind [person]) or using the character’s role (Q 6,40: pupil/teacher). 4.3.3. Character Portrayal – Complexity – Development – Inner Life: Selected Examples The above overview has revealed that the character portrayal varies greatly among the individual parables. Sometimes only one character is mentioned in a parable (e.g. Q 11,14-20, an individual with an impure spirit; Q 13,18f., the sower of the mustard seed; Q 15,4-7, the shepherd); sometimes two characters are brought into play in a specific relationship (Q 6,40f., teacher/disciple) or in contrast to one another (Q 6,43-45, good person/bad person; Q 6,46f., the wise and foolish builder; Q 12,39f., house owner/ thief). In some parables there are several characters that are numbered exactly (Q 19,12-26: first, second, third slave; Q 14,16-23: those invited first and those invited second) or, as in the parable of the feast, characters who can be placed using more complex methods into the actantial role of the adjuvant (e.g., the invited servant) or the opponent (e.g., field and business). In some parables the characters are portrayed as stereotypes. The narrator often uses the technique of ‘telling’ or direct presentation.84 By adding ‘good’ or ‘bad’ (as in Q 6,43-45), the narrator comments directly on a character. There are also parables that use the plot to qualify the characters indirectly. In this way, the two people who are building houses (Q 6,47-49) are described not with attributes but by the different ways in which they build their houses, which gains even more definite outlines against the background of the strict parallelism of the weather narration. Such cases of character presentation are examples of ‘showing’ or indirect presentation. As a reader one is forced to describe these characters as ‘flat’. However, not all characters are simple or flat. In Q 16,13, the protagonist is placed in a tragic conflict. He is confronted with a necessary choice between two masters. The reader is pressed into a decision regarding a demand for complete loyalty. This may, perhaps, be rather easy if 84

Cf. RESSEGUIE, Narrative Criticism (see n. 78), pp. 126-127.

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one option were ‘good’ and the other ‘evil’ or one were ‘favourable’ and the other ‘unfavourable’. Here, however, the point of this chiastic narrative form is to highlight the conflict involved: Q 16,13 ἢ γὰρ τὸν ἕνα µισήσει ἢ ἑνὸς ἀνθέξεται

καὶ τὸν ἕτερον ἀγαπήσει, καὶ τοῦ ἑτέρου καταφρονήσει.

for he will either hate the one or be devoted to the one

and love the other, and despise the other.

The parallel location of ὁ εἵς and ὁ ἕτερος in the two partial verses are connected to opposing verbs. The ‘one’ is hated once and served once; the ‘other’ is loved once and despised the next time. In other words, the ‘one’ is not connected to the idea of ‘hating’ and ‘despising’ while the ‘other’ is connected to ‘loving’ and ‘honouring’. In this way neither the ‘one’ nor the ‘other’ is depicted purely negatively or positively. The story thus creates a tragic conflict into which the hearers of the parable are drawn. Following Eder, one can recognize here the ‘emotionalization function’ of character information.85 The relationship verbs used (i.e., ‘hate’ and ‘love’ and ‘devoted to’ and ‘despise’) clearly aim to evoke the emotional involvement of the recipients. The concluding negative statement in the second person (you cannot …, οὐ δύνασθε) brings the appeal function of the parable to a head. The character is a negative example that is meant to lead to the recipients’ imaginary alienation. You cannot be so undecided! You cannot serve God and Mammon at the same time! One final example of a characters’ ambivalence mentioned here can be found in Q 6,41f. This passage contains the well-known parable of the speck and the beam in the eye. The main character – again addressed directly in the second person singular ‘you’ – has definite, positive traits. He recognizes a problem, an emergency as it were, and would like to rectify it. The character willingly offers to help his brother: ‘Let me take out the speck in your eye.’ There is no doubt that this character wishes to be helpful and is ready to act. He takes care of others and is not merely egotistical and self-centred – by all means positive ethical characteristics. Nevertheless, the parable hardly engenders a positive evaluation. Even the first rhetorical question pits the speck in the brother’s eye against the beam in his own eye. The recipient, however, is denied the possibility of remaining aloof or emotionally detached because he or she is addressed directly with ‘you’. Thus, the ambivalence of the character is unavoidably transferred to the recipient. Character analysis helps to describe precisely how the appeal structure of the Q text functions. 85

Cf. EDER, Figur im Film (see n. 75), pp. 647-706.

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5. Conclusion With these initial considerations of a metaphorical and narratival analysis of Q, I have merely wanted to offer several possible avenues of analysis that can be pursued. Literary analyses may well reveal details of the Q source that have, up to this point, hardly been recognized. In many, perhaps unexpected, ways these literary considerations can be tied back into the classical questions of Q scholarship. The Q account is not an autonomous, isolated work, but rather a historical narrative located within tradition- and communication-relationships. These, however, should no longer be considered somewhere beyond or behind the medium itself, but rather recognised precisely in and through the linguistic form, just as has been emphasised in historical narratology.86 In this way, the present volume may reveal not only new methods of textual recognition and analysis, but also take a decisive step beyond the predominant hermeneutic of Q scholarship. Q – a ‘text’ preserved for us only through Matthew and Luke – is not an elaborated novelistic narration, but also not a simple collection about factual occurrences and tradents. Nevertheless, the received intertext of Q remains a text in the sense of a textus (structure) as such. Its structure is not made of stone, however, but is knit together with metaphors and narrative elements of stories, which can most obviously be seen within the Qparables. The various and different attempts of the following contributions to become more keenly aware of some of these individual threads enables us to become more aware of the entire literary fabric of Q.

86 Cf. A. MUNSLOW, Narrative and History (s. n. 47); S. JAEGER, Erzählen im historiographischen Diskurs, in: C. Klein/M. Martinez (eds.), Wirklichkeitserzählungen. Felder, Formen und Funktionen nicht-literarischen Erzählens, Stuttgart: Metzler 2009, pp. 110–135; and ZIMMERMANN, Geschichtstheorie (see n. 47), pp. 427-443.

Metaphor in Q

The Construction of a Metaphor: Reading Domestic Space in Q Daniel A. Smith À la porte de la maison qui viendra frapper? Une porte ouverte on entre Une porte fermée un antre Le monde bat de l’autre côté de ma porte. Pierre Albert-Birot, “Intérieur”1 The problem is that any search for space in literary texts will find it everywhere and in every guise: enclosed, described, projected, dreamt of, speculated about. Henri Lefebvre, The Production of Space2

The Sayings Gospel Q provides an especially rich site for investigating how early Christian texts negotiated group identity through the construction of space. Texts such as Q construct space narratively and imaginatively, often in dialogue or in debate with the culturally-accepted (or culturally-enforced) norms according to which space was conceived socially, built physically, and lived and worked in from day to day. Of course, Q constructs space in many ways, as a few well-known studies have shown.3 Newer methodologies which make use of advances in human geography and theories of critical spatiality are now being applied to biblical writings, and such methodologies can helpfully augment older studies of Q’s geography, or its “constructions of space.” 1

P. ALBERT-BIROT, Poésie 1945–1967: Les amusements naturels: Deux cent dix gouttes de poésie, Mortemart: Rougerie 1983, p. 117, cited by G. BACHELARD, The Poetics of Space, trans. M. Jolas, 2nd ed., Boston: Beacon Press 1994, p. 3. 2 H. LEFEBVRE, The Production of Space, trans. D. Nicholson-Smith, Oxford: Blackwell 1991, p. 15. 3 Cf. J. S. KLOPPENBORG, City and Wasteland: Narrative World and the Beginning of the Sayings Gospel (Q), in: D. E. Smith (ed.), How Gospels Begin (Semeia 52), Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press 1990, pp. 145-160; J. L. REED, The Social Map of Q, in: J. S. Kloppenborg (ed.), Conflict and Invention: Literary, Rhetorical and Social Studies on the Sayings Gospel Q, Valley Forge, Pa.: Trinity Press International 1995, pp. 17-36.

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Social theorists and geographers no longer think of space in a historicizing and positivistic way, that is, as simply the “real site” in which historical events occur; now they tend to view space multidimensionally as a social construct. In recent decades such advances in critical spatial theory have gradually been making an impact on biblical studies. Elizabeth Struthers Malbon’s structuralist study of narrative space in Mark (1986) is probably the earliest work in our field to take a serious interest in space per se, from a narratological perspective.4 More recently, the American Academy of Religion and the Society of Biblical Literature conjointly sponsored the “Constructions of Ancient Space Seminar” (from 2000 to 2005), which produced two volumes of essays on “constructions of space” in biblical literature.5 Recent dissertations by Eric C. Stewart6 and Matthew Sleeman7 also apply insights from theories of critical spatiality to Mark and to Acts (respectively), and provide useful introductions to contemporary spatial theory. Admittedly, these studies tend to apply theories of “critical spatiality” to biblical narrative, rather than to sayings such as those found in Q. However, owing to the parabolic and narrativistic character of many of Q’s sayings, there is good reason for applying such insights to the construction of space in Q. The rhetorical use of domestic space imagery in Q is an appropriate place to begin, because of the prominence of house and household imagery in the document. This paper will first survey developments in the study of domestic space in antiquity to show how “real” lived space 4

Cf. E. S. MALBON, Narrative Space and Mythic Meaning in Mark (New Voices in Biblical Studies), San Francisco, Ca.: Harper & Row 1986, but cf. also E. LOHMEYER, Galiläa und Jerusalem (FRLANT 52), Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1936; R. H. LIGHTFOOT, Locality and Doctrine in the Gospels, New York, N.Y.: Harper 1938; W. MARXSEN, Der Evangelist Markus: Studien zur Redaktionsgeschichte des Evangeliums (FRLANT 67), 2nd ed., Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1959; IDEM, Mark the Evangelist: Studies on the Redaction History of the Gospel, Nashville, Tenn.: Abingdon Press 1969, pp. 54-116. 5 Cf. J. L. BERQUIST/C. V. CAMP (eds.), Constructions of Space I: Theory, Geography, and Narrative (Library of Hebrew Bible: Old Testament Studies 481), London: T & T Clark 2007; EIDEM (eds.), Constructions of Space II: The Biblical City and Other Imagined Spaces (Library of Hebrew Bible: Old Testament Studies 490), London: T & T Clark 2008. 6 Cf. E. C. STEWART, Gathered Around Jesus: An Alternative Spatial Practice in the Gospel of Mark (Matrix: The Bible in the Mediterranean Context 6), Eugene, Oreg.: Cascade Books 2009. 7 Cf. M. SLEEMAN, Geography and the Ascension Narrative in Acts (MSSNTS 146), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2009; cf. also IDEM, Mark, the Temple, and Space: A Geographer’s Response, Biblical Interpretation 15 (2007), pp. 338-349. For Sleeman’s theoretical approach, cf. E. W. SOJA, Thirdspace: Journeys to Los Angeles and Other Real-and-Imagined Places, Oxford: Blackwell 1996.

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inculcates social norms about familial and gender identity, but also how textual uses of that imagery could do the same. Second, as already noted, critical spatial theory accounts for space as a social construct in particular societies. These insights may be applied not only to the “real” social context of the Q community, but also to the way that a text like Q “constructs” space imaginatively as a way of negotiating group identity and allegiances. Insights and principles from these two approaches will then be applied to representative Q sayings.

1. Recent Studies of Domestic Space in Q In the last decade or so, three important studies of domestic space or houses in Q have appeared, by Peter Richardson (2000), Halvor Moxnes (2000, 2003), and Santiago Guijarro (2004).8 While Richardson and Guijarro combine archaeological and textual data to draw inferences about the socio-historical setting of Q, Moxnes sees the social effects of dislocation from normal kinship groups as fundamental for an understanding of Jesus and movements that came after him. Their results may be summarized briefly. Richardson examines Q’s setting on the basis of the architectural imagery found in Q. He begins with surveys of three archaeological digs (Yodefat, Gamla, and Cana) relevant to Q’s probable setting in firstcentury Galilee.9 He states that “Q’s core imagery is house and householder as models for community behaviour.”10 The imagery also seems to presuppose a town or village setting in which small landowners with servants would be familiar.11 Frequent agricultural imagery, language about towns and cities, and an interest in purity issues are all consistent with the

8

Cf. P. RICHARDSON, First-Century Houses and Q’s Setting, in: D. G. Horrell/C. M. Tuckett (eds.), Christology, Controversy & Community: FS D. R. Catchpole (NT.S 99), Leiden: E. J. Brill 2000, pp. 63-83; H. MOXNES, Placing Jesus of Nazareth: Toward a Theory of Place in the Study of the Historical Jesus, in: S. G. Wilson/M. Desjardins (eds.), Text and Artifact in the Religions of Mediterranean Antiquity: FS P. Richardson (SCJud 9), Waterloo, Ontario: Wilfrid Laurier University Press 2000, pp. 158-175; IDEM, Putting Jesus in His Place: A Radical Vision of Household and Kingdom, Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press 2003; S. GUIJARRO, Domestic Space, Family Relationships and the Social Location of the Q People, JSNT 27 (2004), pp. 69-81. 9 Cf. RICHARDSON, First-Century Houses and Q’s Setting (see n. 8), pp. 67-74; cf. also IDEM, Towards a Typology of Levantine/Palestinian Houses, JSNT 27 (2004), pp. 47-68. 10 RICHARDSON, First-Century Houses and Q’s Setting (see n. 8), p. 78. 11 Cf. RICHARDSON, First-Century Houses and Q’s Setting (see n. 8), pp. 78-79.

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material record from the first-century digs Richardson documents.12 Those responsible for Q were settled, Torah-observant, and relatively familiar with large households and farms.13 Santiago Guijarro explains the references to houses and families in Q using his typology of families in first-century Galilee. 14 Like Richardson, Guijarro uses archaeological data to help interpret the context of Q, and he follows Richardson in concluding that “the house and the family played an important role and provided the most important images for the rhetoric of this document.”15 He finds that, rhetorically, Q references to both large houses and families (e.g., Q 7,25) and itinerant homelessness (Q 9,58; Q 10,5-9) display a certain “remoteness” from those sociohistorical contexts, so these sayings do not reflect the actual Sitz im Leben of the Q people.16 Large houses seem to be viewed from the outside, showing little direct knowledge of either the architectural features or the kind of kinship and social relations within; this is not a first-hand perspective.17 Guijarro finds that most of the Q sayings using domestic space imagery or familial language fit best in a kinship context of what he calls “joint or nucleated families.”18 Halvor Moxnes takes a different approach. He uses critical spatial theory and queer theory to account for Jesus’ own dislocation from household/kinship relations, and for the kind of dislocation and relocation which Jesus advocated for his followers as adherents of the kingdom of God. According to Moxnes, material from Q, Thomas, and Mark displays three different perspectives on house and household: (1) some sayings have in view an absolute negation of place, with Jesus as the primary referent; (2) others suggest leaving household and not knowing where to go; (3) others 12

Cf. RICHARDSON, First-Century Houses and Q’s Setting (see n. 8), pp. 79-82. Cf. RICHARDSON, First-Century Houses and Q’s Setting (see n. 8), p. 83. 14 For the typology, see S. GUIJARRO, The Family in First-Century Galilee, in: H. Moxnes (ed.), Constructing Early Christian Families: Family as Social Reality and Metaphor, London: Routledge 1997, pp. 42-65, esp. pp. 57-61. 15 GUIJARRO, Domestic Space (see n. 8), p. 74. 16 GUIJARRO, Domestic Space (see n. 8), p. 74; cf. also IDEM, Fidelidades en conflicto: La ruptura con la familia por causa del discipulado y de la misión en la traditión sinóptica (Plentitudo Temporis 5), Salamanca: Publicationes Universidad Pontificia 1998, pp. 346-357. 17 Cf. GUIJARRO, Domestic Space (see n. 8), pp. 73-74. 18 GUIJARRO, Domestic Space (see n. 8), p. 71; cf. also IDEM, The Family in FirstCentury Galilee (see n. 14), pp. 57-61. Joint families were kinship groups of two or more conjugal families living together in a multi-room dwelling, normally with a courtyard. Nucleated families were a single family unit, dislocated somewhat from broader kinship connections, and living typically in a one-room house (Q 6,47-49 and 11,33). Guijarro estimates that about seventy percent of first-century Galileans lived in this kind of kinship group: IDEM, Domestic Space (see n. 8), p. 75. 13

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construct an alternative space to establish group identity.19 Important sayings from Q include Q 9,58; 9,59-60; and 14,26-27.20 Whereas Mark speaks of new households for members of the movement (Mark 10,30; cf. Mark 3,31-35), “in Q it was the kingdom sayings of Jesus that served to establish a new location for his followers. This was not a location in the same sense as the original household, however, but in the form of ‘imagined places’.”21 The theoretical basis of Moxnes’s approach to “space” in this book is clearer in an earlier essay.22 There, Moxnes contrasted Herod the Great, who produced physical spaces that defined and exerted social control, with Jesus, who produced in his parables representational spaces “that [related] to and [challenged] the spatial structure of these other places [namely, house, village, and city] by establishing alternative structures.”23 Jesus’ disruption of the temple was a concrete challenge to the elite construction of space, which dominated and controlled society while at the same time presenting that domination as a given, through the built material space of the Temple, and through other socially-constructed spaces.24 Moxnes situates these productions of space using the “grid of spatial practices” of David Harvey,25 who was influenced by the seminal work of Henri Lefebvre, The Production of Space.26 These theorists understand space as socially constructed in three dimensions: first, in its material or physical aspects, which Lefebvre called “spatial practices”; second, in its conceptualization, which Lefebvre called “representations of space”; and third, in its imaginative or symbolic aspects, “linked to the clandestine or underground side of social life,” which Lefebvre called “spaces of representation.”27 Moxnes sees the kingdom-as-household sayings of Q as constructing an alternative social space imaginatively, as a surrogate for the households from which Jesus’ followers had actually been displaced.

19

Cf. MOXNES, Putting Jesus in His Place (see n. 8), p. 48. Cf. MOXNES, Putting Jesus in His Place (see n. 8), pp. 46-71. 21 MOXNES, Putting Jesus in His Place (see n. 8), p. 114. 22 Cf. MOXNES, Placing Jesus of Nazareth (see n. 8); Cf. IDEM, Putting Jesus in His Place (see n. 8), pp. 142-157. 23 MOXNES, Placing Jesus of Nazareth (see n. 8), p. 171. 24 Cf. MOXNES, Putting Jesus in His Place (see n. 8), pp. 161-163, 171-172. 25 D. HARVEY, The Condition of Postmodernity: An Enquiry into the Origins of Cultural Change, Oxford: Blackwell 1990, pp. 220-221. 26 Cf. H. LEFEBVRE, La Production de l’espace, Paris: Édition Anthropos 1974; IDEM, The Production of Space (see n. 2). 27 LEFEBVRE, The Production of Space (see n. 2), p. 33; H ARVEY, The Condition of Postmodernity (see n. 25), pp. 218-219; Cf. A. ZIELENIEC, Space and Social Theory (BSA New Horizons in Sociology), London: Sage 2007, pp. 72-75. 20

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With his [Q] sayings about the kingdom as ‘imagined places’ Jesus entered a contested area of paternal authority over household and village life, and placed his followers in imagined households with God as their father. Jesus’ sayings about the kingdom as household established a new home for his followers, who had left or experienced conflicts with their own household of origin. In that way his sayings entered directly into the space of daily life in Galilee, into the experience of being displaced from the most fun28 damental location of identity.

This kind of imaginative construction of space makes sense as an example of Lefebvre’s third category, “spaces of representation.” Thus, “household” in Q is an imagined or symbolically constructed space, which nonetheless had real social implications.

2. Developments in the Study of Domestic Space in Antiquity Before considering theoretical approaches to space and applying them to Q, it will be useful to see what insights into the metaphorical use of domestic space imagery in Q may arise from archaeological and textual studies on domestic space in antiquity and from cross-cultural studies of domestic space by social scientists. Both types of studies reveal that the ways in which domestic space is defined, built, and lived – no matter the time or place, or the simplicity or complexity of that space – is never merely functional, but always carries symbolic value. The house symbolizes and constructs, but also constrains, the identity of its inhabitants, both for themselves and for others. As Shelley Hales puts it, with reference to the Roman house, “If in modern anthropological terms the house is understood as an exoskeleton through which the inhabitants encounter society, then this is even more so the case of the Roman domus, which was a visual, architectural construct of the familia’s identity and proof of participation in Roman society.”29 This would come to expression not only in the house’s conformity to a certain architectural style, seen “in individual domestic units as well as on a public level,” but also in the way the house “[delineated] the space within which the chief domestic rituals of Roman life could be enacted.”30 Pierre Bourdieu’s examination of the Berber house (1970) is the classic contemporary study which illustrates this relationship between domestic space and cultural and social identities.31 Noting the various spatial opposi28

MOXNES, Putting Jesus in His Place (see n. 8), p. 140. S. HALES, The Roman House and Social Identity, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2003, p. 2. 30 HALES, The Roman House and Social Identity (see n. 29), p. 18. 31 Cf. P. BOURDIEU, La maison Kabyle ou le monde renversé, in: J. Pouillon/P. Maranda (eds.), Échanges et communications: FS C. Lévi-Strauss (Studies in General 29

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tions in the typical Berber house, Bourdieu explains how gender hierarchies, roles, and activities are inscribed symbolically in both the form and function of different parts of the house, even in the orientation of the house in relation to external space. Needless to say, these are issues of concern to the society as a whole, but which are constructed and constrained in the arrangement and use of domestic space. Social scientists who, like Bourdieu, analyze present-day uses and meanings of domestic space are afforded a luxury which those interested in domestic space in antiquity do not have: they are able to observe domestic space as it is lived out in the patterns and interactions of daily life and ritual activity, and even interrogate participants about their behaviour.32 In contrast, as Lisa Nevett explains, many of the clues we use in our everyday lives are lacking in archaeological contexts since only a limited range of the furnishings, and sometimes only relatively little of the architecture, normally survive. An even more challenging barrier to interpretation is the 33 gulf which exists between our own world and that of the ancient Greeks and Romans.

Thus, while it is probably a good instinct to claim the importance of “the role played by houses in articulating the identities of both the household as a group, and various of its members individually,”34 normally the precision with which Bourdieu could speak is impossible for the student of ancient domestic space. Not only the activities of the inhabitants, but also the arrangement of interior artefacts, and the everyday uses which certain interior spaces had, are often impossible to determine. In addition, it is never clear to what extent studies of domestic space by contemporary anthropologists and soAnthropology 5), 2 vols., The Hague: Mouton 1970, pp. 2:739-758; IDEM, The Berber House, in: S. M. Low/D. Lawrence-Zúñiga (eds.), The Anthropology of Space and Place: Locating Culture (Blackwell Readers in Anthropology 4), London: Blackwell 2003, pp. 131-141. For similar observations about a different culture, cf. C. E. CUNNINGHAM, Order in the Atoni House, in: R. Needham (ed.), Right and Left: Essays on Dual Symbolic Classification, Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press 1973, pp. 204-238, esp. p. 219, cited by Y.-F. TUAN, Space and Place: The Perspective of Experience, Minneapolis, Minn.: University of Minnesota Press 1977, pp. 112-113. 32 Bourdieu, for instance, could observe that when a guest was badly received it was typically said, “He made me sit before his wall of darkness as in a grave,” which explained the social and symbolic function of the low interior partial wall that divided the upper (and more well-lit) part of the house from the lower: BOURDIEU, The Berber House (see n. 31), p. 132. He also knew that in the lower part of the house, animals were kept, sex and childbirth occurred, and the dead were washed. Thus, he wrote, “the opposition between the upper part and the lower part reproduces within the space of the house the opposition set up between the inside and the outside” ibid., p. 133. 33 L. C. NEVETT, Domestic Space in Classical Antiquity (Key Themes in Ancient History), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2010, p. 21. 34 NEVETT, Domestic Space in Classical Antiquity (see n. 33), p. 7.

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ciologists are applicable to the ancient world.35 Current experts in ancient domestic space are also wary about how textual evidence can be applied to actual archaeological finds.36 Such scholars are re-evaluating “the way in which different types of evidence are used, giving greater weight and independence to the material sources in comparison with texts.”37 In general, there is a trend towards analyzing textual evidence in strictly literary terms, rather than using it as a way of judging and classifying the material evidence. However, cross-disciplinary work, drawing on “architecture, sociology, ethnoarchaeology and prehistoric archaeology” can bring greater precision to the analysis of individual finds as well as to the general understanding of domestic space in antiquity. “Such studies … enable us to see connections between specific spatial configurations, modes of behaviour and their associated ideologies.”38 Nevett’s book Domestic Space in Classical Antiquity examines the role that built domestic space played in the Greco-Roman world. Physical domestic space can provide insight into status differences and displays, conformity to social expectations, membership in social or cultural groups outside the household, the integrity of household boundaries, and other issues. Yet as Nevett notes, the evidence provided by a single house can be complex and sometimes contradictory. Expressions of identity in the domestic context are potentially very variable: they may be both conscious and unconscious and may involve assertions about membership of social, cultural and ethnic groups as well as about social, economic or even political status. A single house can simultaneously convey a number of messages about different aspects of identity, or indeed about a variety of identities. This can be done through a range of elements including architecture and decoration, as well as the organisation of rooms and exterior spaces, their relationship to each other, and the uses to which they are put. Messages may sometimes be mixed, or even contradictory, with, for example, contrasting cultural affiliations expressed by the architecture of a house and by the pattern of use of 39 the internal rooms.

35 Cf. G. P. R. MÉTRAUX, Ancient Housing: “Oikos” and “Domus” in Greece and Rome, JSAH 58 (1999), pp. 392-405, esp. p. 394, contrasting S. WALKER, Women and Housing in Classical Greece: The Archaeological Evidence, in: A. Cameron/A. Kuhrt (eds.), Images of Women in Antiquity, Detroit, Mich.: Wayne State University Press 1983, pp. 81-91, with L. C. NEVETT, Separation or Seclusion? Towards an Archaeological Approach to Investigating Women in the Greek Household in the 5th to 3rd Centuries B.C., in: M. Parker Pearson/C. Richards (eds.), Architecture and Order: Approaches to Social Space (Material cultures), London: Routledge 1994, pp. 98-112. 36 Cf. especially P. M. A LLISON, Using the Material and Written Sources: Turn of the Millenium Approaches to Roman Domestic Space, AJA 105 (2001), pp. 181-208. 37 NEVETT, Domestic Space in Classical Antiquity (see n. 33), p. 3. 38 NEVETT, Domestic Space in Classical Antiquity (see n. 33), p. 17. 39 NEVETT, Domestic Space in Classical Antiquity (see n. 33), p. 8.

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Difficulties arise because, as noted above, ancient houses cannot be observed as lived, and because it is not always clear that contemporary categories or values would have been understood in the same way in antiquity. Nevett and others, for example, continue to debate whether the modern public/private distinction was operative in the ancient world, and to what extent.40 At the same time, experts in ancient domestic space allow that cultural constraints, status differences, and concerns for the integrity of the household made it necessary that both physical and visual access to certain parts of the house be controlled, normally through architectural design.41 Gretchen Meyers explains this using the language of “access analysis, a method developed by structural anthropologists to relate the theories of space to ancient material remains.”42 Yet “whether the ideals materialised in the domestic architecture were actually followed in daily social practice is, of course, impossible to judge.”43 Despite this interest in understanding “real” or “lived” domestic space in antiquity, recent studies also examine how ancient texts use the idea of the house rhetorically and imaginatively. In her 2003 dissertation on imagery of the home in Vitruvius and Cicero, Gillian McIntosh shows that “there is a sociology about the home; there is a sense of equivalence between the home and the self; there is a philosophical quality to the home, that ties self, space, and language together; the home is a vital and lived metaphor.”44 Such authors use the imagery of the home in such a way that 40 Cf. NEVETT, Domestic Space in Classical Antiquity (see n. 33), p. 6, citing S. KENT, Partitioning Space: Cross-Cultural Factors Influencing Domestic Space Segregation, Environment and Behaviour 23 (1991), pp. 438-473; cf. also A. M. RIGGSBY, “Public” and “Private” in Roman Culture: The Case of the Cubiculum, Journal of Roman Archaeology 10 (1997), pp. 36-56. In this study of literary references to the cubiculum (a small, private, inner room) in the Roman house, Riggsby argued that the ethical demands pertinent to this interior space, access to which was strictly controlled, are best understood using the language of “responsibility” rather than “rights”: in other words, the ancient Roman thought that “being in a given area does not so much allow behaviour as it compels actions ‘appropriate’ to that space” ibid., p. 36; cf. further NEVETT, Domestic Space in Classical Antiquity (see n. 33), pp. 143-145. 41 Cf. N EVETT, Domestic Space in Classical Antiquity (see n. 33), pp. 42, 62, 86-87, 143-145. 42 G. E. MEYERS, Vitruvius and the Origins of Roman Spatial Rhetoric, MAAR 50 (2005), pp. 67-86, esp. pp. 77-78. 43 NEVETT, Domestic Space in Classical Antiquity (see n. 33), p. 144. 44 G. E. MCINTOSH, Re-Thinking the Roman Domus: How Architects and Orators Construct Self, Space, and Language, Columbus, Ohio: Ph.D. Dissertation, Ohio State University 2003, p. ii. McIntosh gives some illustrative examples: Lucretius, 4.512-521 (a house built with faulty tools is ramshackle and prone to collapse, just as faulty senses in life lead to bad decisions and results); Plutarch, Publ. 10.1-5 and Livy 2.7 (Valerius tore down his ostentatious house because it “suggested inappropriate claims to reign”);

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“real relations are (re)negotiated … and imaginary relations are faced and thought through.”45 McIntosh presents an especially close study of the house-as-self metaphor in Cicero’s De domo sua.46 Along different lines, Meyers shows that “ancient Roman rhetoricians … utilized architectural images as loci, mental constructs composed of physical places [in which] to house ideas for memorization or arrangement in speech.”47 Interestingly, Vitruvius described the process of conceiving, designing, and executing an architectural plan using the traditional rhetorical language for creating and delivering a speech.48 How does all this illuminate the domestic space imagery in the Jesus tradition, particularly in Q? First, it shows that configurations (or imaginations, or depictions) of domestic space convey ideological or symbolic content. Even if we are quite far removed from the Q community’s actual lived experiences of home, despite the efforts of Richardson, Guijarro, and Moxnes, these new perspectives on domestic space in antiquity can help us understand the ideological or symbolic weight which particular sayings carry. Second, it is a significant insight that the house can work as a metaphor for the human person, as McIntosh explains using Cicero. Certain Q sayings also use this trope, Q 11,24-26 for example (in which a tidied and swept house is a metaphor for a person whose exorcism was temporarily successful). Yet even where such a correlation is lacking, it is still worth remembering the close association between domestic space and social identity which this suggests. Third, even if our contemporary understanding of the distinction between “public” and “private” does not apply to an ancient text like Q, the fact that the ancients sought to control visual and physical access to a house, as a way to maintain social hierarchies and the integrity of the household, also illustrates what we find in Q. Q 13,24-27, for example, relies for its rhetorical power on the imagery of a locked door and of a group excluded from entry. Just as controlling access to interior space determined the identity of the household in relation to the wider society – even if such boundaries were complex, negotiable, or even porous – so also the imaginative construction of such controlled or restricted access serves to shape rhetorically the identity of the hearers of such sayings.

Suetonius, Jul. 81.3 (Calpurnia dreamt that one of the roof’s gables fell, the night before Caesar’s murder) ibid., pp. 4-5. 45 MCINTOSH, Re-Thinking the Roman Domus (see n. 44), p. 198. 46 Cf. MC INTOSH, Re-Thinking the Roman Domus (see n. 44), pp. 107-146. 47 MEYERS, Vitruvius and the Origins of Roman Spatial Rhetoric (see n. 42), p. 76, citing Quintilian, Inst. 11.2.18-21. 48 Cf. MCINTOSH, Re-Thinking the Roman Domus (see n. 44), pp. 72-76.

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4. Insights from Theories of Critical Spatiality The idea of the “production of space,” that is, of space as a social construct, has a long philosophical lineage,49 but our discussion begins with the work of Henri Lefebvre. In his words, “(Social) space is a (social) product.”50 The “initial error” (or ideology, as he suggests) is to see space as neutrally as the site in which social activity unfolds. Instead, Lefebvre insists, “Space is social morphology: it is to lived experience what form itself is to the living organism, and just as intimately bound up with function and structure. To picture space as a ‘frame’ or container into which nothing can be put unless it is smaller than the recipient, and to imagine that this container has no other purpose than to preserve what has been put into it – this is probably the initial error.”51 Lefebvre proposes that a “unitary theory” is necessary in order to understand the complexity of space as a social product. Such a theory must account for space in three different “fields”: First, the physical – nature, the Cosmos; secondly, the mental, including logical and formal abstractions; and thirdly, the social. In other words, we are concerned with logicoepistemological space, the space of social practice, the space occupied by sensory phenomena, including products of the imagination such as projects and projections, symbols 52 and utopia.

Lefebvre’s threefold way of analyzing space as a social product, what he calls his “conceptual triad” has already been mentioned: (1) “spatial practice” (la pratique spatial, or l’espace perçu), that is, real space as really produced, built, and perceived; (2) “representations of space” (les représentations de l’espace, or l’espace conçu), that is, the conceptual systems which are the foundations of spatial practice; and (3) “representational spaces,” or: “spaces of representation” (les espaces de représentation, or l’espace veçu), that is, the “complex symbolisms” by means of which space becomes “lived,” and which determine how human beings inhabit, make sense of, or even oppose, socially-produced space.53 49

For a succinct account of how philosophers from Plato to Lefebvre have understood space, cf. M. K. G EORGE, Space and History: Siting Critical Space for Biblical Studies, in: Berquist/Camp (eds.), Constructions of Space I (see n. 5), pp. 15-31; See also ZIELENIEC , Space and Social Theory (see n. 27), and STEWART, Gathered Around Jesus (see n. 6), pp. 30-61. 50 LEFEBVRE, The Production of Space (see n. 2), p. 26 (emphasis original). 51 LEFEBVRE, The Production of Space (see n. 2), p. 94. 52 LEFEBVRE, The Production of Space (see n. 2), pp. 11-12. 53 LEFEBVRE, The Production of Space (see n. 2), pp. 33, 38-40, and throughout; cf. also SOJA, Thirdspace (see n. 7), pp. 60-70, and ZIELENIEC, Space and Social Theory (see n. 27), pp. 72-75 for useful explanations. For helpful summaries of Lefebvre’s spatial theory from the perspective of biblical studies, cf. J. L. BERQUIST, Introduction: Critical

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Mark George illustrates Lefebvre’s conceptual triad with the example of an American cemetery.54 First, “spatial practice” has to do with the location, appearance, and actual design of the cemetery, its buildings, roads, paths, fences, gates, and so on. Without this actual spatial practice, the relations which are worked out therein “would remain in the realm of ‘pure’ abstraction – that is to say, in the realm of representations and hence of ideology.”55 Second, “representations of space” are the organizational concepts and principles which determined how and why the cemetery was situated, laid out, and used as it is; this includes the city-planning considerations of location and layout, but also, for example, the business questions of the prices of burial plots and the day-to-day management of excavations and burials. Third, “spaces of representation” include the religious or symbolic meanings according to which the space becomes significant to those who use it, and the various accepted customs (decoration, decorum, etc.) that are appropriate to the use of a cemetery as a social space. All this “overlays physical space, making symbolic use of its objects.”56 Often, George points out, such “symbolic meanings … may only be partially understood in the first place, [and may] overlap and conflict with one another.”57 According to Lefebvre, “spaces of representation” can also challenge or subvert customary spatial constructs, even though he maintained that normally these symbolic systems are modes of domination that most members of a society experience passively.58 George also explains that Lefebvre’s approach to space is useful for biblical scholars because it is historically interested.59 Lefebvre never used his conceptual triad in abstraction, but always to analyze ways in which actual societies (or as he sometimes says, “modes of production”) produced space. In addition, because Lefebvre’s analysis is essentially Marxist, he sees domination as a decisive factor not only in how societies produce space (in spatial practice and in representations of space), but also in the way that a society’s myths, rituals, symbols, traditions, and so on determine how its members think about and live in space (in spaces of representation). As he says, “space thus produced … in addition to being a means of production, is also a means of control, and hence of domination, Spatiality and the Uses of Theory, in: Berquist/Camp (eds.), Constructions of Space I (see n. 5), pp. 1-12; GEORGE, Space and History (see n. 49), pp. 26-29. 54 Cf. GEORGE, Space and History (see n. 49), pp. 27-28. 55 LEFEBVRE, The Production of Space (see n. 2), p. 129. 56 LEFEBVRE, The Production of Space (see n. 2), p. 39. 57 GEORGE, Space and History (see n. 49), p. 28. 58 LEFEBVRE, The Production of Space (see n. 2), p. 39; cf. also SOJA, Thirdspace (see n. 7), p. 68. 59 Cf. GEORGE, Space and History (see n. 49), p. 29; cf. also ZIELENIEC, Space and Social Theory (see n. 27), pp. 79-80.

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of power.”60 Thus in later work Lefebvre analyzed urban planning as ideology.61 Edward Soja is another critical spatial theorist whose work has been found useful by biblical scholars. In Thirdspace: Journeys to Los Angeles and Other Real-and-Imagined Places (1996), Soja proposes first a “trialectics of being” – historicality, sociality, spatiality – and then, following and “reappropriating” Lefebvre, a “trialectics of spatiality” – space as perceived, conceived, and lived.62 Soja refers to Lefebvre’s “spatial practice” or space which can be assessed or interpreted through human perception as “Firstspace”: “Firstspace epistemologies tend to privilege objectivity and materiality, and to aim toward a formal science of space.”63 This materialized, socially produced, empirical space is described [by Lefebvre] as perceived space, directly sensible and open, within limits, to accurate measurement and description. It is the traditional focus of attention in all the spatial disciplines and the 64 material grounding for what I redescribe as Firstspace.

Soja’s “Secondspace” adapts the second part of Lefebvre’s triad. “Secondspace epistemologies” concentrate “on conceived rather than perceived space” and assume “that spatial knowledge is primarily produced through discursively devised representations of space, through the spatial workings of the mind.”65 Further, “in Secondspace the imagined geography tends to become the ‘real’ geography, with the image or representation coming to define and order the reality.”66 Traditionally, says Soja, theorists have thought that a full account of spatiality can be had by combining “space as perceived” knowledge with “space as conceived.”67 But “Thirdspace epistemologies … [arise] from the sympathetic deconstruction and heuristic reconstitution of the Firstspace-Secondspace duality.”68 “Thirdspace” is “the creation of another mode of thinking about space that draws upon the material and mental space of the traditional dualism but extends well beyond them in scope, substance, and meaning.”69 Here Soja evidently col60

LEFEBVRE, The Production of Space (see n. 2), p. 26. Cf. ZIELENIEC, Space and Social Theory (see n. 27), p. 79: “Space may thus be viewed as produced or created, organised and regulated to facilitate the needs and demands of capitalism: the good, moral ordering of the city and society for the benefit of the accumulation of surplus value.” 61 Cf. ZIELENIEC, Space and Social Theory (see n. 27), pp. 80-84; H. LEFEBVRE, Writings on Cities, ed. and trans. E. Kofman/E. Lebas, Oxford: Blackwell 1996. 62 SOJA, Thirdspace (see n. 7), pp. 53-82. 63 SOJA, Thirdspace (see n. 7), p. 75. 64 SOJA, Thirdspace (see n. 7), p. 66, emphasis original. 65 SOJA, Thirdspace (see n. 7), pp. 78-79. 66 SOJA, Thirdspace (see n. 7), p. 79. 67 SOJA, Thirdspace (see n. 7), p. 78. 68 SOJA, Thirdspace (see n. 7), p. 81. 69 SOJA, Thirdspace (see n. 7), p. 11.

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lapses Lefebvre’s “space as conceived” (representations of space) and certain aspects of “space as lived” (spaces of representation) into what he calls “Secondspace.” He designates other “real-and-imagined” constructions of space as “Thirdspace,” particularly where they subvert either a dualistic approach to space or the dominating patterns embedded in status quo social constructions of space. Matthew Sleeman shows how Soja’s work can illuminate a biblical text. “Applied to the temple [in Mark], a firstspace perspective would focus upon the Temple Mount and the material practices associated with it. In contrast, secondspace focuses upon ideational space, the conceptual, the imagined. As such, the temple would be conceived of as a system of thought, an expression of categories of pure and impure, sacred and profane, insider and outsider.”70 Thirdspace seems a little more difficult to define and apply, however. Sleeman says that Mark’s narrative use of royal psalms in certain locales (for example, Psalm 118 in Mark 11) is “thirdspatial” in the way that it “reshape[s] these locales within the promise of new and alternative arrangements of space oriented around Jesus” rather than the temple.71 Eric Stewart similarly concludes: “Jesus [in Mark] offers an alternative spatial practice, one that is centered on himself. The kingdom of God exists spatially in the area around Jesus in which the new community ‘gathers’.… Mark rejects the current social configuration of space and establishes a new one in which proximity to Jesus is the key element.”72 However, Stewart arrives at this without adopting Soja’s methodology. Soja’s insight, that space can be constructed in a way that is both real and imagined, as an alternative to or in resistance against dominant or already-existing social constructions of space, seems appropriate and useful even if his terminology seems strange. The rhetorical use of imaginative or metaphorical constructions of space in a text like Q may be best analyzed using the third of Lefebvre’s conceptual triad, “spaces of representation.” Once again Harvey’s account of Lefebvre is insightful. He writes, “Spaces of representation are mental inventions (codes, signs, ‘spatial discourses,’ utopian plans, imaginary landscapes, and even material constructs such as symbolic spaces …) that imagine new meanings or possibilities for spatial practices.”73 The Q sayings that use domestic space imagery would naturally evoke the hearers’ lived experience of such spaces, whether simple and poorly-made oneroom houses (Q 6,48-49 and 11,33), or more elaborate multi-room houses 70

SLEEMAN, Mark, the Temple, and Space (see n. 7), p. 341. SLEEMAN, Mark, the Temple, and Space (see n. 7), p. 343. 72 STEWART, Gathered Around Jesus (see n. 6), p. 224. 73 HARVEY, The Condition of Postmodernity (see n. 25), pp. 218-219. This also approximates Soja’s concept of “Thirdspace.” 71

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(Q 13,25-27, 29-28, and 14,16-23). Take, for example, a large multi-room house that could accommodate a banquet with many guests. Guijarro’s insight that the Q people probably only knew of such houses as outsiders is arguable,74 but there is room for deeper analysis than this. Using the approach of Lefebvre, for example, we could analyze the Supper Parable as to spatial practice (how such a space would be perceived in the real world), representations of space (what conceptual foundations controlled where such a space would be situated, and how and why it would be used as it was), and spaces of representation (which complex symbolisms and conventions controlled how Galileans of different status, ethnicity, or kinship relationship might think about and behave in or around such a space). Thus Lefebvre’s conceptual triad would be an additional tool in the kind of social-scientific analysis which Guijarro and Richardson were attempting. However, as will be seen below, the approaches of critical spatiality are also useful when analyzing the rhetorical force of material like the Supper Parable. A final insight useful for the study of domestic space in Q arises when mythic space is read through the work of critical spatial theorists. Yi-Fu Tuan describes two types of mythic space: “in the one, mythical space is a fuzzy area of defective knowledge surrounding the empirically known; it frames pragmatic space. In the other it is the spatial component of a world view, a conception of localized values within which people carry out their practical activities.”75 In apocalyptic texts that construct mythic space in the second sense – Daniel, the Similitudes of Enoch, or Revelation, for example – the “localized values” enacted in the apocalyptic space of the heavenly realm are meant to alter the identity and behaviour of the readers in their “practical activities.” Q seems not to construct apocalyptic space along such lines, except for (possibly) Q 12,8-9. Kathryn Lopez uses categories drawn from both Soja and Michel Foucault to explain how apocalyptic texts construct un-earthly or newearthly space, and to what effect. Lopez explains apocalyptic space as an “alternative spatialization,” a “Thirdspace” strategy: “[apocalyptic texts] created an alternative space that could successfully resist the Secondspace definitions of other Jewish groups as well as those placed upon the region as a colony.”76 Lopez also uses Foucault’s distinction between utopian and heterotopian space. Foucault explains that “certain [sites] have the curious 74 GUIJARRO, Domestic Space, Family Relationships and Social Location (see n. 8), pp. 73-74. 75 TUAN, Space and Place (see n. 31), p. 86. 76 K. M. LOPEZ, Standing Before the Throne of God: Critical Spatiality in Apocalyptic Scenes of Judgment, in: Berquist/Camp (eds.), Constructions of Space II (see n. 5), pp. 139-155, p. 143.

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property of being in relation to all other sites, but in such a way as to suspect, neutralize, or invert the set of relations that they happen to designate, mirror, or reflect.”77 Utopias are spaces having “a general relation of direct or inverted analogy with the real space of society,” and present society either as “perfected” or “turned upside down.” Heterotopias are real places “which are something like counter-sites, a kind of effectively enacted utopia in which the real sites, all the other real sites that can be found within the culture, are simultaneously represented, contested, and inverted.”78 Lopez claims that apocalyptic literature constructs heterotopian as well as utopian space, because by accepting the truth of the text, members of the apocalyptic group “[enter] the ‘space’ of the literature thereby making it the real space of the group.”79 Again, this is suggestive for the Q material, as will be seen in the analysis which follows below. In Q 13,29-28, the idea of “the kingdom of God” is both spatialized and concretized through the metaphor of domestic space.

5. Beginning Analyses: Q 12,33-34; Q 12,42-46; Q 13,29-28 Ideally, fuller analyses of sayings in Q using the imagery of domestic space would follow a more comprehensive survey of the narrative and imaginative functions of space in Q. Paying attention to depictions of city, town, village, agora, synagogue, villa, house, field, and wilderness would help to account for the rhetorical significance of domestic space within Q’s overall spatial constructions. What follows is intended merely to illustrate the potential for the analysis of early Christian texts such as Q of the insights and principles described in the above sections.

77 M. FOUCAULT, Of Other Spaces, Diacritics 16 (1986), pp. 22-27, p. 24. Soja also uses Foucault’s notion of heterotopia: cf. SOJA, Thirdspace (see n. 7), pp. 15-16, 145163. 78 FOUCAULT, Of Other Spaces (see n. 77), p. 24. Foucault has in mind such “real” spaces as psychiatric hospitals and cemeteries. 79 LOPEZ, Standing Before the Throne of God (see n. 76), p. 144.

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5.1. Q 12,33-34: Treasures in Heaven80 33

«Do not treasure for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and gnawing deface and where robbers dig through and rob,» but treasure for yourselves treasure«s» in heaven, where neither moth nor gnawing defaces and where robbers do not dig through nor rob. 34 For where your treasure is, there will also be your heart.

Here the impermanence of stored or even hoarded goods is contrasted with the enduring qualities of “treasure(s) in heaven.” Even the smallest and simplest houses would have some interior space set aside for the storage of food or goods, but the notion of a thief digging in to steal such goods seems to suggest a larger house that would have had a room or rooms set aside for storage, and the attraction of thieves suggests that the stored items were of use or of value.81 In the opinion of Guijarro, other sayings in Q suggest that the Q community was “socially distant” from such houses.82 How such houses were constructed and used, and why, and the various social patterns and cultural assumptions according to which they were inhabited, could be illuminated by recent work on ancient domestic space. There is not much information to go on here, however. Although the point of the saying is to counsel patterns of behaviour that will result in “heavenly treasure,” these behaviours are not specified; the saying could also imply that storing or treasuring up goods is not only wrong-headed, because stored goods cannot last, but that hoarding itself is wrong. The saying’s proximity to Q 12,22b-31, which advises hearers not to worry about food and clothing, might suggest this. The permanence of “heavenly treasure” is an eschatological idea, and this aligns the saying with Q 12,3940, in which an expected break-in is compared with the coming of the Son of Man. The saying’s imagery (v. 34) seems to suggest that heavenly treasures are interior things, having to do with the heart. This saying can therefore be seen as using the house-as-self metaphor, even if there seems to be a real concern here about actual hoarding of material goods.83 Other sayings 80 Reconstructions and translations of Q are taken from J. M. ROBINSON/P. H OFFMANN/J. S. K LOPPENBORG (eds.), The Critical Edition of Q: A Synopsis, Including the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, Mark and Thomas: With English, German and French Translations of Q and Thomas (Hermeneia Supplements), Leuven: Peeters/Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2000. 81 GUIJARRO, Domestic Space (see n. 8), p. 73 (on Q 12,39). Cf. J. S. KLOPPENBORG, Papyrology and the Study of Parables in Q, pp. 287-306 (in this volume), who supplies papyrological evidence that thieves would steal practically any useful item regardless of its value. 82 Cf. GUIJARRO, Domestic Space (see n. 8), pp. 73-74. 83 Cf. R. A. P IPER, Wealth, Poverty and Subsistence in Q, in: J. M. Asgeirsson/K. de Troyer/M. W. Meyer (eds.): From Quest to Q: FS J. M. Robinson (BEThL 146), Leuven: Peeters 2000, pp. 219-264, p. 230.

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in Q also use the house-as-self metaphor: Q 11,24-26 (about the failed exorcism), Q 6,43-45 (about good and bad people bringing things out of their storerooms like good and bad plants bring forth fruit), and Q 6,48-49 (about how responding to Jesus’ teachings is like building a house that comes under threat of collapse). As noted above, this was a fairly standard topos in classical literature. Using Lefebvre’s conceptual triad as an analytical tool, we could ask about the space of the hoarder’s house as perceived space (in relation to its functions in spatial practice), as conceived space (in relation to the social, economic, and other factors that account for its situation, construction, style, use, and so forth), and as lived space (in relation to the symbolisms, conventions, and ideologies that constrained how people would think and act in relation to such a house). In terms of Lefebvre’s “spaces of representation,” how might a hearer think about a large house with significant storage space and with valuable goods stored away? Someone who stores away for the future could be seen as prudent, but hoarding could also be interpreted as greed (Luke 12,16-21 with Luke 12,15). Wealth and abundance were often seen as a sign of divine blessing, but accumulating such wealth, sometimes through oppression, was what the wicked did (1 Enoch 97,7-10). Here, however, as Ronald Piper notes, “there is no direct judgement upon earthly treasure itself as ‘unrighteous’ or tainted; its defect is that it is corruptible and temporary.”84 Wealthy householders who have both the means and the physical space to accumulate and hoard may wish to do so, but persons of low status living at subsistence level have no option. Trends in first-century Galilee toward increased monetization and tenancy only heightened such disparities.85 Luke allows for this great disparity by linking the parable of the rich fool (Luke 12,16-21) with Q’s speech on worry (Q 12,22-31; Luke 12,22-32). Q 12,33-34, whether heard by rich or poor, focuses on the inability of a householder (or of a large house) to prevent such calamities as infestation, rust, and break-ins, and thereby also pronounces the weakness and impermanence of houses in which goods can be hoarded. The place of real security and permanence is heaven, in contrast with which the house in which goods are hoarded becomes a non-place, under eschatological threat (this particularly with Q 12,39-40 in view). The saying does not construct an alternative space imaginatively or metaphorically. The only alternative space here is the interiority of the human heart.

84

P IPER, Wealth, Poverty and Subsistence in Q (see n. 83), p. 232. Cf. W. E. ARNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes: Galilean Conflicts and the Setting of Q, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2001, p. 158. 85

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5.2. Q 12,42-46: Faithful and Unfaithful Slaves 42

Who then is the faithful ⟦and⟧ wise slave whom the master put over his household to give ⟦them⟧ food on time? 43 Blessed is that slave whose master, on coming, will find so doing. 44 ⟦Amen⟧, I tell you, he will appoint him over all his possessions. 45 But if that slave says in his heart: My master is delayed, and begins to beat ⟦his fellow slaves⟧, and eats and drinks ⟦with the⟧ drunk⟦ards⟧, 46 the master of that slave will come on a day he does not expect and at an hour he does not know, and will cut him to pieces and give him an inheritance with the faithless.

The eschatological interpretation of the parable is clear not only from the way the punishment exacted on the second slave drifts towards the eschatological (v. 46), but also from its proximity to Q 12,39-40 (see also Q 19,12-26 with Q 17,23-37). Here again the setting of the saying is a large house, as indicated by the situation of one slave acting on behalf of the master, dispensing food to the household (perhaps the οἰκετεία of slaves). Initially, this setting does not seem as important as the obedience and conduct of the slave, who either acts responsibly and obediently or dissolutely and violently. Yet the house is very important, as the space from which the master departs and then to which he returns, in which the master’s commissioning is either carried out or disregarded, and in which judgment and recompense occur. Unless doling out food (either literally or metaphorically) somehow encapsulates a paraenetic directive, the saying is a general exhortation to faithfulness in view of the impending eschatological crisis. Guijarro observes that sayings in Q which are set in large houses tend to be interested in the relationship between the master and his slaves, and show little knowledge of the relationships among the members of the elite family.86 Although this saying does show an awareness of the nature of the relationship between master and slave (see also Q 14,16-23; 16,13; 19,1226), it seems problematic to propose a generally low social status for the Q community, as Guijarro does. One assumes that anyone in Galilee would have understood the social conventions that governed the use of domestic space by both the elite family and its slaves, and the saying’s focus on these conventions may simply be a result of the saying’s use of one of Q’s favourite stock characters, the κύριος. The elite household and its space are clearly important in the imagery of Q, but it is difficult to know what to make of Q’s silence concerning the internal dynamics of elite families. There seems to be little in this saying that the recent developments in the study of domestic space in antiquity can illuminate, but one or two observations can be made when the work of Lefebvre and Soja is applied. 86

Cf. GUIJARRO, Domestic Space (see n. 8), pp. 73-74, referencing C. OSIEK/D. L. BALCH, Families in the New Testament World: Households and House Churches, Louisville, Ky: Westminster John Knox Press 1997, pp. 29-30, 76-78.

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Lefebvre’s account of “space as lived” (spaces of representation) would include the conventions of the master-slave relationship and of slave behaviour in the large, elite house. Soja’s description of “thirdspace” as “real-and-imagined” is somewhat more helpful here. The saying constructs an image of this large house for the hearer, a house in which duties are assigned and the master’s authority is absolute, and this house stands for the “space” in which the hearer’s duties and obligations are carried out (in response to the directives of Jesus the κύριος, one assumes). Thus the metaphorical space of the house becomes, in the saying’s imaginative construction of space, the “real-and-imagined” place of obedience and disobedience, that is, the world in which the hearer lives. The world, however, is now imagined as a space over which even the absent Jesus has complete authority, even if has been deferred for a time, and this authority extends to both the “faithful and wise” who are rewarded (vv. 42-44), and the faithless and unwise whose punishment will be severe (vv. 45-46). The return of the Son of Man (12,40) hangs over this space as both promise and threat, just as the return of the master hangs over the household-space imagined by the parable. 5.3. Q 13,29-28: Many Shall Come from East and West ⟦And many⟧ shall come from Sunrise and Sunset and recline 28with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of God, but ⟦you will be⟧ thrown out ⟦into the⟧ out⟦er darkness⟧, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth.

29

Here, again, we find the imagery of a large elite house, one with significant space for banqueting. This time it is the basis of an inside/outside rhetoric, as in other Q sayings (Q 13,25-27; 14,16-23). Although the only textual evidence that Q 13,29-28 imagines a banquet is the verb ἀνακλιϑήσονται, other Q texts in close proximity (Q 13,25-27; 14,16-23) confirm this.87 In contrast with Q 12,42-46, in which faithful execution of appointed duties is the deciding issue, here there is no clear reason given why the many who come from east and west are included in the banquet while others, addressed in the second person, are thrown out. Hearers, despite the second person, will perhaps situate themselves in the banquet, or at least examine their fitness for being included, or reasons they might be excluded. The saying thus is divisive, and this has everything to do with how it constructs the “space” of the kingdom (ἐν τῇ βασιλείᾳ) imaginatively as a large house access to which is controlled. Fellowship with the patriarchs (in the house, one assumes) is starkly contrasted with consignment to “out⟦er darkness⟧,” the place of wailing and teeth-grinding, 87 Cf. Q 13,26: ἐϕάγοµεν ἐνώπιόν σου καὶ ἐπίοµεν; Q 14,16-17: ἄνϑρωπός τις ἐποίει δεῖπνον ⟦µέγα, καὶ ἐκάλεσεν πολλούς〛; ἔρχεσϑε, ὅτι ἤδη ἕτοιµά ἐστιν.

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which really has no spatial dimensions apart from being “outside” or “notinside.” The related sayings mentioned above (Q 13,25-27; 14,16-23) also construct such an imaginary space, using similar imagery of a sizeable house in which access to the dining space is carefully controlled. Of course, conventions regarding dining – particularly the host-guest relationship, invitations, and late-coming – are all taken for granted in these two sayings. In all three texts, some are included and others excluded, for within Q the eschaton is viewed as a time of reversal and division; but the spatial metaphor carries this idea entirely. Even apart from questions about the relevance of our notions of “privacy” in antiquity, these sayings all presume as fundamental the idea of controlled access to interior domestic space. Thus, as noted above, they all may be analyzed according to Lefebvre’s conceptual triad, as a way of, with his third approach to space (spaces of representation/space as lived) being the most useful for explaining the sayings, both socio-historically and rhetorically. Of course, such a study could also incorporate material data in order to understand an elite house with space for banqueting in relation to Lefebvre’s first two approaches (spatial practice/space as perceived; representations of space/ space as conceived). Digs such as those analyzed by Richardson would be useful.88 But governing the use of this space (as lived) by the host, his immediate family, invited or spurned guests, slaves and servants, and outsiders of various social, ethnic or kinship statuses, are the norms and conventions and symbolisms that determined how the space became “lived space.” Here socio-historical questions overlap with rhetorical issues. Two significant insights arise. First, Q 13,29-28 constructs an imagined space in which someone normally considered an outsider would not only be allowed access, but would also be welcomed as an honoured guest, while those who would normally claim the right to such access, or the honour of such an invitation, are excluded (as also in Q 14,23). The accepted spatialities relevant to large houses are not only presumed, but are also inverted. Access is still controlled spatially and conventionally: spatially in the sense that one is either inside or outside, and conventionally in the sense that the uninvited or unwelcome may be excluded or expelled on the grounds of the social conventions concerning such meals. This simultaneous acceptance and reversal of the accepted norms governing the space of an elite house is explicitly identified with “the kingdom.” Thus, in Harvey’s language, a new possibility for spatial practice, even a “utopian plan,” is being imagined,89 but along the lines of Q’s divisive eschatology. Or, in Soja’s language, the house in the saying is “real-and-imagined”: 88 89

Cf. RICHARDSON, First-Century Houses and Q’s Setting (see n. 8). HARVEY, The Condition of Postmodernity (see n. 25), pp. 218-219.

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imagined in the sense that this is just a metaphor, but real in the sense that membership in the eschatological banquet determines group identity and behaviour in the here-and-now, even if the saying does not explicitly state the qualifications for participation in the banquet. One may even say that the rhetorical strategy is “thirdspatial,” for it proposes an alternative space that subverts the accepted dominating patterns embedded in norms and conventions governing behaviour in, and in relation to, an elite house. Second, Q 13,29-28 uses the imagery of a banquet to inscribe the future kingdom spatially as a house: “many shall come from Sunrise and Sunset and shall recline with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of God” (v. 29). As already noted, in comparison with apocalypses such as the Book of Revelation, Q does not “construct” heaven spatially, even if it is the location of reward (6,23), lasting treasure (12,33), the Father (11,13), and (one assumes) testimony before angels (12,8-9). In Q 13,29-28, the kingdom is concretized through the imagery of domestic space, not defined apocalyptically as mythic space through heavenly journeys or visions. When “kingdom” becomes, in Q 13,29-28, not only the “rule” of God, or the “realm” of God, but a real-and-imagined “house,” the text both accepts and subverts the typical systems of symbolism and convention (“spaces of representation”) normally associated with certain types of domestic space, as suggested above. This use of the imagery – both utopian and heterotopian, to use Foucault’s language – changes not only how hearers imagine the kingdom and understand their identity and the behaviour required of them, but also how they view the actual spatial practices of elite houses. Such an imagined house, qua metaphor, determines (at least within this saying) how the kingdom and participation in it may be understood. However, because the metaphor is applied to the kingdom, the “real” spatial practices and conventions associated with such a house, even the physical structures themselves (cf. Q 12,33-34), are pronounced to be impermanent and transitory. Why be concerned about being excluded from the houses and banquets of the elite when one is assured of one’s participation in the kingdom banquet? Thus, Q seems both to build houses (metaphorically, to explain eschatological reversal and division) and to tear them down (socially, by subverting accepted spatial practices).

6. Conclusion There is room, it seems, for a more inclusive approach to the study of space in a text like Q. Combining insights gleaned from the study of domestic space in antiquity with new approaches to space as a social construct seems to be a productive way to analyze “house” and “household”

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imagery in Q. Such a combined approach would have the benefit of producing richer readings of Q’s use of space, both socio-historically and rhetorically. This paper therefore confirms, although hopefully with more methodological clarity, the basic insight of Moxnes concerning Q, that it constructs space imaginatively to real effect in order to define group identity and behaviour. Whether the conclusions Moxnes reached concerning the actual social circumstances behind this metaphorical construction of kingdom as house/household are appropriate is another question. Where he concluded that “Jesus’ sayings about the kingdom as household established a new home for his followers, who had left or experienced conflicts with their own household of origin,”90 it seems more prudent to suggest that the rhetorical function of these constructions of space lies more close to hand, and gives deeper insight into the instruction of Q and its significance in early Christian identity-formation. Moxnes is also keen to attribute to Jesus himself the “countercultural [approach to] the practice and ideology of houses and politics in Galilee” found in Q.91 Whatever the origin of these sayings, a close look at Q 12,33-34, Q 12,42-46, and Q 13,29-28 suggests that the imagery was used in service of an apocalyptic rhetoric meant to destabilize conventional ideas about houses and about membership in the elect.

90 91

MOXNES, Putting Jesus in His Place (see n. 8), p. 140. MOXNES, Putting Jesus in His Place (see n. 8), p. 141.

Q and Family Ties Christopher Tuckett The sayings in Q1 about family relations, in particular about the relations between would-be followers of Jesus and their own families, are not often discussed within the context of debates about the ‘theology of Q’.2 It is certainly the case that sayings about family relations (and/or sayings or events with implications for family relationships) are spread widely across the various gospel traditions.3 In this Q is no exception. The most directly

1

I take ‘Q’ here to be the form of Q is something like its ‘final’ form as used by Matthew and Luke. I am fully aware of theories of strata within Q: cf. the seminal work by J. S. K LOPPENBORG, The Formation of Q: Trajectories in Ancient Wisdom Collections (Studies in Antiquity and Christianity), Philadelphia, Pa.: Fortress Press 1987, and many others following him; for discussion, see C. M. TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity, Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1996, ch. 2. 2 Studies of the family, and the family sayings in the gospels (as well as familial language elsewhere in the NT) abound. But studies of the Q tradition specifically, within the broader context of study of Q, are less common. Cf. J. H. NEYREY, Loss of Wealth, Loss of Family and Loss of Honour: The Cultural Context of the Original Makarisms in Q, in: P. F. Esler (ed.), Modelling Early Christianity: Social-scientific Studies of the New Testament in its Context, London: Routledge 1995, pp. 139-158, who is one of the few to discuss the issue specifically, with his conclusion on pp. 156-157: ‘more serious consideration needs to be given to the basic social institution of antiquity, namely the family … Further studies in Q would do well to investigate the role of families in socializing new members and exercising social control.’ Two other important essays by A. Jacobson have also appeared: A. D. J ACOBSON, Divided Families and Christian Origins, in: R. A. Piper (ed.), The Gospel Behind the Gospels: Current Studies on Q (NT.S 75), Leiden: E. J. Brill 1995, pp. 361-380; IDEM, Jesus against the Family: The Dissolution of Family Ties in the Gospel Tradition, in: J. M. Asgeirsson/K. de Troyer/M. W. Meyer (eds.), From Quest to Q: FS J. M. Robinson (BEThL 146), Leuven: Peeters 2000, pp. 189-218. 3 Cf. the wide range of evidence assembled by scholars such as G. THEISSEN, The First Followers of Jesus: A Sociological Analysis of the Earliest Christianity, London: SCM Press 1978, in his reconstruction of a proposed life-style of ‘Wanderradikalismus’ adopted by at least some of the earliest Christians. Part of the critique that has been mounted against Theissen has focused on the way in which he appealed to evidence from a very wide range of sources (including the four canonical gospels and the Didache); but the critique itself simply highlights the fact that sayings suggesting that early Christians

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relevant Q sayings are perhaps (a) the saying of Jesus in Q 9,60 (‘Let the dead bury the dead’)4 in response to a would-be follower’s request to put off an immediate response to Jesus’ call to follow by pleading for time to bury his father, (b) the warning of internecine strife caused by Jesus’ activity in Q 12,51-53, and (c) the saying about the necessity to ‘hate’ other members of one’s immediate family if one is to be a follower of Jesus in Q 14,26.5 The apparent rejection of the importance or value of family ties reflected in these sayings meshes in well at one level with other sayings and/or events elsewhere in gospel traditions and clearly seems to be a deeply embedded feature of the Jesus tradition. The relation of such sayings to other parts of the Jesus tradition creates problems which are well known and have been rehearsed many times. For example, in relation to the Jewish Law, the presence of the sayings involving the family gives rise to some tension between a Jesus who apparently invites and encourages would-be followers to desert their families and ignore the basic obligations of family responsibilities and a Jesus who appeals to the (apparently) unquestionable authority of the fourth commandment of the Decalogue about honouring one’s father and mother (Mark 7,10). As such, this particular tension certainly creates problems for those seeking to interpret the tradition at the level of the historical Jesus, or Mark. For Q, such tension might appear at first sight to be not quite as acute, or as immediately problematic, as in the case of Mark or Matthew, since Q does not contain a tradition of Jesus appealing to the command of the Decalogue to honour one’s parents. On the other hand, the problem is still present by implication. Arguably Q has a firm and positive view about the importance and validity of the Jewish Law.6 Thus Q 16,17 appears to adopted an itinerant lifestyle, and in the process may have thereby been somewhat negative about family obligations, is widespread in early Christian sources. 4 For the most part, I do not engage here in detailed reconstructions of the precise wording of Q traditions down to the last word, though I note some of the most important issues of reconstruction (in relation to some key points where Matthew and Luke disagree in wording) in passing. 5 As is well known, the versions of Matthew and Luke differ here, with only Luke having Jesus talk about ‘hating’ one’s family: Matthew has Jesus speak of ‘loving [them] more than me’. It is widely accepted that Luke’s version here is more original, Matthew having toned down the radicalness of the more original form. See J. M. ROBINSON/P. H OFFMANN/J. S. K LOPPENBORG (eds.), The Critical Edition of Q: A Synopsis, Including the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, Mark and Thomas: With English, German and French Translations of Q and Thomas (Hermeneia Supplements), Leuven: Peeters/Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2000, pp. 450-452, and all the standard discussions of Q as well as commentaries on Matthew and Luke. 6 For fuller discussion, see TUCKETT, Q and the History (see n. 1), pp. 404-424. I am fully aware that some would argue that the emphasis on the validity of the Law in Q only

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assert the abiding validity of the Law down to the smallest detail (‘not one jot or tittle will fall from the Law …’). What may well be an (Q-) editorial gloss on an earlier saying in Q 11,42d asserts that, even if one appeals to broad notions of justice and mercy which the practice of tithing might threaten, nevertheless practice of these broad ethical ideals does not mean that the practice of tithing should be ignored (‘these things you should have done, but not left the others not done’). The saying in Q 14,5 seems to be a vestige of a Sabbath story in which Q’s Jesus defends his right to disobey Sabbath law by appealing to a legitimate precedent (or a precedent which it is presumed is legitimate).7 The temptation story in Q 4,1-13 may present Jesus as the ideal prototype for the Q followers of Jesus, and the most notable characteristic feature of the Jesus of this story is that he is obedient to scripture: his responses to the ‘temptations’ of the Devil are all in the form of citations of scripture so that Jesus is presented here as the archetypal obedient ‘Son’, whose obedience is precisely couched in terms of obedience to scripture. Thus although Q does not contain an explicit reference to the fourth command of the Decalogue, this is virtually implicit: the Jesus of Q seems to presuppose that obedience to the Jewish Law, and the whole Jewish Law, is axiomatic, both for himself and for his would-be followers. Hence the implications of the anti-familial sayings are no less real than for the Markan tradition (if not quite so much on the immediate surface). How can the Jesus of Q both affirm the abiding validity of the Jewish Law down to its last detail (Q 16,17) and also claim that it is essential that any would-be follower of his must ‘hate’ the other members of his/her immediate family, thereby challenging some of the fundamental precepts of the Law which are designed to impose obligations on loyal Jews to take care of other members of their families? The same tension arises from the uncompromising demand of Jesus for an immediate positive response to a would-be disciple to follow him and not to allow comes into the Q tradition at a relatively late stage of the development of Q (a ‘Q 3’ stage perhaps); but if one’s focus is on the ‘present’ form of Q (see n. 1 above) rather than on different strata within Q, such theories may be otiose. [The important new volume of essays in M. TIWALD (ed.), Kein Jota wird vergehen: Das Gesetzesverständnis der Logienquelle vor dem Hintergrund frühchristlicher Theologie, Stuttgart: Kohlhammer 2012, is explicitly focused on the theme of Q and the Law, but only appeared after this essay was already written and in press.] 7 There are well-known problems in determining whether the appeal made by Jesus (to an animal, or perhaps a human being, falling into a pit and being pulled out) would have been universally accepted as an instance where Sabbath Law could properly be broken. In relation to Q, there is the added difficulty of determining the precise Q wording: Matthew refers to a ‘sheep’, Luke to a ‘son or ox’; hence it is not clear whether Q referred to an animal or a human being. The issue is of some importance as, according to the extant evidence, it seems that rescuing a human being who had fallen into a pit on the Sabbath would have been regarded as more acceptable than rescuing an animal.

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him to make arrangements for the burial of his own father (Q 9,59-60). However, it must also be said that the tension within Q is at most an implicit tension: the Q tradition seems to display no awareness that such a tension might exist. The sayings about the family are not placed in a context of discussions about the Law or its validity; and if some of the sayings may implicitly challenge the validity of the Law, the Q tradition seems blissfully unaware of this (or else chooses not to notice).8 One of the difficulties in seeking to analyse the anti-familial sayings in Q is in part related to that of finding a clear context in which to interpret some of them. The sayings themselves occur within those parts of Q where it is sometimes not easy to identify clearly defined discourses or literary units. Thus, although the saying about the would-be disciple’s request to bury his father occurs (probably) at the start of the wider Q mission discourse,9 the other sayings are more difficult to pin down. The saying about internecine strife may be part of the sequel in Q to the apocalyptic sayings in Q 12,39-46; but the saying about hating one’s family (Q 14,26) is one of the miscellaneous sayings that appear in the last part of Luke’s Q material and where any clear, wider Q context is difficult to identify. It is clearly linked (in Q) to the cross saying in Luke 14,27 (the two sayings are linked in both Luke 14,26-27 and Matt 10,37-38); but beyond this, it is difficult to say more about a possible broader context within Q for the saying. Nevertheless, the clues provided by the immediate context of some of these sayings may provide some help in interpreting their status within Q, and in particular in determining whether Q positively welcomed and affirmed such an apparent anti-familial stance as a surface reading of these sayings might imply.

8

On the other hand, it may be that the alleged tension has been overplayed. See, e.g., the evidence assembled by S. C. BARTON, Discipleship and Family Ties in Mark and Matthew (Monograph Series, Society of New Testament Studies 80), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1994, pp. 23-56, for many examples from within Judaism (as well as in the non-Jewish Greco-Roman world) where the forsaking of families and family ties is regarded very positively as an expression of religious loyalty and commitment (at least within Judaism; for the non-Jewish examples, it is more in terms of being true to one’s own ‘philosophy’). Thus, for example, Barton points out that the example of Abraham in Gen 12, leaving his homeland and his people, is frequently presented as a positive paradigm. Barton’s examples from within Judaism include Philo, Josephus, and the Essenes, all of whom are clearly presuming without question the validity of the Jewish Law. 9 Assuming, as with most others, that the Lukan ordering is more likely to reflect the more original Q ordering, and hence also that the conjunction of Q sayings in Luke is more likely to reflect a similar conjunction in Q. Such ‘rules’ are however at best generalised assumptions and cannot be relied upon absolutely!

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1. Q 9,59-60 I start with the saying in Q 9,59-60.10 In general terms the Q saying is clear: Jesus is asked by someone11 to be allowed to go and bury his father, to which Jesus replies: ‘Let the dead bury the dead’. The saying has been much discussed, especially at the level of the historical Jesus (if the saying is to be traced back to Jesus himself).12 Yet, as already noted, there is no suggestion of any awareness in the tradition (be it Q, Matthew, or Luke) that this saying of Jesus creates tension in relation to the demands and expectations of the Jewish Law.13 At the level of Q, the saying is probably part of the small group of sayings which act as the introduction to the mission charge.14 Further, it seems clear that the saying about burying the dead is linked in Q with the saying in Q 9,58, asserting that, unlike foxes and birds, the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head: as such the two sayings form a unit focused on discipleship.15 Moreover, by virtue of their being placed as the introduction to the Q mission discourse, they function as illustrations and/or instruc10

As noted above (see n. 4), differences between Matthew and Luke in relation to the reconstruction of the original Q wording will not be considered here in any detail. On one of the more substantive points of difference, i.e., the issue of whether the explicit reference to preaching the kingdom in Luke 9,60b (not in Matt 8,22) was in Q or not, the likelihood is that it was not and this detail may well be LkR: so, e.g., ROBINSON/ H OFFMANN/KLOPPENBORG , Critical Edition (see n. 5), pp. 154-155; J ACOBSON, Jesus against the Family (see n. 2), p. 191; H. T. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (Biblical Tools and Studies 1), Leuven: Peeters 2005, p. 394. 11 It is unclear whether the person is a follower of Jesus or not: in Matthew he is, in Luke it is less clear. 12 See, e.g., the (now classic) study of M. H ENGEL, The Charismatic Leader and his Followers, ed. by J. Riches, trans. J. C. G. Greig, Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1981; also those noted in J ACOBSON, Divided Families (see n. 2), p. 362, and others since. 13 Cf. W. R. G. LOADER, Jesus’ Attitude Towards the Law: A Study of the Gospels (WUNT II, 97), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 1997, p. 190, in relation to Matthew. Perhaps the silence about any discussion of the implications of the saying in relation to Law is as surprising at the level of Matthew (or indeed Luke), as it is of Q. But see too n. 8 above for the way in which apparently ‘anti-familial’ language may have been at home amongst many Jews at this time without in any way thinking that this posed a challenge to the validity of the Law. 14 This is on the assumption that Luke is most likely to have preserved the Q ordering of materials: hence the fact that the Q sayings in Luke 9,57-60 pars. lead into the Q mission discourse of Q 10,1-11 has been widely taken as implying that the sayings function as the introduction to the mission discourse in Q as well as in Luke. In Matthew, the sayings of Q 9,57-60 appear in Matt 8,19-22, separated by some distance from the mission charge in Matt 10. 15 The two sayings are linked in Matthew and Luke, and hence presumably in Q as well.

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tions which are clearly thought to be relevant for the followers of Jesus in their (forthcoming) mission. Thus it is widely agreed that the saying about the homelessness of the Son of Man in Q 9,58 relates to the experience that is likely to be in store for Jesus’ followers in their missionary work: just as Jesus as the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head, so too the followers of Jesus will also have nowhere to lay their heads.16 At the surface level, the saying in Q 9,58 in its wider context has almost the form of a command: just as the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head, so too any would-be follower of Jesus must follow in the same pattern of life. However, it seems likely that the pattern of homelessness envisaged here does not result from (at least at one level) a voluntary decision, e.g., in the manner of Cynic disdain for the comforts of a home existence in some kind of ascetic renunciation. Rather, the homelessness is the result of hostility and rejection by others.17 The combination of assumed similarity and dissimilarity built into the saying of Q 9,58, presuming at one level some kind of similarity and parallelism between ‘foxes’ and ‘birds’ on the one hand and the ‘Son of Man’ on the other (in that they are deemed to be comparable), but also asserting difference (in that animals do have homes whereas the Son of Man does not), is perhaps best explained if the similarity is in terms of the hostility and rejection which others in society show to the beings in question: foxes, and perhaps birds, are animals which are regarded generally negatively, as creatures regarded by others with contempt and loathing.18 If so, then the figure of the Son of Man is also associated with such rejection by others, a motif which fits well with a number of other Son of Man sayings in Q.19 However, the figure of the Son of Man experiences even greater hostility and rejection than these animals (hence the element of dissimilarity and comparison in the saying). Thus Jesus’ homelessness, and hence a continuously itinerant

16 See TUCKETT, Q and the History (see n. 1), p. 183; also KLOPPENBORG, Formation (see n. 1), p. 192; J ACOBSON, Jesus against the Family (see n. 2), p. 191. Cf. too THEISSEN, First Followers (see n. 3), ch. 4 on the ‘role of the Son of Man’, and the ‘structural homologue’ (p. 27) between what is said of the Son of Man in the tradition and the experience and life of the wandering charismatics. 17 See in more detail TUCKETT, Q and the History (see n. 1), pp. 180-183; cf. also J ACOBSON, Jesus against the Family (see n. 2), p. 191; BARTON, Discipleship and Family Ties (see n. 8), p. 148, and others. 18 Cf. M. CASEY, The Jackals and the Son of Man (Matt. 8.20/Luke 9.58), JSNT 23 (1985), pp. 3-22, esp. pp. 8-9; also BARTON, Discipleship and Family Ties (see n. 8), p. 147. 19 Cf. Q 6,22; 7,34; 11,30; 12,10. See TUCKETT, Q and the History (see n. 1), pp. 253266, for more detailed discussion of these texts.

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lifestyle, are the result of hostility and rejection by others in society: they are not freely adopted ways of life.20 As already noted above, the positioning of this saying as the prelude to the mission discourse in Q suggests that what applies to the figure of the Son of Man functions as the paradigm and example for the followers of the Son of Man. Just as Jesus has nowhere to lay his head, so too the Q missionaries will experience rejection by their contemporaries and thus may be homeless (cf. Q 10,10-11). The saying seems to reflect then the experience of rejection and social alienation experienced by the followers of Jesus in their activity of proclaiming Jesus’ message. Moreover, the parallelism between Jesus and his followers suggests that the homelessness of the followers is no more a freely chosen life style than it is for Jesus himself: both are the result of hostility, alienation, and rejection. Such an experience could of course be interpreted highly negatively, as a result of failure. Part of the function of the saying in Q 9,58 may then be to provide an element of legitimation for the Jesus followers in claiming that the social realities which they are facing (and which Jesus faced) have already been anticipated in the teaching of Jesus; the resulting life-style which they are experiencing is thus nothing to worry about, at least in terms of possible anxiety about the success or failure of their activity: any apparent ‘failure’ had already been anticipated by Jesus and was indeed part and parcel of his teaching and instructions given to his followers. Thus the saying in Q 9,58 within Q may be not so much an implicit command by Jesus to do something that they would otherwise not do and/or that they should positively undertake voluntarily: it is rather a reflection of a situation which the readers/hearers are already experiencing; the saying then functions as a way of legitimating their present experience, giving it legitimacy and enabling it to be accepted (as foreseen and ordained by Jesus). If this is the situation in relation to Q 9,58, the same may be true of the saying in 9,60. On the surface, it is in the form of a command to Jesus to the person addressed to leave behind his family obligations and to leave everything, including his most pressing familial duties, to follow Jesus. The implication is that following Jesus will mean a potentially radical break with family ties. However, as with the saying in Q 9,58, the saying may be functioning slightly differently from the way which its surface grammar implies. Thus the saying may be reflecting already existing social situations, including social disruption to families and friendships, and may be then serving to legitimate this situation by framing a command by Jesus 20 One should perhaps distinguish itinerancy (which can be voluntary) and homelessness: if an itinerant way of life is met with friendship and welcome, the itinerant is not necessarily homeless as s/he is offered a home by someone else. Only if the itinerant is met with rejection is s/he homeless.

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to engender this situation. Thus the implication of the saying within Q may be not so much to inculcate and encourage such disruption: rather, the saying may be the result of an attempt to reflect on an already existing situation and to find legitimation for an otherwise troubling and disturbing state of affairs.21 The Q tradition may thus not necessarily be advocating a positive break with family ties; but it may be reflecting on a social situation where such ties have been ruptured, with the saying representing an attempt to ‘explain’ that situation as one which was foreseen by Jesus and allowed for in the form of a command by Jesus to this would-be follower who has a paradigmatic function in the developing ‘story’ of Q.

2. Q 12,51-53 The saying in Q 12,51-53 may be similar.22 The saying clearly echoes the words of Mic 7,6. This verse was used by a number of later writers in their assertions that the eschatological times would see the break-up of families with one member of extended families pitted against another.23 The Christian gospel tradition picked up on this tradition: not only does the present Q verse reflect this, but also Mark 13,12. As with the sayings in Q 9, the sayings here are in the form of claims of intentional action on the part of Jesus himself.24 Thus Jesus claims here that he is the one who has effectively ‘caused’ the divisions. However, it seems very unlikely that the saying bears no reflection on the present situation of the Q followers of Jesus. (If nothing else, the saying meshes well with the sayings in, e.g., Q 9,60; 14,26). Hence the divisions spoken about here are probably as much a matter of present reality for the readers/hearers of Q as of future expectation and hope/fear. 21 This is not to deny that the state of affairs may still remain disturbing and undesirable; but with the saying of Jesus, at least some attempt is being made to set the situation within positive terms. 22 I leave aside here the question of whether Luke 12,52 should be assigned to Q or not: most probably would omit it from Q (so, e.g., ROBINSON/HOFFMANN/K LOPPENBORG, Critical Edition [see n. 5], p. 382). With the verse, the allusion to Mic 7,6 is even clearer, but there is still a clear echo of the verse from Micah in 12,53. 23 See the full discussion in C. H EIL, Die Rezeption von Micha 7,6 LXX in Q und Lukas, ZNW 88 (1997), pp. 211-222, esp. pp. 212-214; also D. C. ALLISON J R., The Intertextual Jesus: Scripture in Q, Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International 2000, pp. 132134. Cf. Jub. 23,19; 1 En. 91,11-17; 3 Bar. 4,17; Sib.Or. 8,84f. 24 The ‘I have come’ in Matt 10,34.35 may be due to MattR (cf. Matt 5,17); but the same basic idea underlies the Lukan version as well in Luke 12,51: Jesus has come to produce division, not peace, with the resulting family divisions as manifestations of just that ‘division’.

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If this is the case, then it may be that, as with Q 9,60, the saying of Jesus here functions for Q as a way of legitimating their own experiences and situation. What might otherwise be experienced as failure and a catastrophic social breakdown of ‘normal’ relationships is now set in terms of a prediction of what is to come by Jesus himself, with a clear allusion to the words of scripture adding an implicit authority claim to the ‘prediction’: what is now happening is the result of what Jesus has said, and this is in line with expectations based on Jewish scripture of what might/will happen in a future time. The other uses of the Micah tradition to refer to the expectations associated with future eschatological times suggest that Q too interpreted the allusion in the same way.25 Thus, the unhappy experiences of the followers of Jesus in the present are given further legitimation by being placed in the context of more general Jewish eschatological expectations.

3. Q 14,26 A similar interpretation may apply in the case of the saying about ‘hating’ the other members of one’s family in Q 14,26. As noted earlier, it is not easy to assign this saying to the context of a broader literary unit within Q such as the Great Sermon or the Mission Discourse (as with Q 9,60). The sayings in (what appears to be) the last parts of Q seem to form a somewhat miscellaneous collection with no clearly identifiable literary structure within a larger unit. On the other hand, the family saying in Q 14,26 seems to be linked in Q to the saying about the necessity of taking up one’s cross in Q 14,27.26 If the saying about hating other family members is a ‘hard saying’, the cross saying poses equally difficult (if different) interpretative problems. The saying uses language that is clearly extreme in one way: talk about ‘carrying/taking a cross’27 would presumably have heavy overtones of meaning within a first century context. The punishment of crucifixion was all too well known in the Roman Empire, and its practice by the Romans made it a vividly public spectacle. Yet the very nature of crucifixion as a means of executing someone, as well as the circumstances in which crucifixion was exercised in the ancient world, make it all but impossible to take this saying as referring in any literal sense to real crucifixions. Cruci25 This is denied by, e.g., J ACOBSON, Divided Families (see n. 2), p. 366, but this seems implausible: cf. H EIL, Rezeption (see n. 23), p. 219. 26 See above: the sayings directly follow each other in both Matthew and Luke, and hence probably did so in Q. 27 It is uncertain whether Matthew’s ‘take’ or Luke’s ‘carry’ is closer to the Q wording.

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fixion was a Roman punishment, reserved primarily for political rebels. It is true that Jesus himself was crucified, but trying to explain how Jesus ended up on a Roman cross is extraordinarily difficult. Even more difficult is trying to envisage how followers of Jesus at the time of Q might have been exposed to the possibility of crucifixion. Nothing really elsewhere in Q suggests that threats from the Roman authorities against the followers of Jesus were ever on the horizon. And from other sources, we know of no instances of Christians being crucified in the early period of the Christian movement.28 In any case, all the other material in Q seems to envisage possible ‘opponents’ of the followers of Jesus as being other Jews from within the Jewish community; moreover, a close reading of Q texts which relate to possible ‘persecution’ faced by Jesus’ followers suggests that the nature of any ‘persecution’ was relatively low-key, consisting of possible namecalling, perhaps social ostracism, but not physical violence, let alone threats of judicial capital punishment by Romans.29 Further, the saying encourages the hearers to take up/carry their cross, but does not indicate that this would mean the end of physical life; the assumption seems to be that this is the essence of on-going existence as a follower of Jesus. Hence the verbal image of taking up, or carrying, one’s cross must be meant metaphorically. Quite what it is a metaphor for is, however, unclear and uncertain. The act of taking up and/or carrying a cross can be put in terms of a voluntary act at one level; but clearly at another, within the terms of the imagery, it must have a sense of an action that is imposed from outside by others, rather than being purely voluntary. The exhortation to ‘take up/carry’ the cross willingly must therefore mean that one should accept willingly the potentially terrible conditions being imposed on one from outside. In other words, this is again not a voluntary act which one undertakes totally freely: it is an action which is imposed from without, but 28

The later one dates Q, the more of a possibility this might become, e.g., in the light of the Neronian persecutions of Christians in Rome. But perhaps only a few would date Q as late as the mid-60s. A date just before the Jewish revolt in 66 is advocated by P. H OFFMANN, Tradition und Situation: Zur “Verbindlichkeit” des Gebots der Feindesliebe in der synoptischen Überlieferung und in der gegenwärtigen Friedensdiskussion, in: Idem, Tradition und Situation: Studien zur Jesusüberlieferung in der Logienquelle and den synoptischen Evangelien (NTA, N.F. 28), Münster: Aschendorff 1995, pp. 22-30, but he situates Q geographically in Palestine, not in Rome, and there is no evidence of crucifixions (at least of Christians) there. A very late date of 75 C.E. is proposed by F LEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 10), p. 159, but the evidence for this seems very general (an appeal to the ‘sophistication’ of Q’s response to the phenomenon of the delay of the Parousia) and not persuasive. Most others would probably date Q to some time prior to the 60s C.E. 29 Full discussion in TUCKETT, Q and the History (see n. 1), pp. 296-323.

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which the saying here encourages the hearer to welcome and accept. And indeed the presence of the saying may then give encouragement to the hearer to accept the terrible conditions involved as something that has been foreseen and anticipated, and hence in some sense under the control of the forces of good (God/Jesus or whoever), however much the empirical evidence in the current situation may indicate otherwise. As noted above, the precise reference in Q (if indeed there is one) for the metaphorical language is not clear. The saying is however clearly linked with the preceding saying in Q 14,26 (see above). There would then seem to be some link between ‘hating’ the other members of one’s family and the situation which is described with the metaphor of the cross. Most are agreed that the language of ‘hating’ refers not to emotional feelings but to the renunciation and break with the family which the hearers are called upon to make.30 Whether one can equate the two situations without remainder, so that ‘taking one’s cross’ is interpreted precisely as the break with the family of 14,26,31 may be doubtful: the two may be related, but the one is not necessarily completely subsumed in the other. Certainly the cross saying seems more extreme than a reference to renouncing one’s family; but the latter may still be included in the former. But if the two sayings are related, it may also be appropriate to interpret the general conditions implied in the two sayings also; hence what was said above about the cross saying – as a way of seeking to make sense of, to legitimate, unpleasant and unhappy conditions in the present – may also apply to the family saying too. Hence the family saying here would align with what has been said about the other family sayings in Q: the saying may be, in the actual situation of the Q followers of Jesus, not so much positively encouraging and/or ordering the hearers to do something that has not yet taken place; rather, the saying functions as a way of reflecting conditions that are already in place, and seeks to make some kind of ‘sense’ of them by having Jesus himself encourage the hearers to set up precisely this situation. Thus, rather than being necessarily anti-family in any ideological terms, the saying in Q may be seeking to come to terms with, and make sense of, a situation where family break-ups have happened. The existence of the Jesus movement has led to disruption at the level of the family; given the importance of the family in social terms at the time, such disruption must have been both shocking and disturbing for all those involved. The sayings in Q are then an attempt to come to terms with this shock and to seek to ‘explain’ it by claiming that such a situation was foreseen by Jesus, and (almost) ordained by him. 30

Cf. J ACOBSON, Divided Families (see n. 2), p. 304; Jesus against the Family (see n. 2), p. 194. 31 So, e.g., J ACOBSON, Jesus against the Family (see n. 2), pp. 194-195.

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4. Social Realities? I leave aside here the issue of whether other Q sayings may contribute to the general theme.32 Instead I consider very briefly what social realities might lie behind this stream within the Q tradition. Raising the issue of social realities lying behind gospels traditions is of course fraught with difficulty and uncertainty. We simply do not know for certain how far sayings in the gospels reflect an existing social situation, or whether they are intended to address a rather different social situation and challenge it with a view to changing it.33 Jacobson, following Stephen Patterson, suggests that the more ‘legal’ sayings, those that address directly the behaviour of the group, are more likely to reflect existing social conditions.34 In this respect, the family sayings discussed here might fit this well, and this would fit with the analysis so far, viz., that the sayings considered here function by way of social legitimation, to ‘explain’ and justify an already existing situation, rather than to change life-styles or patterns of family existence in a significant way. It may be, then, that the sayings reflect a situation where a significant level of family disruption has already occurred; moreover, the link made with sayings implying hostility, rejection and ‘suffering’ (cf. Q 9,58; 14,27) may suggest that this has been a painful process, for which the Q Christians are facing hostility and suspicion for the break-ups which have occurred. Further, there is nothing in Q which suggests a critique of family institutions as such, e.g., by way of negative remarks about procreation etc. Hence it seems unlikely that the Q followers of Jesus are engaging in some 32

E.g., in his two essays, Jacobson also discusses the sayings in Q 16,13 (one cannot serve God and Mammon), Q 16,18 (on divorce), Q 10,4 (missionaries adopting an itinerant lifestyle and hence leaving home), and Q 12,22-31 (on cares). Some of these are at best only indirectly related to the theme considered here: e.g., the divorce saying, which Jacobson argues (to my mind convincingly) is about remarriage rather than divorce, clearly presupposes a situation where normal marital (and hence family) relationships have broken down for whatever reason, but it is not clear why or how. (And presumably marriages come unstuck for a variety of reasons!) The Mammon saying in Q 16,13 is interpreted by Jacobson as a warning not against excessive hoarding of money, but against the normal everyday activity of trying to make a living, which in rural Palestine must have involved work within a family unit. But this seems at best a remote parallel to the theme considered here. 33 In one sense this is one of the classic problems encountered by form criticism. See C. M. TUCKETT, Form Criticism, in: W. H. Kelber/S. Byrskog (eds.), Jesus in Memory: Traditions in Oral and Scribal Perspectives, Waco, Tex.: Baylor University Press 2009, pp. 21-38, esp. p. 35. 34 JACOBSON, Jesus against the Family (see n. 2), pp. 189-190, referring to S. J. P ATTERSON, The Gospel of Thomas and Jesus (Foundations and Facets: Reference Series), Sonoma, Calif.: Polebridge Press 1993, ch. 5, esp. pp. 125-126.

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kind of ascetic, monastic-style solitary existence! Rather, they may be forming themselves into alternative social groups, perhaps even an alternative ‘family’, and this is partly the cause of the break-up with existing families. The Q family sayings may thus be as much about alternative social formation as about social disintegration.35 There is certainly some evidence elsewhere in Q that the followers of Jesus were forming themselves into a group, with some degree of group solidarity and ‘identity’ (at least at a relatively unsophisticated level). There is the language of the fictive family, with other members of the group being referred to as ‘brothers’ (cf. Q 6,41-42; 17,3), and some evidence too of tensions possibly arising within the group with relationships potentially slightly strained (6,4142 on identifying the ‘speck of dust’ in one’s ‘brother’s’ eye, 17,3-4 on forgiving one’s ‘brother’).36 But precisely how widespread or self-conscious this was is not certain.37 35

See J ACOBSON, Divided Families (see n. 2), p. 375; Jesus against the Family (see n. 2), p. 194. 36 JACOBSON, Divided Families (see n. 2), p. 375, appeals to other possible evidence, e.g., hints that the household was the focus of activity (Q 10,5-7; 7,6; 12,3; 12,42; 13,2526; 14,23), and/or that meals were important times of gathering (7,34; 10,7; 12,42; 13,29; 14,21-24), though it is hard to find clear evidence here that Q presupposes a different ‘household’ or form of ‘gathering’, separate from the rest of the wider community. He also refers, as further evidence of possible ‘fictive family formation’, the language of God as ‘Father’ (Q 11,2-3; 11,13; 12,22-31) and Q Christians as ‘sons’ of this ‘father’ (Q 6,35). But again this is not necessarily distinctive, especially within a Jewish context: language referring to God as ‘father’, and human beings as His ‘children’, could be taken as reasonably commonplace. 37 In a recent study of such sibling language, P. TREBILCO, Self-Designations and Group Identity in the New Testament, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2012, p. 41, appeals in part to the claims of Tom Wright that the saying in Q 9,60 already clearly presupposes the creation and existence of an alternative, ‘fictive’ family by Jesus himself for his followers: Cf. N. T. WRIGHT, The New Testament and the People of God, London: SPCK 1996, p. 401: ‘The only explanation for Jesus’ astonishing command [in Q 9,60] is that he envisaged loyalty to himself and his kingdom-movement as creating an alternative family’ (stress added by Trebilco in his citation of Wright). Trebilco then uses this to ‘establish’ that such ideas of a fictive family do go back to Jesus; and when he comes on (later!) to discuss the use of sibling language in ‘The Four Gospels’ he notes (though without comment) that while such language may be reflected in the Q passages noted here, it is ‘less obvious in Mark’ and also ‘the metaphorical sibling language is not found in John’ (p. 54). But whether the idea of a fictive family can be deduced quite so easily from Q 9,60 alone is perhaps doubtful; and the rather uneven spread of such language across the various gospel traditions might make one pause before tracing such ideas too quickly back to the historical Jesus. See too H. MOXNES, Putting Jesus in his Place: A Radical Vision of Household and Kingdom, Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press 2003, pp. 46-71, for a study of all the family sayings in the gospels, and noting that only some, mostly in Mark, seem to offer a ‘replacement’ for what is given up (in leaving one’s own family: cf., e.g., Mark 10,29-30).

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Certainly too the possibility that Q followers of Jesus were forming themselves into alternative social groups, or alternative ‘families’ which were separate from existing family ties, might also explain the sense of hostility and resentment that seems to be reflected throughout Q as the main ‘opposition’ in the social context in which Q Christians find themselves (and which is interpreted from the side of Q as ‘persecution’). It is very hard to find anything within Q, at the level of ideas, ideology or ‘theology’, that would have been regarded as offensive, or indeed particularly controversial, within contemporary Judaism.38 But what would have been much more offensive presumably might have been a tendency by some Christians to move out of existing social structures and form alternative groups. Especially within rural communities,39 based for economic survival on subsistence farming, the family as a social group and/or working network must have been vital to maintain the group as economically viable. Any movement which led to some members leaving their family group and joining other groups (perhaps with suggestions that they formed rival ‘families’) would inevitably threaten the economic welfare of those left behind: in times of general economic hardship when the vast majority of the population was living on the breadline and the difference between economic survival and starvation must have been a hair’s breadth, such moves could threaten the livelihood and lives of others and easily lead to bitterness and resentment. And this would surely be far more serious for the others concerned than, e.g., finer points of detail about tithing laws, Sabbath observance, or even claims about the nature of God, Jesus or whoever. But in all this, there is a classic ‘chicken-and-egg’ situation in that it is not clear which has come first: whether the followers of Jesus have positively rejected their families, or whether the families have rejected the Jesus followers.40 Perhaps different sides would have expressed things differently!41 38 The same applied more widely than Q! Judaism generally, especially at the time of the earliest stages of the Christian movement, was generally very tolerant of ideological/ ‘theological’ diversity. 39 The precise Sitz im Leben of the Q ‘community’ is of course hotly debated. For a strong argument in favour of placing such a community within (relatively) ‘rural’ Galilee, see J. S. K LOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q: The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press/Edinburgh: T & T Clark 2000. 40 For the latter, see N EYREY, Loss of Wealth (see n. 2): followers of Jesus had been rejected by their families and as a result were suffering lack of status (‘shame’) and desperate poverty with no means of livelihood (hence the references in the Q beatitudes to poverty). 41 The situation is perhaps similar to that of ‘deviance’ and/or ‘apostasy’; such terms are not determined absolutely but reflect the attitudes of others: what counts as apostasy with some might be acceptable to another. Hence here, followers of Jesus might believe that they had been rejected by their families; the families themselves might think that

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It is perhaps in such a situation that some of the family sayings in Q fit well. The followers of Jesus may have been forming themselves into social groups, separate from existing family groups, and this inevitably had consequences at the social and economic level for those who were not part of the new groups. They will have ‘lost’ people who may have provided the labour and daily work which was essential to maintaining food supplies for the rest of the ‘family’. From the side of the Q Christians, things no doubt looked very different: they were following their leader, obeying his teaching, even if this meant breaking with important parts of their social order. The resulting resentment and hostility they experienced from their fellows was interpreted by them as ‘persecution’, in line with the persecution suffered by God’s prophetic messengers in the past, and also suffered by Jesus himself, so that their life-style could be put in terms of ‘carrying a cross’, i.e., aligning themselves with the figure of Jesus in his suffering. And the sayings of Jesus which they preserved (or perhaps even created) served to provide legitimation for their social situation of suffering ostracism and hostility. It may be then that it is these family sayings which provide more insight into the social and historical situation of the Q ‘community’ than some of the more ‘theological’ discussions and debates which Q contains.

they have been deserted by the Jesus followers. For the general issue (though more in relation to Paul), see J. M. G. BARCLAY, Deviance and Apostasy: Some applications of deviance theory to first-century Judaism and Christianity, in: Esler (ed.), Modelling Early Christianity (see n. 2), pp. 114-127.

Children and Slaves: The Metaphors of Q InHee Park The child is father of the Man …1

Like one of William Wordsworth’s poems, human life is full of metaphors. From casual conversation to poetic expressions to conveying knowledge, metaphorical functions are significant.2 This universal phenomenon is also pertinent to the study of Q. Paying attention to the metaphors of Q permits new possibilities for a more fruitful interpretation of diverse aspects of Q that go beyond reconstructing its literal content. The following study is intended to present Q as a meaningful entity with essential metaphors which clarify its decisive traits beyond their literal meaning in regard to eschatological ethics and self understanding. In this respect, the terms “children” and “slaves” are significant. Both have been regarded as common metaphors for the self-understanding of believers in NT domains. They, however, have different functions in Q. The metaphor of children, a key metaphor in Q, manifests Q’s theological vision, while the metaphorical use of slave performs a role depicting the historical reality of the Q people. It is worth noticing as we study those metaphorical uses of Q that recent discussions of metaphor have emphasized the importance of the context of the metaphor as it essentially correlates with its interpretation.3 When metaphor functions as a fundamental expression of a way of knowing, as a re-

1

W. WORDSWORTH, My Heart Leaps Up, in: M. H. Abrams et al. (eds.), The Norton Anthology of English Literature, vol. 2: The Romantic Period: The Victorian Age: The Twentieth Century, 4th ed., New York, N.Y.: W. W. Norton & Company 1979, p. 211. 2 Cf. G. LAKOFF/M. J OHNSON, Metaphors we Live by, Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press 2003, pp. 3-6. P. WHEELWRIGHT, Metaphor and Reality, Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press 1973, pp. 32-44. 3 Cf. LAKOFF/J OHNSON, Metaphors we Live by (see n. 2), pp. 22-24; T. MCLAUGHLIN, Figurative Language, in: F. Lentricchia/T. McLaughlin (eds.), Critical Terms for Literary Study (Literary Criticism), Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press 1994, pp. 80-90; U. E CO, Metaphor, in: Idem, Semiotics and the Philosophy of Language, London: MacMillan Press 1984, pp. 87-129; J. J. STERN, Metaphor in Context (A Bradford Book), Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press 2000, pp. 1-75.

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flection on human culture, or as a reference to reality and self,4 it cannot simply be limited to the scope of the creativity of a genius or the poet’s appropriation.5 Rather, metaphorical operations are based more broadly on given cultural understandings; accordingly, the socio-historical context of the metaphor definitely influences its use and interpretation. When these insights are applied to the field of Q, a double consideration must be accorded the context of the metaphors because Q is a reconstructed document. Even before identifying its socio-historical context, Q must be placed within a textual context revealing a literary unity such as a basic structure or main themes in order to allow us to interpret its metaphors with consistency. Strikingly, in the content of Q,6 we find a certain level of literary unity which allows Q to be read as a unified text and more than a simple collection of sayings. In this way, the separate pericopae of

4

Cf. P. RICOEUR, Metaphor and the Central Problem of Hermeneutics, in: Idem, Hermeneutics and the Human Sciences: Essays on Language, Action and Interpretation, ed. and trans. J. B. Thompson, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1981, pp. 165181. 5 Poetic metaphors and language have been particularly emphasized in NT studies. See J. D. CROSSAN, In Parables: The Challenge of the Historical Jesus (Eagle Books), Sonoma, Calif.: Polebridge Press 1992, pp. 9-32; N. P ERRIN, Jesus and the Language of the Kingdom: Symbol and Metaphor in New Testament Interpretation, Philadelphia, Pa.: Fortress Press 1985, pp. 123-168. 6 For the content of Q, I mostly follow The Critical Edition of Q, cf. J. M. ROBINSON/ P. HOFFMANN/J. S. KLOPPENBORG (eds.), The Critical Edition of Q: A Synopsis Including the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, Mark and Thomas: With English, German and French Translations of Q and Thomas (Hermeneia Supplements), Leuven: Peeters/Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2000, cf. F. NEIRYNCK, The Reconstruction of Q and IQP/CritEd Parallels, in: A. Lindemann (ed.), The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus (BEThL 158), Leuven: Leuven University Press 2001, pp. 53-148; J. S. KLOPPENBORG V ERBIN, Excavating Q: The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press/Edinburgh: T & T Clark 2000, pp. 55-111; J. M. ROBINSON, The Critical Edition of Q and the Study of Jesus, in: Lindemann (ed.), The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus, pp. 28-36. However, I include Q 6,24-26 with the content of Q, which shows distinctive features of Q both in content and form, cf. J. S. KLOPPENBORG, Q Parallels: Synopsis, Critical Notes & Concordance, Sonoma, Calif.: Polebridge Press 1988, p. 26; IDEM, Q, the Earliest Gospel: An Introduction to the Original Stories and Sayings of Jesus, Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press 2008, pp. 46-47; D. R. CATCHPOLE, The Quest for Q, Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1993, pp. 79-94. I also include 6,27a, cf. F. NEIRYNCK, Recent Developments in the Study of Q, in: J. Delobel (ed.), Logia: Les Paroles de Jesus – The Sayings of Jesus: FS J. Coppens (BEThL 59), Leuven: Leuven University Press 1982, pp, 29-75, p. 65; H. T. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (Biblical Tools and Studies 1), Leuven: Peeters 2005, p. 99 n. 55.

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Q are related to each other;7 thus, the interpretation of metaphors in Q cannot be misconstrued as having vague and arbitrarily diverse implications, instead they are, at least to a certain extent, unified within the Q context and its contextual action.8 Consequently, this literary unity leads to an understanding of how Q engages with its historical context. The literary unity of Q is most clearly presented through the characteristics of the narrative, characteristics which provide obvious consistency and coherence to the entire text of Q.9 Hence, it can be recognized that Q presents a meaningful narrative world pertaining to specific theological beliefs and embraces a particular perspective. Although this narrative world does not consist of pure facts or actual events, it does reflect circumstances behind the narrative through revealing the major concerns of the Q people and the issues associated with the socio-political reality of first-century Galilee. This is performed by the essential element of narrative, namely, the plot. Thus, the context for interpreting the two metaphors of Q under consideration here is provided in two dimensions: the representative world of narrative Q and its historical background in reality. In this respect, the significant features of narrative Q must be considered in order to interpret its metaphors.

1. The Context of the Metaphors: Narrative Q and its Socio-Historical Context Among the essential elements10 for composing the narrative of Q, its plot and audience are important for its interpretations of the metaphors of chil7 For discussions on the literary unity of Q see, KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 6), pp. 66-67; A. D. J ACOBSON, The First Gospel: An Introduction to Q (Foundations & Facets: Reference Series), Sonoma, Calif.: Polebridge Press 1992, pp. 61-76. 8 Cf. RICOEUR, Metaphor and the Problems of Hermeneutics (see n. 4), pp. 165-181. 9 Cf. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 6), pp. 100-110; M. LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender: Die Logienquelle als erzählte Geschichte (Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 32), Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt 2010; ROBINSON, The Critical Edition of Q (see n. 6), pp. 28-36. 10 Q show narrative traits such as time and spatial particularities, audience, and plot. For further discussions on narrative, see, H. P. ABBOTT, The Cambridge Introduction to Narrative, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2002, pp. 12-24; M. RYAN, Toward a Definition of Narrative, in: D. Herman (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Narrative (Cambridge Companions to Literature), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2008, pp. 22-35; J. H. MILLER, Narrative, in: Lentricchia/McLaughlin (eds.), Critical Terms for Literary Study (see n. 3), pp. 66-79; G. G ENETTE, Narrative Discourse: An Essay in Method, trans. J. E. Lewin, Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press 1980, pp. 25-32; R. S CHOLES/J. P HELAN/R. KELLOGG, The Nature of Narrative, Oxford: Oxford University Press 2006, pp. 207-239; P. BROOKS, Reading for the Plot: Design and Intention in

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dren and slaves. Q presents a fundamental thematic storyline of waiting for “the Coming One.”11 This common storyline of a coming deliverer can be found within various religious myths and folklore tales and transcends any single historical context.12 This thematic storyline is developed through the conflict element of the plot,13 which distinguishes Q from other stories about waiting for a deliverer. The conflict structure appears in and sequentially connects each episode and event through the entire text of Q. From John the Baptist’s introduction (Q 3,7-9) in Q until the parable of entrusted money, the tense atmosphere is consistent.14 In particular, the doubt expressed by John the Baptist is a central event in Q and plays a decisive role in qualifying Q as a narrative. In addition, the hostility against the towns (Q 10,13-15), the recurring image of a confrontation with evil (Q 11,14-20, 11,24-26), 15 the harsh woes (Q 11,39-52), and the lamentation (Q 13,34-35) enforce the tension in the plot.

Narrative, New York, N.Y.: Knopf 1984, pp. 3-61; P. RICOEUR , Narrative Time, in: W. J. T. Mitchell (ed.), On Narrative, Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press 1981, pp. 165186, p. 167. 11 FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 6), pp. 130-143; LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (see n. 9), p. 26; Cf. J. M. ROBINSON, The Sequence of Q: The Lament of Jerusalem, in: Idem (J. Verheyden/C. Heil [eds.]), The Sayings Gospel Q: Collected Essays (BEThL 189), Leuven: Leuven University Press 2005, pp. 559-598, pp. 559-560; K LOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 6), pp. 6668. The Coming one is referred to only three times in Q (3,16; 7,19; 13,35); However, though this term is rather scarce in Q, “the Son of Man,” which presents Jesus as the Coming One (6,22; 7,34; 9,58; 11,30; 12,8.10) and is presented as the eschatological Coming One (12,40, 17,24.26.30), is widely recognized as having important eschatological implications in Q ever since the work of H. E. TÖDT, The Son of Man in the Synoptic Tradition, trans. D. M. Barton, London: SCM Press 1965, pp. 269-274. Cf. also C. M. TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity: Studies on Q, Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1996, pp. 239-282; J. SCHRÖTER , The Son of Man as Representative of God’s Kingdom: On the Interpretation of Jesus in Mark and Q, in: M. Labahn/A. Schmidt (eds.), Jesus, Mark and Q: The Teaching of Jesus and its Earliest Records (JSNT.S 214), Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press 2001, pp. 34-69; NEIRYNCK, Recent Developments in the Study of Q (see n. 6), pp. 69-72. 12 In Buddhism the title Yeo-Rae ( ; in Sanscrit, tathagata) is one of the names of Buddha, which means the coming one, or the one having truth for delivering his people. 13 Conflict is the most typical component in creating a narrative. 14 The entire text of Q describes conflict; harsh admonition(3,7-9), the confrontation (4,1-13), contradiction of blessings and curses (6,20-26), the example of faith (7,1-10) and doubt, the conflicted decisions for acceptance (10,5-9.16.21-24; 11,9-13; 12,8) or refusal (10,10-15; 11,14-20; 11,23.29-32.39-52; 12,9; 13,24-27.34-35), thematic descriptions of tension (14,26-27.34-35, 16,13.16.18; 17,1-2.33.34-35; 19,12-26). 15 Cf. R. A. P IPER, Jesus and the Conflict of Powers in Q: Two Miracle Stories, in: Lindemann (ed.), The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus (see n. 7), pp. 328-340.

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An interesting feature of the conflicts, however, is that they do not arise predominantly as the result of events within the narrative; rather, they have existed among the people beforehand. The tensions had already started before John the Baptist began sharply to attack the opponents of Q. Q evidently demonstrates hostility against a group of people designated as “Pharisees, exegetes and this generation.” For this Q employs the eschatological prophetic traditions such as woes, a lamentation and eschatological warnings (Q 6,23; 11,39-52; 13,34-35; 17,23-24.26-30), and images of confrontation with evil (Q 4,1-10; 11,14-20, 11,24-26). By contrast, Q consistently advocates for the audience, designating them with special titles such as heirs of the kingdom (Q 6,20), children of God (Q 11,2), and workers for the kingdom of God (Q 10,2). This occurs as part of the deepening of the plot. One of the most significant features of this deepening plot is that it pertains to the historical background of Q. The villages of first century Galilee, likely the locus of Q,16 were severely exploited by three layers of an oppressive tax system imposed by its rulers.17 Q discloses this perilous situation with repeated images of debt (Q 6,34; 11,4), of poverty (Q 9,58), of trials (Q 12,58-59), and of accusations against the Pharisees, exegetes (Q 11,39-51), and the leadership in Jerusalem (Q 13,34-35). Most of the intense conflicts of Q converge in criticism of the actual privileged leadership and retainer ideologues (Q 11,42)18 by using eschatological traditions. Considering that the socio-historical implications of eschatological and apocalyptic thought functioned among the oppressed to criticize oppressive upper classes throughout Israel’s history,19 one can see that the eschatological traditions such as woes (Q 11,39-52), a lamentation (Q 13,34-35), 16 For the specific associations with Q and Galilee, see “Reading Q in the Galilee” in K LOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 6), pp. 214-261; W. E. ARNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes: Galilean Conflicts and the Setting of Q, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2001, pp. 97-155; J. L. REED, The Social Map of Q, in: J. S. Kloppenborg (ed.), Conflict and Invention: Literary, Rhetorical and Social Studies on the Sayings Gospel Q, Valley Forge, Pa.: Trinity Press International 1995, pp. 17-36. 17 Cf. KLOPPENBORG, Q, the Earliest Gospel (see n. 6), pp. 89-93; R. A. HORSLEY, The Historical Context of Q, in: Idem/J. Draper, Whoever Hears You Hears Me: Prophets, Performance, and Tradition of Q, Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International 1999, pp. 46-60, p. 53; D. E. OAKMAN, Jesus and the Peasants, Eugene, Oregon: Cascade Books 2008, pp. 33-39. 18 Cf. HORSLEY/DRAPER, Whoever Hears You Hears Me (see n. 17), pp. 286-288; A. J. SALDARINI, Pharisees, Scribes and Sadducees in Palestinian Society: A Sociological Approach (The Biblical Resource Series), Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 1988, pp. 291297. 19 Cf. HORSLEY/DRAPER, Whoever Hears You Hears Me (see n. 17), pp. 112-113; J. J. COLLINS, The Apocalyptic Imagination: An Introduction to the Jewish Matrix of Christianity, New York, N.Y.: Crossroad 1984, pp. 205-215.

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and the thematic storyline of a deliverer in Q can be interpreted as both a warning and form of resistance against the leadership in Palestine. This conflict trait of the plot reveals the intentions and faith20 of the narrators of Q and also reflects the historical background of Q. Q verifies this by confirming the authority of the actual historical figure, John the Baptist. Thus, the conflict structure of Q cannot be regarded as a rhetorical device intended merely to divide the insider and outsider of Q in terms of the mission of Q. Instead, it is a series of expressions concerning the social resistance of the oppressed and demonstrates their efforts to see the world in quite a different way than did their oppressors. At the same time, the deepening plot of Q intends to establish strong bonds with the audience. Q places the audience at the center of the narrative. Although Jesus appears as the main speaker, one of his primary roles is to focus the spotlight on the audience. Even though the audience is designated mainly by the pronoun ὑµεῖς/ὑµῖν it is not merely a literary conceptual device;21 rather, it presents a special link with the actual audience of Q. The majority of the text of Q is a form of direct dialogue and speeches given in the second person, which means that the audience appears as the counterpart of Jesus, the speaker.22 In addition, the audience persistently appears in consistent and obvious images which depict a relationship with God; poor but strongly supported by their father, designated as heirs of the kingdom (Q 6,20ff.), and promised to be the final judge of Israel (Q 22,28.30). Thus, the essential importance of the audience is equal to the importance of the Son of Man in Q. Q portrays the audience as ordinary peasants in first century Galilee through images of poverty (Q 6,20ff.) within an agricultural environment (Q 3,17; 6,38.43.44; 10,2.7; 11,33; 12,6-7.24-28; 13,19-21),23 while, at the same time, it presents them as heirs of kingdom of God. Even Jesus is portrayed as one of them, since Q links the title “Son of Man” with the 20

Cf. M. A. K. H ALLIDAY, Language as Social Semiotic: The Social Interpretation of Language and Meaning, London: Edward Arnold 1978, pp. 31-35; J. H. KAVANAGH, Ideology, in: Lentricchia/McLaughlin (eds.), Critical Terms for Literary Study (see n. 3), pp. 306-320. 21 For further discussions of audience, cf. W. ISER , The Act of Reading: A Theory of Aesthetic Response, Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press 1980, pp. 27-38. 22 The opponents also are called ὑµεῖς; however, they are regarded as a kind of rhetorical device and do not actually perform a narratival audience role given the context of the oral performance of Q. 23 The most appropriate character for the actual narrators of Q is ἐργάτης (10,2-12), see D. ZELLER , Redactional Processes and Changing Settings in the Q-Material, trans. J. S. Kloppenborg in: J. S. Kloppenborg (ed.), The Shape of Q: Signal Essays on the Sayings Gospel, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 1994, pp. 116-126; H ORSLEY/ D RAPER, Whoever Hears You Hears Me (see n. 17), p. 243.

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predicament of the poor (Q 9,58). Thus, the social locus of Q has actual connections with the poor farmers in the villages of Galilee.24 Although Q demonstrates scribal techniques (Q 16,17), those traits do not provide sufficient evidence to contend that Q represents the ethos of scribes and not of Galilean peasants. As Anthony J. Saldarini indicates, In all cases, however, the scribes must be contextualized among other social groups and their power and influence integrated into the whole picture of Jewish society. They must not be treated as an autonomous group with its own power and continuous agenda. Scribes were varied in background and allegiance and were individuals filling a social role in different contexts rather than a unified political and religious force.25

Even though Q demonstrates the obvious scribal features found in citations of the OT26 and in the prophetic27 and wisdom formulas,28 they can be regarded as a result of later participation of individuals from the various stances of scribal backgrounds. In the stages of writing Q, individual scribes could accept and ally themselves with the ethos of Q. The orally derived narrative Q may well have been enriched and elaborated as a result of their influence. The plausibility of such an elaboration is undergirded by the existence of scribes who resisted the Hasmonians’ corruptions by accepting the ethics of the lower-class poor in their apocalyptic compositions.29 These resistant scribes can be recognized, for example, in the 24

Since πτωχοί had been used in the LXX as the general translation for the various denotations of the poor in Hebrew, which implies pervasive poverty among Israelites, it can be interpreted as ordinary Galilean peasants in Q. Cf. J. D. P LEINS, “Poor, Poverty”, in: D. N. Freedman (ed.), The Anchor Bible Dictionary 5, New York, N.Y.: Doubleday 1992, pp. 402-414; I. H. MARSHALL, The Gospel of Luke: A Commentary on the Greek Text (NIGTC 3), Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 1978, p. 249. 25 SALDARINI, Pharisees, Scribes and Sadducees in Palestinian Society (see n. 18), p. 276. 26 Cf. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 6), pp. 97-100; For the special link between Isa 61 and Q, see, TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity (see n. 11), pp. 221-226. 27 It is not possible to divide the diverse literary forms of Q into simply prophetic or wisdom traditions. See, D. C. A LLISON J R., The Jesus Tradition in Q, Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International 1997, pp. 3-7. However, certain forms show the respective traits of these traditions. For details about these traditions, see J ACOBSON, The First Gospel (see n. 7), pp. 61-64; CATCHPOLE, The Quest for Q (see n. 7), pp. 87-94; M. S ATO, Q und Prophetie: Studien zur Gattungs- und Traditionsgeschichte der Quelle Q (WUNT II, 29), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 1988, pp. 230-231. 28 Cf. J. S. KLOPPENBORG, The Formation of Q: Trajectories in Ancient Wisdom, Philadelphia, Pa.: Fortress Press 1987, pp. 171-245; R. A. P IPER, Wisdom in the QTradition: The Aphoristic Teaching of Jesus (MSSNTS 61), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1989. 29 Cf. R. ALBERTZ, A History of Israelite Religion in the Old Testament Period, vol. 2: From the Exile to the Maccabees, trans. John Bowden, Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press 1994, pp. 595-597.

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woes against the wealthy and powerful who exploited the poor in the Epistle of Enoch (1 En. 92-105).30 It can be stated with confidence that Q retains the traits of the plot that accord with the ethos of the original formers in its oral stage.31 This is because plot is not only essential for forming the basic structure of a narrative but also because the orientation of a plot, or the aim of a plot cannot be changed or easily amended by an incompatible ethos, especially in the ancient world where oral performance co-existed with written text. This is also demonstrated through the oral qualities of Q.32 Hence these narrative traits must be considered as a context for the interpretation of the metaphors of Q – the children and the slave – which also enforce these narrative traits of Q.

2. Metaphorical functions of Q 2.1. Slaves in Q Perceiving Q as narrative allows the interpretation of the role of slaves in Q33 to offer insight into and an understanding of the historical background of Q. The slave metaphor in the parable of the “Unfaithful Slave” (Q 12,42-46) and “Entrusted Money” (Q 19,12-26) is employed in a distinct manner in Q; however, other usages (Q 14,16-23; 16,13) involve more general concepts of the Israelite tradition rather than any distinctiveness of Q. 30 For further discussions on this issue, see R. A. HORSLEY, Scribes, Visionaries, and the Politics of Second Temple Judea, Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press 2007, pp. 166-172. 31 Cf. S. B. CHATMAN, Story and Discourse: Narrative Structure in Fiction and Film, Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press 1978, pp. 19-21. 32 Cf. W. K ELBER, The Verbal Art in Q and Thomas: A Question of Epistemology, in: R. A. Horsley (ed.), Oral Performance, Popular Tradition, and Hidden Transcript in Q (Semeia Studies 60), Atlanta, Ga.: Society of Biblical Literature 2006, pp. 25-42; J. D. G. D UNN, Q as Oral Tradition, in: M. Bockmuehl/D. A. Hagner (eds.), The Written Gospel, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2005, pp. 45-69; J. M. FOLEY, The Riddle of Q: Oral Ancestor, Textual Precedent, or Ideological Creation? in: Horsley (ed.), Oral Performance, Popular Tradition, and Hidden Transcript in Q, pp. 123-140. For more details about Aramaic traits see M. CASEY, An Aramaic Approach to Q: Sources for the Gospels of Matthew and Luke (MSSNTS 122), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2002, pp. 51-63. For a different opinion on this point, see, TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity (see n. 11), pp. 83-92. 33 According to R. Zimmermann, slave characters in different Q parables can be connected and gain a stronger profile in this connection, cf. R. ZIMMERMANN, Character Analysis in Q Parables, paper given at the Society of Biblical Literature annual meeting, San Francisco, Ca., 20th November 2011, p. 5.

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Slave labor was not rare in the time of Q.34 Like any other ancient neareastern society, slavery had a widespread influence upon the social structure in Israel for most of its history; however, we find no historical evidence of the positive use of slave labor for the foundation of its national economy.35 Also, Israelite law was mild toward slaves and prohibited maltreatment by their masters (Deut 23,15-16; Exod 21,20.26-27).36 A distinctive aspect of this Israelite tradition related to the study of Q is the high regard for the role of slave as used in metaphoric language. The usual term for slave in Hebrew is ‫עבד‬, which is translated in the LXX as δοῦλος (παῖς), is used as a sign of servility to kings or masters, as was common in many ancient societies.37 However, Israelites particularly referred to the patriarchs and kings as “slaves” (Exod 32,13; 1 Sam 3,9; 2 Chr 6,15.19, etc.) in the phrase “slaves of God,” as they also did for prophets and priests. “Slave” implies an honorable title for the leadership of the Israelite. Also, there are actual slaves who were mentioned as examples for their masters to follow in Israelite tradition, such as the slaves of Naaman (2 Kgs 5,2-3.13) the faithful slave of Abraham (Gen 24), and Joseph while enslaved in Egypt (Gen 39,1-37). These positive role models correspond to the fact that the Israelites regularly reminded themselves that they were descendants of the slaves in Egypt. Thus, the term “slave” is used as a historical metaphor; it references the common attitude of the general Israelite population toward God, while, at the same time, it also has a particular use in conveying an honorable title for the leadership of Israel. In this respect, the slave in the Parable of the Great Feast (Q 14,16-23) shows the relevant case of the slave as an honorable title because the slave performs the role of messenger from God in an eschatological context. Furthermore, the mention of serving God in 16,13 is applicable to the general concept of Israelite as a slave of God. In contrast to this depiction, Greco-Roman society never used slaves as role models. The social position of slaves was regarded as a status to be despised and feared,38 even though slave labor had established the founda34

For the date of Q, see, TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity (see n. 11), p. 102; ROBINSON/HOFFMANN/K LOPPENBORG (eds.), Critical Edition of Q (see n. 6), p. lv; ROBINSON, The Critical Edition of Q (see n. 6), p. 38; K LOPPENBORG V ERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 6), p. 87; ALLISON, The Jesus Tradition in Q (see n. 27), pp. 49-54. 35 Cf. M. DANDAMAYEV, Slavery (OT), in: Freedman (ed.), The Anchor Bible Dictionary 6 (see n. 24), pp. 62-65; D. A. FIENSY, The Social History of Palestine in the Herodian Period (SBEC 20), Lewiston, N.Y.: The Edwin Mellen Press 1991, pp. 90-92. 36 Cf. Deut 15,12-18; Lev 25,39. 37 Cf. DANDAMAYEV, “Slavery (OT)” (see n. 35), pp. 62-65. 38 The Roman proverb “all slaves are enemies” expresses these attitudes well. Cf. K. H OPKINS, Novel Evidence for Roman Slavery, in: R. Osborne (ed.), Studies in Ancient Greek and Roman Society, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2004, pp. 206-225.

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tion of their national economic system39 and many of the slaves acquired fine and admirable skills and knowledge. Slaves were regarded as no more than property to their masters and generally were ruled by corporal punishment.40 Although some outstanding exceptions exist, the bulk of the historical evidence shows efforts to justify the slave system by claiming that slaves were inferior to their masters.41 Galilee had been repeatedly subordinated by Greco-Romans since the Hellenistic period. Roman convictions, however, could not exert total control over all the traditional agrarian society of Galilee in the time of Q, including those regarding slavery. The fact that the production of its agricultural yield came primarily by the hand of small landholders or tenants and not by slave labor42 supports the argument that this traditional way of life was still maintained in Galilee. This is obviously supported by the metaphorical use of the slave in the parables of Q. In particular, the parable of the “Unfaithful Slave” (Q 12,42-46) demonstrates significant connections with Israelite tradition as well as Q’s emphasis on criticism of those who neglect the responsibilities of the role of the “slave of God.” 2.1.1. The Unfaithful Slave (Q 12,42-46) The parable of the “Unfaithful Slave” contains a combination of blessing and curse. This is a frequent and typical form within Jewish tradition.43 However, the focus of this parable is not on the blessing but on the curse, because the question formula of the blessing itself casts doubt upon the blessing. This parable highlights the harsh punishment of an unfaithful slave who profligately neglected his duty. It ultimately evokes images of

39

Cf. M. I. FINLEY, The Ancient Economy: Updated with a New Foreword by Ian Morris (Sather Classical Lectures), updated ed., Berkeley, Calif.: University of California Press 1999, pp. 62-94. 40 According to Richard Saller, “… one of the primary distinctions between the condition of a free man and a slave in the Roman mind was the vulnerability of the latter to corporal punishment,” R. SALLER, Corporal Punishment, Authority, and Obedience in Roman Household, in: B. Rawson (ed.), Marriage, Divorce and Children in Ancient Rome, Oxford: Clarendon Press 1991, pp. 144-165, pp. 152-153. 41 In the Hippocratic Oath and Aristotle’s own words in his Politics, they were opposed to discrimination against slaves or regard for the slavery system as a natural condition. Even Seneca claimed that the souls of slaves are free; yet, they never advocated for the abolition of slavery. Cf. Z. Y AVETZ, Slaves and Slavery in Ancient Rome, New Brunswick, N.J.: Transaction Publishers 1988, pp. 115-118. 42 Cf. FIENSY, The Social History of Palestine in the Herodian Period (see n. 35), pp. 75-105; R. A. HORSLEY, Galilee: History, Politics, People, Valley Forge, Pa.: Trinity Press International 1995, pp. 207-209. 43 Cf. CATCHPOLE, The Quest for Q (see n. 6), pp. 87-88 n. 30.

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the final judgment.44 The mention of the Son of Man (Q 12,40) before the parable, and the hugely outrageous images of brutal punishment (cut into pieces) at the end of the parable, echoes the proclamation of John the Baptist at the beginning of Q. Those eschatological images of fury express the importance of the duty that the slave was expected to perform, which was to feed the whole household. Bernard B. Scott interprets this parable in terms of the patron/client relationship, and explains the duty of the slave along the lines of the job of a steward.45 However, the general patron/client system of the ancient Mediterranean world cannot adequately explain the particular situation of villagers in first century Galilee. According to Galilean studies,46 most Galilean villagers were small landholders or tenant farmers. The general size of the farming plot for a common peasant’s household was barely large enough to provide a livelihood for a family of about 6-9 members.47 There were also large estates near Galilean villages;48 however, they were owned by a small number of city resident elites, which caused hostility with rural dwellers in the countryside.49 Thus, this position of a slave as a steward was not familiar to ordinary Galileans in individual households. Rather, reference to the whole household (12,42) implies the population of the nation as a whole. In this regard, it is striking that the expression of “feeding at the proper time”50 parallels that of LXX Ps 103,27 (τὴν τροφὴν αὐτοῖς εὔκαιρον),51 which refers to the caring action of Yahweh.52 Even though that elaborated 44

Generally, the delay of the return of the master is mentioned as part of the eschatological images in this parable; however, an emphasis on theological parousia can blur the social ethics aspects of eschatology. Also, this parable can be regarded as focusing on the absence of the master not the delay of the parousia, see, A. J. H ULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus: A Commentary (The Bible in its World), Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 2002, p. 160. 45 Cf. B. B. SCOTT, Hear then the Parable: A Commentary on the Parables of Jesus, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 1989, pp. 208-212. 46 For recent studies of Galilee, see R. A. H ORSLEY, Archaeology, History, and Society in Galilee: The Social Context of Jesus and the Rabbis, Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International 1996; FIENSY, The Social History of Palestine in the Herodian Period (see n. 36); OAKMAN, Jesus and the Peasants (see n. 17); K LOPPENBORG V ERBIN, Reading Q in the Galilee, in: IDEM, Excavating Q (see n. 6), pp. 214-261; ARNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes (see n. 16). 47 Cf. FIENSY, The Social History of Palestine in the Herodian Period (see n. 35), pp. 93-95. 48 Cf. FIENSY, The Social History of Palestine in the Herodian Period (see n. 35), pp. 55-57. 49 Cf. KLOPPENBORG VERBIN , Excavating Q (see n. 6), p. 235. 50 In Luke12,42: ἐν καιρῷ τὸ σιτοµέτριον, in Matt 24,45: τὴν τροφὴν ἐν καιρῷ. 51 Cf. ROBINSON/HOFFMANN/K LOPPENBORG (eds.), The Critical Edition of Q (see n. 6), p. 366. 52 Cf. HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 44), p. 161.

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expression resulted from later editors, it did not deviate from the original intention of this parable. Since Q shows distinctive preference for expressions signifying God as a father with the imagery of feeding his children (Q 11,11-13; 12,30), the matter of feeding the hungry is major issue for Q.53 Furthermore, the kingdom of God is presented with clear imagery of feeding the hungry (Q 6,21). The slave in this parable signifies certain figures who should care for the people in the stead of Yahweh, which was proper for a person who had the honorable title of “the slave of God” and who was involved in the care of the national household. Considering the traits of narrative Q, whose eschatological criticisms mostly pertained to criticism of the unjust upper class, this parable can also be interpreted as a warning to and resistance against the leaders who were charged with caring for the national household. Taking into account the extremely unfair socio-political system that exploited first century Galileans, the political leadership of Israel had already neglected their duty of taking care of their people. Even worse, leaders exploited their fellow Israelites (σύνδουλος) just like the slave in the parable. The image of fury in this parable may reflect the negative feelings against the injustices of those who ruled. This parable, as well as the term slave, is a metaphor criticizing the ruling groups, ultimately seeking to correct Jerusalem authorities54 and their representatives by appealing for them to be faithful as “slaves of God.” 2.1.2. The Parable of Entrusted Money (Q 19,12-26) The parable of the Entrusted Money is also related to behavior which Q condemns; however, it is far more amusing than the severity of the parable of the Unfaithful Slave. Though the degree of verbatim agreement of this parable is not high, the major elements, however, can be observed in both Matthew and Luke55 (i.e., considerable amounts of money, a hardhearted master, and slaves entrusted with money). Without the broader narrative context this parable can easily be regarded as referring to eschatological exhortations,56 or as a metaphor signifying the responsibility for the Isra53

23).

It is also related to the important image of hunger and food in Q (4,2; 6,21; 12,22-

54 The conclusion of the kingdom discourse in 6,45-49 (the parable of builders) reflects the ethos of anti-temple leadership. In addition, the lamentation for Jerusalem corresponds with the conclusion of this parable. 55 For discussion of the reconstruction of this parable, see, C. HEIL, Lukas und Q: Studien zur lukanischen Redaktion des Spruchevangeliums Q (BZNW 111), Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 2003, pp. 197-204; Cf. HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 44), p. 273. 56 Cf. K. R. SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent: A Comprehensive Guide to the Parables of Jesus, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 2008, pp. 519-541.

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elite concerning Torah,57or warning against hesitation in following the Lord’s command.58 However, considering the fact that metaphor is essentially dependent upon its history and culture,59 this parable can hardly be interpreted in immediate association with any of the Israelite traditions or the Q people. Rather, the following conditions show that the slave and master characters of this parable contradict Israelite tradition and the agrarian culture of the Galileans. Firstly, pursuing financial profits could hardly have had any relevant meaning in the agrarian tradition of Galilee. Since ancient farmers worked for their daily subsistence within the family and not for profit, 60 the ancient agrarian society was essentially self-sufficient and reciprocal.61 Money was primarily used for redistribution of wealth for the ruling elite, paying taxes, rents and debts, or generating interest,62 it was not used in the everyday life of Galileans. Monetization principally functioned for the ruling elites who lived in parasitic cities near peasant villages.63 Also, the considerable amounts of money given to the slaves in this parable are unrealistic for a Galilean peasant. Luke’s mina is far less than one talent,64 and yet was still a large amount for villagers who may have been familiar with the less valuable copper coins65 used for paying loans or taxes. This parable is more appropriately used to observe the Greco-Roman influence in cities. The monetary system functioned far more diversely and significantly in urban life. The major cities of Galilee, Sepphoris, and Tiberias were regarded as hubs to draw the tax and surpluses from rural areas. For those living in the residences of the absent landlords, or for the aristocracy who exhibited Hellenistic influences,66 money was unquestionably regarded with positive meaning. 57

Cf. SCOTT, Hear then the Parable (see n. 45), pp. 217-235. Cf. HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 44), pp. 280, 290. 59 Cf. LAKOFF/J OHNSON, Metaphors we Live by (see n. 2), pp. 22-24; E CO, Metaphor (see n. 4), p. 127. 60 Cf. FIENSY, The Social History of Palestine in the Herodian Period (see n. 35), p. vii. 61 Cf. R. A. HORSLEY, Moral Economy and Renewal Movement in Q, in: Idem (ed.), Oral Performance (see n. 32), pp. 143-157. E. W. STEGEMANN/W. STEGEMANN, The Jesus Movement: A Social History of its First Century, trans. O. C. Dean, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 1999, pp. 17-18. 62 Cf. OAKMAN, Jesus and Peasants (see n. 18), pp. 137-141. 63 Cf. KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 6), pp. 240-241; ARNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes (see n. 16), p. 138. 64 For more details on the issue of prioritizing the Lukan version for Q, see H EIL, Lukas und Q (see n. 55), pp. 199-200. 65 For local currency during Antipas’ rule, see ARNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes (see n. 16), pp. 136-138. 66 Cf. KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 6), pp. 234-245. 58

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Secondly, the significant role of the slave demonstrates an association with Hellenistic influences and not with Israelite tradition. Since the entire economy of the Greco-Roman world was greatly dependent upon the system of slavery, the roles within slave labor varied significantly and included everything from mine labor to the skilled public work of secretarial service.67 Some slaves conducted business in the stead of masters under a type of Peculium system.68 These depictions of slaves were totally different from the farming work of the villages. Although no direct evidence is known that introduced those Roman practices to Palestine cities, it is sufficient to consider that in cities there were slaves who handled the business of making a profit. According to William E. Arnal, apart from paying taxes or rents, an instance of using money in an agrarian society like Galilee was seen in buying land.69 Due to a cruel tax system, debts, and rents, as well as poor harvests, many small landholders could not help but lose their land which was held as collateral as can be seen in prozbul.70Also, the acceleration of monetization in Tiberias in the time of Antipas supports the fact of the deprivation of peasants to the benefit of wealthy landowners in cities.71 Then, the master’s reference to the “money changers” (Q 19,23) could refer to the royal bank in Tiberias72 and also his phrase “earn interests” imply the villager’s deprivation of land in Galilee. From this inference, it is possible to imagine the first two slaves in the parable participated in this cruel process for earning money.73 Moreover, the cruel images of the master which cannot be interpreted as a reference to God prevents the identification of the slaves with Q people. The master is described as “hardhearted” which is clearly a negative term. The expression of σκληρός is used for describing cruel foreign kings (Isa 19,4), stubborn Israelites standing against God’s will (Isa 48,4), and de67

Cf. FINLEY, The Ancient Economy (see n. 39), pp. 62-94. Cf. FINLEY, The Ancient Economy (see n. 39), pp. 64-65. 69 Cf. ARNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes (see n. 17), p. 139. See also, S TEGEMANN/STEGEMANN, The Jesus Movement (see n. 61), p. 18. 70 For the details of prozbul, see, O AKMAN, Jesus and Peasants (see n. 17), pp. 17-18; K LOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 6), p. 241; ARNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes (see n. 16), pp. 140-141. 71 Cf. HORSLEY, Galilee: History, Politics, People (see n. 42), pp. 218-220; A RNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes (see n. 17), pp. 138, 136-146. Morten Hørning Jensen presents a different opinion, arguing that this phenomenon is only due to a political reason, namely the minting of coins for the commemoration of the foundation of the city; however, his claim cannot offer proper explanations for the economic crisis of the Galileans. Cf. M. H. JENSEN, Herod Antipas in Galilee: The Literary and Archaeological Sources on the Reign of Herod Antipas and its Socio-Economic Impact on Galilee (WUNT II, 215), 2nd rev. ed., Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2010, p. 215 72 Cf. HORSLEY, Galilee: History, Politics, People (see n. 42), pp. 218-219. 73 Cf. ARNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes (see n. 16), pp. 139-140. 68

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fines a rigid financier in Greek.74 Moreover, “hardhearted” (σκληροκαρδία) is one of the typical expressions used in response to the disobedience of an Israelite (Deut 10,16; Jer 4,4; Matt 19,8; Mark 10,5). At the same time, the master is described as the one who harvests without sowing, which certainly was immoral in agrarian society, plus, such behavior contradicted the discourse concerning the kingdom of God (Q 6,30.34-36.43-45). Furthermore, his command to earn interest (Q 19,23) was regarded as abominable behavior among Israelites.75 They would not possibly have attributed this hostile activity to God regardless of their social position. Rather, the master of this parable represented a typical figure among the ruling groups in cities of “this generation.” He took from the poor and gave it to the rich. It is clear that the purpose of this parable is to criticize the exploitation on the part of the city elites and their conventions. Narrative Q definitely shows a refusal to endorse their practices in this parable. Considering the teachings in the kingdom discourse that prohibited receiving (loan) repayments (Q 6,30) and the woes against the rich (Q 6,24-25), the teaching of Q stands in opposition to the master’s stance: do not serve mammon (Q 16,13). Ultimately, one of the aims in Q is the cancellation of debt (Q 11,4). Accordingly, all the slaves in this parable disclose what brought collapse to the Galilee villager’s traditional life. As a character in the Q narrative, the third slave exposed the master’s nature. Though the master took away the money from him, the money, in fact, had not belonged to him in the first place. Consequently, the clever slave was not punished nor had he executed his master’s command. Both Matthew’s agenda of eschatological ethics and the Lukan historical concern blurred this amusing ending to the parable. The vivid descriptions of the entire process of events, however, demonstrate the humorous features of Q. In this respect the parable of Entrusted Money can be interpreted as a sort of satire. Satire is known in various cultures as a verbal weapon of powerless people, focusing upon social injustice76 with biting wit and humor. Besides, the repeated word play in Q 19,20-22; Reaping (‫ )קצר‬where he did not sow (‫)זרע‬, gathering (‫ )קבץ‬where he did not scatter (‫)זרה‬77 shows a special

74

Cf. W. BAUER/W. F. A RNDT/F. W. G INGRICH, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, 3rd revised ed. by F. W. Danker, Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press 2001, p. 930. 75 Cf. STEGEMANN/STEGEMANN, The Jesus Movement (see n. 61), p. 17. 76 Cf. R. C. E LLIOTT, Satire, in: A. Preminger (ed.), Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics, Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press 1974, pp. 738-740. 77 The Hebrew contains alliteration, which alludes to oral performances.

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aspect of Q’s satire recurring in the children’s play in the market place (7,32), which performs a significant role in criticizing “this generation.”78 Ultimately, both the hardhearted master and the cunning slave are used metaphorically to disclose the immoral nature of the opponents of Q, while also revealing the aloof and sarcastic attitude of resistance by the people of Q toward those who were inhumanely oppressing them. 2.2. Children in Q Instead of the metaphor of the slave, the metaphor of children has emerged as the central self-image of the Q people. The metaphor of children in Q has two important aspects. One is a strong connection with the audience of Q and the other is to bring significant changes to the understanding of the eschatology of Q. The various terms for children that are used metaphorically are related to the qualities and nature of children: παιδίον (Q 7,32), νήπιος (Q 10,21) are utilized primarily in connection with the nature and quality of little children and γέννηµα (Q 3,7), γεννητός (Q 7,28), υἱός (Q 4,3; 10,6), θυγάτηρ (Q 12,53), τέκνον (Q 3,8; 7,35; 11,13) emphasize the children’s relationship with parents. Although these are Greek terms, they have metaphorical connotations linked with Israelite tradition. 2.2.1. Use of Traditional Concepts of Children in Q The difficulty of defining childhood as a unified concept79 is not only a modern phenomenon. In ancient times the general conception of children in Greco-Roman society was quite different from that in Israelite tradition. Both societies located children in the most vulnerable position within the hierarchal structure – being under the absolute authority of their fathers; however, in its metaphorical meaning, the “locations” within the two cultures are different. In Greco-Roman society children were symbolized by the absence of logos or defined as standing outside the rational world of the adult.80 What qualified children to perform important roles in public rituals was not their nature or quality, but only their sexual purity.81 78 It is interesting to connect such word play with actual historical evidence of famous children’s songs. The Suhdong-song in the 7th century C.E. and the Minari-song in the 17th century C.E., for example, reflect socio-political issues in Korean history, and consist of repeating simple lines. Though children’s songs, these songs are important reflections of those eras. 79 Cf. A. PROUT, The Future of Childhood: Towards the Interdisciplinary Study of Children (Future of Childhood Series), London: Routledge 2005, pp. 8-34. 80 Cf. O. M. BAKKE, When Children Became People: The Birth of Childhood in Early Christianity, trans. B. McNeil, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2005, pp. 15-16. Those ideas form the basis for the law giving permission to the parents to expose, abort, and kill their children. On the other hand, there are many documents reporting Roman

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On the other hand, Israelite tradition regarded children as God’s greatest gift82 (Gen 15,1-3; 12,1-3, Ps 127, 128) pertaining to its covenant with God.83 Children were important in worship, prayer, and ritual (Exod 13,8, 14; Deut 4,9; 6,7; Num 6,24-26).84 They often appeared as an example for adults in Israelite traditions (David, Solomon, Samuel, and Joseph in their childhood). Even in the description of eschatology, the fulfillment of eschatological joy is expressed as the delight of boys and girls playing in the street (Zech 8,5). Q also emphasizes the superiority of infants over the sages: “For you hid these things from sages and learned, and disclosed them to children” (Q 10,21). In the old stories in Israelite tradition, little children such as Samuel had the ability to hear God’s voice but the priest Eli did not (1 Sam 3,4-18); the young Joseph had a comprehension of dreams but his elder brothers did not (Gen 37,5-11). In accordance with this Israelite tradition, Q even gives children who play in the market place the authority to criticize this generation (Q 7,31-35). However, Q developed this tradition with its metaphorical focus upon the actions and properties of parents and children in order to awaken the audience of Q to their identity as children of God. 2.2.2. Children and Audience of Q Q places the audience as a counterpart to the speaker, Jesus; thus, the audience is as essential as the Son of Man in Q. The audience’s eventually elevated position originates from their relationship with their father, God. From the beginning of Q the issue of sonship (Q 3,8; 4,3.9) is raised as a matter of great importance, including the matter of the identification of the parents. This is clearly involved in the identification of the audience as children of God (Q 6,35.36; 11,2.13; 12,30). Q claims that the bond between a child and his or her father is revealed by the child’s actions and not by their bloodline as can be seen in John the Baptist’s severe accusation against the opponents of Q (Q 3,8). This narrative setting, which is interlocked with metaphorical uses of children of Q, permits a new dimenparent’s overflowing love for their children. E. EYBEN, Fathers and Sons, in: Rawson (ed.), Marriage, Divorce and Children in Ancient Rome (see n. 40), pp. 114-143, pp. 116121. 81 Cf. BAKKE, When Children Became People (see n. 81), pp. 47-51. 82 Cf. C. J. H. Wright, Family (OT), in: Freedman (ed.), The Anchor Bible Dictionary 2 (see n. 24), pp. 766-767. 83 In earlier Israelite tradition children carried their parents’ name to link them with immortality (Gen 48,16). 84 Cf. J. A. GRASSI, Child, Children, in: Freedman (ed.), The Anchor Bible Dictionary (see n. 24), pp. 1:904-907.

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sion of understanding about a child/parent relationship; the actions of children and parents takes precedence over the biological link of their bloodline. Also, this metaphorical use makes a significant theological departure from their old tradition which regards Israelites as sons of God by nature.85 Q defines the fathers of its opponents as killers of prophets (Q 11,47), while the father of the audience is depicted with the imagery of mercy and forgiveness in kingdom discourse (Q 6,35-36). If the audience practices mercy and forgiveness, their good behavior manifests their identity as children of God (Q 6,35-36), creating a strong bond with their father, the father of the kingdom of God Since Q originates from oral narratives in an agrarian context where reciprocity played a significant role, it is quite certain that the teaching of Jesus to show mercy and forgiveness (ἀφίηµι, ὀφείλω, ἀπολύω) implied the social dimension of the cancellation of debt. In the oral context the mutual understanding between speaker and audience is essential to sustaining the narrative.86 If the audience had not accepted the messages of Q, narrative Q itself could not exist. Therefore it is possible to suggest that the actual cancellation of debts existed among the people of Q. It was a wise and voluntary solution for recovering their village community which had been torn down by debt between neighbors. Although it may have been too small a movement by the powerless to bring critical changes in Roman Galilee in confronting the great power of the ruling group, nonetheless it is significant enough to open the possibility of the actualization of the message of Q. Furthermore, this metaphor changes the atmosphere of the kingdom of God. Since the kingdom is described as a present (ὑµετέρα Q 6,20)87 the image of the kingdom is connected with joy, as a gift from the father to his children. Also, the metonymy of God’s goodness, such as the intimate images of a father who feeds and responds to his children (Q 11,13; 12,30), makes the father’s kingdom familiar and comforting. Thus, the kingdom of God is changed from the concept of a coming moment of judgment to a moment of joy in childhood. This becomes one of the essential experiences

85

According to Leo Perdue, Israel is metaphorically portrayed in the role of Yahweh’s son. Cf. L. G. P ERDUE, The Household, Old Testament Theology and Contemporary Hermeneutics, in: L. G. Perdue et al., Families in Ancient Israel (The Family, Religion, and Culture), Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press 1997, pp. 223-257, pp. 231-232. 86 Cf. M. A. K. HALLIDAY, Language as Social Semiotics (see n. 20), pp. 31-35. R. S CHOLES/J. P HELAN/R. KELLOGG, The Nature of Narrative, rev. and expanded ed., Oxford: Oxford University Press 2006, pp. 52-53. 87 In Q 6,20 the kingdom is depicted as an object that can be given; the kingdom is yours.

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for the audience of Q. As a result, this metaphor functions to change their reality. In Galilee, various masters appeared to have claimed their ownership of land with violence. The audience of Q, however, re-acknowledged themselves as children of God and cultivated land owned by their father, the eternal owner of land.88 The optimistic atmosphere of Q may come from this ultimate recognition. Even though no direct materials from Galilean peasants are known, this metaphor of children provides a reference that the people behind Q did not regard themselves as simple victims of history. Instead, they understood themselves as agents of history, able to overcome the injustice of their reality with their faith. They may rarely have experienced tangible mercy in their burdened lives that were always exposed to potential hunger and violence, but they tried to actualize their Father’s kingdom in their reality by showing mercy and forgiving (Q 6,27.30-36; 11,4). This demonstrates the eschatological ethics of the essential dimension of the metaphorical use of children in Q. In conclusion, I suggest a consideration of another aspect in the metaphorical interpretation of the children of Q. The lively images recurring of children at play can indicate the state of the Q people. Through the images of children playing (Q 7,32), the cheerfulness of joy (Q 6,23), the thrills of finding (Q 15,4-5), the frightened fascination while listening to the story of the devil’s return (Q 11,24-26), and children dancing (Q 7,32), we have a more vivid picture of the history of Q. For example, the distinctive feature of Q’s repeated motif of seeking and finding (Q 11,9-13.24-26; 15,4-5) is more understandable when connected with children’s play than with Jewish wisdom tradition (cf. 1 En. 42,2). Especially, the inexplicable reaction of the shepherd in the Parable of Lost Sheep becomes quite sensible when connected with children’s play. How exciting it is when we find someone hiding in play! In the same way, the finding of the kingdom is absolutely joyful. These metaphors related to children’s play support the conclusion that the main audiences of Q were small village families that included children and were familiar with their children’s play. One can even imagine that the children themselves became narrators of Q in retelling beautiful memories of playing with Jesus. Their remembrance of the moments of joy connected them with the kingdom of God and encouraged them to continue the message of Q. Eventually, the joy of childhood experienced by the most vulnerable human beings became the foundation of Q to build the kingdom of God.

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Cf. FIENSY, The Social History of Palestine in the Herodian Period (see n. 35), p. 3

Conceptualizing Justice in Q: Narrative and Context Sarah E. Rollens The motif of judgment in Q has attracted a great deal of scholarly attention. Especially as part of the vividly polemical, Deuteronomistic component of Q, judgment has been shown to be a key organizational trope for understanding the composition of the document and the interests of its authors.1 Another concept, which is intimately related to the theme of judgment but not necessarily identical to it, is justice. While these two concepts are easily conflated, justice should be treated as a separate conceptual domain, and thus far it has not been given due attention within Q studies. When it is considered, many analyses tend to presume that Q’s notion of justice simply extends “Israelite” views of justice,2 often thought to come to expression in the kingdom of God. In many ways, however, the kingdom of God is unreliable for understanding Q’s sense of justice. Thus, the present analysis pursues another tactic: decoding the system of justice presupposed in other Q passages, using Q 6,29-30 and Q 12,58-59 as case studies.3 The sentiments behind these two passages express a coherent 1

On Deuteronomistic theology, cf. O. H. STECK, Israel und das gewaltsame Geschick der Propheten: Untersuchungen zur Überlieferung des deuteronomistischen Geschichtsbildes im Alten Testament, Spätjudentum und Urchristentum (WMANT 23), NeukirchenVluyn: Neukirchener Verlag 1967. For its role in Q, cf. especially A. D. JACOBSON, The Literary Unity of Q, JBL 101 (1982), pp. 365-389; J. S. KLOPPENBORG, The Formation of Q: Trajectories in Ancient Wisdom Collections (Studies in Antiquity and Christianity), Philadelphia, Pa.: Fortress Press 1987, pp. 92-93, 102-169. 2 For example, R. A. Horsley consistently argues this position in numerous publications as part of a larger argument that Q renews and rejuvenates Galilean village communities based on covenantal ethics. For instance, R. A. HORSLEY, Jesus and the Spiral of Violence: Popular Jewish Resistance in Roman Palestine, San Francisco, Ca.: Harper & Row 1987; IDEM, Sociology and the Jesus Movement, 2nd ed., New York, N.Y.: Continuum 1994; IDEM, Covenant Economics: A Biblical Vision of Justice for All, Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press 2009. 3 There are several reasons for treating these passages together in this analysis. Formally, they are both comprised of sapiential admonitions and offer the reader or listener “advice”. Moreover, they work similarly in the immediate rhetorical structure in which they are embedded, cf. R. A. P IPER , Wisdom in the Q-tradition: The Aphoristic Teaching of Jesus (Society of New Testament Studies Monograph Series 61), Cambridge:

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sense of (in)justice which informs the recommendations in their instructions, contributing to the rhetorical efficacy of the aphorisms. The coherence of their perspectives is further demonstrated by comparing these passages, particularly the events and metaphors employed, with situations in documentary papyri. In short, documentary papyri help us to understand the efficacy of the particular calls for justice in Q: the logic behind Q’s social criticism is directly related to specific social experiences. Moreover, the analysis suggests that Q’s conception of justice is not cut from whole cloth. Different sections of the text view the world quite differently when it comes to this matter. Put simply, the confidence in successfully enacting a just social program has deteriorated by the time of the secondary redaction. The promise of the kingdom – whatever the specific parameters of that may have been – is defunct, as is the human-initiated justice entailed within it, and divine intervention becomes necessary. This observation supports earlier arguments that Q2 represents an ideological development and expansion on Q1.4 The kind of justice Q eventually develops at the narrative level can be juxtaposed with the very real injustice Cambridge University Press 1989. Conceptually, as Piper suggests elsewhere, there is a close connection between the sentiments of powerlessness expressed in these two passages: “A telling parallel to this viewpoint [of helplessness in Q 6] can be found in another saying that is sapiential in form, although appearing later and somewhat awkwardly at the end of a series of sayings about judgment in Q 12. Q 12,58-59 shows the same concern to advise avoidance of judicial proceeding” IDEM , The Language of Violence and the Aphoristic Sayings in Q: A Study of Q 6:27-36, in: J. S. Kloppenborg (ed.), Conflict and Invention: Literary, Rhetorical, and Social Studies on the Sayings Gospel Q, Valley Forge, Pa.: Trinity Press International 1995, pp. 53-72, p. 60. Cf. J. S. K LOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q: The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press/Edinburgh: T & T Clark 2000, pp. 193-196. In this vein, it is worth noting that Matthew put both sayings to similar use in his antitheses (Matt 5,25-26; 5,39-40) to support a reevaluation of a traditional interpretation of biblical precepts, in Matt 5,21 and 5,38, respectively. This indicates that Matthew saw conceptual similarities in these passages, too. Finally, as this analysis will demonstrate, the rhetorical currency of these statements functions similarly in Q: neither passage is merely a report of an event or a “simple” maxim, but rather a rich tradition that is embedded with particular assumptions about the way the world works. 4 This argument was made by K LOPPENBORG, The Formation of Q (see n. 1) on literary grounds and by B. L. MACK, The Lost Gospel: The Book of Q and Christian Origins, San Francisco, Ca.: Harper 1993 on socio-rhetorical grounds. This analysis will not presume a strict correlation between Q’s literary layers and the social history of its authors, something for which Mack, in particular, has been criticized. On the contrary, Q 6,29-30 belongs to Q1 , while Q 12,58-59 probably belongs in Q2 , cf. KLOPPENBORG V ERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 3), p. 144, and so there is no abrupt or absolute ideological transition between the formative layer and the redaction. But overall, I maintain, there is an ideological development in the conception of justice within Q. As the final section of this paper suggests, by the time Q’s overtly eschatological material has been appended to the formative material, the “solution” to the problems Q identifies is different.

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that its purveyors probably experienced, and indeed, relied on their audience experiencing. In other words, the reality of injustice, coupled with the very probable rejection of the Q tradents’ message, spurs the development of Q’s rhetoric of justice.

1. Distinguishing Concepts: Justice versus Judgment At the outset, it is useful to provide some brief remarks about the concept of justice that this paper will utilize and to distinguish it from the concept of judgment. These concepts are not unrelated, but they are not necessarily interchangeable. For the purposes of this essay, justice should be understood as an ideological construct within which judgment is expressed (or is imagined or hoped to be expressed). This ideological construct is a reflection of values, worldviews, hopes, desires, interactions, and experiences. In this sense, statements can be decoded to reveal how authors suppose the world, its actors, and its institutions work. When a system of justice is perceived to be violated, judgment is warranted. Thus, the relationship between judgment and justice is one of expression: judgment expresses an abstract system of justice. With the emergence of the post-modern era and the pluralistic condition of most societies, we are obliged to admit a multiplicity of possible systems of justice. A variety of systems of justice, however, is not only a modern phenomenon. Diverse conceptions ought to be acknowledged in antiquity, too, because these ideas emerge from one’s social experiences. Moreover, they do not express natural relations of power but the often very visible inequalities of any given social structure. As Rudolf Stammler rightly observed as early as 1923, one’s conception of justice is not innate: The idea of justice must be gradually acquired by every one in the course of his [or her] life. That this is done by all persons in exactly the same way is an assumption that is quite unfounded. Every one is subject of numberless impressions. He [or she] often acquires his [or her] fundamental opinions under the influence of immeasurable complications.… [One’s sense of justice] has been scraped together by any given person in his [or her] conditions’ circumstances and his [or her] particular development.5

Thus, justice emerges from an individual’s perception that is directly related to his or her social experiences. Or, to acknowledge the collectivist nature of antique society,6 we could also say that the construct of justice is 5

R. STAMMLER, The Idea of Justice, trans. Isaac Husik, University of Pennsylvania Law Review and American Law Register 71 (1923), pp. 303-317, p. 307. 6 Cf. B. J. MALINA, Understanding New Testament Persons, in: R. L. Rohrbaugh (ed.), The Social Sciences and New Testament Interpretation, Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson Publishers 1996, pp. 41-61, pp. 44-49.

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directly related to the social experiences of a particular group within which an individual is strongly embedded. One’s access to power, or lack thereof, will undoubtedly affect one’s perspective on the world and his or her sense of (in)justice. Mayer N. Zald argues that those people who frame issues that are critical to social movements employ “cultural stock” including “images of what is an injustice, [and] what is a violation of what ought to be.”7 He qualifies this, cautioning this “is not to say that all social movements have equal access to that stock.”8 Likewise, Rosanne Rutten and Michiel Baud emphasize: “Which ‘images’ were available to them [these framers], depended on their position in society, and the ideologies that were known and disseminated within networks in which they operated.”9 All this is to say that justice is not an abstract concept that individuals come to understand through the faculty of reason: it is a construct based on discrete social, political, economic, legal, and other experiences. The examples and imagery selected by those who frame the concerns of social movements are directly related to their (and their constituents’) positions in society.10 Since the project behind Q can be considered a kind of social movement in that it contains many obvious social criticisms and proposes alternative forms of exchange and interaction, we ought to be able to access some of the ideas about justice that it presupposes. The following analysis demonstrates that, although it may not be systematically formulated, the concept of justice in Q derives from a non-elite social position, which corroborates the above scholars who rightly argue that systems of justice are generated by one’s social location and social experience.

7 M. N. ZALD, Culture, Ideology, and Strategic Framing, in: D. McAdam/J. D. McCarthy/M. N. Zald (eds.), Comparative Perspectives on Social Movements: Political Opportunities, Mobilizing Structures, and Cultural Framings (Cambridge Studies in Comparative Politics), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1996, pp. 261-274, p. 267. 8 ZALD, Culture, Ideology, and Strategic Framing (see n. 7), p. 267. 9 R. RUTTEN/M. BAUD, Concluding Remarks: Framing Protest in Asia, Africa, and Latin America, in: Eidem (eds.), Popular Intellectuals and Social Movements: Framing Protest in Asia, Africa, and Latin America (IRSH Supplement 12), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2004, pp. 197-217, p. 204. 10 Cf. Kloppenborg’s important discussion about recognizing ideological subtexts in J. S. KLOPPENBORG, The Tenants in the Vineyard: Ideology, Economics, and Agrarian Conflict in Jewish Palestine (WUNT 195), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2010, pp. 10-19.

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2. Justice in Q In pursuit of Q’s ideas about justice, one obvious starting point would be to reconstruct an “ideal” world as based on the characteristics of the kingdom of God. For instance, the Lord’s Prayer in Q 11,2b-4 (often read in close connection with Q 11,9-13) is a fruitful passage from which to derive specific characteristics of God’s rule. If we rely on this, the kingdom entails the release of debts and the receipt of sufficient daily provisions. This passage is often set alongside Q 12,22b-31, which assures one that God’s reign will provide what is required for basic survival. These two passages are probably the most fruitful for amassing data on what the Q people were trying to accomplish by invoking the idea of the kingdom, which has encouraged some scholars to seek out a wider frame of reference for this ethos. For example, Horsley concludes that the kingdom of God in Q symbolizes the renewal of the intra-village network of support in Lower Galilee, which was based on ancient Israelite covenantal ethics, but which had weakened in response to social and political changes under Herodian (and thus Roman) rule.11 For him, the kingdom of God expresses principles of justice that extend back to the Mosaic covenant. Others, such as Burton L. Mack, have suggested that the kingdom is a metaphor for an existence unburdened by social convention and conformity which otherwise controlled people in the ancient world.12 The kingdom embodies a set of ideas about self-actualized people akin, but not identical, to Cynics; it is not a program based on justice, but rather, a social critique based on injustice. As I and others have argued elsewhere,13 focusing too closely on the symbolic function of the kingdom of God, however, might be misleading. 11

For instance, R. A. H ORSLEY/J. A. DRAPER, Whoever Hears You Hears Me: Prophets, Performance, and Tradition in Q, Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International 1999. Cf. also n. 2 above. 12 Cf. MACK, The Lost Gospel (see n. 4), pp. 123-128. Similarly, L. E. VAAGE, Galilean Upstarts: Jesus’ First Followers According to Q, Valley Forge, Pa.: Trinity Press International 1994. 13 Cf. S. E. ROLLENS, Does “Q” Have Any Representative Potential? Method & Theory in the Study of Religion 23 (2011), pp. 64-78; L. E. VAAGE, Q and Cynicism: On Comparison and Social Identity, in: R. A. Piper (ed.), The Gospel Behind the Gospels: Current Studies on Q (NT.S 75), Leiden: E. J. Brill 1995, pp. 199-230; R. URO, Apocalyptic Symbolism and Social Identity in Q, in: Idem (ed.), Symbols and Strata: Essays on the Sayings Gospel Q (Publications of the Finnish Exegetical Society 65), Helsinki: Finnish Exegetical Society/Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1996, pp. 67-118. I am skeptical of pursuing the symbolic meaning of the kingdom, because scholars often import modern assumptions about the nature of religion into the discussion, while Vaage notes that the language of the kingdom is used inconsistently throughout Q and defies one definitive interpretation. Uro claims that the kingdom stands for the good things Q

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For one, some references to the kingdom in Q provide little to no substantial information about the parameters or nature of the kingdom. Take Q 7,28, which proclaims that the least in the kingdom is superior to John the Baptist. Arnal has argued that this odd and ambiguous attitude toward John the Baptist in Q probably relates to Q’s attempts at group formulation and self-legitimation, and the references in Q 3,7-9.16-17 are struggling with the question of the relationship between John, Jesus, and consequently, the Q group. Therefore, the statement in Q 7,28 that John is outside the kingdom has nothing to do with describing the nature of the kingdom, but everything to do with the Q people legitimating their message.14 Or, consider Q 10,9 which concludes the mission discourse by stating that the kingdom has come to people who receive the disciples hospitably. It is possible that we are meant to interpret the kingdom as something expressed through the presence of the disciples and their healing activity in people’s homes (10,9), but this is by no means clear. Moreover, far from embodying concrete wishes for social and economic justice, the reference to the rule of God in Q 11,20, which concludes the incident concerning the Beelzebub accusation, likewise gives few unambiguous details about what exactly the kingdom is. Therefore, while some passages about the kingdom might provide useful information for Q’s conceptions of justice, others are not as straightforward. And although it is clear that Israelite traditions inform Q, this is almost a tautological conclusion. Routine social experiences in the Roman Empire play an equal, and just as strong, part in informing Q’s sense of injustice. Beyond the few substantial details about the kingdom that can be collected from Q, then, there are more subtle hints about Q’s notions of justice, embedded in its wisdom discourse and expressing presumptions about the way the world works. The remainder of this essay will focus on two exemplary passages which are infused with a sense of injustice, and these situations of injustice will make a great deal of sense when read alongside ancient documentary papyri. This socio-economic injustice, as the last section of the essay suggests, was not easily overcome and the authors’ message was not well received, and so Q’s rhetoric reframes the question of justice in such a way as to imbue it with cosmic significance and allow divine intervention. This probably indicates that the authors realized that the social values proffered in Q1 and in the rhetoric of the envisions, but significantly “[i]ts exact meaning remains open and the contexts of the sayings tell more about the identity of the group behind the sayings than about the symbol itself” ibid., p. 89. 14 Cf. W. E. ARNAL, Redactional Fabrication and Group Legitimation: The Baptist’s Preaching in Q 3:7-9, 16-17, in: J. S. Kloppenborg (ed.), Conflict and Invention (see n. 3), pp. 165-180, p. 176.

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kingdom were not an efficacious solution to the reality of social marginality.

3. Q 6,29-30 Q 6,29-30 enjoins one to offer the other cheek when struck and to surrender voluntarily one’s garments when a person brings a suit against the person: “The one who slaps you on the cheek, offer him the other as well; and to the person wanting to take you to court and get your shirt, turn over to him the coat as well. To the one who asks of you, give; and from the one who borrows, do not ask back yours.”15 This admonition is probably a combination of two separate sayings which have been joined together and then inserted into Q 6,27-36 as a unit, given that the form of address switches from singular to plural16 and that it interrupts a rhetorical structure that is otherwise strongly attested in Q.17 Q 6,29 supports the more general maxim offered in 6,30, to give to whoever asks and to not request back what has been borrowed. The thrust of the statement seemingly demands what is arguably unconventional behaviour in order to make some impact in the world: either to influence the way others treat one (6,31) or to emulate the impartiality of the father (6,35c-d; 6,37-38). As part of this argument, Q imagines a situation of explicit violence and insult in 6,29, and the recommendation is simply to endure it.18 The choice to use language loaded with such forensic overtones might appear odd at first glance. Here we will only be focusing on the latter part of the admonition in 6,29 (having one’s garment taken via the courts), although the violence implicit in the first part of the statement should be recognized as well.19 Numerous questions could follow from a consider15

All translations are based upon the Critical Edition of Q; Cf. J. M. ROBINSON/P. H OFFMANN/J. S. K LOPPENBORG (eds.), The Critical Edition of Q: A Synopsis, Including the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, Mark and Thomas: With English, German and French Translations of Q and Thomas (Hermeneia Supplements), Leuven: Peeters/Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2000. 16 Cf. K LOPPENBORG, The Formation of Q (see n. 1), p. 176; C. M. TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity: Studies on Q, Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1996, pp. 300307; P IPER, Wisdom in the Q-tradition (see n. 3), p. 79. 17 Cf. P IPER, Wisdom in the Q-tradition (see n. 3), pp. 78-86. Piper finds that Q 6,2736 is structured similarly to the main aphoristic collections in Q (Q 11,9-13; 12,22-31; 6,37-42; 6,43-5; 12,2-9), especially if 6,29-30 are bracketed within the passage. 18 Cf. D. R. CATCHPOLE, The Quest for Q, Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1993, p. 110. 19 Note that the saying imagines routine, unprovoked, and unchallenged violence. Cf. A. Z. BRYEN, Visibility and Violence in Petitions from Roman Egypt, GRBS 48 (2008), pp. 181-200. A. Bryen describes the frequent references to physical violence in petitions, concluding that petitioners who could claim visible violence could often get a quicker

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ation of the advice to surrender the shirt and the coat. Why use this example? Why not use different material possessions as the items under question? How frequently did people take others to court over a disputed garment? Who would be most at risk for this kind of situation? Usually, Deut 24,10-13.17 is employed to make sense of this passage, because it discusses the conditions, according to Jewish law, under which a cloak may be accepted as collateral in a legal arrangement:20 When you make a loan of any kind to your neighbour, do not go into their house to get what is offered to you as a pledge. Stay outside and let the neighbour to whom you are making the loan bring the pledge out to you. If the neighbour is poor, do not go to sleep with their pledge in your possession. Return their cloak by sunset so that your neighbour may sleep in it. Then they will thank you, and it will be regarded as a righteous act in the sight of the Lord your God … Do not deprive the foreigner or the fatherless of justice, or take the cloak of the widow as a pledge.

The typical conclusion is that a cloak is one of the most intimate items a person could possess and was something of a basic necessity. Importantly, for the poorest individuals, a cloak might have been all that they would and more sympathetic response from the authorities. TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity (see n. 16), p. 305 downplays the violence in this passage: “The situation is thus not necessarily one of any extreme physical violence. It is one of personal animosity, perhaps jeering and insulting gestures.” Certainly “extreme physical violence” is not in view, but I would suggest that it is useful to retain the notion of violence behind both examples (the slap and the court scenario) in this passage, perhaps tempered by the qualification structural violence or institutional violence. J. GALTUNG, Violence, Peace, and Peace Research, Journal of Peace Research 6 (1969), pp. 167-191, originally formulated the concept of structural violence to account for a kind of impersonal and systemic violence which denied certain individuals and groups access to power and other privileges. Deborah Winter and Dana Leighton offer a working definition: “Structural violence … is almost always invisible, embedded in ubiquitous social structures, normalized by stable institutions and regular experience. Structural violence occurs whenever people are disadvantaged by political, legal, economic or cultural traditions. Because they are longstanding, structural inequities usually seem ordinary – the way things are and always have been” D. D. WINTER/D. C. LEIGHTON, Structural Violence, in: D. J. Christie/R. V. Wagner/D. D. Winter (eds.), Peace, Conflict, and Violence: Peace Psychology for the 21st Century, Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall 2001, pp. 99-101, p. 99. These qualifications heighten our attention to the fact that, even in antiquity, certain social classes were more likely than others to experience routine injustices, especially in political and legal situations. While these situations may not have been physically violent in all cases, they certainly restricted the privileges of many people. In this case, being struck in the face and losing one’s garment in the course of a lawsuit are assumed to be routine examples – and we would surely be correct to conclude that such treatment was not experienced regularly by the elite population. 20 Cf. CATCHPOLE, The Quest for Q (see n. 18), p. 113. Tuckett cautions against the immediate connection to Deuteronomy: “It is worth noting that Luke himself seems unaware of this link. Luke does not place Q 6,30 in relation to lending but to a robbery situation” TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity (see n. 16), p. 430 n. 23.

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have had to put up as surety for a loan. Thus, Deuteronomy preserves a kind of protection for economically vulnerable people.21 Later, the Mishnah couples seizure of a cloak with other insulting and violent actions such as pulling out someone’s hair or spitting on them (m. B. Qam. 8,6).22 Although these Jewish texts indicate that cloaks were quite valuable to the poor and that a neighbour should not exploit their neighbour by depriving them of their necessary possessions, I maintain there is a wider context, outside the Israelite covenantal tradition, which can help elucidate Q 6,29-30 as well. The papyrological context for this admonition is extremely illuminating.23 Papyri demonstrate that losing garments24 in the way Q recounts (that is, by legal force) was frequent, and especially for those of modest means, was a significant financial loss. The frequency of lost garments mentioned in these texts and the value assigned to these items provide reason to think this reference may have gained metaphorical currency among a certain section of the populace, unrelated to Israelite affiliation. For Q to appeal to relinquishing one’s garment in a dispute should not be taken as a casual allusion to the Mosaic covenant, but rather as a reference replete with overtones of injustice and powerlessness. Q’s authors could have picked any material possession, but items of clothing were deliberately symbolic. Papyri contain the evidence we need to conclude that this would have been an effective trope of injustice. For instance, in a petition from the early first century C.E., a certain Marsisouchos complains of one Soterichos, who, as part of a legal dispute, deprived him of his cloak and some tax receipts: … Soterichos, a scribe of the komogrammateus of the village, sent the praktor and the policeman to the fields, and they arrested me and handed me over to the … of Soterichos, even though I owed absolutely nothing, and I was not released until I had given security. 21

We should not necessarily assume that Israelite society was either egalitarian or somehow non-exploitative based on ethical ideals as Deuteronomy 24. On the contrary, the fact that these ideals had to be explicitly codified, sometimes repetitively so, probably indicates the opposite, that socio-economic inequality and exploitation were routine. 22 Cf. CATCHPOLE, The Quest for Q (see n. 18), p. 111. 23 I am grateful to E. K. VEARNCOMBE, Cloak and Dagger: Cloaks, Conflict and Mark 14:51-52, CBQ 75 (2013), pp. 683-703 for bringing to my attention the frequency with which lost garments are discussed in these documents. 24 I do not want to focus too closely on the different terminology in these petitions, but some comments are in order. Generally speaking, χιτών refers to the tunic or shirt worn closest to the body, while ἱµάτιον refers to a piece of clothing worn over the inner garment. Interestingly, these terms are not always translated consistently. K. ALAND (ed.), Synopsis of the Four Gospels: Greek-English Edition of the Synopsis Quattuor Evangeliorum, 12th ed., Stuttgart: German Bible Society 2001, p. 67, for example, translates ἱµάτιον as both “coat” and “cloak”, and χιτών as both “shirt” and “coat”. We will be concerned with the general references to these items, not the specific nuances of the translations.

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And the same Soterichos took my cloak away and impeded me in the work connected with the sowing of the public fields which I farm.25

Oddly, no specific details for the seizure of the cloak are given, nor is it necessarily clear if the “security” that the petitioner paid was, in fact, the cloak. Note, however, that the overall force of the petition is one of powerless: the petitioner is sought out by at least two people, arrested, and handed over. This sense of powerless, we will see, is reflected also in Q 12,58-59. Although not explicit in the above petition, putting up a garment as surety does appear to be very common. For instance, P.Mich. III 173 (Philadelphia, 170 B.C.E.) describes three figures who have given their garments (χιτών), among other items, as a pledge for a loan. Since they have not repaid the loans and redeemed the goods, the garments have been forfeited. The petitioner asks the epistates to prohibit the men from suing him the future in order to recover these pledges. In another example, P.Cair.Zen. III 59507 (third century B.C.E.) records the unfortunate circumstances in which a woman is forced to pawn a garment (ἱµάτιον) in order to procure money for her son’s travel. Following from the observation that garments were often offered as surety, we may surmise that the value of garments, cloaks in particular, could be quite high. That pawning a ἱµάτιον could cover one’s travel expenses is suggested by P.Cair.Zen. III 59507 above. In another instance, P.Tebt. III/1 802 (Tebtynis, 135 B. C. E.) reports of a theft on a ship, and the petitioner values his lost cloak at 3000 drachmas of bronze, along with other goods worth another 3000 drachmas: The 36th year, Hathur 11. To Demetrios,… On the (30th?) of Phaophi of the 36th year, the said barge being at anchor, certain persons approaching in their own boat came to anchor outside it (?) and broke away some of our gear, and when I rebuked them so that they might keep clear, they leapt on board with unseemly shouts and gave me many blows, with the result that in the tussle I lost a cloak [ἱµάτιον] worth 3000 drachmas of bronze as well as the broken gear, which was worth likewise 3000 drachmas of bronze. I beg you therefore to give orders. Farewell.

Even garments lost due to an owner’s negligence, such as leaving one’s possession unattended, were worth petitioning. An unidentified individual describes the loss of a garment in a public bath: (Having entered) the bath with a number of other persons he went off with my outer garment [ἱµάτιον]. I therefore ask you, if you see fit, to order a letter to be sent to the proper official to summon him before you, in order that he may be punished for this at

25

SB IV 7376 (October 11, 3 C. E.). Unless otherwise noted, all papyri translations are from those included in the Advanced Papyrological Information System (APIS) or the Papyrological Navigator (http://www.papyri.info).

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the tribunal and by this punishment you may deter others from like courses. If this is done, I shall have found energetic succor at your hands. Farewell.26

P.Duk.Inv. 739 (second century B.C.E.) reports a list of various items of clothing which had been stolen, such as cloaks and linen, as well as money, valued in total at 8,360 drachmas. A somewhat damaged papyri also records a legally binding promise of a garment as part of a contract to teach a slave the weaving trade. According to this contract, one Orsenouphis, apparently also called Psosneus, pledges to give the slave a tunic (κιθῶνα, Ion. for χιτών) during her apprenticeship.27 Here we see more evidence that though it may only have been a single garment, single items of clothing were often extremely valuable to many people and worth recovering by official means when they were pledged for goods and services, or otherwise promised as part of a contract. The value of garments is further indicated by the fact that they were often stolen. Instances of theft were already pointed out in P.Tebt. III/1 802 and P.Duk.Inv. 739 above, but there are others. In one papyrus, we read about a violent confrontation and robbery, as reported by one Akous, son of Herakleos. He describes his goods being carried off, including “a white tunic and robe, a cloak, a white …, a pair of scissors, some beer, a quantity of salt (?) and other things which at present I do not know” (κιθῶνα καὶ ἱµ[ά]τιον λευκὰ κ[αὶ πά]λλιονὸ… λευκὸν καὶ ψαλίδα καὶ ζῦτον [καὶ] σταθµίονἁὸλὸιὸς [?] καὶ ἕὸ[τερα] ἃ ἐπὶ τοῦ παρό[ν]τος ἀγνοῶ).28 Even outside legal petitions, the general loss of any garment was a sad state of affairs. From the early first century C. E. comes an interesting acrostic bemoaning the loss of a garment: My (garment?) is lost; violent was he (who took it?), well-born was he who took it. It was bought for ten staters; if it had been a cloak I should not have minded. I seek but do not find it. It was taken without cause. He will meet with anger. Just so he took it, my lovely garment. A lion he was who took it, a fool who lost it. It was taken at night. He was a stranger who took it, it was nothing to one like him. I will choke myself, for I am cold. He is indicated to me, for he watches me (?)…It is winter, there is great cold. How utterly unfortunate was I!29

Here we see the perspective on one who has been deprived of this garment, which was apparently even more valuable than a cloak, and interestingly, the accusation that the one who took it was “well-born,” although a “stranger”. The author, moreover, has a very emotional connection with this garment. That this appears not in a petition, but in an almost poetic literary form suggests that this state of affairs could be employed for its 26

P.Tebt. III/1 784 (Tebtynis, 2nd century B.C. E.). Cf. P.Mich. V 346 (Tebtynis, 16 C .E.). 28 P.Tebt. II 331 (Tebtynis, 126–132 C. E.). 29 P.Tebt. II 278 (Tebtynis, 1st century C .E.). 27

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metaphorical currency. In other words, this was a recognizable situation that the composer assumes will resonate with others, and it was not simply an event to be described for legal purposes. P.Tebt. I 48 (Kerkeosiris, ca. 118–112 B.C.E.) also suggests an interesting way in which the loss of a garment might function metaphorically. A certain Lykos and his armed entourage are engaged in a violent scuffle with one Horos the komarches, who in order to escape, “threw away his garment and took flight” (ῥίψαντα τὸ ἱµάτιον εἰς φυγὴν ὁρµῆσαι). This is no neutral account, but one which invokes important thematic motifs for efficacy. Erin Vearncombe has compared this reference to Mark 14,51-52, where a man leaves behind his (very fine) garment (τὴν σινδόνα) when Jesus is arrested. Both of these may be referring to an actual description of events (a garment was lost in the course of a hasty departure), but both also employ the garment to indicate the urgency of the situation: the flight was so hasty that even one’s most intimate garment had to be abandoned.30 The audience, presumably, would recognize the consequences of such urgency. As Deborah Hobson has shown, the petition was often the final stage in a larger legal process which usually commenced with self-help measures and only ended up in a petition or lawsuit after all other means of assistance were exhausted.31 This means that the many complaints and requests for help in recovering these items only show us the final moment in a longer struggle against perceived injustice. Far from being meaningful only to Jews who were familiar with Deuteronomy, Q 6,29-30 would have struck a chord with many in the Roman Empire. Thus, I suggest that the metaphorical employment of the lost garment in Q 6,29 is no accident – it is an image that would have had particular resonance with an especially vulnerable part of society, whose voices we detect frequently in documentary papyri. Documentary papyri, of course, are talking about specific instances of lost property, but perhaps this injustice was so common that a lost garment might carry strong symbolic currency. The call to voluntarily give up this item, even at the rhetorical level, would have indeed been unconventional. Essentially, however, it would amount to a way to deal with routine injustice without confronting it outright. Q does not even presume that recovery through official means will be an option. The conception of justice 30

Cf. VEARNCOMBE, Cloak and Dagger (see n. 23), pp. 699-701 makes an explicit connection between P.Tebt. I 48 and Mark 14,51-52. In exploring the lost cloak as a literary motif, she finds this to be a recognizable theme which would resonate with a variety of audiences. The peculiar reference in Mark to the lost cloak is therefore not so peculiar at all – but a deliberate choice by the author to import urgency into the scene. 31 Cf. D. W. HOBSON, The Impact of Law on Village Life in Roman Egypt, in: B. Halpern/D. W. Hobson (eds.), Law, Politics, Society, and the Ancient Mediterranean World, Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press 1993, pp. 193-219.

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behind this admonition thus amounts to tacit acceptance: one cannot avoid this kind of injustice. Incidentally this sentiment can also be discerned behind Q 12,58-59.

4. Q 12,58-59 After rebuking the audience for failing to judge the times (Q 12,54-56), Q 12,58-59 underscores the encouragement to properly respond by deploying a “parable”32 about settling with one’s accuser before court: “While you go along with your opponent on the way, make an effort to get loose from him, lest the opponent‚ hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the assistant, and the assistant throw you into prison. I say to you: You will not get out of there until you pay the last penny.” Q 12,58-59 comprises part of Q’s major redaction,33 and should be read together with the preceding material (Q 12,39-40.42-46.49.51.53.54-56), which emphasizes a future reckoning in which the Son of Man will play a significant role. As with most other redactional additions in Q, there are no new details about the ethical system that Q advocates in its formative layer. Yet, it would be an “oversimplification” to maintain that this and similar material in Q2 only warns of future judgment or eschatological consequences; this material is also argumentative.34 In Q 12,58-59 especially, the rhetorical efficacy of this passage still relies on a notion of injustice. The urgency of the scene is successful only because certain people can identify with the situation one finds in Q 12,58-59: being compelled to court and desiring to avoid the consequences. It is striking that no details of the case are given – it is simply assumed that once the legal wheels are set in motion, the end result will be negative. Presumably Q expected this kind of experience to resonate with its audience and invoke a sense of powerlessness or futility. As with Q 6,29-30, documentary papyri provide a valuable background to this saying and demonstrate that this kind of situation was very common. Numerous summons and petitions describe requests or orders to

32

J. D. CROSSAN, Parables, in: D. N. Freedman (ed.), The Anchor Bible Dictionary, 6 vols., New York, N.Y.: Doubleday 1992, pp. 5:146-152. This passage is not a typical parable in that it is neither described as one, nor does it conform to the typical formal features of one. Crossan, however, suggests that there is a special type of parable, the “aphoristic parable” ibid., p. 148, which employs aphoristic metaphors and presupposes a parable-like narrative. 33 Cf. KLOPPENBORG, The Formation of Q (see n. 1), pp. 102-170. 34 Cf. P IPER, Wisdom in the Q-tradition (see n. 3), p. 154.

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bring a person to court.35 In the village networks of Egypt, police and other enforcers were able to ensure that most people appeared, but evidently a number of people tried to evade the courts. In fact, failure to appear in court, especially by hiding to evade the trial, was a common way for people to avoid the court and its judgment.36 For instance, a certain Herakleia (Rufina) fervently complains in a letter to the epistrategos about her opponent’s repeated attempts to avoid trial: To Claudius Zenophon, the most excellent epistrategos, from Herakleia alias Rufina, Antinoitem daughter of Didymos son of Didymos alias Lourios, from the tribe of Matideios and deme of Kallitekneios. As a result of (my opponent’s) frequently putting forward excuses and avoiding a trial, … after many…courts…doing dreadful things…is proof of…for/to a scoundrel…and to overlook the…from the office of the court…committed. And accordingly, she, being subject to a great many injustices, and having been snatched (or: torn) by…my sister, I petitioned the former epistrategos Valens through an abundance of petitions, asking to be heard. Moreover Valens, finding that my request belonged to the office of the epistrategos, accepted it, rendering judgment through all his subscriptions. And when my opponent was not found, but rather escaping…to put off the matter…Since therefore in the intervening time…and him…subject to the violence of my opponent…according to necessity…capital punishment…depending…in need…jurisdiction…helpless…37

Whether by frequent excuses or physical absence, Herakleia/Rufina has not been able to exact the justice to which she thinks she is entitled. There is also indirect evidence of evasion. In a portion of a royal decree, copied by a village scribe of Kerkeosiris, amnesty is pronounced for some subjects, including “persons who have gone into hiding because they were guilty of theft or subject to charges.”38 Amnesty, however, was probably the exception, and failure to appear usually resulted in judgment in favour of the plantiff or petitioner.39 Less frequently, a case might be postponed until all parties could appear.40 To avoid the problem of failing to appear in court, parties involved were often required to make official declarations to appear in court,41 or someone was responsible for producing them in 35 Cf. P.Mich. X 589 (Arsinoites, 2nd –3rd century C. E.); P.Cair.Zen. IV 59619 (Philadelphia, 3rd century B.C.E.); P.Oxy. XLII 3035 (Oxyrhynchus, February 28th , 256 C. E.); P.Fay. 37 (Karanis, 3rd century C.E.); P.Amh. II 146 (Hermopolis, 5th century C. E.); P.Cair.Isidor. 76 (Karanis, July 16th , 318 C. E.) 36 Cf. P.Mich. IX 534 (Karanis, February 24th , 156 C. E.); P.Mich. I 57 (Arsinoites, July 4th , 248 B.C. E.). 37 P.Col. X 266 (Arsinoites, 179–181 C .E.). 38 P.Tebt. I 5 (Kerkeosiris, April 28th, 118 B .C. E.). 39 Cf. P.Mich. I 39 (Arsinoites, 254 B.C. E.); P.Hib. II 203 (246–221 B .C. E.). 40 Cf. P.Cair.Zen. II 59179 (Philadelphia, July 24th , 255 B.C.E.). 41 Cf. P.Oxy. II 260 (Oxyrhynchus, July 3rd , 59 C .E.); P.Oxy. XII 1456 (Oxyrhynchus, 284–286 C .E.) P.Oxy. IX 1195 (Oxyrhynchus, 135 C. E.); P.Mich. IX 533 (Karanis, 137 C .E.).

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court.42 From the perspective of the one who initiated the court proceedings, it is clear that this phenomenon was often a great annoyance and could stand in the way of justice. But if looked at from the other side, from the perspective of the person evading the legal system, this was one feasible way to try to avoid the consequences of a trial and to avoid a system deemed to be unjust. The sentiment behind Q 12,58-59 appears to reflect the situations described in the papyri; interestingly, it does not reflect the people doing the petitioning, but rather those about whom the petitioners complain. This aphorism does not recommend avoiding a dispute altogether or reneging on a contract, but it does reflect the evaders’ assumption that court would not go particularly well, indicating that this perspective derives from a social location of powerlessness. The overall sense of the passage, then, results in communicating urgency with which to respond to Jesus’, and hence Q’s, message. Q also takes for granted that prison will be the outcome of court, and thus the metaphor of prison is assumed to provide enough motivation to get the correct response out of the audience (i.e., recognize the time 12,5456 and respond to the Q people). Prisons in antiquity, as papyri indicate, often functioned as holding cells until certain obligations were met instead of a punishment or ultimate sentence.43 Thus, if one could not pay one’s debts, he or she might be put in prison until the financial matters were settled. Prisons also functioned to prevent people from pursuing further legal action, and thus were available “tools” for more powerful parties to control in the course of a legal dispute. For instance, a certain bee-keeper called Pharates was taken to prison, to be prevented from appealing to Zenon. Pharates, however, appeals to Zenon in this letter, arguing that he is willing to go to court and wants to be released from prison to tend to his beekeeping activities.44 Moreover, the possibility for bail was not always guaranteed. In another appeal to Zenon, Herodes and Zeniketes ask that the brother of the letter’s bearer be released or put on bail.45 The concern is that the brother, who is a minor, will perish in prison. Given that the incarcerated person is described as a youth, one may assume that perishing in prison would result from the poor conditions rather than old age. These kinds of assumptions should be read in the subtext of Q 12,58-59, which uses the imagery of prison as a motivator for proper response to the Q people.

42

For instance, in one (rather late) papyrus, two centurions may have been responsible for producing the defendant in court P.Ant. I 34 (Antinoopolis, 4th C. E.). 43 For example, in P.Cair.Zen. IV 59628. 44 Cf. P.Cair.Zen. III 59520 (Krokodilopolis, 3rd century B .C. E.). 45 Cf. P.Mich. I 85 (Philadelphia, 3rd century B. C.E.).

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The scene described in Q 12,58-59 and the frequent evasion of so many from appearing in court reflect the injustice of the institution of the courts and prison, because for many people, it was an experience of inequality or corruption. For instance, in the early second century B.C.E., a certain petitioner asks to be released from prison, given that he had fulfilled his obligations of producing sureties; unfortunately, he complains that the warden has accepted the sureties but failed to release him accordingly.46 Similarly, a certain Thasis believes she was illegally incarcerated by a honey-seller called Anches.47 Thus, release from prison was not necessarily guaranteed if the accused fulfills his or her obligations. When Q recommends reconciliation in 12,58-59, the aphorism plays on a lack of confidence in the legal system that is demonstrated in these papyri. Indeed, Q relies on this shared opinion in order to argue for the urgency required to respond to the message in Q. This perspective no doubt emerges from a group which occupied a relatively powerless social location, and experience had taught them to regard courts as rigged in favour of the more powerful and to make an effort to avoid them. From this perspective also, prison was a place of limbo, where one was arrested and kept from daily activities until legal obligations were met – and even that did not guarantee one’s release. Thus, the impartial nature of the legal system was evidently not a reality for many people in antiquity. By examining the forensic background to these two passages, then, it becomes clear that the rhetoric of these aphorisms is dependent on a shared perception of injustice in the world. Documentary papyri confirm that the imagery of lost garments, lawsuits, prisons, courtrooms, and the like would have been persuasive metaphors that had the ability to be rhetorically effective for a certain segment of the population – those who routinely experienced injustice and humiliation. The point here could be underscored further: Q did not use these examples to report events; the situations have been stylized as wisdom admonitions and are imbued with metaphorical currency. Being subject to a partial court and having to hand over one’s garment (perhaps one’s most intimate property) to an opponent may have functioned as “stock” phrases indicative of injustice and systematic violation for the Q people.48 Put differently, both of these passages play on tropes of injustice, and documentary papyri illuminate how they have been 46

Cf. P.Tebt. III 777 (Tebtynis, 2nd c. B.C. E.). Cf. P.Duk.Inv. 677. 48 This corroborates Bryen’s findings that petitions in documentary papyri were wont to describe the visibly violent nature of their encounter to make their appeal more persuasive BRYEN, Visibility and Violence in Petitions from Roman Egypt (see n. 19), pp. 198-199. Similarly, Q employs especially vivid and forceful imagery to heighten their persuasive power. 47

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received and with whom they would have resonated the most. Both of these passages are similar in that they address the audience and assume that the hearer’s/reader’s individual intervention will make a difference in the world. And they both advocate a practice of redirection so as to avoid situations of routine injustice. To do this, they bank on the audience recognizing generic stories of injustice behind Q 6,29-30 and Q 12,58-59, with which many people would have unfortunately been very familiar.

5. Q’s Transforming Notion of Justice Q 6,29-30 and 12,58-59 preserve a relatively coherent ideology and embody important assumptions about justice. Justice in Q is not simply a theological concept but rather one that is directly related to perceptions of social, economic, and political experience. The comparison to sentiments and situations in documentary papyri underscores the “situated-ness” of Q in a non-elite social location in the ancient world. In this final section, I would like to transition away from the context of Q, illustrated through external evidence (papyri), to the text of Q, focusing strictly within the document, and consider the way that Q’s notions of justice and injustice transform through the redactions evident in the text. In short, whereas Q initially expresses great confidence in its ability to intervene in the world, through ethical instructions and recommendations (mostly in Q1), this confidence tends to wane in redactional material. This indicates, among other things, disillusionment with enacting justice by human intervention. Thus, it is hardly a coincidence that in Q’s redactional additions, we begin to see explicit divine intervention to achieve justice. Q1 is rife with instructions that will presumably make a meaningful impact on the social relations that the author experienced, even if they only do so by calling into question the assumptions on which these relations are based.49 Even so, there are explicit instructions and recommendations, such as the calls to love one’s enemies (6,27), to treat others as one would like to be treated (6,31), to be merciful (6,36), to not worry about life’s necessities (12,22b-31), and to commit fully to Q’s message (14,26-27). The form and content of these sorts of sayings take for granted that individual intervention and response will still have a meaningful impact in everyday exchange: they counter injustice with conciliation and mercy, they respond to anxiety about subsistence living with encouragement and a promise for divine protection. By simply doing as Q recommends, we can surmise that a set of social relations based on justice (Q’s version, of course), impartial 49 So W. E. ARNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes: Galilean Conflicts and the Setting of Q, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2001, pp. 193-201.

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reasoning, and honest dealing would emerge. In short, even if the Q people and their audiences did experience the situations described above or other forms of structural violence, there is confidence that these problems can be ameliorated within the context of the Q group. One can confront injustice by tacitly accepting (and thereby diffusing) a situation of exploitation (Q 6,29-30), by refusing to engage in the system that ensures negative consequences (Q 12,58-59), or by imagining alternatives (Q 6,31; 6,35c-d; 6,36-38). Even if the kingdom of God or the instructions in Q’s formative material were meant to be a “solution” to the problems Q identifies, in Q2 things mostly change. The confidence in setting things right and in the persuasive power within Q has waned. In this material, there are far fewer references to the coming kingdom, how people will fare within it, or how it will differ from the current situation. The kingdom of God has been abandoned as a solution to the problems outlined in Q1, for as Q 16,16 pronounces, “The kingdom of God is violated and the violent plunder it.” Instead, the responsibility for enacting justice has been transferred to the cosmic realm, as a handful of salient examples will easily illustrate. For instance, Q 10,13-15 describes a future judgment, and although the agent is not explicit, one can hardly avoid the conclusion that God’s intervention will play a role in relegating the inhabitants of the Galilean towns to either heaven or Hades. Q 12,39-40 imagines the sudden appearance and intervention of the Son of Man, an event for which not everyone will be prepared. Jesus, who was once a mouthpiece for wise sayings, now voices definitive judgment (Q 11,31-32; 12,49.51.53; 13,34-35), which will set right the failure to respond to Q and repent. The Q people vindicate themselves within the text, moreover, because the final saying in Q claims that they will ultimately be rewarded with a position of power and the privilege to judge Israel: “You who have followed me will sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel” (Q 22,28.30). Here, the theme of judgment is picked up from elsewhere in Q, yet this time, the authors have reimagined themselves to wield power and to dole out judgment alongside God and the Son of Man.50 50

Upon further reflection, I find my interpretation to be (quite unintentionally) in line with J. D. Crossan’s distinction between sapiential eschatology and apocalyptic eschatology, cf. J. D. CROSSAN, The Historical Jesus: The Life of a Mediterranean Jewish Peasant, New York, N.Y.: HarperCollins 1991, pp. 225-302. As Crossan explains, sapiential eschatology inspired Jesus’ followers to try to enact kingdom in the present world, whereas apocalyptic eschatology looked forward to intervention by God to enact kingdom. The former was oriented toward the world with optimism, while the latter with pessimism. These categories map onto what I described above with respect to Q’s transforming notions of justice. Now, I would not import Crossan’s categories wholesale into my argument, because he envisions a comprehensive worldview, whereas I have res-

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This development in thinking about justice and how to achieve it is, in many ways, largely due to genre. The earlier material in Q is characterized by instructional forms and other ethical injunctions, which by their very nature presume that individual response and transformation are possible. Q’s redactional material introduces statements of explicit judgment, heated woes, and oracles of doom. This kind of language typically employs or presupposes a divine agent, whether or not it is explicitly stated. At the same time, we could also think about the development of justice in Q as a transition from a system which relies on self-help to one which relies on divine agency. Forms of self-help, as mentioned above, were often the first kinds of response to conflict;51 when self-help measures were ineffective, a person might pursue justice through official means. In several places discussed, Q appears to encourage forms of self-help for social and economic conflict; this implies that God’s intervention is not automatically necessary for effective social change. Q does not maintain this argument for long, though; the authors soon stress the explicit idea that God is the ultimate divine judge.52 By the time Q was framed into the document which Matthew and Luke came to utilize, Q expects imminent divine intervention and encourages the audience to rely on this expectation; yet some material such as Q 6,29-30 and 12,58-59 still bears markers of self-help strategies, whereby subordinate groups negotiate problematic situations with their own strategies instead of relying on a social and political structure in which they wield little power. These may initially seem to be mutually exclusive conceptions of justice: on one hand, the Q people imagine themselves to be able to transform the world by changing their behaviour and encouraging others to do the same, but on the other, they imagine a future reckoning with divine intervention. But this probably stems from a conceptual development from Q1 to Q2. There need not be any strict correlation between the social history of the Q group and the literary stratigraphy of Q, but the redactional material does bear an important relationship to the formative material. Q2 embodies a system with a new form of justice, because the confidence in the Q people’s ability to intervene in the world has fundamentally shifted between Q1 and Q2. Justice must be projected into the future when tricted myself to a handful of passages. Nevertheless, that he notices similar worldviews developing in early Christian texts is, I think, significant for my overall argument about Q. 51 Cf. HOBSON, The Impact of Law (see n. 31). 52 Cf. Recently, J. S. KLOPPENBORG, The Power and Surveillance of the Divine Judge in the Early Synoptic Tradition, in: J. Verheyden (ed.), Christ and the Emperor: The Evidence from the Gospels (Biblical Tools and Studies), Leuven: Peeters (forthcoming). Kloppenborg examines direct and indirect representations of the divine judge in Q. Significantly, the most unambiguous references appear in Q2 material.

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God and the Son of Man are expected to intervene. There remains a profound sense of powerlessness which imbues both the formative and redactional material in Q, but the response in each type of material is different. In the former, the authors envisage an alternative; in the latter, they project future punishment. I do not want to overemphasize this distinction between Q1 and Q2, and I certainly want to avoid any superficial description of these literary strata as “wisdom” or “apocalyptic.” But it is worth pointing out that Q2 “solves” the problems of lack of repentance and rejection by invoking divine intervention, but does not address many of the problems actually raised by Q1. Q2 only resolves things insofar as it makes sense of the apparent rejection of the Q people and their inability to successfully enact their social program. Thus, the development of justice in Q abandons the original project. This kind of transformation is consistent with the discussion of justice at the outset of this essay. If justice is a function of one’s particular socioeconomic and cultural experiences, then any development in those experiences might lead to different conceptions of justice. In the case of something as sensitive as outright rejection (note especially Q 10,13-15) of one’s carefully crafted message, we can imagine how eager the Q people might have been to put a new slant on their project, complete with divine intervention to justify their cause. Thus, it is no surprise that by the time we get to Q2, Q definitively “solves” the problem of rejection in a rather reactionary way – at least within the confines of the narrative. This suggests that Q’s experience of injustice, once filtered through the Israelite tradition and invested with rhetorical currency, could be better countered in the narrative realm than in the authors’ actual social world. If this development in Q is a reaction to the perceived rejection of its message, it makes sense to speak of Q (at least Q1) as an ideological failure.53 By “solving” the problem of injustice only at the Q2 level – that is, by invoking divine intervention to deal with the rejection of Q’s message – the initial social and economic injustice reflected (mostly) in Q1 is, unfortunately, tacitly accepted and not challenged in any meaningful way. The kingdom of God, at least as it imagined in Q 11,2b-4 and 12,22b-31, may have been a noble social vision, but it had few, if any, successful expressions in the real world. At the final stages of the document, it was no

53 Cf. ARNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes (see n. 49), p. 200; IDEM, Why Q Failed: From Ideological Project to Group Formation, in: R. Cameron/M. Miller (eds.), Redescribing Christian Origins (SBL Symposium Series 28), Atlanta, Ga.: Society of Biblical Literature 2004, pp. 67-87. Arnal argues that the social project behind Q was a failure, because it failed to invigorate the non-elites and also did little to attract the wealthy elites, who might be potential converts.

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longer important to argue for a new social vision, but only to vindicate the authors and penalize those who would reject them.

6. Concluding Remarks This essay underscores how important it is to use such non-Christian sources such as documentary papyri to flesh out the meaning of metaphors and concepts in the Sayings Gospel Q. Notions of justice and injustice are embedded in the very imagery that Q uses to persuade its audience to respond to its message. Although it is possible to try to access Q’s notion of justice by thinking about what is entailed in the kingdom of God, this yields far from definitive results. By coupling some ideas about the kingdom of God with the everyday scenarios in documentary papyri, we get more in touch with the way Q thinks the world works and also how it thinks the world should work. Q 6,29-30 and Q 12,58-59 are only two examples of how productive this comparison can be. That Q relies on such interesting forensic metaphors, which are attested so frequently in documentary papyri, suggests that these might be common metaphors for injustice, at least in the authors’ circles – surely losing one’s cloak to an opponent or being dragged to court would have gained little traction with wealthy, elite figures. While they are certainly metaphors of injustice at the narrative level of Q, their metaphorical currency hinges on their realistic occurrences in the social context of the authors and audience. As the Q people amassed more experiences, some of which notably did not accord with their expectations, they transformed experiences of injustice and rejection into situations that could be “solved” through imagining future divine judgment. But their initial solution, which was built on the confident expectation that individual intervention could express a new social vision, like so many other non-elite strategies for survival in the Roman world, appears to have failed.

Die protreptische, konnotative und performative Valeur der Gerichts- und Abgrenzungsmetaphorik in der Logienquelle Markus Tiwald Dieter Zeller – einer der Pioniere der Erforschung der Logienquelle – hat in seiner 1972 erschienenen Untersuchung zum Völkerwanderungsmotiv in Q 13 die These vertreten, dass für die Logienquelle der heilsgeschichtliche „Ausschluß der Juden besiegelt“1 sei und die „Verdammung Israels“2 bereits vollzogen.3 Etwas zurückhaltender, aber sachlich gleich, urteilt er in seinem 1984 erschienenen Kommentar zur Logienquelle: „Durch das Herbeiströmen der Völker verliert Israel seinen ihm eigentlich angestammten Anteil am Reich Gottes.“4 Dennoch spricht er hier auch von einem „letzten Appell“,5 der doch noch einmal an Israel ergehe. Allerdings: „Die Möglichkeit, daß es [sc. Israel] das Erbe des Reiches Gottes an die Heiden abtreten muß, verdichtet sich an einigen Stellen zur Gewissheit …“6 2001 ist er verdienstvoller Weise noch einmal auf die Thematik des Gerichts gegen Jerusalem (Q 13,34f.) zurückgekommen. Grund dafür waren Neubewertungen von Gerichtsworten in der Judaistik und der NTBibelwissenschaft: „Die Stimmen, die hier eine Hoffnung für die Haupt-

1

D. ZELLER, Das Logion Mt 8,11f/Lk 13,28f und das Motiv der „Völkerwallfahrt“, BZ 15 (1971), S. 222-237, 16 (1972), S. 84-93, S. 88. 2 ZELLER, Völkerwallfahrt (s. Anm. 1), S. 86. 3 Ähnlich etwa auch die Untersuchung zur frühchristlichen antijüdischen Polemik von N. N. A. BECK, Mündiges Christentum im 21. Jahrhundert: Die antijüdische Polemik des Neuen Testaments und ihre Überwindung (VIKJ 26), Berlin: Institut Kirche und Judentum 1998, S. 204, der über die Logienquelle schreibt: „… in ihr [ist] ohne Zweifel beachtliche antijüdische Polemik gegenwärtig.“ Q biete eine „breite Grundlage, auf der [sc. in den späteren Evangelien des Mt und Lk] zusätzliche antijüdische Vorurteile aufbauen und artikuliert werden konnten.“ 4 D. ZELLER , Kommentar zur Logienquelle (SKK.NT 21), Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk 1984, S. 87. 5 ZELLER, Logienquelle (s. Anm. 4), S. 87. 6 ZELLER, Logienquelle (s. Anm. 4), S. 96.

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stadt [sc. Jerusalem] heraushören, mehren sich“7 – begründet Zeller seine Rückkehr zum alten Thema und konstatiert eine gewisse Tendenz, „die Gerichtsworte von Q nicht als Verdammungsurteile, sondern als letzte Appelle zur Buße zu betrachten …“8 Interessant sind dabei seine Erörterungen zum 1. Henochbuch, zum deuteronomistischen Prophetengeschick und zu Ps 118,9 die ihn zu einer gewissen Modifikation der alten These führen: „Zwar vertieft sich der Bruch mit dem konkreten Israel, das in Jerusalem sein Zentrum hat“,10 doch andererseits reagieren die Propheten der Logienquelle „auf die erfahrene Ablehnung nicht mit einer entschlossenen missionarischen Hinwendung zu den Heiden“,11 sondern wenden sich nun – „nach ihrem Mißerfolg auf palästinischem Boden“12 – Diasporajuden in den „Städten Phöniziens und/oder Syriens“ 13 zu. „Die Prediger, die Q tradierten, gaben Israel jedenfalls noch eine Chance“14 – so das Resultat dieser Untersuchung.

1. Polemik als „boundary marker“ innerhalb des Frühjudentums Seit dieser letzten Stellungnahme Zellers sind die Untersuchungen zur Vielgestaltigkeit des Frühjudentums und zum Gebrauch mitunter recht heftiger Polemiken unterschiedlicher frühjüdischer Gruppierungen gegeneinander weiter fortgeschritten und werfen neues Licht auf die alte Thematik. Der textpragmatischen Funktion der Polemik wurde dabei verstärktes Augenmaß zuteil mit dem Schluss, dass die heftigen Polemiken rivalisierender frühjüdischer Gruppierungen stets auch die Funktion hatten, als „boundary marker“ die eigene Position in Abgrenzung zu anderen Gruppierungen zu unterstreichen. Auch wenn diese Polemiken in der Regel recht heftig ausfielen, zielten sie doch keineswegs auf einen grundsätzlichen Beziehungsabbruch mit den Gegnern ab. Einige Beispiele mögen das verdeutlichen:

7

D. ZELLER, Jesus, Q und die Zukunft Israels, in: A. Lindemann (Hg.), The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus (BEThL 158), Leuven: Peeters 2001, S. 351-369, S. 357. 8 ZELLER, Zukunft (s. Anm. 7), S. 354. 9 Vgl. ZELLER: Zukunft (s. Anm. 7), S. 357. 10 ZELLER , Zukunft (s. Anm. 7), S. 367. 11 ZELLER , Zukunft (s. Anm. 7), S. 367. 12 ZELLER , Zukunft (s. Anm. 7), S. 352. 13 ZELLER , Zukunft (s. Anm. 7), S. 352. 14 ZELLER , Zukunft (s. Anm. 7), S. 369.

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1.1. Tempelkritik in Qumran CD IV,15-1915 wirft den Tempelpriestern16 in Jerusalem vor, in die „drei Netze Belials“ gegangen zu sein: Unzucht, Reichtum und Verunreinigung des Heiligtums. Dabei wird klar, dass die inkriminierten Sachverhalte auf eine unterschiedliche Interpretation von Sexual- und Reinheitsvorschriften zurückgehen.17 Das Heiligtum verunreinigt zu haben (etwa CD V,6; VI,1119; etc.), ist dabei ein immer wiederkehrender Vorwurf gegen die Jerusalemer Priesterschaft. Obwohl die Qumrangemeinde den Tempel zwar nicht prinzipiell in Frage stellte und dorthin auch noch Weihegaben sandte, sprach man der Jerusalemer Tempelpriesterschaft vollkommen ab, mit ihrem Kult noch wirksame Sühne für Israel wirken zu können.18 CD VI,1119 betont, dass der Altar Gottes in Jerusalem vergebens angezündet wird, da sich die Priester nicht an die Lehren der „Mitglieder des neuen Bundes im Lande Damaskus“ halten. In 1QS VIII,3-14 (ergänzt durch 4Q258 und 4Q259) wird deutlich, dass die Qumraniten ihre eigene Gemeinschaft (den „Rat der Einung“) tatsächlich als einen Ersatz für die Sühnefunktion des Jerusalemer Tempels dachten.19 Die Fachtermini „sühnen“ (‫)כפר‬, „Haus 15

Die Zitation der Qumrantexte richtet sich hier und im Folgenden nach J. MAIER, Die Qumran-Essener: Die Texte vom Toten Meer (UTB 1862/1863), 2 Bde., München: Ernst Reinhardt Verlag 1995. Die hier verwendete Geniza-Fassung wurde von Maier durch verschiedene Fragmente aus den Qumran-Höhlen 4Q, 5Q und 6Q ergänzt. 16 Die Polemik richtet sich hier zwar nicht ausschließlich gegen die Tempelpriester, aber in einigen zentralen Punkten sind diese doch wesentlich (mit)gemeint. Dies geht schon aus dem einleitenden Zitat Ez 44,15 zu Beginn des Absatzes in CD IV,1 hervor sowie aus dem besonderen Vorwurf der „Verunreinigung des Heiligtums“, aber auch aus den spezifischen Sexual- und Reinheitsvorschriften (vgl. den Vorwurf der „Unzucht“), die an die Tempelpriesterschaft herangetragen werden. Man vergleiche nur die ganz ähnlich lautenden Vorwürfe der Unzucht, des ungerechten Reichtums und des Frevels in CD VIII,1-12, gerichtet gegen die „Fürsten von Judah“, mit denen hier klarerweise die Hasmonäer gemeint sind. Vgl. J. MAIER, Weitere Stücke zum Nahumkommentar aus der Höhle 4 von Qumran, Jud. 18 (1962), S. 215-250, S. 238f. 17 Vgl. dazu auch die Frage von Wiederheirat nach Ehescheidung, die in CD IV,21 und 11Q19 LVII,17-19 (nach 11Q19 LVII,1 als „Tora … für die Priester“ ausgewiesen) eine wesentlich strengere Richtung vorgibt als Dtn 24,1-3. 18 Vgl. Ant XVIII,18f: 18 Die Essener dagegen lehren, man müsse alles Gott anheim stellen. Sie lehren die Unsterblichkeit der Seele und geben den Lohn der Gerechtigkeit für das allerwünschenswertheste [sic] Gut aus. 19 Sie schicken in den Tempel Weihegeschenke, lassen aber kein Opfer darbringen, weil sie heiligere Reinigungen zu haben vorgeben; deswegen ist ihnen der Zutritt zum gemeinsamen Heiligthume [sic] verwehrt, und sie verrichten ihren Gottesdienst besonders (zitiert nach F. K AULEN, Flavius Josephus’ Jüdische Alterthümer, 3. Aufl. Köln: J. P. Bachem 1892). Siehe ebenso die Darstellung in Philos QuodOmnis 75. 19 Vgl. F. GARCÍA MARTÍNEZ, Les limites de la communauté: pureté et impureté à Qumrân et dans le Nouveau Testament, in: T. Baarda u.a. (Hgg.), Text and Testimony: Essays on New Testament and Apocryphal Literature, FS A. F. J. Klijn, Kampen: Kok

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der Heiligkeit für Israel“ (‫ )בית קודש לישראל‬und „Allerheiligstes für Aaron“ (‫ )קודש קודשים לאהרון‬werden hier für die Gemeinschaft verwendet. Diese Gemeinschaft hat sich bewusst abgesondert vom Jerusalemer Tempel, „dem Sitz der Männer des Unrechts (‫… )אנשי העול‬, um in die Wüste zu gehen, um dort den Weg des ER [wohl für den Gottesnamen] zu bahnen, wie geschrieben steht (Jes 40,3): In der Wüste bahnt den Weg des .... [vier Punkte statt des Tetragramms], macht gerade in der Steppe eine Straße für unseren Gott“ (1QS VIII,13f.). „For the members of the Qumran community, participation in the cult of the existing temple is out of the question, not only because the priesthood is unworthy, the calendar false and the cult defiled, but, more radically, because the existing temple and cult do not correspond to the norm revealed in 11QTemple, and this makes any compromise impossible.“20 – Trotz dieser massiv auseinanderklaffenden Sichtweisen handelte es sich nach Johann Maier allerdings nur um „eine Abwendung auf Zeit“.21 Das wird schon darin deutlich, dass der Tempel nicht grundsätzlich ersetzt wird, sondern lediglich einige seiner Sühnefunktionen stellvertretend von der Qumrangruppe übernommen werden.22 Trotz der mannigfachen und heftigen Polemiken zeigen auch Dokumente wie 4QMMT, dass man nach wie vor bemüht war, „einen Herrscher für die eigene Position zu gewinnen und so die Lage am Heiligtum zu ändern“.23 Die Qumraniten und die Jerusalemer Priesterschaft unterhielten trotz des heftigen Ringens um den eigenen Weg wohl auch noch weiterhin „auf innen- und außenpolitischem Gebiet ihr Beziehungsgeflecht“.24 Im Vergleich zur Tempelkritik der Qumraniten nimmt sich die tempelkritische Passage in Q 13,34f. wesentlich gemäßigter aus und geht nicht 1988, S. 111-122, S. 119, über die Reinigung von Sünden in den Qumrantexten: „Mais cette purification n’a plus lieu à l’intérieur du Temple ni à travers les sacrifices qui y sont offerts; elle s’obtient à l’intérieur de la communauté, le Temple nouveau dans lequel habite l’esprit de Dieu qui fait de la communauté un lieu de purification et de justification …“ 20 F. G ARCÍA MARTÍNEZ, Qumran and Apocalyptic: Studies on the Aramaic Texts from Qumran (StTDJ 9), Leiden: E. J. Brill 1992, S. 205f. 21 J. MAIER, Bausymbolik, Heiligtum und Gemeinde in den Qumrantexten, in: A. Vonach/R. Meßner (Hgg.), Volk Gottes als Tempel (Synagoge und Kirchen 1), Berlin: Lit Verlag 2008, S. 49-106, S. 66. 22 Vgl. MAIER, Bausymbolik, Heiligtum und Gemeinde (s. Anm. 21), S. 104: „Nicht der Tempel wird ersetzt, sondern einige seiner Funktionen.“ Damit sollte man Qumran „nicht als Ersatz-Tempelanlage“ definieren; allerdings wird der Gemeinschaft „eine Sühnefunktion zugeschrieben, die man dem Jerusalemer Tempel nicht mehr zutraute (CD V,6), wozu noch Äußerungen kommen, die von einer rituellen Verunreinigung des Jerusalemer Tempels sprechen“ (MAIER , aa.O.). 23 MAIER, Bausymbolik, Heiligtum und Gemeinde (s. Anm. 21), S. 66. 24 MAIER, Bausymbolik, Heiligtum und Gemeinde (s. Anm. 21), S. 66.

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über allgemein übliche Scheltworte alttestamentlicher Propheten gegen den Tempel hinaus.25 An Q 13,34f. einen bereits endgültig erfolgten Beziehungsabbruch der Q-Leute zum Tempel festmachen zu wollen, scheint auf dem Hintergrund der Qumranpolemik nun nur mehr schwer möglich. 1.2. Die Kritik der Qumrantexte an den Pharisäern Ein zweiter Blick sei auf die Verunglimpfung der Pharisäer in den Qumrantexten gerichtet: In 4Q169 I,2 und II,2 sowie in CD I,18 werden diese als „Ausleger von glatten Dingen“ (‫)דורשי החלקות‬26 gebrandmarkt. Dass es sich hierbei tatsächlich um die Pharisäer handelt, geht aus 4Q169 I,7 hervor, wo der „Löwe des Zornes“ als „Racheakte an denen, die glatte Anweisungen geben … Menschen lebendig aufhängen läßt“. Dies bezieht sich wohl auf die von Josephus in Ant 13,380 erwähnte Kreuzigung von 800 Pharisäern durch Alexander Jannai,27 da diese König Demetrios III. Eukairos gegen Alexander zu Hilfe gerufen hatten. Im Wortspiel ‫דורשי‬ ‫„( החלקות‬Ausleger von glatten Dingen“) werden die „Halachot“ (‫)הלכות‬ der Pharisäer zu „glatten Dingen“ (‫ )חלקות‬verballhornt: Die Qumraniten werfen den Pharisäern vor, sich ihre Halacha bequem glattgeschliffen zu haben. In CD VIII,12f. werden die Pharisäer weiters als „Tünche25

Vgl. dazu M. T IWALD, Hat Gott sein Haus verlassen (vgl. Q 13,35)? – Das Verhältnis der Logienquelle zum Frühjudentum, in: Ders. (Hg.), Kein Jota wird vergehen: Das Gesetzesverständnis der Logienquelle vor dem Hintergrund frühjüdischer Theologie (BWANT 200), Stuttgart: Kohlhammer 2012, S. 69-76. Ebenso M. KARRER, Christliche Gemeinde und Israel: Beobachtungen zur Logienquelle, in: P. Mommer u.a. (Hgg.), Gottes Recht als Lebensraum, FS H. J. Boecker, Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag 1993, S. 145-163, S. 146, der eher auf die positiven Tempelbezüge der Logienquelle abhebt und zum Schluss kommt: „Ja, wir suchen in Q überhaupt vergebens nach Tempelkritik.“ Ähnlich auch D. C. A LLISON J R., Matt. 23:39 = Luke 13:35b as a Conditional Prophecy, JSNT 18 (1983), S. 75-84, S. 76, der Q 13,35b als „a straightforward declaration of salvation“ interpretiert – m.E. zu Recht; vgl. TIWALD, a.a.O., S. 72-76. 26 Vgl. J. VANDERKAM/P. FLINT, The Meaning of the Dead Sea Scrolls: Their Significance for Understanding the Bible, Judaism, Jesus, and Christianity, San Francisco, Ca.: Harper 2002, S. 276-280; ebenso J. VANDERKAM, The Pharisees and the Dead Sea Scrolls, in: J. Neusner/B. D. Chilton (Hgg.), In Quest of the Historical Pharisees, Waco, Tex.: Baylor University Press 2007, S. 225-236. Siehe auch M. TIWALD, Hebräer von Hebräern: Paulus auf dem Hintergrund frühjüdischer Argumentation und biblischer Interpretation (HBS 52), Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder 2008, S. 375-377. 27 In Ant 13,380 ist zwar nicht expressis verbis die Rede von Pharisäern, aber durch den Kontext legt sich solch eine Schlussfolgerung nahe. Vgl. dazu: MAIER, Weitere Stücke zum Nahumkommentar (s. Anm. 16), S. 244f., ebenso G. STEMBERGER , Pharisäer, Sadduzäer, Essener (SBS 144), Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk 1991, S. 99-104, 117, und V ANDERK AM, The Pharisees and the Dead Sea Scrolls (s. Anm. 26), S. 228-233.

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schmierer“, „Windwäger“ und „Lügenprediger“ beschimpft. 28 Dort findet sich auch die Verspottung der Pharisäer als „Erbauer einer schadhaften Mauer“ (‫)בוני החיץ‬. Das stellt eine Anspielung auf Ez 13,10 für falsche, das Volk irreführende Lehrer dar.29 Dies alles erinnert an die Weherufe gegen Pharisäer in Q 11,39-52, wo diese bezichtigt werden, eine falsche Gesetzesauslegung zu praktizieren und wie die unkenntlichen Gräber die Menschen irrezuführen. Maier vergleicht sogar die Polemik der Qumraniten gegen Pharisäer mit der Kritik des Neuen Testaments an ebendiesen und kommt zum Ergebnis: „Viele der erhobenen Vorwürfe sind stereotyp verwendete Elemente der religiösen Polemik überhaupt und lassen in keiner Weise auf die Gegner schließen.… Wenn die Qumrantexte gegenüber den Pharisäern ähnliche Vorwürfe erheben wie die christliche Urgemeinde, so bedeutet dies keineswegs eine echte Bereicherung unseres Wissens über die Pharisäer, sondern nur über die Mentalität ihrer Gegner.“30 1.3. Eschatologisches Offenbarungswissen In 1QpHab II,1-10 heißt es in einer Interpretation („Pescher“) zu Hab 1,5: 1 … [Seine Deutung bezieht sich auf die] Verräter mit dem Mann 2 der Lüge, denn sie haben nic[ht gehört auf die Worte] des Anweisers der Gerechtigkeit aus dem Mund 3 Gottes. Und auf die Verrä[ter am Bund], dem neuen, denn sie haben sich [nic]ht 4 als gläubig bewährt im Bund Gottes [und entweihten] den Nam[en] Seiner Heiligkeit. 5 Und wahrlich – [(leer)] die Deutung des Wortes bezieht sich [auf alle die Verr]äter am Ende 6 der Tage. Sie sind Gewalttät[er am Bun]de, die nicht glauben 7, wenn sie all das hören, was da ko[mmen wird über] die letzte Generation aus dem Mund 8 des Priesters, dem Gott in [sein Herz Wisse]n gegeben hat, zu deuten all [d]ie 9 Worte Seiner Propheten, [durch d]ie Gott aufgezählt hat 10 all das, was über Sein Volk kommt und [Sein Land. …]

Diese Passagen weisen eine gewisse Ähnlichkeit mit den Klagen der Logienquelle über den Unglauben von „dieser Generation“31 auf. Während in Q 11,29-32 „diese Generation“ nicht auf die Worte Jesu gehört hat und daher als „böse“ gebrandmarkt wird, werden in Qumran die „Verräter am Neuen Bund“ verurteilt, „denn sie haben nicht gehört auf die Worte des Anweisers der Gerechtigkeit aus dem Mund Gottes.“ Die Worte des Anweisers der Gerechtigkeit werden hier gleichgesetzt mit den Worten „aus dem Mund Gottes“, schließlich hat „Gott in sein Herz Wissen gegeben … 28 Dass diese Beleidigungen tatsächlich an die Adresse der Pharisäer gerichtet sind, hat MAIER, Weitere Stücke zum Nahumkommentar (s. Anm. 16), S. 239, nachgewiesen. 29 Vgl. STEMBERGER, Pharisäer, Sadduzäer, Essener (s. Anm. 27), S. 117f. 30 MAIER, Weitere Stücke zum Nahumkommentar (s. Anm. 16), S. 248f. 31 Zur Frage, wer mit „dieser Generation“ gemeint ist, vgl. TIWALD, Hat Gott sein Haus verlassen (vgl. Q 13,35)? (s. Anm. 25), S. 79f.

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zu deuten all die Worte Seiner Propheten“ und kundzutun, „was da kommen wird über die letzte Generation“. Ähnlich sieht Q 10,21f. die Funktion Jesu, dem vom „Vater alles übergeben ist“ und der in authentischer Weise den eschatologischen Ratschluss Gottes zu deuten vermag. Die Ungläubigen werden in Qumran als „Gewalttäter am Bunde“ vorgeführt, wobei offen bleibt, ob es sich hier um konkrete Gewalttaten handelt oder nur um metaphorische Redeweise. Ähnlich vage verbleibt ja auch die Logienquelle in ihren Verweisen auf drohende Prophetenmorde (11,49) und der Ansage, jene nicht zu fürchten, „die den Leib töten“ (12,4). Das Fehlen konkreter Beispiele solcher Verfolgungen legt wohl nahe, dass diese Aussagen rhetorisch-hyperbolischen Mustern geschuldet sind, in denen sich die Ungeheuerlichkeit der Zurückweisung verdichtet. 1.4. Jüdische Parteienbildungen im Zeugnis von Flavius Josephus Die starke Zerrissenheit der unterschiedlichen Parteien in Israel spiegelt sich auch im Zeugnis des Josephus wieder, der interessanterweise pharisäer-freundliche und pharisäer-kritische Texte aus seinen Quellen übernimmt und recht unverbunden nebeneinander stehen lässt.32 In Ant 17,41 wirft er den Pharisäern vor, sich selbst als besonders gewissenhaft in der Auslegung der Überlieferungen und Gesetze einzuschätzen (ἐπ᾽ ἐξακριβώσει µέγα φρονοῦν τοῦ πατρίου καὶ νόµων), doch dabei das Wohlwollen Gottes an diesen Gesetzen nur „vorzutäuschen“ (προσποιουµένων), um damit das „Frauenvolk“ (ἡ γυναικωνῖτις) unter ihren Einfluss zu bringen, sowie zum Kriegführen und zur Gewalttat bereit zu sein (εἰς τὸ πολεµεῖν τε καὶ βλάπτειν ἐπηρµένοι). Das Intrigenspiel der Pharisäer wird in Ant 13,401-423 vor Augen geführt: „[S]ie sind gefährliche Unruhestifter mit größtem Einfluß im Volk, Heuchler ohne eigene Meinung, wenn sie nur die Macht erlangen. Diese mißbrauchen sie zur Verfolgung der politischen Gegner …“33 Hier findet man den Vorwurf der Machtgier und Ehrsucht wieder, der auch in Q 11,43 begegnet (Pharisäer wollen die Ehrensitze in Synagogen und lieben ehrerbietiges Grüßen auf den Marktplätzen), wie 32 Vgl. STEMBERGER, Pharisäer, Sadduzäer, Essener (s. Anm. 27), S. 19. – Dass Josephus selber ein Pharisäer gewesen sei, geht somit weder aus Tendenzen seines Gesamtwerkes noch aus der vielzitierten Notiz in Vita 12 hervor. Wenn es dort heißt: ἠρξάµην τε πολιτεύεσθαι τῇ Φαρισαίων αἱρέσει κατακολουθῶν, so wird damit lediglich von einer pragmatischen Orientierung in politischen Entscheidungen im Sinne der Pharisäer gesprochen. Wenn man bedenkt, dass Pharisäer beim Aufstand gegen die Römer führend waren, meint dies wohl, dass sich Josephus zunächst den Aufständischen anschloss. Seine hier genannte Orientierung an den Pharisäern war für den aus adeliger Priesterfamilie stammenden Josephus nur eine politische (wie das πολιτεύεσθαι nahelegt), keine religiöse. Vgl. dazu STEMBERGER , a.a.O., S. 10f. und 21. 33 STEMBERGER , Pharisäer, Sadduzäer, Essener (s. Anm. 27), S. 16.

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auch den Vorwurf der Verfolgung politischer Gegner, der in Q im Prophetenmord-Motiv (Q 11,47-51) zum Tragen kommt. 1.5. Innerjüdische Spannungen im Zeugnis der Apostelgeschichte Nach Apg 23,6-10 spielt Paulus Sadduzäer und Pharisäer anhand der Frage der Totenauferstehung gegeneinander aus – der Tumult wird so stark, dass die römische Wachtruppe eingreifen muss. Die Erzählung – gleich ob historisch oder der Feder des Lukas entflossen – schildert jedenfalls authentisch, wie stark die Spannungen zwischen den unterschiedlichen Religionsparteien im damaligen Palästina werden konnten, sodass man auch vor Handgreiflichkeiten nicht zurückschreckte. 1.6. Einheit trotz Spannungen Angesichts der scharfen Polemik rivalisierender Bewegungen im Frühjudentum, die sogar bis zur Gewaltanwendung gehen konnte, verwundert es aus heutiger Sicht einigermaßen, dass sich diese konkurrierenden Parteiungen trotz allem noch als eine übergreifende Einheit verstanden. Dennoch war gerade dies der Fall, wie Günter Stemberger anmerkt: „Daß aber im Aufstand [sc. gegen die Römer im Jahre 66] Pharisäer und Sadduzäer, Essener und Zeloten sich zu einer, wenn auch noch so brüchigen Aktionsgemeinschaft bereit fanden, zeigt jedenfalls, daß man sich über Schulgrenzen hinweg noch immer als das eine Israel empfand.“34

2. Polemik als protreptisches Genus frühjüdischer Apokalyptik In letzter Zeit haben sich besonders George Nickelsburg,35 Luke Johnson36 und John Marshall37 ausführlich mit innerjüdischer Polemik z. Z. des Zweiten Tempels beschäftigt. Besonders Marshall sieht hier einen Zusammenhang mit der damaligen Apokalyptik: Apokalyptik ist ein 34

STEMBERGER , Pharisäer, Sadduzäer, Essener (s. Anm. 27), S. 128. G. W. E. NICKELSBURG , Revealed Wisdom as a Criterion for Inclusion and Exclusion: From Jewish Sectarianism to Early Christianity, in: J. Neusner/E. S. Frerichs (Hgg.), „To See Ourselves as Others See Us“: Christians, Jews, „Others“ in Late Antiquity (SPSHS), Chico, Calif.: Scholars Press 1985, S. 73-91. 36 L. T. J OHNSON, The New Testament’s Anti-Jewish Slander and the Conventions of Ancient Polemic, JBL 108 (1989), S. 419-441. 37 J. MARSHALL, Apocalypticism and Anti-Semitism: Inner-Group Resources for Inter-group Conflicts, in: J. S. Kloppenborg/J. W. Marshall (Hgg.), Apocalypticism, Anti-Semitism and the Historical Jesus: Subtexts in Criticism (JSNT.S 275), London: T & T Clark 2005, S. 68-82. 35

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Krisenphänomen, das angesichts eines unmittelbar bevorstehend gedachten Endes der Zeit den Druck erhöht, nun im Eschaton die unmittelbar bindende und ultimativ verpflichtende Interpretation des Gotteswillens propagieren zu müssen. „Apocalyptic prophetic action – because it raises the stakes so high, because it sets the problems it addresses in such a context of surpassing value – is not conciliatory within a social context …“38 Klarerweise führt dies zu einer „intensification of in-group conflict that characterizes a significant strand of that literature …“39 Das heißt: „The righteous are absolutely right. Opponents of the author/prophet are cast as opponents of God, as colleagues of the devil, as the damned.“40 Dieser Absolutheitsanspruch apokalyptischer Bewegungen ergibt sich zweifelsohne aus der soziopolitischen Krisensituation, in der diese Bewegungen entstanden: der Kampf der Makkabäer und später der Hasmonäer gegen die als fremd empfundene Seleukidenherrschaft, dann die Auflehnung gegen die Dominanz der Römer.41 Der durch die Hellenisierungspolitik in die Bevölkerung getragene Riss führte zu Gruppenbildungen und heftigen Kontroversen. In dieser gesellschaftlichen Zerrissenheit und Unsicherheit der tradierten Werte gehen laut Nickelsburg Weisheit und Apokalyptik ein Bündnis miteinander ein. Diese beiden ursprünglich diametral entgegengesetzten Denkrichtungen führen nun zur Erwartung einer von Gott gesandten eschatologischen Offenbarung, durch die „eschatological wisdom about God’s Law“42 verkündet wird: „[W]isdom is mediated through an eschatological revelation possessed by the chosen. Outsiders are damned because they lack or reject the revelation that enables them properly to observe divine Law and to read the signs of the times.“43 Diese endzeitliche Offenbarung kann nun durch einen bestimmten Seher geschehen (wie in der Henochliteratur, im 4. Esrabuch oder in der Offenbarung des Johannes) oder durch eine heilsrelevante Mittlergestalt (wie den Lehrer der Gerechtigkeit in Qumran, Jesus von Nazaret oder – mit gewissen Abstrichen – auch den Geliebten Jünger im Johannesevangelium oder besondere Offenbarungsträger in der späteren gnostischen Literatur). Außenseiter, die diese Offenbarung nicht annehmen, werden mit der Verdammung bedroht. Dabei verweist Johnson 38

MARSHALL, Apocalypticism and Anti-Semitism (s. Anm. 37), S. 71. MARSHALL, Apocalypticism and Anti-Semitism (s. Anm. 37), S. 71. 40 MARSHALL, Apocalypticism and Anti-Semitism (s. Anm. 37), S. 71. 41 Vgl. C. ROWLAND, Apocalypticism, in: J. Collins/D. C. Harlow (Hgg.), The Eerdmans Dictionary of Early Judaism, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 2010, S. 345348, S. 347, wobei die von der Apokalyptik aufgeworfenen Fragen keineswegs nur Themen sozial-marginalisierter Randschichten waren, sondern oft von der gebildeten Oberschicht mitgetragen wurden. 42 NICKELSBURG, Revealed Wisdom as a Criterion (s. Anm. 35), S. 78. 43 NICKELSBURG, Revealed Wisdom as a Criterion (s. Anm. 35), S. 89. 39

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besonders auf den protreptischen Charakter der Polemik: „The purpose for the polemic is not so much the rebuttal of the opponent as the edification of one’s own school. Polemic was primarily for internal consumption.“44 Ähnlich wie im Wettstreit philosophischer Schulen soll der logos protreptikos die Fehler der anderen aufzeigen, um für die eigene Sache Werbung zu machen.45 Der antike logos protreptikos weist damit gewisse Berührungspunkte mit der heutzutage vielbeschworenen „Wahlkampfrhetorik“ von Politikern auf: Vertreter verschiedener Parteien, die vor laufender Fernsehkamera erbittert übereinander herfallen, haben kein Problem damit, privat miteinander ein gemütliches Bier zu trinken! Die „Schaukampfmentalität“ solcher Diskurse macht klar, dass manches an dieser Polemik nur rhetorischem Wortgeklingel geschuldet ist. Von aufmerksamen Beobachtern wird dieses genus litterarium – ähnlich wie die nicht minder ominösen Wahlversprechen von Politikern – gar nicht mehr so ernst genommen. Damit wird klar: „the conventional nature of the polemic means that its chief rhetorical import is connotative rather than denotative.“46 Es geht also nicht nur darum, denotativ eine objektive Information weiterzugeben, sondern konnotativ mit dieser Nachricht Gefühle und Empfindungen zu wecken. Kurz: Der Hörer soll von der eigenen Botschaft überzeugt, auf die eigene Seite gezogen und mit Abscheu gegen die andere Gruppierung erfüllt werden. Damit haben solche Polemiken stets auch einen performativen und weniger einen informativen Charakter. Performative Formulierungen sind uns ja hinlänglich aus den Gerichtsandrohungen der alttestamentlichen Prophetie vertraut: Hier will der Prophet ja auch nicht über ein unabwendbar bevorstehendes Geschick voraussagend informieren – so das landläufige Missverständnis, dass ein „Prophet“ Ereignisse der Zukunft als sicher zutreffend „vorhersagt“. Alttestamentliche Propheten wollten kein Zukunftsorakel bieten, sondern vielmehr einen Gesinnungswandel im Hörer „performieren“. Will man dem genus litterarium der Logienquelle gerecht werden, so muss man Q wohl als apokalyptisch geprägte Weisheitsrede von Propheten verstehen; die oben genannten Haftpunkte für Polemik in der apokalyptischen Weisheitstheologie und der eschatologischen Prophetenrede sind für Q in jedem Fall zutreffend. In genau dieser Weise interpretiert daher 44 JOHNSON, Slander (s. Anm. 36), S. 433, der hier von „protreptic use of polemics“ spricht. 45 Vgl. D. AUNE, Romans as a Logos Protreptikos, in: K. P. Donfried (Hg.), The Romans Debate. Revised and Expanded Edition, Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1991, S. 278296, S. 278: „… used to attract adherents by exposing the errors of alternative ways of living by demonstrating the truth claims of a particular philosophical tradition over its competitors.“ Die Parallele zwischen jüdischer Weisheitsliteratur und dem logos protreptikos wird von A UNE, a.a.O., S. 284, gezogen. 46 JOHNSON, Slander (s. Anm. 36), S. 441.

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auch William Arnal die Polemik der Logienquelle als „burlesque“47 und als innerjüdischen Streit: „… Q is a window into the history of a peculiar group of Jewish Jesus people.“48 Denn: „The people responsible for this document identify themselves as Jews (though not using this particular term), and at no point does it appear that they cease doing so.“49 Zu ähnlichen Schlüssen gelangt auch Martin Karrer: In der Logienquelle „tritt uns ein Traditionsträger vor Augen, der seinem Selbstverständnis nach in die Tradition des einen Gottesvolks gehört. Bis in junge Redaktionsschicht lebt er mit Tempel- und Heiligtumsvorstellungen Israels.… [I]n aller Orientierung an Israel ruft Q das Gottesvolk zur Umkehr als Hinwendung zu Jesus im heiligen Geist.“50 Dieser Aufruf zum Glauben an Jesus bewirkt allerdings noch keinen Bruch mit dem nicht-jesusgläubigen Judentum, sondern erinnert eher an die Positionsbestimmung anderer frühjüdischer Gruppierungen. Gerade in apokalyptisch orientierten Kreisen des Frühjudentums waren ja heilsrelevante Seher oder Mittlergestalten keine Seltenheit.

3. Henochs Epistel aus dem ersten Henochbuch Um die Polemik der Logienquelle gegen nicht-jesusgläubige Gruppierungen im Frühjudentum besser in den Kontext innerjüdischer Rivalitäten z. Z. des Zweiten Tempels einordnen zu können, kann besonders ein Vergleich mit „Henochs Epistel“ (1 Hen 92,1-5; 93,11–105,251) des 1. Henochbuchs hilfreich sein. Der Autor der Henochepistel, deren Entstehung von Stuckenbruck in Palästina knapp vor dem Makkabäeraufstand verortet wird,52 sieht sich in einer Linie mit den alttestamentlichen Propheten, in deren Nachfolge er unter dem Namen des biblischen Henoch

47 W. E. ARNAL, The Q Document, in: M. Jackson-McCabe (Hg.), Jewish Christianity Reconsidered: Rethinking Ancient Groups and Texts, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2007, S. 119-154, S. 150. 48 ARNAL, Q (s. Anm. 47), S. 150. 49 ARNAL, Q (s. Anm. 47), S. 138. 50 KARRER, Gemeinde (s. Anm. 25), S. 162f. 51 So die Abgrenzung bei L. T. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (CEJL), Berlin: Walter De Gruyter 2007, S. 3. Der hier zitierte Text orientiert sich an der Gliederung, die Stuckenbruck vornimmt und gibt die deutsche Übersetzung von S. UHLIG , Das äthiopische Henochbuch (JSHRZ 5/6), Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 1984, S. 461-780, wieder. 52 Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch (s. Anm. 51), S. 215. Siehe ebd. die Diskussion möglicher alternativer Datierungen.

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Weherufe gegen rivalisierende frühjüdische Gruppierungen richtet.53 Dabei wird Henoch gleich zu Beginn als Schriftgelehrter und vollendeter Weisheitslehrer stilisiert (vgl. 1 Hen 92,154), sowie als apokalyptisch-endzeitlicher Offenbarungsträger, dem Einsicht in das „Geheimnis“ Gottes, die „Tafeln des Himmels“ und das „heilige Buch“ zuteil wurde (1 Hen 102,2). Die Parallelen zur Logienquelle liegen auf der Hand: Auch diese hat eine apokalyptisch-weisheitliche Grundausrichtung, die den Propheten Jesus (vgl. „Prophetengeschick“ Q 11,49-51) als endzeitlichen Offenbarungsträger (vgl. Q 10,21-24) in den Mittelpunkt stellt, und wurde wahrscheinlich von Schriftgelehrten in Nordpalästina („village scribes“55) verfasst (immerhin lassen sich nach Nickelsburg auch Teile der Henochtradition mit Nordpalästina/Galiläa in Verbindung bringen56). Dabei bedient sich auch die Logienquelle zur Widerlegung rivalisierender Gruppierungen des literarischen Genus der Weherufe und Seligpreisungen (Weherufe in Q 10,13; 11,42.43.44.46.47.52; Seligpreisungen in Q 6,20-23 und 10,23). Dass zwischen der Entstehung der Henochepistel und der Logienquelle etwa zweihundert Jahre zeitlicher Distanz liegen, muss nicht schwer wiegen. Wie die Qumrantexte belegen, war die Henochepistel auch später noch eine nach wie vor aktuelle und wirkmächtige Schrift;57 das Henochmaterial wurde auch noch von den Zeitgenossen der Logienquelle neuen Relecturen unterzogen.58 Wie schon angemerkt, dominiert in der

53

Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 197: „In adopting this form [sc. woe-oracles], he places himself in the line of the biblical prophets who had pronounced woe-oracles against the disobedient of Israel (Isa. 3:9, 11; 10:1–2, 5; 28:1–3; Jer. 22:13; 23:1; Ezek. 6:11; 13:3; 16:23; 24:6, 9; Amos 6:1, 4–6; Hos. 7:13; Mic. 2:1; Hab. 2:6, 9, 12, 15, 19) and other nations (Isa. 10:5; Jer. 48:46; Zeph. 2:5) who were regarded as a threat to God’s people.“ Siehe auch S TUCKENBRUCK, a.a.O., S. 216. 54 Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 219: „The role of Enoch as ‚scribe‘ is widespread in the early Enoch tradition …“ – so auch in 1 Hen 92,1 (anders aber die Übersetzung von Uhlig). Vgl. dazu aber ebenso G. W. E. NICKELSBURG , 1 Enoch 1: A Commentary on the Book of 1 Enoch (Hermeneia), Chapters 1-36; 81-108, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2001, S. 65: „The Enochic authors refer to Enoch as ‚scribe‘ (12:3; 92:1) …“ 55 Vgl. W. E. ARNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes: Galilean Conflicts and the Setting of Q, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2001, S. 159. 56 Vgl. NICKELSBURG , 1 Enoch (s. Anm. 54), S. 65, der sich hier besonders auf 1 Hen 6–16 bezieht und für diese Teile mit einer Abfassung in „Upper Galilee“ rechnet. 57 4Q212 (= 4QEng ar) enthält Teile der Henochepistel in aramäischer Sprache und wird von MAIER, Die Qumran-Essener (s. Anm. 15), S. 2:164, in die Mitte des 1. Jh. v. Chr. datiert. Vgl. dazu auch NICKELSBURG, 1 Enoch (s. Anm. 54), S. 114f. Die Wirkmächtigkeit der Henochepistel zeigt sich u.a. auch darin, dass sie sogar den Autor des ebenfalls sehr wirkmächtigen Jubiläenbuchs inspirierte, vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 215. 58 So sind die „Bildreden“ dem 1 Hen erst im 1. Jh. n. Chr. zugewachsen.

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Schrift das Genus der Wehereden,59 anhand derer man den ganzen Brief auch in acht Durchgänge von Weherufen gliedern kann. In der Zuordnung dieser Weherufe an unterschiedlichste „Sünder“ stechen markante Parallelen zur Logienquelle ins Auge. 3.1. Soziale Spannungen Spannungen zwischen Arm und Reich ziehen sich wie ein roter Faden durch Henochs Epistel.60 Aber auch in der Logienquelle werden die Gegner als sozial Bessergestellte gezeichnet, hinter den religiösen Rivalitäten brechen starke soziale Ungerechtigkeiten auf.61 So werden im Henochbrief diejenigen mit einem „Wehe“ belegt, „die Gold und Silber erwerben“ (94,7), „das Beste vom Weizen verzehren“ und die Niedrigen mit ihrer Macht niedertreten (96,5). „Wehe euch Reichen“ heißt es in 94,8, „denn ihr habt auf euren Reichtum vertraut, aber aus eurem Reichtum werdet ihr heraus müssen, weil ihr in den Tagen eures Reichtums nicht an den Höchsten gedacht habt.“ Und in 97,7-9 hören wir: „Wehe euch, die ihr Gold und Silber – (und) das ohne Gerechtigkeit – erwerbt und sagt: ‚Wir haben Reichtum angesammelt und haben Schätze und besitzen alles, was wir wollen. Und nun wollen wir ausführen, was wir geplant haben, denn wir haben Silber gesammelt, und unsere Vorratshäuser sind gefüllt, und zahlreich wie Wasser sind die Feldarbeiter unserer Häuser.‘“62 Das erinnert an die Weherufe der Logienquelle gegen die Pharisäer, die „voll Raub und Gier“ (Q 11,39) gezeichnet werden, die ehrerbietiges Grüßen und Ehrenplätze beanspruchen (Q 11,43) und die in Kontrast stehen zu den Armen und Hungernden, die von Jesus selig gepriesen werden (Q 6,20f.). Ähnlich werden auch in 1 Hen 108,8 diejenigen gepriesen, „die Gott lieben und 59

Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 193 („Woe-Oracles“). Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 548: „… circumstances of social underprivilege and oppression (as is clear from statements about the righteous throughout the Epistle) …“ Ebenso N ICKELSBURG, 1 Enoch (s. Anm. 54), S. 426f. 61 Vgl. die von G. THEIßEN, Die Jesusbewegung: Sozialgeschichte einer Revolution der Werte, Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2004, S. 131-241, vertretene These, dass soziale Entwurzelung zum Phänomen des „Wanderradikalismus“ führte. Zur These der sozialen Entwurzelung im damaligen Palästina siehe ebenso M. TIWALD, Wanderradikalismus: Jesu erste Jünger – ein Anfang und was davon bleibt (ÖBS 20), Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang 2002, S. 40-64. W. E. ARNAL, The Rhetoric of Marginality: Apocalypticism, Gnosticism, and Sayings Gospels, HThR 88 (1995), S. 485-492, lokalisiert ebenfalls den Ursprung der Q-Polemik in einer „rhetoric of marginality“ (wie ja schon der Titel seines Beitrags nahelegt), denn „increased exploitation of the countryside and peasantry by the urban elites contributed to considerable social disintegration and economic distress …“ (A RNAL, a.a.O., 491f.). 62 Ähnlich wie der reiche Kornbauer in Lk 12,16-21 verlassen sich hier die Reichen auf ihre gefüllten Vorratshäuser. 60

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nicht Silber und Gold geliebt haben noch alle Güter, die in der Welt (sind) …“. 3.2. Eschatologische Weisheit versus Weisheit etablierter Schichten Die angeprangerten „Sünder“ scheinen dabei nicht nur aus den ökonomisch dominanten, sondern auch aus den religiös angesehenen Schichten zu stammen: „Wehe euch, ihr Sünder, denn euer Reichtum läßt euch als Gerechte erscheinen, aber euer Herz beweist euch, daß ihr Sünder seid …“ (1 Hen 96,4). Und in 103,5f. hören wir: „Wehe euch, ihr toten Sünder, wenn ihr sterbt in dem Reichtum eurer Sünde, werden die, die euch gleich sind, sagen: ‚Selig sind die Sünder, alle ihre Tage haben sie gesehen! Und nun sind sie in Wohlstand und Reichtum gestorben, und Not und Tod haben sie in ihrem Leben nicht gesehen; in Herrlichkeit sind sie gestorben, und ein Gericht geschah in ihrem Leben nicht an ihnen.‘“ Wahrscheinlich kommen die inkriminierten „Sünder“ sogar aus den religiösen Eliten, denn sie sind es, die „das Wort der Wahrheit vielfach verdrehen und übertreten, böse Reden führen, lügen, große Werke schaffen und Bücher über ihre Reden verfassen“ (1 Hen 104,10). Mit dem äußeren Anschein der Gerechtigkeit und Ehre, dem Bücherschreiben und Lehren allerdings kontrastiert ihre innere Hohlheit: Den Mächtigen fehlt es an „Lehre und Weisheit“ (98,3), denn auf die wirklich Weisen haben sie nicht gehört (98,9). Daher werden ihre Bücher und Lehren in der Endzeit auch keinen Bestand haben, sondern nur das, was von den wirklich Weisen stammt (104,10-13). Ähnlich wird auch in der Logienquelle nur den „Unmündigen“ (10,21) Gottes Weisheit zuteil, während sie „Weisen und Gebildeten verborgen“ bleibt. So hat auch „diese Generation“ Johannes und Jesus verachtet, während doch beide als Kinder der Weisheit von Gott legitimiert wurden (Q 7,31-35). Lediglich diejenigen, „die die Weisheitsrede annehmen und sie verstehen“ (1 Hen 99,10) werden gerettet werden. So sind in 1 Hen 94,2 auch nur „bestimmte Menschen“ ausersehen, die „Wege des Unrechts und des Todes“ offenbart zu bekommen. Nach 102,2 wurde Henoch nämlich das endzeitliche „Geheimnis“, die „Tafeln des Himmels“ und das „heilige Buch“, geoffenbart. Dass es sich dabei um unterschiedliche Interpretationen des jüdischen Gesetzes handelt – und damit wirklich um Rivalitäten unterschiedlicher frühjüdischer Schulen – belegt auch 1 Hen 98,14f.: „Wehe euch, die ihr die Rede der Gerechten für nutzlos erklärt, denn ihr werdet keine Hoffnung auf Leben haben. Wehe euch, die ihr Lügenworte und Worte der Gottlosen niederschreibt, denn sie schreiben die Lügen auf, damit man sie höre und das andere vergesse …“ Die inkriminierten „Frevler“ sind also nicht nur hedonistische Ungläubige, sondern ihrerseits ebenfalls Theologen: Sie vertreten eigene prononcierte Glaubenslehren, die sie sogar in Büchern niederlegen, um die Lehren ihrer Rivalen zu wider-

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legen.63 Der Knackpunkt dieser Streitigkeiten liegt – einmal mehr – in der bindenden Interpretation der Tora und dem Absolutheitsanspruch, der der eigenen Lehre beigemessen wird: „Wehe euch, die die Worte der Wahrheit verdrehen und das ewige Gesetz übertreten und sich selbst für unfehlbar halten …“ (1 Hen 99,2). Hier also prallen unterschiedliche Lehrmeinungen über die Tora aufeinander, deren Vertreter sich jeweils „selbst für unfehlbar halten“ (1 Hen 99,2).64 Loren Stuckenbruck schreibt dazu: „More than any section in the Epistle thus far, this passage suggests the theological character of some of the differences between the author’s community and the opponents. These differences stem from conflicting sapiential perspectives through which their traditions are interpreted.“65 Die Aussage in 1 Hen 95,5: „Wehe euch, die ihr Verfluchungen ausstoßt, die nicht zu lösen sind …“ legt nahe, dass diese Kreise auch die Macht besaßen, unliebsame Abweichler sozial und religiös zu ächten. Das erinnert wiederum an die Q-Polemik gegen Pharisäer/Gesetzeslehrer, denen in 11,52 vorgeworfen wird, das Gottesreich vor den Menschen zu „verschließen“ und durch ihre falschen Lehren die Menschen daran zu hindern, in dieses Gottesreich „hineinzugehen“. So wie Henochs Lehren für den Autor der Epistula also zum articulus stantis et cadentis der Erlösung werden, so stilisiert auch Q 6,47-49 die Worte Jesu zum einzigen Fundament: Jeder, der diese Worte hört und tut, hat auf Fels gebaut, wer die Worte nicht befolgt, hat auf Sand gebaut. Ähnlich auch 1 Hen 94,7, wo die Häuser der Sünder aus ihrem Fundament gerissen werden, und 99,14: „Wehe euch, die ihr den Grundstein und das ewige Erbteil der Väter verachtet …“ Erst die theologischen Erben der Logienquelle, Mt 21,42 und Lk 20,17, werden in Anlehnung an Mk 12,10 dieses Wort vom Grundstein/

63

Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 360: „Unlike the previous woe-oracles, this section is not concerned with the opponents’ wealth or social oppression; instead, the invectives focus more on their distortion of what the writer holds to be true.“ 64 Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 360: „The description of their activities in terms of altering or perversion (99:2) implies the author’s conviction that his community is the repository of revealed truth, called ‚the eternal covenant‘ (Eth. ‚law‘). Thus it is the opponents who have departed from the unalterable law of God. Since they have ‚gone astray‘ and influence others to do the same (98:15), they will undergo harsh forms of punishment and destruction described in each of the woes.“ Ähnlich NICKELSBURG, 1 Enoch (s. Anm. 54), S. 427: „False teachers propound interpretations of divine law that the author claims are perverting that law …“ 65 STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 360. Ebenso NICKELSBURG, 1 Enoch (s. Anm. 54), S. 488: „The deceivers … wrongly claim to present the right interpretation of the Tora, sometimes in opposition to the ‚true‘ interpretation presented by the author’s hero.“

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Eckstein auf Jesus beziehen und damit das Motiv vom nicht tragenden Fundament ganz nach Art der Henochepistel weiterspinnen.66 3.3. Verfolgungen der Gerechten Ähnlich wie in der Logienquelle berichtet Henochs Epistel auch von Verfolgungen: Die Sünder verfolgen die Gerechten (95,7 und 96,8), peinigen sie (100,7) und töten ihren „Nächsten“ (99,15). Die Gerechten klagen zu Gott: „Wir sind umgebracht worden, und wir haben niemanden gefunden, der uns nur mit dem Wort beigestanden hätte, wir wurden gequält und vertilgt, und wir haben nicht gehofft, das Leben zu sehen Tag um Tag.… wir wurden zum Fraß für die Sünder, und die Ungerechten drückten uns mit ihrem Joch.“ (103,10f.). Inwieweit es sich hier um reale Übergriffigkeiten handelt oder lediglich um metaphorische Sprache, ist nicht immer leicht zu beurteilen.67 Doch die Tatsache, dass hier biblische Topoi aus Dtn 28 verwendet werden,68 macht klar, dass diese Reden wohl eher hyperbolisch zu verstehen sind. Daraus kann man wohl auch Rückschlüsse für die Logienquelle ziehen. Wenn dort die Rede ist vom vergossenen Prophetenblut (Q 11,49-51), das von „dieser Generation“ eingefordert wird, so ist auch das ein alttestamentlicher Topos, der des gewaltsamen Prophetengeschicks.69 Auch die Aufforderung „fürchtet euch nicht vor denen, die den Leib töten, die Seele aber nicht töten können“ (Q 12,4f.) ist weniger konkreten, blutigen Verfolgungen geschuldet, sondern gibt eine stehende Topik wieder. In Henochs Epistel begegnet dieses Motiv wiederholt: 1 Hen 95,3: Fürchtet euch, ihr Gerechten, nicht vor den Sündern, denn der Herr wird sie wieder in eure Hand ausliefern, damit ihr an ihnen das Gericht vollzieht, so wie ihr wollt. 1 Hen 96,3: Ihr aber, die ihr leidet, fürchtet euch nicht, denn euch wird Heilung widerfahren …

66

Vgl. dazu STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 420-422. Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 216: „… there is no indication in the text that his own [sc. the prophet’s] experience reflects exactly what he describes as having happened to his community (cf. 103:9-15).“ 68 Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 548: „The language in the text [sc. 103,9-15], however, consists in large part of words, expressions and whole phrases drawn from the reservoir of curses for breaking the covenant in Deuteronomy 28 (esp. vv. 13, 25, 26, 29, 33, 38–42, 44, 45, 48, 51, 62, 64, 65, 66; for explicit references to disobedience to the covenant, see vv. 13, 15, 45, 58).… The righteous are made to utter a deep disappointment, if not disillusionment, that they themselves are suffering the consequences promised in the covenant to the disobedient (cf. e.g. Lam. 5:1–22; Deut. 31:17b).“ 69 Vgl. dazu ausführlich TIWALD, Hat Gott sein Haus verlassen (vgl. Q 13,35)? (s. Anm. 25), S. 69-79, und TIWALD, Wanderradikalismus (s. Anm. 61), S. 94-97. 67

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1 Hen 102,4: Fürchtet euch nicht, ihr Seelen der Gerechten, und hofft, die ihr in Gerechtigkeit gestorben seid.

Auch der Q-Makarismus für jene, die sich freuen und jubeln sollen über die Schmähungen und Verfolgungen wegen des Menschensohnes, da ihnen reicher Lohn im Himmel verheißen ist (6,22f.), entstammt genau diesem Genre: 1 Hen 104,2: Hofft, denn zuerst (hattet) ihr Schmach und Unglück und Not, aber jetzt werdet ihr leuchten wie das Licht des Himmels, ihr werdet leuchten und werdet scheinen, und das Tor des Himmels wird für euch geöffnet werden. 1 Hen 104,6: Und nun fürchtet euch nicht, ihr Gerechten, wenn ihr die Sünder stark werden und (mit) ihrem Weg Glück haben seht, habt keine Gemeinschaft mit ihnen, sondern haltet euch von ihrer Gewalttat fern, denn ihr sollt Gemeinschaft mit den Guten des Himmels haben.

Der Zuspruch vom „Tor des Himmels“, das für die Gerechten geöffnet wird (1 Hen 104,2), findet eine negative Parallele in Q 13,25-27, wo der „Hausherr“ für die ἐργαζόµενοι τὴν ἀνοµίαν die Türe versperrt. Ebenso hat auch das Wort von der „Gemeinschaft mit den Guten des Himmels“ (1 Hen 104,6), die den Gerechten verheißen wird, eine Negativ-Parallele in Q 13,29f., wo die ἐργαζόµενοι τὴν ἀνοµίαν (diese sind nach der wahrscheinlichsten Q-Rekonstruktion hier noch immer Subjekt) von der Tischgemeinschaft mit „Abraham, Isaak und Jakob“ ausgeschlossen werden. Das Wort vom Leuchten der Gerechten (1 Hen 104,2) ist zwar nicht für Q belegt, aber aus Mt 13,43 bekannt. Solche Bilder konnten also als „Wandermotive“ in unterschiedlichsten Kontexten und mit unterschiedlichsten Stoßrichtungen eingesetzt werden und geben kein gruppenspezifisches Proprium wieder. 3.4. Schmähungen der Gegner Schmähungen der Gegner gibt es in der Henochepistel wie auch in der Logienquelle. In Q 11,44 etwa werden die Pharisäer als „unkenntliche Gräber“ verunglimpft, ein Vorwurf, der Falschheit und Täuschung insinuiert.70 Das findet eine Parallele in 1 Hen 95,6: „Wehe euch, den Lügenzungen, und denen, die das Unrecht fördern …“. Nickelsburg hat dabei klar gezeigt, dass es sich hier nicht um „Lügen“ im eigentlichen Sinn handelt, sondern um eine abweichende Gesetzesinterpretation, die als falsch gebrandmarkt wird.71 Ansonsten kehrt in Henochs Epistel wiederholt der Vorwurf der „Hartherzigkeit“ wieder (98,11; 100,8), ein Vorwurf, der uns aus Mk 10,5 und Mt 19,8 vertraut ist. 70 71

Vgl. ZELLER, Logienquelle (s. Anm. 4), S. 67. Vgl. NICKELSBURG, 1 Enoch (s. Anm. 54), S. 487 („lying activity“).

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3.5. Zeugen der Anklage Dass für das Endgericht „Zeugen der Anklage“ gegen die Ungläubigen aufgerufen werden, begegnet ebenfalls in beiden Schriften wiederholt. In Q 11,31f. werden die Königin des Südens und die Männer von Ninive in den Zeugenstand gegen „diese Generation“ gerufen. So heißt es auch in 1 Hen 94,11: „Und deine Gerechten werden in jenen Tagen den Sündern und Gottlosen ein Vorwurf sein.“ Auch die wiederholten Schwurformeln der Henochepistel dienen der Ankündigung des Gerichts: „These instances show that the writer’s use of the oath-formula presupposes a juridical scenario in which he acts as one who testifies.… [H]e takes upon himself the function of a witness against the sinners by describing their deeds (98:1–3; 99:6–9) and declaring that their guilt cannot be concealed (98:6–8).“72 1 Hen 98,6: Ich habe euch, ihr Sünder, bei den großen Heiligen geschworen, daß all euer böses Tun in den Himmeln offenbar ist und daß (euer) Werk des Unrechts weder verdeckt noch verborgen ist. 1 Hen 99,6: Und abermals schwöre ich euch, den Sündern, daß die Sünde reif für den Tag des unaufhörlichen Blut(vergießens) ist.

3.6. Die Gerichtsansagen gegen die Sünder Solche Aussagen gibt es in beiden Texten, doch fallen diese in Henochs Epistel merklich drastischer aus als in der Logienquelle. „Wisset“ – heißt es an die Adresse der Frevler – „dass ihr in die Hände der Gerechten gegeben werdet, und sie werden euch die Köpfe abhauen und euch töten und kein Mitleid mit euch haben“ (1 Hen 98,12). Hier wird die Abstrafung der Frevler nicht Gott überlassen, sondern von den Geschmähten selber ausgeführt. Eine gewisse Parallele zum Richten der Zwölf Stämme durch die Jünger Jesu in Q 22,30 legt sich nahe. Allerdings verzichtet die Logienquelle auf blutige Gerichtsphantasien, die in Henochs Epistel hingegen wiederholt anzutreffen sind. So etwa wird der jüngste Tag als „Tag des (unaufhörlichen) Blutvergießens“ apostrophiert (94,9; 99,6; vgl. auch 100,1-3). Die Frevler werden „mit dem Schwert vernichtet werden“ (91,11), sie werden „kein Grab“ erhalten (98,13), in den „Ofen des Feuers geworfen werden“ (98,3) und „in einem Brand lodernden Feuers brennen“ (100,9).

72

STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 198.

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3.7. „Diese Generation“ versus die Erwählten Von allen in Q auftretenden Gegenspielern ist „‚diese Generation‘ (ἡ γενεὰ αὕτη: 7,31; 11,29-31.50f.) die entscheidende Personifikation der Antagonisten“73 und wird im Verbund mit dem gewaltsamen Prophetengeschick zu einer tragenden Sinnlinie der Logienquelle.74 Wenig ratsam allerdings wäre es, mit „dieser Generation“ ganz Israel identifizieren zu wollen und daran den Bruch der Logienquelle mit seiner jüdischen Matrix zu exemplifizieren. In der Rede von „dieser Generation“ greift Q nämlich weniger auf reale Gegner zurück, sondern bedient sich einer literarisch vorgegebene Motivik. In Dtn 32,5 etwa beklagt das Moseslied eine γενεὰ σκολιὰ καὶ διεστραµµένη („perverse und verdorbene Generation“), 32,20 hingegen erwähnt eine „perverse Generation (γενεὰ ἐξεστραµµένη), Söhne, in denen kein Glaube ist“. Eine interessante Parallele zu Q bietet hier 1 Hen: 1 Hen 93,9f.: Und danach, in der siebenten Woche, wird sich ein abtrünniges Geschlecht75 erheben, und seine Taten (werden) zahlreich (sein), aber alle seine Taten (werden) Abfall (sein). An ihrem Ende werden die erwählten Gerechten von der ewigen Pflanze der Gerechtigkeit erwählt werden, denen siebenfache Unterweisung über die ganze Schöpfung zuteil werden soll.

Dieser Text entstammt der „Wochenapokalypse“ (1 Hen 93,1-10; 91,1117), einem ursprünglich eigenständigen Text, der wohl schon gegen Ende des 2 Jh. v. Chr. verbunden mit der Henochepistel tradiert wurde.76 Der eschatologische Fahrplan Gottes wird hier in den Schritten von zehn Wochen dargestellt,77 wobei sich die Dramatik des Ungehorsams und der Gottlosigkeit von der ersten bis zur siebenten Woche immer mehr zuspitzt.78 In der siebenten Woche erreicht die Dramatik des Bösen ihren Höhepunkt,79 hier wird sich „ein abtrünniges Geschlecht erheben, und seine Taten (werden) zahlreich (sein), aber alle seine Taten (werden) Ab73 M. LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender: Die Logienquelle als erzählte Geschichte (Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 32), Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt 2010, S. 455f. 74 Vgl. dazu TIWALD, Hat Gott sein Haus verlassen (vgl. Q 13,35)? (s. Anm. 25), S. 79f. 75 Nach STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 119, liest der äthiopische Text hier für „wicked generation“ tewled ‘elut; der aramäische Text ist an dieser Stelle lakunös (STUCKENBRUCK, a.a.O., S. 121 und S. 50-52), das koptische Fragment hingegen endet schon mit V. 8 (STUCKENBRUCK, a.a.O., S. 52). 76 Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 49. 77 Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 53f. 78 „The text concentrates, rather, on ever-worsening conditions that signify the essential failure of the present world order“, so STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 386. 79 Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 56.

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fall (sein)“ (1 Hen 93,9). Die Erwähnung des abtrünnigen Geschlechts steht hier symptomatisch für die endzeitlich erwartete „time of pervasive wickedness“80 sowie für „unprecedented malevolence“.81 Erst am Ende der siebenten Woche wird Gott den eschatologischen Umbruch einleiten, indem er den „erwählten Gerechten“ eine „siebenfache Unterweisung über die ganze Schöpfung“ (1 Hen 93,10) zuteil werden lässt. Damit ist eine „revelatory instruction received by the specially elect community“82 gemeint, also ein typisch apokalyptisches Sonderwissen, das nur den Auserwählten zuteil wird.83 Diese Gruppe der Auserwählten wird mitten aus Israel, aus der „ewigen Pflanze der Gerechtigkeit“ (1 Hen 93,10),84 hervorgehen.85 Damit wird ein Zweifaches gesagt: „First, his [sc. the author’s] distinction between ‚chosen ones‘ and ‚the eternal plant of righteousness‘ reflects a view that membership in Israel is no guarantee of future salvation. The privilege of being within the chosen plant carries obligations that cannot be taken lightly. Second, the author characterises the ‚chosen ones‘ as those who will be endowed with special knowledge.“86 Ähnlich wie für die Qumrangemeinde kommt auch hier ein besonderes Erwählungsdenken zum Tragen: Die Gemeinde hinter der Wochenapokalypse sieht sich durch die an sie ergangene besondere Offenbarung berechtigt, die endzeitlich bindende Interpretation des Gotteswillens vorzunehmen. 80

STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 122. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 123. 82 STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 57. 83 Hier geht es darum, „daß in der Zehnwochenapokalypse mit dem eschatologischen Erwählungshandeln eine unmittelbare, das heißt nicht im Rückgriff auf die schriftlich fixierte Tora gewonnene, eschatologische Belehrung verbunden ist, welche die wahre Ordnung der Schöpfung aufdeckt …“ – so H. M ERKLEIN, Jesu Botschaft von der Gottesherrschaft: Eine Skizze (SBS 111), 3. Aufl. Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk 1989, S. 104. Zu vergleichen wäre damit auch die Erwartung der Geistesunmittelbarkeit für „alles Fleisch“ in der Endzeit nach Joel 3,1. Ebenso NICKELSBURG , 1 Enoch (s. Anm. 54), S. 448: „The elect are chosen, first of all, to be the recipients of wisdom and knowledge. In the context of the Epistle, this means a particular understanding of the divine law, other esoteric information about the cosmos, and the eschatological message of the coming judgement.“ Vgl. auch C. HEIL, Nachfolge und Tora in Q 9,57-60, in: M. Tiwald (Hg.), Kein Jota wird vergehen: Das Gesetzesverständnis der Logienquelle vor dem Hintergrund frühjüdischer Theologie (BWANT 200), Stuttgart: Kohlhammer 2012, S. 111-140, S. 131-333; M. TIWALD, Die bleibende Gültigkeit der Tora nach Q 16, in: C. Heil/G. Harb/M. Hölscher (Hgg.), Built on Rock or Sand? Q Studies – Retrospects, Introspects and Prospects (BEThL), Leuven: Peeters (im Erscheinen). 84 Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 124: „Thus the Apocalypse uses ‚plant‘ to speak of the socio-religious matrix (Israel) within which and out of which the righteous (the true Israel) will identified [sic].“ 85 Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 123: „This new community, an ‚elect‘ one within the elect, represents the group with which the author identifies.“ 86 STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 124. 81

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Stuckenbruck vergleicht die Wochenapokalypse mit Musar leMevin, also 4QInstruction, wo in 4Q418 Frg. 69 II,10 von den „Erwählten der Weisheit“ gesprochen wird.87 Stuckenbruck vermutet, dass beide Texte an einem „larger stream of biblical interpretation“88 teilhaben, der die in AT und Frühjudentum geläufige Pflanzenmetapher89 eschatologisch deutet und mit dem Besitz eschatologisch offenbarter Weisheit verbindet.90 Die Ankündigung, dass den Erwählten im Eschaton „siebenfache Weisheit und Erkenntnis“ zuteil wird, findet sich in Qumran auch in 4Q212 (= 4QEng ar) Frg. 1c II,12f., dem aramäischen Fragment von 1 Hen 93,9-10; 91,11-17. „‚Seven[fold] wisdom and knowledge‘ (so the Aram. of 4QEng) denotes salvific knowledge in its entirety“91 – notiert hier Stuckenbruck zum speziellen Erwählungsdenken der Qumrangemeinde. Analog dazu wird in Musar leMevin wiederholt angesprochen, dass das „Mysterium des Gewordenen“ („mystery of being“) den Erwählten offenbar wurde,92 also die endzeitliche Einsicht in Gottes Heilsplan.93 Das wiederum findet eine Parallele im 4. Esrabuch, einer ebenfalls palästinisch-frühjüdischen Schrift, in der apokalyptische wie auch weisheitliche Deutemuster zum Tragen 87

Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 125: „In this respect, ideas in Musar, which at one point refers to the addressees as ‚chosen ones of truth‘ (4Q418 69 ii 10), are comparable with those of the Apocalypse [sc. Apocalypse of Weeks].“ 88 STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 125. 89 Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 76: „ … the ‚plant‘ is widely attested as a religious metaphor referring in some way to Israel. It not only occurs in biblical tradition (cf. esp. Isa. 5:7; 60:21; 61:3), but also in early Enochic tradition (1 En. 10:3,16; 84:6; cf. 93:5,10), Jubilees (1:16; 16:26; 21:24;36:6), and further literature preserved amongst the Dead Sea documents (Musar le-Mevin in 4Q418 81.13 and 4Q423 1–2.7; 1QS viii 5; xi 8; 1QM vi 15; viii 6; 1QHa xiv 15; xvi 5–6, 9–10, 20–21).“ Siehe dazu auch NICKELSBURG , 1 Enoch (s. Anm. 54), S. 444f. 90 Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 125. 91 STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 125. 92 Vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 127: „Thus elsewhere in Musar, although revelatory knowledge called ‚the mystery of being‘ has been disclosed to the addressee (4Q416 2 iii 17–18) and although there are some who already understand it (4Q418 123 ii 4), he is nevertheless exhorted to investigate, observe, meditate on and understand it (4Q416 2 i 5; 2 iii 14; 4Q417 2 i 2, 18, 25; 4Q418 43–45 i 4 – ‚your mysteries‘).“ 93 Vgl. dazu auch A. LANGE, Weisheit und Prädestination: Weisheitliche Urordnung und Prädestination in den Textfunden von Qumran (StTDJ 18), Leiden: E. J. Brill 1995, S. 109-120: Unter dem Ausdruck „Geheimnis“ (‫ רז‬bzw. µυστήριον) verstand man in Qumran das eschatologische Wissen um die von Gott festgesetzte Heilsordnung der Welt – also den genauen Plan der göttlichen Heilsökonomie. Dieses Wissen kommt dabei dem Anweiser der Gerechtigkeit zu, der damit zu einer Art „Offenbarungsmittler“ (LANGE, a.a.O., S. 107) wird. Erst in der Auslegung der jüdischen Tora durch dieses besondere endzeitliche Wissen erhält die Tora ihre Heilsrelevanz. Siehe dazu ebenso: T IWALD, Hebräer (s. Anm. 26), S. 252f.

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kommen.94 In 4 Esr 14,44-46 werden dem Seher zusätzlich zu den Büchern der hebräischen Bibel noch 70 weitere Bücher mit eschatologischen Weisungen diktiert, die erst für die Endzeit bestimmt sind und die richtige Deutung des Gesetzes proponieren.95 „… the wise can find tôrâ (in the sense of divine instruction) in esoteric books – presumably texts that were eventually excluded from the Jewish canon of Scripture“96 – urteilt hier Karina Hogan. Die Parallelen zur Logienquelle liegen auf der Hand: Auch hier wird die Vorstellung vertreten, dass die Q-Leute als kleine Gruppe von Erwählten aus Israel durch ihre besondere eschatologische Unterweisung (ihren Glauben an Jesus) erwählt wurden. Dass dieses eschatologische Sonderwissen in Israel nur von einer Minderheit anerkannt wird, interpretiert die QGruppe aufgrund ihrer apokalyptischen Grundausrichtung nicht als Scheitern, sondern geradezu als Legitimation der eigenen Botschaft: Im Eschaton muss eine „böse Generation“ (Q 11,29) als Widersacher auftreten. Deren Ablehnung ist von Gott ebenso vorherbestimmt, wie die Tatsache, dass alle wahren Propheten in Israel abgelehnt wurden (Q 11,49-51). In dieser endzeitlichen „bösen Generation“ allerdings erreicht die Verstockung ihren Höhepunkt und zugleich ihren eschatologischen Wendepunkt, genauso wie in der siebenten Woche der Wochenapokalypse. Aus dieser Dynamik heraus ist es wohl anachronistisch, zu fragen, ob die Logienquelle Israel bereits den Status der Erwählung abspricht und mit der eigenen Matrix gebrochen hat. Israel bleibt für Q wie für die Wochenapokalypse auch weiterhin die „ewige Pflanze der Gerechtigkeit“. Die unmittelbar auf unseren Text 1 Hen 93,10 folgende Passage 1 Hen 91,1197 erwähnt zwar, dass „die Wurzeln der Ungerechtigkeit abgehauen werden, und die Sünder … mit dem Schwert vernichtet werden“, doch gilt dabei zu beachten: „It is possible that the Aramaic verb ‚uproot‘ extends the vegetation metaphor from 93:10. This does not mean so much that the author’s community is being directly contrasted with those who are blamed for violence and deceit. Instead, the emphasis lies on what God has established to endure: Israel is the ‚eternal plant of righteousness‘ which in the end

94

Vgl. K. M. HOGAN, The Meanings of tôrâ in 4 Ezra, JSJ 38 (2007), S. 530-552, S. 533. 95 Vgl. NICKELSBURG, Revealed Wisdom as a Criterion (s. Anm. 35), S. 81. 96 HOGAN, Meanings (s. Anm. 94), S. 551. Freilich sollte man hier einschränken, dass es im damaligen Judentum wohl noch keinen allgemein verbindlichen „canon of Scripture“ gegeben hat. 97 Zu dieser Textumstellung vgl. STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 121: „In 4QEng, we have confirmation that the Ethiopic tradition displaced the original order of the Apocalypse, as 91:11 follows directly upon 93:10 as part of the seventh week …“ Siehe auch STUCKENBRUCK, a.a.O., S. 50f.

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will be restored, whereas the days of violence and deceit are numbered.“98 – Die Aussagen sind also protreptisch-performativer Natur, sie sollen konnotativ den Gläubigen Mut und Hoffnung machen, nicht aber informativ-denotativ eine Verdammung über die Ungläubigen aussprechen. Dass Gott nun im Eschaton die rechte Auslegung der Tora erweitert um „siebenfache Unterweisung über die ganze Schöpfung“ – bzw. um das „Mysterium des Gewordenen“ – bzw. in Q 10,21-24 um die besondere Offenbarung Jesu, ist in erster Linie nicht als Invektive gegen das ungläubige Israel gedacht, sondern eher als Stärkung des eigenen in-groupBewusstseins:99 Es geht um die je eigene Gewissheit, dass Gott trotz aller gegenwärtiger Ablehnung und Marginalisierung der „Gerechten“ im Eschaton die Gemeinde hinter der Wochenapokalypse – bzw. die Verfasser hinter Musar leMevin – bzw. die jesusgläubigen Q-Leute als seine auserwählten Gerechten präsentieren wird. Damit allerdings wird klar, dass weder die Wochenapokalypse noch Musar leMevin noch die Logienquelle mit einer Abrogation des endzeitlichen Heils- und Erwählungsstatus von Israel rechnen, sondern lediglich die Legitimität des eigenen Glaubens herausstellen wollen.

98

STUCKENBRUCK, 1 Enoch 91–108 (s. Anm. 51), S. 130. So etwa verweist NICKELSBURG, 1 Enoch (s. Anm. 54), S. 41f., darauf, dass 1 Hen den Dualismus zwischen Gerechten und Ungerechten überwindet, indem nun alle eingeladen werden, an der eschatologischen Offenbarung des Heilsplanes Gottes teilzunehmen, wie sie in der „siebenfachen Unterweisung“ geschieht. 99

Narrative in Q

The Narrative of Jesus as the Narrative of God in Q Harry T. Fleddermann When we study the history of religions we find enormous differences in the way people understand God. One key question concerns the inner life of God. Does God change or does God remain always the same? Should we think of God as dynamic or static? A static, changeless God surfaces in several traditions. Mircea Eliade describes some sky gods who seem completely remote and uninvolved in human affairs. Humans rarely invoke such a god, called a deus otiosus, because the god has no active interest in the world.1 This static view of God surfaces from time to time in the Bible. A famous example occurs at the beginning of the Letter of James where the author describes the source of all gifts, “Every generous act of giving and every perfect gift comes down from above from the Father of lights, with whom alone there is no variation or shadow of change” (Jas 1,17). Passages like this one from James clash, though, with the dominant biblical view of God who the Bible insists can and does change. The Bible consistently portrays God as “the living God,” a dynamic, vibrant Being who acts and changes and evolves.2 If God can change, then God has a narrative, and the question arises “What is the narrative of God?” Although we could pose the question for the Bible as a whole, this essay will focus on Q and ask, “What is the narrative of God in Q?”

1

Cf. M. E LIADE, Patterns in Comparative Religion, trans. R. Sheed, Lincoln, Nebr.: University of Nebraska Press 1996, pp. 46-50. 2 See in the NT the abundant references to “the living God” ([ὁ] θεὸς [ὁ] ζῶν): Matt 16,16; 26,63; Acts 14,15; Rom 9,26; 2 Cor 3,3; 6,16; 1 Thess 1,9; 1 Tim 3,15; 4,10; Heb 3,12; 9,14; 10,31; 12,22; 1 Pet 1,23; Rev 7,2; 15,7. The expression is septuagintal (4 Kgdms 19,4.16; Psa 41,3; Isa 37,4.17; Hos 2,1). See W. D. D AVIES/D. C. A LLISON J R., A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel according to Saint Matthew (ICC), 3 vols., Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1988–1997, pp. 2:620-621.

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1. God in the Narrative of Q Scholars studying Q have increasingly turned to the discipline of narratology for insight in understanding Q, but the question arises, “Does Q just have narrative features or should we identify Q itself as a narrative?” However, Q has all the essential features of a narrative as we can see by measuring Q against the features identified by J. Hillis Miller as essential for a narrative. For Miller every narrative must have three features. First, a narrative must have an initial situation followed by a sequence of events that leads up to a reversal or change, and a revelation made possible by the reversal. Second, a narrative must bring characters to life by creating characters out of signs, either the words in a text or sounds in an oral narrative or images in a painting or film. Every narrative needs three essential characters, the protagonist, the antagonist, and the witness who receives the revelation. Third, every narrative must have some patterning or repetition of a trope or tropes.3 Q has all of these essential elements of a narrative. First, John’s Preaching serves as the initial situation; Jesus’ entire ministry provides the sequence of events that leads up to the crucifixion and resurrection that contain a revelation. Second, Q brings many characters to life – God, the devil, Jesus, John, the disciples, the adversaries. Third, the document contains a complex system of symbols like the kingdom of God and the Son of Man that provide an artistic unity to the work.4 Q is a full, complete narrative; and therefore we can legitimately ask, “What is the narrative of God in Q?” Not only does God have a narrative in Q, God plays a pivotal role in Q as the trans-earthly protagonist of Q. In the narrative structure of Q Jesus and the disciples fill the role of the protagonist on the earthly level, but on the trans-earthly level God stands opposed to the devil.5 PROTAGONIST Trans-earthly level Earthly level

GOD JESUS DISCIPLES

ANTAGONIST DEVIL JOHN ADVERSARIES

Q uses a variety of terms to refer to God, especially three nouns – “God,” “Lord,” and “Father.” The noun “God” (θεός) appears twenty times in Q as 3 J. H. MILLER, Narrative, in: F. Lentricchia/T. McLaughlin (eds.), Critical Terms for Literary Study, Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press 1990, pp. 66-79. 4 H. T. FLEDDERMANN, The Plot of Q, EThL 88 (2012), pp. 46-49. 5 See FLEDDERMANN, The Plot of Q (see n. 4), p. 49.

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one of the most common nouns in the vocabulary of Q.6 Of the twenty occurrences of “God” in Q, thirteen appear in the expressions “the kingdom of God” (ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ), “the Son of God” (υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ), and “the Spirit of God” (πνεῦµα τοῦ θεοῦ).7 Besides referring to God as “God” (θεός), Q also refers to God as “Lord” and “Father.” Q uses the title “Lord” (κύριος) twenty-five times, once in the plural and twenty-four times in the singular.8 Of the twenty-four singular occurrences of “Lord” in Q, nineteen refer to Jesus and five to God.9 Besides referring to God as “God” and “Lord,” Q also ten times refers to God as “Father” (πατήρ), both the Father of Jesus and the Father of the disciples.10 Besides using the titles separately, the author of Q combines them on occasion and orchestrates them into a consistent, coherent understanding of God.11 We begin by exploring two complementary references to God that appear back-to-back in Part II of Q – “Lord of the Harvest” (Q 10,2) and “Lord of Heaven and Earth” (Q 10,21). We often find references to a divine figure with the title “Lord” followed by a defining genitive both in the ancient Near East and in Hellenism.12 “Lord of the Harvest” directly refers to God as the author of the Christian mission, but the phrase indirectly designates God as the Lord of History. “Lord of Heaven and Earth” refers to God as Lord of the Universe. This title refers to both creation and God’s on-going dominion over the universe including God’s role as pro6 See Q 3,8; 4,3.8.9.12; 6,20; 7,28; 10,9; 11,20bis.52; 12,6.24.28; 13,18.20.28; 16,13.16; 22,30. 7 For “the kingdom of God” (ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ), see Q 6,20; 7,28; 10,9; 11,20.52; 13,18.20.28; 16,16; 22,30; for “the Son of God” (υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ), see Q 4,3.9; for “the Spirit of God” (πνεῦµα θεοῦ), see Q 11,20. See N. SIFFER, L’image de Dieu dans la source Q, BZ 55 (2011), pp. 161-178, p. 162. 8 “Lord” (ὁ κύριος) appears twenty-four times in the singular in Q (Q 4,12.8; 6,46 bis; 7,2-3.6; 9,59; 10,2.21; 12,42.43.45.46; 13,25.26.35; 14,21; 6,40 bis; 19,12-13.15.16.18. 21) and once in the plural (Q 16,13). Ten of these singular occurrences appear in the three servant parables, The Servant Left in Charge, Invitation to the Feast, and The Pounds (Q 12,42.43.45.46; 14,21; 19,12-13.15.16.18.21). M. Frenschkowski wants to see God as “Lord” in Q 14,21, but Q 13,25-27 shows that Jesus fills the role of host at the eschatological banquet in Q. The Lord in all the servant parables is Jesus, not God. See M. FRENSCHKOWSKI, Kyrios in Context: Q 4:46, the Emperor as “Lord”, and the Political Implications of Christology in Q, in: M. Labahn/J. Zangenberg (eds.), Zwischen den Reichen: Neues Testament und Römische Herrschaft: Vorträge auf der ersten Konferenz der European Association for Biblical Studies (TANZ 36), Tübingen: Francke 2002, pp. 95-118, p. 104. 9 Jesus as “Lord” appears in Q 6,46 bis; 7,2-3.6; 9,59; 12,42.43.45.46; 13,25.26; 14,21; 6,40 bis; 19,12-13.15.16.18.21. “Lord” refers to God in Q 4,8.12; 10,2.21; 13,35. 10 Q 6,35.36; 10.21bis.22ter; 11,2.13; 12,30. 11 See the combination of “Lord” and “God” in Q 4,8.12 and the combination of “Father” and “Lord” in Q 10,21. 12 Cf. M. FRENSCHKOWSKI, Kyrios (κύριος), in: RAC 22 (2008), pp. 768-769.

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vider for all living things. When Q describes God’s role as provider for human beings, Q refers to God as “Father.”13 God’s active participation in the on-going life of the universe can include new initiatives. For Q the ministry of Jesus constitutes a new initiative that God introduces in his role as “Lord of the Harvest.” Although we could pursue these reflections on “God,” “Lord,” and “Father” further, we can best explore the narrative of God in Q by examining the two homologies of Q.

2. The Two Homologies of Q The concept of homology can help us explore Q’s understanding of God on a deeper level. Homology as a term designating similar structures deriving from a common cause has only recently entered biblical studies, but the term has a long history in the natural sciences and mathematics where structures play an important role. In biology, for instance, homology refers to two seemingly different, but ultimately similar, structures that have a common evolutionary root. For example, biologists consider the front legs of a horse and human arms as homologues because we can trace both back to a common evolutionary ancestor. Stephen Gould explains: Two organisms may maintain the same feature because both inherited it from a common ancestor. These are homologous similarities, and they indicate “propinquity of descent,” to use Darwin’s words. Forelimbs of people, porpoises, bats and horses provide the classic example of homology in most textbooks. They look different, and do different things, but are built of the same bones. No engineer, starting from scratch each time, would have built such disparate structures from the same parts. Therefore, the parts existed before the particular set of structures now housing them: they were, in short, inherited from a common ancestor.14

Biologists distinguish homologous similarities from analogous similarities. Again, Stephen Gould explains: Two organisms may also share a feature in common as a result of separate but similar evolutionary change in independent lineages. These are analogous similarities; they are the bugbear of genealogists because they confound our naive expectation that things looking alike should be closely related. The wings of birds, bats and butterflies adorn

13 For God’s active care for the universe, see Q 12,6.24.28. For God as “Father” of human beings, see Q 6,35c.36; 11,2.13; 12,30. 14 S. J. GOULD, Might We Fit Inside a Sponge’s Cell, in: Idem, The Panda’s Thumb: More Reflections in Natural History, New York, N.Y.: Norton 1982, pp. 245-256, p. 248. I am grateful to my colleague, Prof. R. S. Burton of Alverno College, for helping me understand the concept of homology in biology and for steering me to Gould’s work.

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most texts as a standard example of analogy. No common ancestor of any pair had wings. 15

In homologous similarities the same structure has evolved to perform different functions; in analogous similarities different structures have evolved to perform the same function. In a homology the similarities go back to a common cause – the evolutionary ancestor. Long after the concept of homology emerged in the sciences, the term entered literary criticism through the work of genetic structuralists like Lucien Goldmann. In studying seventeenth-century French literature Goldman found structural similarities between four seemingly disparate artistic, intellectual, social, and religious phenomena: (1) Racine’s tragedies; (2) the thought of Pascal; (3) a French social group, the noblesse de robe; and (4) extreme Jansenism. Extreme Jansenism maintained that God abandoned the world because of its evil, but God still imposes his complete authority on the individual caught up in the midst of evil, resulting in a tragic situation in which the individual experiences absolute loneliness. This tragic vision underlies Racine’s tragedies even though they do not seem to have anything to do with Jansenism, and Goldmann also finds it underlying the plight of the legal profession, the noblesse de robe, which was losing its power because of the rise of the absolute monarchy, and it further informs Pascal’s philosophy. Goldmann calls the tragic vision that underlies all four manifestations a “homology.” In this sense a homology appears as an abstract mental structure, a world vision, that arises in a particular social situation and informs the social consciousness of a whole period so deeply that it generates individual expressions like Racine’s tragedies or Pascal’s philosophy.16 In both biology and genetic structuralism a homology refers to a prototypical structure that causes or generates seemingly different, but ultimately similar, expressions or results. Gerd Theissen picked up the concept of homology from the genetic structuralists and applied it to the relationship between Jesus as the Son of Man and the earliest Christian communities. For Theissen the ethical demands discipleship lays on Jesus’ followers reflect the attitudes of the Son 15

GOULD, Might We Fit Inside a Sponge’s Cell (see n. 14), p. 248. Cf. L. GOLDMANN, Le Dieu caché: Étude sur la vision tragique dans les Penseés de Pascal et dans le théâtre de Racine, Paris: Gallimard 1955; English Translation: The Hidden God: A Study of Tragic Vision in the Penseés of Pascal and the Tragedies of Racine (ILPP), trans. P. Thody, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul/New York, N.Y.: Humanities Press 1964. Goldmann summarizes his findings in L. G OLDMANN, The Sociology of Literature: Status and Problems of Method, in: M. C. Albrecht/J. H. Barnett/M. Griff (eds.), The Sociology of Art and Literature: A Reader, New York, N.Y.: Praeger 1970, pp. 582-609. For a concise summary of Goldmann’s thought, see R. S ELDEN, A Reader’s Guide to Contemporary Literary Theory, 2nd ed., Lexington, Ky.: University Press of Kentucky 1989, pp. 38-39. 16

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of Man so that a structural similarity or homology binds the followers and the Son of Man.17 Finally, John J. Collins adopted the term to describe the relationship between the heavenly world and the earthly world, between heavenly figures and earthly individuals or communities in the ancient Near East.18 Collins points out that modern people assume the primacy of human experience and explain the mythological world as a projection, but ancient thinkers regarded the world of the gods as primary and the human world as a reflection of this higher world. For example, in Daniel 10 the political conflict between Jews and Greeks comes down to a struggle between their respective angels.19 The concept of homology in the work of Theissen and Collins appears similar to the use of the term in biology and genetic structuralism. In both Theissen and Collins a homology refers to a transcendent figure whose life and action inform the life and actions of earthly individuals or communities. The concept of homology that I will use in this essay continues the understanding that Theissen and Collins have articulated. We can define a homology as the ontological similarity between two figures or groups, one heavenly and one earthly, where a structural pattern of the heavenly figure causes a similar pattern to emerge in the earthly figure or group. Two homologies, each connecting two characters, dominate the theology of Q. The first homology structurally connects God and Jesus; the second structurally links Jesus and the disciple. The figure of Jesus plays a central role in both homologies as Jesus participates in both the heavenly and earthly realms as the following chart tries to make clear. Homology I

God Jesus

Homology II Disciple

17 Theissen uses the term “structural homologue” to describe the relationship between the followers of Jesus and the Son of Man, but “structural homologue” seems redundant because homology means “structural similarity.” See G. THEISSEN, Sociology of Early Palestinian Christianity, trans. J. Bowden, Philadelphia, Pa.: Fortress Press 1978, pp. 26, 27, 29, 121. 18 Cf. J. J. COLLINS, The Apocalyptic Imagination: An Introduction to Jewish Apocalyptic Literature (The Biblical Resource Series), 2nd ed., Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 1998, pp. 105-106. 19 Cf. COLLINS, The Apocalyptic Imagination (see n. 18), pp. 105-106.

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As the earthly Son of Man Jesus fills the role of the protagonist in the gospel Q, but he comes into the world as the trans-earthly savior and judge.20 The author of Q presents each of the two homologies with a pair of metaphors for each pair of characters. In Homology I we find the metaphor pair of Father and Son; in Homology II the metaphor pair Lord and Servant. Homology I Characters

God/Jesus

Metaphor pair

Father/Son

Characters

Jesus/Disciple

Metaphor pair

Lord/Servant

Homology II

The figure of Jesus connects the two homologies to each other. Although we need all of Q to understand the two homologies, the author of Q helps the reader understand the homologies by providing each of the two homologies with both a focused dramatic expression and a focused theoretical expression. In both instances the dramatic expression appears in one of Q’s dialogues; and, again, in both instances the dramatic expression precedes the theoretical expression which appears in a speech or double speech of Jesus.21 In keeping with Q’s intense christological concentration, some of Q’s preferred titles for Jesus connect the dramatic expression and the theoretical expression in each instance. Homology I Dramatic expression

§ 2. Jesus’ Temptations

Theoretical expression

§ 8. Praise of the Father and Blessing of the Disciples

Homology II Dramatic expression

§ 6. Demands of Discipleship

Theoretical expression

§ 26. Disciple and Teacher

In Homology I the title “Son” connects the two pericopes; in Homology II the titles “Teacher” and “Lord” link the two pericopes.

20

49.

For Jesus as the protagonist of Q see FLEDDERMANN, The Plot of Q (see n. 4), p.

21 Q contains thirty-three speeches (§§ 1, 3, 7-9, 11-38), four dialogues (§§ 2, 4, 6, 10), and one pericope that combines a dialogue and a speech (§ 5). For the pericope structure of Q, see H. T. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (Biblical Tools and Studies 1), Leuven: Peeters 2005, pp. 92-93.

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We cannot understand either homology without understanding the other, and we need both homologies to understand the theology of Q. The author of Q draws the two homologies together succinctly in the climactic final verse of the Mission Discourse: ὁ δεχόµενος ὑµᾶς ἐµὲ δέχεται, καὶ ὁ ἐµὲ δεχόµενος δέχεται τὸν ἀποστείλαντά µε. The one receiving you receives me, and the one receiving me receives the one who sent me. (Q 10,16)

Although this essay will concentrate on Homology I, we can best begin by probing Homology II because, as we shall see, this second homology appears more transparent than Homology I. After exploring briefly Homology II, we will move on to Homology I which initially seems more opaque.

3. Jesus and the Disciple (Homology II) Homology II connects Jesus and the disciple. The author of Q initially presents the homology in a focused dramatic dialogue between Jesus and two potential disciples.22 § 6. The Demands of Discipleship (Q 9,57-60) 57

58

59

60

καὶ εἷς εἶπεν αὐτῷ· διδάσκαλε, ἀκολουθήσω σοι ὅπου ἐὰν ἀπέρχῃ. καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ ὁ Ἰησοῦς· αἱ ἀλώπεκες φωλεοὺς ἔχουσιν καὶ τὰ πετεινὰ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ κατασκηνώσεις, ὁ δὲ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου οὐκ ἔχει ποῦ τὴν κεφαλὴν κλίνῃ. ἕτερος δὲ εἶπεν αὐτῷ· κύριε, ἐπίτρεψόν µοι πρῶτον ἀπελθεῖν καὶ θάψαι τὸν πατέρα µου. ὁ δὲ Ἰησοῦς εἶπεν αὐτῷ· ἀκολούθει µοι καὶ ἄφες τοὺς νεκροὺς θάψαι τοὺς ἑαυτῶν νεκρούς.

And one said to him, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you depart to.” And Jesus said to him, “The foxes have dens and the birds of heaven nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” But another said to him, “Lord, permit me first to depart and bury my father.” But Jesus said to him, “Follow me, and let the dead bury their dead.”

In the first dialogue the potential disciple expresses a willingness to follow Jesus, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you depart to” (Q 9,57). The 22 For the Q reconstruction, see H. T. FLEDDERMANN, The Demands of Discipleship: Matt 8,19-22 par. Luke 9,57-62, in: F. Van Segbroeck et al. (eds.), The Four Gospels: FS F. Neirynck (BEThL 100), 3 vols., Leuven: Leuven University Press 1992, pp. 1:541561; IDEM, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), pp. 390-398.

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disciple addresses Jesus with the language of discipleship with its dominant symbol – the journey – acknowledging that Jesus is on a journey and expressing his willingness to follow; but Jesus warns him that the homology that binds the disciple to the teacher demands that the disciple conform his life to the life of the teacher. In Q’s theology the Son of Man came “eating and drinking” (Q 7,34), that is fully participating in human life; but full participation in human life means that the Son of Man remains vulnerable to the contingency that dominates human existence in the world; and the disciple also must share this vulnerable existence. Homelessness serves as a symbol for all basic human physical needs. These needs press so strongly on human consciousness that humans tend to fixate on them, in short to worship them instead of God. Q returns over and over again to variations on the bread temptation, the temptation to worship the world and ultimately the Self.23 Jesus consistently rejects the bread temptation to center his worship only on God, and the disciple must adopt the same faith stance if the disciple intends to follow Jesus. The language of departing and following which dominates the first dialogue flows from the homology, for the journey of the disciple must conform to the journey of Jesus which means the narrative of the disciple must mirror the narrative of Jesus. The contingency that dominates human existence in the world comes to a climax in death, so that the faith stance of the first dialogue drives inexorably toward the cross. The journey that the disciple undertakes means that the disciple also must bear the cross to follow Jesus (Q 14,26-27). The second dialogue picks up and develops the journey symbol, for Jesus insists that the disciple must not interrupt the journey for any reason, even to fulfill a sacred obligation like burying a parent. In this second dialogue the faith stance of Jesus comes into sharper focus. Although Jesus takes up all of human existence in the world including hunger, homelessness, and death, the world has undergone an eschatological transformation by Jesus’ coming. The former arrangements give way to the new arrangements of the kingdom which breaks into the world with Jesus’ ministry. Obligations like traditional natural family ties must yield to the obligations of the new family of the kingdom present in the Christian community called into existence in Jesus’ ministry. The disciple must follow the demands of the kingdom which override all former obligations. From the two

23

See Q 4,2b-4.9-12.5-8.13; 6,20-21; 7,22.25.33-34; 10,4.7; 11,2-4.9-13; 12,22b31.33-34; 16,13; 19,12-13.15-20a.21.20b.22-24.26. See C. M. TUCKETT, The Temptation Narrative in Q, in: Van Segbroeck et al. (eds.), The Four Gospels (see n. 22), pp. 1:479507, esp. pp. 496-497; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), pp. 257-260.

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dialogues the reader sees that an iron structural similarity binds the disciple to the teacher – the structural similarity of Homology II. The theoretical expression of Homology II comes in the pericope of the Disciple and Teacher. 24 § 26. Disciple and Teacher (Q 6,40) 40

οὐκ ἔστιν µαθητὴς ὑπὲρ τὸν διδάσκαλον οὐδὲ δοῦλος ὑπὲρ τὸν κύριον αὐτοῦ· ἀρκετὸν τῷ µαθητῇ εἶναι ὡς ὁ διδάσκαλος αὐτοῦ καὶ ὁ δοῦλος ὡς ὁ κύριος αὐτοῦ.

A disciple is not above the teacher nor a servant above his Lord; it is sufficient for the disciple to be like his teacher and the servant like his Lord.

In the dramatic presention of Homology II, the double dialogue of the Demands of Discipleship, the two potential disciples address Jesus with two titles “Teacher” (Q 9,57) and “Lord” (Q 9,59). Disciple and Teacher picks up both titles and joins them with their correlative terms “disciples” and “servant.” The saying joins the two sets of correlatives with the hermeneutical key, “like” (ὡς). The disciple must be “like” the Teacher, servant “like” the Lord. This “like” brilliantly captures the essence of Homology II in a single word. The pattern of Jesus’ life and teaching causes the same pattern to emerge in the disciple’s life. Shortly after the theoretical expression of Homology II, the author of Q completes the journey symbol with the Cross Saying (Q 14,27). 25 27

ὃς οὐ λαµβάνει τὸν σταυρὸν αὐτοῦ καὶ ἀκολουθεῖ ὀπίσω µου οὐ δύναται εἶναί µου µαθητής.

Whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me cannot be my disciple.

Here again the homology takes over. Jesus imposes the pattern of his life, his journey, on the life, the journey, of the disciples. The narrative of Jesus is the narrative of the disciple in Q.

24 For the original order of the saying in Q and for the Q reconstruction, see F LEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), pp. 740-745. 25 For the reconstruction of the Cross Saying see H. T. FLEDDERMANN, The Cross and Discipleship in Q, SBL.SP 124 (1988), pp. 472-482; IDEM, Mark and Q: A Study of the Overlap Texts (BEThL 122), Leuven: Leuven University Press 1995, pp. 135-141; IDEM, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), pp. 745-755.

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4. God and Jesus (Homology I) As we have seen, the author of Q provides each homology with a dramatic presentation and a theoretical presentation. We find the dramatic presentation of Homology I in Jesus’ Temptations.26 § 2. JESUS’ TEMPTATIONS (Q 4,2b-4.9-12.5-8.13) 2b 3

4

9

10

11

12

5

6 7 8

13

καὶ νηστεύσας ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἐπείνασεν. And after fasting Jesus was hungry. καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ ὁ διάβολος· And the devil said to him, εἰ υἱὸς εἶ τοῦ θεοῦ, εἰπὲ τοῖς λίθοις “If you are the Son of God, say to these τούτοις ἵνα γένωνται ἄρτοι. stones that they become bread.” καὶ ἀποκριθεὶς εἶπεν αὐτῷ ὁ Ἰησοῦς· And Jesus answered and said to him, γέγραπται ὅτι “It is written οὐκ ἐπ’ ἄρτῳ µόνῳ ζήσεται ὁ ἄνθρωπος. ‘A human being will not live by bread alone.’” καὶ παρέλαβεν αὐτὸν ὁ διάβολος And the devil took him εἰς Ἰερουσαλὴµ καὶ ἔστησεν αὐτὸν to Jerusalem and set him ἐπὶ τὸ πτερύγιον τοῦ ἱεροῦ on the pinnacle of the temple καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ· and said to him, εἰ υἱὸς εἶ τοῦ θεοῦ, “If you are the Son of God, βάλε σεαυτὸν κάτω· throw yourself down; γέγραπται γὰρ ὅτι for it is written, τοῖς ἀγγέλοις αὐτοῦ ἐντελεῖται ‘He has given his angels orders περὶ σοῦ about you καὶ ἐπὶ χειρῶν ἀροῦσιν σε, and in their hands they will take you up µήποτε προσκόψῃς πρὸς λίθον lest you dash your foot τὸν πόδα σου. on a stone.’” καὶ ἀποκριθεὶς εἶπεν αὐτῷ ὁ Ἰησοῦς· And Jesus answered and said to him, πάλιν γέγραπται· “Again it is written, οὐκ ἐκπειράσεις κύριον τὸν θεόν σου. ‘You shall not tempt the Lord your God.’” καὶ παρέλαβεν αὐτὸν ὁ διάβολος And the devil took him εἰς ὄρος ὑψηλὸν to a high mountain καὶ ἔδειξεν αὐτῷ πάσας τὰς βασιλείας and showed him all the kingdoms τοῦ κόσµου καὶ τὴν δόξαν αὐτῶν of the world and their glory καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ· and said to him, ταῦτά σοι πάντα δώσω, “All these things I will give you, ἐὰν προσκυνήσῃς µοι. if you will worship me.” καὶ ἀποκριθεὶς εἶπεν αὐτῷ ὁ Ἰησοῦς· And Jesus answered and said to him, γέγραπται· “It is written, κύριον τὸν θεόν σου προσκυνήσεις ‘You shall worship the Lord your God καὶ αὐτῷ µόνῳ λατρεύσεις. and you shall serve him alone.’” καὶ ἀφῆκεν αὐτὸν ὁ διάβολος. And the devil left him.

26 For the reconstruction of Jesus’ Temptations, see F LEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), pp. 233-252.

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In the first temptation Jesus faces and resists the basic human temptation to center life on bread, a symbol of all the essential physical needs of human beings. Over and over again Israel yielded to this temptation by turning from the worship of Yahweh to the worship of the Canaanite deities who as fertility gods promised to provide bread and all the benefits of fertility. Since these Canaanite deities personify the forces of nature, their worship amounts to a worship of the world instead of God, so in the third temptation Jesus shows that the true alternative to worshipping bread is worshipping the one true God. Human beings live not by bread alone (ἄρτῳ µόνῳ [Q 4,4]) but by God alone (αὐτῷ µόνῳ [Q 4,8]). In the second temptation Jesus rejects the devil’s suggestion that he throw himself down from the pinnacle of the temple because God would send his angels to take him up lest he dash his foot on a stone. In effect the devil suggests that Jesus use his faith to shield himself from death. Like the third temptation, the second unfolds in the context of worship because the devil takes Jesus to the temple in Jerusalem for the trial. Instead of yielding to the devil’s suggestion, Jesus embraces the full human condition, including death, even death on the cross. Rejecting bread and embracing the human condition forms an act of worship, for Jesus experiences God as Father in rejecting the devil’s suggestion that he exploit his status as God’s Son.27 In his free choice not to exploit his status, Jesus reveals himself as true Son of God; and at the same time he worships God as Father. Full acceptance of the human condition constitutes the only worship God wants. In the third temptation the devil offers Jesus dominion over the whole world if Jesus will worship him. When we move from the second temptation to the third temptation we see juxtaposed true worship – the crucifixion – and false worship – power and glory. Suffering and weakness stand opposed to power and glory. True worship of the Father embraces the human condition in all its contingency because in Jesus we see the Father embracing all humanity, coming all the way toward humanity. The theoretical treatment of Homology I comes in the Praise of the Father and the Blessing of the Disciples.

27

The title “Son” picks up and carries forward the question “Who is whose child?” that the author of Q weaves in and out of the text to help develop the two main questions the gospel genre poses: (1) Who is Jesus?, and (2) What does it mean to be Jesus’ disciple? For the gospel genre see FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), pp. 100-110.

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§ 8. PRAISE OF THE FATHER AND BLESSING OF THE DISCIPLES (Q 10,21-24) 21

ἐν ἐκείνῃ τῇ ὥρᾳ εἶπεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς· ἐξοµολογοῦµαί σοι, πάτερ, κύριε τοῦ οὐρανοῦ καὶ τῆς γῆς, ὅτι ἔκρυψας ταῦτα ἀπὸ σοφῶν καὶ συνετῶν καὶ ἀπεκάλυψας αὐτὰ νηπίοις· ναὶ ὁ πατήρ, ὅτι οὕτως εὐδοκία ἐγένετο ἔµπροσθέν σου. πάντα µοι παρεδόθη ὑπὸ τοῦ πατρός µου, καὶ οὐδεὶς γινώσκει τὸν υἱὸν εἰ µὴ ὁ πατήρ, καὶ οὐδεὶς γινώσκει τὸν πατέρα εἰ µὴ ὁ υἱὸς καὶ ᾧ ἐὰν βούληται ὁ υἱὸς ἀποκαλύψαι. καὶ εἶπεν· µακάριοι οἱ ὀφθαλµοὶ οἱ βλέποντες ἃ βλέπετε· ἀµὴν γὰρ λέγω ὑµῖν ὅτι πολλοὶ προφῆται καὶ βασιλεῖς ἠθέλησαν ἰδεῖν ἃ βλέπετε καὶ οὐκ εἶδαν, καὶ ἀκοῦσαι ἃ ἀκούετε καὶ οὐκ ἤκουσαν.

22

23

24

In that hour Jesus said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you hid these things from the wise and intelligent and revealed them to small children; yes, Father, because this has been your good pleasure. All things were handed over to me by my Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father and no one knows the Father except the Son and the one to whom the Son wishes to reveal him.” And he said, “Blessed are the eyes that see the things which you see; for amen I say to you that many prophets and kings wanted to see the things which you see and did not see them, and to hear the things which you hear and did not hear them.”

The pericope unfolds as a double speech, one of two double speeches in Q.28 Some scholars want to divide up the passage into separate units.29 However, the passage appears firmly anchored in the context where we find it in Q. As the third pericope of Part II it is bound to the other pericopes by catchwords, and the temporal expression “in that hour” (Q 10,21) links it to the preceding Mission Discourse. Multiple motifs and style elements show that the passage forms an original unit that could only go back to a single author. In particular a series of six neuter plural expressions, three in the first half of the pericope (“these things” [ταῦτα], “them” [αὐτά], and “all things” [πάντα]) and three in the second half of the

28

For the other double speech, see The Mustard Seed and the Leaven (Q 13,18-21). A. D. Jacobson goes so far as to put Q 10,21-22 and Q 10,23-24 in two separate sections of Q, and D. Zeller sees Q 10,22 as originating from a different context than Q 10,21. See A. D. J ACOBSON, The First Gospel: An Introduction to Q (Foundations and Facets), Sonoma, Calif.: Polebridge Press 1992, pp. 149-153; D. ZELLER , Kommentar zur Logienquelle (SKK.NT 21), 2nd ed., Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk 1986, p. 55. 29

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pericope (“the things which” [ἅ]), show that the passage was conceived as a whole from the beginning.30 Both halves of the pericope treat four aspects of revelation – (1) how God reveals, (2) to whom God reveals, (3) what God reveals, and (4) why God reveals. These four aspects hold the key to the pericope and to Homology I. First, how God reveals. This how question involves two components – first, the manner in which God reveals; and, second, the means through which God reveals. First, the manner in which God reveals. Both halves of the pericope exploit the contrast between “hiding” and “revealing” typical of apocalyptic thought. The apocalyptic genre, a sub-genre of revelatory literature, characteristically discloses hidden truths, either about history or the cosmos or both. The ultimate truths remain hidden from one group – those headed for destruction – and revealed to a second group – those who will be saved.31 The Praise of the Father explicitly uses the language of “hiding” and “revealing” in contrasting parallel clauses that articulate Jesus’ motivation for praising the Father. 21

… ὅτι ἔκρυψας ταῦτα ἀπὸ σοφῶν καὶ συνετῶν καὶ ἀπεκάλυψας αὐτὰ νηπίοις …

21

… because you hid these things from the wise and intelligent and revealed them to small children …

The second half of the pericope shifts the focus from the one revealing to those who receive the revelation so it transposes the language of “hiding” and “revealing” into “not seeing” and “seeing” and “not hearing” and “hearing.” 24

ἀµὴν γὰρ λέγω ὑµῖν ὅτι πολλοὶ προφῆται καὶ βασιλεῖς ἠθέλησαν ἰδεῖν ἃ βλέπετε καὶ οὐκ εἶδαν, καὶ ἀκοῦσαι ἃ ἀκούετε καὶ οὐκ ἤκουσαν.

24

For amen I say to you that many prophets and kings wanted to see the things which you see and did not see them, and to hear the things which you hear and did not hear them.

Second, the means through which God reveals. As we will see when we explore the what question, the means through which God reveals is Jesus’ ministry – “the things which” (ἅ) the disciples “see” and “hear.” Second, to whom God reveals. Both parts of the pericope contrast those who receive the revelation with those who don’t. The first half of the pe30

On the literary unity of the passage see FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), pp. 447-454. 31 See Dan 2,19.22.28.29.30.47; 1 En. 46,3; 48,7.

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ricope calls those who receive the revelation “small children” and contrasts them with the “wise and intelligent.” The second half of the pericope designates those who receive the revelation as “you” (the disciples) and contrasts them with “prophets and kings.” The contrast in the first half uses typical language from the OT (Q 10,21). 21

… ὅτι ἔκρυψας ταῦτα ἀπὸ σοφῶν καὶ συνετῶν καὶ ἀπεκάλυψας αὐτὰ νηπίοις …

21

… because you hid these things from the wise and intelligent and revealed them to small children …

By giving the revelation to “small children” and concealing it from the “wise and intelligent” God reverses the usual order of the wisdom instructions in which the wise teach the ignorant children.32 But a further nuance unfolds when we look at the second half of the pericope, for each half of the pericope refers to those who do not receive the revelation with double noun designations – the “wise and intelligent” in the first half and “prophets and kings” in the second half. Taken together the four nouns refer to the entire OT revelation. The disciples, the small children, receive a revelation denied to the great figures of the OT, a theme that Q touches on several times. Q insists that the Christian message goes beyond the OT message.33 Third, what God reveals. Six neuter plural forms, three in the first half and three in the second half of the pericope, bind the two parts of the pericope together.34 Jesus praises the Father because he hid “these things” (ταῦτα) from the wise and intelligent and revealed “them” (αὐτά) to small children. “These things” refers both backward and forward. In the first instance it refers back to the Mission Discourse which immediately precedes the Praise of the Father and Blessing of the Disciples. In the Mission Discourse whenever the disciples are accepted, Jesus instructs them to cure the sick and to preach, saying to them, “The kingdom of God has come upon you” (Q 10,9), but this commission simply extends to the disciples the ministry of Jesus spelled out in John’s Question (Q 7,22): 22

πορευθέντες ἀπαγγείλατε Ἰωάννῃ ἃ βλέπετε καὶ ἀκούετε· τυφλοὶ ἀναβλέπουσιν καὶ χωλοὶ περιπατοῦσιν,

32

On the background of νήπιοι in the OT and Qumran, see J. DUPONT, Les «simples» (petāyim) dans la Bible et à Qumran: À propos des νήπιοι de Mt 11,25; Lc 10,21, in: Idem, Études sur les Évangiles synoptiques 2 (BEThL 70B), Leuven: Leuven University Press 1985, pp. 583-591, pp. 586-591. 33 See, for example, the “more” (πλεῖον) in Q 11,31-32. 34 Q uses numerical patterning extensively, and two other examples based on the number six appear in John’s Question (Q 7,18-19.22-28.31-35). See FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), pp. 83-87, 373.

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22

Go and announce to John what you see and hear: The blind see and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, the dead are raised and the poor have the gospel preached to them …

“These things” refer to Jesus’ ministry of healing and preaching. The author of Q reinforces this backward link to the Mission Discourse with the temporal phrase set at the beginning of the pericope, “In that hour …” (Q 10,21). Besides referring back to the Mission Discourse and John’s Question, “these things” also refers forward to “all things” (πᾶντα) in the following verse. The term “all things” (πᾶντα) stands at the head of the sentence where it rings out like a clarion call. It expresses the conviction of Christianity that in Jesus we encounter the full revelation of the Father and the definitive revelation of the Father.35 Christians need no further revelation.36 But this “all things” gets carried forward by the three neuter plurals, “the things which” (ἅ), in the second half of the pericope which lead up to the final sentence: 24

ἀµὴν γὰρ λέγω ὑµῖν ὅτι πολλοὶ προφῆται καὶ βασιλεῖς ἠθέλησαν ἰδεῖν ἃ βλέπετε καὶ οὐκ εἶδαν, καὶ ἀκοῦσαι ἃ ἀκούετε καὶ οὐκ ἤκουσαν.

24

For amen I say to you that many prophets and kings wanted to see the things which you see and did not see them, and to hear the things which you hear and did not hear them.

Here again we find Jesus’ ministry summed up in “seeing” and “hearing” – seeing the miracles and hearing the teaching. When we move from the first sentence of the pericope to the second sentence, we see that the what question centers on the verb “to know” (γινώσκω), for what Jesus reveals is the knowledge of the Father. This verb “to know” has deep roots in the Hebrew verb “to know” (‫ ) ָי ַדּ ע‬and its cognate noun “knowledge” (‫) ַדּ ַ ת‬. The Hebrew noun and verb are relational terms and covenant terms, and they come to their fullest expression in the phrases “to know Yahweh” and the “knowledge of Yahweh.” We find these full phrases in the Book of Hosea where “the knowledge of

35 For a Pauline parallel see Rom 11,36: … ὅτι ἐξ αὐτοῦ καὶ δι’ αὐτοῦ καὶ εἰς αὐτὸν τὰ πάντα. 36 Other NT passages make this same point with different images. See Rom 8,32; 2 Cor 1,18-20.

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Yahweh” means full, complete, true religion, what we would call “faith.”37 “To know Yahweh” means to experience Yahweh as God. It includes an intellectual component, but it goes well beyond an intellectual knowledge to include emotional components, love, commitment, and conversion which constitute an intimate, enduring relationship, again what we would call deep personal faith.38 It involves exclusive worship of Yahweh and total obedience to his will. “To know Yahweh” appears clustered with other covenant terms in Hosea’s vision of God renewing the covenant by reestablishing his marriage with Israel. And I will betroth you to me forever, in righteousness (‫ ) צֶ ֶד ק‬and justice (‫) ִמ ְשׁ ָפּט‬, in love (‫ ) ֶח ֶסד‬and compassion (‫) ַר ֲח ִמים‬. I will betroth you to me in faithfulness (‫) ֱאמוּנָ ה‬, ְ ‫ )יָ ַד‬Yahweh. (Hos 2,19-20) and you shall know ( ‫עתּ‬

The cluster of terms includes the whole vocabulary of the covenant – righteousness, justice, love, compassion, faithfulness, knowledge of Yahweh; and the terms describe in detail what Yahweh brings to the covenant and what Yahweh demands of Israel, a full, personal, total commitment. Of these terms “love” (‫ ) ֶח ֶסד‬and “knowledge of Yahweh” (‫ ) ַד ַ ת יהוה‬stand out, and Hosea does not hesitate to use the terms elsewhere in parallel clauses as he does here as equivalent terms. For I desire steadfast love (‫ ) ֶח ֶסד‬and not sacrifice, ֶ ‫ ) ַד ַ ת ֱא‬rather than burnt offerings. (Hos 6,6) the knowledge of God (‫&ה ים‬

The use of the two terms in synonymous parallelism shows that for Hosea knowledge includes love. This covenant love (‫ ) ֶח ֶסד‬describes a person-toperson love that endures up to and through death as we learn in the first chapter of the Book of Ruth. When Naomi urges Ruth to leave her, Ruth replies in a way that summarizes concretely what hesed, covenant love, means. Do not press me to leave you or to turn back from following you! Where you go, I will go; Where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God. Where you die, I will die – there will I be buried. 37

Hos 2,8.20; 4,1.6; 5,3.4; 6,3.6; 8,2; 11,3; 13,4-5. See J. M. W ARD, Hosea: A Theological Commentary, New York, N.Y.: Harper & Row 1966, pp. 82-91. 38 Cf. G. FOHRER, Umkehr und Erlösung beim Propheten Hosea, ThZ 11 (1955), pp. 161-185, esp. pp. 168-169; J. BERGMAN/G. J. BOTTERWECK, ‫ ָי ַדּ ע‬, in: TDOT 5 (1986), pp. 476-477.

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May the Lord do thus and so to me, and more as well, if even death parts me from you! (Ruth 1,16-17)

Although the term “covenant love” does not appear in this passage, Naomi goes out of her way to praise the “covenant love” of Ruth in the context of this passage, for the term appears in Naomi’s appeal to her two daughtersin-law. Go back each of you to your mother’s house. May Yahweh deal with love (‫) ֶח ֶסד‬ towards you as you have dealt toward the departed and toward me. (Ruth 1,8)

Ruth personifies covenant love in her total loving devotion to Naomi that overrides any concern Ruth has for her own well being. The series of covenant terms in Hos 2,19-20 climaxes in the final element, “and you shall know Yahweh.” Hosea sets the verb “to know” climactically at the end of the cluster of covenant terms because in a sense it subsumes all of the other terms, including covenant love. A passage from Jeremiah confirms this conclusion, for in the famous passage where Jeremiah predicts a new covenant the other covenant terms drop out and we only find the climactic term “to know.” No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, “Know Yahweh” (‫ ) ְדּ עוּ ֶא ת־יהוה‬for they shall all know (‫ ) ֵי ְד עוּ‬me, from the least of them to the greatest, says Yahweh; for I will forgive their iniquity and remember their sin no more (Jer 31,34). The knowledge of God is both concrete and experiential. It does not refer exclusively to intellectual knowledge, although it includes an intellectual component; but it stretches well beyond intellectual knowledge to include emotional and volitional components. It is the type of knowledge that lovers have for each other with the rich, powerful emotional attachments love generates and with the single will that true love creates. This knowledge binds two persons to each other on all levels of interpersonal communion. For this reason the verb appears in many texts as a euphemism for sexual intercourse. When we read in Genesis that the Man knew his wife and she conceived (Gen 4,1), we think first of the act of conception, but “knowing” really means encountering his wife as wife with the deep personal attachment and understanding characteristic of conjugal love. It includes intimacy, ecstasy, deep emotional attachment, a single will, a core grasp of the Other as Other, and an affirmation of the Other that soars past the affirmation of the Self. Hosea’s use of knowledge of God fits into this conceptual framework because he portrays the renewal of the covenant using marriage symbolism. The marriage relationship serves as the only fit symbol to portray the intense loving relationship God desires to have with the human community. In Q Jesus’ ministry of em-

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bracing the human condition alone fully discloses the knowledge of the Father, the full experience of the Father, the full worship of the Father. It would not be inappropriate to translate γινώσκει as “experiences” in this passage: “No one experiences the Son except the Father, and no one experiences the Father except the Son.”39 The mutual knowledge of the Father and the Son, the mutual experience of the Father and Son, lies at the heart of Homology I. This mutual knowledge and mutual experience includes love, especially the ultimate working out of love in which love for the Other overrides concern for the Self as we see in Ruth. No one loves the Son except the Father, and no one loves the Father except the Son. Fourth, why God reveals. Just as the what question centered on a key word, “to know” (γινώσκω), so the why question centers on a key word, “good pleasure” (εὐδοκία). The word “good pleasure” (εὐδοκία) refers to God’s predilection, God’s good will toward humanity, God’s desire to save.40 What Jesus reveals is the Father’s “good pleasure” to save. The reason God reveals stems simply from the goodness of God’s will. The what question and the why question coalesce. The ministry of Jesus discloses the full contours of God’s saving will, for in Jesus God comes all the way toward humanity. This coming all the way toward humanity has two dimensions, a horizontal dimension and a vertical dimension. On the horizontal plane God embraces every human being equally without showing any favorites. The author of Q makes this point in four ways. First, God repudiates Israel’s election. John announces the repudiation of Israel’s election at the very beginning of Q. In John’s Preaching John levels only a single charge against the brood of vipers he addresses – they claim to be Abraham’s children (Q 3,8). John sweeps this claim to privilege aside by announcing that God repudiates Israel’s election, “God can of these stones raise up children to Abraham” (Q 3,8). Second, no one can claim any privilege in God’s eyes, neither Israel in John’s Preaching (Q 3,8), nor Jesus in the Temptations (Q 4,3.9), nor the Christian in the Sermon (Q 6,46). In Jesus’ Temptations Jesus rejects any claim to privilege he might have as Son of God either to save himself from hunger or to save himself from death (Q 4,3.9). In the Sermon Jesus rejects all Christians who would claim any exemption because of their faith in Jesus 39 This meaning of “to know” as “to experience” surfaces elsewhere in the NT. See, for example, Paul’s “I want to know (γνῶναι) Christ and the power of his resurrection …” (Phil 3,10). 40 Besides this Q passage, compare also Luke 2,14; Eph 1,5.9 where the word also refers to God’s desire to save. The phrase “sons of his good pleasure” appears in 1QH 4:32-33. See C.-H. H UNZINGER, Neues Licht auf Lc 2,14 ἄνθρωποι εὐδοκίας, ZNW 44 (1953), pp. 85-90; J. A. FITZMYER, Peace upon Earth among Men of his Good Pleasure (Lk 2:14), in: Idem, Essays on the Semitic Background of the New Testament (SBibSt 5), Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press 1974, pp. 101-104.

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as “Lord” (Q 6,46).41 Third, besides sweeping aside any claim to privilege, God embraces all of humanity through Jesus’ reaching out to the marginalized. Jesus comes as friend to the tax collector and the sinner; he reaches out to the outcasts and marginalized (Q 7,34). In the Sermon Jesus traces the demands of the kingdom back to the Father’s way of acting. God makes no distinction between people, letting his sun shine on the wicked and the good and sending rain on the just and the unjust (Q 6,35c). No one faces exclusion from the kingdom. Fourth, every individual remains precious in God’s eyes. Jesus as the shepherd leaves the ninety-nine on the mountains and goes after the one who is lost (Q 15,4-5.7). God’s love focuses on each individual human being. When we take these four sets of passages together, the full picture emerges. God’s love embraces all human beings concentrating on each individual without favoring one over another. Everyone receives an invitation to the eschatological banquet, and no one is allowed to stand first in line! On the vertical plane God embraces the entire human condition in Jesus’ ministry and life. First, Jesus’ ministry addresses the full needs of human beings. Jesus moves to relieve human suffering by healing the sick (Q 7,1-3.6-9.22). He realizes that both human and cosmic forces conspire to degrade human life, so he confronts his opponents, both his earthly and his trans-earthly adversaries (Q 11,14-15.17-26.16.29-32). While he confronts his human adversaries, he tirelessly tries to reconcile with them (Q 6,29-31.27-28.35c.32-33.36; 11,4; 12,58-59; 13,34-35; 17,3-4). Jesus summons everyone to a radical faith in God and an exclusive worship of God which alone can lead to a full humanity (Q 4,2b-4.9-12.5-8.13; 7,1-3.6-9; 11,2-4; 12,22b-31; 16,13; 17,6). In his teaching Jesus engages all of the core ethical issues of humanity, and he addresses humans’ deepest ethical needs with his radical ethic of love that includes love of one’s enemies (Q 6,27). Jesus has a clear sense of mission – he was sent to gather in the harvest, to save all people (Q 10,16). He forms an ideal community by drawing disciples around him who accept the demands of the kingdom and continue his mission (Q 9,57-60; 10,2-16). He reaches out to those who are on the margins to include them (Q 7,34). Second, Jesus’ life embraces the full range of human experiences. Q states unambiguously, “The Son of Man came eating and drinking” (Q 41

The three passages that attack any claim to privilege (Q 3,8; 4,3.9; 6,46) clearly belong together. All three appear in the first three pericopes of Q. The rejection of any Jewish claim (Q 3,8) and any Christian claim (6,46) frame Jesus’ decisive rejection of a claim to privilege (Q 4,3.9). Stratigraphic analyses fail to grasp the connections between the three passages. For example, J. Kloppenborg assigns the passages to three different strata of Q. Q 6,46 appears in his Q1; Q 3,8 in his Q2 ; and Q 4,3.9 in his Q3 . See J. S. K LOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q: The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press/Edinburgh: T & T Clark 2000, pp. 143-153.

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7,34), that is fully participating in human life. Right from the beginning of Q, Jesus engages the full human condition by facing and overcoming the basic human temptation to worship bread instead of God (Q 4,2b-4). As the Son of Man Jesus endures homelessness (Q 9,58). In the Temptations the devil twice tries to get Jesus to use his privileged status as Son of God to claim exemption from hunger and death (Q 4,3.9). Jesus refuses. He embraces homelessness, hunger, and death. This second component climaxes in Jesus’ crucifixion (Q 14,27). The cross stands as the symbol that God has come all the way toward humanity in Jesus. Jesus embraces human death as an act of worship of the Father, and in Jesus’ embrace God embraces human death. No human experience lies outside the encounter with God, not even death. We can now summarize the two dimensions of God’s coming all the way toward humanity in Jesus. On the horizontal axis, God accepts all human beings equally. On the vertical axis, God accepts the entire human condition. In many ways these two dimensions, the horizontal and the vertical, make up ultimately one new initiative of God toward humanity, and these two dimensions disclose a new view of humanity. The only truly viable humanity consists of one of absolute equality where no one has more than another, where no one claims special standing in the world or before God, and where no one claims exemption from the full human condition. We can characterize this new understanding of humanity as a radical economic, social, and religious democracy that makes no distinction between human beings, cherishes each individual equally, and does not shrink from any human experience including death. This radical universalism could only emerge in gentile Christianity, the milieu of Q. 42 After probing how God reveals, to whom God reveals, what God reveals, and why God reveals, we are now in a position to understand the key verse – Q 10,22 – that expresses the homology between God and Jesus (Homology I). The verse begins with a strongly emphasized “All”: “All things were handed over to me by my Father …” (Q 10,22a). The pattern of the Father’s life the Father causes to emerge in the life of the Son, the essence of a homology. The content of the “all things” is Jesus’ ministry of healing and teaching leading up to the cross and resurrection. The verse continues “and no one knows the Son except the Father …” (Q 10,22b). No one experiences the Son as Son except the Father who accepts the Son’s worship in the supreme act of love in the cross. The verse concludes “and no one knows the Father except the Son and the one to whom the Son wishes

42 On the milieu of Q, see FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), pp. 161-166; IDEM, The Plot of Q (see n. 4), pp. 63-64.

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to reveal him” (Q 10,22cd). The full experience of God comes only in the ministry of the Son. We can now summarize the dynamic of Homology I. God imposes on the Son the pattern of his decision to come all the way toward humanity to establish a community of radical democracy and to embrace the full human condition including death. Jesus freely accepts the pattern of the Father’s saving will as an act of worship of the Father, the Lord of Heaven and Earth and the Lord of the Harvest, so that the pattern unfolds in Jesus’ ministry. The journey of Jesus is the journey of God. The narrative of Jesus is the narrative of God in Q.

Was „Lücken“ berichten: Exemplarische Beobachtungen zu narrativen „gaps“ in Q Im Andenken an Prof. Dr. Hans Hübner Michael Labahn

1. Vorbemerkungen (1) Es entspricht einer aktuellen exegetischen Tendenz, das „Spruchevangelium Q“, wie einige Forscher und Forscherinnen die gemeinsame Quelle, die aus dem Matthäus- und dem Lukasevangeliums zu erschließen ist,1 nennen,2 mit Hilfe narrativer oder narrativ-hermeneutischer Fragestellungen zu analysieren.3 Die Bezeichnung „Spruchevangelium“ suggeriert – 1 Im Folgenden ist die Zwei-Quellen-Hypothese als Erklärungsmodell für die synoptische Frage vorausgesetzt; vgl. zur Begründung z.B. M. LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender: Die Logienquelle als erzählte Geschichte (Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 32), Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt 2010, S. 27-40. 2 Z.B. J. M. ROBINSON, The Sayings Gospel Q, in: F. Van Segbroeck u.a. (Hgg.), The Four Gospels: FS Frans Neirynck (BEThL 100), 3 Bde., Leuven: Leuven University Press 1992, S. 1:361-388, S. 370ff.; DERS., Logienquelle: Weisheit oder Prophetie ? Anfragen an Migaku Sato, EvTh 53 (1993), S. 367-389, S. 389. 3 Vgl. z.B. H. T. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (Biblical Tools and Studies 1), Leuven: Peeters 2005; DERS., The Plot of Q, EThL 88 (2012), S. 43-69; D ERS., The Narrative of Jesus as the Narrative of God in Q, S. 130-151 (in diesem Band); M. HÜNEBURG, Jesus als Wundertäter in der Logienquelle: Ein Beitrag zur Christologie von Q (Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 4), Leipzig: Evangelische Verlasanstalt 2001; A. JÄRVINEN, The Son of Man and his Followers: A Q Portrait of Jesus, in: D. Rhoads/K. Syreeni (Hgg.), Characterization in the Gospels: Reconceiving Narrative Criticism (JSNTS 184), Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press 1999, S. 180-222; LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (s. Anm. 1); DERS., Sinn im Sinnlosen. Hermeneutische und narratologische Überlegungen zu Q, in: C. Heil/G. Harb/M. Hölscher (Hgg.), Built on Rock or Sand? Q Studies – Retrospects, Introspects and Prospects (BEThL), Leuven: Peeters (im Erscheinen); E. SEVENICH-BAX, Israels Konfrontation mit den letzten Boten der Weisheit: Form, Funktion und Interdependenz der Weisheitselemente in der Logienquelle (MThA 21), Altenberge: Orlos 1993, bes. S. 270f. Ein Überblick über die Forschung bis 2009 findet sich bei LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (s. Anm. 1), S. 63-73. Zur Fragestellung s.a. C. HEIL,

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nicht in jedem Fall intendiert oder anerkannt – eine narrative Ausrichtung dieses Dokuments. Generell ist anerkannt, dass sich Q formal primär aus Reden und Sprüchen Jesu (und des Täufers: Q 3,7-17) zusammensetzt. Nur wenig Stoff ist in Erzählgattungen präsentiert. Dennoch ergibt sich eine zeitliche Abfolge zwischen einem Beginn und einem Ende des Dokuments, das von einer strukturierenden Grundkonzeption, einem plot,4 zusammengehalten wird. Charakterisierungen als eine „ideale Spruch-Biographie“5 oder als ein „Halbevangelium“6 tragen diesem formalen Doppellcharakter Rechnung, indem sie durch die Bestimmung auf narrative Gattungen verweisen und zugleich den Einfluss der Erzählkomponenten für das Gesamtverständnis begrenzen. Die narrativ-biographischen Rahmenelemente, vor allem in der Einleitung zum Dokument Q, werden beachtet,7 dennoch wird der Mangel Evangelium als Gattung: Erzähl- und Spruchevangelien, in: T. Schmeller (Hg.), Historiographie und Biographie im Neuen Testament und seiner Umwelt (NTOA 69), Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 2009, S. 62-94, S. 72. 4 Zur Suche nach dem plot von Q vgl. FLEDDERMANN, The Plot of Q (s. Anm. 3); LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (s. Anm. 1), S. 183-186. 5 D. DORMEYER, Das Neue Testament im Rahmen der antiken Literaturgeschichte: Eine Einführung (Altertumswissenschaft), Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft 1993, S. 214. 6 Z.B. A. J ÜLICHER/E. FASCHER, Einleitung in das Neue Testament (GThW III, 1), 7. Aufl., Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 1931, S. 347. Gemessen am Markusevangelium ist auch nach S. SCHULZ, Q: Die Spruchquelle der Evangelisten, Zürich: Theologischer Verlag 1972, S. 24, die Klassifizierung „Halbevangelium“ für Q zutreffend. S.a. G. STRECKER, Literaturgeschichte des Neuen Testaments (UTB 1682), Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1992, S. 169. Zuletzt ersetzte U. SCHNELLE, Einleitung in das Neue Testament (UTB 1820), 8. Aufl., Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 2013, S. 257, diesen Terminus durch „Proto-Evangelium“, der für eine formale Entwicklung der Logienquelle zur Evangeliengattung hin steht. Auch C. H EIL, Lukas und Q: Studien zur lukanischen Redaktion des Spruchevangeliums Q (BZNW 111), Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 2003, S. 218, bezeichnet die Gattung von Q formal als „Vorform der Gattung Evangelium“. Die Einfügungen des Q-Dokuments in den Erzählstrang des Markusevangeliums bei Matthäus und Lukas zeigen die Grenzen des literarischen Entwicklungsschemas. Es ist vielmehr die formale Eigenständigkeit des Q-Dokuments zwischen analogen Gattungen auszuloten, wobei die Parallelen eher in prophetischen oder philosophischen Texten mit biographischer Orientierung liegen, die die Aussprüche der Hauptfigur in den Vordergrund stellen (vgl. LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender [s. Anm. 1], S. 73: Philosophenbiographien wie etwa Lukians Demonax). 7 Die strukturanalytische Studie von S EVENICH-BAX, Israels Konfrontation (s. Anm. 3), konzentriert sich daher gerade auf den Abschnitt Q 3–7, der am stärksten von direkten Erzählformen durchdrungen ist; vgl. die Hinweise bei C. HEIL, Die Logienquelle Q und das Thomasevangelium, BiHe 43 (2007), S. 21-23, S. 22: „In Q sind die Worte Jesu allerdings oft schon biographisch und erzählerisch gerahmt. Das zeigt sich u.a. in den ausgestalteten Episoden von den Versuchungen Jesu in der Wüste (Q 4,1-13) und der Heilung des Sklaven des Hauptmanns von Kafarnaum (Q 7,1-10). Auch der Gesamtaufriss

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an narrativer Durchformung im Haupt- und Schlussteil des Dokuments betont. (2) Bei der Analyse des Dokuments Q wurde bisher wenig Aufmerksamkeit der literarischen Technik der so genannten „gaps“ oder auch Ellipsen gewidmet. Sie zu erkennen und zu verstehen, trägt nicht nur einiges für die Interpretation von Q als Gesamttext bei, sondern hilft auch deutlich das Ineinander von Spruchformen und narrativen Elementen zu erfassen. Das Verdienst, die Bedeutung der „gaps“ für die narrative Interpretation des Dokumentes Q erkannt zu haben, kommt vor allem Harry T. Fleddermann zu. Nach Fleddermann sind die „gaps“ den Reden der Hauptprotagonisten zu entnehmen: Using the concept of ellipse or gap, we can now clarify how Q is a narrative. The author of Q chooses to present the ministry of Jesus by concentrating exclusively on Jesus’ (and John’s) teaching. The author places Jesus’ speeches and dialogues in the foreground and pushes events like healings, exorcisms, and accounts of Jesus’ travels into the gaps or ellipses between the speeches. The reader receives enough help from the speeches and dialogues to reconstruct the main lines of Jesus’ ministry. For instance, Jesus’ answer to John’s messengers (Q 7,22) alerts the reader to the multiple miracles Jesus worked which the text does not recount. In the Centurion’s Servant the note that Jesus spoke to those following him (Q 7,9) indicates that Jesus attracted a following, and the Lament over 8 Jerusalem (Q 13,34-35) shows that Jesus regularly visited Jerusalem.

Nach Fleddermann lassen verschiedene Reden „gaps“ entstehen; sie berichten von Ereignissen, die im Text von Q nicht erzählt werden. Die Rezipienten werden jedoch durch die Reden dazu aufgefordert, diese Lücken zu füllen. Als Beispiele werden der Wunderkatalog in Q 7,22 und die mehrfachen Reisen Jesu nach Jerusalem genannt (Q 13,34f.).9 Der Grund dieser „lücken“-haften Darstellung liegt nach Fleddermann in der Konzentration des Dokuments auf Jesus als seinem Hauptakteur. Durch die „gaps“ gelingt es den Lesern und Leserinnen, einen chronologisch zu nennenden Ablauf zu konstruieren, so dass sich Q als eine Erzählung präsentiere: Q contains all the elements of narrative – plot, character, setting, narrative voice, theme, and tone. By foregrounding the speeches and dialogues the author of Q rivets the reader’s attention on Jesus’ kingdom proclamation. Although the action events recede into the 10 gaps, the reader can construct a full picture of Jesus’ ministry as we have seen.

von Q zeigt eine sinnvolle Abfolge von der Predigt Johannes’ des Täufers (Q 3,2f.79.16f.) bis zu Worten Jesu über die Endzeit (Q 17,23-37; 19,12-26; 22,28.30)“. 8 FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 105. 9 Zur Interpretation von Q 13,34b durch Fleddermann vgl. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 705. 10 FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 105.

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(3) Einen chronologischen Ablauf sieht auch Larry W. Hurtado im Dokument Q entwickelt, der die Analyse Fleddermanns um weitere rezeptionsästhetische Argumente ergänzt: I submit that those who composed Q fully expected readers to bring this ‚story,‘ which we might term the ‚enabling narrative,‘ to their reading of this text. That is, Q reflects an underlying ‚narrative substructure‘ concerned with Jesus as the special and authoritative 11 figure presented as heralded, active, rejected, and vindicated.

Nach Hurtado ist die ‚narrative Substruktur‘ eine Konstruktion des intendierten Lesers, der aufgrund von Textsignalen die ‚story‘ entwickelt – diese wichtige Anregung aus dem Bereich der Rezeptionsästhetik kann durch die Fragestellung der narrativen „gaps“ erweitert und vor allem am Text begründet werden. (4) Die „gaps“ als markierte Auslassungen bzw. Abbreviationen und Zeitsprünge lassen sich als Zeichen verstehen, die auf der Ebene der Rezeption einerseits Erzählelemente in den Text einfügen, ohne diese Episoden selbst zu erzählen, und andererseits eine narrative und mithin chronologische Folge12 entwickeln. Dort, wo im Text durch den Erzähler oder die Protagonisten Aktionen der Erzählfiguren berichtet, aber nicht entfaltet werden oder auf nicht im Text erzählte Geschehnisse hingewiesen wird, werden die Rezipienten zu einer eigenen narrativen Konstruktionsleistung animiert, die chronologische Strukturen, aber auch narrative Episoden gezielt ergänzt. Fleddermann hat mit den Beobachtungen in seinem QKommentar eine wichtige Spur gelegt, narrative Methoden und Hermeneutik in die Auslegung des Q-Dokuments zu integrieren und damit die Kohärenz des vor allem aus Redeformen bestehenden Textes noch genauer zu analysieren. Die so genannten „gaps“ (zu Bestimmung s. Abschn. 2) stellen dabei ein Phänomen dar, das über die oftmals als die Kohärenz belastenden,13 11 L. W. H URTADO, Lord Jesus Christ: Devotion to Jesus in Earliest Christianity, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 2003, S. 246f. 12 Zum konstitutiven Element der chronologischen Abfolge für eine Erzählung vgl. z.B. H. LINDEMANN, Wrinkles in Time: Narrative Approaches to Ethics, in: G. Pfleiderer/ C. Rehmann-Sutter (Hgg.), Zeithorizonte des Ethischen: Zur Bedeutung der Temporalität in der Fundamental- und Bioethik, Stuttgart: Kohlhammer 2006, S. 123-132, S. 124; Beobachtungen zur Zeitstruktur in Q sammelt LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (s. Anm. 1), S. 191-242. 13 Die narrativen Passagen zu Beginn des Dokuments Q sind ein Argument für A. LINDEMANN, Die Logienquelle Q: Fragen an eine gut begründete Hypothese, in: Ders. (Hg.), The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus (BEThL 158), Leuven: Leuven University Press/Peeters 2001, S. 3-26, die rekonstruierte Quelle des Matthäus- und Lukasevangeliums erst in Q 6,20bff. beginnen zu lassen. Allerdings stellt dieser Einwand m.E. die literarkritische Bestimmung von Q insgesamt in Frage. In den literarhistorischen und stratigraphischen Analysen stellen die narrativ-biographischen Elemente zumeist ein

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rudimentären erzählerischen Elemente hinausgehend auch durch die Worte und Reden Jesu eine narrative Erzählwelt bei den Rezipienten aufbaut. Wichtig ist dabei, dass die narrativen Elemente nicht den strittigen Erzählpassagen, sondern vor allem den Sprüchen und Reden zu entnehmen sind. So sind die „gaps“ und die von ihnen intendierten Konstruktionsleistungen der Rezipienten als entscheidender Bestandteil der „story“ auch für das Verstehen des Q-Dokuments auszuwerten.

2. „Gaps“, Auslassungen oder Ellipsen und ihre Bedeutung für eine Erzählung (1) Jeglicher Text setzt die Imaginationsfähigkeit seiner Rezpienten voraus und nutzt sie, um seine Zielrichtungen zu entwickeln. Bekanntlich bringen erst seine Leser und Leserinnen den Text zum Leben – ohne sie gibt es kein Verstehen des Textes. Ihr Anteil an der Konstruktion der Erzählwelt und dem Erzählablauf ist kaum zu unterschätzen und wird durch jede Erzählung gezielt eingesetzt. Die Rezeption der Leser und Leserinnen lässt aus den Worten und Episoden eines Textes erst Geschichte(n) entstehen. In diesem (gelenkten) Konstruktionsprozess spielen die so genannten Auslassungen, „gaps“ oder Ellipsen einer Erzählung14 eine besondere Rolle.15 Methodisch gehören sie zur Analyse der Erzählzeit hinzu, in der die Erzähldauer ins Verhältnis zur erzählten Zeit gesetzt wird. Das Dargestellte wird zeitlich so gerafft, dass die Erzählung geradezu still steht;16 durch den Erzählablauf wird signalisiert, dass in der Erzählwelt NichtBerichtetes geschehen ist. Unterscheiden lassen sich explizite wie implizite Ellipsen, wobei die explizite Ellipse sprachlich die Auslassung als solche Spätphänomen der Textentwicklung dar: vgl. z.B. J. S. KLOPPENBORG, The Formation of Q: Trajectories in Ancient Wisdom Collections (Studies in Antiquity and Christianity), Philadelphia, Pa.: Fortress Press 1999. Diese Überlegungen sind im Lichte der Analyse der „gaps“ wenigstens ergänzungsbedürftig. 14 M. MARTÍNEZ/M. SCHEFFEL, Einführung in die Erzähltheorie (C. H. Beck Studium), München: C. H. Beck 1999, S. 42, sprechen vom „Zeitsprung“. 15 Vgl. z.B. G. GENETTE, Die Erzählung (UTB.W), 2. Aufl., München: Fink 1998; E. LÄMMERT, Bauformen des Erzählens, 2. Aufl., Stuttgart: Metzler 1967, S. 23f.; MARTINEZ/SCHEFFEL, Einführung in die Erzähltheorie (s. Anm. 14), S. 42f. S.a. B. W. LONGENECKER, Hearing the Silence: Jesus on the Edge and God in the Gap: Luke 4 in Narrative Perspective, Eugene, Oreg.: Cascade Books 2012, S. 1-13; M. STERNBERG, The Poetics of Biblical Narrative: Ideological Literature and the Drama of Reading (Indiana Literary Biblical Series), Bloomington, Ind.: Indiana University Press 1985, S. 186-193; T. WIARDA, Interpreting Gospel Narratives: Scenes, People, and Theology, Nashville, Tenn.: B & H Academic 2010, S. 38. 16 So MARTINEZ/SCHEFFEL, Einführung in die Erzähltheorie (s. Anm. 14), S. 44.

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direkt kennzeichnet,17 während die implizite durch die Rezipienten lediglich indirekt zu erschließen ist. Für beide Arten von „gaps“ gilt, dass sie durch das literarische wie durch das kulturelle Wissen gesteuert sind und nicht willkürlich, sondern geleitet ausgefüllt werden.18 (2) Die Nutzung von „gaps“ gehört nach Eberhard Lämmert zum Spezifikum jeglichen Erzählens hinzu, aus dem die besondere Perspektive des Erzählers gewonnen werden kann: Die Spannungen zwischen dem vorgespiegelten realen Geschehen und seiner erzählerischen Bewältigung beruhen zunächst auf der Spannung zwischen realer und sprachgetragener, d. h. intentionaler Wirklichkeit schlechthin. Sprache kann Gegenstände und Vorgänge nicht nachahmen, sondern nur andeuten und soweit bewußt machen, als es für den jeweiligen Zweck der Aussage notwendig ist. Durch Andeutung jedoch macht der Sprecher das Ganze aus seiner Perspektive sichtbar. Mit seiner Auswahl aus dem unbegrenzten Ganzen, das ihm real oder fiktiv zur Verfügung steht, erstellt er ein begrenztes Ganzes, getreu dem Gesetz, daß alles Bilden und insbesondere das Bilden von Men19 schenhand ein Weglassen sei.

Das Verweilen, Raffen und Weglassen des Erzählers verleiht nicht nur bestimmten Stadien des Geschehens einen besonderen Akzent, sondern läßt den gesamten erzählten Stoff als 20 etwas Neugestaltetes aus der Monotonie der bloßen Sukzession heraustreten.

„Gaps“ haben also einerseits einen literarisch-gestalterischen Charakter; sie gestalten die Erzählung ästhetisch ansprechender und abwechslungsreicher. Zugleich aber gehören sie auch in den Bereich der Stoffselektion und in die Sinnbildungskompentenz einer Erzählung hinein. Welche Bedeutung solche Raffungen der Erzählzeit im Einzelnen haben, ist der jeweiligen Auslassung zu entnehmen. Als Auslöser für eine Konstruktionsleistung durch die Rezipienten ist mit den „gaps“ eine Signalsetzung zu verbinden. Gerade im Zuge einer rezeptionsästhetischen Fragestellung werden „gaps“ als leserlenkendes Instrument der Erzählung begriffen.21 17

Beispiel: Eine Person tut etwas … danach geht er/sie in Ausgehkleidung davon. Das Tun selbst und was vor dem Davongehen geschieht, wie etwa das Ankleiden und die Auswahl der Kleidung, werden nicht berichtet. 18 Vgl. die Liste der leserleitenden Faktoren bei STERNBERG, The Poetics of Biblical Narrative (s. Anm. 15), S. 189: „a. the different materials – actional, thematic, normative, structuring – explicitly communicated by the text; b. the work’s language and poetics; c. the perceptual set established by the work’s generic features; d. the special nature and laws and regularities of the world it projects, as impressed on the reader starting from the first page; e. basic assumptions or general canons of probability derived from ‘everyday life’ and prevalent cultural conventions.“ 19 LÄMMERT, Bauformen des Erzählens (s. Anm. 15), S. 22. 20 LÄMMERT, Bauformen des Erzählens (s. Anm. 15), S. 23. 21 Vgl. J. FREY, Der implizite Leser und die biblischen Texte, ThBeitr 23 (1992), S. 266-290.

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(3) Das Modell des „Zeitsprungs“ verweist im Rahmen der Erzählzeitanalyse primär auf Erzählnotizen; es wäre, wie bereits gesehen, eine Verkürzung, „gaps“ und Ellipsen ausschließlich in den Erzählpassagen eines Textes zu suchen. Die Reden der Akteure treiben als Sprechhandlungen ihrerseits das erzählte Geschehen voran oder bringen die berichteten Abläufe ins Stoppen. Zugleich enthalten sie ebenfalls explizite oder implizite Ellipsen, die auf nicht-berichtetes Geschehen hinweisen. Insofern legt Fleddermann zu Recht sein Augenmerk auf die Sprüche und Reden des Johannes und Jesu, um die Rolle der „gaps“ für die Erzählanalyse von Q zu erheben. (4) Die Analyse der „gaps“ schließt den Redestoff ein. Es werden Aspekte der Stoffselektion berührt, ohne dass dies schon im Sinne einer Wertung zu verstehen ist. Auslassungen verweisen nicht notwendig auf Desinteresse am Übersprungenen, sondern signalisieren einen Befund in der Darstellung der Erzählzeit, den es zu analysieren und zu bewerten gilt. Dabei sind wesentliche Informationen für die Perspektive des Textes zu gewinnen. Zugleich erweitert die Analyse der „gaps“ auch die Einsichten in die Narrativität von Q und in die chronologischen Strukturen seiner „story“.

3. Die Öffnung neuer Welten und Horizonte – Analyse exemplarischer „gaps“ in Q22 3.1 Die Welt der Wunder im Q-Dokument (Q 7,22; 10,9.13; 11,14.19) (1) Einen wesentlichen Bestandteil der Erzählüberlieferung über Jesus aus Nazaret bilden die Wundergeschichten, die mit ihm und seinen Nachfolgern verbunden sind.23 Der Befund in Q erscheint dabei auf den ersten Blick relativ ernüchternd und eher negativ. Aus dem breiten Spektrum

22

Im Rahmen dieses Beitrages lässt sich nur eine Auswahl von „gaps“ in Q vorstellen und diskutieren. Die Auswahl belegt, welches Potential für das Verständnis von Q dieser Erzählform innewohnt. Auf eine Analyse der möglichen Vorgeschichte der vorgestellten Passagen und ihrer Rekonstruktionsprobleme muss im Rahmen dieser Studie ebenfalls weitgehend verzichtet werden. 23 Vgl. z.B. die Darstellung bei B. KOLLMANN, Jesus und die Christen als Wundertäter: Studien zu Magie, Medizin und Schamanismus in Antike und Christentum (FRLANT 170), Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1996; J. P. MEIER, A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus: 2. Mentor, Message, and Miracles (ABRL), New York, N.Y.: Doubleday 1994; R. Z IMMERMANN u.a. (Hgg.), Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen I: Die Wunder Jesu, Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2013, mit jeweils weiterer Literatur.

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frühchristlicher Erzählkunst werden nur zwei Wundergeschichten in Q aufgeführt und zwar in entscheidend verkürzter Form.24 Die Heilung des Sklaven eines heidnischen Offiziers25 stellt sich in Q primär als ein Dialog über die Vollmacht des Helden dar, wobei die Form von Fernheilungen generell formal redelastig ist – die Heilung, zu der der Wundertäter nicht persönlich erscheint, muss durch einen Bittsteller, der die Würdigkeit des Heilenden und die Notwendigkeit der Heilung begründet, ausgelöst werden. Der einzige Exorzismus von Q ist ebenfalls ein Rahmenereignis (Q 11, 14) für einen anschließenden Konfliktdialog (Q 11,15-20), der in einen Monolog Jesu (Q 11,21-26) mündet. Der nachgezeichnete Textbefund scheint in Hinblick auf die Erzählüberlieferung den eingangs genannten Befund zu unterstützen und ein Desinteresse an der Erzählüberlieferung von Jesu Wundertätigkeit in Q zu bestätigen. Wird der Blick jedoch auf die „gaps“ ausgeweitet und damit die in den Sprechakten erwähnten Taten, so stellt sich die Rolle der Wunder Jesu für Q differenzierter dar. (2) Q 7 ist ein beachtliches Beispiel für „elliptische Redeweise“, mit der Q seine Rezipienten in die Konstruktion seiner Jesus-„story“ lenkend einbindet. Im Folgenden ist zunächst auf den Katalog endzeitlicher Wunder in Q 7,22 zu verweisen, der in mancherlei Weise zeigt, wie Q „gaps“ verwendet. In Q 7,18 entsteht durch die vom Erzähler referierte Täuferfrage und die Gesandtschaft seiner Jünger das narrative setting für Jesu Spruch über die endzeitlichen Wunder. Diese Erzählüberleitung selbst ist ein enigmatischer Text, der mit mancherlei Auslassungen arbeitet: Und ⟦als⟧ Johannes ⟦von all dem⟧26 hörte, schickte er und «ließ» ihm durch seine Jünger 19 sagen: …27

18

24

Vgl. zur Rezeption der Wunderüberlieferung in Q H ÜNEBURG, Jesus als Wundertäter (s. Anm. 3). S.a. DERS., Jesus als Wundertäter: Zu einem vernachlässigten Aspekt des Jesusbildes von Q, in: Lindemann (Hg.), The Sayings Source Q (s. Anm. 13), S. 635-648. 25 Vgl. hierzu z.B. die Untersuchungen von U. WEGNER, Der Hauptmann von Kafarnaum (Mt 7,28a; 8,5-10.13 par Lk 7,1-10): Ein Beitrag zur Q-Forschung (WUNT II, 14), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 1985; s.a. HÜNEBURG , Jesus als Wundertäter (s. Anm. 3), S. 125-140; DERS., Heilung per Befehl (Der Hauptmann von Kafarnaum) Q 7,1.3.6b-9, in: Zimmermann u.a. (Hgg.), Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen I (s. Anm. 23), S. 173-182; D. DORMEYER, Q 7,1.3.6b-9.?10?: Der Hauptmann von Kafarnaum: Narrative Strategie mit Chrie, Wundergeschichte und Gleichnis, S. 179-195 (in diesem Band). Zur Auslegungs- und Rekonstruktionsgeschichte: S. R. J OHNSON, Q 7:1-10: The Centurion’s Faith in Jesus’ Word (Documenta Q), Leuven: Peeters 2002. 26 Die Rekonstruktion der Begründung, weshalb sich der Täufer an Jesus wendet, erweist sich als nahezu aussichtslos, da beide Textrezipienten das Material aus Q souverän in ihre Erzählung integriert und an ihre Erzählgepflogenheiten angepasst haben;

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Der offensichtlich lokal von Jesus getrennte Täufer hört von „diesem allem“ (πάντων τούτων); diese Formulierung verortet das Apophthegma Q 7,18-23 auf der Textebene in den größeren Zusammenhang von Q, der sich nach der Versuchung, die in Q keine externen Zeugen benennt, ereignet: die Versuchungsgeschichte (Q 4,1-13), die Eingangspredigt Jesu (Q 6,2049) und die ebenfalls sprechlastige Heilung zu Kafarnaum (Q 7,1-⟦10⟧). Dennoch bleibt die Frage offen, ob das πάντων τούτων nicht umfassender zu deuten ist. Das Adjektiv πᾶς kann eine elliptische Funktion haben, in der der ideale Leser seine Jesuserinnerung einbringen kann. Die Wendung weist über den Erzählkontext hinaus und hat das Potential, die Jesuserinnerung bzw. eine Selektion durch die jeweiligen Rezipienten in die Textwelt zu integrieren, wobei Q 6,20b-7,⟦10⟧ exemplarisch stehen und Anleitung geben kann, wie das „gap“ gefüllt werden kann. Das Gehörte (und vom Hörer/Leser als „dies alles“ Bestimmte) veranlasst den Täufer zu einer Gesandtschaft, die aus seinen Jüngern besteht, welche an seiner Stelle die Frage an Jesus richten, ob er der angekündigte Kommende ist oder ob auf eine andere Person gewartet werden soll; in der Episode geht es also um die Bedeutung Jesu im Horizont seiner Einführung in das Dokument durch die Täuferrede, Q 3,16b-17. Jenseits aller historischen Rekonstruktionsversuche28 entsteht durch die indirekt erzählte Täuferfrage eine Reihe von „gaps“, die ihre Spitze in Jesu Antwort finden werden. Übergangen werden die Erwähnung des Aufenthaltsorts von Johannes, die Angabe, woher seine Jünger stammen, und eine Beschreibung, welchen Weg sie zu Jesus zurücklegen.29 F LEDDERMANN Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 354f., folgt der kürzeren mt. Version (ohne ἀκούσας ἐν τῷ δεσµωτηρίῳ und τὰ ἔργα τοῦ Χριστοῦ, die der mt. Gestaltung entsprechen; vgl. hierzu U. LUZ, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus [EKK I], 4 Bde., Zürich: Benziger Verlag/Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag 1985–2002, S. 2:164). Auch dieser von J. M. ROBINSON/P. H OFFMANN/J. S. KLOPPENBORG (eds.), The Critical Edition of Q: A Synopsis Including the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, Mark and Thomas: With English, German and French Translations of Q and Thomas (Hermeneia Supplements), Leuven: Peeters/Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2000, abweichende Rekonstruktion stellt einen, allerdings impliziten, „gap“ dar, der die Rezipienten vor die Lücke stellt, warum Johannes eine Gesandtschaft aussendet. 27 Übersetzung und Textrekonstruktion hier und im Folgenden nach P. HOFFMANN/C. H EIL (Hgg.), Die Spruchquelle Q: Studienausgabe, 3. Aufl., Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft/Leuven: Peeters 2009. 28 Vgl. z.B. die Darstellung bei K. BACKHAUS, Die „Jüngerkreise“ des Täufers Johannes: Eine Studie zu den religionsgeschichtlichen Ursprüngen des Christentums (PThSt 19), Paderborn: F. Schöningh 1991. 29 Mt 11,2 ergänzt zumindest den Aufenthaltsort: ἐν τῷ δεσµωτηρίῳ. Das psychologische Interesse an der Motivation der Täuferfrage beschäftigt die Exegese bis in die Gegenwart; z.B. H. STETTLER, Die Bedeutung der Täuferanfrage in Matthäus 11,26 par Lk 7,18-23 für die Christologie, Bib 89 (2008), S. 173-200. Vgl. Darstellung und

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Die Frage vom örtlich getrennten Täufer ist Jesus durch den Erzähler mittels Gesandtschaft unmittelbar vorgelegt. Die Antwort Jesu auf die Täuferfrage Q 7,22 ist ein Katalog verschiedener außergewöhnlicher Ereignisse, die die Frage nach der Identität zwischen dem Kommenden und seiner Person positiv und inhaltlich entfaltend klären sollen: Und er antwortete und sagte ihnen: Geht und berichtet Johannes, was ihr hört und seht (πορευθέντες ἀπαγγείλατε Ἰωάννῃ ἃ εἴδετε καὶ ἠκούσατε): Blinde sehen wieder, und Lahme gehen umher, Aussätzige werden rein, und Taube hören, und Tote werden erweckt, und Arme bekommen eine gute Botschaft.

Die Jünger des Johannes werden von Jesus zurückgeschickt mit der Aufforderung zu berichten, was sie gesehen und gehört haben. Dies setzt voraus, dass die Jünger Gelegenheit hatten, etwas zu sehen und zu hören; diese Wahrnehmungen werden jedoch nicht berichtet. Somit stellt sich wie bereits für das πάντων τούτων (V. 18) die Frage, worauf sich das ἃ εἴδετε καὶ ἠκούσατε bezieht. In Q 6 wird berichtet, wie Jesus seine Jünger unterweist; ihre Seligpreisung als Arme kann als Prolepse der Verkündigung des Evangeliums an die Armen verstanden werden (πτωχοὶ εὐαγγελίζονται); eine Verkündigung, die so effektiv ist, dass sie zu einer Neubestimmung der Adressaten durch die Seligpreisung führt. Die aufgelisteten endzeitlichen Wunder des Kataloges (vgl. Jes 26,19; 29,18f.; 35,5f.; 42,7.18; 61,130 sowie den gleichartigen Katalog 4Q521 Frgm 2 II 4-1331) finden in Q 7,1ff. nur mühsam eine Prolepse, da über das Kritik bei P. HOFFMANN, Vom Freudenboten zum Feuertäufer: Johannes der Täufer und Jesus von Nazaret in Q 7, in: U. Busse/M. Reichardt/M. Theobald (Hgg.), Erinnerung an Jesus: Kontinuität und Diskontinuität in der neutestamentlichen Überlieferung: FS R. Hoppe (BBB 166), Göttingen: V&R unipress/Bonn University Press 2011, S. 87-106, bes. S. 88-91. In Q reicht der Hinweis auf das bisherige Geschehen (und das Wissen der Rezipienten) als Grund für die Anfrage aus – es geht um die Verhältnisbestimmung zwischen der Täuferankündigung in der Texteinleitung (Q 3,7-17) und dem Gekommensein des Kommenden in Q 4ff. 30 Zur Analyse der Referenztexte vgl. z.B. T. HIEKE, Q 7,22 – A Compendium of Isaian Eschatology, EThL 82 (2006), S. 175-188. 31 M. LABAHN, The Significance of Signs in Luke 7:22-23 in the Light of Isaiah 61 and the Messianic Apocalypse, in: C. A. Evans (Hg.), From Prophecy to Testament: The Function of the Old Testament in the New, Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson Publishers 2004, S. 146-168. Aus der umfangreichen Literatur zu 4Q521 vgl. J. ZIMMERMANN, Messianische Texte aus Qumran: Königliche, priesterliche und prophetische Messiasvorstellungen in den Schriftfunden von Qumran (WUNT II, 104), Tübingen: Mohr

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κακῶς ἔχων des παῖς des Hauptmanns keine nähere Angabe gemacht wird32 und sich die Erkrankung nur schwer in den Katalog von Q 7,22 einfügen lässt.33 Die Heilung des παῖς des Hauptmanns ist bestenfalls als Beispieltext Vorwegnahme für das in der Auflistung genannte heilbringende Geschehen. Man wird Fleddermann zustimmen müssen, wenn er die Auflistung der Wunder als „gaps“ betrachtet, die durch die Adressaten gefüllt werden müssen.34 Der Katalog von Endzeitereignissen in Q 7,22 schildert endzeitliches Geschehen, wie das intertextuelle Spiel mit Referenztexten aus Jesaja erkennen lässt. Solche Taten ereignen sich in der Zeit Jesu sowie der Fragesteller und sind für jedermann wahrnehmbar (εἴδετε καὶ ἠκούσατε). Darüber hinaus werden die Rezipienten von Q durch die Ellipse mit den Jüngern des Johannes zusammen genommen und sollen mit ihnen „sehen und hören“ – die Verbformen in der zweiten Person Plural sind textübergreifend. Der Rezeptionsprozess ergänzt somit nicht nur die literarische Auslassung im Q-Text, sondern leitet auch einen Verstehensprozess ein, der die eigene Welt der Adressaten im Licht der „gaps“ zu verstehen lehrt. Die Rezipienten sollen selbst „sehen und hören“ und somit verstehen, dass die von Jesus angesagte Präsenz des Gottesreiches bis zu ihnen gekommen ist. Damit wird die Textwelt bis zur realen Welt der Adressaten hin geöffnet und zu ihrer Identitätsbildung aktualisiert. Zugleich wird die Textwelt durch die Konstruktion der „story“ um Geschichten von eschatologischen Heilsereignissen erweitert. Ein Täter der Wunder wird in Q 7,22 nicht genannt, so dass zunächst das Heilsgeschehen selbst im Mittelpunkt steht. Durch die Referenztexte, aber auch durch die Erwähnung von Totenerweckungen ist an Gott als Handelnden bzw. als Ursache des Geschehens zu denken;35 auf Gott als Siebeck 1998, S. 343-389; M. BECKER, Die „messianische Apokalypse“ 4Q521 und der Interpretationsrahmen der Taten Jesu, in: Ders./J. Frey (Hgg.), Apokalyptik und Qumran (Einblicke: Ergebnisse – Berichte – Reflexionen aus Tagungen der Katholischen Akademie Schwerte 10), Paderborn: Bonifatius 2007, S. 237-303; K.-W. NIEBUHR, Die Werke des eschatologischen Freudenboten (4Q521 und die Jesusüberlieferung), in: C. M. Tuckett (Hg.), The Scriptures in the Gospels (BEThL 131), Leuven: Leuven University Press 1997, S. 637-646; É. P UECH, Some Remarks on 4Q246 and 4Q521 and Qumran Messianism, in: D. W. Parry/E. Ulrich (Hgg.), The Provo International Conference on the Dead Sea Scrolls: Technological Innovations, New Texts, and Reformulated Issues (STDJ 30), Leiden: E. J. Brill 1999, S. 545-565. 32 Anders Mt 8,6: … ὁ παῖς µου βέβληται ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ παραλυτικός, δεινῶς βασανιζόµενος …; vgl. Q 7,22: … χωλοὶ περιπατοῦσιν … 33 Vgl. z.B. H OFFMANN, Vom Freudenboten zum Feuertäufer (s. Anm. 29), S. 94. 34 S.o. S. 154. 35 Dies unterstreicht zuletzt bes. H OFFMANN, Vom Freudenboten zum Feuertäufer (s. Anm. 29), S. 94.

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Handelnden bzw. als Ursache des Handelns verweisen zudem die Passivformen ἐγείρονται und εὐαγγελίζονται.36 Der Kontext der Täuferanfrage fügt der Rezeptionsoffenheit der Heilsereignisse eine Kodierung hinzu. Auch wenn Q 7,1ff. nicht in den Katalog passt, so zeigt es Jesus als Figur, die zu Heilungen aus der Ferne fähig ist und die ἐξουσία (Q 7,8) besitzt. Es erfolgt eine christologische Konkretisierung des Katalogs, die Jesus entscheidenden Anteil in diesem Katalog gibt. Zumindest als Möglichkeit ist auch an die Öffnung des Katalogs bis in die Gegenwart der Rezipienten zu denken. Sie selbst werden in der Aussendungsrede (Q 10,2-16) das Heil Gottes in die Häuser tragen (Frieden für die Kinder des Friedens: ἐλθάτω ἡ εἰρήνη ὑµῶν ἐπ᾽ αὐτόν; V. 6) und Heilungen vornehmen (καὶ θεραπεύετε τοὺς ἐν αὐτῇ ἀσθεν〚οῦντας〛; V. 9a). Die Seligpreisung derer, die nicht an Jesus Anstoß nehmen (Q 7,23), impliziert ein negatives Urteil über die, die an ihm Anstoß nehmen, gerade vor dem Katalog des eschatologischen, sich Gott verdankenden Heilsgeschehens, das besonders den Armen zu Gute kommt (vgl. πτωχοὶ εὐαγγελίζονται mit Q 6,20b: µακάριοι οἱ πτωχοί). Als Fortsetzung des Katalogs der Heilereignisse in Q 7,22 wird eine besondere Rolle Jesu in diesem Geschehen herausgestellt, so dass die Antwort Jesu (Q 7,22) nicht nur allgemein auf die göttlichen Zeichen der Endzeit geht, sondern zugleich christologisch gefüllt ist. So erhält die Täuferfrage eine Antwort und die Einleitung zu Q eine Präzisierung, indem die Gerichtsfunktion des Kommenden in Q 3,7-17 korrigiert wird, ohne das Gerichtsthema außer Kraft zu setzen.37 Die Ellipse in Q 7,22 eröffnet einen Verstehensprozess der auf die Rezipienten zielt. Die Anonymität der Heilsereignisse verweist auf Gott als deren Ursache, lässt aber auch andere Täter als Jesus zu. Zugleich ist damit eine Markierung gesetzt, die die Frage nach Referenztexten stellt: das Heilsgeschehen entspricht dem in den Schriften Israels, näherhin im Jesajabuch, vorhergesagten endzeitlichen Handeln Gottes. Der Kontext setzt weitergehende christologische Vorzeichen, so dass vergleichbar mit Q 11,20 Jesus als Gottes herausragendes Werkzeug betrachtet werden kann. Ohne dass eindeutig erkennbar wäre, auf welche Überlieferungen an36

HOFFMANN, Vom Freudenboten zum Feuertäufer (s. Anm. 29), S. 94. S.a. HOFFMANN, Vom Freudenboten zum Feuertäufer (s. Anm. 35), S. 97: „Lesen wir 7,22f. als Antwort Jesu auf die Johannesfrage, so zeichnet sich eine entscheidende Neuinterpretation der Täuferbotschaft ab. Johannes hatte Israel mit dem unmittelbar bevorstehenden Zorngericht Gottes durch den kommenden Feuertäufer konfrontiert: Gerettet wird nur, wer die angemessene Frucht der Umkehr bringt. Für die Q-Redaktion bleibt diese Botschaft gültig, wie deren Rezeption am Beginn und der Ausblick auf den Tag des Menschensohnes am Ende der Spruchsammlung (Q 17) zeigt. Die Gegenwart ist aber durch Jesu Ankündigung von Gottes gegenwärtigem Heilshandeln an den Armen und Kranken bestimmt.“ 37

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gespielt wird, erhalten so die Traditionen von Jesus als Wundertäter einen Platz in der Erzählwelt von Q – durch eine explizite Auslassung werden die Rezipienten animiert, die Leerstellen zu füllen. Gerade im Überschuss gegen den Kontext in Q öffnet sich die Textwelt für die Welt der Rezipienten, denen ebenfalls ἀπαγγείλατε … ἃ εἴδετε καὶ ἠκούσατε gilt. Hier sind die Adressaten gefordert, ihre Welt zu verstehen und in ihr aktiv zu werden. Dabei wird nicht allein ihre Jesuserinnerung in den Text integriert, sondern auch ihr missionarisches Heilswirken in dem durch Jesus den Menschen nahekommenden Heilshandeln Gottes fortgesetzt. (3) Im Weheruf gegen Chorazin und Betsaida (Q 10,13-15) wird den Orten38 vorgehalten, dass sie vor der Negativfolie von Tyrus und Sidon sich schlimmer als diese heidnischen Städte verhalten haben (Q 10,13), was eine rhetorische Verschärfung darstellt.39 Für diesen Vorwurf wird als Begründung angegeben: Denn wenn in Tyrus und Sidon die Machttaten geschehen wären, die bei euch geschehen sind (ὅτι εἰ ἐν Τύρῳ καὶ Σιδῶνι ἐγενήθησαν αἱ δυνάµεις αἱ γενόµεναι ἐν ὑµῖν), längst wären sie in Sack und Asche umgekehrt.

Jesus als Sprecher des Weherufes verweist explizit auf δυνάµεις, die bereits vor seinem Weheruf in Chorazin und Betsaida (ἐν ὑµῖν) geschehen sind (ἐγενήθησαν). Er stellt keinen ausdrücklichen Bezug auf sein eigenes Handeln her, so dass die Schlussfolgerung, es gehe um die Wunder Jesu,40 die Urheberschaft der δυνάµεις zu sehr eingrenzt. Das Geschehen lässt sich mit dem Sprecher (wichtig die Seligpreisung in Q 11,23, die die Autorität des sendenden Jesus unterstreicht), aber auch den Q-Boten (vgl. den folgenden Hinweis auf die Aufnahme und Ablehnung der Q-Boten; Q 10,16) verbinden, wobei keine eindeutige Entscheidung zwischen beiden Polen zu treffen ist.

38

Zu Betsaida vgl. S. FORTNER, Betsaida/Iulias in hellenistisch-römischer Zeit – Von der komé zur pólis des Philippus, in: G. Fassbeck u.a. (Hgg.), Leben am See Gennesaret: Kulturgeschichtliche Entdeckungen in einer biblischen Region (Sonderbände der Antiken Welt), Mainz: Zabern 2003, S. 104-109. 39 Vgl. HÜNEBURG , Jesus als Wundertäter (s. Anm. 3), S. 167f. 40 Z.B. HÜNEBURG, Jesus als Wundertäter (s. Anm. 3), S. 166f.; s.a. z.B. D. LÜHRMANN, Die Redaktion der Logienquelle (WMANT 33), Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener 1969, S. 64; SCHULZ, Q: Die Spruchquelle (s. Anm. 6), S. 364f. Auf das Wirken der Q-Boten bezieht den Weheruf z.B. K OLLMANN, Jesus und die Christen (s. Anm. 23), S. 318: „Die Q-Stofffolge mit ihrer Anfügung von Lk 10,13-15 an die Aussendungsrede Lk 10,1-12 und deren Wunderbeauftragung impliziert, daß es sich bei den δυνάµεις um Machttaten der Q-Missionare handelt, die in Anlehnung an die Aussendungsinstruktion Lk 10,5par in Chorazin und Bethsaida gewirkt wurden, um diese Städte erfolglos zur Umkehr zu bewegen.“

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Die Machttaten in Chorazin und Betsaida, die der Beurteilung dieser Orte zugrunde liegen, werden im Dokument Q nirgends berichtet, so dass keine Wiederaufnahme bereits erzählten Geschehens vorliegt. Als Ellipse wird eine Mehrzahl von Machttaten, in denen das eschatologische Heil ansichtig wurde und die eine sofortige Umkehr erwarten lassen, durch die kurze Notiz in den Text eingespielt. Die Ellipse appelliert an die Rezipienten, dem Weheruf vorausgehende Taten in ihre Erzählwelt zu integrieren. Somit gehören zur Konstruktion der Erzählwelt von Q von Gott ausgelöste eschatologische Heilswunder, als deren Täter Jesus und seine Boten in Frage kommen. Sie haben zugespitzt formuliert eine „Offenbarungsqualität“, weil in ihnen „gegenwärtige Ereignisse der von Jesus angesagten Gottesherrschaft“ präsent werden.41 In der Offenheit von Q 10,13 hinsichtlich der möglichen Wundertäter werden Jesus und seine Jünger in der Ablehnungserfahrung zusammengenommen. Der Weheruf enthält somit eine ausdrückliche Auslassung und animiert die Rezipienten zu geleiteter Neukonstruktion der Erzählwelt, was zwar kein direkter Rückgriff auf Q 7,22 ist, aber mit dem dortigen Katalog den allgemeinen Hinweis auf von Gott her gewirkte Realisierung eschatologischen Heils gemein hat. Wunderberichte werden in die Erzählwelt integriert, ohne dass deutlich wird, ob auf konkrete Überlieferungen von Wundern Jesu oder seiner Jünger in Chorazin und Betsaida angespielt wird. Die Wunder werden nicht entchristologisiert, sondern anonymisiert, insofern kein bestimmter Handlungsträger genannt wird. Diese Rezeptionsoffenheit enthält das Potential, die Situation der Rezipienten durch ihre Konstruktion der Textwelt zu deuten. (4) Die Taten der von Jesus ausgesandten Boten stehen in Q 10,9a im Blickpunkt. In der Stadt, in der die Boten positiv aufgenommen werden, soll sich die Nähe des Gottesreiches in Worten und Taten ereignen: Und heilt die Kranken in ihr (καὶ θεραπεύετε τοὺς ἐν αὐτῇ ἀσθεν〚οῦντας〛) und sagt 〚ihnen〛: Nahe ist euch die Königsherrschaft Gottes.

Q stellt die Verkündigung der Nähe des Reiches Gottes neben die Heilungen. Indem die Kranken gesund werden, ereignet sich nach Q das Gottesreich bei den Geheilten (vgl. auch Q 7,22). Die metasprachliche Wendung καὶ λέγετε αὐτοῖς leitet keine daran anschließende Verkündigung ein, sondern ist ein Interpretationsvorgang, der das Wundergeschehen erläutert. Im diakonischen Wirken der Krankenheilung werden die Nachfolger Jesu an der räumlichen Ausbreitung des Reiches beteiligt.42

41

Z.B. HÜNEBURG, Jesus als Wundertäter (s. Anm. 3), S. 172. Vgl. P. HOFFMANN, Studien zur Theologie der Logienquelle (NTA.NF 8), Münster: Aschendorff 1972, S. 299; KOLLMANN, Jesus und die Christen (s. Anm. 23), S. 317. 42

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Die Aufforderung zu den Therapien wird in Q nicht narrativ realisiert.43 Durch den autoritativen Sprecher von Q gefordert, ist diese Realisierung aber Teil der narrativen Konstruktion der ‚story‘ durch die Rezipienten, die ihre Erfahrungswelt mit der Textwelt verbinden können. Den Boten Jesu werden Therapien zugetraut,44 die verbunden mit der Verkündigung der Nähe des Gottesreichs dessen Frieden bei den Adressaten real werden lassen (vgl. Q 10,6). Auch wenn die Ausführung der Aufforderung zu Heilungen in Q nicht berichtet wird, werden sie durch die Botenrede dennoch zu einem Teil der Erzählwelt von Q und unterstreichen die Bedeutung von Machttaten und ihrer Ausführung für seine Sinnbildung. (5) Zwei interessante Ellipsen enthält der Exorzismus in Q 11,14-20.45 Die Darstellung des Exorzismus selbst ist eine explizite Ellipse: Und er trieb einen Dämon aus, «der einen Menschen» stumm «machte». Und als der Dämon ausgetrieben war, begann der Stumme zu sprechen. Und die Volksmenge staunte.

Die Differenzen zwischen Mt 12,22 und Lk 11,14 erschweren die Rekonstruktion des Q-Textes erheblich;46 beide Versionen lassen aber deutlich die explizite Ellipse erkennen.47 Der Exorzismus verzichtet auf 43

Die Offenheit der Machttaten von Q 10,13 könnte eine partielle Realisierung von Q 10,9 darstellen, ist aber keineswegs die vollständige erzählerische Umsetzung der Aufforderung und Verheißung Jesu. 44 Die Aufforderung θεραπεύετε zielt auf machtvolles Handeln, nicht aber auf die metaphorische Interpretation, „to treat the plight of person such as these“; zu L. E. V AAGE, Galilean Upstarts: Jesus’ First Followers According to Q, Valley Forge, Pa.: Trinity Press International 1994, S. 33-36; S.a. DERS., Q and Cynicism: On Comparison and Social Identity, in: R. A. Piper (Hg.), The Gospel Behind the Gospels: Current Studies on Q (NT.S 75), Leiden: E. J. Brill 1995, S. 199-229, S. 213-215 (Zitat: S. 214). 45 Zur Analyse von Q 11,14-20 s.a. M. LABAHN, Jesu Exorzismen (Q 11,19-20) und die Erkenntnis der ägyptischen Magier (Ex 8,15): Q 11,20 als bewahrtes Beispiel für Schrift-Rezeption Jesu nach der Logienquelle, in: Lindemann (Hg.), The Sayings Source Q (s. Anm. 13), S. 617-633; DERS., The ‚Dark Side of Power‘ – Beelzebul: Manipulated or Manipulator? Reflections on the History of a Conflict in the Traces Left in the Memory of Its Narrators, in: T. Holmén/S. E. Porter (Hgg.), Handbook of the Study of the Historical Jesus, 4 Bde., Leiden: E. J. Brill 2011, S. 4:2911-2945. 46 Vgl. zur gestaltenden Rezeption in MtEv und LkEv z.B. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 477f., der wie ROBINSON/H OFFMANN/ K LOPPENBORG (Hgg.), The Critical Edition of Q (s. Anm. 26) rekonstruiert. 47 Die Beschreibung als Ellipse erscheint mir trotz vorhandener Formelemente wie des Chorschlusses inzwischen treffender, als von einer vollständigen, aber verkürzten Erzählung zu sprechen; vgl z.B. auch A. K IRK, Going Public with the Hidden Transcript in Q 11: Beelzebul Accusation and the Woes, in: R. A. Horsley (Hg.), Oral Performance, Popular Tradition, and Hidden Transcript in Q (Semeia Studies 60), Atlanta, Ga.: Society of Biblical Literature 2006, S. 181-191, S. 187: „apocopated miracle story“.

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den Bericht, wie der Exorzismus ausgeführt wird, insbesondere die Präsenz und das Verlassen der stummen Person durch den Dämon bleiben unausgeführt und bilden eine Auslassung, für deren Auffüllung antike und neutestamentliche Exorzismen hinreichend Stoff bieten.48 Die Ellipse besteht aus der Feststellung eines durchgeführten Exorzismus, ergänzt um die Angabe der Wirkung der Bessesenheit (κωφός). Die Rezipienten sind eingeladen, das Ausgelassene durch nicht erzählte, aber bekannte Exorzismen Jesu als Teil der Erzählwelt zu konstruieren, wobei sie vom übersprungenen Geschehen zur Diskussion über das Geschehen weitergeleitet werden. Es geht in Q 11,14ff. nicht um die Ausführung, sondern um das Verstehen des Exorzismus. Die „Lücke“ signalisiert somit keineswegs ein Desinteresse am Exorzismus oder an der Macht des Exorzisten. Die Beantwortung der Vorwürfe gegen Jesus zeigt vielmehr, dass das nicht-berichtete Geschehen der Dämonenaustreibung inhaltlich erhebliche Bedeutung hat, insofern es den sich aktuell vollziehenden Untergang des satanischen Reiches darstellt (vgl. Q 11,17b-18 und bes. Q 11,21f.49). Das Herauswerfen repräsentiert den räumlichen Machtverlust, der in der anschließenden Diskussion ausgeführt und im Blick auf das ethische Verhalten der Rezipienten (Q 11,2426) vertieft wird.50

48 Ein schönes Beispiel aus dem Bereich der griechisch-römischen Enzyklopädie, die die „Ellipse“ neben der Jesusüberlieferung zu füllen hilft, bietet z.B. Lukian Philops 16: „Du machst dich lächerlich, sagte Ion, wenn du allem misstraust. Ich aber möchte dich gerne fragen, was du über all die sagst, welche die von Dämonen Besessenen von ihren Ängsten befreien, wobei sie derart offenkundig die Gespenster durch Zaubersprüche austreiben. Und das muss ich (eigentlich) nicht sagen: Alle kennen den Syrer aus Palästina, der auf diesem Gebiet ein Experte ist. Wie vieler Menschen hat er sich angenommen, die vor dem Mond niederfielen, die Augen verdrehten und den Mund mit Schaum füllten! Dennoch hat er sie wieder auf die Beine gestellt und sie weggeschickt, wieder klar im Kopf, nachdem er sie für ein großes Honorar von ihren Schrecknissen befreit hatte. Sobald er nämlich an die Liegenden herantritt, fragt er, woher (die Dämonen) in den Körper eingefahren sind. Der Kranke selbst schweigt, der Dämon aber antwortet – in Griechisch oder in einer fremden Sprache, je nachdem woher er ist – , wie und woher er in den Menschen eingefahren ist. Der (Syrer) aber treibt den Dämon aus, indem er ihm Eide aufbürdet und, falls er nicht gehorcht, ihn bedroht. Ich für meinen Teil habe sogar schon einen ausfahren sehen mit schwarzem und rußigem Teint“ (Übersetzung: M. E BNER/H. GZELLA, in: Lukian, Die Lügenfreunde oder der Ungläubige [Texte zur Forschung: SAPERE 3], Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft 2001, S. 81, 83). 49 Zur Problematik der Q zuzurechnenden lukanischen Variante des Spruches vgl. z.B. LABAHN, Jesu Exorzismen (s. Anm. 45), S. 623 mit Anm. 29 (Lit.). 50 S.a. M. LABAHN, Füllt den Raum aus – es kommt sonst noch schlimmer! (Beelzebulgleichnis): Q 11,24-26 (Mt 12,43-45/Lk 11,24-26), in: R. Zimmermann u.a. (Hgg.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu, Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2007, S. 126-132.

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Ein weiteres „gap“ findet sich in Q 11,19. Wenn der gegnerische Vorwurf einer Allianz Jesu mit den dämonischen Mächten bzw. ihrem Herrscher zuträfe, fragt der erzählte Jesus, wie sei dies in das Sinnkonzept seiner Gegner zu integrieren: Und wenn ich mit Beelzebul die Dämonen austreibe, mit wem treiben eure Söhne «sie» aus (οἱ υἱοὶ ὑµῶν ἐν τίνι ἐκβάλλουσιν)?

Die Frage impliziert sich wiederholende, aber in Q nicht ausgeführte Handlungen. Die υἱοί der Gegner teilen als Volks- und Glaubensgenossen das Sinnkonzept der Gegner Jesu. Auch bei ihnen entdeckt er Exorzismen und fragt nach deren Wirkursache. Die Sprechhandlung enthält eine explizite Auslassung, da an keiner Stelle in Q solche Handlungen ausgeführt werden. Die Rezipienten müssen also solche Handlungen in ihre Konstruktion der „story“ integrieren. Den jüdischen Exorzismen kommt in der Argumentation des Sprechers kein konkurrierendes Eigengewicht zu. Rhetorisch führt dieses Handeln die gegnerische Argumentation ad absurdum, da sie offensichtlich an deren Wirken keinen Anstoß nimmt. Im Rahmen der Argumentation Jesu sind sie jedoch unbestrittener Teil der Zerstörung des satanischen Herrschaftsraums. Sie spielen keine eigene Rolle, sondern sind Teil des Konzepts des nahen Gottesreiches, das das satanische Reich zurückdrängt. Jesus selbst setzt sich in seiner Fortsetzung von diesem Geschehen durch sein „Ich“ ab. Er beansprucht für sich, Ausführender Gottes zu sein, insofern er mit dem Finger Gottes die Dämonen austreibt (V. 20): Wenn ich aber mit dem Finger Gottes die Dämonen austreibe (εἰ δὲ ἐν δακτύλῳ θεοῦ ἐγὼ ἐκβάλλω τὰ δαιµόνια), so ist die Königsherrschaft Gottes schon bei euch da.

Dies signalisiert aber ἔφθασεν ἐφ᾽ ὑµᾶς ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ. Aus dem Gesamtgefälle der Argumentation Jesu ergibt sich, dass die nicht-berichteten jüdischen Exorzismen ebenfalls die Nähe des Gottesreiches abbilden. Auch wenn Jesus eine besondere Nähe zu Gott reklamiert, ist auch deren Handeln ein Wirken Gottes gegen die satanische Herrschaft. Der ausgelassene Bericht von den jüdischen Exorzismen will durch die Rezipienten als Teil der Erzählwelt von Q konstruiert werden, aber eben in Perspektive der Deutung durch den Hauptprotagonisten dieser Sinnbildung. Die beiden Ellipsen in Q 11,14-20 zeigen erneut, wie die Rezipienten durch Auslassungen zu weitergehendem Verständnis des Übersprungenen geführt werden; indem sie so an der Konstruktion der Erzählwelt beteiligt werden, erkennen sie, dass mit den Exorzismen, die Jesu Zeitgenossen, aber vor allem Jesus selbst als Werkzeug Gottes ausführen (Q 11,20), das Ende des widergöttlichen Reiches vollzogen wird, auch wenn, wie Q 11,24-26 zeigt, jede/jeder Einzelne seinen Anteil am Kampf zu leisten

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hat.51 Jesus wird durch den Konflikt um seinen Exorzismus zum Stärkeren – nicht allein in Relation zur Erwartung des Täufers (Q 3,16b), sondern zum Diabolos, was narrativ bereits im Bestehen der Versuchungen Q 4,113 vollzogen wurde. (6) Zusammenfassend kann festgehalten werden, dass die Wunderüberlieferung Jesu durch die narrative Technik der „gaps“ in die Konstruktion der Erzählwelt von Q durch seine Rezipienten von Textsignalen aufgenommen wird. Dabei wird neben der genannten Fernheilung und dem Exorzismus nicht auf einzelne Überlieferungen angespielt. Die Machttaten Jesu werden als rhetorische Mittel zur Begründung von Urteilen der Erzählwelt eingesetzt. Die Auslassungen bilden somit kein generelles Desinteresse an der Wunderüberlieferung ab, zeigen vielmehr Spuren eigenständiger Akzentuierung. Auffällig ist, dass selten direkt von Wundern Jesu gesprochen wird. Vielmehr wird einerseits die Urheberschaft der Machttaten in Gott unterstrichen. Andererseits sind die Ellipsen, die auf Wunder verweisen, oftmals auch offen für andere Täter als Jesus, vor allem für die Jünger bzw. spätere christliche Rezipienten. So wird in Q 10,9 vom Heilungshandeln der zur Ernte ausgesandten Jünger gesprochen und in Q 11,19 werden jüdische Exorzisten anerkannt, die scheinbar ebenfalls an der Entmachtung der satanischen Herrschaft beteiligt sind.52 In Q 7,22 ist zunächst generell von wunderhaftem Geschehen die Rede und Q 10,13 spricht von den αἱ δυνάµεις αἱ γενόµεναι ἐν ὑµῖν (Chorazin und Betsaida). In beiden Sprüchen wird der mögliche direkte Bezug auf den Sprecher Jesus vermieden. Mit dieser Anonymisierung der Wunderüberlieferung geht einher, dass auch Jesus nicht direkt mit den Wundern verbunden wird. Der Primärfokus liegt auf dem Anbruch der Gottesherrschaft durch das Geschehen eschatologischen Heils, als dessen Kehrseite die Zerstörung der satanisch-dämonischen Mächte steht. Daran sind auch die jüdischen Exorzisten beteiligt, aber interessanter dürfte die Rezeptionsoffenheit für die Leser und Leserinnen sein; Q 10,9 nimmt sie ausdrücklich in das eschatologische Heilshandeln mit hinein, so dass die Anonymisierung der Wunderüberlieferung Raum für die Identitätsstiftung der Rezipienten als Teil des endzeitlichen Gotteshandelns lässt. 51 Vgl. M. LABAHN, Das Reich Gottes und seine performativen Abbildungen. Gleichnisse, Parabeln und Bilder als Handlungsmodelle im Dokument Q, in: R. Zimmermann/G. Kern (Hgg.), Hermeneutik der Gleichnisse Jesu: Methodische Neuansätze zum Verstehen urchristlicher Parabeltexte (WUNT 231), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2008, S. 259-282, S. 275. 52 S.a. LABAHN, Jesu Exorzismen (s. Anm. 45), S. 619-623; E. E. POPKES, Der umstrittene Exorzist (Jesu Macht über böse Geister) Q 11,14f.17-22.24-26, in: Zimmermann u.a. (Hgg.), Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen I (s. Anm. 23), S. 183-189, S. 185.

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Dennoch würde es zu weit gehen, die Anonymisierung als Entchristologisierung der jesuanischen Wunderüberlieferung zu verstehen. In Q 11,19 steht das „Ich“ Jesu als Werkzeug Gottes dem Wirken der Zeitgenossen voran, und die Antwort auf die Täuferfrage Q 7,22 wird im Kontext des Gesamtdokuments christologisch kodiert: Q 7,1ff. und 7,23. So sind die Machttaten zunächst auf das Wirken Jesu zu beziehen und der Erzähler erwartet, dass die „Lücken“ der nicht erzählten Geschehnisse durch seine Leser/Leserinnen ergänzt werden, allerdings so, dass sie sich selbst in den Raum dieses Wirkens Jesu integrieren können. Das Schweigen des Q-Dokuments durch seine Auslassungen ist somit sehr beredt. Die Predigt und Unterweisung Jesu in Q sind transparent auf sein Wirken, insbesondere auf die breite Spur seiner Wunderüberlieferung; sie verliert nicht an Bedeutung, sondern wird gedeutet und der eigenen Sinnbildung dienstbar gemacht. In der Konstruktion der Rezipienten wird die Wunderüberlieferung Teil der Textwelt, wenngleich nicht im Einzelnen nachweisbar sind, welche Kenntnisse der Leser und Leserinnen Gegenstand ihrer Konstruktion sind. Dass auf textexternes Wissen und Erfahrungen anspielt wird, kann aber nicht bestritten werden.53 3.2 Jesu Wirken in und an Israel (Q 7,9; 13,34) (1) Nach der Darstellung von Q ist Jesus vor allem ein Redender. Als wesentliche Gesprächspartner lassen sich seine Jünger/Nachfolger erkennen (Q 6,20b; 7,9); Volk (Q 7,24), Gruppen im Volk (die Pharisäer und Gesetzeslehrer: Q 11,39ff.) und Individuen (Q 9,57ff.) werden zudem als Adressaten genannt. Gerade in den Kontroversen erschließt sich aber ein wesentliches „gap“ des Q-Dokuments. Verwiesen wird auf ein Wirken Jesu an „Israel“ und in Jerusalem, das Jesus in Konflikt mit verschiedenen Gruppen des jüdischen Volkes führt. Diese Konflikte spiegeln sich vor allem in den Sprechhandlungen, die die Konsequenzen aus diesen Auseinandersetzungen ziehen. (2) Q 7,1-〚10〛54 berichtet von einer Fernheilung, die als „setting“ eines Dialogs zwischen Jesus und einem heidnischen, im Dienst der römischen 53 Es darf an die Beobachtung von M. FRENSCHKOWSKI, Welche biographischen Kenntnisse von Jesus setzt die Logienquelle voraus? Beobachtungen zur Gattung von Q im Kontext antiker Spruchsammlungen, in: J. Ma. Asgeirsson/K. de Troyer/M. W. Meyer (Hgg.), From Quest to Q: FS James M. Robinson (BEThL 146), Leuven: Leuven University Press/Peeters 2000, S. 3-42, S. 42, erinnert werden, dass fehlende biographische und theologische Angaben in Q wenig über die Kenntnisse der hinter dem Dokument stehenden Personen aussagen. 54 Sollte tatsächlich die Mitteilung des Erfolges am Ende der Episode fehlen und die verschiedenen Formen des Schlusses in Mt 8,13 und Lk 7,10 auf die jeweiligen Erzähler zurückgehen (z.B. HÜNEBURG, Heilung per Befehl [s. Anm. 24], S. 173-177), so wäre dies ein weiteres Beispiel für ein „gap“ in Q; ähnlich D ORMEYER, Q 7,1.3.6b-9.?10? (s.

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Besatzungsmacht stehenden Offizier entworfen wird. Gegen Ende der Heilung des Sohnes des Hauptmanns von Kafarnaum lobt Jesus den Glauben des Hauptmanns, indem er feststellt, dass er solch einen hervorragenden Glauben in Israel nicht gefunden habe (Q 7,9): Als aber Jesus das hörte, staunte er und sagte denen, die ihm folgten: Ich sage euch, nicht einmal in Israel habe ich einen so großen Glauben gefunden (οὐδὲ ἐν τῷ Ἰσραὴλ τοσαύτην πίστιν εὗρον).

Die Bewertung des Hauptmanns basiert auf einer expliziten Ellipse. Die Wendung οὐδὲ ἐν τῷ Ἰσραὴλ τοσαύτην πίστιν εὗρον (Q 7,9) setzt eine längere „Suche“ mit einer umfangreichen Erzähldauer voraus, so dass der Text quasi in eine „Pause“ eintritt. Die „Lücke“ könnte bestenfalls durch die Predigt in Q 6,20b-49 gefüllt werden, aber die erste Rede Jesu wendet sich ausdrücklich an seine Jünger. Die Begriffe „Finden“, „Israel“ und „Glaube“ werden erstmals hier in Q 7,9 verwendet. Jesu Wort setzt ein längeres verkündendes Wirken in Israel voraus, wobei die Wendung οὐδὲ εὗρον einen (bisherigen) Endpunkt durch das Negativergebnis der Suche, keinen τοσαύτης πίστις gefunden zu haben, markiert. Q 7,9 blickt auf das Wirken Jesu als geschichtliche Erinnerung zurück und lädt die Rezipienten dazu ein, das „gap“ zu schließen. Jesu Leben, soweit es der überlieferten frühchristlichen Erinnerung zu entnehmen ist, ist die Verkündigung des nahe gekommenen Gottesreiches im antiken Palästina. Beispiele des Wirkens Jesu werden im Folgenden im Q-Text gegeben, zeigen aber wiederum vor allem eine kritische Auseinandersetzung mit Gruppen in Israel und die Ablehnung der Botschaft von Jesus durch „diese Generation“ (z.B. Q 11,16.29-30; 11,49-51). Die Diskussion mit dem Hauptmann spricht Jesus Vollmacht zu; solcher Jesu Vollmacht anerkennender Glaube wäre auch in Israel zu erwarten gewesen, ist aber nicht in der Weise zu finden, wie der Sprecher ihn bei dem Heiden ausmacht. Das Wirken Jesu an Israel gerät somit nach Q zu einem vergeblichen Geschehen, das im Kontext der Ablehnung seiner Botschaft in Q zu deuten ist. Die Auslassung markiert wiederum kein Desinteresse Anm. 25), S. 190: „Der fehlende Hauptteil und Schluss müssen vielmehr vom Leser ergänzt werden. Da der Centurio ausdrücklich um das Heilungswort und den Erfolg gebeten und Jesus den starken Glauben gelobt hat, muss die Heilung als Belohnung des Glaubens erschlossen werden“. Der erfolgreiche Ausgang der Episode wäre zugunsten der Bewertung des Verhältnisses der pistis des Centurios zu Israel in V. 9 übersprungen. Dass das Auslassen des Zielpunktes auf das Geschehen hindrängt, unterstreicht die Bewertung des Berichteten, allerdings halte ich weiterhin an der Vermutung fest, dass das Selbstverständliche auch ausdrücklich notiert wurde, da im Kontext von 7,22 ein Interesse am heilsamen Geschehen im Wirken Jesu erkennbar ist. Die Episode bedient im Kontext von Q also ein doppeltes Interesse.

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an Jesu Verkündigungswirken in Israel, sondern gibt der Konstruktion der Rezipienten Raum – allerdings unter einem negativen Vorzeichen, das das eigene Erleben der Adressaten von Q zu bewältigen und als sinnvoll zu bestimmen sucht.55 Indem das Wirken Jesu nicht narrativ durch einzelne Episoden kodiert wird, ist die Formulierung geeignet, ihr eigenes Verkündigungsschicksal (vgl. Q 6,23) mit dem Jesu zu verknüpfen. Die Jesusnachfolger von Q richten die Botschaft Jesu nach dem Modell von Q 10 aus und scheitern, wie es in der Einleitung zu diesem Modelltext (Q 10,3: wie Schafe unter Wölfen) und in Anweisungen für die Ablehnung zum Ausdruck kommt (Q 10,6.10f.) Die Verwendung von Auslassungen erweitert erneut nicht nur die Textwelt durch den Hinweis auf das Wirken Jesu an seinem Volk, sondern lädt die Rezipienten ein, die Konstruktion dieser Textwelt zugleich als Deutungssignal für ihr eigenes Erleben zu verstehen. (3) Eine sachliche Parallele zur Auslassung des Wirkens Jesu an seinem Volk stellt Q 13,34 dar; ein Bezug, der bei Fleddermann ein Musterbeispiel der „gaps“ und Ellipsen ist. Jerusalem, Jerusalem, du tötest die Propheten und steinigst die zu dir Gesandten! Wie oft wollte ich deine Kinder sammeln (ποσάκις ἠθέλησα ἐπισυνάξαι τὰ τέκνα σου), wie eine Henne ihre Küken unter die Flügel sammelt, und ihr habt nicht gewollt.

Wenn Jesus als Sprecher dieses Wortes von einem oftmaligen Versuch (ποσάκις) berichtet, die Kinder Jerusalems zu versammeln, dann fehlen entsprechend zahlreiche Episoden innerhalb von Q. Es liegt somit eine explizite Ellipse vor, die von im Text nicht genannten, dem Ausspruch vorausgehenden Geschehnissen spricht. Fleddermann erschließt daraus, dass der Ausspruch auf die Konstruktion einer Mehrzahl von Jerusalemaufenthalten Jesu zielt,56 die die Rezipienten aus dieser Notiz entnehmen und in die Textwelt einfügen können. Es werden verschiedene und in jedem Fall länger andauernde Unternehmungen zusammengefasst, mit denen der Sprecher die misslungene Sammlung der Einwohner Jerusalems angestrebt hat. Israel zu sammeln ist Aufgabe Gottes (vgl. z.B. Jes 43,5; 49,22; 54,7; 56,8; Jer 23,3; 29,14; 31,10; 32,37; Ez 11,17; 20,34.41). Inhaltlich scheint 55

Vgl. LABAHN, Sinn im Sinnlosen (s. Anm. 3), passim. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 705: „The narrative pushes events like accounts of his travels into the gaps between the Speeches. Still from the speeches the reader can construct a rather full picture of the ministry. From this saying the reader learns that Jesus repeatedly visited Jerusalem, and the city repeatedly rejected him.“ Der Hinweis, dass nach dieser Interpretation Q die johanneische Darstellung vom mehrfachen Jerusalemwirken Jesu unterstützt, ist mehr als eine Fußnote wert. 56

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der Sprecher Jesus damit in die Rolle Gottes zu schlüpfen; er bezieht sich sowohl auf das in den Schriften geschilderte Gotteshandeln als auch auf sein eigenes Wirken zurück.57 Dieses Wirken in Jerusalem wird in Q nicht berichtet, weil Gottes Mühen um Jerusalem aus den Schriften Israels bekannt ist; zugleich ist Jesu Verkündigung durch die Ellipse von den Rezipienten zu ergänzen. Die negative Reaktion auf die Liebe Gottes (vgl. das Bild von der Henne und den Küken) und die Ablehnung des göttlichen Sammlungswillens führen zur Gerichtsandrohung (Q 11,47.49-51), in die sich auch die Rezipienten mit der ihnen zu Teil werdenden Ablehnung integrieren können (vgl. Q 22,28.30). In der Ablehnung dürfen sich die Rezipienten ihrerseits in das erfolglose Gotteswirken eingliedern, das durch die Gerichtsdrohung sanktioniert wird (vgl. die Linien zu Q 22,28.30). Zugleich kann man fragen, ob das Zitat von Ps 118,26 (Q 13,35) Hoffnung auf Umkehr eröffnet58 oder doch lediglich die Perspektive des zukünftigen unwiderstehlichen und universellen Kommens des Menschensohnes einnimmt. Wieder regt das elliptische Erzählen in einer Sprechhandlung die Rezipienten an, die Textwelt um Erzählepisoden weiter zu konstruieren und dabei das Verstehen des Textes zu vertiefen. (4) Das Wirken Jesu an Israel wird in Q mehrfach erinnert, aber durch die narrative Technik der Ellipsen nicht ausgeführt. Das Wirken Jesu an Israel scheint angesichts von Misserfolg und aktiver sowie ausgrenzender Erfolglosigkeit für die Verfasser von Q eine Krise erreicht zu haben. Die Gemeinde hinter Q mag noch nicht in die Phase einer programmatischen Heidenmission eingetreten sein,59 aber das Dokument bereitet die Grenzüberschreitung inhaltlich vor. Das ausschließliche Wirken in und an Israel ist fraglich geworden. Die Lücken erinnern an dies Wirken, indem sie an das Handeln Jesu an Israel und in Jerusalem erinnern; es ist aber ein abgelehntes und erfolgloses Unterfangen. Die „gaps“ unterstreichen diese 57

Vgl. LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (s. Anm. 1), S. 227. Vgl. Z.B. F. BOVON, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (EKK III), 4 Bde., NeukirchenVluyn: Neukirchener Verlag/Zürich: Benziger Verlag 1989–2009, S. 2:459f.; s.a. W. W IEFEL, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (ThHK 3), Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt 1988, S. 265f.: Nach dem Modell der zeitweiligen Verborgenheit der Weisheit erschließt Wiefel, dass es dazu kommt, dass „die Angeredeten … schließlich Jesus als Messias huldigen werden“. Vgl. die kritischen Bemerkungen zu dieser Interpretation bei H OFFMANN, Studien zur Theologie der Logienquelle (s. Anm. 42), S. 177f. (es ist „an die Begrüßung des zum Gericht kommenden Menschensohn gedacht, der Jerusalem verurteilen wird“) und M. WOLTER, Das Lukasevangelium (HNT 5), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2008, S. 499. 59 Zur Diskussion vgl. z.B. HEIL, Lukas und Q (s. Anm. 6), S. 332-334 (mit Literatur). Heil selbst meint, dass Q „keine positive Haltung gegenüber den Heiden eingenommen hat“. 58

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Interpretation, indem sie das Wirken Jesu zu „Pausen“ verkürzen, die das Geschehen distanziert in den Erzählablauf von Q eintragen. Die „gaps“ dienen somit auch der Entfaltung der Sinnbildung durch Q, die auf Grenzüberschreitungen zielt. 3.3 Der Tod des Gekommenen – ein Ausblick (Q 11,49-51; 13,35; 14,27) (1) Jesu Tod wird nicht durch das Dokument Q ignoriert oder gar eliminiert, sondern in eigenständiger Weise in impliziten Ellipsen aufgenommen; so signalisiert das traditionelle Motiv von der Prophetentötung (Q 11,49-51)60 oder vom Kreuztragen (Q 14,27)61 in der Form einer erzählerischen Lücke ein Geschehen, das durch den informierten Leser/die informierte Leserin in das Dokument eingetragen werden kann.62 (2) Von einer expliziten Ellipse lässt sich in Q 13,35b sprechen. Hier zieht Jesus die Konsequenz aus der Ablehnung seiner Sendung an Jerusalem: Ich sage euch, ihr werdet mich nicht mehr sehen (οὐ µὴ ἴδητέ µε), 63 bis 〚«der Tag» kommen wird, da〛 ihr sagt: Gesegnet, der im Namen des Herrn Kommende!

Jesus kündigt in Folge des Gerichtswortes über Jerusalem an, dass er von den Angeredeten nicht mehr gesehen wird. Dieses Nicht-Mehr-Sehen ist Voraussetzung für sein Wiederkommen als Menschensohn (vgl. die Rezep60

Wenngleich der Tod Jesu in 11,51 nicht genannt wird, so dürfte sich in diesem Abschnitt dennoch die kollektive Erinnerung an die Verfolgung der Gemeinde und ihrer Leitfigur mit intertextueller Sinnbildung finden; vgl. LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (s. Anm. 1), S. 423. Vgl. bes. A. KIRK, The Memory of Violence and the Death of Jesus in Q, in: Ders./T. Thatcher (Hgg.), Memory, Tradition, and Text: Uses of the Past in Early Christianity (Semeia Studies 52), Atlanta, Ga.: Society of Biblical Literature 2005, S. 191-206, S. 196: „… these verses refract their ,living‘ subject through the prism of the convictions Q displays with respect to his life and death. That Jesus’ own death is encompassed by the oracle is corroborated by the introduction of Abel and Zechariah, who likewise suffered violent deaths, for this coheres with the practice in the preceding sections of Q of associating Jesus with exemplary figures of Israelite epic.“ 61 Als direkten Hinweis auf Jesu Kreuzestod in Q werten Q 14,27 auch z.B. U. S CHNELLE, Theologie des Neuen Testaments (UTB 2917), Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 2008, S. 359; H EIL, Evangelium als Gattung (s. Anm. 3), S. 72; H URTADO, Lord Jesus Christ (s. Anm. 11), S. 240ff.; K.-S. KRIEGER, Was sagte Jesus wirklich? Die Botschaft der Spruchquelle Q (Münsterschwarzacher Kleinschriften 141), 2. Aufl., Münsterschwarzach: Vier-Türme-Verlag 2004, S. 55. 62 Zu dem Motiv eines Gehorsams bis in den Tod hinter der zweiten Versuchung vgl. M. LABAHN, Der Gottessohn, die Versuchung und das Kreuz: Überlegungen zum Jesusporträt der Versuchungsgeschichte in Q 4,1-13, EThL 80 (2004), S. 402-422. 63 Zum textkritischen und literarkritischen Problem vgl. z.B. WOLTER, Das Lukasevangelium (s. Anm. 58), S. 499, bzw. HEIL, Lukas und Q (s. Anm. 6), S. 68 (Wahl des ungewöhnlicheren Sprachgebrauchs als Rekonstruktionskriterium für Q).

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tion von Ps 118,26: ἐρχόµενος ἐν ὀνόµατι κυρίου),64 das jenseits der Erzählwelt noch aussteht, aber im Modus des Ausblicks in Q bereits berichtet wird. Die Akklamation aus Ps 118,26 ist Ausdruck der uneingeschränkten Erkennbarkeit des Wiederkommens, das der Zeit des NichtSehens folgt. Zwischen der Anwesenheit des Gekommenen und seiner Wiederkunft klafft eine „Lücke“, die die Aussage Jesu in Q 13,35b füllt: es gibt eine Zeit des Nicht-Sehens. Diese Zeit, die die Zeit der Rezipienten ist, wird in Q nicht erzählt. Sie setzt sachlich einen Einschnitt voraus, der zwischen Sehen und NichtSehen steht. Für die Konstruktion des nicht erzählten Einschnitts stehen verschiedene Modelle bereit. Ein wichtiges Modell ist das der Entrückung.65 Eine besonders qualifizierte, zumeist lebende Person wird von der Erde an einen anderen Ort entrückt. Gegen das Modell der Entrückung sprechen aber zwei Beobachtungen. Der Kreuzestod Jesu dürfte für die Rezipienten von Q bekannt sein und ist im Kreuzeswort gespiegelt (Q 14,27). Q 13,34a spricht zudem von der Propheten- und Gesandtentötung in Jerusalem; wenngleich der Kreuzestod Jesu in Jerusalem nicht genannt wird, ist damit ein Rezeptionsimpuls gesetzt, der die Tötung Jesu mit einschließt.66 64

Ps 117,26a LXX: εὐλογηµένος ὁ ἐρχόµενος ἐν ὀνόµατι κυρίου; zur Identität zwischen Prätext und Zitat vgl. z.B. U. RÜSEN-W EINHOLD, Der Septuagintapsalter im Neuen Testament: Eine textgeschichtliche Untersuchung, Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag 2004, S. 269. 65 Z.B. U. B. MÜLLER, Die Gerichtsankündigung Q 13,34f. als authentisches Wort Jesu, in: Busse/Reichardt/Theobald (Hgg.), Erinnerung an Jesus (s. Anm. 35), S. 133141, S. 138-140; D. ZELLER, Entrückung zur Ankunft als Menschensohn (Lk 13,34f.; 11,29f.), in: À cause de l’Évangile: Études sur les Synoptiques et les Actes: FS P. Jacques Dupont, O.S.B. (LecDiv 123), Paris: Éditions du Cerf 1985, S. 513-530; für die Entrückungsvorstellung in Q s.a. z.B. J. S. KLOPPENBORG, Q, the Earliest Gospel: An Introduction to the Original Stories and Saying of Jesus, Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press 2008, S. 80-84, und bes. D. A. SMITH, The Post-Mortem Vindication of Jesus in the Sayings Gospel Q (LNTS 338), London: T & T Clark 2006, passim, der in der Entrückung Jesu ein zentrales Motiv der Christologie in Q sieht, in der das in einem deuteronomistischen Grundschema entfaltete Thema der abgelehnten Weisheit sinnstiftende Funktion hat: „Q forged a correlation between the community’s soteriological hope in Jesus’ words and deeds as the locus of the kingdom (Q 6.46-49; 11.20) and their eschatological hope in his return as the Coming One (Q 3.16-17; 13.34-35) who would, as the Son of man, execute judgment on the basis of faithful allegiance to Jesus (Q 12.810; 12.39-40; 12.42-46). All these christological streams converge in Q 13.34-35: the rejected and crucified Jesus is vindicated by assumption as a sign of divine favour, and Wisdom’s departure is reconfigured as the removal, and preservation for a future role, of Jesus the Coming One“, ibid., p. 119. 66 Anders D. ZELLER, Die Entstehung des Christentums, in: Ders. (Hg.), Christentum I: Von den Anfängen bis zur Konstantinischen Wende (RdW 28), Stuttgart: Kohlhammer 2002, S. 15-123, S. 66: Q 13,34f. „spricht nur von der Ablehnung, nicht vom Tod Jesu“.

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V. 35b nimmt diesen Impuls aus V. 34a auf und gibt den Rezipienten die Möglichkeit, die Erzähllücke zu füllen. Die Zeit der Rezipienten ist die Zeit der Erwartung des (Wieder-)Kommens des Gekommenen, die durch seinen Tod ausgelöst ist.67 Die besondere Perspektive, die durch diesen „gap“ ausgelöst ist, liegt in der aktiven Erwartung der Wiederkunft des Gekommenen, die die Aktivität der Rezipienten einschließt.68 (3) Ebenso deutlich ist, dass Passion und Tod dennoch nicht wie durch andere frühchristliche Theologen und Schriften soteriologisch ausgedeutet werden, sondern das Heil durch den Zuspruch des Gekommenen und die Rettung in der Erwartung der Wiederkunft des Menschensohns liegen. Interessant ist, dass die Breite der Jesuserinnerung somit in der Sinnbildung von Q präsent ist, aber im Rahmen des Dokuments zu einem eigenen – verglichen mit den Synoptikern – anderen plot verdichtet wird.

4. Zusammenfassung Das Dokument Q ist kein vollständiger Bericht über das Wirken Jesu und will dies auch nicht sein, vielmehr stellt die Schrift eine eigenständige Form in der frühchristlichen Literaturgeschichte dar. Der Fokus von Q liegt auf der Spannung zwischen Jesu Gekommen-Sein und seinem Wiederkommen. Formal besteht dieses Werk zwar mehrheitlich aus Redestoff, dennoch wird die Erinnerung an Jesus auch in Form der Erzählüberlieferung in erstaunlicher Breite durch eine Anzahl sogenannter Ellipsen und „gaps“ erschlossen. Neben den wenigen Erzählepisoden öffnen somit die Reden Jesu ein Fenster auf Jesu Gesamtwirken mit seinen Reden und Taten, auf die die „gaps“ und Ellipsen hinweisen und die Leser zur Rekonstruktion des Gesamtwirkens Jesu anleiten. Hierzu gehören, wie die in diesem Betrag vorgenommene Auswahl an „gaps“ zeigt, die Wunderüberlieferung, die Breite der Verkündigung Jesu an seine Zeitgenossen und auch die Erinnerung an Passion und Kreuz. Diese Lücken evozieren Dramatik und Handlung in einem ansonsten redelastigen Text, an deren Entwicklung der Modellleser durch seinen Lesevollzug beteiligt ist. Der implizite Leser ist ein verständiger Leser, der die im Text auftretenden „gaps“ inhaltlich füllen kann und soll. Er ist eine produktive Gestalt, die an der durch das Dokument aufgebauten Sinnkon67 S.a. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 706: „By marking the shift between the present coming and the future coming the Lament points toward Jesus’ passion. The Lament associates Jesus’ absence, ‘you will not see me,’ with the Opposition to him that comes from Jerusalem. Any Christian reading the passage could only think of the cross which the author of Q steers toward (Q 14,26-27)“. 68 Zur Sache vgl. LABAHN, Reich Gottes (s. Anm. 51), passim.

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struktion durch Leserlenkung wie den „gaps“ und Ellipsen mitwirkt. Es geht um die Konstruktion und das Verstehen, wer der Kommende aus der Ankündigung des Täufers in 3,16 ist und worin seine wirkliche Bedeutung für die Adressaten des Dokuments (vgl. bes. 7,22) besteht. Die Konstruktion ist durch die expliziten „gaps“ ausdrücklich eingefordert; sie erfolgt nicht beliebig, sondern innerhalb der Interpretationsgrenzen, die der Text selbst generiert – auch die Jesuserinnerung und das enzyklopädische Wissen der Leser/Leserinnen sind von den „gaps“ des Textes eingespielte Faktoren, die „Ellipsen“ ausfüllen. Die Jesuserinnerung, die nicht im Dokument Q erzählt wird, erhält durch gaps und Ellipsen geradezu den Status eines Metatextes, der durch diese narrative Strategie Teil der story wird. So sind die Wunderüberlieferung, die Exorzismen, die Mahlgemeinschaften, die Verkündigung Jesu mit ihren Kontroversen, aber auch das Leiden und Sterben Jesu präsent, ohne dass sie ausdrücklich und ausführlich berichtet werden. Das scheinbare Schweigen wird durch die signalisierten Lücken ausdrücklich beredt. Schlussfolgerungen zur Stellung von Q in der frühchristlichen Theologie- und Literaturgeschichte müssten zukünftig stärker die signalisierten „Lücken“ berücksichtigen, um den Ort von Q zu bestimmen. Die „gaps“ und Ellipsen im Dokument Q lassen den Text hinsichtlich des Wirkens Jesu wesentlich mitteilsamer erscheinen, als es bei einer bloßen Spruchsammlung zu erwarten wäre. Die „gaps“ und Ellipsen appellieren an die Rezipienten, die Textwelt durch Signale gesteuert zu konstruieren und dabei sich selbst neu zu verstehen. So gewinnen die Rezipienten Anteil an der Sinnkonstruktion des Dokuments Q; dieser Anteil ist in besonderer Weise ein narrativer, so dass man von Geschichte hinter und neben dem Dokument sprechen könnte, die durch verständige Leser und Leserinnen und die ihnen zugetraute Informiertheit gebildet wird. Sie öffnet die Geschichte Jesu für die Gegenwart der Leser/Leserinnen, die sich selbst zwischen dem Kommen und dem Wiederkommen Jesu wiederfinden sollen.

Q 7,1.3.6b-9.?10? Der Hauptmann von Kafarnaum: Narrative Strategie mit Chrie, Wundergeschichte und Gleichnis Detlev Dormeyer Die erste Wundergeschichte (Q 7,1.3.6b-9.?10?) enthält keine vollständige Wunderhandlung, sondern nur einen langen Dialog. Nach der Heilungsbitte des Centurios folgt ein Wechselgespräch mit einem Gleichnis über die Vollmacht Jesu. Die abschließende Antwort Jesu betont dann den „großen Glauben“ des Bittstellers. Warum vermischt Q hier die drei Kleingattungen Chrie, Wundergeschichte und Gleichnis miteinander? So gibt es drei Punkte: 1. Narrative Analyse von Q 7,1.3.6b-9.?10? 2. Chrie, Wunderthematik und Gleichnis als narrative Strategien in Q 3. Die Erzählung vom Centurio, das Gespräch mit dem Täufer und die Rede über den Täufer (Q 7,1.3.6b-9.?10?; 18f.22f.24-35) als Mitte von Teil I von Q (Q 3,2–11,52)

1. Narrative Analyse von Q 7,1.3.6b-9.?10? S 1 1 ⟦Und es geschah, als⟧ er…diese Worte vollendet hatte, ging er nach Kafarnaum hinein. S 2 3 Ein Centurio kam zu ihm und bittet ihn ⟦und sagt: Mein⟧ Knecht ⟦ krank. Und er sagt ihm: Soll ich⟧ kommen und ihn heilen? S 3 6b-c Und der Centurio antwortete und sagte: Herr, nicht bin ich würdig, dass du unter mein Dach trittst, 7aber sage es mit einem Wort, und mein Knecht ⟦soll⟧ geheilt ⟦werden⟧. 8 Denn auch ich bin ein Mensch unter Vollmacht, und ich habe unter mir Soldaten, und sage ich diesem: Geh! Und er geht, und einem andern: Komm! Und er kommt, und meinem Sklaven: Tue dies! Und er tut «es». 9 Als er das aber hörte, staunte Jesus und sagte denen, die ihm folgten: Ich sage euch, nicht einmal in Israel fand ich so großen Glauben. ?10?

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Ich lege den Text von Hoffmann/Heil zugrunde.1 Der Einsatz von V 1a ἐπλήρωσεν τοὺς λόγους τούτους (als er … diese Worte vollendet hatte) bietet eine klare Abgrenzung von der vorangegangenen Rede Jesu (Q 6,2049). Die vorangehende Ergänzung mit καὶ ἐγένετο ὅτε (und es geschah, als), die die Sicherheit 3. Grades nach Mt 7,28 bietet, spielt für die Abgrenzung keine Rolle und kann daher fehlen. Mit dem Aorist „Vollenden“ wird zum ersten Mal in Q eine Rede zusammengefasst. Es handelt sich um die erste große Rede, die zutreffend „Jesu programmatische Rede“ genannt wird.2 V. 1b zeigt mit einem Verb der Bewegung und der Ortsangabe Kafarnaum (Q 7,1; 10,15) einen Handlungswechsel an. „Hineingehen“ setzt den Aorist von V. 1a fort. Die zwei Verben bilden ein knapp erzähltes Ereignis, eine Sequenz (S), die eine Szene einleitet.3 Jesus schließt eine Rede ab, begibt sich an einen anderen Ort, und zwar Kafarnaum, und bleibt dort; so muss der Rezipient ergänzen. Die Einleitung der Mikro-Erzählung mit einem Ortsnamen ist für Q singulär. Kafarnaum wird später noch einmal in Verbindung mit Wundertaten genannt (Q 10,15), bei denen als weitere Ortsnamen Chorazin, Betsaida, Tyros und Sidon singulär aufgeführt werden. Die Tradition von Wundergeschichten hängt z. T. an Ortsnamen wie bei den markinischen Wundergeschichten an Kafarnaum, Gerasa, Tyros, Betsaida, Jericho und Betanien (Mk 1,21-34; 5,1-20; 7,24-30; 8,22-26; 10,46-52; 11,12-14). Die Ortsnamen verleihen den Wundern historiographisch-biographische Haftpunkte. Es folgen zwei weitere Ereignisse. V. 3 lässt einen neuen Handlungsträger auftreten und wiederholt die Stammform „Gehen/Kommen“ im Aorist. Das neue Subjekt wird nur durch seinen Beruf gekennzeichnet: „Centurio = Hundertschaftführer = Hauptmann“. Da der Soldatenstand für Juden problematisch war wegen des Ruhegebots am Sabbat und die Juden deswegen vom römischen Kriegsdienst befreit waren, verweist die Berufsbezeichnung auf einen Heiden, und zwar als Mitglied der herodianischen Armee, die als Hilfstruppe der römischen syrischen Legionen überwiegend aus Heiden bestand.4 Die 1

Vgl. P. HOFFMANN/C. HEIL (Hgg.), Die Spruchquelle Q: Studienausgabe, 3. Aufl., Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft/Leuven: Peeters 2009, S. 46; Die Übersetzung habe ich etwas verändert. 2 Vgl. HOFFMANN/H EIL (Hgg.), Die Spruchquelle Q (s. Anm. 1), S. 39. 3 Der terminus technicus der Szene wird nach Genette definiert, vgl. G. GENETTE, Die Erzählung (UTB.W 8083), übers. von A. Kopp, München: Fink 1994, S. 63; Fleddermann bezeichnet Q 7,1 zu Recht als „a narrative introduction“ und lässt Q 7,3 und Q 7,69 als zwei Dialoge folgen, vgl. H. T. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (Biblical Tools and Studies 1), Leuven: Peeters 2005, S. 337, 348. 4 Vgl. J. H. CHARLESWORTH/M. AVIAM, Überlegungen zur Erforschung Galiläas, in: C. Claußen/J. Frey (Hgg.), Jesus und die Archäologie Galiläas (BThSt 87), NeukirchenVluyn: Neukirchener Verlag 2008, S. 93-127, S. 114-116; Cotter weist nach, dass auch

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Quellen ab Philo kennen keinen einzigen jüdischen Centurio. 5 Zwei Partizipien im Präsens leiten einen Sprechakt ein. Der Centurio bittet (παρακαλέω) Jesus indirekt um ein Heilungswunder, indem er lediglich konstatierend berichtet, dass sein „Knecht (παῖς) krank ist“. Der Begriff Knecht (παῖς) zeigt die Doppelstellung der erkrankten Person als Kind des Hauses und zugleich als rechtloser Haussklave an. Der Centurio setzt die Fähigkeit Jesu zum Heilen voraus und weiß sich verantwortlich für die Gesundheit der Mitglieder seines Hauses. Die Einleitung zu einem Heilwunder Jesu ist formgerecht nach dem Stil der Epidauroswunder geschaffen.6 Das Präsens in Bitte und Sprechakt rückt Krankheit und Heilungsfähigkeit in unmittelbare Nähe des Rezipienten. Jesus spricht (λέγει) ebenfalls im Präsens, und zwar überraschend als Frage, ob er „kommen (3. Mal) und ihn heilen werde?“ Das Heilungswort des Hauptteils einer Wundergeschichte wird mit dem Motiv der Erschwernis verzögert.7 Es ist umstritten, ob das Futur „mit Sicherheit eine Verheißung“8 oder eher eine Ablehnung9 ausspricht. Es lässt jedenfalls offen, ob und wie die Erfüllung kommen wird. Das Auftreten des Centurios, seine Bitte und die Antwort Jesu haben eine zweite Erzählsequenz erzeugt.10 Sie steht im Mittelpunkt der drei Sequenzen. Sie schafft auch die Schnittstelle, mit dem Motiv der Erschwernis hinüberzulenken von der Einleitung der Wundergeschichte zu einer Chrie über Glaubensstärke. Die dritte Erzählsequenz bringt die abschließende Klärung. Es findet erneut ein Tempuswechsel zum Aorist statt. Der Centurio gibt eine lange Römer eine Centurio-Stelle bei den Auxiliar-Truppen einnehmen konnten, vgl. W. J. COTTER, The Christ of the Miracle Stories: Portrait through Encounter, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Baker Academic 2010, S. 109-111. 5 Vgl. C. BURCHARD, Zu Matthäus 8,5-13, ZNW 84 (1993), S. 278-288, S. 279. 6 Vgl. R. HERZOG, Die Wunderheilungen von Epidauros: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Medizin und der Religion (Ph.S 22,3), Leipzig: Dieterich 1931; A. WEISER, Was die Bibel Wunder nennt: Ein Sachbuch zu den Berichten der Evangelien, 8. Aufl., Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk 1992, S. 37-42. 7 Vgl. G. THEIßEN, Urchristliche Wundergeschichten: Ein Beitrag zur formgeschichtlichen Erforschung der synoptischen Evangelien (StNT 8), Gütersloh: Mohn 1974, S. 62f. 8 F. RIENECKER, Sprachlicher Schlüssel zum Griechischen Neuen Testament, Gießen: Brunnen Verlag 1970, S. 18; Vgl. auch F LEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 350f.; COTTER, The Christ of the Miracle Stories (s. Anm. 4), S. 130f. 9 Vgl. R. BULTMANN, Die Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, 10. Aufl., Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1975, S. 39; U. LUZ, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus (EKK I), 4 Bde., Zürich: Benziger Verlag/Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag 1985–2002, S. 2:14; M. H ÜNEBURG, Jesus als Wundertäter in der Logienquelle: Ein Beitrag zur Christologie von Q (Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 4), Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt 2001, S. 129. 10 FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 348-351.

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Antwort. Sie umfasst die ehrenvolle Anrede „Herr“ (κύριε), die konstatierende Feststellung der eigenen Unwürdigkeit, die performative Bitte um das Aussprechen eines Heilungswortes, die Erwartung der Heilung und das Gleichnis von der eigenen Vollmacht. Der Kyrios-Titel kommt in Q 20 Mal mit unterschiedlicher Bedeutung vor. Er kann Gott (Q 4,8.12; 10,2.21; 13,35; 16,13), einen Herrn im Gleichnis (Q 12,42.43.45.46; 13,25; 14,21; 19,15.16.18.20) und Jesus (Q 6,46[2]; 7,6; 9,59) bezeichnen. In allen vier Fällen der Bezeichnung Jesu ist Kyrios eine ehrenvolle Anrede, aber noch kein christologischer Hoheitstitel.11 Jesus wird so von seinen Schülern (Q 6,46[2]) und Anhängern aus dem Volk (Q 9,59) angeredet. Diese müssen allerdings gemäß der programmatischen Rede (Q 6,20-49) und den Nachfolgechrien (Q 9,57f. 59f.) ihre Praxis des Glaubens noch verbessern. Der heidnische Fremde zeigt hingegen als einziger bereits schon jetzt die richtige Glaubenspraxis. Die Unwürdigkeit, Jesus im Haus aufzunehmen, verweist nicht auf ein jüdisches Verbot, ein heidnisches Haus zu betreten,12 sondern auf die jüdische Vorsichtsmaßnahme, Verunreinigungen durch unreine Gegenstände, insbesondere unreine Speisen, in einem heidnischen Haus zu vermeiden (mOhalot 18,7; bSchab 127a).13 Lukas übertreibt später, wenn er Petrus gegenüber dem römischen Hauptmann Cornelius von einem Verbot sprechen lässt, als Jude heidnische Häuser zu betreten (Apg 10,28). Die Bitte um das sofortige Aussprechen des Heilungswortes macht die ersehnte Heilung zu einem Fernheilungswunder wie die unabhängige Parallele von der Heilung der Tochter der heidnischen Syrophönizierin (Mk 7,24-30).14 Dann folgt ein Gleichnis.15 Die prononcierte Einleitung mit zwei Partikeln und einem vorangestelltem Personalpronomen „denn auch ich“ stellt den Centurio als einen „Menschen unter einer Vollmacht“ dar, dessen Sta11

Vgl. J. A. FITZMYER, Kyrios, in: EWNT 3, 2. Aufl. (1992) S. 811-828; J. A. F ITZMYER, The Gospel according to Luke: Introduction, Translation, and Notes (AncB 28-28A), 2 Bde., Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday 1981–1985, S. 1:652; J. S. KLOPPENBORG, The Formation of Q: The Trajectories in Ancient Wisdom Collections (Studies in Antiquity and Christianity), Philadelphia, Pa.: Fortress Press 1987, S. 117; Anders Fleddermann: nachösterlicher christologischer Hoheitstitel, den Jesus mit Gott gemeinsam hat, vgl. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 350-353. 12 Gegen S. SCHULZ, Q, die Spruchquelle der Evangelisten, Zürich: Theologischer Verlag 1972, S. 242f. 13 Vgl. M. LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender: Die Logienquelle als erzählte Geschichte (Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 32), Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt 2010, S. 365f. 14 Vgl. BULTMANN, Die Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition (s. Anm. 9), S. 39. 15 Vgl. F. BOVON, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (EKK III), 4 Bde., Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag/Zürich: Benziger Verlag 1989–2009, S. 1:351.

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tus und Handeln verglichen werden kann mit dem Status und Handeln Jesu in der angebrochenen Königsherrschaft Gottes (Q 6,20). Wie der Centurio unter der Vollmacht des Kaisers steht und diese über seine Soldaten ausübt, so hat Jesus die Vollmacht des Geistes Gottes inne, der ihn in die Wüste führte (Q 4,1), und übt die Vollmacht seitdem über den Teufel, die Menschen, den Tempel und den Kosmos aus (Q 4,1-12). Drei Handlungen mit Befehlen an anonyme Personen veranschaulichen die Vollmacht des Centurio. Die ersten zwei Befehle haben Verben der Bewegung und richten sich je an einen Soldaten, der entsprechend mit Weggehen oder Kommen reagiert. Der dritte Befehl lenkt wieder zu einem Knecht zurück, der zeitgeschichtlich präzise als Sklave (δοῦλος) bezeichnet wird, und bezieht sich ganz allgemein auf jegliche Tätigkeit. Auch der Sklave handelt nach dem Befehl. Der Übertrag bezieht sich auf das dämonologische Weltbild. Zwar fehlen bei der Krankheit hier noch die Dämonen, doch für das erwartete Wunder muss Jesus die Krankheitsdämonen austreiben. Der Hörer muss diese Leerstelle zunächst mit seinem zeitgeschichtlichen Wissen auffüllen. Die zweite Wundergeschichte (Q 11,14) und das anschließende Gespräch über die Dämonenaustreibungen (Q 11,15-20) holen dann diese Erklärung nach. Jesu Reaktion und abschließende Sprechhandlung verbleiben im Aorist. Jesus gerät ins Staunen wie später das Volk über seine zweite Wundertat (Q 11,14). Das Erstaunen Jesu zeigt an, dass er den Übertrag auf seine eigene Vollmacht und Taten geleistet hat. Tatsächlich bewirkte Jesus des Weggehen des Teufels (Q 4,13), und Jesus wird jetzt und in Zukunft Krankheiten heilen und Dämonen austreiben (Q 7,22f.; 11,14). Doch das abschließende Wort setzt bewusst einen anderen Schwerpunkt, und zwar den Glauben (πίστις). Jesus antwortet aber nicht dem Centurio, sondern wendet sich an seine Gefolgschaft, die bis jetzt nur aus seinen Schülern besteht (Q 6,20). Die feierliche Einleitungsformel „Ich sage euch“ fällt hier zum erstenmal (Q 7,26.28 u. ö.). Es folgt die Feststellung, dass Jesus „einen so großen Glauben in Israel nicht fand“. Von „Israel“ spricht nur noch das Schlusswort von Q, und zwar wieder in Verbindung mit den Schülern; sie werden die zwölf Stämme Israels richten (Q 22,28.30). Der Gegensatz von „Suchen“ und „Finden“ prägt das Gleichnis vom „verlorenen Schaf“ (Q 15,4-5a.7). Jesus hat bis jetzt Schüler aus Israel gefunden, aber noch nicht ganz Israel. Dieses wird auch in Zukunft nicht vollständig umkehren. Daher werden die Schüler das ungläubige Israel richten (Q 22,28.30). Doch der Glaube des heidnischen Centurios übertrifft schon jetzt den der Schüler und Israels. So werden auch Heiden gemeinsam mit den Schülern und dem umkehrbereiten Israel Anteil an der Königsherrschaft Gottes haben.

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Hauptteil und Schluss der Wunderheilung, also Heilungswort, Heilung, Bestätigung, fehlen weiterhin im narrativen Rahmen. Es liegt keine reine Wundergeschichte vor.16 Der fehlende Hauptteil und Schluss müssen vielmehr vom Leser ergänzt werden. Da der Centurio ausdrücklich um das Heilungswort und den Erfolg gebeten und Jesus den starken Glauben gelobt hat, muss die Heilung als Belohnung des Glaubens erschlossen werden. Es liegt aber auch kein reines biographisches Apophthegma vor,17 sondern eine Mischgattung von einer Wundergeschichte mit einer Chrie und einem Gleichnis (vgl. Mk 2,1-10; 3,6). Christologisch werden Struktur und Inhalt des Glaubens nur angedeutet. Der Centurio vertraut bedingungslos der Heilungskraft Jesu. Daher bedarf er keines Wortes mehr. Jesus wird seine Bitte um Fernheilung erfüllen. Die Betonung von Hineingehen, Kommen und Tun charakterisieren Jesus und seine Schüler als Wanderlehrer mit Wundertaten und Lehre.

2. Chrie, Wunderthematik und Gleichnis als narrative Strategien in Q 2.1 Der Aufbau von Q In Q fehlt die Kommunikation zwischen Autor und Leserschaft. Es gibt keine Überschrift.18 Wie in den Evangelien bleiben Autor und Leser anonym. Zusätzlich bleibt der Inhalt ungenannt. Dennoch lässt sich eine Grobgliederung für Q erkennen. Teil I (Q 3,2–11,52) erhält mit Chrien, Einleitungen zu Reden und Wundergeschichten eine narrative Kohärenz, während in Teil II (Q 12,2–22,30) nur noch eine Chrie (Q 17,20f.) die Aneinanderreihung von Worten und Gleichnissen unterbricht. Nach Labahn besteht Teil II aus „erlebter Rede“.19 Teil I wiederum lässt eine Mitte erkennen, und zwar in Q 7,35. So entsteht die Dreiteilung: I.1. Q 3,2–7,35; I.2. Q 9,57–11,52; II. Q 12,2– 16

Gegen HÜNEBURG, Jesus als Wundertäter in der Logienquelle (s. Anm. 9), S. 126. Anders BULTMANN, Die Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition (s. Anm. 9), S. 39; COTTER, The Christ of the Miracle Stories: Portrait through Encounter (s. Anm. 4), S. 106-109; ähnlich FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 353: „double dialogue form“. 18 Die Critical Edition schlägt allein den Genitiv des Eigennamens Jesus als einen möglichen Rest einer Überschrift vor, vgl. J. M. ROBINSON/P. HOFFMANN/J. S. KLOPPENBORG (eds.), The Critical Edition of Q: A Synopsis Including the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, Mark and Thomas: With English, German and French Translations of Q and Thomas (Hermeneia Supplements), Leuven: Peeters/Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2000, S. 2f. 19 Vgl. LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (s. Anm. 13), S. 174-181. 17

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22,30.20 In der Studienausgabe Q von Hoffmann/Heil trägt Teil I.1 die Nummer A mit der narrativen Überschrift: „Johannes der Täufer und Jesus von Nazara“.21 Hoffmann stellt zu Teil I.1 fest: „Trotz unterschiedlicher Auffassungen über die Redaktionsgeschichte der Spruchsammlung Q besteht in der neueren Q-Forschung weithin Konsens, dass die Abfolge der QStoffe von Q 3 bis Q 7 eine bewusste redaktionelle Intention voraussetzt.“22 Die Nennung des Täufers zu Anfang in Q 3 und dann wieder in Q 7,18f.22f.27-35 schafft eine narrative Klammer für die beiden Hauptakteure.23 Doch Teile I.2 und II untergliedert die Studienausgabe nicht mehr narrativ, sondern thematisch in 7 Blöcke.24 Lässt sich über Teil I.1 hinaus auch für Teil I.2 (Q 9,57–11,52) eine narrative Kohärenz nachweisen?

20 Vgl. LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (s. Anm. 13), S. 169f; ähnlich F LEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 112: 1. Q 3,7–7,35; 2. Q 9,57–11,13; 3. Q 11,14-52; 4. Q 12,2–13,21; 5. Q 13,24–22,30; Teile I 2 und II nach meiner Gliederung werden noch einmal unterteilt; anders KLOPPENBORG, The Formation of Q (s. Anm. 11), S. 92; A. D. J ACOBSON, The First Gospel: An Introduction to Q (Foundations & Facets), Sonoma, Cailf.: Polebridge Press 1992, S. 77-251. 21 HOFFMANN/HEIL (Hgg.), Die Spruchquelle Q (s. Anm. 1), S. 33; Vgl. auch C. HEIL, Lukas und Q: Studien zur lukanischen Redaktion des Spruchevangeliums Q (BZNW 111), Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 2003, S. 42f. 22 P. HOFFMANN, Vom Freudenboten zum Feuertäufer: Johannes der Täufer und Jesus von Nazareth in Q 7, in: U. Busse u.a. (Hgg.), Erinnerung an Jesus: Kontinuität und Diskontinuität in der neutestamentlichen Überlieferung: FS R. Hoppe (BBB 166), Göttingen: V&R unipress/Bonn: Bonn University Press 2011, S. 87-106, S. 87. 23 „Die Frage, die Johannes nach 7,18f. durch seine Jünger stellen lässt, ob er der Kommende sei oder sie auf einen anderen warten sollen, nimmt auf die Q eröffnende Zusammenfassung der Gerichtspredigt des Täufers in Q 3 Bezug. Anlass für die Anfrage ist nach 7,18a, was Johannes (im Gefängnis?) über Jesus hörte. Mit dieser Bemerkung wird die Szene makrotextuell in den Erzählzusammenhang von Q eingebunden“ H OFFMANN, Vom Freudenboten zum Feuertäufer (s. Anm. 22), S. 87. 24 „B. Die Boten des Menschensohnes Q 9,57-11,13“; „C. Jesus im Konflikt mit dieser Generation Q 11,14-52“; „D. Die Jünger in Erwartung des Menschensohnes Q 12,2-13,21“; „E. Die Krisis Israels Q 13,24-14,23“, „F. Die Jünger in der Nachfolge Jesu Q 14,26-17,21“; „G. Das Ende Q 17,23-22,30“ HOFFMANN/HEIL (Hgg.), Die Spruchquelle Q (s. Anm. 1), S. 53-107.

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2.2 Chrien in Q 3–11 2.2.1 Definition Chrie bezeichnet das, was man als Bedarf (χρεία) nötig hat: Apophthegmen, Apomnemoneumata, Gnomen. 25 Man darf den Unterschied zwischen diesen Kleingattungen nicht unnötig formalisieren,26 da die literaturtheoretischen Bestimmungen von Autor zu Autor schwanken und die schriftstellerische Praxis sich nicht eng an die schwach ausgeprägte Literaturtheorie zu halten pflegt.27 Zwei Sammlungen Plutarchs werden noch in antiker Zeit „Apophthegmata“ genannt: „Apophthegmata Laconica“ und „Apophthegmata regum et imperatorum“,28 umgekehrt wird die Sammlung Hekatons vom Kyniker Metrokles als Chrie bezeichnet (Diogenes Laertius 6,95). Chrie gibt die formgeschichtliche Unterscheidung der Apophthegmen in Streitgespräche, Schulgespräche und biographisches Apophthegma auf.29 Daher haben die Chrien Jesu keine kanonisch ideale, protorabbinische Form, wie Bultmann für die Apophthegmen annahm,30 sondern sind in ihrem Aufbau, ihrer Länge und ihrer Thematik variabel.31 Neben knappen, protorabbinischen Dialogen (z.B. Q 9,57-60) finden sich in Q breit ausgeführte Chrien (z.B. Q 4,1-13) und szenisch gerahmte, einfache Aussprüche (z.B. Q 17,20f.).32 25

Vgl. T. KLAUSER/P. DE LABRIOLLE, Apophthegma, in: RAC 1 (1950), S. 545-550, S. 546; R. F. HOCK/E. N. O’N EIL (Hgg.), The Chreia in Ancient Rhetoric, Bd. 1: The Progymnasmata (SBL.TT 27/GRRS 9), Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press 1986, S. 26. 26 Vgl. D. DORMEYER, Das Neue Testament im Rahmen der antiken Literaturgeschichte: Eine Einführung, Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft 1993, S. 159-162; Übersetzung in D. DORMEYER, The New Testament among the Writings of Antiquity, übers. von Rosemarie Kossov, Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press 1998, S. 174-181; Anders K. BERGER, Hellenistische Gattungen im Neuen Testament, in: ANRW II, 25.2 (1984), S. 1031-1432, 1831-1885, S. 1092-1094. 27 Vgl. K LAUSER /DE LABRIOLLE, Apophthegma (s. Anm. 25), S. 546. 28 KLAUSER/D E LABRIOLLE, Apophthegma (s. Anm. 25), S. 546. 29 Gegen BULTMANN, Die Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition (s. Anm. 9), S. 3964. 30 Vgl. BULTMANN, Die Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition (s. Anm. 9), S. 39-64. 31 Vgl. V. K. ROBBINS, The Chreia, in: D. E. Aune (Hg.), Greco-Roman Literature and the New Testament: Selected Forms and Genres (SBibSt 21), Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press 1988, S. 1-23, S. 2-4; B. L. MACK/V. K. ROBBINS, Patterns of Persuasion in the Gospels, Sonoma, Calif.: Polebridge Press 1989, S. 6-29. 32 Fleddermann bestreitet für Q die Existenz von Chrien und räumt für Q nur den Gebrauch der (literary) „form … speeches and dialogues“ ein, FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 96f. Es trifft zu, dass die Reden von den Chrien zu unterscheiden sind. Daher scheidet Fleddermann zu Recht aus den 11 Chrien nach Williams die letzten drei aus, weil sie in einer Rede stehen (Q 11,45-52; 13,22-30; 17,5-6) (a.a.O.): J. G. W ILLIAMS, Parable and Chreia: From Q to Narrative Gospel, Semeia 43 (1988), S. 85-114, S. 96. Doch die Dialoge mit narrativer Einleitung erfüllen

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2.2.2 Ebenen der Narrativität und Tabelle der Chrien Nach der Erzähltheorie ist die Ebene 1 die Ebene des Erzählens zwischen Autor und Leser. Von ihr hängt die Ebene 2 ab. Sie umfasst die Handlung zwischen den erzählten Personen. Ebene 3 ereignet sich innerhalb der Rede der Akteure als eine von Ebene 2 abhängige Erzählhandlung: ,Nullte Ebene‘ der Kommunikation und zugleich Metaebene für die 1. Ebene der Kommunikation

1. Ebene der Kommunikation (zwischen Autor und Leser) und zugleich Metaebene für die 2. Ebene der Kommunikation

2. Ebene der Kommunikation (zwischen im Text dargestellten Personen und zugleich Metaebene für eine eventuelle 3. Ebene der Kommunikation. 33

In Q konstituieren Gleichnisse die Ebene 3, z.B. gehört das Gleichnis von der Autorität (Q 7,8) zur Ebene 3. So ergeben sich bei der Aufgliederung eines Erzähltextes normalerweise 3 Ebenen, die aber noch weiter untergliedert werden können: Chrien des Täufers, Jesu und Einiger aus dem Volk in Q Ebene

Akteure

Ebene 1 3,0–22,30

Autor

--

--

--

Leser

Ebene 2 3,0–22,30

Täufer und Schüler

Jesus

Schüler

Volk, Centurio, einige

Teufel/ Satan/ Beelzebul, Dämonen

3,2b-3a.7-9 Umkehrtaufe und Gerichtsankündigung

Umkehrtaufe

Umkehrtaufe

vollständig die Kriterien für eine Chrie und müssen nicht zu einer eigenen Kleingattung „Dialog“ erklärt werden. 33 D. D ORMEYER, Das Markusevangelium als Idealbiographie von Jesus Christus, dem Nazarener (SBB 43), 2. Aufl., Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk 2002, S. 18-20; Vgl. E. G ÜLICH/W. RAIBLE, Überlegungen zu einer makrostrukturellen Textanalyse, in: E. Gülich/K. Heger/W. Raible (Hgg.), Linguistische Textanalyse: Überlegungen zur Gliederung von Texten (Papiere zur Textlinguistik 8), 2. Aufl., Hamburg: Helmut Buske Verlag 1979, S. 73-126, S. 121.

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Ebene 3,16b-17

Akteure Ankündigung des Kommenden

Scheidung im Weltgericht

4,1-4

Ablehnung Selbsthilfewunder

Forderung: Brotwunder

4,9-12

Ablehnung Schauwunder

Sturz von der Zinne des Tempelbezirks

4,5-8

Ablehnung der Anbetung des Teufels und seiner Wunder

Angebot der Weltherrschaft

7,1.3.6b9.?10?

Heilung des Knechtes des heidnischen Centurio mit Vollmacht

Bitte um Heilung

Gleichnis von der Vollmacht

Ebene 3: 7,8

Ebene 2: 7,18f.22f.

Krankheit

Anfrage

Katalog der Wunder und Seligpreisung

Blindheit, Lahmheit, Aussatz, Taubheit, Tod, Anstoß Nehmen

9,57f.

Forderungen der Nachfolge

Bitte um Nachfolge

9,59f.

Forderungen der Nachfolge

Bitte um Nachfolge

10,21-24

Geheimnis des Sohnes und Seligpreisung

Sehen u.a. der Wunder

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199

Akteure Anbruch der Königsherrschaft Gottes

Vorwurf einiger und Austreibung der Dämonen im Namen Gottes durch Söhne

Beelzebul als Herrscher der Dämonen und ihre Vertreibung

11,15.1726

Dämonenaustreibung mit dem Finger Gottes

Ebene 3: 11,17f.

Gleichnis von der Zwietracht

Keine Zwietracht

Ebene 3: 11,24-26

Gleichnis vom gefegten Haus

Rückkehr in den früher Besessenen

Ebene 2: 11,16.29f. 31f.

Ablehnung der Zeichenforderung für die Gegenwart

17,20f.

Königsherrschaft Gottes schon jetzt

Apokalyptische Zeichenforderung

Sichtbare Entmachtung schon jetzt

Königsherrschaft Gottes unter euch

Q enthält dreizehn Chrien. Es fällt auf, dass weit über die Hälfte, also acht Chrien, über die Wundertätigkeit Jesu gehen. Zusätzlich impliziert die eine Chrie von Teil II, die über die Anwesenheit der Königsherrschaft Gottes handelt, auch den Symbolcharakter der Wundertaten Jesu für diese Königsherrschaft (Q 17,20f.). Und die zwei Chrien des Täufers kündigen von Gott und dem Kommenden gewirkte Wunder der Endzeit an (Q 3,7-9; 3,16b17). Nur die beiden Nachfolgebitten (Q 9,57f.; 9,59f.) haben keinen deutlichen Bezug zu Wundern.34 Chrien und Wunderthematik sind in Q sehr eng miteinander verbunden.

34 Jacobson hält ohne Begründung nur diese beiden Erzählungen für „chreiai“, vgl. J ACOBSON, The First Gospel (s. Anm. 20), S. 67.

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2.3 Die Wunderthematik in Q Q hat nur zwei Wundergeschichten: 1. die Heilung des Knechtes des Hauptmanns von Kafarnaum (Q 7,1.3.6b-9.?10?) und 2. die Heilung eines Taubstummen durch einen Exorzismus (Q 11,14). Nun ist auch an die Heilung des Taubstummen eine Chrie über Jesus als Exorzisten angefügt worden (Q 11,15-22.24-26), und Q 7,1.3.6b-9 ist im Hauptteil und Schluss als Chrie geformt worden und hat als Fortsetzung den Wunderkatalog Jesu als Antwort auf die Täuferanfrage (Q 7,18f.22f.). Jacobson schließt aus diesem schmalen Befund: „Q seems to have little interest in miracles.“35 Doch Jacobson übersieht, dass die Wunderthematik in Q weit umfassender ist, als die beiden Wunder und ihre Kommentierungen anzeigen. Über die Chrien mit Wunderthematik und die beiden Wundergeschichten hinaus gibt es viele weitere Texte zu Wundern.36 Folgende Gattungen behandeln noch die Wunderthematik: die Prophetien des Täufers (Q 3,8.17), die Epiphanie mit der Geistsendung nach der Umkehrtaufe Jesu (Q 3,21; 4,1), die Seligpreisungen in der ersten Rede (Q 6,20f.) und in der Aussendungsrede (Q 10,23f.), das Logion von der Wundervollmacht der Schüler (Q 10,9), die Weherufe (Q 10,13.15), die Gleichnisse von der Vollmacht (Q 7,8), von der Zwietracht (Q 11,17f.) und vom gefegten Haus (Q 11,24-26) und die Prophetie vom Kommen des Menschensohnes zum Weltgericht (Q 17,24.26?30.34f.). Gleich die erste Szene „Die Botschaft des Johannes Q 3,2b-17“37 setzt mit der Ankündigung von Wundern ein. Gott kann nach Jes 51,1f. aus Steinen das verurteilte und vernichtete Israel ersetzen (Q 3,8.17). Für den Leser wird die Erwartung aufgebaut, dass die Mitglieder von Israel, die die Umkehr verweigern, durch andere Mitglieder aus den Völkern ersetzt werden. Die erste Wundergeschichte (Q 7,1.3.6-9.?10?) löst diese Erwartung ein. Die Protagonisten inszenieren die unterschiedlichen Möglichkeiten des Austausches. Für Johannes erfolgt der Zugang der Völker im nahe bevorstehenden Weltgericht. Doch für Jesus ereignet er sich schon jetzt, unter anderem in seinen Wundertaten.

35

JACOBSON, The First Gospel (s. Anm. 20), S. 112; dagegen E. E. POPKES, Die Wundererzählungen in der Logienquelle Q: Hinführung, in: R. Zimmermann u.a. (Hgg.), Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen, Bd. 1: Die Wunder Jesu, Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2013, S. 165-171. 36 Vgl. die Tabelle zur Wunderthematik in Tat und Wort Jesu und seiner Schüler in Q von D. DORMEYER, Narrativität und Theologie der Wunder in Q, in: C. Heil/G. Harb/M. Hölscher (Hgg.), Built on Rock or Sand? Q Studies – Retrospects, Introspects and Prospects (BEThL), Leuven: Peeters (im Erscheinen). 37 HOFFMANN/HEIL (Hgg.), Die Spruchquelle Q (s. Anm. 1), S. 32; ROBINSON/ H OFFMANN/KLOPPENBORG (Hgg.), The Critical Edition of Q (s. Anm. 18), S. 4-17.

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In den Szenen „Taufe und Versuchungen“ tritt Jesus nach der Johannesrede erstmals in Erscheinung. Gott wirkt schon jetzt für ihn das erste eschatologische Wunder. Gott öffnet den Himmel und lässt seinen Geist auf Jesus herabkommen (Q 3,21f.; 4,1). Von jetzt an ist Jesus permanent Geistträger (Q 3,16). Der Geist führt ihn in die Wüste zur Erprobung durch den Diabolos, den Verwirrer (vgl. Ijob 1,6–2,10). Der Geistbesitz impliziert die Vollmacht zur Wundertätigkeit (Q 7,8.22) und zur weisheitlichen Schriftauslegung (Q 12,10.12). Prophetische Rede und Bericht von der Wundertätigkeit Gottes und Jesu leiten Q ein. Auf die drei Versuchungen folgen drei Seligpreisungen. Matthäus erweitert sie später auf acht (Mt 5,3-10). Hier fällt zum ersten Mal die Metapher Königsherrschaft Gottes in Verbindung mit Jes 61,1f. Die drei Seligpreisungen für die Schüler sind weit gefasst. Sie schließen Krankheiten, die durch Dämonen verursacht werden, mit ein (Q 6,21f.). Auf „Jesu programmatische Rede Q 4,16; 6,20-49“ folgt die einzige ausführliche Wundergeschichte, die Fernheilung des Knechtes des heidnischen Hauptmanns (Q 7,1.3.6b-9.?10?). Sie realisiert somatisch die Zusage der Königsherrschaft Gottes, insbesondere für Heiden, und erfüllt die Verheißung des Johannes. Die Gruppe der Kranken, für die explizit die Gottesherrschaft bereits angebrochen ist, wird später in der Missionsinstruktion für die Schüler erneut erwähnt: „Und heilt die Kranken in ihr und sagt ihnen: Nahe zu euch ist die Königsherrschaft Gottes gekommen“ (Q 10,9). Die Schüler erhalten hier und dann zum Abschluss der Chrie über Dämonenaustreibungen (Q 11,14-20) Jesu Geist-Fähigkeit, die unreinen Geister zu vertreiben und die von ihnen verursachten Krankheiten zu heilen. Es schließen sich Weherufe über drei galiläische Ortschaften an, in denen Jesus zunächst mit Wundertaten (δυνάµεις) erfolgreich gewirkt hat: Chorazin und Betsaida, nur hier erwähnt und nahe bei Kafarnaum liegend (par Mt 11,21), und Kafarnaum (Q 7,1). Tyrus und Sidon im Libanon hatten sich als Nachbarstädte Israels schon im Alten Testament feindselig gegenüber Jahwe verhalten (Jes 23). Wie Sodoma werden aber auch die libanesischen Städte Gnade im Weltgericht finden (Q 10,12-15). Die Einwohner der drei galiläischen Städte werden aber nicht gerettet werden, sondern sich im Hades als Schatten ohne Beziehung zu Gott und ohne Bewusstsein ihrer früheren Identität aufhalten. Die Seligpreisung der „Sehenden“ (Q 10,23f.) wiederholt die Antwort Jesu auf die Johannesfrage mit der Betonung des „Sehens“ (Q 7,22). Es umfasst das bisherige gesamte Auftreten Jesu und betont besonders die Wundertätigkeit.

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In der Mitte von Q lehnt Jesus die Forderung von „einigen“ nach einem eindeutigen, apokalyptischen Zeichen ab; stattdessen verweist er rätselhaft auf das Zeichen des Jona, auf das Kommen der Königin des Südens zum Gericht und die Umkehr und Teilnahme der Niniviten am Gericht (Q 11,16.29f.31f.). Gottes Tat der künftigen, endzeitlichen Einsetzung des Menschensohnes als Weltenrichter verleiht ihm schon jetzt beim irdischen Wirken eschatologische Autorität. Der wiederkommende Menschensohn wird das Verfolgungsschicksal der Weisen und Propheten umkehren und die Täter verurteilen (Q 11,49-51). In Teil II von Q (Q 12,2-22,30) werden keine Wundertätigkeiten und keine direkten Worte Jesu zu Wundern mehr berichtet. Denn „diese Generation“ erwartet unverständig eindeutige Zeichen von Gott für den Beginn des Eschatons (Q 12,54-56; 17,20f.). Solche Zeichen wurden aber schon in den drei Versuchungen am Anfang zurückgewiesen (Q 4,1f.). Die Chrie über das Jona-Zeichen rahmt mit der Versuchungsgeschichte den ersten Teil von Q ein, der das öffentliche Auftreten Jesu mit Wundervollmacht und-diskussion schildert, und markiert den Mittelpunkt von Q. Den positiven Charakteren Johannes, Jesus und Schüler stehen bei den Wundern die ambivalenten Figuren Volksmenge, irgendeiner und die Gegner diese Generation, Dämonen und Teufel/Diabolos gegenüber.38 Das Wiederkommen des Menschensohnes schließt Q ab. Der Menschensohn erfüllt am Ende der Zeit die prophetische Verheißung des Weltgerichts, erscheint mit kosmischer Wunderkraft wie der Blitz und bewirkt den Untergang der Nicht-Glaubenden (Q 17,24.26?30.34f.). Er beteiligt abschließend die Schüler am Gericht über Israel (Q 22,28.30). 2.4 Gleichnisse in Q Nach der Tabelle des „Kompendiums der Gleichnisse Jesu“ enthält Q 28 Gleichnisse.39 In Teil I stehen 13 Gleichnisse, in Teil II 15 Gleichnisse. Sie 38

Vgl. LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (s. Anm. 13), S. 249-459. Vgl. R. ZIMMERMANN u.a. (Hgg.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu, Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2007, S. 59f.; Zimmermann hebt die Unterscheidung der Gleichnisse von Jülicher in „Gleichnis im engeren Sinne“, „Parabel“ und „Beispielerzählung“ auf und spricht nur noch im anglo-amerikanischen Sinne von Parabeln. Kloppenborg und Fleddermann wiederum halten an der Unterscheidung von „brief similes“ und „parables“ fest; daher kommt Kloppenburg nur zu zehn Parabeln, vgl. J. S. K LOPPENBORG, Jesus and the Parables of Jesus in Q, in: R. A. Piper (Hg.), The Gospels behind the Gospels: Current Studies on Q (NT.S 75), Leiden: E. J. Brill 1995, S. 275319, S. 285-287. Fleddermann bleibt mit veränderter Aufzählung ebenfalls bei 10 Parabeln: Q 6,47-49; 7,31-34; 11,21-22.24-26; 12,39-40; 12,42b-46; 12,58-59; 13,18-21; 14,16-21.23; 15,4-5.7; 19,12-13.15-20a.21.20b.22-24.26, vgl. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 93f. Q 11,21f. sollte den 28 Gleichnissen zugefügt werden, da diese Parabel auch in der Studienausgabe und der Critical 39

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sind gleichmäßig auf und über die beiden Teile verteilt: Q 6,39.40.41f. 43-45.47-49; 7,31-35; 10,2.22; 11,9-13.14-20.24-26.33.34f.; 12,24.26-28. 39f.42-46.54-56,58f.; 13,18f.20f.24-27; 14,16-23.34f.; 15,4-5a.7; 16,13; 17,34f.37; 19,12f.15-24.26. Hinzuzurechnen sind zwei Gerichtsgleichnisse des Täufers (Q 3,9.17) und das Gleichnis des Centurios von der Vollmacht (Q 7,8). Zur Wunderthematik haben nur vier Gleichnisse einen Bezug: von der Vollmacht (Q 7,8), von der Zwietracht (Q 11,17f.), vom gefegten Haus (Q 11,24-26) und von den Wetterregeln (Q 12,54-56). Die Wunderthematik steht nicht im Mittelpunkt der Logien und Gleichnisse. Doch sie ist unablösbar mit dem narrativen Rahmen von Q verbunden, den die Chrien und die zwei Wundergeschichten herstellen.

3. Die Erzählung vom Centurio, das Gespräch mit dem Täufer und die Rede über den Täufer (Q 7,1.3.6b-9.?10?; 18f.22f.24-35) als Zentrum von Teil I von Q (Q 3,2–11,51) Jesu Versuchungen am Anfang von Q gehen über den möglichen Missbrauch von Wundern. Der erste Spannungsbogen, der Plot, ist aufgebaut, ob Jesus Wunder vollbringen wird und wie er diese Gefahr vermeiden wird. Die Bitte des Centurios führt das erste Wunder ein. Sie vermeidet Selbsthilfe, öffentliches Spektakel und politische Machttat, die Jesus in den Versuchungen zurückgewiesen hatte, und beschränkt sich auf das Heilen von Krankheiten. Ganz im Sinne der Seligpreisung der Trauernden (Q 6,21) hört sich Jesus die Bitte des Centurios an. Die verzögernde Frage Jesu trägt zum einen den Versuchungen am Anfang Rechnung. Jesus will nicht als spektakulärer Wundertäter auftreten. Außerdem spielt die Begegnung mit dem Centurio auf die politische Macht an.40 Jesus will nicht eine bewaffnete Armee von Nachfolgern um sich scharen (Q 4,5-8). So gibt Jesus dem Centurio den Raum, seinen eigenen Glauben zu formulieren. In der vorangegangenen Programmrede an die Schüler hatte Jesus für seine ehrenvolle Anrede als „Herr“ das Handeln nach seinen Forderungen zur Bedingung gemacht. Der Centurio kennt zwar diese Rede noch nicht, handelt aber exakt nach dieser Bedingung. Er redet Jesus als „Herrn“ an, weil er bedingungslos seiner Vollmacht zum Heilen und Lehren vertraut. Edition steht. Zugleich wird deutlich, dass auch die längeren Parabeln gleichmäßig auf Teil I und II von Q verteilt sind. 40 Jesus schockt die jüdischen Hörer durch die Zuwendung zu einem Offizier der repressiven römischen und herodianischen Armee (vgl. Lk 3,14), vgl. COTTER, The Christ of the Miracle Stories (s. Anm. 4), S. 127-131.

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Der zweite Handlungsbogen, und zwar der von der richtigen Glaubenspraxis, wird mit der Wunderthematik zusammengebracht (s.o. 1). Jesus und die Schüler vertreiben als Wanderlehrer die Dämonen (Q 11,14.1520), lassen die Kräfte der Gesundheit mit der Botschaft von der angebrochenen Königsherrschaft Gottes zurückkehren (Q 10,9) und rufen alle Glaubenden auf, nach den Worten Jesu, des Herrn, zu handeln (ποιέω Q 6,46; 7,8). Israel ist aufgefordert, wie der Centurio sich von den Wundern beeindrucken zu lassen und zu Jesu Verkündigung von Gottes Herrschaft umzukehren. Doch nur wenige aus Israel kehren um. Die ehrende Anrede Kyrios und die Vollmacht Jesu zu Wundern spielen auf die Christologie an. In der Programmrede hatte Jesus den Anbruch der Königsherrschaft Gottes verkündet (Q 6,20). Jetzt realisiert er gleich anschließend deren heilende Kräfte. Er ist der bevollmächtigte Verkünder der Königsherrschaft Gottes und hat als Sohn Gottes die Herrschaft über den Teufel, die Dämonen und den Kosmos inne (Q 4,1-13). Der Hoheitstitel Menschensohn fällt hier noch nicht, sondern erst zum Abschluss der Rede über den Täufer (7,34). Schon jetzt kündigt sich in den Wundertaten Jesu der wiederkommende Menschensohn mit kosmischer Wunderkraft an. Hoffmann erkennt zwar die Vollmacht der Schüler zu Heilungswundern (Q 10,9) und die Vollmacht Jesu zu Exorzismen an (Q 11,14-20), sieht in dem Katalog Q 7,22f. aber nur die Ankündigung von Gottes eschatologischen Taten.41 Doch wenn die Schüler heilen können, sprechen Autor und Leser Jesus erst recht eine umfassende Heilungstätigkeit zu. Der Katalog baut mit Hilfe von Jesaja eine Differenzierung der Heilungswunder auf, ohne diese im Einzelnen aufzuführen (Jes 26,19; 29,18; 35,5f; 42,7.18; 61,1). Nur die Heilung des Taubstummen erfüllt Jes 35,5f. Auch Wunder Gottes gemäß diesem Katalog werden nicht erwähnt. Q will keine Aretalogie-Sammlung von Jesus oder Gott bieten, wohl aber Jesus schon jetzt die christologische Vollmacht zusprechen, den Anbruch der Königsherrschaft Gottes und das nahe Weltgericht des Menschensohnes in den Wundern als Haupt-Plot zu symbolisieren. Die Szene vom Centurio schafft bewusst die Mischform von Chrie, Wundergeschichte und Gleichnis, um die drei Spannungsbögen des Spruchevangeliums Q miteinander zu verbinden: 1. christologische Symbolvollmacht mit Wundern und Worten, 2. Wunder ohne Missbrauch und 3. Glaubenspraxis nach den Worten und Taten Jesu. Der Abschluss von Teil I wiederholt dieses Verfahren (Q 11,14-20). Bei den Handlungsträgern nimmt der Centurio eine Ausnahmestellung ein. Neben Jesus und dem Täufer ist er der einzige, der ein Gleichnis erzählt. Johannes vollendet den alten Äon und gehört bereits zum neuen Äon mit der angebrochenen Königsherrschaft Gottes (Q 7,28). Im Stil der 41

Vgl. HOFFMANN, Vom Freudenboten zum Feuertäufer (s. Anm. 22), S. 92-97.

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alten Generationen spricht er als Prophet Gerichtsworte mit Gleichnissen über Israel (Q 7,26; 3,7-9.16b-17). Jesus ist der bevollmächtigte Verkünder der Königsherrschaft Gottes und daher der Haupterzähler der Gleichnisse. Der Hauptmann repräsentiert die Völker in der angebrochenen Königsherrschaft Gottes.42 Sie werden in Zukunft für die Bildung neuer Gleichnisse sorgen. Kennen die Verfasser von Q den christlichen Judenhellenisten Paulus und seine heidenchristliche Mannschaft (Gal 1–2)?43 Auf alle Fälle hat kein Akteur aus den Schülern und dem Volk eine solch herausragende Stellung durch Berufsnennung und Gleichnisbildung erhalten wie der Centurio. Q kennt nur wenige Berufe. Die meisten stammen aus dem Gebiet der Weisheit und ihrer Vermittlung: γραµµατεύς (Q 11,16), διδάσκαλος (Q 6,40 [2]), µαθητής (Q 6,20 u.ö.), νοµικός (Q 7,30; 11,46.52), προφήτης (Q 6,23 u.ö.), σοφός (Q 10,21; 11,49); drei kommen aus der Verwaltung: ἄρχων (Q 11,15), κριτής (Q 11,19; 12,58 [2]), τελώνης (Q 6,32; [7,29]; 7,34), zwei aus dem militärischen Bereich: στρατιώτης (Q 7,8), ἑκατόνταρχος (Q 7,3. 6.10) und je einer aus dem Geldwesen: τραπεζίτης (Q 19,23), aus der Landwirtschaft: ἐργάτης (Q 10,2 [2].7) und eventuell aus der Erotik: πόρνη (Q [7,29]). Die Begriffe: βασιλεύς, δοῦλος, σύνδουλος, ὑπηρέτης und οἰκοδεσπότης sind m.E. keine Berufs-, sondern Standesbezeichnungen. Es fällt auf, dass der militärische Bereich mit zwei Berufen vertreten ist und so oft wie der Zöllnerberuf genannt wird. So könnte als Hypothese in Anlehnung an John Kloppenborg formuliert werden, dass der Centurio auf einen heidnischen Mitverfasser von Q verweist, so wie die Zöllner eine gebildete Trägerschicht von Q darstellen.44 Die Centurionen, die aus dem normalen Soldatenstand hervorgehen, sind das Rückgrat des römischen Militärs und seiner Hilfstruppen. Sie sind z. T. literarisch gebildet (Apg 10,1-48; 22,23-29). Zur Zeit des frühen Prinzipats nehmen sie bereits eine Schlüsselrolle ein. Einer Verschwörung aus Militärtribunen und Centurionen gelingt die Ermordung des größenwahnsinnigen Kaisers Caligula (Suet. Cal. 56-58).45 Ein Centurio ist der Großvater von Kaiser Vespasian (Suet. Vesp. 1). Vespasians Vater ist übrigens 42

Vgl. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 352f. Vgl. E. K. C. W ONG , Evangelien im Dialog mit Paulus: Eine intertextuelle Studie zu den Synoptikern (NTOA/StUNT 89), Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 2012, S. 119121, 157-176. 44 Vgl. J. S. K LOPPENBORG , Oral und Literate Contexts for the Sayings Gospel Q, in: C. Heil/G. Harb/M. Hölscher (Hgg.), Built on Rock or Sand? (s. Anm. 36); Cotter entwirft eine eindrucksvolle soziokulturelle Charakteristik des Centurio-Berufs, vgl. COTTER, The Christ of the Miracle Stories (s. Anm. 4), S. 109-127. 45 Vgl. A. WINTERLING , Caligula: Eine Biographie, München: Beck Verlag 2003, S. 163f.; Der Haupttäter, ein alter Militärtribun, hatte keinen senatorischen Rang und kam daher aus den Centurionen (Suet. Cal. 56). 43

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ein Zöllner (Suet. Vesp. 1). Centurio und Zöllner bilden die Ahnen von Vespasian. Centurionen können von Anfang an die Jesus-Bewegung als rettende Reformbewegung für das römische Reich erkannt haben. Die lukanische Stilisierung der Centurionen (Lk 7,1-10; Apg 10,1-48; 22,2329; 27,1-4) hat bereits in Q ein starkes Fundament.46

46 Vgl. D. DORMEYER/F. G ALINDO, Die Apostelgeschichte: Ein Kommentar für die Praxis, Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk 2003, S. 161-174, 336-340, 370-382.

“The Medium is the Message”1: What Q’s Content Tells Us about its Medium Robert A. Derrenbacker, Jr. An investigation of the potential medium for the lost Sayings Source Q has been largely ignored by NT scholarship, perhaps chiefly due to the assumption that Q originally circulated (and was accessed by Matthew and Luke) in the form of a scroll. This understanding is based on the (correct) supposition that the scroll or book-roll was the dominant writing medium in the first century, at least for most finished literary productions. As well, this view of Q in the form of a scroll may come from the popular assumption that the finished products of Matthew and Luke (as well as the other evangelists) were also produced in that same medium, at least initially. In 2005, I made the somewhat cursory and under-explored suggestion that readers of my book Ancient Compositional Practices and the Synoptic Problem should consider imagining Matthew (and possibly Luke) having access to the Sayings Gospel Q in the form of a codex-like medium.2 This possibility, I argued, might better account for how Matthew was able to resequence the Q material – a codex-like medium would have provided more random access to the document. I, of course, was not the first to suggest this medium for Q. For example, Ulrich Luz has argued the following: “Q hatte also vermutlich die Gestalt einer Zettelsammlung oder eines fadengebundenen Notizheftes …”3 For Luz, this potential medium for Q could help one better understand the mechanics of Matthew’s use of Q in the composition of his Gospel. As well, Luz’s student, Migaku Sato, made a 1

The phrase “the medium is the message” was coined by M. McLuhan (1911–1980), a Canadian literary critic and media technologist, first used in his book Understanding Media: M. MC LUHAN, Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man, New York, N.Y.: Mentor 1964. The phrase has had various understandings over the years, including the notion that there is an interdependent relationship between a medium and its content. 2 Cf. R. A. DERRENBACKER JR., Ancient Compositional Practices and the Synoptic Problem (BEThL 186), Leuven: Peeters 2005, pp. 253-255. 3 U. LUZ, Matthäus und Q, in: R. Hoppe/U. Busse (eds.), Von Jesus zum Christus: Christologische Studien: FS P. Hoffmann (BZNW 93), Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 1998, pp. 201-215, p. 209.

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similar proposition, positing the Ringbuch, or “loose-leaf notebook,” as the potential medium for Q.4 Sato did so chiefly to explain the compositional development of Q as three recensions or “redactional blocks,” a process “characterized by successive reformulation.”5 Sato argued that Q “was never composed as a finished book,” but likely evolved as a “redactor may have carefully laid the pages of existing notebooks on top of each other, like wax tablets, bound them together with a cord or a ring.” 6 To suggest “notebooks” for “pre-Canonical” writings by followers of Jesus is not new. In 2005, Graham Stanton made the following general remarks: Even before Paul wrote his first “canonical” letter c. AD 50, followers of Jesus were accustomed to use the predecessors of the codex-book format, various kinds of “notebooks.” They used them for Scriptural excerpts and testimonies, for drafts and copies of letters, and probably also for collections of traditions of both the actions and teachings of Jesus.7

A variety of others had previously argued similarly – Birger Gerhardsson had done so,8 as well as Saul Lieberman, who maintained that the early followers of Jesus wrote the sayings of Jesus in notebooks, pinakes (hinged wax tablets), and in codices or “private small rolls.”9 Richard Bauckham has more recently suggested that early followers of Jesus may have “noted down Jesus traditions in notebooks for the private use of Christian teach-

4

See M. SATO, Q und Prophetie: Studien zur Gattungs- und Traditionsgeschichte der Quelle Q (WUNT II, 29), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 1988, pp. 62-65. This section is translated into English: IDEM, The Shape of the Q-Source, in: J. S. Kloppenborg (ed.), The Shape of Q: Signal Essays on the Sayings Gospel, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 1994, pp. 156-179, pp. 178-179. 5 SATO, The Shape of the Q-Source (see n. 4), p. 177 (emphasis original). 6 SATO, The Shape of the Q-Source (see n. 4), p. 178. J. M. Robinson was one of the few who took up Sato’s suggested medium in his larger critique of Sato’s book, Q und Prophetie (see n. 4). However, Robinson’s focus was less on Sato’s understanding of the potential medium for Q and more on Sato’s description of the compositional history (and genre) of Q. In the end, Sato’s description of Q as a Ringbuch is not invalidated by Robinson’s critique. See J. M. ROBINSON, Die Logienquelle: Weisheit oder Prophetie? Anfragen an Migaku Sato, Q und Prophetie, EvTh 53 (1993), pp. 367-389. 7 G. S TANTON, Jesus and Gospel, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2004, p. 165. 8 Cf. B. GERHARDSSON, Memory and Manuscript: Oral Tradition and Written Transmission in Rabbinic Judaism and Early Christianity (ASNU 22), Uppsala: Gleerup 1961, esp. pp. 157-163 and 194-207. 9 S. LIEBERMAN, Hellenism in Jewish Palestine: Studies in the Literary Transmission Beliefs and Manners of Palestine in the I Century B. C. E. – IV Century C. E. (TSJTSA 18), 2nd ed., New York, N.Y.: Jewish Theological Seminary of America 1962, p. 205.

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ers.”10 And just recently, Michael Bird argued in the blogosphere that Q may have “started out” as a notebook.11 Bird brings us back to our focus – the potential medium for Q, and what the contents of Q might tell us about this question. I will build on Sato’s and Luz’s thesis, arguing that Q should be seen as circulating in an early form of the codex, what I will call a “proto-codex.”

1. Notebooks, “Proto-Codices,” and the Evolution of the Ancient Book As a way to begin, it is important to recall just how the codex achieved parity with the scroll circa 300 C.E., followed by its eventual replacement of the scroll as the preferred medium for published written texts.12 As is well known, the Christian adoption of the codex was, as Colin H. Roberts and T. C. Skeat put it, almost “instant and universal,” as compared to “secular literature” where the process of the codex replacing the scroll was “slow and piecemeal.”13 The literary artifacts from antiquity demonstrate that by the third century, the codex was as popular as the scroll as a medium for Christian literature, with the scroll nearly vanishing from Christian bookshelves by the fifth century.14 While there are various theories that have been put forward to explain this relatively quick media transition,15 clearly the codex enjoyed some advantages over the scroll 10

R. BAUCKHAM, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses: The Gospels as Eyewitness Testimony, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 2006, p. 289. 11 “The tradition known to source critics as ‘Q’ may have started out as a note book of Jesus’ sayings. The constant shadow of proto-Gospel theories in solutions to the Synoptic problem suggests at least the possibility of early notebooks/extract/digests about Jesus before AD 70 … Thus, it is highly probable that notebooks were used by Jesus’ own disciples and by later adherents in the early church to assist in memory retention by functioning as an aide-mémoire.” M. BIRD, The Jesus Tradition and Notebooks, Euangelion blog (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/euangelion/2012/03/the-jesus-traditionand-notebooks/ [accessed May 20, 2012]). 12 Cf. C. H. ROBERTS/T. C. SKEAT, The Birth of the Codex, Oxford: Oxford University Press 1983, p. 75. 13 ROBERTS/SKEAT, The Birth of the Codex (see n. 12), p. 53. 14 See ROBERTS/SKEAT, The Birth of the Codex (see n. 12), p. 37; And S. R. LLEWELYN, The Development of the Codex, in: Idem (ed.), A Review of the Greek Inscriptions and Papyri Published in 1982–1983 (NDIEC 7), North Ryde, N.S.W.: Ancient Document Research Centre Macquarie University 1994, pp. 249-256, p. 251. 15 Llewelyn summarizes four different approaches, cf. LLEWELYN, The Development of the Codex (see n. 14), pp. 251-254, the first two of which have been put forward by ROBERTS/SKEAT, The Birth of the Codex (see n. 12), pp. 54-61: 1) “The Markan Hypothesis,” 2) “The Antioch Hypothesis,” 3) “The Socio-Economic Hypothesis” (put

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(e.g., its ease of access, its compactness), which may have also played a role in its relatively quick adaptation, particularly by early Christian scribes and readers. The best summary and interaction with these theories that attempt to explain the reasons why Christian scribes adopted the codex as their preferred medium comes from Stephen R. Llewelyn in volume seven of New Documents Illustrating Early Christianity.16 There, Llewelyn concludes that it is not likely that one, single theory can adequately explain the many reasons why the codex replaces the scroll. This contribution, of course, is not trying to answer the question tackled by Roberts and Skeat and Llewelyn, as interesting as it may be, but to think a bit about the potential medium for Q. Again, Luz and Sato have suggested the Ringbuch or “notebook” medium, a medium one might call a “proto-codex.” Therefore, we need to revisit what sorts of proto-codex media would be available to writers in the first century C.E. While the formal codex-medium does not begin to appear until the latter part of the first and second centuries C.E.,17 “codex-like” media would have been found at least as early as the first century, media that would have represented a stage in the evolution of the ancient book from scroll to codex. Wax tablets functioned as a prototype to the codex, the ancient equivalent of chalk and hand-held slate. Wax tablets could be hinged together in a stack or held individually by a student, scribe or author. The wax surface could be reused, with the handwriting “erased” through the smoothing of the wax. Most often, wax tablets were used for note taking. Taking notes on a wax tablet was quicker than using ink with parchment or papyrus, as the wax tablet stylus would not need to be constantly dipped into an ink pot. Wax tablets were used for writing exercises in the ancient classroom, for record keeping by tax collectors, administrators, or business people, or for general note taking for literary production. According to Diogenes Laertius,18 Plato’s secretary – Philip of Opus – copied the en-

forward by G. CAVALLO, Libri, Editori e Pubblico nel mondo antico: Guida storica e critica, Rome: Laterza 1975, pp. xix-xxii, 83-86), and 4) “The Roman Hypothesis” (put forward by J. VAN H AELST, Les origines du codex, in: A. Blanchard (ed.), Les débuts du codex (Bibliologia. Elementa ad librorum studia pertinentia 9), Turnhout: Brepols 1989, pp. 13-35, pp. 32-35. 16 Cf. LLEWELYN, The Development of the Codex (see n. 14), pp. 247-256. See also L. W. HURTADO, The Earliest Christian Artifacts, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 2006, esp. pp. 43-94. 17 Llewelyn catalogues five “codices” from the late 1st/early 2nd centuries and 14 from nd the 2 century, cf. LLEWELYN, The Development of the Codex (see n. 14), p. 251; See also the more comprehensive cataloguing of codices by E. TURNER, The Typology of the Early Codex, Eugene, Oreg.: Wipf & Stock 1977, pp. 101-185. 18 Cf. Diogenes Laertius, Lives of Ancient Philosophers, 3.37.

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tirety of Plato’s work The Laws from wax tablets onto papyrus, a work that is some 400 pages in a modern published edition.19 A similar prototype to the codex is the parchment notebook, or in Latin, membrana. Here the term membranae or “parchments” does not so much indicate material, but medium. Roberts and Skeat devote an entire chapter in The Birth of the Codex to the parchment notebook.20 They conclude that by the time of Horace in the first century B.C. E., “a differentiation had arisen between the singular membrana, meaning the material, and the plural membranae, meaning the parchment note-book.”21 Similarly, Harry Gamble has noted that Quintilian appears to be the first to refer to these parchment notebooks, doing so in the late first century C. E.,22 where Quintilian remarks that those with “weak sight” might prefer reading the membranarum over the wax tablet.23 As Gamble remarks “the term membranae in such close conjunction with the mention of wax tablets indicates that a parchment codex is meant” by Quintilian.24 Roberts and Skeat agree: “… the allusion to the wax tablet and the blank pages [by Quintilian] show that the codex form was in question. With Quintilian we have reached a stage in the history of the codex when it is more than a tablet but still less than a book.”25 And of course, there is also the well-known reference by the author of 2 Timothy. There, the writer urges Timothy to bring with him “the books (τὰ βιβλία) and above all τὰς µεµβράνας” (2 Tim 4,13). Given the contrast drawn between “the books” and τὰς µεµβράνας, many commentators see the term “parchments” referring to this notebook medium and not material. And finally, as is well documented, Martial describes a “parchment” (membrana) edition of his poetry in the late first century that was to be purchased from a Roman bookseller. This edition “confines its writing to small pages” (quos artat brevibus … tabellis), and is, Martial says, compact enough for only “one hand to grasp” and an adequate size for use while travelling.26 Its location on the bookshelves of a local bookseller makes this the first known reference to a “published” codex-like manuscript, and appears to be unfamiliar to Martial’s readers.27 19 Cf. A. MILLARD, Reading and Writing in the Time of Jesus (BiSe 69), Sheffield: Academic Press 2000, p. 28. 20 Cf. ROBERTS/SKEAT, The Birth of the Codex (see n. 12), pp. 15-23. 21 ROBERTS/SKEAT, The Birth of the Codex (see n. 12), p. 20. 22 Cf. H. GAMBLE, Books and Readers in the Early Church: A History of Early Christian Texts, New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press 1995, p. 50. 23 Cf. Quintilian, Inst. Or. 10.3.31-32. 24 GAMBLE, Books and Readers (see n. 22), p. 269. 25 ROBERTS/SKEAT, The Birth of the Codex (see n. 12), p. 21. 26 Martial, Epigrams, 1.2. 27 Cf. ROBERTS/SKEAT, The Birth of the Codex (see n. 12), p. 25.

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Robert Kraft has recently brought into this discussion Martial’s “Apophoreta” (Book 14 of the Epigrams) where Martial makes reference to a number of literary “gifts” given to guests at a dinner party. Included on this list are the works of Homer in “hand-held parchment (notebooks?)” (pugillaribus membraneis) on “many folds of skin” (14.184), as well as Ovid’s Metamorpheses found on “parchment” that is “built up” with “multi-fold tablets” (14.192). This transitional medium of a proto-codex notebook, Kraft remarks, became a regular feature of basic education in literacy for centuries, and [was] also basic for various other things such as legal records … and bookkeeping, especially the recording of debts, for which they could be transmitted to heirs as evidence of debt value … Authors also used them for rough drafts (Quintilian), for taking notes (elder Pliny), and mathematicians and astronomers for making calculations and diagrams. 28

Kraft then is able to conclude that “this rudimentary form of codex technology was widely known and used, even when ‘high literature’ took the form of scrolls or later, of developed codices.”29 Finally, it is worth mentioning briefly an argument made by Roger Bagnall in light of Luke’s portrayal of Jesus reading Isaiah at the synagogue in Nazareth in Luke 4,16-30. Bagnall argues that the descriptions of the actions of Jesus that bookend the Isaiah quotation (ἀναπτύξας τὸ βιβλίον [“opening the book” (4,17)] and πτύξας τὸ βιβλίον [“closing the book” (4,20)]) indicate not the “unrolling” and “rolling up” of a scroll, but rather to the “unfolding” or “opening” and “folding” or “closing” of a codex-like book.30 Thus, there is significant literary (as well as some archeological31) evidence for the extensive use of the “proto-codex” notebook medium in the first and second centuries. This medium is again, as Roberts and Skeat put it, “more than a tablet but still less than a book.”32 But it was flexible in that it could serve transitionally as a pre-publication medium or, as in at

28 R. KRAFT, Jews, Christians, and Others: Late Antique Perceptions of Book Formats, or, Scrolls, Notebooks, Codices, and More: The Early History of Book Formats in Texts and Art, http://ccat.sas.upenn/edu/rak/publics/codex/ (accessed May 21, 2012). 29 KRAFT, Jews, Christians, and Others (see n. 28). 30 Cf. R. S. BAGNALL, Jesus Reads a Book, JTS 51 (2000), pp. 577-588. But see the rejoinder by P. VAN MINNEN , Luke 14:17-20 and the Handling of Ancient Books, JTS 52 (2001), pp. 689-690. 31 For example, see P.Berol. 7358/7359 (Berlin), a 2nd century C.E. parchment notebook that recorded employed laborers and their payments. See also the papyrus and parchment notebooks ranging from the 3rd century B.C.E. to the 7th century C.E. catalogued by R. CRIBIORE, Writing, Teachers, and Students in Graeco-Roman Egypt (ASP 36), Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press 1996, pp. 269-284. 32 ROBERTS/SKEAT, The Birth of the Codex (see n. 12), p. 21.

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least the case of Martial, a medium that could be “published” and sold by a bookseller. The proto-codex was a medium that was portable, compact and easily accessible. Conceiving Q in this medium allows us to more easily imagine how the writers of Matthew and Luke may have accessed and referenced this written source as they composed their Gospels from their two written source-texts – Mark and Q. This medium is particularly helpful when we see how the writer of Matthew accessed Q, a written document that was largely accessed out of sequence, but reworked and reincorporated into the Gospel in a very different order. Q as a proto-codex would have allowed the writer of Matthew relatively easy access to the Q material in nonsequential fashion. Take, for example, the Q material on serving two masters (Q 16,13) or the kingdom of heaven suffering violence (Q 16,16), sayings accessed by Matthew by deviating significantly from the overall order of Q and yet sayings that Matthew changes relatively little in terms of wording. So a Q in this transitional medium of a “proto-codex” may have afforded Matthew (and perhaps Luke) a compact and relatively easily accessible collection of sayings of Jesus.

2. The Social Location of the Writers of Q and their Media Also worth considering is the social location of the writers of Q together with its potential medium as a proto-codex. The codex as a distinct medium itself has been associated by codicologists with lower-classed writers and readers. Eric Turner has remarked that during the second and third century, the papyrus codex was a “second-class book” when compared to the scroll.33 Such a papyrus codex, Turner points out, often displays handwriting that is “of an informal and workaday type, fairly quickly written, serviceable rather than beautiful, of value to a [person] interested in the content of what he [or she] is reading rather than its presentation.”34 Loveday Alexander makes a similar argument, doing so in light of an early third-century funerary relief from Roman Gaul that depicts a householder holding a roll, while his clerk works with codex-like tabellae (“tablets”). Alexander concludes that the “codex-form belongs to the world of work and commerce on which the householder’s wealth is based, not to the

33 34

TURNER, Typology of the Early Codex (see n. 17), p. 37. TURNER, Typology of the Early Codex (see n. 17), p. 37.

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leisured, aristocratic lifestyle evoked by [the householder holding a scroll on] the front of the monument.”35 This connection between the proto-codex and social location becomes particularly focused when we imagine municipal scribalism as the social location behind the production of Q. Identifying the writers of Q with a particular administrative class of “village scribes” or κοµογραµµατεῖς has been put forward by a number of scholars, including William Arnal, John Kloppenborg, and more recently, Giovanni Bazzana.36 A “village scribe” was a professional engaged in practical and bureaucratic writing (e.g., tax and census matters), not in the production of “high” literature as literary artists.37 This class of literate individuals is conceived to be responsible for the production of Q. Assuming, for the moment, municipal scribalism as the social location of the Q-composers, the question for us to consider is what we imagine would be the preferred media of this class of public and private administrative “village scribes,” and it may be that proto-codex-type media are most associated with this sort of writing class. The proto-codex was a practical, compact, and easily accessible medium, one that would be consistent with the social location of the κοµογραµµατεῖς and presumably used by them on a regular basis. As Kloppenborg has noted, these sorts of scribes should be seen on the lower rungs of “the professional ladder,” engaged, as Arnal has remarked, “by agricultural production as their fellow-villagers and were drawn from the local peasantry itself.”38 In fact, it is worth noting that Josephus locates the κοµογραµµατεῖς as an inferior class, questioning the value of the education that they received.39 So it may be that we should associate the proto-codex most readily with this scribal class.

35

L. A LEXANDER, Ancient Book Production and the Circulation of the Gospels, in: R. Bauckham (ed.), The Gospels for All Christians: Rethinking The Gospel Audiences, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 1998, pp. 71-111, p. 80. 36 Cf. W. E. ARNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes: Galilean Conflicts and the Setting of Q, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2001; J. S. KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q: The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press /Edinburgh: T & T Clark 2000, pp. 200-201; G. BAZZANA, Village Scribes Behind Q: The Social and Political Profile of the Sayings Gospel in Light of Documentary Papyri, in: C. Heil/G. Harb/M. Hölscher (eds.), Built on Rock or Sand? Q Studies – Retrospects, Introspects and Prospects (BEThL), Leuven: Peeters (forthcoming). 37 As Kloppenborg remarks: “These scribes should not be placed too high on the professional ladder. This is indicated by Q’s general lack of compositional affectations, by the generally mundane topics it addresses, and by the unpretentious nature of its rhetorical appeals” KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 36), p. 200. 38 KLOPPENBORG V ERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 36), p. 200 and ARNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes (see n. 36), p. 152. 39 Cf. Josephus, A.J. 1.24.3 (479).

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If, for the sake of argument, one is to imagine the social literate class of “village scribes” (κοµογραµµατεῖς) behind the Sayings Gospel, one could seek to discover the various media regularly employed by this group of writers. Giovanni Bazzana has done a significant amount of work looking at Egyptian κοµογραµµατεῖς, specifically the village scribe Menches, whose papyri from the late second century B. C.E. have been discovered in Tebtunis.40 Bazzana has commented that while Egyptian village scribes like Menches would employ scrolls for their record keeping, they would often redeploy these scrolls by writing on the verso sides. Included here would be drafts of letters, complaints, or copies of sections of text “of more literary nature.”41 While these Egyptian village scribes are not working with proto-codices/notebooks per se, they are working with recycled media, often writing on the verso sides of such media in codex-like fashion. The work that Bazanna has done in comparing the papyrological evidence for a rather obscure apocalyptic text from Egypt (“Oracle of the Potter”) to similar NT apocalyptic texts is also worth mentioning.42 The only manuscript evidence for the “Oracle” is found in five documentary papyri (dating from the second to late third century C.E.), all of which include the text of the “Oracle” on the verso side of these papyri. In other words, the only textual evidence for the existence of the “Oracle” is found in opisthographs – papyri reused and redeployed with writing on the verso. Bazanna notes the similar phenomenon in the papyrological evidence for John’s Apocalypse, noting two examples of opisthographic papyri – scrolls redeployed for writing the Apocalypse (i.e., P98 and P18 [P.Oxy. VIII 1079]). Bazzana speculates that the “strong political and anti-imperial message [of an apocalyptic text like the ‘Oracle’ or the Apocalypse of John] … may have contributed to demote it out of mainstream circles of reading and copying.”43

40 It is worth noting that while literature of Galilean κοµογραµµατεῖς has not survived the climate of Galilee (which is quite different from Egypt), we are confident that this scribal class did exist in that region. See ARNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes (see n. 36), pp. 150-155. 41 G. BAZZANA, private communication, June 20, 2012. See, in particular P.Tebt. I and II, which include this sort of mixture of literary genres in papyri that are reused for different literary purposes. 42 See G. BAZZANA, Reading Apocalyptic Literature in Egypt: Manuscripts and the Social Function of a Literary Genre, in: C. Clivaz et al. (eds.), Lire demain: Des manuscrits antiques à l'ère digitale/Reading Tomorrow: From Ancient Manuscripts to the Digital Era, Lausanne: Presses polytechniques et universitaires romandes 2012, pp. 443454, pp. 445-456. 43 BAZZANA, Reading Apocalyptic Literature in Egypt (see n. 42), p. 452.

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Thus, we see that the content and genre of an ancient text may have determined the medium in which it would be deployed. If Q was a product of village scribes who were, as Arnal puts it, “dramatically uprooted in their social and professional standing,”44 perhaps not unlike the scribal class behind the apocalyptic texts investigated by Bazzana, Q may also have been “demoted out of mainstream circles of reading and copying.” As such, then, Q may have circulated in a medium more consistent with such demotion.

3. Q as an aide-mémoire and the Evolution of the Jesus Tradition It is worth noting the transitional nature of Q in the evolution of the Jesus tradition as it moved toward a particular fixity in the canonical Gospels. A number of scholars have recently suggested that Q functioned as an aidemémoire, a “memory aid” that allowed Q to be redeployed in other contexts.45 Kloppenborg states, for example, that Q may have functioned “as a script or an aide mémoire, encapsulating the substance of what the Q people thought most salient about the kingdom of God.”46 More particularly, Kloppenborg argues that Q’s apparent use by James suggests that as an aide-mémoire, Q may have been “intended to function as a resource for rhetorical emulation [aemulatio] rather than as a ‘source’ for replication.”47 As such, Q’s practical function was as a “reference work” of sorts that assisted followers of Jesus in committing his sayings and some of his deeds to memory. If it was, one can think of no better an ancient medium than the proto-codex for Q. Perhaps Q’s content determined its

44

ARNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes (see n. 36), p. 155. See, for example, T. H ÄGG, The Art of Biography in Antiquity, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2012, pp. 159-160. Similarly, R. Bauckham suggests that notebooks containing “Jesus traditions” could have been created “for the private use of Christian teachers” and would “have reinforced the capacity of oral transmission itself to preserve the traditions faithfully,” R. BAUCKHAM, Jesus and the Eyewitnesses (see n. 10), p. 289. Such notebooks “may account for some of the so-called Q passages where Matthew and Luke are in almost entirely verbatim agreement” ibid., p. 289. 46 J. S. K LOPPENBORG, Oral and Literate Contexts for the Sayings Gospel Q, in: Heil/Harb/Hölscher (eds.), Built on Rock or Sand? (see n. 36). 47 KLOPPENBORG , Oral and Literate Contexts (see n. 46), p. 19; See IDEM, The Emulation of the Jesus Tradition in the Letter of James, in: R. L. Webb/J. S. Kloppenborg (eds.), Reading James with New Eyes: Methodological Reassessments of the Letter of James, (Library of New Testament Studies), London: T & T Clark 2007, pp. 121-150, pp. 125-133. 45

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medium, seeing Q in a very practical and no-nonsense light, similar to the every-day literature with which the village scribes work on a daily basis. Additionally, it is worth considering the types of material found in Q. As has been widely recognized since the “discovery” of Q in 1838 by Ch. Hermann Weiße, the Q-document is almost exclusively comprised of sayings material, and only little narrative (i.e., the Temptations [Q 4,1-13], the Healing of the Centurion’s Servant [Q 7,1-10], and perhaps the Baptism of Jesus, if it was in Q [Q 3,21-22]). It is generally agreed that this narrative material was added at a later (perhaps the last) stage of composition.48 Perhaps these two phenomena – Q as an aide-mémoire and the nature of the material contained therein – point to Q’s transitional status in the Jesus tradition, locating Q on a trajectory between orally transmitted logia and a written bios of Jesus. In his recent monograph on the writing of biographies in the ancient world, Tomas Hägg argues that existence of the Temptation narrative in the midst of a “sayings gospel” shows Q “to be heading towards a narrative account of Jesus and his message” with the “compiler” or “last redactor” having “some kind of biographical concept at the back of his mind …”49 And, of course, Kloppenborg’s argument in The Formation of Q that while Q is “primarily a speech or sayings collection,” “… there is also movement in the direction of biography.” 50 So, it would seem that Q’s function was “transitional.” Hence, given its transitional nature, it is realistic to imagine Q being deployed in a “transitional” medium, like a proto-codex.

4. Conclusion: Did Q’s Medium as a Proto-Codex Seal its Fate? In conclusion, it is worth considering briefly just one more question often asked of (and occasionally by) Q scholars: What happened to Q? Or, in other words, why was Q “lost” and what were the circumstances that contributed to that “loss”? Kloppenborg, for example, thinks that “Q’s disap48 See, for example, J. S. KLOPPENBORG, The Formation of Q: Trajectories in Ancient Wisdom Collections (Studies in Antiquity and Christianity), Philadelphia, Pa.: Fortress Press 1987, pp. 246-262, p. 248 where he argues that the Temptation narrative “has every appearance of a later interpolation.” See also the similar argument made by A. D. J ACOBSON, The First Gospel: An Introduction to Q (Foundations & Facets), Sonoma, Calif.: Polebridge Press 1992, pp. 90-95. 49 HÄGG, Art of Biography (see n. 45), p. 161 (emphasis original). 50 KLOPPENBORG , The Formation of Q (see n. 48), p. 262. For further discussion of this trajectory, see IDEM , Excavating Q (see n. 36), pp. 405-407.

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pearance may simply have been a function of failing to be ‘adopted’ by one of the consolidating [literary] forces of the second and third centuries; or it may have been an accident of geography: Q was never copied in Egypt.”51 In light of this present study, however, perhaps we could add another point of conjecture, that Q’s medium determined its fate. As a proto-codex or “notebook,” Q existed in a medium that was unlike the scroll, book-roll or codex, all which could function to publicly preserve a text into the future and were recognized in antiquity as “proper books,”52 unlike the proto-codex. Bazzana’s study on the “Oracle of the Potter” is germane here as this text was nearly “lost,” save for five different copies of it written on opisthographic media. So Q, in the form of a proto-codex potentially produced by non-elite κοµογραµµατεῖς, may have disappeared because of its medium. The proto-codex was a transitional medium, not just compositionally, but also historically. Compositionally, the proto-codex was transitional as it could serve as a bridge between earlier and later compositional stages. Historically, it was a transitional medium as it bridged the eras of the scroll or book-roll on the one hand, and the codex on the other. The protocodex was an evolutionary link between the eras. So its medium may have determined it was not a worthy candidate for preservation in the more permanent and iconic scroll and codex media. To summarize then, this paper has attempted to establish the protocodex as a potential medium for the Sayings Gospel Q. This would have been a medium available to the writers of Q, particularly if they were “working-class” scribes, perhaps of the κοµογραµµατεῖς variety. As well, the proto-codex is a transitional medium consistent with seeing Q as an aide-mémoire whose sayings could be emulated and redeployed in other contexts. Additionally, this medium would have afforded Matthew (and Luke) relatively easy access to the sayings of Jesus contained therein, allowing Matthew (and perhaps Luke) to more easily incorporate this material in their Gospel texts. And finally, this potential medium may explain why Q disappeared. Granted, there are several more areas that need to be explained and more fully explored. For example, we should begin to think some more about the ekdosis of Q and just how both Matthew and Luke independently acquired Q in a proto-codex form. As well, we need to spend some more 51

KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 36), p. 367. In commenting on the quick and early adoption of the codex in Christian circles, Gamble states the following: “To appreciate how peculiar this step was one must realize that a codex or leaf book was not recognized in antiquity as a proper book,” GAMBLE, Books and Readers in the Early Church (see n. 22), p. 49 [emphasis added]. 52

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time looking at the various media in which “village-scribal” literature is found. Despite these remaining questions, however, what I have attempted to do is to identify a medium that was known in the Greco-Roman world that may have been adapted by the writers of Q for very pragmatic reasons. It is fitting, then, that we should both be inspired by Johannes Gutenberg’s revolutionizing of publishing technology with the invention of the printing press in the city of Mainz more than 500 years ago and contemplate other such technological innovations in the literary world of early Jesus traditions.

Nicht wie die Schriftgelehrten: Nichtschriftgelehrte Rezeption alttestamentlich-jüdischer Traditionen in der Logienquelle und im Koran Marco Frenschkowski Religion im jüdischen, christlichen und islamischen Kulturraum ist immer auch Umgang mit Heiligen Texten.1 Dieser Umgang hat sehr unterschiedliche Gestaltungen, und das religiöse und theologische Profil etwa einer antiken christlichen Quelle dokumentiert sich ganz wesentlich in der Art ihrer spezifischen Bezugnahme auf komplexe Prätexte. Diese sind seit je ein Forschungsthema der exegetischen Wissenschaften, was aber keineswegs heißt, dass es hier nicht noch neue Fragestellungen und neue Entdeckungen geben könnte. Gerade die komplexen Variationen der Intertextualität standen in den vergangenen Jahrzehnten stark im Vordergrund der biblischen Forschung überhaupt, nicht zuletzt im Gespräch mit elaborierten literaturwissenschaftlichen Differenzierungen. Man wird hier etwa an die bibelwissenschaftliche Rezeption von Fragestellungen von Roland Barthes, Julia Kristeva, Harold Bloom und vor allem Gérard Genette denken.2 In den folgenden thesenartigen Ausführungen soll nun sensibilisiert durch solche und ähnliche literaturwissenschaftlichen Ansätze nach dem genauen Charakter der Bezugnahme auf alttestamentliche Prätexte in der Logienquelle (vielfach auch Spruchevangelium genannt) gefragt werden. 1 Eine knappe allgemeine Analyse des Phänomens „Heilige Schriften“ bietet M. FRENSCHKOWSKI, Heilige Schriften der Weltreligionen und religiösen Bewegungen, Wiesbaden: Marix 2007. 2 Aus der reichen Literatur nenne ich exemplarisch G. G ENETTE, Palimpseste: Die Literatur auf zweiter Stufe, 2. Aufl., Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp 1996 (zuerst französisch: Palimpsestes: la littérature au second degré, Paris: Seuil 1982). Vgl. allgemein R. LACHMANN, Ebenen des Intertextualitätsbegriffs, in: K. Stierle/R. Warning (Hgg.), Das Gespräch, München: W. Fink 1984, S. 133-138; DIES. (Hg.), Dialogizität, München: W. Fink 1982; G. ALLAN, Intertextuality, London: Routledge 2000 sowie zur Rezeption in der Exegese exemplarisch S. E. P ORTER , The Use of the Old Testament in the New Testament: A Brief Comment on Method and Terminology, in: C. A. Evans/J. A. Sanders (Hgg.), Early Christian Interpretation of the Scriptures of Israel: Investigations and Proposals, Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press 1997 (JSNT.S 148), S. 79-96.

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Allerdings liegt schon in dieser Formulierung ein Hauptproblem, wie wir sehen werden, das uns auf die Hauptthese dieses Beitrages führen wird. Sehr knapp gesagt wird die strukturierte Textlichkeit und Schriftlichkeit der in Q vorausgesetzten jüdischen Referenzgrößen zum Problem werden. Dazu blicken wir zum Einstieg kurz auf das Spektrum plausibler und möglicher Schriftbezüge in Q, um dann in einem zweiten Schritt eine knappe differenzierende Typologie potentieller Schriftbezüge aufzustellen, die sich an sozialen und kommunikativen Orten der Rezeption von geprägten Traditionen orientiert, um in einem dritten Schritt einen konkreten, vielleicht auf den ersten Blick überraschenden religionsgeschichtlichen Vergleich durchzuführen. Dieser wird uns helfen, das spezifische Problem deutlicher in den Griff zu bekommen, und sollte überhaupt beitragen, das Q-Dokument, wenn auch ein hypothetisches Schriftstück, doch in seiner Eigenart besser in den Blick zu bekommen. Schon bei flüchtiger Analyse sehen wir, dass es ein differenziertes Spektrum an Bezügen auf Alttestamentliches und traditionell Jüdisches in der Logienquelle3 gibt. Harry Fleddermann hat in seinem vielschichtigen Kommentar von 2005 auch die Zitate zusammengestellt und gewürdigt,4 dabei allerdings eher pauschal von „quotations“ gesprochen, wo m.E. zum Teil nur vage Bezüge auf Figuren bzw. Rezeptionen von biblischen Redewendungen vorliegen (dazu unten ausführlicher). Immerhin hat er – die ältere Forschung zusammenfassend – gezeigt, dass die Schriftbezüge, wie immer man sie genau nennen und in ihrer Intertextualität definieren will,

3 Ich bleibe bei dieser relativ neutralen, traditionellen Benennung, und ersetze sie nicht durch programmatische Formulierungen wie Spruchevangelium u.ä. Zur Begründung dieser Zurückhaltung andernorts. 4 H. T. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (Biblical Tools and Studies 1), Leuven: Peeters 2005, S. 97f. Vgl. zum Schriftgebrauch in Q v.a. auch D. C. A LLISON JR., The Intertextual Jesus: Scripture in Q, Harrisburg, Pa.: Trinity Press International 2000 sowie aus der älteren Literatur C. M. TUCKETT, Scripture in Q, in: Ders. (Hg.), The Scriptures in the Gospels (BEThL 131), Leuven: Leuven University Press 1997, S. 3-26; J. SCHLOSSER, Lʼutilisation des Écritures dans la source Q, in: S. Légasse/ A. Marchadour (Hgg.), LʼÉvangile exploré: FS Simon Légasse (LeDiv 166), Paris: Éditions du Cerf 1996, S. 123-146. Noch ältere Darstellungen zum Thema (etwa S. S CHULZ, Q, die Spruchquelle der Evangelisten, Zürich: Theologischer Verlag 1972, S. 27f.) haben nur noch forschungsgeschichtliches Interesse. Schulz’ These, Q habe nur in Q 7,24-28 die Hebraica vorausgesetzt, ist ganz unsicher. Es kann sich um ein freies oder Gedächtniszitat handeln. Vgl. schon J. J EREMIAS, Die Sprache des Lukasevangeliums (KEK Sonderband), Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1980, S. 164 (der eine Kombination eines Zitates aus Ex 23,20 LXX mit Reminiszenzen an Mal 3,1 LXX vermutet) und v.a. die detaillierte Diskussion bei A LLISON, The Intertextual Jesus, S. 38-40 („conflated quotation“ mit Nähe zu Mal 3,1b TM, wozu er zahlreiche jüdische Parallelen nennt).

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im rekonstruierten Q-Text5 alle offenbar auf die Septuaginta zurückgehen (einmal vielleicht auf Proto-Theodotion: Q 13,19 stammt nach Fleddermann aus Dan 4,21 in dieser Fassung; s. aber unten). Zumindest die Endfassung von Q stammt also von einem Kompilator, der SeptuagintaSprache im Ohr hatte. Dale C. Allison hatte das Thema bereits etwas früher in monographischer Form aufgenommen und detaillierte Analysen zu den einzelnen Texten vorgelegt, dabei jedoch die Schriftlichkeit der Prätexte der Logienquelle nicht zum Problem werden lassen. Sein maximalistischer Ansatz steht vielmehr in einer gewissen Gefahr, potentielle Anspielungen auf biblische Vorgaben als tatsächliche zu behandeln, obwohl er verschiedene Formen des Bezugs durchaus differenziert („marked quotation“, „unmarked quotation“, „explicit referance“ und „allusion“).6 Es wird angebracht sein, hier sehr vorsichtig zu formulieren. Zitate im engeren Sinn mit Zitationsformeln sind in Q jedenfalls nach dem übereinstimmenden Urteil der Forschung außerodentlich selten.7 Einzig die Versuchungsgeschichte Q 4 mit ihrem raffinierten Textspiel stellt einen singulären Extremfall dar, der in Q keine weitere Parallele hat. 8 Rede und Gegenrede werden hier in sorgfältig und souverän gewählten Zitaten aus Dtn 6,13.16 und 8,3 (vgl. 10,20) sowie Ps 91,11f. geführt. In dieser Perikope wird ohne Frage ein hohes Maß an tendenziell professioneller Schriftkenntnis sichtbar, die mit ihren Bezugstexten geradezu jonglieren kann. Die Perikope verteidigt Jesus gegen konkurrierende Modelle von Messianität und unterstreicht den jüdischen Monotheismus als bleibenden Referenzrahmen seines Auftretens. Nun ist aber die Sonderstellung von Q 4 innerhalb der Logienquelle unbestritten (z.B. heißt entgegen sonstigem Sprachgebrauch der Teufel nur hier ὁ διάβολος). Zwar muss man wohl nicht so 5 Fleddermanns eigene Rekonstruktion (FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary [s. Anm. 4], S. 873-913) unterscheidet sich in diversen Details von dem mittlerweile meist vorausgesetzten Text der Critical Edition. 6 A LLISON, The Intertextual Jesus (s. Anm. 4), S. 181-184. 7 Das zeigt auch Allison’s seine Ergebnisse zusammenfassende Zusammenstellung (ALLISON, The Intertextual Jesus [s. Anm. 4], S. 181-184). „Marked quotations“ findet er nur in Q 4 mehrfach sowie in Q 7,27. Während er acht „explicit references“ finden will, ist die Zahl der (meist extrem vagen) „allusions“ 52 (oft mit „?“). „Unmarked quotations“ will er an drei Stellen finden (Q 12,51-53 aus Mi 7,6; Q 13,27 aus Ps 6,8 und Q 13,34f. aus Ps 118,26). Sein Leitinteresse ist dabei zu zeigen, dass Q in allen Teilen der hebräischen Bibel (wenn auch in ihrer griechischen Fassung) verwurzelt sei, eine These, die von seinen öfter nur vagen Ähnlichkeiten nicht wirklich getragen wird. 8 Vgl. T. H IEKE, Schriftgelehrsamkeit in der Logienquelle: Die alttestamentlichen Zitate in der Versuchungsgeschichte Q 4,1-13, in: J. M. Asgeirsson/K. de Troyer/M. W. Meyer (Hgg.), From Quest to Q: FS James M. Robinson (BEThL 146), Leuven: Leuven University Press/Peeters 2000, S. 43-71; dazu auch M. LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender: Die Logienquelle als erzählte Geschichte (Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 32), Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt 2010, S. 251-265.

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weit gehen wie Andreas Lindemann, der vorgeschlagen hat, dass Q 4 überhaupt nicht zu Q gehört habe: dieser Texte sei vielmehr eine Mt und Lk gemeinsame Sonderüberlieferung, die von Q abzugrenzen immer methodisch schwierig ist.9 Eher scheint mir mit John Kloppenborg plausibel, dass Q 4 einer späten, vielleicht letzten Schicht in Q angehört oder, wie vielleicht besser zu sagen sein könnte, einem letzten Schritt auf dem unabgeschlossenen Weg der Buchwerdung von Q. Thomas Hieke hat in einer sorgfältigen Untersuchung die Textvernetzungen in der Versuchungsgeschichte analysiert. Er hat mit Recht diesen Text als schriftgelehrt charakterisiert. Es muss aber doch deutlich hinzugefügt werden, dass Q 4 eben gerade nicht typisch für die Logienquelle ist, sondern einen singulären Sonderfall darstellt, der wahrscheinlich sogar auf einen eigenen Autor dieses Traditionsstückes weist. Kein anderer Text in Q inszeniert auch nur von Ferne ein derart raffiniertes Wechselgespräch mit Schriftzitaten, und auch darüber hinaus wird man Mühe haben, im frühen Christentum wirkliche Parallelen zu finden – der Charakter der Schriftnutzung etwa bei Mt, Paulus oder im Hebräerbrief ist ja doch ganz anders gelagert. Q 7,18-23 und 6,20-23, die Täuferanfrage und die Seligpreisungen, gelten als weitere Cluster von Schriftbezügen. Sie verwenden aber keine Zitationsformeln und bedienen sich bei Lichte besehen nur biblischer Sprachwendungen in einer gewissen Häufung, die sich nicht zum Zitat verdichten.10 Jedenfalls setzen sie nicht voraus, dass der Kompilator von Q bei seiner Zusammenstellung der Logienquelle alttestamentliche Texte konkret als Rollen vor sich hatte und aus diesen exzerpiert. Natürlich beweisen sie auch nicht das Gegenteil.

9 A. LINDEMANN, Die Logienquelle Q: Fragen an eine gut begründete Hypothese, in: Ders. (Hg.), The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus (BEThL 158), Leuven: Leuven University Press/Peeters 2001, S. 3-26 (wieder abgedruckt in: DERS., Die Evangelien und die Apostelgeschichte: Studien zu ihrer Theologie und zu ihrer Geschichte [WUNT 241], Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2009, S. 164-185). Vgl. zum methodischen Problem der Unterscheidung von Q-Stoff und Traditionen, die Mt und Lk aus ihrer Sonderüberlieferung zufällig gemeinsam haben: A. SCRIBA, Echtheitskriterien der Jesus-Forschung: Kritische Revision und konstruktiver Neuansatz (THEOS 74), Hamburg: Dr. Kovač 2007, S. 129-136. Scriba sieht allerdings m.E. nicht hinreichend, dass wir mit dem sprachlichen, stilistischen, kompositorischen und theologischen Profil von Q doch auch ein ergänzendes Argument für die Zugehörigkeit von Texten zu Q besitzen, das über das formale Vorliegen einer Mt-Lk-Parallele ohne Markuspendant deutlich hinausgeht. Sein minimalistischer Ansatz (S. 134: nur 9 sichere Q-Texte) überzeugt daher m.E. nicht. Die Frage muss aber weiter diskutiert werden: keinesfalls darf die Rekonstruktion der Critical Edition als vorfindliches antikes Buch behandelt werden. 10 Vgl. T. HIEKE, Q 7:22 – A Compendium of Isaian Eschatology, EThL 82 (2006) S. 173-185.

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Die noch am ehesten mit Q 4 an Komplexibilität vergleichbare Komposition Q 11,14-26 (der Beelzebul-Vorwurf) argumentiert zwar, kommt aber ohne jeden expliziten Schriftbeleg aus. Das ist für einen so zentralen Sachverhalt, in dem Jesu Teufelsbündnerschaft widerlegt werden soll, ganz erstaunlich. Q 11,24-26 (die Rückkehr des unreinen Geistes) ist dabei ein Stück dämonologischer Lehre, ein Text, der aus einem dämonologischen Lehrbuch stammen könnte (wie wir es in Gestalt des Testamentum Salomonis ja aus etwas jüngerer Zeit tatsächlich besitzen). Auch Q 11,24-26 verzichtet auf jeden Schriftbeweis oder auch nur -bezug. Die Bedeutung dieser Beobachtung werden wir ganz neu würdigen müssen. Ein scheinbar eindeutiges Zitat mit Zitationsformel γέγραπται steht immerhin Q 7,27: was aber folgt, ist ein traditionelles Mischzitat aus Ex 23,20 und Mal 3,1: οὗτός ἐστιν περὶ οὗ γέγραπται, Ἰδοὺ 〚ἐγὼ〛 ἀποστέλλω τὸν ἄγγελόν µου πρὸ προσώπου σου, ὃς κατασκευάσει τὴν ὁδόν σου ἔµπροσθέν σου. Die Parallele Mk 1,2 mit falscher Zuweisung an Jesaja (in den Handschriften dann gelegentlich korrigiert) beweist, dass diese Referenz mit kleinen Variationen als freies Legitimationswort für den Täufer umlief und insofern gerade kein Zitat im engeren Sinn ist, wenn es auch einen Schrifthintergrund hat. Der Text hat sich gegenüber seinen biblischen Vorlagen vollständig verselbständigt und führt offenbar ein Eigenleben. Er zeigt in keiner Weise, dass der Kompilator über ein „Bücherwissen“ verfügt. Ähnliche Einschränkungen sind in Hinsicht auf andere scheinbare Schriftbezüge geltend zu machen. Im Weheruf gegen galiläische Städte Q 10,13-15 hat man gerne einen Bezug auf Jes 14,12-15 sehen wollen: πῶς ἐξέπεσεν ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ ὁ ἑωσφόρος ὁ πρωΐ ἀνατέλλων; συνετρίβη εἰς τὴν γῆν ὁ ἀποστέλλων πρὸς πάντα τὰ ἔθνη. σὺ δὲ εἶπας ἐν τῇ διανοίᾳ σου· εἰς τὸν οὐρανὸν ἀναβήσομαι, ἐπάνω τῶν ἀστέρων τοῦ οὐρανοῦ θήσω τὸν θρόνον μου, καθιῶ ἐν ὄρει ὑψηλῷ, ἐπὶ τὰ ὄρη τὰ ὑψηλὰ τὰ πρὸς Βορρᾶν, ἀναβήσομαι ἐπάνω τῶν νεφελῶν, ἔσομαι ὅμοιος τῷ ῾Υψίστῳ. νῦν δὲ εἰς ᾅδου (v. l. ᾅδην) καταβήσῃ καὶ εἰς τὰ θεμέλια τῆς γῆς.

Aber auch diese Referenz ja doch ganz vage: beide Texte sind Weherufe, aber derjenige des alttestamentlichen Propheten richtet sich gegen den König von Babel als Weltherrscher, während das Wort Jesu sich ganz im galiläisch-phönizischen Raum und seinen Gegensätzen bewegt, also „vor der Haustüre“ bleibt (ein Fußmarsch von Kapernaum selbst nach Sidon wird nicht mehr als drei Tage benötigen). Im Grunde ist hier eher ein Motiv benutzt als ein Text, das Motiv der hybrishaften Erhöhung mit nachfolgendem Sturz in die Unterwelt, auch wenn sich Belege dafür finden lassen, dass das Szenario von Jes 14,12-15 im antiken Judentum auf den Gottlosen in einem allgemeineren Sinn bezogen werden konnte (Dan 8,9f.; 11,36; 2 Makk 9; Sap 4,18f.; Hen[aeth] 46 u.a.).11 Aber selbst die Wort11

Diskutiert bei ALLISON, The Intertextual Jesus (s. Anm. 4), S. 115.

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lautübereinstimmung ist nicht sehr groß: Q sagt ὑψωθήσῃ statt ἀναβήσοµαι, ἕως οὐρανοῦ statt εἰς τὸν οὐρανόν usw. Es liegt eher eine Motivassoziation vor als ein Zitat. Ähnliches lässt sich für viele der angeblichen Textbezüge in Q zeigen: sie zielen eher auf Wendungen und Figuren als auf wirkliche Texte. Nun hat bekanntlich Barbara Aland12 bestritten, dass man bei vielen Anspielungen der frühchristlichen Evangelienliteratur überhaupt von Zitaten im modernen Sinn sprechen könne – allerdings argumentiert sie in Hinsicht auf die Zitation neutestamentlicher Texte durch christliche Autoren bis über die Mitte des 2. Jh. hinaus: „Was die Evangelien betrifft, so ist es sachgemäßer, bis etwa zur Mitte des 2. Jahrhunderts gar nicht von Zitaten zu reden, sondern von der Weitergabe des synoptischen Stoffes durch die umprägende, neu formulierende sowie Neues hinzufügende und erweiternde Kraft der lebendigen, vom Geist erfüllten Gemeinde und ihrer Predigt.“13 Der Text ist niemals wirklich stabil, vor allem wird er, ein wichtiger formaler Gesichtspunkt, in die jeweiligen syntaktischen Zusammenhänge eingepasst. Textparaphrasen sind häufig. Das „genaue“ Zitat passt umgekehrt den umgebenden Satz dem Zitat an, um den Wortlaut nicht ändern zu müssen. In diesem Sinn werde aber erst allmählich bei den Autoren des späten 2. Jh. zitiert. Das ist eine zugespitzte These, die das Problem eines für unser Verständnis freien Umganges mit Texten deutlich in den Blick nimmt. Natürlich stellt sich der Sachverhalt für alttestamentliche Zitate in den Evangelien etwas anders dar, wie die hochreflektierten und oft sehr genauen Zitate im Matthäusevangelium zeigen, 14 aber man darf einen solchen Umgang mit Zitaten eben nicht für unsere gesamte Evangelienüberlieferung ansetzen. Es folgt daraus, dass wir nicht zu leichtfertig für Q voraussetzen dürfen, was an Modalitäten der Intertextualität für die kanonischen Evangelien in ihrer Endform gilt. Überhaupt geht es weniger um den freien Charakter der sehr wenigen Stellen, die überhaupt als Zitate in Frage kommen, sondern eher um positive Beobachtungen, wie in anderen Modi als dem des Zitats auf die epische Tradition Israels Bezug genommen wird. Immerhin ist eine erste und zentrale Beobachtung zum Schriftbezug in Q, dass dieser insgesamt ganz erstaunlich im Hintergrund steht und der größte Teil der Logien überhaupt ohne jede deutliche Schriftreferenz aus12

B. ALAND, Die Rezeption des neutestamentlichen Textes in den ersten Jahrhunderten, in: J.-M. Sevrin (Hg.), The New Testament in Early Christianity: la réception des écrits néotestamentaires dans le christianisme primitif (BEThL 86), Leuven: Leuven University Press 1989, S. 1-38. 13 ALAND, Die Rezeption des neutestamentlichen Textes (s. Anm. 12), S. 1 unter Hinweis besonders auf 1 Clem 42,1-4. 14 Vgl. M. J. J. MENKEN, Matthew’s Bible: The Old Testament Text of the Evangelist (BEThL 173), Leuven: Leuven University Press/Peeters 2004.

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kommt. Dieser auf der Hand liegende Sachverhalt ist noch lange nicht hinreichend gewürdigt. Q argumentiert eher mit einem „common sense“, damit, was jedem Menschen guten Willens doch einleuchten müsste. Man mag das in gewissem Sinn naturrechtlich nennen, wenn dieser Begriff nicht für unseren Kontext philosophisch überfrachtet wäre. So heißt es etwa in der Begründung der Feindesliebe Q 6,27.28.35c-d: „Liebt eure Feinde und betet für die, die Euch verfolgen, damit ihr Söhne eures Vaters werdet, denn er lässt seine Sonne aufgehen über Schlechte und Gute, und er lässt regnen über Gerechte und Ungerechte“. Ein Thorabezug wird nicht hergestellt. In einem weiten Sinn des Wortes naturrechtlich argumentieren auch das Logion vom blinden Blindenführer (Q 6,39) und vom Splitter und Balken (Q 6,41f.), überhaupt viele Gleichnisse und Bildworte, etwa das vom Baum und seiner Frucht (Q 6,43-45): ein schlechter Baum kann eben keine guten Früchte bringen. Das Naturbild illustriert nicht etwa, sondern argumentiert, es schafft Plausibilität, wo auch ein Schriftbeweis möglich gewesen wäre, wenn die Q-Tradition primär in der Kategorie einer solchen legitimierenden Textreferenz denken würde. Angrenzende Beobachtungen beziehen sich auf die Halacha in Q. Verschiedene Logien in Q sind ja mit Recht als Analoga zu halachischen Regeln qualifiziert worden, und die Bedeutung der Halacha für unser Verständnis Jesu ist überhaupt immer deutlicher geworden.15 Dazu gehören 15 Grundlegend in diesem Sinn J. P. MEIER, A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus: 4. Law and Love (ABRL), New York, N.Y.: Doubleday 2009, z.B.: „No halakic Jesus, no historical Jesus.… The patient reader of Volume Four of A Marginal Jew may at this juncture be sick unto death of the mantra ,the historical Jesus is the halakic Jesus‘.… The halakic dimension of the historical Jesus is never exciting but always essential“ (S. 648f.). Etwas weiter schreibt er: „Surprisingly, this lack of an explicit rationale of his positions extends even to the citation of Scripture. The historical Jesus rarely, if ever, directly quotes Scripture passages as the basis or rationale of his moral teaching. In the double command of love, Deut 6:4-5 and Lev 19:18b constitute the very content of the command, not the basis or rationale on which the command rests or from which it flows. Elsewhere, Jesus alludes at times to Scripture passages, but does not usually quote them explicitly in his halakic argumentation“ (S. 655, vgl. 658f. zur scheinbaren Ausnahme Mk 10,2-8). Meier bezieht diese Souveränität gegenüber der Thora auf einen prophetischen, an der Figur des Elias redivivus orientierten Anspruch des historischen Jesus. Ich habe andernorts darauf hingewiesen, dass dieser Zug tatsächlich für die realen Messiasfiguren (also nicht die messianischen Theorien) des Judentums typisch ist: M. FRENSCHKOWSKI, Jesus, ein jüdischer Messias: Religionswissenschaftliche Bemerkungen zum millenaristischen und messianischen Referenzrahmen der Jesusbewegung, in: F. Schweitzer (Hg.), Kommunikation über Grenzen: Kongressband des XIII. Europäischen Kongresses für Theologie, 21.–25. September 2008 in Wien (Veröffentlichungen der Wissenschaftlichen Gesellschaft für Theologie 33), Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2009, S. 409-429. Vgl. zum Fragehorizont auch DERS ., Das frühe Christentum als Neue Religiöse Bewegung: Neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Erforschung Neuer Religiöser Bewegungen im Gespräch, in: O.

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der Verzicht auf das eigene Recht (Q 6,29.30; mit Mt 5,41, gemeinhin Q zugeschrieben), die Aufforderung zur außergerichtlichen Einigung (Q 12,58f.), vor allem aber das Wort von der Ehescheidung (Q 16,18), aber auch das Logion vom Bekennen und Verleugnen (Q 12,8f.) und ähnliches (das interessante Schwurverbot Mt 5,33-37 stand dagegen offenbar nicht in Q). Öfter begegnen uns auch eschatologische Begründungen ethischer Anweisungen, die etwa durch das Passivum Divinum und seine inhärierende Sachlogik ausgedrückt werden, wie im Wort vom Nichtrichten Q 6,37f. (vgl. Q 11,9-13): „Richtet nicht, damit ihr nicht gerichtet werdet, denn mit dem Urteil, mit dem ihr richtet, werdet ihr gerichtet werden, und mit dem Maß, mit dem ihr zumesst, wird euch zugemessen werden.“ 16 Gewiss finden auch solche Stellen Parallelen im Judentum: aber mit der schriftbezogenen rabbinischen Halacha haben sie formal doch kaum Ähnlichkeiten. Die Redeweise von einer „Jesus-Halacha“ (etwa in Hinsicht auf Worte wie das Verbot der Ehescheidung Q 16,18) steht in Gefahr, den tiefen Graben zu verschleiern, den dieser kurze Doppelspruch von jeglicher antiker jüdischer Halacha eben doch auch trennt. Er tritt völlig isoliert auf und begründet sich selbst durch keine andere Autorität als die des Sprechers, Jesus. Man gewinnt sogar den Eindruck, dass auf der Ebene der Komposition der Sprüche dieses Wort sozusagen exemplarisch für den νόµος steht, von dem kein Häkchen vergehen soll, und von dem direkt davor die Rede ist (Q 16,17). Die unvergängliche Thora wäre dann vielleicht eher die messianische Jesusthora, wie es später das Matthäusevangelium entfaltet, nicht mehr die halachisch interpretierte Thora des Pentateuch. In Wahrheit ist der Sachverhalt allerdings wohl doch komplizierter, weil der Begriff νόµος in seinen Bedeutungen changiert; wir vertiefen das hier nicht. Wichtig bleibt der fehlende Schriftbezug an Stellen, wo er in antiker jüdischer religiöser Literatur mehrheitlich zu erwarten wäre. Auch die Missionsinstruktion in Q 10 hat nur weit im Hintergrund stehende und kaum sichtbare Schriftbezüge (Q 10,4 hat man mit 2 Kön 4,29 verglichen, Elisas Auftragswort an Gehasi, das aber doch völlig anders gelagert ist). Noch erstaunlicher ist, dass das Vaterunser eines der wenigen altjüdischen Gebete ist, das sich nicht aus der Sprach- und Formenwelt der Psalmen nährt. Die formale und semantische Eigenständigkeit des Vaterunsers ist trotz seiner begrenzten Ähnlichkeit mit dem Qaddish bemerkenswert. Nur die variablen und textlich sekundären Doxologien haben auf der Hand liegende AT-Prätexte. Wischmeyer (Hg.), Herkunft und Zukunft der neutestamentlichen Wissenschaft (Neutestamentliche Entwürfe zur Theologie 6), Tübingen: Francke 2003, S. 131-164. 16 Ich zitiere (mit minimalen Änderungen) die Übersetzung von P. HOFFMANN/C. H EIL (Hgg.), Die Spruchquelle Q: Studienausgabe, 3. Aufl., Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft/Leuven: Peeters 2009.

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Ein überaus auffälliger Zug ist auch in den nachfolgeethischen Passagen der fehlende Rekurs auf Thora oder überhaupt irgendeine Form von Schrift. Das ist umso erstaunlicher, als Q 16,17 – soeben bereits in den Blick genommen – die unverbrüchliche Gültigkeit der Thora behauptet wird: kein Buchstabe am Gesetz werde vergehen. Ich halte das für einen der spätesten Verse in der Traditions- und wohl auch Redaktionsgeschichte von Q (so auch John Kloppenborg),17 in dem sich eine zunehmende nomistische Verschärfung der Jerusalemer Christen spiegelt.18 Aber wie auch immer das zu beurteilen sein mag, der Vers passt nicht zu einer radikalen Jüngerschafts- und Nachfolgeethik, die offenbar vollständig ohne Thorabezug auskommt. Für den Argumentationszusammenhang dieses Beitrages ist das weitgehende Fehlen eines Schriftbezuges in den Argumentationsstrukturen von Q aber nur ein erster Schritt zu dem, was es hier eigentlich zu beobachten gilt. Im Kontext jüdischer Schriftgelehrsamkeit hätte eine solche Ethik geradezu skandalös wirken müssen. Das kann nicht deutlich genug gesagt werden. Zwar existieren in der jüdischen Weisheit und auch in der Apokalyptik Texte, in denen die Thora ebenfalls nur eine geringe Rolle spielt (an das äthiopisches Henochbuch wird man denken, dessen Henochfigur vielleicht als eine Art protologischer Konkurrenz zu Mose aufgebaut wird).19 Aber diese Fälle sind doch anders gelagert. Es genügt auch nicht ein pauschaler Hinweis auf den weisheitlichen Charakter vieler Q-Traditionen. Q entfaltet eine Theologie, die ethisch argumentiert, ohne dass ihre primäre Referenzgröße die Thora wäre, auch wenn in einem einzelnen späten Vers das Gegenteil behauptet wird. Das wirklich Erstaunliche ist aber gar nicht einmal das Fehlen von Schriftbezügen an Stellen, wo man sie in 17 Vgl. J. S. K LOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q: The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press/Edinburgh: T & T Clark 2000, S. 152f., in Zusammenfassung seiner älteren Diskussionen der Frage. Anders z.B. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary [s. Anm. 4], S. 790f., der aber hier m.E. die Spannungen des Textes zu gering einstuft. 18 Vgl. M. FRENSCHKOWSKI, Galiläa oder Jerusalem? Die topographischen und politischen Hintergründe der Logienquelle, in: Lindemann (Hg.), The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus (s. Anm. 9), S. 535-559. 19 Vgl. etwa A. BEDENBENDER , Der Gott der Welt tritt auf den Sinai: Entstehung, Entwicklung und Funktionsweise der frühjüdischen Apokalyptik (ANTZ 8), Berlin: Institut Kirche und Judentum 2000. Nach dieser Studie (S. 207. 243f. 264) hätten sich primär an Henoch orientierte Gruppen und die Tradenten der mosaischen Thora sekundär zusammengetan, um die Krise der vormakkabäischen Verfolgung zu bewältigen; dieser Prozess spiegle sich noch in Hen(aeth). Dazu s. meine Rezension: ThRv 99 (2003), S. 284-286. Über Thorakritik im antiken Judentum s. jetzt I. POLLMANN, Gesetzeskritische Motive im Judentum und die Gesetzeskritik des Paulus (NTOA 98), Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 2012; auch H. RÄISÄNEN, The Rise of Christian Beliefs: The Thought World of Early Christians, Minneapolis, Minn: Fortress Press 2010, S. 251f.

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jüdischen Zusammenhängen unbedingt erwarten würde. Das wirklich Erklärungsbedürftige ist die Art der Bezugnahme auf alttestamentliche Figuren. Damit kommen wir zu unserer wichtigsten These. Wieder lassen wir einige Texte Revue passieren. Abraham ist im Streitgespräch zwischen Johannes dem Täufer und den Volksmengen Q 3,7-9 zwar Vater des Volkes, aber auf beiden Seiten des Streitgesprächs wird ein populäres Abrahambild evoziert, ohne dass ein schriftgelehrter Bezug auf einen identifizierbaren Text hergestellt wird. Der hier genannte Abraham ist der Vorvater des Volkes, wie man ihn seit Kindheit kennt: Er ist nicht in erkennbarer Weise eine Figur aus einem Text. Überraschend ähnlich in dem ganz anders gelagerten Jesuslogion Q 13,28, in dem es um die Völkerwallfahrt, aber nun nicht zum Zion, sondern zur Tischgemeinschaft mit den Patriarchen geht. Das gleiche gilt mutatis mutandis ebd. von Isaak und Jakob (in Q 13,28): „Und viele werden von Osten und Westen kommen und sich zum Mahl niederlegen mit Abraham und Isaak und Jakob im Königreich Gottes, ihr aber werdet in die äußerste Finsternis hinausgeworfen werden“ usw. Die Erzväter sind in diesem apokalyptischen Gerichtswort Gestalten volkstümlicher Imagination, die noch im Eschaton die Identität des Volkes definieren und offenbar als Tischherren beim eschatologischen Mahl auftreten (ein vermutlich volksnahes Bild für die Weltvollendung). Man beachte, wie völlig anders Paulus oder der Jakobusbrief oder auch der Hebräerbrief von Abraham sprechen, nämlich immer im Rahmen klar identifizierbarer Textbezüge. Davon kann hier gerade keine Rede sein: auf Abraham und Isaak und Jakob als Herren eines eschatologischen Mahls kann man aus der hebräischen Bibel nicht kommen, so wenig Jesus das Bild erfunden haben wird.20 M.E. entspricht es einfach einem populären eschatologischen Szenario, wie es Jesus und später die Logienquelle voraussetzen und für ihre Aussageabsichten akzentuieren. Etwas anders gelagert ist die Bezugnahme auf Lot in Q 17,28-29, der hier für eine Referenz auf den Untergang Sodoms steht; die Zugehörigkeit der Verse zu Q ist nicht gesichert. Auch Q 10,12 wird die Geschichte von Sodom und das Geschick dieser sagenhaften Stadt als Referenzgröße verwendet, ohne dass ein Textbezug notwendig wäre. Man fühlt sich an das berühmte Graffitti aus Pompeji „Sodom(a) Gomora“ erinnert, das ja offenbar unter dem unmittelbaren Eindruck des Vulkanausbruchs 79 n. Chr. entstand,21 und von dem wir nicht wissen, ob es von einem Juden, Christen 20

ALLISON, The Intertextual Jesus (s. Anm. 4), S. 166-169 verweist auf Ps 107,3, wo zwar vom Kommen aus den vier Himmelsrichtungen, aber eben gerade nicht von den Patriarchen die Rede ist. 21 D. N OY, Jewish Inscriptions of Western Europe: 1. Italy (excluding the City of Rome), Spain and Gaul, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1993, Nr. 38 (= CIJ I

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oder Heiden an die Wand geschrieben wurde. Sodom, Gomorrha, Lot sind einfach exemplarische Größen für einen als Gericht hereinbrechenden Untergang. Ein solches Untergangsszenario kann evoziert werden, wie heute jemand vom Untergang von Atlantis sprechen mag, ohne je ein einziges Wort aus Platons Kritias gelesen zu haben oder auch nur von diesem als Prätext zu wissen. Besonders deutlich ist dieser nichtliterarische Traditionsbezug in Hinsicht auf die βασίλισσα νότου „Königin des Südlandes“ (Q 11,31). Nicht ein Text wird evoziert, sondern die Figur einer bekannten märchenhaften Geschichte. „Die Königin des Südens wird beim Gericht zusammen mit dieser Generation auferweckt werden, und sie wird sie verurteilen; denn sie ist von den Enden der Erde gekommen, um die Weisheit Salomos22 zu hören, und siehe, mehr als Salomo ist hier“ (Q 11,31). In 1 Kön 10,1. 4.10.13 und 1 Chr 9,1.3.9.12 heißt sie MLKT-SBˀ, βασίλισσα Σαβά, nicht aber Königin des Südens (βασίλισσα νότου sonst nur TestSal 19,3; 21,1 [ed. McCown], vielleicht unter NT-Einfluss23). Sie wandelt sich schon mit dieser nicht aus der Schrift erklärbaren Begriffsverschiebung aus der Beherrscherin eines spezifischen Landes zu einer sagenhaften Gestalt im fernen Süden. Νότος steht ohne Artikel, ist also Eigenname, wie das arabische Jaman „rechts gelegen“ = Süden (wenn man die aufgehende Sonne anvisiert), für das es hier faktisch eintritt, wie einst schon Wellhausen ganz richtig sah.24 Es sind die Himmelsrichtungen, nicht die realen geographischen Gegebenheiten, die ihren halbmythischen Ort bestimmen. Salomo, der in all seiner Pracht doch nicht gekleidet war wie die Lilien auf dem Felde (Q 12,27), eine Art israelitischer König Arthur, ist ganz Märchenkönig, wie später in der jüdischen und arabischen Salomosage. Was von ihm in den Blick tritt, sind eben seine Pracht und Weisheit, wie man von ihm später in Tausendundeiner Nacht und in jüdischen Geschichten erzählen mochte. Auch ist keine primär durch die Komplexibilität der 567), der an Abfassung durch einen Juden denkt („would most naturally be written at the time of the eruption of Vesuvius“). 22 Die Formulierung σοφία Σολοµῶνος entspricht keiner alttestamentlichen Vorgabe präzise, ähnelt aber am stärksten 2 Chr 9,3 in der griechischen Fassung (und dem Titel von Sapientia Salomonis, der als Prätext jedoch wohl fernbleibt). Vgl. A LLISON, The Intertextual Jesus (s. Anm. 4), S. 148f. 23 So P. BUSCH, Das Testament Salomos: Die älteste christliche Dämonologie kommentiert und in deutscher Erstübersetzung (TU 153), Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 2006, S. 245. Die spätere jüdische Identifikation der Figur mit Lilith ist in Q offensichtlich noch unbekannt. Zur späteren Geschichte der Figur s. jetzt G. FIACCADORI u.a., Makədda, in: S. Uhlig u.a. (Hgg.), Encyclopaedia Aethiopica, 4 Bde. bisher erschienen, Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz 2003–, S. 3:672-681. 24 J. WELLHAUSEN, Einleitung in die drei ersten Evangelien, 2. Aufl., Berlin: G. Reimer 1911, S. 11. Nachdruck in: DERS., Evangelienkommentare, Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 1987.

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alttestamentlichen Texte definierte Figur, sondern der Salomo der populären Sage. Ähnliches gilt für Abel (Q 11,51), Noah (Q 17,26f.), Jona (Q 11,29f.32) oder Zecharja (Q 11,51), dessen Identität umstritten ist. Dabei ist auch die Auswahl der Figuren erklärungsbedürftig. Weder Mose noch David werden genannt, wie auch John Kloppenborg aufgefallen ist.25 Salomo tritt eher als Weiser und Märchenkönig in den Blick denn als Herrscher Jerusalems. Überhaupt wird Jerusalem ja doch offenbar eher kritisch gesehen (Q 13,34f.), wie Jonathan Reed, John Kloppenborg und andere vielfach mit Recht hervorgehoben haben.26 Die Propheten dagegen begegnen mehrfach als Gruppe (Q 6,22f.; 11,49-51; 13,34f.). Welche Figuren und Geschichten aus dem AT setzt Q als bei seinen Hörerinnen und Hörern allseits bekannt voraus? Es sind einprägsame, schlichte, markante, farbige Geschichten und Figuren. Es ist sozusagen der Kindergottesdienststoff, um den Sachverhalt anachronistisch zu formulieren. Es sind nicht unbedingt die Figuren, für die sich ein Schriftgelehrter interessiert hätte (David, Mose, Jesaja), sondern diejenigen, die in der lebendigen religiösen Erzählkultur, im Haus, am Abend auf dem Dorfplatz eine Rolle gespielt haben werden. In diesen Bezugnahmen spiegelt sich weiter ein spezifisches, nämlich ein kaum entfaltetes und sozusagen vorhistorisches Zeitverständnis. „In den Tagen des Noah“ steht versus die bevorstehenden Tage des Eschatons: καθὼς ἐγένετο ἐν ταῖς ἡµέραις Νῶε, οὕτως ἔσται καὶ ἐν τῇ ἡµέρᾳ τοῦ υἱοῦ τοῦ ἀνθρώπου (Q 17,26). Beide Zeiten treten als direkt vergleichbare Größen nebeneinander. Ihr zeitlicher Abstand schwindet zusammen. Was damals galt: das plötzliche Hereinbrechen der Katastrophe, das wird auch in Kürze gelten, wenn der Menschensohn als Weltrichter ankommen wird. Es artikuliert sich kein historisches Bewusstsein, sondern ein mythischmärchenhaftes, in dem die Figuren farbig nebeneinander stehen. Eine polare Zeitstruktur wird auch Q 11,49-51 erkennbar. Die Zeit Abels steht der Zeit dieser Generation mit ihrer Ermordung des Zacharias polar gegenüber. Der strukturierende Gegensatz ἀπὸ καταβολῆς κόσµου und ἀπὸ τῆς γενεᾶς ταύτης – also eine uranfängliche Zeit vs. die eigene Gegenwart des Predigers – macht die auch aus anderen Gründen unwahrscheinliche Identifikation des Zacharias aus Q 11,51 mit dem Propheten aus 2 Chr 24,1725 nicht nur unwahrscheinlich, sondern sachlich unmöglich. Das Argument des Logions würde ja mit einem Bezug auf einen Propheten der lange

25

KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (s. Anm. 17), S. 203. KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (s. Anm. 17), S. 206; J. L. REED, Archaeology and the Galilean Jesus: A Re-examination of the Evidence, Harrisburg, Penn.: Trinity Press International 2000, S. 186-188. 209f. 26

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vorexilischen Zeit ad absurdum geführt.27 Der Parallelismus des Logions heißt ja doch vielmehr Abel – ἀπὸ καταβολῆς κόσµου und Zacharias – ἀπὸ τῆς γενεᾶς ταύτης. Zacharias ist also notwendig eine Figur der Gegenwart, auch wenn er in der Rezeption des Wortes rasch anders verstanden wurde. (Schon Mt 23,35 hat nicht gewusst, wer gemeint gewesen ist, und hat daher sachlich unsinnig mit dem Sohn des Berechja, also dem Propheten Sacharja nach Sach 1,1 identifiziert). Die Frage kann an dieser Stelle nicht diskutiert werden, weil es im vorliegenden Kontext nur um das unhistorische, im Grunde mythische Verhältnis zu Zeit und Geschichte in der Logienquelle geht. Wir können als vorsichtige Vermutung die These formulieren, dass im Grunde jedes Gefühl für Zeitabstände, für Jahreszahlen, für Epochen, für kleine und große Distanz in Sachen Zeit fehlt. Die Figuren der epischen Geschichte Israels treten als bunte Gestalten nebeneinander wie die Heiligen eines Kirchenfensters, und so begegnen sie der Gegenwart. Sie sind nicht Figuren in einem Nacheinander, sondern in einem sagenhaft-mythischen Nebeneinander, das sich von der Gegenwart nur unterscheidet, indem es eben in eine mythisch-epische Vergangenheit entrückt ist. Das trifft sich mit der häufigen Beobachtung, dass für Q die Zeit Jesu und die Zeit der Q-Verkündiger in vielen Aspekten zusammenzufallen scheinen, und beide eschatologisch qualifiziert werden, also ohne anvisierte längere zukünftige Geschichte auf das Kommen des Menschensohns hinführen.28 27

Einer Diskussion an anderer Stelle muss die sachlich unzutreffende Behauptung vorbehalten bleiben, 2 Chr sei im 1. Jh. als „letztes Buch“ des Kanons gelesen worden, und Zacharias sei daher der „letzte im Kanon genannte Prophet“. Abgesehen davon, dass es in der Ära der Buchrollen kein „letztes Buch des Kanons“ geben kann (eine solche anachronistische Bezeichnung macht erst in der Zeit der alle Bücher des Kanons zusammenfassenden Großcodices des 4. Jh. überhaupt Sinn), beenden weder die alten Kanonlisten noch die älteren Handschriften der Graeca oder der Hebraica den Kanon mehrheitlich mit 2 Chr; die späte Stelle bBB 14b bietet nur eine Reihenfolge unter diversen möglichen und ebenfalls gut bezeugten Sequenzen. Die Reihenfolge ist vielmehr bis ins Mittelalter durchaus flexibel, und oft völlig anders als in der genannten Baraita, auf der diese schier unausrottbare, auch den späteren Handschriften widersprechende Theorie beruht. Dazu andernorts ausführlich. Vgl. vorläufig P. BRANDT, Endgestalten des Kanons: Das Arrangement der Schriften Israels in der jüdischen und christlichen Bibel (BBB 131), Berlin: Philo 2001, der gerade diese große Flexibilität der „Arrangements“ gut herausarbeitet. Etwas subtiler will Labahn in Abel und Zacharias „den zeitlich frühesten und den zeitlich jüngsten Mord des biblischen Erzählkreises“ (LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender [s. Anm. 8], S. 423) sehen. Aber es werden in der hebräischen Bibel doch zahlreiche Morde berichtet, die lange nach dem Propheten in 2 Chr 24 (um 800 v. Chr.) anzusetzen sind. 28 Vgl. hierzu und überhaupt zum Zeitverständnis in Q LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (s. Anm. 8), S. 191-242, besonders 239f. Vgl. auch S. 241: „Gegenzeit zu Zeitkonzepten der Umwelt“, „bipolares Zeitverständnis“ (Gegenwart und Eschaton).

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Besonderes Interesse hat immer die Erwähnung des Propheten Jona gefunden (Q 11,29.30.32). Dabei geht es nicht nur um die Frage, was mit dem Jonazeichen gemeint ist, dessen inhaltliche Füllung sich in Q, in den Evangelien und vielleicht im Munde Jesu durchaus unterschieden haben dürfte, sondern die schlichte Tatsache einer so hervorgehobenen zweifachen (bzw. dreifachen) Bezugnahme auf diese im AT eher periphere Prophetengestalt. Darin hat man gerne einen besonderen „lokalpatriotischen“ Galiläabezug der Q-Tradition sehen wollen.29 „Als einziges galiläisches Prophetengrab muß das Jonagrab für die galiläische Judenschaft ganz besondere Bedeutung besessen haben.“30 Jona ist ein spezifisch nordisraelitischer Prophet. Es ist ja doch zweifellos jener Jona Ben Amittai gemeint, der nach 2 Kön 14,25 die Wiederherstellung der alten Nordgrenze Israels durch König Jerobeam II. (etwa 781–742 v. Chr.) vorhergesagt hatte. Die Epoche Jonas ist also während der Regierungszeit Jerobeams II. anzusetzen, der im fünfzehnten Regierungsjahr Amazjas als König von Juda seinerseits König von Israel wurde. Als seine Heimat wird der Ort Gat-Hefer in Galiläa (2 Kön 14,25) angegeben, 5 km nordöstlich von Nazareth, falls mit Chirbet ez-Zarrah identisch (die Septuaginta lässt jedoch nur seinen Vater aus diesem Ort stammen). Die Vitae Prophetarum kennen dagegen einen Ort Kariathmaus bei Azotos als Geburtsort.31 Es besteht ein Zusammenhang mit dem antiken Azotos paralios, hebräisch Aschdod Jam, den Hafenteil von Aschdod, der wichtigsten Stadt der alten philistäischen Pentapolis. Hieronymus dagegen kennt Gat bei Lydda als Heimat des Propheten. An beiden Orten habe man ein Grab des Propheten verehrt (comment. in Iona, prol.; CChr.SL 76, S. 378, 18-28 bzw. SC 323, S. 162, 37-164, 51), wobei das galiläische wohl von Juden, das in der Küstenebene gelegene (von dem die jüdische Literatur schweigt) von Christen verehrt worden sei.32 Nach Vitae Prophetarum ist er im Grab eines edomitischen Patriarchen Kenaz bestattet, womit das 6 km nördlich von Hebron gelegene Jonaheiligtum gemeint ist, welches also eine judäische 29 Wieder nennen wir exemplarisch für diese These nur KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (s. Anm. 17), S. 206 und J. L. REED, The Sign of Jonah (Q 11:29-32) and Other Epic Traditions in Q, in: E. A. Castelli/H. Taussig (Hgg.), Reimagining Christian Origins: A Colloquium Honoring Burton L. Mack, Valley Forge, Pa.: Trinity Press International 1996, S. 130-143, bes. S. 137-139. 30 J. J EREMIAS, Heiligengräber in Jesu Umwelt (Mt. 23,29; Lk 11,47): Eine Untersuchung zur Volksreligion der Zeit Jesu, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1958, S. 28. 31 Ausführliche Diskussion bei A. M. SCHWEMER, Studien zu den frühjüdischen Prophetenlegenden Vitae Prophetarum: Einleitung, Übersetzung und Kommentar (TSAJ 49/50), 2 Bde., Tübingen: Mohr Siebek 1995–1996, S. 2:53-60. 32 Vgl. J. J EREMIAS, Heiligengräber (s. Anm. 30), S. 24f. Dort S. 24-28 auch zur weiteren Geschichte des galiläischen Jonaheiligtums.

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Konkurrenztradition zur galiläischen darstellt.33 Ein anderes Jonagrab befindet sich in Nabi Yunus im Iraq (beim alten Ninive), wo in der Moschee auch Knochen des Wals gezeigt werden, aus dem er angeblich freikam, und es existieren noch weitere Traditionen. Der ganze Überlieferungskomplex ist wenig durchsichtig, und verschiedene Lokaltraditionen haben offenbar konkurriert. Zwar ist die Bindung Jonas an Galiläa plausibel, aber vielleicht nicht ganz so intensiv, wie in der Q-Forschung gerne angenommen wird. Nach der Jona-Vita in den Vitae prophetarum (c. 16 ed. Scherman; der Text existiert in mehreren Fassungen) spricht Jona auch ein Orakel gegen Jerusalem (von dem das biblische Buch Jona nichts weiß). Der Q-Bezug könnte daher auch in den Kontext der Jerusalem-Kritik gehören: der Galiläa-Bezug wäre dann wohl weniger gewichtig, zumal Get Hefer im 1. Jh. nicht mehr als aktueller Ortsname bezeugt ist. 34 Die JonaNovelle hat natürlich auch andere jüdische Menschen bewegt: man denke an die unter Philons Namen überlieferte armenische Predigt über das Jonabuch (Übers. Folker Siegert), die vielleicht auf das 1. Jh. zurückgeht. Sie stammt von einem jüdischen Prediger mit rhetorischer, aber ohne tiefere philosophische Bildung (das erinnert an Paulus), also sicher nicht von Philon. Die wenigen philosophischen Anspielungen des Textes sind allerdings stoisch, nicht platonisch, was gegen eine spätere zeitliche Ansetzung der Predigt spricht.35 Wir erwähnen sie hier exemplarisch für eine stärker textbezogene Jona-Referenz. In unserem Q-Traditum mit seinem Jonazeichen wird deutlich nur die Jonagestalt als Stoff volkstümlicher Erzählung vorausgesetzt, nicht etwa das biblische Jonabuch. Um die Andeutungen zu verstehen, muss man nur die Geschichte, die „story“ kennen, nicht das Buch. Man hat in der Bezugnahme auf solche Figuren wie Jona oder Noah gerne ein Indiz für eine „little tradition“ des Volkes im Unterschied zur „great tradition“ der Oberschicht und ihrer Literatur gesehen. „The two are interdependent but distinguished by the social level and social interests of their purveyors. The great tradition, systematized, rationalized, legitimized, and rendered in epic form, is the domain of the privileged: scribes, scholars, and theologians – that is, the retainers of the ruling elite. The little tradition is local, unsystematic, and mainly oral.“36 Beide Traditionssysteme existieren natürlich nicht separat, sondern in mannigfacher Bezogenheit. Damit ist etwas Wichtiges gesagt, aber vielleicht können wir noch weiter gehen und konkretisieren. 33

Vgl. J. J EREMIAS, Heiligengräber (s. Anm. 30), S. 88-90 zum judäischen Jonagrab. Vgl. KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (s. Anm. 17), S. 206. 35 F. SIEGERT, Drei hellenistisch-jüdische Predigten (WUNT 20/61), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 1980–1992, S. 1:9-50. 36 KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (s. Anm. 17), S. 206. 34

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Dazu müssen wir weitere Aspekte des Traditionsbezugs in Q in den Blick nehmen. Q 10,23f. sind Könige und Propheten sozusagen das Rückgrat der Geschichte Israels. „Viele Propheten und Könige wünschten zu sehen, was ihr seht, und sahen es nicht, und zu hören, was ihr hört, und hörten es nicht“. In diesen beiden Sukzessionen, der Sukzession der Könige und derjenigen der Propheten, findet die Heilsgeschichte Israels ihren roten Faden. Das ist bemerkenswert, weil es in dieser Konzentration keine wirkliche Analogie hat. Für Josephus nimmt bekanntlich die Sukzession der Hohenpriester die gleiche Funktion ein (Ant 20,224-251): sie bildet den Leitfaden der Geschichte Israels. Mit ihr beendet er seine Jüdischen Altertümer. Für die Rabbinen ist die Sukzession der Propheten lange vorbei, und die Schriftgelehrten nehmen ihren Platz ein. Das entspricht der Matthäusfassung von Q 11,49: διὰ τοῦτο ἰδοὺ ἐγὼ ἀποστέλλω πρὸς ὑµᾶς προφήτας καὶ σοφοὺς καὶ γραµµατεῖς: ἐξ αὐτῶν ἀποκτενεῖτε καὶ σταυρώσετε, καὶ ἐξ αὐτῶν µαστιγώσετε ἐν ταῖς συναγωγαῖς ὑµῶν καὶ διώξετε ἀπὸ πόλεως εἰς πόλιν (…) (Mt 23,34). Damit ist im Wesentlichen bereits das Geschichtsbild des späteren rabbinischen Judentums evoziert, klassisch ausgedrückt in mAboth 1, bBB 12a, Schem. R. 28,6 und an anderen Stellen. Auf Mose folgen die Propheten in ununterbrochener Sukzession, auf diese nach Esra die Chachamim, die Weisen, etwa die Männer der sogenannten „großen Versammlung“, auf diese die Rabbinen, die in der direkten Nachfolge dieser und damit letztlich des Mose selbst stehen. Die Mt-Fassung von Q 11,49 ist also eine Legitimationsdiadoche der Schriftgelehrten. Im Munde Jesu oder auch nur in Q ist das schwer vorstellbar, andererseits wird hier ja offenbar ein nichtchristlicher Text zitiert, eine Sophiarede, die erst sekundär Jesus in den Mund gelegt ist (und die Lk daher christianisierend bearbeitet haben könnte).37 Wie das auch immer gewesen sein mag, auch dieses Geschichtsbild denkt von Propheten und Weisen her und zielt auf die Schriftgelehrten. Anders die Logienquelle selbst. Inbegriff der Geschichte Israels sind ihr „Propheten und Könige“ (Q 10,24).38 Hier spricht keine etablierte priesterliche Theologie wie bei Jose-

37 Damit könnte der Verweis auf Zacharias Q 11,51 einen Bezug außerhalb der Jesusbewegung und ihres religiösen Referenzsystems besitzen. Die Forschung hat immer einmal wieder an den von Zeloten ermordeten Ζαχαρίας υἱὸς Βάρεις aus Josephus Bell 4,335-343 gedacht (schon WELLHAUSEN, Einleitung in die drei ersten Evangelien [s. Anm. 24], S. 118-123), was nicht völlig zu befriedigen vermag, aber noch die beste Lösung bleibt. Für Christen war dieser Bezug der Sophiarede offenbar bald unverständlich. Zur Auslegungsgeschichte s. außer den Kommentaren J. L. N ORTH, Reactions in Early Christianity to Some References to the Hebrew Prophets in Matthew’s Gospel, NTS 54 (2008), S. 254-274, hier 258-263. 38 Vgl. H.-F. WEIß , Propheten – Weise – Schriftgelehrte. Zur Kategorie des „Prophetischen“ im nachexilischen Judentum, in: J. C. de Vos/F. Sieger (Hgg.), Interesse am

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phus und keine schriftgelehrte wie bei den Rabbinen: m.E. ist es, was man im Volk von seiner großen Geschichte erzählte. Die Linie der Könige wird in Israel nicht in Dynastiefolgen gefasst wie bei Manethon die ägyptische Geschichte oder in den griechischen Städten jeweils deren frühe Geschichte, sondern als Ganzheit – ein volkstümlicher, sehr schlichter Blick auf Israels Vergangenheit: so haben Väter in Nazareth ihren Söhnen von den großen Taten der Ahnen erzählt. Das ist nicht beweisbar, scheint mir aber plausibel. Damit zeichnet sich noch nicht zwingend ein Gegenmodell zu der These ab, Q verdanke seine Existenz einer dörflichen „Schreiberelite“: diese hat ja offenbar auch nur in sehr variablem Umfang an theologischer Schriftgelehrsamkeit partizipiert. Diese u. a. von John Kloppenborg aufgebrachte These ist ausführlich von William Arnal begründet worden, der dabei auch das begrenzte Bildungsniveau der Kompilatoren von Q (er folgt dem Schichtenmodell Kloppenborgs) sieht: „Alongside extended historical writings, developed biographies, or apocalypses, Q can appear rather disorganized, simplistic, or primitive. We are thus dealing, in the case of the Q tradents, with persons who are educated and who think of themselves as – and are – learned beyond the ancient norm, but who, at the same time, do not occupy the pinnacle of the learning antiquity had to offer.“39 Das ist sicher zutreffend, aber sehr allgemein und unspezifisch. Es ist zusammenzusehen mit den Eigentümlichkeiten des Schriftbezugs, die wir benannt haben, und mit den auffälligen sprachlichen Idiosynkrasien der Logienquelle.40 Wir kommen jetzt zu unserem zweiten Argumentationsschritt. Wie kann Heilige Schrift überhaupt jeweils nicht nur in Texten, sondern eben auch in Erzählkulturen und religiösen Lebenswelten präsent sein? Meine Absicht ist nun keine vollständige Typologie – dazu bietet mein Buch über die Heiligen Schriften der Weltreligionen einiges weitere Material41 – wohl aber eine pragmatische, an den beobachtbaren Realien orientierte Sichtung Judentum: Die Franz-Delitzsch-Vorlesungen 1989–2008 (Münsteraner judaistische Studien 23), Berlin: Lit Verlag 2008, S. 23-54. 39 W. E. ARNAL, Jesus and the Village Scribes: Galilean Conflicts and the Setting of Q, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2001, S. 170. Arnal verbindet die These mit kritischen Erwägungen zu Theißens Wandercharismatikertheorie. Vgl. auch etwa J. S. K LOPPENBORG, The Sayings Gospel Q: Recent Opinion on the People Behind the Document, Currents in Research: Biblical Studies 1 (1993), S. 9-34; KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (s. Anm. 17), S. 200-213. 40 Vgl. M. FRENSCHKOWSKI, Matthäus als Gewährsmann der Logienquelle: Neues zu einer alten Theorie, in: C. Heil/G. Harb/M. Hölscher (Hgg.), Built on Rock or Sand? Q Studies – Retrospects, Introspects and Prospects (BEThL), Leuven: Peeters (im Erscheinen). 41 FRENSCHKOWSKI, Heilige Schriften (s. Anm. 1), S. 13-35 u.ö.

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für das 1. Jh. Schriftgelehrsamkeit mit einem hohen Maße an Professionalität begegnet uns in zwei wesentlichen Gestalten: in der halachischen und haggadischen Kommentierung von Texten, also in einer Bewegung vom Text zu einer theologischen Sache einerseits und in der fragenden und suchenden Indienstnahme von Texten für einen vorwegdefinierten Zusammenhang anderseits. Ein Sonderfall, der zwischen beiden Möglichkeiten steht, ist die relecture, die vor allem Erzähltexte unter neuen Leitfragen neu gestaltet und in die jeweilige Gegenwart holt (hierzu gehört die „rewritten Bible“ etwa des Josephus oder des Jubiläenbuches). Anders als in unserer Moderne ist das Pathos eines geschichtlichen Abstandes in der Antike keines, das in einer historischen Arbeit überwunden werden müsste: insofern existiert das Genre des Kommentars, der gerade die Fremdheit des Textes gegenüber der Gegenwart herausarbeitet, noch nicht in unserem heutigen Sinn. Die Schriftauslegungen eines Philon oder auch der Midraschliteratur kennen ein Gefühl der geschichtlichen Distanz, die erst zu überbrücken wäre, noch nicht. Sie binden den Text daher viel unmittelbarer an die Gegenwart, als es unsere Kommentare tun. Ein Mann wie Philon demonstriert uns das breite Spektrum jüdischer Schriftgelehrsamkeit (vor allem, wenn er konkurrierende Deutungen vergleicht, wie öfter in den armenisch erhaltenen Quaestiones in Genesim und den Quaestiones in Exodum), und obwohl er aus unserer Sicht zahlreiche platonisierende und andere fremde Gedanken in seine Texte einträgt, geht die Bewegung bei ihm doch vom Text zur Auslegung. Paulus dagegen verkörpert eher einen zweiten Typ: von der aktuellen Frage bzw. dem religiösen Sachproblem zum Text und zurück. Bei ihm steht jeweils das Sachproblem im Vordergrund, nicht der Text als solcher. Daher sind viele Textbezüge von großer Freiheit gegenüber ihren Vorlagen: Sara und Hagar sind typologische Urbilder der Kirche und Israels (Gal 4,21-26), obwohl ja doch Israel als Volk gerade von Sara, nicht von Hagar abstammt, und das Wort zum Ochsen, dem das Maul nicht verbunden wird (1 Kor 9,9f.), ist souverän gegen den Wortsinn herangezogen. Schriftzitate begründen bei Paulus weniger als dass sie illustrieren und stützen. Gelegentlich sollen sie „beweisen“, stehen aber auch da immer im Dienst des vorgegebenen Themas; nie bestimmen sie selbst das Thema. Eine Schriftauslegung in unserem ersteren Sinn wird bei Paulus nicht sichtbar, obwohl er ihre Denkmuster sachlich voraussetzt. Heikki Räisänen in seiner großangelegten Religionsgeschichte des frühen Christentums „The Rise of Christian Beliefs“ hat diese Unterschiede zwischen Paulus und jüdischen Thoraauslegern mit einer wünschenswerten Klarheit ausge-

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sprochen.42 Der Text wird ganz einem soteriologischen oder ekklesiologischen Anliegen dienstbar gemacht, oft unter gewaltsamer Verschiebung seines Sinnes bis zum Gegenteil des dem Wortlaut nach Gemeinten. Ein gegenüber der Soteriologie eigenständiges Interesse an alttestamentlichen Texten und ihren Zusammenhängen gibt es beim Apostel nicht, oder es wird zumindest in unseren Briefen nicht sichtbar (in der mündlichen Predigt mag es etwas anders gewesen sein): der Schriftbeweis wird so radikal dem christologischen Anliegen untergeordnet, dass der Rahmen im Judentum möglicher Schriftbezüge verlassen ist. Die Bewegung ist hier ganz von der Sache zum Text, niemals umgekehrt. Für Mt wird sich mit Einschränkungen und nicht ganz so radikal Ähnliches sagen lassen, beim Hebräerbrief dagegen ist der Sachverhalt komplexer, und das Eigenrecht der Texte kommt stärker zum Tragen. Aber in Q? Auch hier geht die Bewegung immer von der Sache zum Text bzw. zum Traditum. Aber offenbar müssen wir hier noch andere Aspekte heranziehen, um die genannten Auffälligkeiten zu erklären. Verglichen mit dem schriftgelehrten Verfasser des Matthäusevangeliums bewegen wir uns in einer völlig anderen Welt potentieller Bezüge auf Israels Geschichte und episches Traditum. Dabei sind noch weitere Kategorien möglicher Intertextualitäten zu bedenken. Speziell in der Erforschung des Thomasevangeliums hat das Phänomen der „secondary orality“ mit Recht zentrale Beachtung gefunden.43 In einer religiösen Kultur, die nicht eigentlich von einer Bildungselite getragen wird, sind Traditionen unter Umständen nicht so sehr als Texte präsent, sondern als mündliche Bausteine einer religiösen Lebensdeutung. Alttestamentliche Stoffe leben hier nicht als Texte, sondern als 42

H. RÄISÄNEN, The Rise of Christian Beliefs: The Thought World of Early Christians (s. Anm. 19), S. 262 vgl. 392 Anm. 121 (in mehr als der Hälfte seiner ATZitate ändert Paulus den Schrifttext, damit dieser besser zu seinem Argument passt). 43 Z.B. bei R. URO (Hg.), Thomas at the Crossroads: Essays on the Gospel of Thomas, Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1998, bes. S. 8-32; J. FREY, Die Lilien und das Gewand: EvThom 36 und 37 als Paradigma für das Verhältnis des Thomasevangeliums zur synoptischen Überlieferung, in: J. Frey/E. E. Popkes/J. Schröter (Hgg.), Das Thomasevangelium: Entstehung – Rezeption – Theologie (BZNW 157), Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 2008, S. 122-180, hier 139f. u.ö. etc.; s. jetzt die ausführliche Diskussion bei S. G ATHERCOLE, The Composition of the Gospel of Thomas: Original Language and Influences (SNTS.MS 151), Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2012, S. 155-159, 209-224 u.ö. Der Begriff selbst stammt von W. J. ONG, The Literate Orality of Popular Culture, in: Ders., Rhetoric, Romance, and Technology: Studies in the Interaction of Expression and Culture, Ithaca: Cornell University Press 1971; vgl. D ERS., Orality and Literacy: The Technologizing of the Word, London: Methuen 1982. Auch das kulturwissenschaftliche Konzept der identitätsstiftenden „Erinnerung“ hat viel zum Verständnis dieser Vorgänge beigetragen. Vgl. etwa J. SCHRÖTER, Erinnerung an Jesu Worte: Studien zur Rezeption der Logienüberlieferung in Markus, Q und Thomas (WMANT 76), Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag 1997.

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freie Anspielungen, so wie in der Genese des Thomasevangeliums möglicherweise mit einem mündlichen Nachhall ursprünglich schriftlicher Evangelientexte zu rechnen ist, die dann ihrerseits neu verschriftlicht werden. Der so schwer in den Griff zu bekommende, von Fall zu Fall divergierende Bezug der Thomastradition auf diejenige der Synoptiker findet unter Heranziehung einer solchen Kategorie wohl eine weithin plausible Erklärung. Es sind nicht primär synoptische Jesustexte, die in Thomas rezipiert werden, sondern deren mündliches Pendant, wenn auch spätestens auf der Ebene der Endfassung mit einem Einfluss der Bücher selbst zu rechnen ist. „Secondary orality“ in diesem Sinn berührt sich nun m.E. sehr stark mit dem nicht-schriftgelehrten Umgang mit jüdischem Erzählgut, wie er in dieser Studie für Q plausibel gemacht werden soll. Damit lassen sich zwanglos viele Textbeobachtungen zum Traditionsbezug in Q erklären: Q ist unser wichtigster frühchristlicher Zeuge dafür, wie sich ein nichtschriftgelehrter Umgang mit altjüdischen Stoffen verschriftlicht. Wenn Q von einem Menschen zusammengestellt wurde, der zwar lesen und schreiben konnte, aber eben doch kein Schriftgelehrter war, jedenfalls nicht im religiösen Sinn, können wir die genannten Textbeobachtungen problemlos verstehen. Die bekannte These von den „village scribes“ geht hier freilich nicht weit genug, zumal die Sprache von Q idiolektische Sonderbarkeiten aufweist, insbesondere in ihrer Verwendung monetärer und finanzieller Metaphern und Vokabeln. Auch darauf habe ich andernorts hingewiesen und will das hier nicht ausführen. An dieser Stelle soll es um einen anderen Aspekt gehen, der gleich noch deutlicher werden wird. Besitzen wir andere ausführliche Zeugnisse für einen dezidiert nichtschriftgelehrten Umgang mit dem Alten Testament aus der Antike? Zeugnisse, mit denen wir also etwa Q vergleichen könnten, um die Plausibilität einer solchen Sicht abzuschätzen? Natürlich kennen wir vereinzelte Nachrichten über das mündliche Erzählen biblischer Texte, z.B. die bekannte Passage in der der ältesten christliche Pädagogik, Johannes Chrysostomus’ Predigt De educandis liberis „Über Kindererziehung“. Der Prediger berichtet § 3944 ausführlich vom mündlichen Erzählen biblischer Texte, speziell für Kinder und ihre religiöse Erziehung. Er führt seine Gedanken am Beispiel der Geschichte von Kain und Abel aus (später dann auch an der von Jakob und Esau) und erklärt, wie man diese jenen nahebringen solle, die noch nicht lesen und schreiben können. Man solle z.B. die Namen nicht sofort nennen, sondern lieber anfangen: „Es waren einmal zwei Söhne von demselben Vater, zwei Brüder. Danach mache eine kleine 44 Johannes Chrysostomus: Über Hoffart und Kindererziehung, Theodoros Daphnophates: Über Kindererziehung, Ekloge aus Johannes Chrysostomus: Besorgt und ins Deutsche übertragen von Joseph Glagla (Schöninghs Sammlung pädagogischer Schriften: Quellen zur Geschichte der Pädagogik), Paderborn: Schöningh 1968, S. 18f.

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Pause und fahre dann fort: Und sie waren aus demselben Mutterleib gekommen“ usw. Wir begegnen also einer Enthistorisierung: die Episode wird gewissermaßen zeitlos, genau wie wir das für Q konstatiert haben. Mit solchen Passagen verfügen wir über vereinzelte direkte Zeugnisse für eine populäre mündliche Traditionsvermittlung, deren Eigenheiten wir leider aus der Literatur der Alten Kirche und des Judentums nur wenig profilieren können (obwohl wir natürlich flankierend vielfach einen solchen Traditionsmodus plausibel vermuten dürfen). Es existiert aber doch eine nur auf den ersten Blick fernerliegende Parallele, bei deren Analyse sich manche der Beobachtungen zur Logienquelle wiederholen und wir sehr detaillliert wahrzunehmen vermögen, wie ein wenig gebildeter, ganz volkstümlicher Umgang mit dem Alten Testament und seinen Traditionen ausgesehen haben mag. Es ist dies natürlich der westarabische Koran aus dem 7. Jh.45 Dieser zitiert bekanntlich weder das Alte noch das Neue Testament;46 ein mögliches Psalmenzitat Sure 21,5 aus Ps 37,29 ist eher fraglich, obwohl der Psalter unter dem rätselhaften Namen zabur erwähnt wird (4,163; 17,55; 21,105).47 Mohammed evoziert aber dennoch zahlreiche Episoden aus beiden Traditionen, oft in apokryphen und immer in ganz volkstümlichen, dezidiert nicht schriftgelehrten Fassungen.48 Noah und Jona, Abraham, Ismael, Isaak, Jakob, Josef, 45

Die Transkription des Arabischen ist im Folgenden nicht ganz einheitlich, da ich in die Transkriptionen bei Jeffery (s.u.) und anderen nicht eingreifen wollte, und auch sonst eingeführte Schreibungen nicht ändere. 46 Über biblische Anspielungen im Koran und das Fehlen von Zitaten vgl. A. N EUWIRTH, Der Koran als Text der Spätantike: Ein europäischer Zugang, Berlin: Verlag der Weltreligionen 2010, S. 149 u.ö.; H. SPEYER, Die biblischen Erzählungen im Qoran, Gräfenhainichen: C. Schulze 1931 (unersetzt und grundlegend; vgl. dazu N EUWIRTH, Der Koran als Text der Spätantike, S. 77. 187 u.ö.); S. GRIFFITH, Christians and Christianity, in: J. D. McAuliffe (Hg.), Encyclopaedia of the Qurʼān, 5 Bde., Leiden: E. J. Brill 2001– 2006, S. 1:307-316; DERS., Gospel, in: J. D. McAuliffe (Hg.), Encyclopaedia of the Qurʼān, S. 2:342f.; H. BUSSE, Die theologischen Beziehungen des Islams zu Judentum und Christentum: Grundlagen des Dialogs im Koran und die gegenwärtigen Situation, Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft 1988; T. LAWSON, The Crucifixion and the Qurʼān: A Study in the History of Muslim Thought, Oxford: Oneworld 2009, J. G NILKA, Bibel und Koran: Was sie verbindet, was sie trennt, Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder 2004; D ERS., Die Nazarener und der Koran: Eine Spurensuche, Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder 2007; J.-D. THYEN, Bibel und Koran: Eine Synopse gemeinsamer Überlieferungen, 3. Aufl., Köln: Böhlau 2000. 47 A. J EFFERY, The Foreign Vocabulary of the Qurʼān (Texts and Studies on the Qurʼān 3), Neuausgabe, Leiden: E. J. Brill 2007, S. 148f. (zuerst Baroda: Oriental Institute 1938). 48 Eine in ihrer Sicht entgegengesetzte neuere harmonisierende Lektüre des Koran als einer Predigtsammlung zu sachlich angeblich vorausgesetzten biblischen Texten ist G. S. REYNOLDS, The Qurʼān and Its Biblical Subtext (Routledge Studies in the Qurʼān 10), London: Routledge 2010. Das kann schwerlich überzeugen, und entspricht auch nicht

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Adam und Eva, Abel, der aus einem Kindheitsevangelium rührende Tontauben knetende Jesusknabe und seine Mutter,49 Lot, Mose, Aaron und Korach, selten David, Hiob, Elia und Elisa und einmal ˁUzair (wohl Esra; Sure 9,30) sind Figuren, die uns hier begegnen, aber nie als Gestalten aus Texten, sondern immer und nun ganz eindeutig aus einem rein mündlichen Traditum, als anschauliche Gestalten einer arabischen, jüdisch und christlich beeinflussten Erzählkultur. Diese werden eingezeichnet in kürzere und längere prophetische Redeformen, in denen sich altarabische Formen inspirierter Rede mit Anknüpfungen an biblische Formen verbinden. Gerichtsworte, Mahnrufe, Elemente von Predigt und Gemeindeordnung verbinden sich in lockerer, oft wenig organisierter Komposition: auch darin ist der Koran, wenn auch nur entfernter, Q vergleichbar. Tradiertes Erzählgut wird immer von Predigt und Mahnrede in den Dienst genommen; daher sind viele Erzählungen des Koran verglichen mit denen des AT nur angedeutet, niemals frei entfaltet (wie ja auch in Q), und bleiben oft nur Erzählfragmente (immerhin Sure 12 kann man von einer wirklich ausführlichen Nacherzählung von Stoffen der Josephsnovelle sprechen). Darin sind sie in vielen Fällen eher den Anspielungen auf die epischen Traditionen in den atl. Prophetenbüchern vergleichbar als den Erzählungen etwa der Bücher Genesis und Exodus, aus denen die meisten Stoffe ja letztlich stammen. Neutestamentliche Erzählungen sind im Koran selten und stammen ausschließlich aus der Evangelienüberlieferung; sie finden sich fast nur in den Suren 2–5 und 19; während altestamentliche Anspielungen in fast allen längeren Suren stehen, und nur in den kürzeren Texten ab Sure 62 meist fehlen.50 Wir können hier nur einige spezielle Aspekte in den Blick nehmen, die sich auf den Charakter nicht-schriftgelehrter Intertextualität beziehen; ein erster gemeinsamer Zug ist eben die Freude an holzschnittartigen Figuren aus einem begrenzten Figurenrepertoire. Der Koran ist in einem westarabischen Ambiente im 7. Jh. entstanden, im Schatten der beiden Großmächte, deren jahrzehntelanger Krieg das Machtvakuum schuf, in welchem der Islam zur Weltreligion werden konnte. Die Persönlichkeit, die hinter ihm steht, ist nach unserer Überlieferung ein Karawanenhändler, der erst spät im Leben zu einer religiösen Füh-

dem frühislamischen Bild von Mohammed. Vgl. auch R. TOTTOLI, Biblical Prophets in the Qurʼān and Muslim Literature, Richmond: Curzon 2002 (zuerst italienisch: I profeti biblici nella tradizione islamica, Brescia: Paideia 1999). 49 Spuren der Kindheitsevangelien könnte es auch sonst geben: mit ProtevJak 8,4 berührt sich Sure 3,37 in Hinsicht auf die Rolle des Zacharias, des Vaters Johannes des Täufers. 50 Vgl. etwa J. GNILKA, Die Nazarener und der Koran (s. Anm. 46), S. 123f. S. 130 schreibt er zutreffend: „Der primäre Wurzelboden des Koran ist das Judentum“.

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rungspersönlichkeit und zu einem Feldherrn heranreifte.51 Nach der islamischen Überlieferung ist Mohammed bei seiner Berufung etwa 40 Jahre alt. Er ähnelt also anderen Händlerpersönlichkeiten, die zu religiösen Gründern und Vermittlern wurden, etwa Markion oder dem jüdischen Kaufmann Ananias, welcher dem adiabenischen König Izates im 1. Jh. seinen Glauben nahebrachte (Josephus Ant 20,34 vgl. Gen. R. 46,10).52 Mohammed schöpft teilweise aus jüdischen, später zunehmend aus christlichen, etwa abessinischen Quellen, aber nach allem, was wir sehen können, nie direkt aus Büchern, sondern immer ganz aus dem Mündlichen. Tatsächlich ist das Bildungsniveau des Koran extrem gering, vergleicht man etwa mit der gleichzeitigen syrischen oder griechischen Literatur. Interreligiöse Rücksichtnahmen, aber auch schlichte Furcht vor islamistischen Reaktionen erschweren eine Diskussion dieser Gesichtspunkte im akademischen Diskurs zum frühen Islam leider erheblich. Immerhin ist seit jeher bekannt, dass der Koran eine Fülle kurioser Fehler und Missverständnisse von Traditionen aufweist, die nur bei vollständiger Abwesenheit jeder Form von „Buchbildung“ denkbar und verständlich sind, und auch nicht einfach als innovative Neuinterpretation eines Traditums erklärt werden können. Eben darin aber demonstrieren diese Traditionen für uns, wie sich Geschichten und Figuren textunabhängig verselbständigen können. Essentialistische Leseweisen, die nicht nach dem historischen Kontext fragen, sind hier selbstverständlich so wenig hilfreich wie im Fall der biblischen Bücher. Wir betrachten den Koran im Folgenden ausschließlich als religionsgeschichtliches Dokument einer arabischen Religionswerdung im 7. und vielleicht noch im 8. Jh., als einen Text an der Peripherie der spätantiken Welt, der für uns gerade in dieser Position weitab der Bildungskultur aufschlussreiche Zeugnisse für „oral tradition“ bietet. Es versteht sich von selbst, dass der Koran für andere Fragestellungen noch sehr viel anderes ist als dies und seine eigentliche weltgeschichtliche Bedeutung in völlig anderen Aspekten liegt; das kann an dieser Stelle aber nicht zum Thema werden. Dabei haben wir zu berücksichtigen, dass seine Erforschung in den letzten Jahren erheblich in Bewegung geraten ist. Neuere kritische Ansätze haben praktisch das gesamte traditionelle islamische Bild der Koranentstehung problematisiert.53 Diese Ansätze stellen notwendige 51 Vgl. zu allen Details T. N AGEL, Mohammed: Leben und Legende, München: Oldenbourg 2008. 52 Zur Bekehrung des adiabenischen Königshauses im 1. Jh. n.Chr. vgl. M. FRENSCHKOWSKI, Iranische Königslegende in der Adiabene: Zur Vorgeschichte von Josephus: Antiquitates XX, 17-33, ZDMG 140 (1990), S. 213-233. 53 Stichwortgeber ist hier u.a. die „Saarbrücker Schule“ der Korandeutung (KarlHeinz Ohlig, Gerd-Rüdiger Puin, Markus Groß, Christoph Luxenberg u.a.), die hier nicht diskutiert werden kann. Vgl. kritisch N AGEL, Mohammed: Leben und Legende (s. Anm. 51), S. 838f.; N EUWIRTH, Der Koran als Text der Spätantike (s. Anm. 46), S. 98-102.

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radikale Fragen, aber die sich abzeichnenden Modelle sind bisher kaum konsensfähig. Daneben tritt eine breite deutsche Koranforschung, die den Koran als Teil der europäisch-abendländischen Geschichte reklamieren möchte, partiell unter Zurückdrängung seiner kulturellen Fremdheit und unter gelegentlicher Übernahme islamischer Koranenkomiastik. Hier ist das Berliner Corpus Coranicum unter Leitung von Angelika Neuwirth zu nennen. Ihr vielbeachtetes Buch „Der Koran als Text der Spätantike: Ein europäischer Zugang“ (2010) versucht in einer kritischen Synthese den Koran als Teil abendländischer Geschichte zu verstehen, verlässt aber dabei nicht die durch den Islam selbst definierten Paradigmen der Koranentstehung, obwohl im Detail manches neu und innovativ gesehen wird. Der erste Band von Angelika Neuwirths eigener kommentierter Übersetzung (welche die Suren chronologisch ordnet) ist mittlerweile ebenfalls erschienen,54 wie überhaupt die große Zahl neuer Koranübersetzungen ins Deutsche die ins Bewegung geratene Betrachtung flankiert (Adel Theodor Khoury, Hans Zirker, Hartmut Bobzin u.a., neben diversen Übersetzungen islamischer Herkunft). Ein Grundproblem der Koranforschung bleibt weiterhin eine Rücksichtnahme auf islamische Sensibilitäten, die manche kritische Fragen, wie sie in den Bibelwissenschaften Tradition haben, immer wieder behindern. Dies alles müssen wir hier nicht vertiefen. Uns beschäftigt an dieser Stelle nur der Rezeptionsmodus für Alttestamentliches im Koran (in geringerem Umfang auch für Neutestamentliches). Q und der Koran haben in ihrem Bezug auf Jüdisch-Alttestamentliches erstaunliche Gemeinsamkeiten. Diese drücken sich zuerst in der Wahl der Figuren aus: es sind bunte, epische Figuren, die für Typisches stehen, nicht für Individuelles. Die Erzählzusammenhänge sind drastisch, lebhaft, leicht einprägsam, gewalttätig, oft märchenhaft wie bei Salomo, der Königin des Südens oder Jona. Diese Figuren stehen nebeneinander und gemeinsam der Gegenwart gegenüber. Im Koran begegnen in diesem Sinn Dhū l-Qarnain (der „Gehörnte“), also Alexander der Große (Sure 18,83-98) und die Siebenschläfer von Ephesus (Sure 18,9-26) neben dem Tontauben erweckenden Jesusknaben (Sure 3,49), Adam, Noah, Abraham, Lot oder dem Märchenkönig Salomo.55 Anders gesagt: es fehlt das geschichtliche Zeitgefühl. Das wird besonders deutlich durch die massiven und zum Teil grotesken chronologischen Missverständnisse, welche später die Korankommentatoren in große Verlegenheit gebracht haben. Dabei ist nicht nur an berühmte Sachverhalte wie die Verwechslung der Schwester des Mose 54

Der Koran: Band 1. Frühmekkanische Suren. Poetische Prophetie: Handkommentar mit Übersetzung von Angelika Neuwirth, Berlin: Verlag der Weltreligionen 2011. 55 Vgl. außer der bereits genannten Literatur zu jeweils ersten Orientierung über diese Figuren im Koran B. MAIER, Koran-Lexikon, Stuttgart: A. Kröner 2001 und ausführlicher MCAULIFFE (Hg.), Encyclopaedia of the Qurʾān (s. Anm. 46).

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Mirjam, arabisch Maryamu mit der Mutter Jesu (Sure 66,12 vgl. 3,34f.) zu denken. Auch sagenhafte arabische Prophetenfiguren treten quasi überzeitlich neben israelitische (wie Hūd, Prophet der ʿĀd, oder Ṣāliḥ, Prophet der Ṯamūd usw.; Sure 7 u. 11). Mohammed hat sie schwerlich erfunden (da der Koran auch sonst Narratives zwar verfremdet, aber nur selten erfindet). Die Verwechslung der Schwester des Mose mit der Mutter Jesu besagt ja, dass diese Figuren ohne jeden geschichtlichen Abstand, überhaupt im Grunde nicht als Figuren auf einem Zeitstrahl wahrgenommen werden, sondern als mythisches Figurenrepertoire. Sie illustrieren, dass Mohammed über keinerlei historisches Bewusstsein verfügt: alles Vergangene zerfällt in Episoden, Legenden, Mythen, ohne dass diese auf einem Zeitstrahl deutlich geordnet wären. Eine solche Sicht ist typisch für ein rudimentäres Geschichtsbewusstsein mündlicher Erzählkulturen (die selbstverständlich mit schriftlichen Kulturen koexistieren können, wie es in vielen Ländern der Erde ja bis heute ist). Alles Frühere ordnet sich noch nicht eindeutig in ein früher und später, sondern eher in ein Nebeneinander, in einen farbenprächtigen Kosmos von epischen Figuren, die zwar fast alle einer fernen Vergangenheit angehören, aber sich doch kaum auf einem Zeitstrahl verorten lassen.56 Wir haben die gleiche Beobachtung an der Logienquelle gemacht, welche die Tage Noahs mit denen des Menschensohns unmittelbar kontrastieren und den prachtvollen König Salomo oder den in letzter Minute geretteten Lot und das untergegangene Sodom ähnlich unmittelbar paränetisch auf die Gegenwart beziehen kann. Ähnlich inszeniert Mohammed das Auftreten der vor ihm gekommenen Propheten wie Noah in unmittelbarer Analogie zu seinem eigenen; seine Zuhörer (vor allem in mekkanischer Zeit) werden gleichsam mit den Zuhörern der alten Propheten synchron.57 Spätere arabische Historiker haben dann zwar rasch die griechische und syrische Geschichtsschreibung rezipiert und bewegen sich auch sonst auf völlig anderem Bildungsniveau als der Koran. Das beliebige Nebeneinander der biblischen Figuren in Q scheint mir von diesem jedoch nicht weit entfernt. Bemerkenswert ist auch die Vorliebe für Figuren aus dem epischen Traditum; Personen der jüngeren Vergangenheit kommen sowohl in Q als auch im Koran zwar vor, aber doch nur selten. Es fehlen Anspie56 Vgl. allgemein zu Zeitwahrnehmungen in archaischen und oralen Kulturen M. FRENSCHKOWSKI, Zeitalter, in: K. Ranke u.a. (Hgg.), Enzyklopädie des Märchens: Handwörterbuch zur historischen und vergleichenden Erzählforschung, 13 Bde. bisher erschienen, Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 1975–, erscheint in Band 14 (im Erscheinen). Andere Aspekte der koranischen und altarabischen Zeitvorstellungen können wir hier nicht diskutieren, insbesondere das Verhältnis zwischen Zeit, Schicksal und Gott. Dazu vgl. G. TAMER , Zeit und Gott: Hellenistische Zeitvorstellungen in der altarabischen Dichtung und im Koran (SGKIO, N.F. 20), Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 2008. 57 So SPEYER, Die biblischen Erzählungen im Qoran (s. Anm. 46), S. 467f.

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lungen auf Zusammenhänge, die nur als Texte greifbar wären. Im Koran treten daher ein Paulus und seine Theologie nicht in den Blick, wie es in Q keine Spuren priesterlicher oder schriftgelehrter Theologie gibt (außer dem kompositionsgeschichtlich späten Text Q 4) und die Welt der Pharisäer und Schriftgelehrten nur aus polemischer Distanz wahrgenommen wird (Q 11,39-44.46-48.52). Natürlich ist ein solches argumentum e silentio immer mit einem gewissen Risiko behaftet; es wird aber in unserem Fall durch eine Fülle weiterer Beobachtungen gestützt. Der Koran vereinnahmt Lokaltraditionen, wie es in Q geschieht (s. oben zu Jona) und verlegt biblische Stoffe in den arabischen Raum.58 Missverständnisse sind Legion, die eine nähere Kenntnis der „Bücher“ ausschließen. Als Vater Abrahams erscheint im Koran ein Āzar (Sure 6,74). Dieser ist aber offenbar der biblische Eliezer: Abrahams Knecht wurde also mit seinem Vater verwechselt, der bekanntlich Tarach heißt; die Eingangssilbe wurde fälschlich als arabischer Artikel gehört.59 Gelegentlich sind auch sonst im Koran Namensbestandteile hebräischer Namen als arabische Artikel interpretiert worden: es tritt nicht in den Blick, dass diese Namen gar nicht arabisch sind (al-Yasaˁ in Sure 6,86; 38,48 ist Elisa).60 Ähnlich wird Firˁaun „Pharao“ (74 mal im Koran) bei den islamischen Kommentatoren zum König der Amalekiter, nicht mehr der Ägypter; in der Sure über Joseph kommt er gar nicht vor (das finale Nun beweist, dass der Titel Mohammed über christliche, nicht jüdische Vermittler erreichte).61 Auch das zeugt für den fehlenden Kontakt zur biblischen Geschichte in ihrer Buchfassung.62 Erzählungen wie die von Jālūt (Goliath, Sure 2,249-251) lassen nur noch vage den biblischen Hintergrund erkennen.63 Das Bild Ibrāhīms (69 Mal im Koran) ist weniger am biblischen Abraham orientiert (wie er auch nie als Vorfahre Israels evoziert wird),64 sondern entfaltet ein ganz eigenes Porträt des Patriarchen als Vorbild des Gehorsams für alle Menschen, Wegbereiter 58

Vgl. etwa NEUWIRTH, Der Koran als Text der Spätantike (s. Anm. 46), S. 638, 643648 (Ibrahim, Ismail und die Kaaba) vgl. S. 404 zu den „Leuten des Elefanten“; JEFFERY, The Foreign Vocabulary of the Qurʼān (s. Anm. 47), S. 106f. (Berg der Arche Noah), etc. 59 Vgl. J EFFERY, The Foreign Vocabulary of the Qurʼān (s. Anm. 47), S. 53-55. 60 Vgl. J EFFERY, The Foreign Vocabulary of the Qurʼān (s. Anm. 44), S. 68f. und zu Mohammeds Missverständnis hebräischer Namensteile als arabischer Artikel s. J. H OROVITZ, Jewish Proper Names and Derivatives in the Koran, HUCA 2 (1925), S. 145227 = Separatausgabe Hildesheim: G. Olms 1964 (danach zitiert), S. 13 (S. 157). 61 Vgl. J EFFERY, The Foreign Vocabulary of the Qurʼān (s. Anm. 47). 62 Das Wort „Amalekiter“ meint in der arabischen Überlieferung allerdings die verschiedensten vorislamischen Völker: Kanaanäer, Philister, Kopten und andere. Vgl. T. N ÖLDEKE, Über die Amalekiter und einige andere Nachbarvölker der Israeliten, Göttingen: In der Dieterich’schen Buchhandlung 1864. 63 Vgl. J EFFERY, The Foreign Vocabulary of the Qurʼān (s. Anm. 47), S. 97f., v.a. zur schwierigen, sehr entstellten arabischen Namensform. 64 So auch NEUWIRTH, Der Koran als Text der Spätantike (s. Anm. 46), S. 637.

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des Monotheismus (der sich darüber mit seinem Vater überwirft, Sure 21,52-58; 37,88-96) und Kultstifter der Kaaba.65 Das erinnert an die Umakzentuierung Abrahams in Q in einen Gastgeber des eschatologischen Festmahls. Die apokryphe Legende von Abraham im Feuerofen (Sure 21,68f.) nimmt einen wichtigen Platz ein.66 Bekanntlich wird die Geburt Isaaks erst nach der Opferszene mit Abrahams Sohn berichtet (Sure 37,112); im Islam ist es weitgehend Ismael, der geopfert werden soll, und der dann mit seinem Vater das Heiligtum von Mekka begründet (gebildetere Korankommentatoren schon der älteren Zeit wissen aber, dass dies der biblischen Überlieferung widerspricht).67 Neben die biblischen treten gewissermaßen gleichberechtigt Figuren der Volkssage wie Luqmān (Achiqar oder Bileam, Sure 31), Idrīsu (wohl „Andreas“, der unsterbliche Koch der Alexandersage) und Alexander der Große. Das erinnert daran, wie der Täufer, Jesus und Zacharias in Q neben die altjüdischen Figuren treten. Beide Texte werden durch ihre sehr auffällige Vorliebe für Katastrophen- und Gerichtsnarrationen (Noah, Lot, Jona, der Menschensohn als Weltrichter), also göttliche Gerichte (im Koran sind die Propheten überhaupt in erster Linie Mahner und Ankünder göttlicher Strafen), und für volkstümliches farbig-lebhaftes Erzählgut ohne subtilere Figurenzeichnung verbunden. Die Heilsbotschaft beider Quellen entfaltet sich jeweils vor einer Kontrastfolie angekündigten universalen Gerichts und Unheils, das nach den Bildern altjüdischer Erzählungen gestaltet wird. Für christliche und jüdische Leserinnen und Leser sehr auffällig sind auch die volkstümlichen und arabisierenden Verballhornungen biblischer Namen, die nur durch lange mündliche Überlieferung und ein Abbrechen des Kontaktes mit den schriftlichen Formen erklärt werden können. Aus Abraham wird Ibrāhīm, eine arabische Analogiebildung zu Ismāˁīl und Isrāˁīl. Aus Korach wird Qārūn, offenbar eine Reimwortbildung zu Hārūn, 65 Vgl. J EFFERY, The Foreign Vocabulary of the Qurʼān (s. Anm. 47), S. 44-46; S PEYER, Die biblischen Erzählungen im Qoran (s. Anm. 46), S. 120-186, der zeigt, wie sich das Abrahambild Mohammeds im Koran langsam verändert. 66 Vgl. H. SCHÜTZINGER, Ursprung und Entwicklung der arabischen AbrahamNimrod-Legende, Bonn: Rheinische Friedrich-Wilhelms-Universität 1961; SPEYER, Die biblischen Erzählungen im Qoran (s. Anm. 46), S. 140-145. 67 Vgl. F. LEEMHUIS, Ibrāhīm’s Sacrifice of His Son in the Early Post-Koranic Tradition, in: E. Noort/E. J. C. Tigchelaar (Hgg.), The Sacrifice of Isaac: The Aqedah (Genesis 22) and Its Interpretation (Themes in Biblical Narrative 4), Leiden: E. J. Brill 2002, S. 125-139 sowie R. FIRESTONE, Abraham’s Son as the Intended Sacrifice: Issues in Qur’anic Exegesis, Journal of Semitic Studies 34 (1989), S. 95-131; ausführlicher DERS ., Journeys in Holy Lands: The Evolution of the Abraham-Ishmael Legends in Islamic Exegesis, Albany, N. Y.: State University of New York Press 1990. Die Beziehung Abrahams zur Kaaba könnte in Ansätzen schon vorislamisch sein; so NAGEL, Mohammed: Leben und Legende (s. Anm. 51), S. 19-26. 847.

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das seinerseits Apokope von hebr. Aharon ist.68 Aus Schaul wird Țālūt, offenbar durch ein kurioses Missverständnis Mohammeds, wie Arthur Jeffery gezeigt hat, dessen Forschungen wir viele einschlägige Beobachtungen entnehmen können.69 Ebenso kurios ist die Umbenennung Jethros in arabisch Shuʿayb, formal ein Diminutiv.70 Der Mann, der den Israeliten in der Wüste das goldene Kalb schuf, heißt im Koran nach einer uns nicht mehr recht greifbaren Tradition „der Samaritaner“ (as-Sāmirī, Sure 20,85.88.95).71 An die bis heute nicht völlig gelösten Probleme, die mit der islamischen Variation des Jesusnamens verbunden sind, erinnern wir nur en passant.72 Aus Johannes dem Täufer wird arabisch Yaḥyā, eine Arabisierung, die auf Inschriften schon vorislamisch als Personenname belegt ist,73 usw. Idrīsu (Sure 19,56; 21,85) ist später der biblische Henoch; der Name aber ist von griechisch Andreas verballhornt. Jona (arab. meist Yūnus), den der Koran ähnlich wie Q sehr schätzt und in sechs Suren namentlich nennt, ist volkstümlich ḏū n-nūni „der mit dem Fisch“ (Sure 21,87).74 Das Interesse beider Quellen an dieser Figur zeigt neben den zahllosen Jonaheiligtümern und -kapellen Palästinas auch, wie sehr er die

68 Vgl. J EFFERY, The Foreign Vocabulary of the Qurʼān (s. Anm. 47), S. 231f., 283f. Zu den in arabischen Umformungen biblischer Namen beliebten Reimwortbildungen vgl. H OROVITZ, Jewish Proper Names (s. Anm. 60), S. 17-20. 69 Vgl. J EFFERY, The Foreign Vocabulary of the Qurʼān (s. Anm. 47), S. 204. 70 Vgl. HOROVITZ, Jewish Proper Names (s. Anm. 60), S. 27f. 71 Vgl. J EFFERY, The Foreign Vocabulary of the Qurʼān (s. Anm. 47), S. 158f.; S PEYER, Die biblischen Erzählungen im Qoran (s. Anm. 46), S. 323-332; zwischen Juden und Samaritanern herrscht in der Spätantike durchgehend heftige gegenseitige Aggression mit erheblichem Gewaltpotential. 72 Vgl. J EFFERY, The Foreign Vocabulary of the Qurʼān (s. Anm. 47), S. 218-220. 73 Vgl. J EFFERY, The Foreign Vocabulary of the Qurʼān (s. Anm. 47), S. 290. 74 Über Jona im Islam vgl. B. HELLER (A. RIPPIN), Yūnus, in: P. J. Bearman u.a. (Hgg.), Encyclopaedia of Islam, Neuausgabe, Leiden: E. J. Brill 1998–2004, S. 11:347349; JEFFERY, The Foreign Vocabulary of the Qurʼān (s. Anm. 47), S. 282. 295f.; S PEYER, Die biblischen Erzählungen im Qoran (s. Anm. 46), S. 407-410; K. HOHEISEL, Jonas im Koran, in: G. Schöllgen/C. Scholten (Hgg.), Stimuli: Exegese und ihre Hermeneutik in Antike und Christentum: FS Ernst Dassmann (JAC. Erg 23), Münster: Aschendorff 1996, S. 611-621; TOTTOLI, Biblical Prophets in the Qurʼān (s. Anm. 48), S. 42f. m. Anm. 61. Die Namensform mit finalem „s“ beweist in diesem Fall zwingend, dass Mohammed den Namen aus christlichen, nicht jüdischen Quellen übernimmt; dennoch ist die christliche Tod-Auferstehungs-Typologie in Hinsicht auf Jona dem Koran fremd. Mohammed kennt also nur die „Story“. Bekannt ist auch der Hadīth, demzufolge Mohammed erklärt, Jona nicht überlegen zu sein (Ṣaḥīḥ al-Buḫārī 4,55,624-627 = Üb. Muhammad Muhsin Khan Nr. 3412-3416 [sic]: Bd. 4. Darussalam 1997, S. 390f.). Aus der Rizinusstaude des Jonabuches wird im Koran 37,146 eine Kürbispflanze, wie in Septuaginta und Peschitta; vgl. dazu A. FÜRST, Kürbis oder Efeu? – Zur Übersetzung von Jona 4,6 in der Septuaginta und bei Hieronymus, BN 72 (1994), S. 12-19.

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volkstümliche Frömmigkeit beschäftigt hat.75 Jona ist der einzige Buchprophet, den der Koran namentlich nennt: und genauso ist es in Q. Interessant sind auch die Verkleinerungsformen biblischer Namen im Koran, die wohl ursprünglich einen verächtlichen Beigeschmack haben und in ihrem Ursprung bis heute nicht völlig geklärt sind. Aus Esra wird ˁUzair, eine diminutive, spöttische Verballhornung, aus Schlomo (Salomo) wird Sulaimān, ebenfalls ein Diminutiv. Die Information über ihn stammt offenbar aus apokryphen Quellen, nicht primär aus der Bibel.76 Wir haben oben gesehen, wie Salomo für Q der weise Märchenkönig ist, zu dem die „Königin des Südens“ reist. Auch Ortslagen werden im Koran gelegentlich verlagert. Die Stätte, an der Noahs Arche niedergegangen sei, ist nun nicht mehr der Berg Ararat fern im Norden, sondern Jūdī im Territorium der Țaˀī, wie Nöldeke zuerst entdeckt hat (Sure 11,44).77 Nūḥ (Noah) wird damit zu einem der altarabischen Untergangspropheten wie diejenigen, welche den ʿĀd und den Ṯamūd das Gottesgericht angekündigt hatten, altarabischen Stämmen. An Ibrāhīm und Ismāˁīl in Mekka haben wir schon erinnert; man kann geradezu von einer „Nostrifikation“ der jüdischen Figuren bei Mohammed sprechen.78 Die biblische Geschichte wird den Zeitgenossen auch geographisch nahegerückt. (Sehr merkwürdig ist dagegen der Fluss Furāt, der Euphrat, in Sure 25,53; 35,12; 77,27 zu einer mythischen Größe geworden, wie der Jordan bei den Mandäern.) Die Erzählstoffe alttestamentlichen und seltener neutestamentlichen Ursprungs haben zu großen Teilen einen apokryphen Beigeschmack. Erstaunlich und unbedingt hervorzuheben ist dabei, dass Mohammed gar nicht zwischen kanonischen und apokryphen Stoffen unterscheiden kann: beides erreicht 75

Zur Beliebtheit Jonas in der altkirchlichen Kunst vgl. E. DASSMANN, J. ENGEMANN, K. HOHEISEL, Jona, in: RAC 18 (1998), S. 670-699, bes. S. 689-697. 76 So auch J EFFERY, The Foreign Vocabulary of the Qurʼān (s. Anm. 47), S. 178. Die Form wurde über das Syrische angeregt, ist aber selbst arabisierend, wie schon T. N ÖLDEKE gezeigt hat: Bemerkungen über Hebräische und Arabische Eigennamen, ZDMG 15 (1861), S. 806-810, S. 806 Anm. 4. Vgl. auch C. BROCKELMANN, Grundriß der vergleichenden Grammatik der semitischen Sprachen, 2 Bde., Berlin: Reuther & Reichard 1908–1913, S. 1:255f. über die dabei wirksame Vokaldissimilation. 77 Vgl. J EFFERY, The Foreign Vocabulary of the Qurʼān (s. Anm. 47), S. 106f. Diese Verlagerung der Tradition findet sich auch in einer vielleicht vorislamischen syrischen Quelle, einem Gedicht über Noah. Text: F. SCHULTHESS, Umajja ibn Abi ṣ-Ṣalt: Die unter seinem Namen überlieferten Gedichtfragmente, Leipzig: Hinrich 1911, S. 39f.; BAHǦA ʿABDALĠAFŪR AL-ḤADĪTĪ, Umayya ibn abī ṣ-Ṣalt: Ḥayātuhū wa-šiʿruhū, Bagdad: Maṭbaʿat al-ʿānī 1975, S. 318-321 (neuere Textausgabe, non vidi). Übersetzung: S CHULTHESS, Umajja ibn Abi ṣ-Ṣalt, S. 97-98 („der Ǧūdī-Berg war ihm Ziel und Endstation, und vor ihm erlahmten die [Meeres-]Fluten“). 78 Vgl. NAGEL, Mohammed: Leben und Legende (s. Anm. 51), S. 169-171; N EUWIRTH, Der Koran als Text der Spätantike (s. Anm. 46), S. 633-652 (mit erheblichen Abweichungen der Sicht im einzelnen).

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ihn ja aus der gleichen (mündlichen) Tradition.79 Für seine mekkanischen Gegner waren dies alles nur „alte Fabeln“ (arab. asāṭīr, Sure 68,15, vgl. 6,25; 8,31; 16,24; 23,83; 25,5; 27,68; 46,17; 83,13). Natürlich weiß er von „Büchern“: aber Abraham und Ismael sind ihm genauso Autor je eines „Buches“ wie Mose (jedem „Gesandten“ entspricht immer ein Buch, allerdings nicht immer jedem Propheten, beides wird ja differenziert);80 genauere Vorstellungen hat er nicht. Der Koran rezipiert nicht die Thora und das Evangelium, er rezipiert ihre mündlichen Pendants im volkstümlichen Erzählgut, und zwar in dezidiert nicht schriftgelehrten und arabisierenden Variationen. Hinzu tritt, dass Mohammed ursprünglich mit einer Verschriftlichung seiner Offenbarungen nach neueren Forschungen vielleicht gar nicht gerechnet hat, obwohl er von der öffentlichen Lektüre heiliger Texte bei Juden und Christen Kenntnis hatte; dennoch scheint es zu frühen Niederschriften gekommen zu sein.81 Eine letzte eher kuriose Gemeinsamkeit zwischen Logienquelle und Koran, die wir hier erwähnen wollen, ist ihre stete Referenz auf finanzielle und monetäre Größen. Franz Altheim hat einmal beobachtet: „Es wird kaum eine religiöse Urkunde geben, deren Ausdrucksweise derart von kaufmännischen Vorstellungen geprägt ist wie der Koran.“82 Eine ähnliche Obsession der Bildwelt mit Geld, Abgaben, Schulden, Schuldknechtschaft, Bezahlen, Münzen etc. findet sich tatsächlich nur in der Logienquelle, was für den sozialen Hintergrund des Kompilators und seines Idiolektes aufschlussreich ist (dazu andernorts mehr). Aus der Perspektive der Bildungselite betrachtet, begegnet uns im Koran und in Q eine Bildungsstruktur, die einer Lebenswelt weitab kultureller Zentren entstammt. Das sagt natürlich nichts über die theolo79

Zurecht betont bei SPEYER, Die biblischen Erzählungen im Qoran (s. Anm. 46), S.

463.

80

Sure 87,19 kennt „Blätter“ (arab. ṣuḥuf) Abrahams, Sure 19,42 ein Buch (arab. kitāb) Abrahams und Sure 19,55 ein Buch Ismaels (doch ist kitāb vielfach mehr die Idee eines himmlischen Offenbarungsbuches als der materielle Gegenstand; vgl. NAGEL, Mohammed: Leben und Legende [s. Anm. 51], S. 87-95). Von Büchern Abrahams weiß immerhin auch die apokryphe jüdische Überlieferung (Jub 12,27 vgl. 17); späteren gilt er ja auch als Autor des Sefer Jezirah und von diversen magischen Texten (vgl. auch das Testament Abrahams und die Apokalypse Abrahams). Die Stichometrie des Nikephoros und die Synopsis Athanasii kennen ein Buch Ἀβραάµ (nach ersterer nur 300 Stichen lang). Mehrfach hören wir in altkirchlicher Literatur von einer Inquisitio Abrahae, usw. Auch in der zoroastrischen Tradition ist Abraham als Autor von Büchern bekannt. Es scheint mir aber wahrscheinlicher, dass Mohammed einfach pauschal voraussetzt, es müsse ein Buch Abrahams geben, so wie es ein Buch des Mose gab. 81 So (gegen Jeffery) N EUWIRTH, Der Koran als Text der Spätantike (s. Anm. 46), S. 240. 82 F. A LTHEIM , Utopie und Wirtschaft: Eine geschichtliche Betrachtung, Frankfurt am Main: V. Klostermann 1957, S. 201.

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gische Dignität der Texte aus. Im antiken jüdischen Kontext wissen wir nur sehr wenig über die Welt derer, die zwar Juden waren, aber die Schrift weithin nur mündlich kannten.83 Vom Denken und Glauben der galiläischen Bauern und Fischer hören wir nur wenig, und müssen uns manches ratend zurechtlegen. Was es etwa an Schriftlesung in synagogalen Versammlungen in Galiläa gegeben haben mag, wissen wir schlechterdings nicht, und dürfen keineswegs aus den synagogalen Strukturen der späteren Zeit oder der urbanen Diasporawelt Kleinasiens Rückschlüsse ziehen. Ähnliches gilt mutatis mutandis für das Westarabien des 7. Jh., dessen Judentum und Christentum sich uns weder mit der rabbinischen noch mit der byzantinischen Schriftgelehrsamkeit erschließt (auch hat Mohammed mit einiger Sicherheit nie einen Synygogengottesdienst besucht). Die berühmten Aussagen über den ˁam ha-aretz in der späteren rabbinischen Literatur können ja nur sehr begrenzt auf das 1. Jh. zurückbezogen werden und sind zudem von so erheblicher Distanz geprägt, dass wir von ihnen nur wenig auf Tatsächliches zurückschließen können.84 Da mag der Vergleich mit dem Koran eine willkommene Nebenlinie bilden. Schließlich werden die voranstehenden Überlegungen nicht missverstanden werden, wenn sie zugleich als Apell gehört werden, nicht nur die Erforschung der christlichen und der islamischen Anfänge in einen intensiveren religionsgeschichtlichen Dialog zu führen, sondern konkreter auch die Gemeinsamkeiten fruchtbar zu machen, welche Texte wie den Koran und die Logienquelle auch in formaler und allgemein kultureller Hinsicht verbinden. Beide sind halbliterarische Sammlungen der Offenbarungen eines Gerichtspropheten in einem strukturell sehr ähnlichen Ambiente weitab von den jeweiligen kulturellen und politischen Zentren. Beide schöpfen m.E. vielfach aus freiem jüdischem Erzählgut. Es versteht sich von selbst, dass mit diesen Ausführungen nur erste Anregungen formuliert sind, die weiterer Erforschung bedürfen. Viele volkstümliche Züge der Q-Tradition konnten hier nicht weiter diskutiert werden, etwa die Rezeption des 1283 Wir hören zwar bei Philon einiges von jenen, welche die Anstößigkeiten der Thora durch Allegorisierungen außer Kraft setzen (de migr Abr 89-93) oder bei Josephus in der Zambrias-Rede vom Denken jener, die in der Thora ausschließlich das Werk des Menschen Mose und keineswegs eine Offenbarung sehen, das daher auch radikal kritisiert werden kann (Ant 4,141-149). Aber das sind ja doch anders gelagerte Fälle aus der wenig erforschten Welt eines weniger strengen und thoraobservanten, nicht aber eines „volkstümlichen“, nicht-schriftgelehrten, aber doch in hohem Maße religiös engagierten Judentums. Vgl. zu ersterem die das Thema keineswegs erschöpfende Studie von P OLLMANN, Gesetzeskritische Motive (s. Anm. 19). 84 Vgl. etwa A. OPPENHEIMER, The ˁam ha-aretz: A Study in the Social History of the Jewish People in the Hellenistic-Roman Period (ALGHJ 8), Leiden: E. J. Brill 1977; DERS ., People of the Land in: J. J. Collins/D. C. Harlow (Hgg.), The Eerdmans Dictionary of Early Judaism, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 2010, S. 1042f.

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Stämme-Motifs in der 12-Zahl der Jünger (m.E. in Q 22,30 vorausgesetzt); die 12 Stämme sind ja längst Gegenstand populärer Legende und nicht mehr vorfindlich vorhanden. Q 13,34 ist die Tötung der Propheten aus dem AT nicht zu entnehmen, sondern israelkritisches theologisches Erzählgut, von dem wir nicht genau wissen, in welcher Gestalt es Jesus und Q erreicht haben mag. All dies erinnert an die Legendenrezeption im Koran.

Parables in Q

The Q Parables: Their Extent and Function Paul Foster The perennial, and yet perhaps unanswerable question concerning what makes a parable a parable will be in the background of this discussion. A second prior question that is also fundamental to the discussion here concerns determining the parameters of the Q material. A classic example where determination of the extent of Q impinges directly upon the topic of this study relates to the Sondergut tradition, the Parable of the Lost Coin (Luke 15,8-10). With this tradition there is significant dispute about whether this is Q material, or belongs to special Lukan material. However, both of these issues are genuine and foundational to this study. This is because determining the number of Q parables revolves around two somewhat subjective and contested judgments. Namely, these are what features enable a tradition to be categorized as a parable, and also debates concerning which traditions that should be included in a defensible reconstruction of Q. However, rather than attempt to start with a definition of the parable form, the approach here will be inductive. It will commence with a survey of the work of previous scholars, in order to see if any broad consensus emerges. The issue of the reconstruction of Q is a major topic in Q scholarship, and has received major recent attention.1

1. Counting the Number of Parables in Q Following the example of material contained in the synoptic gospels, perhaps the correct starting point is to focus on those pericopae in Q where the material is designated using the term παραβολή. For comparative purposes it may be noted that the term παραβολή occurs approximately sixteen 1 See recently, P. FOSTER, ‘The Extent of the Recoverable Q Material’, Society of Biblical Literature annual meeting Atlanta, Ga. 20 November 2010; D. R. MAC DONALD, Two Shipwrecked Gospels: The Logoi of Jesus and Papias’ Exposition of Logia about the Lord, Atlanta, Ga.: Society of Biblical Literature 2012.

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times in Matthew, thirteen times in Mark, eighteen times in Luke. 2 This suggests both the term and the literary form was widely known and used by the synoptic evangelists. When considering the Q material, here taking The Critical Edition of Q as a convenient base text, it is striking to note that the term παραβολή is completely absent.3 Given the lack of explicit use of parable terminology, a more inductive approach must be adopted. It is evident within the synoptic tradition that there are certain pericopae that have many generic features in common with literary forms explicitly labelled as parables, which do not contain the term παραβολή. For instance, three of the classic Lukan narrative parables, the Good Samaritan (Luke 10,30-37), the prodigal son (Luke 15,11-32), and the unjust steward (Luke 16,1-13), all lack the term parable either in the introductory material or elsewhere in the illustrative story. In order to identify parabolic material in Q the initial approach will be to list pericopae in Q where illustrative or comparative material is used to elucidate some other point. This catalogue will be based on the material contained in The Critical Edition of Q since this reconstruction is one of the fullest and most widely used listing of potential Q materials. After this catalogue of potential parabolic material has been assembled, this list will be compared with a number of standard works on the parables in order to see which are frequently included under that literary classification. Drawing upon the order of material in The Critical Edition of Q the following list of possible parable pericopae is assembled: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10.

2

Q 6,47-49 Q 7,31-35 Q 12,39-40 Q 12,42-46 Q 13,18-19 Q 13,20-21 Q 14,16-21.23 Q 15,4-5.7 Q 15,8-10 Q 19,12-13.15-24.26

The Two Builders The Children in the Market Place The Unexpected Thief The Faithful Servant The Mustard Seed The Leaven The Wedding Banquet The Lost Sheep The Lost Coin The Talents/Pounds

See I. H. MARSHALL (ed.), Moulton and Geden: Concordance to the Greek New Testament, 6th ed. fully rev., London: T & T Clark 2002, p. 830. 3 See the concordance in J. M. ROBINSON/P. HOFFMANN/J. S. K LOPPENBORG (eds.), The Critical Edition of Q: A Synopsis, Including the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, Mark and Thomas: With English, German and French Translations of Q and Thomas (Hermeneia Supplements), Leuven: Peeters/Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2000, p. 577.

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Whether other short traditions should be considered as part of this list is obviously debatable, and in part depends upon the definition of the parable genre, as well as on individual judgments about whether the features in a given saying of a pericope align closely with the parable form. Other potential traditions may include the saying about removing the log from one’s own eye (Q 6,41-42), or the teaching on the Father’s good gifts (Q 11,11-13). In order to gauge previous scholarly opinion on which of these traditions should be classified as parables, it is beneficial to survey studies on the parables in order to catalogue those Q traditions that have been described as being parables in the major studies. 1.1. C. H. Dodd, The Parables of the Kingdom (1935) Although a relatively short book, Dodd’s treatment of the parables, which originated as the Shaffer lectures delivered at Yale, was to prove highly influential. Dodd argued that not too rigorous a distinction should be drawn between a parable and an allegory. However he goes on to state, while the allegory is a merely decorative illustration of teaching supposed to be accepted on other grounds, the parable has the character of an argument, in that it entices the hearer to a judgment upon the situation depicted, and then challenges him, directly or by implication, to apply that judgment to the matter in hand.4

In the opening page of his index Dodd lists in two sections, first ‘parables discussed in detail’ and then ‘parables referred to’.5 Extracting from this list any material that overlaps with texts in The Critical Edition of Q the following list can be formed: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13.

4

Q 6,41-42 Q 6,47-49 Q 7,31-35 Q 11,11-13 Q 12,39-40 Q 12,42-46 Q 12,57-59 Q 13,18-19 Q 13,20-21 Q 14,16-21.23 Q 14,34-35 Q 15,4-5.7 Q 15,8-10

The Speck and the Log The Two Builders The Children in the Market Place Son asking for Bread The Unexpected Thief The Faithful Servant The Defendant The Mustard Seed The Leaven The Wedding Banquet Savourless Salt The Lost Sheep The Lost Coin

C. H. DODD, The Parables of the Kingdom, London: James Nisbet & Company 1935, p. 23. 5 D ODD, The Parables of the Kingdom (see n. 4), p. 211.

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One Taken, One Left Eagles and Carcass The Talents/Pounds

It is immediately apparent that Dodd provides a much more extensive list than the initial attempt presented above at listing Q parables. A number of factors may influence this larger catalogue of pericope. First Dodd is not simply considering the Q form of the tradition. Instead he is reading both the Matthean and Lukan forms, and it appears in some cases the evangelists have made redactional changes that add introductions that describe the material as a parable. For instance, in the wider context of the ‘Speck and the Log’ (Q 6,41-42) the complex of material contained in Luke 6,39-45 is introduced with the phrase ‘and he spoke this parable to them’ (Luke 6,39a). It is strange that Dodd does not discuss the material that immediately follows, the ‘blind leading the blind’ as parable since this is what follows directly from the introductory formula concerning speaking in parables. This is also double tradition material (Luke 6,39b40//Matt 15,14; 10,24-25), which contains the sayings about blind guides and a disciple not being above the master. While not introduced using the term ‘parable’ the tradition contained in Luke 12,57-59 follows on from the more image-laden criticism of reading the sky to discern weather while being unable to see the significance of the present age (Luke 12,54-56). Thus, the Lukan context may again have influenced Dodd’s classification of the material derived from Q 12,57-59 as being parabolic.6 The other additional units that Dodd classifies as parables are perhaps more problematic, but reflect his very open-ended definition of a parable. The eschatological teaching in Q 17,34-35 about one being taken while another is left (either from a shared bed or a common place of milling) is not presented as a metaphorical parallel reality that elucidates an underlying truth. Rather, according to the Jesus of Q, this is an accurate depiction of the eschatological future. The gnomic saying contained in Q 17,37 (//Matt 24,28) is notoriously difficult, and the basis for categorizing it as a parable is not compelling. Having discussed the ‘one taken, one left’ tradition, Dodd states of the ‘eagles and carcass’ saying, ‘[e]ven more clearly parabolic is the other saying which Luke gives immediately after this one, and which Matthew appends to the saying about the lightning 6

Dodd speaks of the pre-gospel form of the tradition dealing with the defendant as being a parable prior to entering either the Matthean or Lukan context. He states, ‘[t]he two evangelists have evidently taken this parable from a common source.’ Moreover, in terms of the meaning of the parable at the Q level, Dodd notes that ‘this is one of the parables transmitted without any application: neither evangelist has explicitly supplied one. The contexts however in which they have placed the parable indicate how they intended it to be applied.’ DODD, The Parables of the Kingdom (see n. 4), p. 136.

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flash.’7 Dodd’s more extensive list is, therefore, the result of two factors. First, looking at the parables in their canonical form with expanded redactional material, and also due to his broad definition of parables: They are the natural expression of a mind that sees truth in concrete picture rather than conceives it in abstractions.… At its simplest the parable is a metaphor or simile drawn from nature or common life, arresting the hearer by its vividness or strangeness, and leaving the mind in sufficient doubt about its precise application to tease it into active thought.8

In effect, for Dodd, the parable is an image used for comparative purposes, which generates thought in the mind of the recipient. Such a broad definition results in an extended list of passages that are classified as being parables. 1.2. Joachim Jeremias, The Parables of Jesus (6th edition, 1962) One of the major developments in parable research between the publication of Dodd’s influential work and the landmark study of Jeremias was the discovery of the extensive 114 saying form of the Gospel of Thomas in Coptic at Nag Hammadi. Jeremias characterizes this as being of signal importance since, ‘the Gospel of Thomas provides us with an independent tradition for eleven of the synoptic parables.’9 Tabulating these Thomasine parables against four strands of the synoptic tradition, ‘Mark, Material common to Matt.-Luke, Special Matt., and Special Luke’, Jeremias states that the Gospel of Thomas has independent traditions that parallel four of the eight parables in material common to Matthew and Luke.10 Unfortunately, however, at this point in his discussion Jeremias does not list the eight double tradition parables. He does provide a list of the eleven Thomasine parables, and from this list combined with the page references to discussions later in the book it is possible to identify the four double-tradition parables that Jeremias views as being paralleled in Thomas.11 These, in the order they occur in Thomas, are the parables of the 7

D ODD, The Parables of the Kingdom (see n. 4), p. 88. D ODD, The Parables of the Kingdom (see n. 4), pp. 15-16. 9 J. J EREMIAS, The Parables of Jesus, eng. trans. S. H. Hooke of 6th (based on German ed.), rev. ed., London: SCM Press 1963, p. 24. 10 J EREMIAS, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 9), p. 24. 11 The eleven Thomasine parables with parallels in the synoptic material are: The Sower (Gos. Thom. 9); The Mustard Seed (Gos. Thom. 20); The Burglar (Gos. Thom. 21b, 103); The Tares and the Wheat (Gos. Thom. 57); The Rich Fool (Gos. Thom. 63); The Great Supper (Gos. Thom. 64); The Wicked Husbandman (Gos. Thom. 65); The Pearl (Gos. Thom. 76); The Leaven (Gos. Thom. 96); The Lost Sheep (Gos. Thom. 133); The Treasure (Gos. Thom. 109). See J EREMIAS, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 9), p. 24. In addition Jeremias also notes four Thomasine parables that have no parallel in the canonical gospels: The Great Fish (Gos. Thom. 8); The Little Children in the Field (Gos. 8

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Burglar (Q 12,39-40), the Great Supper (Q 14,16-21.23), the Leaven (Q 13,20-21), and the Lost Sheep (Q 15,4-5.7). Turning to Jeremias’ ‘Index of Synoptic Parables’,12 one is able to identify the other double tradition parables that Jeremias enumerates as part of his eight examples. These are: Going before the Judge (Q 12,58-59), the Children in the Market Place (Q 7,31-35), the Return of the unclean Spirit (Q 11,24-26), the servant entrusted with supervision (Q 12,42-46), and the Talents (Q 19,12-27). Here Jeremias lists five further parables, in addition to the four double tradition parables with Thomasine parallels, which contrary to his earlier count appears to produce a list of nine Q parables. There are two further parables that Jeremias discusses that were contained in the text of The Critical Edition of Q that he does not classify as double tradition parables. The first is Mustard Seed, which is listed as a triple tradition parable with a Thomasine parallel, ‘Mark 4.30-32/Matt. 13.31f./Luke 13.18f./Thomas 20’.13 Apart from comparisons with Thomas, Jeremias largely ignores source critical questions. While Matthew and Luke are seen as introducing ‘touches of eschatological colour to both parables’ of the Mustard and Leaven, or as having ‘preserved them as a double form’,14 Jeremias does not consider the possibility that the Markan form may be independent from the Q and Thomasine forms which have the double parable arrangement. In fact, the Mustard Seed is typically seen as a Mark-Q overlap text, and Fleddermann argues that the Markan form is secondary.15 The second parable that is included in Jeremias’ list that is found in The Critical Edition of Q is the Lost Coin (Q 15,8-10). The reason why Jeremias did not classify this as a double tradition parable is self-evident; the Lost Coin is Lukan Sondergut material (Luke 15,8-10). Consequently its inclusion in certain Q reconstructions is not uncontroversial, being questioned by various scholars. Setting aside at this stage a discussion of whether the Lost Coin should be included in Q, the passages that Jeremias discusses as being parables that overlap with material contained in The Critical Edition of Q are as follows: 1. 2. 3. 4.

Q 6,47-49 Q 7,31-35 Q 11,24-26 Q 12,39-40

The The The The

Two Builders Children in the Market Place Return of the Unclean Spirit Unexpected Thief

Thom. 21); The Careless Woman (Gos. Thom. 97); The Slayer (Gos. Thom. 98). See ibid., p. 24, n. 6. 12 J EREMIAS, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 9), pp. 247-248. 13 J EREMIAS, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 9), p. 247. 14 J EREMIAS, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 9), pp. 147-148. 15 H. T. F LEDDERMANN, Mark and Q: A Study of the Overlap Texts (BEThL 122), Leuven: Peeters 1995, p. 96.

The Q Parables 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12.

Q 12,42-46 Q 12,58-59 Q 13,18-19 Q 13,20-21 Q 14,16-21.23 Q 15,4-5.7 Q 15,8-10 Q 19,12-13.15-24.26

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The Faithful Servant Going Before the Judge The Mustard Seed The Leaven The Wedding Banquet The Lost Sheep The Lost Coin The Talents/Pounds

In comparison with the initial list of ten possible pericopae in Q that might be classified as being parables, Jeremias includes two further items, the parable of Going to the Judge (Q 12,58-59) and the Return of the Unclean Spirit (Q 11,24-26). In relation to the first of these two items he agrees with Dodd, who titles this the parable of the Defendant, and adjudges this to be a parable.16 Dodd comments that ‘this is one of the parables transmitted without any application.’17 However, Dodd loads the parable with application, stating that in the Matthean context it teaches ‘the importance of always being ready and anxious to take the first step towards the healing of a quarrel between neighbours’, whereas in Luke it refers ‘to the urgency of taking the right step in the face of the tremendous crisis which he has depicted’.18 Despite these suggestions to make Matt 5,25-26 or Luke 12,58-59 align more closely with the respective contexts, one does wonder if the sense of this material is precisely what it says, for Jesus’ followers to avoid being hauled before the quasi-legal authorities of their day by being reconciled with an adversary. Admittedly the placement of this material in both its Matthean and Lukan contexts resonates with the themes of the surrounding material. Given passages such as the Woes, the outlook of Q appears to address, not a parabolic situation of adversarial opposition, but a reality of coming into conflict with hostile critics. In this sense the material may be better understood as teaching addressed towards a concrete situation not by employing a metaphorical image, but through describing the reality of hostile opposition. Jeremias, while still describing this tradition as a parable, recognizes that the saying about going before a judge reflects more mundane advice in its Matthean context ‘as a direction for the conduct of life, and there is no denying that the reason for such a direction sounds perilously near triviality’.19 As suggested above, rather than being a banality, this material may address a pressing situation either for Matthean or Q believers. By contrast, 16

DODD, The Parables of the Kingdom (see n. 4), pp. 136-139. DODD, The Parables of the Kingdom (see n. 4), p. 136. 18 DODD, The Parables of the Kingdom (see n. 4), pp. 137-138. 19 J EREMIAS, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 9), p. 43. 17

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Jeremias sees this material as functioning more closely to its original parabolic intent in its Lukan context. Hence he states, ‘Luke is right: the parable is an eschatological one, a parable of crisis. The crisis is imminent, the final crisis of history. The opportunity must be seized before it is too late.’20 While this parable comes at the conclusion of a Lukan section on eschatological instruction, and is not totally discordant with that theme, Luke also emphasizes judicial elements. The Lukan redactional introduction ‘but why do you not judge for yourselves what is right?’ (Luke 12,57), perhaps moves the emphasis away from eschatological ideas. Moreover, Luke is attuned to the juridical aspect of this tradition, since as Fleddermann notes, ‘Luke twice substituted πράκτωρ for Q’s ὑπέρετης, again to bring the pericope into line with Hellenistic-Roman legal practice in which πράκτωρ was the technical term for the jailor of a debtors’ prison.’21 Hence, both Dodd and Jeremias attempt to generate an applied meaning for this tradition rather than taking the surface meaning as the intended sense. By presenting an implied narrative as standing behind this material the fictive story element is introduced into the tradition. Therefore, this allows the tradition to be interpreted as functioning as a parable. 1.3. Bernard B. Scott, Hear Then the Parable (1989) Scott commences his investigation by squarely acknowledging the difficulty in defining the object being studied, namely, the parable. Three preliminary issues are raised in seeking a definition for the parables of Jesus. He states, ‘(1) They belong to literary type the Hebrews called mashal that involve distinct yet related genres. (2) Jesus and the rabbis developed and employed a genre of mashal not evidenced in the Hebrew Bible. (3) We designate and distinguish this type in ways the ancients did not.’22 After reflecting on this set of three intertwined issues, Scott offers a lengthy definition of the term parable in relation to its usage in the NT gospels. The key aspects of his extended definition are presented here: (1) A parable is a mashal; mashal defines the genus of which parable is one species. (2) A parable is a short narrative fiction. This initially differentiates parables from other meshalim like proverbs, riddles, sentences of the wise, and so forth. (3) What a parable does is reference. I have deliberately chosen a neutral verb to deal with the transference involved in parable, for this raises the issue of whether a parable is a metaphor or allegory. 20

J EREMIAS, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 9), p. 44. H. T. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (Biblical Tools and Studies 1), Leuven: Peeters 2005, p. 655. 22 B. B. SCOTT, Hear Then the Parable: A Commentary on the Parables of Jesus, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 1989, pp. 7-8. 21

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(4) What a parable references is a symbol. In Jesus’ parables the symbol is the kingdom of God. 23

In many ways, the precision involved in this definition unsurprisingly reduces the corpus of material that Scott considers as belonging to the category of parables. From the list of parables generated by Scott, it is possible to extract those that overlap with material in The Critical Edition of Q. The list that results is the shortest among those of the scholars surveyed in this discussion. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Q 12,42-46 Q 13,18-19 Q 13,20-21 Q 14,16-21.23 Q 15,4-5.7 Q 15,8-10 Q 19,12-13.15-24.26

The Faithful Servant The Mustard Seed The Leaven The Wedding Banquet The Lost Sheep The Lost Coin The Talents/Pounds

The three that are missing from the preliminary list proposed here are the Two Builders (Q 6,47-49), the Children in the Market Place (Q 7,31-35), and the Unexpected Thief (Q 12,39-40). Since Scott does not discuss these texts, it is difficult to understand his reasons for not including them as parables. Looking at these three together it appears that they each lack the fourth requirement of Scott’s definitional formula: that is they do not reference the kingdom of God. With the Two Builders (Q 6,47-49) the referent is the one who hears Jesus’ words (Matt 7,24//Luke 7,47). Similarly, with the Children in the Market Place (Q 7,31-35) the comparison is with ‘this generation’ (Matt 11,16//Luke 7,31). However, with the Unexpected Thief (Q 12,39-40) while the language of formal comparison is absent, nonetheless the figure of the unexpected burglar parallels the unknown hour of the return of the Son of Man, and this parousia event could be understood as part of the arrival of the kingdom. While the tradition in Q 12,39-40 is not explicitly described as a parable, when Luke takes up this material in his own narrative he places the following redactional question on the lips of Peter: ‘Lord, are you saying this parable to us or also to everybody?’ (Luke 12,41). Hence Scott’s decision not to class this as a parable, because of the lack of an explicit reference to the kingdom of God, appears to be contrary to the perspective of the Lukan form of the tradition.24 23 This is an abbreviated citation of Scott’s larger definition. See SCOTT, Hear Then the Parable (see n. 22), p. 8. 24 In relation to Lk 12,41 Scott comments that ‘[h]ere parabolē equals mashal proverb in the sense of warning.’ SCOTT, Hear Then the Parable (see n. 22), p. 27.

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However, even among the seven parables discussed by Scott only four explicitly reference the kingdom of God. These are the Mustard Seed and the Leaven (Q 13,18-21) which are both introduced with a direct reference to the kingdom, as well as the Matthean form of the banquet parable (Matt 22,2) and the Lukan form of the entrusted money (Luke 19,12), where there is a reference to a man taking a ‘kingdom’. Of the other three, any comparison with the kingdom is at best implied. Thus the contrast between the faithful and the unfaithful slaves illustrates the eschatological rewards that will be meted out when the Lord returns at an unexpected time. The Matthean form of the parable of the lost sheep may have a kingdom referent. By a somewhat circuitous argument one could see it explicating the discussion about the one who is greatest in the kingdom of heaven (Matt 18,4), but such a suggestion is an exegetical stretch. Maybe more helpful is the reference to ‘the will of your father in heaven’ (Matt 18,14), although this is unparalleled in Luke. Similarly with the Lost Coin, which occurs only in Luke 15,8-10, perhaps speaking to the ‘angels of God’ (Luke 15,8) could be seen as an oblique reference to the kingdom. In relation to the parables of the Lost Sheep and the Lost Coin, Scott argues that they need to be read at three levels within the Lukan narrative. However, while suggesting that there is a pre-Lukan kernel he does not identify this as the Q form of the parable.25 1.4. Arland J. Hultgren, The Parables of Jesus (2000) For Hultgren the distinctive feature of parables is that they communicate and teach by means of comparison. Therefore, as a primary description Hultgren notes that ‘[b]y means of parables Jesus – and others before and after him – carried on instruction by making comparisons between eternal, transcendental realities and that which was familiar to the common human experience of his day.’26 In terms of the number of parables, Hultgren notes there are fourteen parables in the Gospel of Thomas of which ten are paralleled in the Synoptic Gospels. In addition, he discusses the difficulty of determining the number contained in the three Synoptic Gospels. At the most generous estimate and employing a wide definition, he notes that

25

For Scott the three levels are: as a subpart of the larger Gospel narrative – here the story justifies Jesus’ association with sinners; at the third level the separate parables have their own separate characters and plots; at the second or intermediate level – the complete narrative of chapter 15 – interpretation takes place and allows the intertwining of the meaning of the stories at the first and third levels. SCOTT, Hear Then the Parable (see n. 22), pp. 100-104, 407-408. 26 A. J. HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus: A Commentary (The Bible in its World), Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 2000, p. 2.

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some scholars have identified more than sixty parables.27 However, a more standard estimate is in the range of ‘roughly three or four dozen’.28 Hultgren himself identifies ‘at least thirty-eight units within the Synoptic Gospels that can be designated as parables’.29 This enumeration is based on the following definition and the identification of two main types of parables. A parable is a figure of speech in which a comparison is made between God’s kingdom, actions, or expectations and something in this world, real or imagined. There are two types of parables: 1. Narrative parables: the parables made include narration; these parables typically have a “once upon a time” quality about them and the particularity of stories set in the past. 2. Similitudes: the comparisons are made without stories but means of the words “is like” or “is as if”; analogies are made between their subjects and general and timeless observations. 30

This categorization provides a helpful insight into the reasons why Hultgren classifies those pericopae in his list that overlap with text in The Critical Edition of Q as being parables. Hultgren organizes the Synoptic parables under seven headings (as well as a final chapter treating the four unique Thomasine parables31). However, potential examples of Q parables are not found under all of the seven headings. The categories in which potential Q parables are found according to Hultgren’s classification are: parables of the revelation of God (under the sub-category of God’s extraordinary love for the lost); parables of wisdom; parables of life before God; allegorical parables; parables of the kingdom. In other words Q parables are found in five of the seven categories set up by Hultgren, but not in the two groups he labels as parables of exemplary behaviour (four Lukan parables), or parables of final judgment (three Matthean parables).32 However among potential parables that might be classified as belonging to Q, it should be noted that Hultgren treats the talents (Matt 25,14-30) and the pounds (Luke 19,12-27) as well as the great banquet (Luke 14,16-24) and the wedding feast (Matt 22,1-14) as separate parables. Leaving that issue aside initially, those parables that overlap with The Critical Edition of Q include: 27

Manson is cited as the example of the scholar with the highest count. He includes doublets and arrives at a total of sixty-five. T. W. MANSON, The Teaching of Jesus: Studies of its Form and Content, 2nd ed., Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1935, p. 69. 28 HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 26), p. 3. 29 HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 26), p. 3. 30 HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 26), p. 3. 31 HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 26), pp. 440-449. 32 HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 26), pp. vii-ix.

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Q 6,47-49 Q 7,31-35 Q 11,11-13 Q 12,42-46 Q 13,18-19 Q 13,20-21 Q 14,16-21.23 Q 15,4-5.7 Q 15,8-10 Q 19,12-13.15-24.26

The Two Builders The Children in the Market Place The Father’s Good Gifts The Faithful Servant The Mustard Seed The Leaven The Wedding Banquet The Lost Sheep The Lost Coin The Talents/Pounds

This list of ten potential Q parables deviates from the ten parables listed at the commencement of this discussion in two ways. First, Hultgren does not include the pericope of the unexpected thief (Q 12,39-40) as being an example of a parable. However, in the context of his discussion of ‘the Parable of the Faithful and Wise Manager (12:42-46)’ the preceding is described as ‘a parabolic saying concerning the thief’ that ‘correspond[s] to the coming of the Son of man (12:39-40)’.33 The precise difference between a parable and a parabolic saying is not entirely clear, and may relate to nothing more than a judgment about the required length and complexity of the narrative element of this unit. The second difference in the list is the inclusion of what Hultgren entitles ‘the Father’s good gifts’ (i.e. Matt 7,79//Luke 11,11-13). For Hultgren it is the presence of a similitude that justifies classifying this material as a parable. In each Gospel the similitude consists of only two verses (Matt 7:9-10//Luke 11:11-12) – two questions, which are to be answered by an emphatic negative reply – followed by an application (Matt 7:11//Luke 11:13). The application completes (as in an inclusio) the theme of asking in prayer expressed earlier (Q, Matt 7:7//Luke 11:9).34

Here the similitude is seen as functioning through the implied comparison between the earthly father giving good things to his son, and the assurance that the heavenly will do likewise for his children. One residual issue remains in considering Hultgren’s classification of parables in relation to Q material, namely his understanding of source critical issues surrounding four of the pericope in the list. These are the Mustard Seed (Q 13,18-19), the Wedding Banquet/Great Feast (Q 14,1621.23), the Lost Coin (Q 15,8-10), and the Talents/Pounds (Q 19,12-13.1524.26). In relation to the Mustard Seed, Hultgren argues that Matthew and Luke did not make use of Mark alone. Therefore, he concludes that ‘in addition to Mark’s version, a Q version existed as well.’35 He views Luke 33

HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 26), p. 268. HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 26), p. 236. 35 HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 26), p. 393. 34

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as closely reflecting the Q form, whereas Matthew has conflated the Markan and Q forms. In other words, Hultgren is of the opinion that the Mustard Seed is one of the Mark-Q overlap texts. With the parable of the Lost Coin (Luke 15,8-10), Hultgren is of the opinion that it derives from pre-Lukan source material, although he notes that ‘some have claimed that he obtained it in a more primitive form from Q, and it has even been proposed that Luke himself may have composed it as a sequel to the parable of the Lost sheep.’36 From these comments it is apparent that Hultgren does not regard the Lost Coin as Q material, but sees the pericope as Lukan Sondergut tradition. The parallel forms of the Wedding Banquet/Great Feast (Q 14,16-21.23) and the Talents/Pounds (Q 19,12-13.15-24.26) are discussed together since they pose the same methodological problem. Hultgren treats each of the Matt//Luke parallels in these two pairs separately. In relation to the parables of the Talents and that of the Pounds his source critical assessment is that ‘[s]ince the two are so different in detail, they can be considered to come from special Matthean (M) and special Lukan (L) traditions respectively, rather than from Q.’37 While the source critical issues are seen as more finely balance with the parables of the great banquet (Luke 14,26-24) and the wedding feast (Matt 22,1-14), ultimately Hultgren advocates that the two are derived from independent written sources. Some interpreters have asserted or concluded that Matthew and Luke derived their parables from Q and edited them in significant ways (leaving Matt 22:11-14 aside). Others consider the versions so diverse that the evangelists must have drawn their respective parables from their own special traditions (M and L). The latter judgment is accepted here.38

So of the four cases discussed here, Hultgren excludes the Lost Coin (Luke 15,8-10) from Q, as also he does with material that he would not consider as being two parallels but four separate parables: the Talents (Matt 25,1430) and the Pounds (Luke 19,12-27) as well as the Great Banquet (Luke 14,16-24) and the Wedding Feast (Matt 22,1-14). However, the parable of the Mustard Seed is seen as having a separate distinct Q form. Therefore, Hultgren assigns the following seven parables to Q: 1. The Two Builders (Q 6,47-49); 2. The Children in the Market Place (Q 7,3135); 3. The Father’s Good Gifts (Q 11,11-13); 4. The Faithful Servant (Q 12,42-46); 5. The Mustard Seed (Q 13,18-19); 6. The Leaven (Q 13,2021); and 7. The Lost Sheep (Q 15,4-5.7).

36

HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 26), p. 64. HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 26), p. 273. 38 HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 26), pp. 334-335. 37

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1.5. Ruben Zimmermann, Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu (2007) Zimmermann’s Kompendium is different from the works of the five other scholars surveyed here in significant ways. Perhaps most importantly, unlike those other volumes, Zimmermann’s study is a multi-authored volume with a team of nearly fifty scholars writing sections dealing with individual pericopae, or addressing issues relating to the study of parables more generally.39 Zimmermann is fully attuned to the difficulties of defining the term ‘parable’. However, drawing upon recent developments in the analysis of metaphor, and employing methodological studies of genre theory from the field of literary criticism, he offers the following definition for the term ‘parable’ that is used as guiding understanding of the term throughout the Kompendium. Eine Parabel ist ein kurzer narrativer (1), fiktionaler (2) Text, der in der erzählten Welt auf bekannte Realität (3) bezogen ist, aber durch implizite oder explizite Transfersignale zu erkennen gibt, dass die Bedeutung des Erzählten vom Wortlaut des Textes zu unterscheiden ist (4). In seiner Appellstruktur (5) fordert er einen Leser bzw. eine Leserin auf, einen metaphorischen Bedeutungstransfer zu vollziehen, der durch Ko- und Kontextinformationen (6) gelenkt wird.40

Thus, in essence, for Zimmerman any example of metaphorical language (identified either through implicit or explicit transfer terminology) and drawn from the teaching of Jesus, that describes or implies a fictional narrative context should be classed as a parable. One may see the consequence of this broad definition by comparing the number of Gleichnisse identified by Zimmermann with earlier enumerations. Typically scholars have counted the number of unique parables in the canonical gospels somewhere between the thirties and the mid fifties. On Zimmermann’s own presentation of the data, Jülicher surveyed fifty-three traditions (although these were broken into various categories), Bultmann fifty-six ‘gleichnischafte Text’, Jeremias forty-one, Knoch listed thirty-six, Dormeyer thirty-six, Scott thirty-one, and Hultgren thirty-eight.41 By contrast, Zimmermann treats one hundred and four ‘Gleichnisse Jesu’, although thirteen of these are parables unique to the Gospel of Thomas, and another eight occur in various agrapha traditions. However, this still leaves eightythree texts drawn from the canonical gospels – double the number proposed by the more centrist count of Jeremias for instance. In relation to Q parables, Zimmermann tallies twenty-eight passages, from double tradition material, which are included in the Kompendium. 39

Cf. R. ZIMMERMANN et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu, Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2007. 40 R. ZIMMERMANN, Die Gleichnisse Jesu: Eine Leseanleitung zum Kompendium, in: Idem et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu (see n. 39), pp. 3-46, p. 25. 41 Cf. ZIMMERMANN, Leseanleitung (see n. 40), p. 28.

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269

This number, which is based on a standard reconstruction of the extent of the Q material, counts more than twice the number of parables in Q than the tabulations of Jeremias, Scott, Hultgren, and Snodgrass. It is also a significant expansion on the previous maximalist listing of Dodd, with sixteen parables.42 This higher count may reflect, in part, a difference in category between ‘Gleichnisse’ and ‘parables’. However, that alone does not account for the difference since earlier German scholars enumerated fewer ‘Gleichnisse’ both in the gospel tradition more widely, and the double tradition more narrowly. The following twenty-eight traditions comprise Zimmermann’s dataset of ‘Parabeln in der Logienquelle Q’:43 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

42

211.

Q 6,39 Q 6,40 Q 6,41f. Q 6,43-45 Q 6,47-49 Q 7,31-35 Q 10,2 Q 10,22 Q 11,9-13 Q 11,14-20 Q 11,24-26 Q 11,33 Q 11,34f. Q 12,24.26-28 Q 12,39f. Q 12,42-46 Q 12,54-56 Q 12,58f. Q 13,18f. Q 13,20f. Q 13,24-27 Q 14,16-23 Q 14,34f. Q 15,4-5a.7 Q 16,13 Q 17,34-35

The Blind Leading the Blind A Disciple is not above his Teacher The Speck and the Log Good and Bad Trees and Fruit The Two Builders The Children in the Market Place Harvest is Plentiful, Labourers are Few The Revelation of the Son Knock and Find/Son asking for Bread Beelzebul and Internal Divisions The Return of the Unclean Spirit Lamp on a Lampstand The Eye as Lamp of the Body Ravens and Lilies The Unexpected Thief The Faithful Servant Signs of the Weather Going Before the Judge The Mustard Seed The Leaven Enter by the Narrow Door The Wedding Banquet Savourless Salt The Lost Sheep No-one can Serve Two Masters One Taken, One Left

See above in section 1.1, and in DODD, The Parables of the Kingdom (see n. 4), p.

43 Cf. the table in ZIMMERMANN et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu (see n. 39), pp. 59-60.

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Paul Foster 27. Q 17,37 28. Q 19,12f.15-24.26

Eagles and Carcass The Talents/Pounds

This extensive list immediately raises a number of questions. The rapid staccato progression of images in Q 6,39-45 that together challenge the self-important, are dissected into four separate examples. There is no doubt that there are four images employed here in quick succession, however it is questionable whether each should be counted as a parable. In its Lukan form the tradition concerning the blind leading the blind (Luke 6,39) is introduced with the term ‘parable’. However, this is widely agreed not to have stood in Q.44 The detail of the reconstruction of the underlying Q form of the tradition is difficult in this case. In fact, Fleddermann goes so far as to suggest that the tradition contained in Luke 6,39 (and the one that follows in Luke 6,40) did not stand in Q.45 Moreover, if the invective of the Matthean version of the saying (Matt 15,14) were closer to a possible original Q form, then the saying is not a fictional narrative, but an actual piece of biting polemic that Jesus casts at his non-fictional opponents. Given the uncertainty of the form of the tradition, one is unable to detect the required features enshrined in Zimmermann’s definition with any degree of certainty.46 Similarly, the disciple and teacher saying (Q 6,40 = Matt 10,2425//Luke 6,40) raises similar issues. Some dispute its origin in Q,47 the Q form of the saying is difficult to reconstruct and hence one cannot be certain of the generic features, if the Matthean addressees were original to Q then the tradition is not so much a parable, but a piece of pedagogy illustrating humble discipleship to the Twelve.48 Also in relation to the Lukan form, a didactic purpose appears to be prominent without recourse to the genre of parables. Thus, Fitzmyer observes, ‘[v]erses 39-40 undoubtedly refer to instruction in the Christian community.’49 44 ROBINSON/H OFFMANN/KLOPPENBORG (eds.), The Critical Edition of Q (see n. 3), pp. 76-77. 45 FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), p. 295. 46 A number of these difficulties are discussed in the treatment of G. KERN, Absturzgefahr (Vom Blinden als Blindenführer) – Q 6,39, in: Zimmermann et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu (see n. 39), pp. 61-67. 47 FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), p. 295. 48 On the origin, purpose, and form of the Matthean version of this saying see W. D. D AVIES/D. C. ALLISON J R., The Gospel according to Saint Matthew, vol. 2: Commentary on Matthew VIII-XVIII (ICC), Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1991, pp. 192-193; and U. LUZ, Matthew (Hermeneia), trans. J. E. Crouch, 3 vols., Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2001, pp. 2:95-96. 49 J. A. FITZMYER, The Gospel according to Luke (AncB 28-28A), 2 vols., New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press/Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday 1981–1985, p. 1:642.

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271

These are not the only traditions in Zimmermann’s list that cause one to question whether some of the traditions classified as parables are actually category errors. Perhaps the most striking example is Q 10,22, the revelation of the son. This revelatory utterance of Jesus does not appear to reflect any of the six aspects in Zimmermann’s definition. There is no implied narrative only a revelatory saying, the text is not a fiction but a higher reality, and there is no metaphorical transfer rather one is encouraged to know the son through the father. Interestingly, this text is not treated in the Q section of the Kompendium, rather the extended and perhaps related tradition John 5,19-23 is treated in the Johannine section. 50 While Zimmermann’s treatment is genuinely compendious, it is that very inclusion of so many traditions that are susceptible to scepticism concerning the correctness of their classification as parables, or ‘Gleichnisse’, that is the cause for greatest concern. Undoubtedly, the volume has assembled numerous multivalent examples of the metaphorical language that occurs on the lips of Jesus. However, a number of the selected pericopae appear to fail Zimmermann’s own definitional test. Thus while being a maximalist reference work, the lack of differentiation between a more typical understanding of parables and that of metaphorical language more broadly creates hesitancy about accepting its classification system. Moreover, because of the polyphony of voices in the Kompendium, the analysis that follows in section three of this discussion will make reference only to the works of the other five scholars surveyed in this section. Zimmermann’s volume simply confirms that any tradition suggested by those five is a parable, as well as many others besides. 1.6. Klyne R. Snodgrass, Stories with Intent (2008) Snodgrass has produced the largest study on parables available in English. The definition of a parable emerges as an almost iterative process in the introduction. Initially it is noted that ‘a parable is not merely a story. “Parable” in its broadest sense refers to an expanded analogy.’51 Then in a very helpful series of qualifications and preliminary cautions, Snodgrass notes that, Hardly anything said about parables – whether defining them or explaining their characteristics – is true of all of them.… A parable is often defined as an illustration due to the “root fallacy” of deriving the meaning from paraballō, which means literally “to throw alongside.” From this people have viewed parables as earthly stories with heavenly 50

J. VAN DER WATT, Der Meisterschüler Gottes (Von der Lehre des Sohnes) – Joh 5,19-23, in: Zimmermann et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu (see n. 39), pp. 745-754. 51 K. R. SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent: A Comprehensive Guide to the Parables of Jesus, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 2008, p. 2.

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meanings.… Parables are much more than illustrations, and although some are concerned with future eschatology, they are not about heaven. They are directed to life on this earth.52

Therefore, the flexibility of term is recognized in these statements, as are the shortcomings of trying to define parables in terms of a single generic category or a unified thematic concern. If there is any thematic core, it is seen as revolving around the concept of ‘the kingdom’.53 Snodgrass’ contribution to defining parables is through the insight that the stories are told to generate or provoke response. Thus he draws a comparison with the prophetic oracles. ‘Like prophets before him, Jesus told parables to prompt thinking and stimulate response in relation to God.’54 Hence as the subtitle to the study announces, the parables are seen as acts of speech that have a degree of intentionality that operates in terms of convincing or persuading the recipients of the teaching. In terms of categorization of parables, Snodgrass determines not to treat aphoristic sayings (presumably because of their brevity, or perhaps because of their prevalence), he ends up ‘with six designations for parables: similitudes, interrogative parables, double indirect narrative parables, juridical parables, single indirect parables, and “how much more” parables’.55 When considering the parables that Snodgrass treats that overlap with material in The Critical Edition of Q it will also be noted to which of these six designations each case is assigned. This may highlight whether there is any preference for a certain category of parable in the Q material. Listing those parables treated by Snodgrass that are found in potential Q material results in the following eight cases: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

Q 6,47-49 Q 12,42-46 Q 13,18-19 Q 13,20-21 Q 14,16-21.23 Q 15,4-5.7 Q 15,8-10 Q 19,12-13.15-24.26

The Two Builders The Faithful Servant The Mustard Seed The Leaven The Wedding Banquet The Lost Sheep The Lost Coin The Talents/Pounds

In total Snodgrass treats thirty-three synoptic parables. He offers no explanation for why material such as the Children in the Marketplace (Q 7,31-35) does not receive coverage. In fact in his introduction, under the heading of ‘interrogative parables’, he notes that ‘[q]uestions are one of 52

SNODGRASS, SNODGRASS, 54 SNODGRASS, 55 SNODGRASS, 53

Stories Stories Stories Stories

with Intent with Intent with Intent with Intent

(see (see (see (see

n. n. n. n.

51), 51), 51), 51),

p. 7. p. 8. p. 9. p. 11.

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The Q Parables

the major ways that parables create interest and draw us in. Some parables have questions in their introductions such as “To what shall I liken this generation?” (Matt 11:16/Luke 7:31).’56 So from this statement it does appear that Snodgrass regards the tradition about the Children in the Marketplace both as a parable and as double tradition material. In fact Snodgrass acknowledges that ‘there are other parabolic sayings and a few short parables that I have chosen not to treat.’57 Unfortunately he does not list these. In a throw-away remark he also states that ‘If one accepts the four-source theory of Synoptic origins, parables make up about sixteen percent of Mark, twenty-nine percent of Q, forty-three percent of M, and fifty-two percent of L.’58 However, no indication is given for the basis of these calculations, or if they are derived from a secondary source as to where that information may be consulted. Snodgrass notes that among the thirty-three separate parables he treats that he counts ‘the parables of the Talents and of the Pounds separately and the Feast and the Wedding Banquet separately.’59 In fact in his detailed discussion Snodgrass rejects a Q origin for these parables. In relation to the Wedding Banquet and the Feast he states ‘I do not think we have two versions of the same parable.’60 Similarly with the Talents and the Pounds, it is argued that the similarities cannot be explained on the basis of a common original that developed in two directions.61 In a similar vein, the parable of the Lost Sheep is seen as representing two independent traditions.62 It also appears that the parable of the Lost Coin is not regarded as Q material, although Snodgrass only notes that ‘there are no parallels.’63 Therefore Snodgrass treats only four parables that he regards as belonging to Q and he categorizes these as follows. 1. 2. 3. 4.

Q 6,47-49 Q 12,42-46 Q 13,18-19 Q 13,20-21

The Two Builders The Faithful Servant The Mustard Seed The Leaven

interrogative parable double antithetical similitude similitude similitude

With the parable of the Mustard Seed, Snodgrass notes that most scholars posit a Markan and a Q version. However, he states, ‘I am not convinced of the existence of Q.’64 Notwithstanding this declaration, it is noted that 56

SNODGRASS, SNODGRASS, 58 SNODGRASS, 59 SNODGRASS, 60 SNODGRASS, 61 SNODGRASS, 62 SNODGRASS, 63 SNODGRASS, 64 SNODGRASS, 57

Stories Stories Stories Stories Stories Stories Stories Stories Stories

with Intent with Intent with Intent with Intent with Intent with Intent with Intent with Intent with Intent

(see (see (see (see (see (see (see (see (see

n. n. n. n. n. n. n. n. n.

51), 51), 51), 51), 51), 51), 51), 51), 51),

p. 12. p. 22. p. 22. p. 22. p. 299. p. 531. p. 103. p. 111. p. 222.

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‘Matthew and Luke are virtually identical in the final part of the parable.’65 Similarly with the parable of the Two Builders Snodgrass states that ‘without question Matthew and Luke report the same parable.’66 So he sees that this parable stems from the same source material, but he is not convinced that the source is Q. Even more positively, in regard to the parable of the Faithful or Unfaithful Servant, Snodgrass states that the ‘accounts in Matt 24:45-51 and Luke 12:42-46 are extremely close and provide a good example of reasons to argue for a “Q” source’.67 So despite Snodgrass’ hesitancy about the existence of Q, he views these five parables contained in Matthew and Luke as deriving from common source material, but not necessarily the same source in each case. Thus Snodgrass identifies five shared non-Markan parables contained in both the first and third gospels.

2. An Overview of Opinions on Q Parables The survey of scholarly views reveals a range of ideas concerning the definition of the parable genre, as well as differences of opinion in identifying Q parables. Estimates appear to range from Dodd’s maximalist identification of sixteen parables, to Snodgrass’ minimalistic listing of four parables. In total the five scholars who have produced single-authored treatments have identified a total of seventeen traditions as potential Q parables. Zimmermann’s multi-authored Kompendium agrees in classifying all of these seventeen pericopae as parables, but adds another eleven traditions to the category of Q parables. There is, so far, no widespread support for this highly enlarged listing of Q parables. Hence, here the analysis is based upon those single-authored treatments. Zimmermann’s work would serve only to further inflate the level of support for each tradition to be classed as a parable, since it does not reject any of the previously proposed pericopae from double tradition material as being a Q parable. The results of this survey of the five scholars discussed, can be represented as follows:

65

SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 51), p. 219. SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 51), p. 330. 67 SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 51), p. 496. 66

Yes Yes

Q 17,37 Eagles and Carcass

Q 19,12-13.15-24.26 Talents/Pounds

Yes

Q 14,34-35 Savourless Salt

Yes

Yes

Q 14,16-21.23 The Wedding Banquet

Q 17,34-35 One Taken, One Left

Yes

Q 13,20-21 The Leaven

Yes

Yes

Q 13,18-19 The Mustard Seed

Yes

Yes

Q 12,57-59 The Defendant

Q 15,8-10 The Lost Coin

Yes

Q 12,42-46 The Faithful Servant

Q 15,4-5.7 The Lost Sheep

No

Yes

Q 11,11-13 Son asking for Bread

Yes

Yes

Q 7,31-35 Children in the Market Place

Q 11,24-26 Return of Unclean Spirit

Yes

Q 6,47-49 The Two Builders

Q 12,39-40 The Unexpected Thief

Yes

Dodd

Q 6,41-42 The Speck and the Log

Potential Q Parables

Yes

No

No

Yes

Yes

No

Yes

Yes

Uncertain

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

No

Yes

Yes

No

Jeremias

Yes

No

No

Uncertain

Yes

No

Yes

Yes

Yes

No

Yes

No

No

No

No

No

No

Scott

No

No

No

No

Yes

Yes

No

Yes

Yes

No

Yes

No

No

Yes

Yes

Yes

No

Hultgren

Table 1: Opinions concerning Traditions that may be both Parables and Stem from Q

No

No

No

No

No

No

No

Yes

Yes

No

Yes

No

No

No

Yes (tangentially)

Yes

No

Snodgrass

60%

20%

20%

40%

80%

40%

60%

100%

80%

40%

100%

40%

20%

40%

60%/80%

80%

20%

Total % support

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Taking these seventeen traditions in sequence, it is possible to make the following general observations: 1.

Q 6,41-42 The Speck and the Log: While there is general agreement that this material stood in Q, its classification as a parable is dubious. Dodd is a lone voice in classifying this as a Q parable. This tradition should be excluded from discussions of parabolic material in Q. Q 6,47-49 The Two Builders: Four of the five scholars surveyed class this pericope as a parable belonging to double tradition material. Scott makes no reference to Matt 7,24-27//Luke 6,47-49, so it is impossible to discern his reasons for non-inclusion. Snodgrass, who is not particularly disposed to the Q hypothesis, argues for a common source.68 Q 7,31-35 Children in the Market Place: Although only three of the commentators unequivocally describe this tradition as a Q parable, Scott and Snodgrass simply do not treat it. While Scott offers no comment whatsoever, Snodgrass in his introductory material makes reference to this tradition as a parable,69 but does not analyze it within the remainder of his volume. It appears, therefore, that among those who treat this tradition there is strong support for seeing it both as a parable and as Q material. Q 11,11-13 Son asking for Bread: Among the five scholars surveyed, only Dodd and Hultgren treat this as a parable. Dodd states, ‘[t]his is the type of parable which is called by the Germans Gleichnis, i.e. similitude. It is a common type, including, for example, the Son asking for Bread,…’70 Similarly Hultgren states, ‘[t]here is no narration as in a narrative parable. Therefore the unit can be classified as a similitude, but one that contains two illustrations within it.’71 The reason why other commentators do not treat this double tradition unit as a parable appears to be that they are unconvinced that every pedagogical illustration automatically falls into the parable category. In other words the categories of simile or metaphor are broader than the genre of parables. Q 11,24-26 Return of Unclean Spirit: Only Jeremias classifies this material as a parable. Unfortunately Jeremias offers no discussion of his decision to classify this tradition as a parable. Bultmann classifies the whole section of Matt 12,22-37//Luke 11,14-23 under the heading

2.

3.

4.

5.

68

He refutes the theory that the differences require one to posit two versions of the parable. ‘Without question Matthew and Luke report the same parable … the differences are insignificant and could easily arise from the Evangelists’ editing.’ SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 51), p. 330. 69 SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 51) p. 12. 70 DODD, The Parables of the Kingdom (see n. 4), p. 17. 71 HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 26), p. 236.

The Q Parables

‘controversy dialogues and scholastic dialogues’ to which Q 11,24-26 ‘the saying about the house swept clean’ was added, thereby treating this material as a saying rather than a parable.72 By contrast, Fleddermann describes the teaching concerning the Strong Man and the Return of the Unclean Spirit as being two Q parables: ‘Jesus continues his defense with two parables.’73 Without entering into the debate as to whether Luke 11,21-22 is Q material, it should be noted that the reasons for labeling these traditions as ‘parables’ is not stated. In fairness, it is not Fleddermann’s purpose to justify generic labels, instead he notes the purpose of Luke 11,21-26, which he sees as a ‘ring composition with two longer parts flanking a brief reflective piece’.74 However, the majority of commentators do not see Q 11,2426 as being closely aligned with the parable form. Q 12,39-40 The Unexpected Thief: Both Dodd and Jeremias view this tradition as a Q parable, whereas Scott, Hultgren, and Snodgrass do not treat it as such. Jeremias’ judgment appears to be influenced by the Lukan context where a stronger case can be presented for seeing the Lukan Sondergut material in Luke 12,35-38 as a parable ‘be like men who are waiting for their master’ (Luke 12,36), to which Luke has added the eschatological sayings contained in Q 12,39-40. Furthermore, the Thomasine form of material paralleling Q 12,39-40 is also recognized by Jeremias as parabolic in nature. The Gospel of Thomas has two partial parallels to this material (G.Thom. 21,5; 103), and Jeremias observes ‘in the Gospel of Thomas the parable of the Watching Servants (cf. Luke 12,35-38) has been interwoven with the parable of the Burglar.’75 Furthermore, given the Lukan redactional comment in Luke 12,41 where Peter asks ‘Lord are you addressing this parable to us or to everyone as well?’, it is possible to see how the Lukan framing of Q 12,39-40 has influenced its classification as a parable. However, if the material in Luke 12,39-40 is considered at its pre-gospel level it appears that this eschatological material did not function as a parable in Q. Q 12,42-46 The Faithful Servant: By contrast all five scholars surveyed agree that this material is a parable. Here Jesus appears to reply to Peter’s question about the addressees of the previous parable by replying with more parabolic material. Snodgrass notes that ‘this parable, commonly classified as a parable of crisis, is a double antithet-

6.

7.

72

14.

277

73

R. BULTMANN, The History of the Synoptic Tradition, Oxford: Blackwell 1963, p.

FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), p. 484. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), p. 507. 75 J EREMIAS, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 9), p. 95. 74

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ical similitude, a syncrisis.’76 Moreover, Hultgren comments that the Matthean and Lukan accounts ‘are commonly thought to be derived from a common source (Q)’.77 8. Q 12,57-59 The Defendant: Again Dodd and Jeremias class this as a Q parable, whereas the other three scholars do not. The situation envisaged in this tradition is presented more as a hypothetical possibility, than the type of fictionalized reality that is often assumed in the narrative world of certain types of parables. Thus Snodgrass sees this material as important background for other traditions, which he treats as parables having a judicial aspect, although he does not see this unit as being a parable itself.78 This appears to be a sensible judgment. 9. Q 13,18-19 The Mustard Seed: The residual issue is whether this tradition is Q material. While Jeremias does not resolve the source critical issue, he does not doubt that the material is a parable.79 However, in relation to the question of sources, Fleddermann’s arguments for taking this as a Mark-Q overlap passage appear compelling.80 Hence it appears best to understand the Matthean and Lukan forms of the parable as being drawn from Q, rather than as a revision of Markan material. 10. Q 13,20-21 The Leaven: There is uniform agreement that this tradition is a parable. It designates itself as such, and occurs with a high level of verbatim agreement between the Matthean and Lukan forms.81 11. Q 14,16-21.23 The Wedding Banquet: Here there is no disagreement that material contained in Matt 22,2-10 and Luke 14,16-21.23 should be understood as parable material. The issue is whether the significant divergences in these two pericopae allow one to conclude that they represent the two evangelists’ modification of the same written tradition that originated in Q. In attempting to reconstruct Q, rather than identify parabolic traditions in that document Harnack made the following statement, ‘one cannot but entertain serious doubt as to whether the passage belongs to Q – indeed whether the two versions are directly dependent upon any single common source.’82 It is for similar reasons that both Hultgren and Snodgrass treat the Wedding 76

SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 51), p. 494. HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 26), p. 159. 78 SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 51), pp. 62, 258, 454. 79 J EREMIAS, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 9), pp. 146-148. 80 FLEDDERMANN, Mark and Q (see n. 15), pp. 90-99. 81 R. MORGENTHALER, Statistische Synopse, Zürich: Gotthelf-Verlag 1971, pp. 256258. 82 A. VON HARNACK, The Sayings of Jesus: The Second Source of St. Matthew and St. Luke (NTS 2), London: G. P. Putnam’s Sons/New York, N.Y.: Williams & Norgate 1908, p. 118. 77

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279

Banquet and the Great Banquet as separate parables. This is a particularly vexed issue in the reconstruction of Q, and if one is persuaded that these two divergent traditions draw upon a Q original it seems appropriate to acknowledge that the level of confidence for such an opinion is far lower than is the case for the parable of the Leven. 12. Q 14,34-35 Savourless Salt: Among the five scholars surveyed only Dodd and Hultgren treat this tradition as a parable. Bultmann appears somewhat undecided as to how best to classify this material. Initially he treats Luke 14,34-35 under the section on wisdom logia and asks ‘were the sayings about salt and light in Matt. 513, 14f.; Lk. 1434f., 1133 or Mk 950, 421 in their origin proverbs of a secular “wisdom”?’83 Yet later he entertains the possibility that Luke 14,34-35 should be understood as a similitude because of the ‘use of comparisons and images’ and that in relation to Luke 14,34 that the ‘meaning is apparent from the metaphor itself’.84 13. Q 15,4-5.7 The Lost Sheep: There is widespread support among the five scholars surveyed, and more widely, that this tradition is a Q parable. Although Fleddermann understands this material as a Q parable, he does note the divergences in the parallel accounts. He states ‘Matthew and Luke present very different texts of the Lost Sheep. Both radically altered the original parable to adapt it to the contents of their gospels.’85 Despite these redactional differences, the parable of the Lost Sheep is one of the most secure entries in a listing of Q parables. However, as a dissenting voice, Snodgrass sees the Matthean and Lukan forms as representing two independent and equally valid traditions.86 14. Q 15,8-10 The Lost Coin: Opinions about this parable being Q material differ radically. Kloppenborg has presented strong arguments for including this unique Lukan tradition in the corpus of Q material. Among these are the existence of a Thomasine parallel which is seen as pointing to a pre-Lukan origin, the ethos of the Lost Coin is seen as pointing to ‘the poor village or small-town environment otherwise thought to reflect the situation in Q’, and Matthew employs the Lost Sheep to emphasize a pastoral exhortation whereas the Lost Coin does not fit this theological concern.87 However, many others disagree and

83

BULTMANN, The History of the Synoptic Tradition (see n. 72), p. 98. BULTMANN, The History of the Synoptic Tradition (see n. 72), p. 168. 85 FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), p. 766. 86 SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 51), pp. 103-104. 87 J. S. K LOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q: The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press/Edinburgh: T & T Clark 2000, pp. 96-98. 84

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see this is special Lukan material,88 which the third evangelist has thematically combined with the parable of the lost sheep, and his other Sondergut tradition concerning the prodigal son (Luke 15,11-32). 15. Q 17,34-35 One Taken, One Left: Among the five commentators surveyed, only Dodd treats this unit as a parable, however, he shows some hesitancy about classifying these Q sayings as parables. Ultimately he entertains that possibility dependent on the source history of the sayings. He states, ‘If however the two sayings had no connection (as is very possible, for even “Q” is admittedly a compilation of originally independent sayings), we should naturally take the saying “one taken and the other left” as a true parable, and the question of its application would be an open one.’89 Regardless of the correctness of Dodd’s source critical ideas, this would appear to suggest that the saying does not function as a parable at the Q level. Instead, in the context of Q the tradition is not a metaphor or simile, but a depiction of actual eschatological events. Hence the apocalyptic separation envisaged here is presented as a future reality. Thus it is not a parabolic image of apocalyptic separation, as is the case in the Matthean eschatological parable of the Sheep and the Goats (Matt 25,31-46). 16. Q 17,37 Eagles and Carcass: Again Dodd is the only scholar among the group of five to treat this as a parable. He is even stronger in his claim that Q 17,37 should be understood as a parable than for the case of Q 17,34-35. He states, ‘Even more clearly parabolic is the other saying which Luke gives immediately after this one, and Matthew appends to the saying about the lightning flash.’90 The meaning of the Corpse Saying is notoriously hard to determine. 91 However, while an image is employed to answer, at least to some extent, the ‘where’ question of the parousia, the use of imagery does not automatically make the saying a parable. 17. Q 19,12-13.15-24.26 Talents/Pounds: This example closely parallels the example of the Great Feast/Wedding Banquet (Matt 22,2-10// Luke 14,16-21.23). There is no doubt concerning the parabolic nature of this tradition, or traditions. The issue at stake is whether the parallels (Matt 25,14-30//Luke 19,12-26) originate from a common source and whether that source is Q. Hultgren simply asserts that ‘Since the two are so 88

Fitzmyer suggests that ‘Luke more likely found the first parable (lost sheep) in “Q” and may either have found the other (lost coin) in “L” or have freely composed the parallel.’ FITZMYER, The Gospel according to Luke (see n. 49), p. 2:1073. 89 DODD, The Parables of the Kingdom (see n. 4), p. 87. 90 DODD, The Parables of the Kingdom (see n. 4), p. 87. 91 See G. H ARB, The Meaning of Q 17:37: Problems, Opinions and Perspectives, Society of Biblical Literature Annual Meeting Atlanta, Ga., 21 November 2010.

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different in detail, they can be considered to have come from special Matthean (M) and special Lukan (L) traditions, respectively, rather than from Q.’92 Streeter postulated an M and Q form, with Matthew conflating the sources and Luke preserving ‘approximately the Q form’.93 The aim here is not to resolve this genuine source critical conundrum, but to illustrate the potential problems that accompany attempts to assign this tradition to a corpus of Q parables. In analyzing the seventeen units that various scholars have classified as Q parables, it is suggested that these traditions can be categorized into three groups. Those that are highly likely to both belong to Q and to be parables, those for which a possible case can be advanced for meeting those twin criteria, and finally those which are unlikely to be Q parables, either since the tradition is not likely to be part of Q or more frequently because the classification as a parable is not strong. The percentages in table 1 may be employed as a useful but perhaps not rigid guide. In general traditions with 80-100% support can be placed in the category of high probability, those with 60% support as tradition that are possibly Q parables, and those in with 40% or less support as having low probability as being Q parables. Table 2: Categorization of Q Parables Pericope 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

92

The Two Builders (Q 6,47-49) Children in the Market Place (Q 7,31-35) The Faithful Servant (Q 12,42-46) The Mustard Seed (Q 13,18-19) The Leaven (Q 13,20-21) The Lost Sheep (Q 15,4-5.7)

Probability level High Probability

1. The Wedding Banquet (Q 14,16-21.23) 2. Talents/Pounds (Q 19,12-13.15-24.26)

Medium Probability

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Low Probability

The Speck and the Log (Q 6,41-42) Son asking for Bread (Q 11,11-13) Return of Unclean Spirit (Q 11,24-26) The Unexpected Thief (Q 12,39-40) The Defendant (Q 12,57-59) Savourless Salt (Q 14,34-35)

HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 26), p. 273. B. H. STREETER, The Four Gospels: A Study of Origins, London: Macmillan 1924, p. 282. 93

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Probability level

7. The Lost Coin (Luke 15,8-10) 8. One Taken, One Left (Q 17,34-35) 9. Eagles and Carcass (Q 17,37)

The one deviation from following the percentages generated from counting the opinions of the five scholars, is the inclusion of the parable of the Children in the Market Place (Q 7,31-35) as having a high probability of being a Q parable, rather than placing it in the medium range although only three out of five scholars explicitly support it as such. This decision is made on the basis that Scott and Snodgrass simply do not treat this tradition, and offer no justification for not treating it as a parable. Among the three scholars in the sample who do discuss this tradition, Dodd, Jeremias, and Hultgren, all take this to be a Q parable.94

3. The Function of High Probability Q Parables The six Q parables that fall into this category cover a diversity of subject matter, and encompass a variety of thematic issues. Apart from the closely related parables of the Mustard Seed and the Leven, the individual parables do not necessarily inform the meanings of the others. The Two Builders (Q 6,47-49) occurs as the finale to Q’s sermon, and is presented as an illustration that further clarifies the saying in Q 6,46 ‘but why do you call me “Lord, Lord”, and do not do what I say? 95 The one that ‘does’ what the Lord says is compared to the wise builder (Q 6,47-48). Manson emphasizes the element of crisis found in the parable: ‘in the day of stress and crisis the one man stands firm and the other goes under. What this crisis is we can only conjecture.’96 Thus, while the parable is introduced as a further critique of the plaintive christological cry of ‘Lord, Lord’, it also contains an element of cataclysmic crisis that might reflect wider eschatological concerns found elsewhere in Q. This link between christology and eschatology is emphasized by Fleddermann when he states:

94

Snodgrass refers, tangentially, to this tradition as a parable and cites its biblical references as Matt 11,16/Luke 7,31, suggesting that he sees it as double tradition, and hence Q material. SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 51), p. 12. 95 FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), p. 333. 96 T. W. MANSON, The Sayings of Jesus as recorded in the Gospels according to St. Matthew and St. Luke arranged with Introduction and Commentary, London: SCM Press 1949, p. 61.

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The judgment theme begun in John’s Preaching surfaces once again. Those who do the kingdom demands will stand in the judgment, those who don’t will fall. The Beatitudes and the Two Houses frame the Sermon with eschatology. Jesus’ teaching on human conduct unfolds against the background of christology and eschatology. 97

Hence the parable is used to illustrate a christological saying, but in the process introduces the eschatological perspective found elsewhere in the Q document. Whereas the parable of the Two Builders is introduced to illustrate a corrective to an incorrect christological affirmation, the parable of the Children in the Market Place portrays the fickle responses of those who reject the Baptist for alleged asceticism, while simultaneously rejecting the Son of Man because of perceived hedonism. The parable includes a critique of ‘this generation’, which is an important thematic concern in Q. The concern about the non-responsive attitude of ‘this generation’ to both the preaching of John and Jesus is closely linked to the imminent eschatology of coming judgment, although in Q 7,31-35 the primary concern is with the responses John and Jesus evoke.98 While there has been discussion concerning the exact meaning of this parable,99 its general point has been consistently understood as a critique of this generation as having rejected both ‘the different messengers and the messages given to it by Jesus and John’.100 The parable of the Faithful Servant (Q 12,42-46) has structural similarities with the Two Builders in that it provides both a positive (Q 12,43-44) and a negative example (Q 12,45-46). Furthermore, like Q 6,4749 these positive and negative examples of deeds are linked to κύριος language. Other wider Q themes that come to the fore in this parable are the notions of parousia delay (‘my Lord is delayed’ Q 12,45), and differentiated eschatological rewards (Q 12,44.46). Hence Fleddermann comments on this concatenation of themes by stating that ‘the delay of the parousia opens up a time for the Christian to demonstrate their fidelity to the absent Lord. Any who use the delay to avoid their responsibility face only punishment.’101 The close link between the parables of the Mustard Seed (Q 13,18-19) and the Leaven (Q 13,20-21) has resulted in this complex of sayings being seen as a double parable that emphasizes the same theme of the hiddenness

97

FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), pp. 334-335. C. M. TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity: Studies on Q, Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1996, p. 176. 99 J EREMIAS, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 9), pp. 160-162. 100 TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity (see n. 98), p. 177. 101 FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), p. 637. 98

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of the kingdom.102 Hultgren develops this point further when he states that these parables ‘are all concerned about the kingdom of God, and they provide pictorial contrasts between tiny beginnings and grand, magnificent endings’.103 However, various commentators have also noted an important eschatological theme contained in these parables. In relation to the Mustard Seed, Snodgrass states, ‘we hear the voice of Jesus asserting a vital and central element of his eschatology, his understanding of what God was doing to set things right.’104 In relation to the Leaven, Snodgrass notes its teleological perspective, and observes that the focus is on ‘the hidden beginning which will result in the completion of God’s work in the kingdom, the leavening of the whole’.105 So while these parables announce that the present hiddenness of the kingdom is not the ultimate way to judge its significance, they also counterbalance that present perspective through proclaiming the eschatological reality of the kingdom’s full future revelation. The final parable that can be assigned to Q with a high level of confidence is that of the Lost Sheep (Q 15,4-5.7). Fleddermann argues that two theological foci are combined in the Q form of this parable. ‘Q constantly intertwines christology and discipleship, the two main themes of the gospel genre. The Lost Sheep connects the two themes by presenting the Lord’s care for his disciples in a vivid image.’106 The redactional themes introduced by the evangelists in their concluding applications reflect theological concerns found more widely in the two gospels. Thus for Luke the notion of ‘repentance’ (Luke 15,7) is a particular emphasis found in the third gospel (µετανοέω Matt, three times: Mark, twice: Luke, nine times). By contrast, the Matthean conclusion, which emphasizes ‘the will of your Father in heaven’ (Matt 18,14), is recognizable as language typical of the first evangelist. Therefore, the parable emphasizes both the shepherd’s unremitting search for the lost, and the concomitant joy in heaven when such a lost one is restored. Fleddermann sees the parable resonating with Q’s wider depiction of the Son of Man’s ‘final coming as eschatological judge and savior’.107 While this is possible, eschatological language or themes are not prominent in the parable itself.

102

This point is made by Jeremias (among others) who notes that the ‘parables of the Mustard Seed and the Leaven are so closely connected by their content that it seems necessary to discuss them together.’ J EREMIAS, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 9), p. 146. 103 HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 26), p. 395. 104 SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 51), p. 222. 105 SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 51), pp. 223-235. 106 FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), p. 775. 107 FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 21), p. 777.

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4. Conclusions Enumerating the number of parables in Q is no obvious or straightforward task. The count will depend on one’s definition or understanding of what constitutes a parable, and also on which traditions are seen as stemming from Q. While there are some fairly self-evident examples of Q parables (at least for those who support the Q hypothesis!), there are traditions that rightly occasion debate because they are either not uniformly seen as parables, or there is dispute as to whether the material is part of Q. Here it has been argued that six traditions have a high level of probability of being correctly classed as Q parables. Two other traditions, the Wedding Banquet (Q 14,16-21.23) and the Talents/Pounds (Q 19,12-13.15-24.26), may also be Q parables, but there is significant dispute concerning the inclusion of this material in Q. An issue that has not been addressed here is the problems that attend the underlying Q form of wording of these parables. It appears to be the case that parables were susceptible to substantial redactional modifications, not just in double tradition material but also in triple tradition passages.108 Therefore, such difficulties in arriving at the underlying form of the Q parables are not only unremarkable, but they align with a wider phenomenon found in the synoptic tradition. In terms of their general concerns, the Q parables are seen to reflect wider themes contained throughout Q, such as those of christology, discipleship, the nature of the kingdom, future judgment and eschatology. This may mean that Q has thoroughly stamped such redactional concerns on the parables as well as upon the rest of the material in that body of traditions. Alternatively, if it is not too radical a suggestion, it may be the case that teaching focused on the coming kingdom, eschatological judgment and reversal, and discipleship were in fact concerns of the historical Jesus. It is not being suggested that Q has not re-touched such thematic concerns for the purpose of addressing pastoral and pedagogical needs of the audience of Q, but perhaps in the Q parables one may find some genuine and significant continuity between the kerygma of the historical Jesus and the message preserved and transmitted by the framers of Q.109

108

See the statistics presented by MORGENTHALER, Statistische Synopse (see n. 81), pp. 233-243. 109 No simplistic equation is being drawn between Q traditions and authentic historical Jesus traditions. However, given the prominence of such themes in the Q parables, elsewhere in Q and in other strands of the synoptic tradition a strong case can be made for seeing these wider thematic concerns originating, at least in some form, with Jesus during his ministry.

The Parable of the Burglar in Q: Insights from Papyrology John S. Kloppenborg As Ruben Zimmermann has classically stated, the parable is a short fictional narrative text, which refers in its narrated world to a known reality but which by means of implicit or explicit signals makes it clear that the significance of what is narrated is to be distinguished from the wording of the text. In its appeal it requires a reader to accomplish a metaphoric transfer of meaning, guided by contextual information. 1

Scholars of Christian origins have typically been less interested in the ‘known reality’ and more in the ‘metaphoric transfer of meaning’. This is for two reasons: on the one hand, the dynamics of the parable presuppose that the ancient hearer would fully understand reality to which the parable points, and modern interpreters usually make the assumption that they too grasp the ‘known reality’ adequately. On the other, what is of greatest interest to the modern interpreter is the metaphoric transfer, for it is here that one finds the message of the historical Jesus and the theology of the evangelists. Yet, as I will argue in this paper, the ‘known reality’ is often far less well understood than is supposed, with the result that the metaphoric transfer, at least for the modern reader, is often quite problematic. A trivial though emblematic instance of this is found in the parable of the Shepherd (or ‘Lost Sheep’, Q 15,4-7). Interpreters, beguiled by Q’s verb ἔχειν or Matthew’s γίνεσθαι + dative,2 have wrongly assumed that the herdsman in the parable is the owner of the flock. This has led to a long, and as it turns out, pointless, debate as to whether a flock of one hundred sheep would make the herdsman a poor, a middling, or rich man. This de1

R. ZIMMERMANN, Die Gleichnisse Jesu: Eine Leseanleitung zum Kompendium, in: Idem et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu, Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2007, pp. 3-46, p. 25. 2 I assume here the reconstruction of Q by the International Q project: J. M. ROBINSON/P. HOFFMANN/J. S. KLOPPENBORG (eds.), The Critical Edition of Q: A Synopsis, Including the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, Mark and Thomas: With English, German and French Translations of Q and Thomas (Hermeneia Supplements), Leuven: Peeters/ Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2000.

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bate in turn led to the question of whether his search for the lost sheep is a matter of financial exigency, a rash and unexpected action, or an act of supererogation, pointing to the unexpected grace of God.3 Yet as Callie Callon and I have shown, herdsmen were not normally the owners of the flocks that were entrusted to them; herdsmen were, on the contrary, lowstatused hired help.4 Hence, the herdsman’s social status and the flock size (which at one hundred animals was quite normal) are in fact logically unrelated.5 But key questions, almost never asked by exegetes of the parable, concern two relationships – the first between the typical income of herdsmen and their monthly maintenance costs, and the second, between the cost of a sheep, which a herdsman would have had to make up in the event of loss or death, and the monthly income of a herdsman. These data are salient because they provide indications of the place of herdsmen on income and status scales and in fact make clear why the herdsman sought the lost sheep – not, as some have surmised, in an act of rashness or unexpected kindness, but out of sheer economic necessity. Because interpreters have tended to be innocent of knowledge of the ‘known realities’ of pastoralism in which this parable trades, any metaphoric transfer is thus rendered dubious. Our most important source of knowledge about the everyday realities of herding, agriculture, viticulture, oleoculture, banditry, leases and loans, wills, household management and so forth comes from Graeco-Egyptian papyri and a few papyri preserved from the ʿArava.6 Literary sources are 3 See the discussion in J. S. KLOPPENBORG, Pastoralism, Papyri and the Parable of the Shepherd, in: P. Arzt-Grabner/C. M. Kreinecker (eds.), Light from the East: Papyrologische Kommentare zum Neuen Testament (Philippika: Marburger altertumskundliche Abhandlungen 39), Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz 2010, pp. 48-69, esp. pp. 51-52. 4 See J. S. KLOPPENBORG /C. CALLON, The Parable of the Shepherd and the Transformation of Pastoral Discourse, Early Christianity 1 (2010), pp. 218-260. A. MEIN, Profitable and Unprofitable Shepherds: Economic and Theological Perspectives on Ezekiel 34, JSOT 31 (2007), pp. 493-504, p. 497 is one of the few to emphasize that shepherds were normally not the owners of the flock, and cites documents from the Old Babylonian period to the Persian period to illustrate this practice. L. SCHOTTROFF, The Parables of Jesus, trans. L. M. Maloney, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2006, p. 152, suggests that the shepherd is an employee rather than an owner, but offers no argument for this conclusion. 5 See also J. S. KLOPPENBORG, Hirte und andere Kriminelle: Über die Anwendung von Modellen in der historischen Kritik, in: W. Stegemann/R. DeMaris (eds.), Alte Texte in neuen Kontexten: Wo steht die sozialwissenschaftliche Bibelexegese? Stuttgart: Kohlhammer (forthcoming). 6 For example, N. LEWIS, The Documents from the Bar Kokhba Period in the Cave of Letters: Greek Papyri; Aramaic and Nabatean signatures and subscriptions (Judean Desert Studies 2), Jerusalem: Israel Explorations Society 1989; H. COTTON/A. YARDENI, Aramaic, Hebrew, and Greek Documentary Texts from Nahal Hever and Other Sites: With an Appendix Containing Alleged Qumran Texts (The Seiyâl Collection 2/DJD 27),

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also of importance, but since most of the literature that is preserved comes from elite authors, uninterested in relating the details of the everyday life of the non-elite, these sources are of relatively less value than documentary materials. It is surprising, for example, how little Josephus, our principal source of historical material for Roman Palestine, tells us about everyday life in Palestine. The Mishnah provides more information, but of course must be used with great care, since it also betrays the interests of landowners,7 and derives from a period following the large shift of populations from Judah to the north and the expansion of populations in the Upper Galilee. By contrast, Graeco-Egyptian papyri are contemporary with first century Palestine, they reflect similar non-elite social strata and processes, and with due allowance made for legal and cultural differences between Egypt and Palestine, can provide useful comparative data for understanding the realia which the parables presuppose.

1. Q 12,39: The parable of the Burglar and the Householder On Zimmermann’s count, Q contains twenty-eight parables,8 some of which are full narratives (6,47-49; 11,24-26; 12,42-46; 13,18-19; 13,20-21; [14,16-24]; 15,4-7 [8-10]; 19,12-13.15-24.26), while others are similes or metaphors that perhaps imply a narrative. The parable of the Thief (Q 12,39-40), belonging to the latter category, presents an interesting taxonomic problem, since on the one hand, it is framed with two aorists (ᾔδει … οὐκ ἂν 〚εἴασ〛εν διορυχθῆναι) – a fact that has led some interpreters to suggest that Jesus was referring to an account of a recent burglary.9 On the Oxford: Clarendon Press 1997; Y. YADIN et al. (eds.), The Documents from the Bar Kokhba Period in the Cave of Letters: Hebrew, Aramaic and Nabataean Documents (Judean Desert Studies 3), Jerusalem: Israel Explorations Society/The Hebrew University of Jerusalem 2002. 7 See H. LAPIN, Early Rabbinic Civil Law and the Social History of Roman Galilee: A Study of Mishnah Tractate Baba Mesiʿa (BJSt 307), Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press 1995. 8 ZIMMERMANN et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu (see n. 1): Q 6,39; 6,40; 6,41-42; 6,43-45; 6,47-49; 7,31-35; 10,2; 11,9-13; 11,24-26; 11,33; 11,34-35; 12,24.26-28; 12,39-40; 12,42-46; 12,54-56; 12,58-59; 13,18-19 [treated with Mark 3,2022]; 13,20-21; 13,24-27; 14,34-35; 15,4-5a.7; 16,13; 17,34-35; 17,37; 19,12-13.15-24.26. This list omits 10,22 [treated by Jan van der Watt with the Johannine parables], 11,14-20 [treated by Martin G. Ruf with the Markan parables], and 14,16-24 [treated separately by Luise Schottroff with the Matthean and Lukan parables]. 15,8-10 is treated by Annette Merz as a Lukan parable. 9 See C. H. DODD, The Parables of the Kingdom, rev. ed., London: James Nisbet & Company 1961, p. 134; J. JEREMIAS, The Parables of Jesus, trans. S. H. Hooke (trans. based on that made of the 6th ed. 1962), 3rd rev. ed., London: SCM Press/New York,

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other, the Q parable is framed as a counterfactual – what the householder would have done had certain facts obtained – while Thomas’s version is a presented as a future conditional (if x is the case, then y follows). Neither version of the parable attains the full characteristics of a narrative, which, hypothetically, might have taken the form, There was a householder who paid no attention to guarding his house. When a thief dug through the wall, he was unprepared, and thus suffered loss.

It is perhaps not surprising that the majority of recent major commentators on the parables – John Dominic Crossan, Robert W. Funk, Charles Hedrick, William Herzog, Arland Hultgren, Luise Schottroff, Bernard Brandon Scott, and Klyne Snodgrass – have either ignored the parable, or discussed it only briefly in connection with Q 12,42-46. 10 Yet, the parable of the burglar and the householder offers some of the same kinds of interpretive challenges that are encountered in other parables of Jesus. In the mid-second century, typical of his exegetical method, Marcion identified the burglar of the parable with the demiurge.11 This interpretation of course sparked a vigorous reaction by Irenaeus and Tertullian, who rejected Marcion’s distinction between the demiurge and the highest God, and, on the supposition that the creator was also the highest God, pointed out the absurdity in God stealing his own goods.12 But for N.Y.: Charles Scribner’s Sons 1972, p. 49; W. D. DAVIES/D. C. A LLISON J R., A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on Matthew (ICC), 3 vols., Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1988– 1997, p. 3:385. 10 The exceptions to this neglect of the parable are A. JÜLICHER, Die Gleichnisreden Jesu, 2 vols., 2nd ed., Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 1888–1899, p. 2:137-145; L. FONCK, Die Parabeln des Herrn im Evangelium: Exegetisch und praktisch erläutert (Christus, Lex mundi 3/1), 3rd rev. ed., Innsbruck: Rauch 1909, pp. 553-556; P. FIEBIG , Die Gleichnisreden Jesu im Lichte der rabbinischen Gleichnisse des neutestamentlichen Zeitalters: Ein Beitrag zum Streit um die ‘Christusmythe’ und die Widerlegung der Gleichnistheorie Jülichers, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 1912, pp. 156-158; DODD, Parables (see n. 9), pp. 132-136; JEREMIAS, Parables (see n. 9), pp. 48-51, 87, 95, 164; M. LABAHN, Achtung Menschensohn! (Vom Dieb): Q 12,39f. (Mt 24,43f./Lk 12,39f./EvThom 21,5), in: Zimmermann et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu (see n. 1), pp. 154-160. 11 Tertullian Adv. Marc. 4.29: In sequenti quoque parabola satis errat, qui furem illum, cuius horam si pater familiae sciret, non sineret suffodi domum suam, in personam disponit creatoris. ‘And in the next parable also, [Marcion] also makes a flagrant mistake, when he assigns to the person of the creator (i.e., demiurge) that of the “thief, whose hour, if the paterfamilias had only known, he would not have allowed his house to be broken through”.’ 12 Tertullian, Adv. Marc. 4.29: Fur enim creator quomodo videri potest dominus totius hominis? Nemo sua furatur aut suffodit, sed ille potius qui in aliena descendit, et hominem a domino eius alienat. Porro, cum furem nobis diabolum demonstret, cujus horam etiam in primordio si homo scisset, nunquam ab eo suffossus esset; propterea jubet ut parati simus, quia qua non putamus hora, filius hominis adveniet; non quasi ipse

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both Irenaeus and Tertullian, this also entailed downplaying the comparison of the Son of Man with a thief – an equation that the juxtaposition of Q 12,39 with 12,40 seems to recommend. Instead, Tertullian argues that the devil was the thief and that Christ’s role was to reappropriate what was rightfully his by ‘alienating’ humanity from its erstwhile demonic master – ille potius qui in aliena descendit, et hominem a domino eius alienat. For his part, Irenaeus was anxious to argue that what had been lost through the personified Apostasy (ἀποστασία), who had snatched away what did not belong to her (τὰ µὴ ἴδια ἀκορέστως ἁρπάσασα/ea quae non erant sua insatiabiliter rapiens), was reclaimed by Christ οὐ µετὰ βίας … ἀλλὰ κατὰ πιθανότητα, καθὼς ἔπρεπε τὸν θεὸν πείθοντα καὶ µὴ βιαζόµενον λαβεῖν ἅπερ ἐβούλετο. Christ’s repossession of what was his was accomplished, according to Irenaeus, ‘not with violence, but with persuasion, as befits the god who persuades in order to get what he desires, rather than using violence.’13 In his monumental treatment of the parables Jülicher observed that commentators routinely overlook the difficulty of relating the image of the parable in v. 43 in a tolerable way to the consequence that is drawn from it by v. 44, or they obscure it with artificial elaborations. The uncertainty of the fateful hour should be the tertium comparationis; but in v. 43 it has the result that the thief is brilliantly successful, and in v. 44, that the disciples aren’t to be caught by surprise. 14

There is another difficulty. It is routine to observe that the metaphor of the thief in the night is applied to the Day of the Lord (1 Thess 5,2, 4; 2 Pet 3,10; Apoc 3,3; 16,15). The metaphor is indeed appropriate because, obviously, it is associated with loss and with destruction (ὄλεθρος, 1 Thess 5,3) – since burglary is normally destructive – and with nakedness (Apoc 16,15-16) – because a typical object of theft is clothing. But as Jeremias observed

sit fur, sed judex, scilicet eorum qui se non paraverint, nec caverint furem, ‘How can the creator be regarded in any way as a thief, since he is Lord as he is over humankind. No one steals or pillages his own property, but instead he is one who descends on the property of another and alienates a person from his master. Again, when he demonstrates to us that the devil is the thief, “whose hour at the very beginning of the world, if man had known, he would never have been broken in upon by him,” he warns us “to be ready” for this reason: ‘because we know not the hour when the Son of man shall come’ – not as if he himself were the thief, but rather as being the judge of those who are not prepared and used no precaution against the thief.’ 13 Irenaeus, Haer. 5.1 (SC 153), pp. 19-21. 14 J ÜLICHER, Gleichnisreden Jesu (see n. 10), pp. 2:140-141.

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the application of the parable to the return of the Son of Man is strange; for if the subject of discourse is a nocturnal burglary, it refers to a disastrous and alarming event, whereas the Parousia, at least for the disciples of Jesus, is the great day of joy. 15

The tension between v. 43 and v. 44 led Jülicher to suggest that 12,40 and its christological interpretation of the parable are secondary and that the parable itself in 12,39 originally had in view the Day of the Lord, conceived as a ἡµέρα κρίσεως.16 For his part, Jeremias observed, ‘If we disregard the reference to the Son of Man, the nearest parallels [to the parable of the Burglar] are to be found in the parable of the Flood [Q 17,26-27] … and the destruction of Sodom [Q 17,28-30].’17 The negative tonalities of the metaphor of the thief indeed also help to account for Marcion’s identification of the thief with the Demiurge, a negatively-marked agent in his cosmology. They also account for the gymnastics in which Tertullian and Irenaeus engaged, who were aware that the construction of Matt 24,43-44 || Luke 12,39-40 aligned Christ with a thief, but who strained to distance Christ’s redemptive work from the violence inherent in burglary. The real thief – the devil for Tertullian and Apostasy for Irenaeus – was an agent of violence and Christ only recovered, without violence, what the thief had stolen.

2. The Methods of the Burglar In order to appreciate the connotations of burglary, it is necessary to examine actual ancient examples of house-breaking. The negative valences of the metaphor of the burglar are indeed richly illustrated by such reports, found among petitions and complaints to police preserved in Greek documentary papyri. The methods of entry are diverse.18 Sometimes the complaint is not very detailed as in P.Tebt. III/1 793, apparently a police record of a series of burglaries and assaults between 6 Feb and 9 Sept 183 B. C.E. ἐπελθόντες τινὲς [τῆι νυ]κ̣ τὶ τῆι φερούσηι εἰς τὴν β’ 25 [τοῦ Τῦ]β̣ ι ̣ ἐ̣π̣ ὶ̣ τ̣ ὸ̣ν̣ ὑ̣π̣ά̣ρ̣ χο̣ν̣ [τ]ά µοι σαθµὸν [ἤνοιξ]α̣ ν τὸ ἐν τῆι αὐλῇ οἴκηµα καὶ ὄχινον [ἔκλεψα]ν̣ µυλαῖον ὃν τιµῶµαι (δρ) φ’ καὶ ἐκ [τῆς α]ὐ̣λῆ̣ς ̣ προβάτια̣ γ’ ἄξια (δρ) χ’. 15

J EREMIAS, Parables (see n. 9), p. 49. J ÜLICHER, Gleichnisreden Jesu (see n. 10), p. 2:144. 17 J EREMIAS, Parables (see n. 9), p. 49. 18 See also the collection of 96 reports of burglary collected by A. LUKASZEWICZ, Petition Concerning a Theft: P. Berol. 7306, JJP 19 (1983), pp. 107-119. 16

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On the night preceding the 2nd of Tybi certain persons, having made an incursion into the quarters belonging to me, opened the room in the courtyard and stole a … mill that I value at 500 drachmae and from the courtyard three young sheep worth 600 drachmae.

Other entries seem to have occurred over the roofs of houses: ὑπερβάντες τινὲς τῆι νυκτὶ τῆς ι’ εἰς τὴν ια’ τοῦ προγεγραµµένου µηνὸς τὴν οἰκίαν ἡµῶν καὶ ἐλθόντες 5 εἰς τὴν προστάδα, καθευδόντω[ν] τῶν παρ’ ἡµῶν ἐν τοῖς οἴκοις τῶν θυρῶν κεκλειµένων, οἴχονται [ἔ-] χοντες ἐν τῆι προστάδι σφυρίδα σίτων ἐν ἧι ἐνῆν κ̣ ρ̣(ιθῆς) ἡµιαρτάβιον, ἧς τιµὴ (δρ) ϙ’ καὶ τῆς σφυρίδος (δρ) κ’, καὶ ὀθονιων β’ ἐσχισµενων ὀντων ἐν 10 σφυρίδι ἄξια (δρ) χ’, καὶ σάκκον τρίχινον αἰγὸς ἄξιον (δρ) τ’, ἱδρῶια β’ ἄξια (δρ) ρκ’, τετραχοίνικον (δρ) ν’, ὥστε εἶναι τῆς λέας χαλκοῦ (δρ) χιλίας ἑκατ[ὸ]ν̣ ὀγδοήκοντα, / (δρ) Αρπ. (P.Tebt. III/1 794.2–13; 17 Nov 185 B.C.E.). On the night between the 10th and the 11th of the above-mentioned month, some persons climbed into our house and entered the vestibule while we were sleeping in the rooms and after the doors had been locked, left after taking a basket that was in the vestibule in which there was half an artaba of barley with a value of 90 drachmae, the value of the basket being 20 drachmae, and two torn linen garments in the basket worth 600 drachmae, and a garment of goat’s hair worth 300 drachmae, two sweat blankets worth 120 drachmae; a four-choinix (grain) measure worth 50 drachmae, so that the value of the stolen items is one thousand one hundred and eighty drachmae, making 1180 drachmae.

From the two reports excerpted above, and others that can be cited, it is clear on the one hand that nocturnal burglaries were very common, and on the other, that a wide range of domestic goods from foodstuffs to animals, clothing, furniture, raw materials and implements were all subject to theft. While the modern reader might be inclined to think only of thefts of money, jewellery, and other luxury items, theft of ordinary domestic items was in fact just as common. As I will suggest below, the houses of the wealthy were less subject to burglary than non-elite houses, accounting for the profile of goods that are reported as stolen.19 In most reports, however, entry into the house involved both destruction and violence: παραγενόµενοι εἰς τὴν κώµην 19 See also C. D. STANLEY, Who’s Afraid of a Thief in the Night? NTS 48 (2002), pp. 468-486.

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Πύρριχος ∆ιονυσίου τῶ[ν κα(τοίκων) ἱπ(πέων)] 15 καὶ Ἡράκλειος Ποσει[δίππου] τῶν ἐκ τῆς αὐτῆς σὺν ἄλλοις πλείστοις ἐν µαχαίραις καὶ ἐλθόντες ἐπὶ τὴν ὑπάρχουσάν µοι οἰκίαν 20 οὐδενὶ κόσµωι χρησάµενοι συντρίψαντες τὴν παρόδιον θύραν γενόµενοι ἔνδον ἀπηνέγκαντο τὰ ὑπογε25 γραµµένα, οὐθενὸς ἁπλῶς ὄντος µοι πρὸς αὐτούς. (P.Tebt. I 45; Kerkeosiris, 113 B. C. E.)20 Pyrrhichos son of Dionysios from the cavalry settlement and Herakleios son of Poseidippos from the same village came to the village with many other persons armed with swords. They went to the house that I own and without any restraint smashed the street door. Having got inside they carried off the articles listed below, although there was simply no dispute between me and them.

One inventive burglar removed the nails in the door: ἐπῆλθάν τινες ληστρικῷ τρόπῳ οἰκίαν µου ἐν τῇ κ[ώ-] µῃ διὰ τῆς εἰς τὴν κβ’ τοῦ ὄντος µηνὸς Ἁθὺρ νυκτὸς καιρὸν λαβόµενοι 10 τῆς ἐκκυτείας µου πένθους ἀνδρος θυγατρός µου ἕνεκα καὶ πάντα ἃ εἶχον ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ µου ἀποκείµενα τὰς θ̣ύ̣ρ̣ [α]ς 15 ἐξηλώσαν[τ]ες ἐβάσταξαν, ὧν τὸ καθ’ [ἓν] ἐπὶ τοῦ ῥ̣η̣τοῦ ἀποδείξω. (P.Tebt. II 332; Kerkeosiris, 176 C.E.) 5

Some persons, acting like bandits, made an incursion into my house in the village on the night before the 22nd of the present month Hathyr, availing themselves of the opportunity of my absence, because I was mourning my daughter's husband. Extracting the 20

Compare also P.Tebt. I 126; Kerkeosiris, 113 B. C. E.) (the same incident); P.Tebt. I 47 (same incident); P.Tebt. I 46 (113 B. C. E.): different plaintiff with another petition about housebreaking by the same accused; P.Tebt. I 52 (114 B.C.E.); P.Tebt. I 127 (113 B .C .E.) different plaintiff with another petition about housebreaking by the same accused; P.Tebt. II 330 (=M.Chr. 110) (196–198 C.E.).

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nails from the doors they carried off all that I had stored in the house, a list of which I will produce on the stated occasion.

In another case, burglars smashed a bricked-up door with a battering-ram: 1

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[ -ca.?- θυρίδα [συµ-] πεφρεγµένην πλίνθοις φέρουσαν εἰς δηµοσίαν ῥύµην ἀνατρέψαντες ἴσως προσερείσαντες τῷ τόπῳ ξύλον καὶ εἰσελθόντα[ς] εἰς τὴν οἰκίαν διὰ ταύτης βεβασταχέναι ἀπὸ τῶν ἐν τῇ οἰκίᾳ ἀποκειµένων µόνας κριθῆς ἀρτάβας δέκα, ἃς καὶ ὑπονενοηκέναι καθεῖσθαι κατὰ µέρος διὰ τῆς αὐτῆς θυρίδος ἐκ τοῦ ἐπὶ ταύτης ἀποσύρµατος σχοίν[ου]. (P.Oxy. I 69; Oxyrhynchus, 190 C. E.)

… smashing down the door that had been bricked in that leads to the public street, probably using a log to thrust against it. Entering the house they carried off ten artabae of barley from what was stored there which they carried off through the same door. We supposed that this was removed piece by piece through the same door from the dragging marks of the rope.

Most commonly, however, burglars dug through walls or undermined structures of the house in order to gain entry to the house. This was likely in larger courtyard houses, the outer door was heavily barred at night, and in the case of more modest houses, because the owner slept against the door in order to detect efforts to open it. 21 Jeremias once opined that the appearance of διορύσσω in Q 12,33-34 and Q 12,39 was ‘an instance of a rather slavishly literal translation of the Aramaic ḥathar which means (a) ‘to break through’, and (b) ‘to break in’.’22 As the following texts will show, this verb, along with ὑπορύσσω, is not due to carelessness of a slavish translator, but on the contrary a verb commonly encountered in complaints about break-ins: νυκτὶ τῇ φερούσῃ εἰς τὴν ιζ’ τοῦ ἐνεστῶτο(ς) µηνὸ(ς) Σεβαστοῦ τοῦ ις’ (ἔτους) Τιβερίου Καίσαρος Σεβαστοῦ κοιµωµένου µου ἐπὶ τῆς θύρας οὗ καταγείνοµαι οἴ10 κου ἐν τῷ ἐποικίωι ἐπιβαλόντες τινὲς λῃστρικῶι τρόπωι ὑπώρυξαν διὰ τοῦ ζυτοπωλίου τὸ ἀπὸ 21 Compare Luke 11,7, the reply of the sleeping householder: ἤδη ἡ θύρα κέκλεισται καὶ τὰ παιδία µου µετ’ ἐµοῦ εἰς τὴν κοίτην εἰσίν· οὐ δύναµαι ἀναστὰς δοῦναί σοι. This presupposes that barring the door takes some effort. 22 J EREMIAS, Parables (see n. 9), p. 48 n. 98.

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βορρᾶ τεῖχος τοῦ οἴκου καὶ ἔνδον γενόµενοι ἤροσαν τῶν ἐµῶν 15 ὧν τὸ καθ’ ἓν ὑπόκειται. (P.Ryl. II 127; Euhemeria, 29 C.E.) On the night before the 17th of the current month of Sebastos, of the 16th year of Tiberius Caesar Augustus, while I was asleep at the door of the house in which I live in the farmstead, some persons, acting like bandits, undermined the northern wall of the house by going through the beer shop, and having gained entry, they removed the property, a list of which is attached.

5

νυκτὶ τη[ ± 11 ] τοῦ Φαρµοῦθι τοῦ ἐνεστῶτ[ος ± 8 ] Κλαυδίου Καίσαρος Σεβαστοῦ Γε[ρµανικοῦ] Αὐτοκράτορος, τινὲς λῃστρικῶι τρόπωι [δ]ι̣ώ̣ρ υξαν τὴν τῶν ἡµετέρων ὄνων α̣ ὐ̣[λ]ὴν καὶ ἔνδον γενόµενοι ἀπήλασάν µο[υ] ὄνους λευκοὺς δύο τελείους τιµηθέντας ̣ (δρ) σϙ (P.Mich. VI 421.2-9; Karanis, Herakleidou meris, 41–54 C.E.)

On the night of the . . . of Pharmouthi of the present [. . . year of . . .] Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus the Emperor, certain persons dug their way like bandits into the courtyard where we have our donkeys and getting inside the entrance drove off my two full-grown white donkeys valued at 290 drachmae.

5

νος λῃσ[τρικῷ τρόπῳ διορύ]ξαντές τ̣ ι ν̣ ε̣[ς τὸ ἐν τῇ δηµο]σίᾳ ῥύµῃ̣ τεῖχος τῆς α̣ ὐ̣[λῆς] καὶ εἰσελθόντες ἀπήλασάν µου πρόβατα ὀκτώ. (P.Oxy. XLIX 3467.3-7; Oxyrhynchus, 98 C. E.)

… like bandits some persons dug through the wall of the courtyard along the public street and after they got in made off with 8 sheep.

5

Θεοδώρῳ στρατηγῷ [Ἀρσι(νοίτου) Ἡρακλείδου µερίδος] παρὰ Γαίου Ἰουλίο[υ Νίγερος Ἀντινοέως γεου]χοῦντος ἐν Καρ̣α̣ ν̣ί ̣δ̣ ι ̣ τ̣ [ῆς Ἡρακλείδου µερίδος ὡς] ἐτῶν νβ’. [ ±? ] τινὲς λῃσ̣ τ̣ρ̣ ι κ̣ ῷ τ̣ρ̣ [όπῳ διώρυξαν τὸ τεῖχος τῆς] αὐλῆ‹ς› κ̣ α̣ ὶ̣ διὰ̣ Θ̣ ερµ ̣[ ±? ἀπήλα]σάν µου ὄνους ̣ δ[ύο , τὴν µὲν µίαν θήλειαν, τὸν δὲ] ἕτερον ἄρρενα [ ̣]α ̣[ ±? ] ἔνκληµα ὑ̣π̣ ὲ̣ρ τ̣ ού̣[των ±? ] (SB XXII 15781; Karanis; 158–159 C.E.)

To Theodoros, strategos [of the Arsinoite nome, division of Herakleides], from Gaius Iulius [Niger, an Antinoite] and landholder at Karanis in the [division of Herakleides, about] 52 years of age. [– – –] Certain persons dug through the wall of the courtyard like

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bandits and [– – –] drove off two donkeys of mine, one a female, the other a male [– – – ]….

[τῆι νυκτὶ] τῆι φερο[ύση]ι εἰ̣ς ̣ τ̣ [ὴν] ε’ τοῦ Φαµενὼθ τοῦ ε’ L ἐ̣β̣ ι ά̣ ̣σ̣α̣ ν̣τ̣ ό̣ 10 τινες εἰ̣[ς τὴν] ὑπάρχουσάν µοι οἰκίαν καὶ ὑπορύξαντες τὸ σταθµὸν̣ ε̣ἰ̣σῆλθον εἰς τὴν προσ15 τάδα. ἐµοῦ δὲ διεγερθέντος καὶ βοήσαντος ἀνθρώπους [ ̣] ̣ ̣[ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣] ̣να̣ λ̣ α̣ On the night before the 5th of Phamenoth of the 5th year, some persons violently entered the house that belongs to me and having undermined the doorpost entered the vestibule. Waking up and shouting, I … people….

νυκτὶ τῇ φερούσῃ εἰς τὴν ς’ τοῦ ὄντος µηνὸς Μεχεὶρ ἐπελθόντες τινὲς λῃστρικῷ τ̣ρόπῳ ἐξ ὑπερβατῶν διὰ 10 τῆς αὐλῆς, εἰς ἣν οἰκῶ οἰκ̣ ί̣αν ἐν τῇ προκειµένῃ κώµῃ, καὶ ὑπωρύξαντε̣ς ̣ τὴν οἰκίαν ἐβάστασαν̣ πάντα τὰ ἐν̣ αὐτῇ ἀποκείµε15 ν̣ α. (SB XX 14679; Bakchias; 205–214 C.E.) On the night before the 6th of the present month of Mecheir, some persons, acting like bandits and having climbed from a place where entrance was possible, got into the courtyard of the house in which I live in the above-mentioned village, and having undermined the house, carried off all the goods stored therein.

The use of διορύσσω and ὑπορύσσω in such reports of burglary is not only appropriate to Egypt, but also to Hellenistic and Roman Palestine, where house construction often relied on mudbrick. A contemporary survey of construction techniques in the Beka’a valley in Lebanon still acknowledges mudbrick as a typical building material.23 Normally, the foundation of the wall was stone, rising to 60 cm., with courses of brick then laid on top of the foundation. Hirschfeld’s survey of ancient dwellings has uncovered 23 F. E L-KHOURY, Domestic Architecture in the Lebanon (Art and Archaeology Research Papers), London: Art and Archaeology Research Papers 1975, p. 3.

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houses of this type in the Beth Sheʿan valley, and at ʿEn ʿEvrona and ʿEn Yahav in the ʿArava and the Tosephta (Negaim 6,4) provides literary evidence of such houses.24 That penetration of walls was a normal technique of burglars is also evidenced by numerous literary references: The LXX of the law in Exod 22,1 regarding the justified killing of a thief (κλέπτης) is framed with the assumption that the thief ‘digs in’ (ἐν τῷ διορύγµατι), while Job 24,16 ironically compares adulterers to the thieves who by day ‘seal themselves’ (ἐσφράγισαν ἑαυτούς) in their houses but by night ‘dig through’ them (διώρυξεν ἐν σκότει). Gen. Rab. 27.3 contains the amusing story that one night in Sepphoris R. Ḥanina had expounded on Job 24,36, stating that it referred to thieves who by day mark with balsam the houses they wish to rob and then ‘come at night and dig (‫ )חתר‬through it.’ That very night there were three hundred break-ins (‫ )חותרין‬in Sepphoris, apparently by thieves who had been attentive to Ḥanina’s teaching.25 The image of thieves tunneling through walls is also seen in Greece and elsewhere. Lucian’s Gallus 29 has one of his characters, Simon, express anxiety about his cups, that ‘someone will dig under the wall and steal them (τις ὑπορύξας τὸν τοῖχον ὑφέληται αὐτά);’ Much later, John Chrysostom sermonized, We are the masters of injuring or not injuring ourselves. And if you will, let us make the whole matter plain in the case of theft itself. The thief has cut through the wall (διέτεµε τὸν τοῖχον ὁ κλέπτης), he has rushed into the chamber, he has carried off costly golden vessels, and precious stones, in short, he has cleared your whole treasure, and has not been captured.26

24 Y. HIRSCHFELD, The Palestinian Dwelling in the Roman-Byzantine Period (Studium Biblicum Franciscanum, Collectio minor 34), Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press/Israel Exploration Society 1995, p. 221; See also A. A. ASSAF, Private Houses at ʿAin Dara in Byzantin Period [sic], in: C. Castel/M. al-Maqdissi/F. Villeneuve (eds.), Les maisons dans la Syrie antique du IIIe millénaire aux débuts de l’Islam: Pratiques et représentations de l’espace domestique: Actes du Colloque International, Damas, 27–30 juin 1992 (Bibliothèque archéoloqique et historique 150), Beirut: Institut français d’archéologie du Proche-Orient 1997, pp. 187-190, p. 188, who notes that all of the houses at ʿAin Dara northwest of Aleppo ‘have a stone-foundation and mud-brick walls. The ceiling consists of beam branches of trees or thatch, earth, and loam.’ Similarly, H. S EEDEN, Village Houses in Lebanon, in: Castel/Al-Maqdissi/Villeneuve (eds.), Les maisons dans la Syrie antique, pp. 203-214, pp. 205, 208 in relation to the houses at Kamid el-Loz and Baalbek. 25 A parallel version appears in b. Sanh. 109a, which attributes the teaching to R. Yosé. This version concludes, ‘So they came and harassed [R. Yosé]. They said to him, “You have shown a way to thieves!” He replied, “Could I have known that thieves would come?”’ 26 John Chrysostom, Hom. 1 Thess. (Hom. 3.18 = PG 62:413).

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So frequently was burglary associated with the breaking of walls, that in literary sources the terms τοιχωρυχέω, τοιχωρυχία, τοιχωρυχική, and τοιχωρύχος came to mean (respectively) ‘to burgle’, ‘burglary’, ‘a burglar’s craft’, and ‘burglar’.27 These terms, coupled with διορύσσω and ὑπορύσσω used in papyri, indicate that the trope of the thief breaking the walls of houses remained constant. Several aspects of burglary give to the image of the burglar its salience. First and most obvious is the loss of property. As suggested above, burglars did not restrict their activities to luxury goods, but took staples, animals, implements, and raw materials. In fact, from the available complaints and petitions, the theft of such ordinary items is far more common than the theft of luxury items. This suggests the houses of the non-elite were probably more often the targets of burglary, probably because the houses of the elite were more likely to be constructed of stone, more difficult (though by no means impossible) to undermine, with doors more heavily barred, and guarded by slaves and dogs.28 Houses of the non-elite were made of poorer materials, easier to penetrate. Second, the reports about burglary suggest that for the non-elite, almost nothing could be done to prevent theft and destruction. Several of the accounts noted above even claim that the burglary occurred while the occupant was asleep elsewhere in the house.29 Whether this was in fact true, or whether the occupant, awakened by the sound of collapsing walls, had simply been too frightened to intervene, the outcome is the same: it seems to have been practically impossible to prevent a break-in, or to stop it in mid-course, unless one had the kind of weapons and force available to insure success. This implies that Q’s advice, ὑµεῖς γίνεσθε ἕτοιµοι, if taken realistically, would not simply mean to be awake, but to be armed and to have at one’s disposal adequate force to repel the assault. This of course also implies that the houses of the non-elite were likely continually vulnerable to break-ins. These first two aspects of burglary gave to the image of the burglar its salience and virtually universal currency. Third, as has been shown above, burglary was also an act of destruction of walls, doors and other portions of the house designed for protection. But it was also an affront to the honor of the householder, and all the more 27 E.g., Aristophanes, Plut. 165; Xenophon, Mem. 1.2.62; Symp. 4.36; Philo, Spec. 4.7; Flacc. 1.73; Plutarch, Comm. not. 1076E; Lucian, Gall. 33. 28 P.Oxy. XII 1465 (Oxyrhynchus, I B.C.E.) is a police report in which suaspicion is cast on the guard in facilitating the theft of some wheat, and SB XXII 15779 (Karanis, 98–100 C .E.) reports that wheat had been stolen from a field while the field-guards were away. SB XXIV 16257 (=P.Mich. inv. 6060) (Soknopaiou Nesos, 123 C .E.) reports a theft that had occurred because the offender had duped two slave ([ψ]υχαγωγήσας δουλικὰ σώµατα δύο), perhaps guarding the house of the two priests from the village. 29 Above, pp. 277 and 279.

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poignant because as Daniel Smith’s contribution to this volume suggests, the house in anthropological perspective serves as a metaphor for the self, such that any attack on the house is at the same time an attack on the householder. It is for this reason that Near Eastern, Greek and Roman law allowed the householder the right to kill a burglar if caught at night.30 The right points to a de facto distinction in legal jurisdiction between public space, over which the state exercised jurisdiction, and the household, which was the responsibility of the owner to protect. Fourth, it should also be observed that complaints routinely employ rather inflated terms to describe the robbery. Although the cases cited above are matters of housebreaking, the term λῃστρικῷ τρόπῳ, ‘in the manner of bandits’, is repetitively used to describe the break-in and serves to heighten the sense of violation, and the profoundly anti-social nature of the act. Indeed, in a small minority of instances we have reports of marauding gangs of cavalry settlers attacking houses (P.Tebt. I 45, 46, 47, 126 [=IV 1095], 127 [=IV 1096], all 113 B.C.E.). But this was more the exception than the rule. Labahn suggests as the social context for Q 12,39 the rise of banditry prior to the first Revolt: Thieves and robbers are realities of the ancient world. According to Josephus the time prior to the Jewish war was marked by the appearance of thieves and robbers …, who added to the misfortunes of the occupying forces and the rich populace, but Josephus says also ravaged villages and hence were probably active at all social levels. Thieves were not the heroes of stories but on the contrary were feared, even if they can be understood as the product of the social relationships in Palestine under Roman rule, which had their social origins in the widespread poverty because of the burden of taxes, among other things, but also because of famine and other crises.31

While on first glance, the burglary reports cited above might lend support to this conjecture, we should not be misled by such their inflated language. In the majority of cases, these ‘bandit-like’ attacks were in fact the work of one or two individuals, whose identity was either known to the victim or whose identify was suspected. Thieves normally lived in the same village or in a nearby one.32 The phrase λῃστρικῷ τρόπῳ, I suggest, is itself a metaphor, designed to heighten the sense of outrage and loss; it is not a neutral description of the attack. Moreover, the fact that most of the bur-

30

R. WESTBROOK, Vitae Necisque Potestas, Hist. 48 (1999), pp. 203-223. LABAHN, Achtung Menschensohn! (see n. 10), p. 156 referring to Josephus, Bell. 2.253, 264-265; Ant. 20.160-161, 255-258. 32 In the table of burglaries in LUKASZEWICZ, Petition Concerning a Theft (see n. 18), fifty-eight of the ninety-six offenders were known to the victims. 31

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glaries occurred at night rather than during the day33 suggests that they were not the work of a bandit gang, but were more routine break-ins. This point is germane because as the likely wording of Q – ποίᾳ φυλακῇ34 – suggests and as Labahn rightly notes,35 the hypothetical incursion is at night. Nighttime burglaries by individuals were so common that the notion of the thief in the night became virtually proverbial.36 Q 12,39 thus has in view not the attack of λῃσταί, but rather a clandestine and nocturnal burglary by a κλέπτης.

3. The Parable of the Burglar and its Interpretation The foregoing analysis of reports of burglaries illustrate several aspects of housebreaking that contribute to its strongly negative valences: the image is associated with significant loss, sometimes the loss of foodstuffs and clothing essential to life. Burglary was both impossible to anticpate and in most cases difficult to stop, even when the victim was at home and awake. Destructions of walls is a regular aspect of burglary and, because ingress is normally nocturnal, burglary conveyed both an element of terror and an affront to the honor of the householder. And the hyperbole of banditry routinely associated with burglary underscores its anti-social and violent nature. It is not surprising, then, that Marcion would have been inclined to an interpretation of the parable that capitalized on the negative valences of the burglar. Tertullian and Irenaeus reacted to those same valences in their efforts to distance Christ from the burglar and in fact to depict Christ as undoing the burglar’s work. The tensions between Q 12,39 and 12,40 variously felt by Marcion, Tertullian and Irenaeus raise the question whether Q 12,39-40 is a unitary (christological) composition. Opinion is sharply divided. Bultmann and 33 The gang attacks mentioned in P.Tebt. I 45, 46, 47, 126 and 127, which might be likened to bandit attacks, were daytime attacks. 34 ROBINSON/HOFFMANN/KLOPPENBORG (eds.), Critical Edition of Q (see n. 2), p. 360. 35 LABAHN, Achtung Menschensohn! (see n. 10), p. 156. 36 E.g., Homer, Il. 3.10-12: Εὖτ’ ὄρεος κορυφῇσι Νότος κατέχευεν ὀµίχλην ποιµέσιν οὔ τι φίλην, κλέπτῃ δέ τε νυκτὸς ἀµείνω, τόσσόν τίς τ’ ἐπιλεύσσει ὅσον τ’ ἐπὶ λᾶαν ἵησιν, ‘Even as the South Wind sheds a mist over the peaks of the mountains, a mist the shepherd loves not, but that to the thief is better than night, and a man can see only as far as he casts a stone …’; Euripides, Iph. taur. 1026: κλεπτῶν γὰρ ἡ νύξ, τῆς δ’ ἀληθείας τὸ φῶς, ‘For the night belongs to thieves, the light to truth’. Aristophanes, Eccl. 667-671 is an burlesque of the ideal state, where Aristophanes claims that there will no chance of meeting at thief at night (οὐδ’ ἀποδύσους’ ἄρα τῶν νυκτῶν, 668) since there is in this state a community of goods.

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others concluded that 12,39-40 is unitary,37 and the consequence of this view is that the parable and its interpretation can hardly be thought to reflect the speech of the historical Jesus. In this case, the unit might be thought comparable with three correlatives in Q: Q 11,29-30, which suggests that the κρίσις will come without any signs to be observed, and the double saying, Q 17,26-27.⟦28-29⟧.30, which adduces the flood and the destruction of Sodom as events like the ‘day of the Son of Man’, which cannot be anticipated. Yet, these correlatives cohere better with Q 12,39 and its assumption that one cannot know when the burglar will come, than it does with 12,40, which rather lamely counsels preparedness. Q 12,40 indeed appears to serve as a redactional bridge that allows for the introduction of 12,42-46, which echoes 12,40 in its phrase, ἥξει ὁ κύριος τοῦ δούλου ἐκείνου ἐν ἡµέρᾳ ᾗ οὐ προσδοκᾷ καὶ ἐν ὥρᾳ ᾗ οὐ γινώσκει, and which enjoins continued faithful service in the absence of the slave-owner. Moreover, there is an important shift between 12,39 and 12,42-46: the οἰκοδεσπότης of 12,39 is not a slave-owning householder, whose slaves might be able to repel an attack; the householder of 12,39, on the contrary, is a non-elite person whose mudbrick walls and whose lack of access to deadly force made him constantly vulnerable to burglary. The view that 12,39-40 is a unitary composition encounters a second difficulty: the fact that the version of the parable found in the Gospel of Thomas (21.5) lacks entirely an equivalent to Q 12,40:38 37

R. BULTMANN, The History of the Synoptic Tradition, trans. J. Marsh, rev. ed., Oxford: Blackwell 1968, p. 119; P. VIELHAUER , Gottesreich und Menschensohn in der Verkündigung Jesu, in: IDEM, Aufsätze zum Neuen Testament (TB 31), Munich: Kaiser 1965, pp. 55-91, pp. 73-74 n. 79; G. STRECKER, Der Weg der Gerechtigkeit: Untersuchung zur Theologie des Matthäus (FRLANT 82), 2nd ed., Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1966, p. 241; F. HAHN, The Titles of Jesus in Christology: Their History in Early Christianity, trans. H. Knight and G. Ogg, London: Lutterworth Press 1969, p. 49 n. 107; S. SCHULZ, Q: Die Spruchquelle der Evangelisten, Zürich: Theologischer Verlag 1972, p. 268; H. T. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (Biblical Tools and Studies 1), Leuven: Peeters 2005, p. 632. 38 W. SCHRAGE, Das Verhältnis des Thomas-Evangeliums zur synoptischen Tradition und zu den koptischen Evangelienübersetzungen: Zugleich ein Beitrag zur gnostischen Synoptikerdeutung (BZNW 29), Berlin: Töpelmann 1964, pp. 67-68 saw three similarities between Thomas and the Synoptics: Fnaroeis empateF/ei (‘he will guard before he comes’) reflects Matthew’s redactional addition ἐγρηγόρησεν ἄν; Matthew and Thomas have the conjunctive negative particle t@m and leave καί untranslated even through Thomas rendered διορύσσειν with SoJt rather than with GwtH (the Sahidic of Matt 6,19 also uses SoJt. S. J. P ATTERSON, The Gospel of Thomas and Jesus: Thomas Christianity, Social Radicalism, and the Quest of the Historical Jesus (Foundations & Facets, Reference series), Sonoma, Calif.: Polebridge Press 1993, pp. 28-29 pointed out that Thomas and Matthew agree on a single word, Fnaroeis and formulate the second half of the saying very differently. U.-K. P LISCH, The Gospel of Thomas, trans. G. Schenke Robinson, Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft 2008, p. 83, adds that it is

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21.5

dia touto TJw @m mos Je eF/Saeime @n Gi pJesH@nhei Je Fnhu @n Gi

preFJioue Fnaroeis empateF/ei @ nFt@mkaaF/ eSoJt/ eHoun epeFhei @n te teF/m@n tero

etreFFi

@nneF/skeuos.

6. @n twt@n

de

roeis

Ha

teHh

@ mpkosmos 7. mour/ @ mmwt@n eJ@n net@nTpe H@ nnounoG @ndunamis Sina Je ne nlhsths He eHih eei Sarwt@n

Therefore, I say, if the owner of the house (JesH@nhei) knows that the thief ( reFJioue) is coming, he will guard before he comes and will not let it him dig ( SoJt) into the house of his domain and to carry off his goods. 6 You, then, should guard against the world. 7 Gird your loins with great strength so that the bandits (λῃσταί) will not find a way to get to you.

There are clearly some interpretive additions to this parable, notably the injunction to guard (roeis) against the world (21.6) and 21.7, which seems to be a version of the injunction that also appears in Luke 12,35-38/Did. 16,1. Nevertheless, given the universally negative valences of burglary, Thomas’ rendering of the parable as a warning against the dangers of the kosmos seems a more natural interpretation than Q’s addition of a Son of Man saying, especially if one regards the coming of the Son of Man as a salvific act rather than a destructive one. Already with Jülicher, the view is attested that 12,40 is not an original part of the parable. Jülicher opined that the original parable, did not so much emphasize the ‘when’ as the ‘that’: if the householder knew that the thief would come to him, he would not have allowed him to break in. In an eschatological speech the meaning of the saying is clear: Just so, you, since you do know that the Day is near, are always prepared so that nothing surprising will befall you with terrible consequences.39 unlikely that Thomas 21 depends on the Synoptics: ‘Such a view would presuppose that the redactor of the Gospel of Thomas compiled various features located quite distant from each other in order to form the saying. Moreover, the parallels of the New Testament, as they stand now in their different contexts, were themselves originally independent proverbs.’ 39 J ÜLICHER, Gleichnisreden Jesu (see n. 10), p. 2:144. It is worth noting that the version in the Gospel of Thomas focuses precisely on the ‘that’: eF/Saeime @ nGi pJesH@ n hei Je Fnhu @n Gi preFJioue . Others who regard 12,40 as a secondary addition are C. COLPE, ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου, in: TDNT 8 (1972), pp. 451-452; H. S CHÜRMANN, Beobachtungen zum Menschensohn-Titel in der Redequelle, in: R. Pesch/R. Schnackenburg (eds.), Jesus und der Menschensohn: FS A. Vögtle, Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder 1975, pp. 124-147, p. 138; W. HARNISCH, Eschatologische Existenz: Ein exegetischer Beitrag zum Sachanliegen von 1. Thessalonicher 4,13–5,11 (FRLANT 110), Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1973, pp. 84-85, 89-91; A. SMITMANS, Das Gleichnis vom Dieb, in: H. Feld/J. Nolte (eds.), Wort Gottes in der Zeit: FS K. H. Schelkle, Düsseldorf: Patmos-Verlag 1973, pp. 43-68, p. 56 n. 62; G. SCHNEIDER, Parusiegleichnisse im Lukasevangelium (SBS 74), Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk 1975, p. 22; W. SCHENK, Synopse zur Redenquelle der Evangelien: Q-Synopse und

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Both Dodd and Jeremias adopted the view that the parable (12,39) was authentic and referred originally to the impending catastrophe, although Dodd also considered the possibility that the unexpected coming of the thief was to be compared with the unanticipated coming of the kingdom.40 The latter interpretation has been adopted by Davies and Allison in relation to the Synoptic parable41 and by DeConick in relation to the Gospel of Thomas (21,5), who argued that the ‘Kernel Gospel’ to which Thomas 21,5 belonged, had already in the immediate context compared the kingdom with a mustard seed (20,2-4) and to the harvest that would soon come (20,10).42 Thomas 21,6 was an encratic addition to this Kernel Gospel, warning its addressees against the world.43 It is of course conceivable that the author of the parable of the Burglar had selected a negatively-marked image and inverted it to become a provocative and ‘immoral’ metaphor for the unexpected coming of the Kingdom. Indeed Schramm and Löwenstein argue, Das Gleichnis blickt also auf einen geglückten Einbruch zurück, nicht, wie die urgemeindliche Anwendung später will, auf eine bevorstehende Krise voraus; es ängstigt nicht, sondern es triumphiert. Die Perspektive ist die des Diebes, nicht die des Hausherrn. So verstanden, kann das Gleichnis eigentlich nur Bezug nehmen auf die bereits erfolgte Aufrichtung der Gottesherrschaft: Mit der Herrschaft Gottes verhält es sich wie mit einem Einbruch, der nicht zu verhindern war; ebenso wenig wie der Hausherr Vorsorge treffen konnte gegen den Dieb, war irgendwer in der Lage, den Beginn des Reiches Gottes zu hindern, den Jesus u.a. in seiner Wundertätigkeit ausgedrückt sieht.44

But given the consistently negative valences of the image of the nocturnal burglar as an agent of loss, destruction, and chaos, and taking into account the earliest exegetical reactions to the parable by Marcion, on the one hand, and Tertullian and Irenaeus on the other, it seems better to interpret Rekonstruktion in deutscher Übersetzung mit kurzen Erläuterungen, Düsseldorf: PatmosVerlag 1981, p. 94; J. S. KLOPPENBORG, The Formation of Q: Trajectories in Ancient Wisdom Collections (Studies in Antiquity and Christianity), Philadelphia, Pa.: Fortress Press 1987, pp. 149-150; T. ZÖCKLER, Jesu Lehren im Thomasevangelium (Nag Hammadi and Manichaean Studies 47), Leiden: E. J. Brill 1999, p. 58. 40 DODD, Parables (see n. 9), p. 134; J EREMIAS, Parables (see n. 9), p. 49: ‘If we disregard the reference to the Son of Man, the nearest parallels are to be found in the parable of the Flood … and the destruction of Sodom.’ 41 DAVIES/ALLISON, Matthew (see n. 9), p. 3:385. 42 A. D. D ECONICK, The Original Gospel of Thomas in Translation: With a Commentary and New English Translation of the Complete Gospel (Library of New Testament Studies 287/Early Christianity in Context), London: T & T Clark 2006, p. 110. 43 DECONICK, The Original Gospel (see n. 42), suggests that the parable is interpreted in a similar way to that of Ps-Macarius (Hom. 3.4), who sees the thief as ‘inner thoughts’ (λογισµοί) of arrogance, presumption, unbelief, hatred, envy, deceit, and hypocrisy. 44 T. SCHRAMM/K. LÖWENSTEIN, Unmoralische Helden: Anstößige Gleichnisse Jesu, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1986, pp. 51-52.

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the parable, with Jülicher, as a metaphor of the unanticipated and incalculable destruction that the judgment or Day of the Lord was expected to effect. Hence, the parable of the Burglar functions like Q 17,26-27 and 17,28-30, to evoke a spectre of destruction rather than salvation and to underscore its incalculable aspect. The interpretive development of the parable took two directions. On the one hand, Thomas and Marcion implicitly grasped the negative valences of the metaphor and, accordingly, understood the burglar as the kosmos and the chaos it produced (Thomas), and for Marcion, the demiurge, as the author of ignorance and evil. In their own ways, both Tertullian and Irenaeus interpreted the thief negatively, as the devil or Apostasy, and then were obliged to imagine a logical hiatus between vv. 39 and 40, so that they could insulate Christ from the negative connotations of burglary. The other development began with Q’s use of the parable to introduce a sequence in which the Son of Man (12,40) was elaborated as a disciplinarian, able to dismember a disobedient slave (Q 12,42-46).45 For Q, the Burglar functioned as a ‘text of terror.’ It invoked not only an act that was destructive and that resulted in loss, but also an act from which there was, for the non-elite, very little means of defence. Strong doors and staying awake were not in the end effective against the determined burglar. This kind of appeal is quite consonant with other images invoked by Q: the opening claim of the Baptist that claiming filiation with Abraham is not a defence against the coming wrath; the implication of Q 6,46-49 and 13,26-27 that being an erstwhile follower of Jesus or a kinsman or fellow villager is not enough to guarantee safety or entry into the ‘house’; the disconcerting assertions of Q 11,29-30 and 17,26-27, 28-30 that the Son of Man will come without signs to be observed; and the yet more disconcerting scenario of two women – undoubtedly sisters or cousins in a Galilean village – at work at a grindstone or two kinsmen at table (17,34-35), and one being ‘swept away’ (παραλαµβάνεται) and the other (ἀφίεται). The rhetorical function of such images is to render the alleged securities of the present questionable and debatable and for this task, the metaphor of the burglar was ideally suited. Matthew, however, transformed and domesticated the parable. He placed it in the context of Matt 24,32-36 (from Mark), 24,37-51 (from Q) and 25,1-13.14-30.31-46, thereby emphasizing on the one hand that those in real danger were the ignorance and the impious. On the other hand, he stressed the knowledge, watchfulness, and righteousness of the faithful: these were guarantees against the inevitability of loss that others would 45

See J. S. KLOPPENBORG , The Power and Surveillance of the Divine Judge in the Early Synoptic Tradition, in: J. Verheyden (ed.), Christ and the Emperor: The Evidence from the Gospels (Biblical Tools and Studies), Leuven: Peeters (forthcoming).

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suffer. He accomplished this by framing this unit, first with the claim, taken from Mark, that the disciples indeed ‘learn’ (µάθετε) and ‘know’ (γνώσκετε) that the End was near (24,32-36), even though they could not know the exact time. This implied the necessity to ‘watch,’ a motif added redactionally at 24,42, 43b (ἐγρηγόρησεν ἄν) and 25,13. ‘Watching’ and ‘being prepared’ had themselves become metaphors for something else, as the three concluding parables of the unit explain. Matt 25,1-13.14-30.3146, depict good works or δικαιοσύνη as the guarantees for surviving the inevitable judgment. On the other hand, Matthew redactionally accentuates the ignorance of the impious – Noah’s generation did not know (Matt 24,39a καὶ οὐκ ἔγνωσαν added redactionally) and the stupid (µωραί) had not acquired the requisite ‘oil’ (=righteousness) to survive the judgment. This redactional activity on Matthew’s part has the effect of making ignorance – a central aspect of the parable of the Burglar – more dangerous and threatening to the impious than it is to the pious.46

4. Conclusion Attention to the reality of burglary helps to account for the salience of the image of the burglar in Q 12,39 (and 12,34-35; Gos. Thom. 21.5) and to help us to understand the several ways in which the image was elaborated in the literature of the early Jesus movement. The consistently negative valences of the image were exploited in Q as part of Q’s program of destabilizing and undermining confidence in the present. Those same valences served Thomas, Marcion, Tertullian, and Irenaeus as an apt metaphor for the threat posed by various forces that were aligned against the ultimate interests of humanity. But Q’s connection of the image of the burglar with that of the coming Son of Man, while consonant with other portions of Q’s discourse, became problematic for Matthew, Tertullian, and Irenaeus, who in various ways tried to resist the obvious implications of the juxtaposition of vv. 39 and 40, and to render the burglar, a ubiquitous and dangerous agent for the non-elite person, less threatening to the pious and righteous.

46 The author would like to express his gratitude to Giovanni Bazzana for comments and corrections.

Searching for a Lost Coin: Papyrological Backgrounds for Q 15,8-10 Erin K. Vearncombe ἢ τίς γυνὴ ἔχουσα δέκα δραχµὰς ἐὰν ἀπολέσῃ δραχµὴν µίαν, οὐχὶ ἅπτει λύχνον καὶ σαροῖ τὴν οἰκίαν καὶ ζητεῖ ἕως εὕρῃ; καὶ εὑροῦσα καλεῖ τὰς φίλας καὶ γείτονας λέγουσα· χάρητέ µοι, ὅτι εὗρον τὴν δραχµὴν ἣν ἀπώλεσα. οὕτως, λέγω ὑµῖν, γίνεται χαρὰ ⟨ἔµπροσθεν⟩ τῶν ἀγγέλων ἐπὶ ἑνὶ ἁµαρτωλῷ µετανοοῦντι.1 Or what woman, having ten drachmae, if she should lose one drachma, would not light a lamp and sweep the house and search until she finds? And upon finding she calls the friends and neighbours, saying: Rejoice with me, because I found the drachma which I lost. Just so, I tell you, there is joy before the angels over one repenting sinner.

The debated Q parable of 15,8-10 presents the interpreter with different foci for attention, not the least of which is its position in Q as an authentic Q “parable.” The verses, particularly in their Lucan form, are most commonly taken as an extension of the “twin” parable of the Lost Sheep, exemplifying the theological truth of God and/or Jesus’ soteriological care for the repentant sinner. As the oft-cited Fitzmyer writes, [The woman in the parable] serves to portray divine initiative in seeking out what was lost, again the sinner … The paired parables thus insist that, through the preaching of Jesus, God’s initiative and grace are extended in boundless fashion; they pass over the defection of the sinner and seek out instead such a one for reform. If a human being will exert such effort to recover her property, how much more will God himself expend? This is the Lucan Jesus’ answer to the criticism of the scribes and Pharisees, the reason why he consorts and dines with such sinful people.2

This theological vocabulary is not the only one that applies to the parable of the lost coin. The verses are also read for what they might say about the position of women both within the text itself, in terms of the audience of 1

Greek text, including sigla, follows the reconstruction of Q by the International Q Project: J. M. ROBINSON/P. HOFFMANN/J. S. KLOPPENBORG (eds.)/M. C. MORELAND (managing ed.), The Sayings Gospel Q in Greek and English: With Parallels from the Gospels of Mark and Thomas, The International Q Project, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2002, p. 142. 2 J. A. FITZMYER, The Gospel according to Luke: Introduction, Translation, and Notes (AncB 28-28A), 2. vols., Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday 1981–1985, p. 1080.

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Jesus’ discourse in this context, as well as inside the Jesus movement more generally. The differences between the beginning of the lost coin parable and the lost sheep – Q 15,4a, τίς ⟨⟩ ἄνθρωπος ἐξ ὑµῶν, “Which person (man) is there among you?” vs. Q 15,8a, ἢ τίς γυνὴ, “Or what woman? – have been read as possibly indicating that, due to the missing ἐξ ὑµῶν from 15,8, the discourse was directed to an audience made up entirely of men or addressed only men,3 while the structure of the lost sheep and lost coin as a gender-pairing, a recognized stylistic feature of Q (and of Luke), has raised other queries about the inclusion of women in the Q community.4 Extending beyond the inclusion or exclusion of women in the audience or textual community, the significance of the image of a woman as a figure of God or Jesus, or the seeming lack of significance attributed to this image in interpretive history, has also been considered; Crossan observes, It is interesting that the tradition has tended to interpret the Lost Sheep parable as telling how God and/or Jesus searches for the lost and the sinful, in other words, for us. So, ever since the framing of this parable within the interpretive verses of Luke 15:1–3, 7, the seeker is God and/or Jesus and we are the sought. No doubt it is hard ever to think otherwise after John 10,11.14 had made Jesus announce: “I am the good shepherd.” But the tradition never applied the same interpretation to the twin parable of the Lost Coin so that, God and/or Jesus being again the seeker, Jesus might be made to announce, “I am the good housewife.”5

The lost coin has become the “poor cousin” of the lost sheep in its reception, offering a weaker theological metaphor than the irresistible “good shepherd” of its twin.6 Perhaps because of the interpretive burden placed upon the lost coin by its preceding verses, commentators have very different views on how to treat the parable and on the nature of the parable itself. Its weakness compared to the lost sheep has rendered it marginal or inconsequential; Maloney laments, “[e]ven for a feminist reader, this parable seems problematic See E. KLOSTERMANN, Das Lukasevangelium (HNT 5), 2nd rev. ed., Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 1929, p. 157; L. SCHOTTROFF, Lydia’s Impatient Sisters: A Feminist Social History of Early Christianity, foreword by D. Sölle, trans. B. and M. Rumscheidt, Louisville, Ky.: SCM Press 1995, p. 92; K. E. BAILEY, Finding the Lost: Cultural Keys to Luke 15 (Concordia Scholarship Today), St. Louis, Mo.: Concordia Publishing House 1992, p. 94. 4 Cf. A. BATTEN, More Queries for Q: Women and Christian Origins, BTB 24 (1994), pp. 44-51; W. E. ARNAL, Gendered Couplets in Q and Legal Formulations: From Rhetoric to Social History, JBL 116 (1997), pp. 75-94. 5 J. D. CROSSAN, In Parables: The Challenge of the Historical Jesus, San Francisco, Ca.: Harper & Row 1973, p. 38. 6 See, for example, K. R. SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent: A Comprehensive Guide to the Parables of Jesus, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 2008, p. 111, who writes that the “neglect” of the lost coin parable is “understandable” due to the weakness of its imagery. 3

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because it appears so trivial.”7 Snodgrass comments, “[a]t first glance it seems rather common, common enough to be labeled one of the homeliest and quaintest of Jesus’ parables.”8 It is so “everyday” or “ordinary,” it becomes difficult to work with. Others, however, read the image of the woman’s search as well out of the ordinary, so extraordinary that interpretation again becomes difficult: Hultgren maintains, “[the woman] acts in a particular and unusual way: sweeping diligently, finding, and then at the end inviting guests to rejoice with her – an action that is not simply typical.”9 Scott understands the parable as a burlesque as it depicts “the search of a woman for a thing of little intrinsic value.”10 Derrett reads Passover metaphors into the passage, affirming that the parable is arcane, its meaning known only to a chosen few.11 The woman’s search for the lost coin is either too mundane or too mysterious for its interpreters. 7

L. MALONEY, ‘Swept Under the Rug’: Feminist Homiletical Reflections on the Parable of the Lost Coin (Lk 15,8-9), in: M. A. Beavis (ed.), The Lost Coin: Parables of Women, Work and Wisdom (BiSe 86), London: Sheffield Academic Press 2002, pp. 3438, p. 35. See, however, B. E. REID, Beyond Petty Pursuits and Wearisome Widows: Three Lukan Parables, Interp. 56 (2002), pp. 284-294, p. 288: “Some scholars depict the woman’s search for a lost coin as miserly or her action as trivial. She is seen as scrounging for a lost bit of ‘pin money,’ a find that is only important to her women friends. Such interpretations have no basis in the text and reveal sexist biases. This parable portrays a poor woman who goes to great lengths to find one drachma, one day’s wage, because it is extremely valuable.… For people living at subsistence level, one drachma means the difference between eating and going hungry. The woman in the parable has charge of the household finances and derives her power and status from the way she manages the home. Would a savvy woman expend precious fuel oil and sweep every nook and cranny until a lost coin is found? The parable presumes that the answer is a resounding, ‘Most certainly!’ As one would expect, she chooses to celebrate with the other women from whom she derives her support.” 8 SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 6), p. 111, here drawing on the work of C. G. MONTEFIORE (ed.), The Synoptic Gospels, 2 vols., 2nd ed., London: Macmillan 1927, p. 2:522. 9 A. J. H ULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus: A Commentary (The Bible in its World), Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 2000, p. 65. 10 The value of “woman,” italicized in Scott’s text, is here a negative. B. B. SCOTT, Hear Then the Parable: A Commentary on the Parables of Jesus, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 1989, p. 311. Scott does acknowledge that one drachma “is worth searching for if one is a peasant” ibid., p. 311. 11 See J. D. M. DERRETT, Fresh Light on the Lost Sheep and the Lost Coin, NTS 26 (1979), pp. 36-50, p. 51. Derrett argues that the obscure imagery of the parable makes it highly unsuitable for a gentile audience in particular; Derrett sees a word play behind the focus on the drachmae, coins which in Hebrew can be rendered as zuzim. The term zuzim has another meaning of “those that have moved away, departed”; Derrett therefore suggests, “thus coins are excellent representatives of people who have somehow rolled away through the lack of foresight of the owner …” “one cannot fail to see here the

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Wherever the interpretive emphasis is placed and whether the verses are read as either “trivial” or “shocking,” analysis of the lost coin parable tends to assume a certain social-historical reality behind the image of the woman searching for her lost coin. For example, Bailey states, “[h]ere is a woman who is trusted with the family’s income. She is fully responsible for this money, and does not shirk that responsibility … she has financial responsibility in the house. She is trusted … She accepts responsibility for having lost the coin … She shares her joy and affirms her integrity in a community setting.”12 Similarly, Schottroff asserts, “[t]he text presupposes conditions such as are depicted in Matt. 20,1-16, of human beings who own no more land and who must buy their daily food. The urgency to raise the money (or to find it) is great and ever-present. This is exactly what the parable presupposes, and it patently wants to tell of a typical situation that is known to the hearers.”13 Sometimes these assumptions about the background of the parable can be taken a bit farther afield: Why had she ten such coins? Ten days’ wages saved up by the wife … one immediately thinks of festivals. Extra purchases for the Sabbath are not to be ruled out, but the ten coins are much too much: the sum would do very nicely for a trip of no very great distance for a family to spend a week. It was naturally for the wife to report whether she had saved enough for this purpose, while the really substantial savings must be made, if at all, by the husband putting aside money for his daughters’ dowries: a task that would not be entrusted to the wife’s care.14

Overall, the parable is assumed to portray a woman living at subsistence level who risks the cost of lighting a lamp in the darkness of her small dwelling in order to find a single coin, a coin generally taken as worth “a day’s wage”; the discovery of the coin merits the gathering of friends and neighbours in celebration. Schottroff has gone the farthest in her examination of the socialhistorical background of the parable, collecting literary evidence primarily from the Mishnah in order to illustrate a particular understanding of the woman and her “everyday experience” in a position of dependency, a woman “for whom one of ten drachmas represents a significant portion of

proper task of God’s steward and agent, who searches out Jerusalem …, and knows what is his flock and what not” ibid., pp. 51, 60. One wonders why the parable is included in Luke therefore, and not in Matthew, as the “coins” which have rolled away but still wait in the house to be swept up seems to fit the context of Matthew’s Lost Sheep parable in chapter 18, rather than Luke 15. 12 BAILEY, Finding the Lost (see n. 3), pp. 103-104. 13 SCHOTTROFF, Lydia’s Impatient Sisters (see n. 3), p. 96; see also L. S CHOTTROFF, The Parables of Jesus, trans. L. M. Maloney, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2006, p. 154. 14 DERRETT, Fresh Light (see n. 11), p. 41.

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her means of support.”15 The full range of social-historical evidence has yet to be brought to bear on the study of this parable, however. The unique perspective offered in documentary papyri can help to refocus our attention in the interpretation of these verses and to resolve tensions between what we think we know about the parable – common assumptions made regarding the socio-cultural context of the parable – and what the parable is actually doing, if it can be properly called a “parable” in Q. Exploration of the social domains encoded in Q 15,8-10 suggests that the verses do reflect a very common, “everyday” situation, a situation which may be read as in keeping with the social reality, a reality concerned with “quite local matters,”16 reflected in the formative stratum of Q. The familiar context of the parable further strengthens arguments in favour of its inclusion in Q, as its everyday quality allows it to function as a simple illustration or proof as part of a larger argument, in line with claims concerning the purpose of parables in Q.17 A discussion of the function and situation of the parable in Q will open up space for the examination of the social domains which the parable takes into account, domains including the status of the woman in relation to her ownership of the ten drachmae; the relative value of these drachmae; issues relating to household maintenance, particularly the lighting of a lamp; the woman’s ten coins as her possession or property; the actions of finding and seeking; relationships with neighbours; and causes for and expressions of joy. This examination will allow certain conclusions to be drawn about the socio-cultural background of the parable, conclusions which aid in understanding the position and purpose of the parable within the text of Q.

1. Situating the Parable in Q While scholars count differing numbers of parables in Q, either full narrative parables or shorter similes, Q attributes significance to parables as a medium for the teaching of Jesus: “the Sayings Gospel apparently remembers that Jesus was (among other things) a parabler and seeks to incorporate parables into its discourses.”18 Q 15,8-10 is a debated parable: 15

SCHOTTROFF, Lydia’s Impatient Sisters (see n. 3), p. 91. J. S. K LOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q: The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press/Edinburgh: T & T Clark 2000, p. 198. 17 See J. S. K LOPPENBORG , Jesus and the Parables of Jesus in Q, in: R. A. Piper (ed.), The Gospel Behind the Gospels: Current Studies on Q (NT.S 75), Leiden: E. J. Brill 1995, pp. 275-319, to be discussed further below. 18 KLOPPENBORG , Jesus and the Parables of Jesus in Q (see n. 17), p. 282. A major reason for favouring Lucan composition of the lost coin is given as Matthew’s omission of the parable, see, for example, FITZMYER, The Gospel according to Luke (see n. 2), p. 16

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some commentators hold that Luke either adapted the parable from special source material (Sondergut), or composed it following the pattern of the Lost Sheep, given the strong structural and verbal agreements between the two passages as well as Matthew’s omission of the text.19 Similar criteria for inclusion in or exclusion from Q are applied to the parable, with very different results: Kloppenborg cites stylistic coherence (particularly in relation to the lost sheep parable), the stylistic feature of paired, often gendered (male-female) illustrations (Q 6,44; 9,57-60; 10,13-15; 11,11-12; 11,31-32; 12,24-28; 13,18-21; 17,34-35) and the applied context of the parable in Luke (chapter 15, a series of parables relating to loss, recovery and celebration upon recovery, the lost coin being the “least effective” of the three parables) as arguments which, taken together, provide sufficient grounds for the inclusion of the parable in Q.20 The everyday, lowerincome-level imagery of the lost sheep and the lost coin further suggest to Kloppenborg that the lost coin belongs in Q: Without Luke’s emphasis on repentance and his apologetic for Jesus’ dining habits, the economics of the two parables comes better into focus: a shepherd with one hundred sheep, who must care for them himself, is poor, as is a woman with ten drachmae. Both are quite unlike a man with servants, robes, shoes, rings, and fatted calves or a merchant with a manager, and to whom is owed large sums … In other words, the first two exempla cohere with the poor village or small-town environment otherwise thought to reflect the situation of Q.21

The image of the lost coin does not easily fit its context in Luke (the coin did not lose itself, nor did it repent of being lost); if Luke were in search of another parable to fit the loss/searching/finding paradigm, surely he could have created a more effective example. The parable does seem to fit in with the typical imagery of the realia of town and village life behind the formative stratum of Q. Fleddermann, on the other hand, uses similar criteria to assert the exclusion of the parable from Q. These criteria include shared narrative features (for example, the shared features of the parable pair of the mustard seed 1073; though it is important to recognize that the context of the lost sheep in Matthew is totally different from that in Luke: “Matthieu met la parabole de la Brebis perdue au service d’une exhortation pastorale qui invite à prendre exemple sur la conduite du berger; il eût été maladroit d’ajouter à cet exemple celui d’une femme cherchant sa drachme.” J. DUPONT, Le couple parabolique du Sénevé et du Levain (Mt 13,31-33; Lc 13,18-21), in: G. Strecker (ed.), Jesus Christus in Historie und Theologie: FS H. Conzelmann, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 1975, pp. 331-345, p. 337. 19 See Kloppenborg’s list of references here, K LOPPENBORG, Jesus and the Parables of Jesus in Q (see n. 17), p. 311-312, n. 113; KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 16), p. 98, n. 93. 20 See KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 16), p. 95-98. 21 KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 16), p. 97-98.

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and leaven, Q 13,18-21), parallelism in gender pairs and word pairs (such as confess and deny, Q 12,8-9, as well as seek and find), and Q’s “universalist” motif: “[e]very dimension of life comes crowding into Q’s spare two-hundred-and-twenty verses … All of ancient life finds its way into the lines of Q.”22 Luke, however, uses special material opportunistically, weaving it into Q material very carefully in order to make it sound like Q: As a pragmatic, opportunistic redactor Luke uses whatever he finds available to him. Thus in composing material that he wants to add to Q sections, he borrows motifs and vocabulary from the Q material, so these texts have a Q flavor – they seem more Q-like than they really are.23

The lost coin therefore “feels” like Q material, but is a Lucan creation, aimed at augmenting his theme of forgiveness in chapter 15.24 Both Kloppenborg and Fleddermann observe that parables in Q do not seem to function as “parables” as such, they are not “parabolic”; Fleddermann maintains, “Q subordinates the parable form to the speech form and the dialogue form,”25 and Kloppenborg argues, “[the parables] function for the most part as demonstrative ‘proofs’ and ornaments with both exemplary and allegorical features.”26 These “proofs” aim at making an argument more vivid through description, by “putting the matter in plain sight” through an appeal to customary or ordinary behaviours.27 It is here that the examination of the papyrological backgrounds for the parable may be of assistance in situating the parable in Q. The grounding of the lost coin passage in known, typical realia offers further support for the inclusion of the parable in the “universal” text of Q. It is to these realia that the paper now turns.

22

H. T. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (Biblical Tools and Studies 1), Leuven: Peeters 2005, pp. 66; 91; 122; 669, 672-673; direct quotation from p. 83. 23 FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 22), p. 74. 24 FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 22), p. 772. 25 FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 22), p. 94. 26 KLOPPENBORG , Jesus and the Parables of Jesus in Q (see n. 17), p. 282; Kloppenborg here draws on Aristotle, Rhet. 2.20.1394a.9; Quintilian, Inst. 8.3.72-81; Rhet. Her. 4.47.60; Theon, Progymnasmata 7.1-3; Lucian, Rhet. praec. 6. 27 KLOPPENBORG , Jesus and the Parables of Jesus in Q (see n. 17), p. 301.

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2. Exploring the Parable’s Social Domains Commentaries on the parable of the lost coin often ask questions relating to the social background of the parable, but these questions are rarely answered in any detail. For example, Hultgren asks, Does [the woman] live alone and own [the house] as a private dwelling (which would indicate wealth)? Is it provided for her? Does she live with others in the house, or does she have an apartment within a house? Does she have other assets? Is she a widow?

Hultgren chooses not to attempt to answer his queries, stating simply, “all these questions are actually beside the point of a good story.”28 Certainly, the parable itself does not answer these questions; the reader cannot know whether or not the woman owns the home, is or is not a widow, etc. However, the parable does leave room for certain kinds of questions about the woman which are relevant for the interpretation of the passage, questions such as whether or not a woman may have owned property, been involved in financial management, etc. While differences between Egyptian and Roman Palestinian legal and socio-cultural practices and norms must be acknowledged, papyri do offer interesting information about women’s economic activities that may be thoughtfully used as comparative data. Rowlandson suggests that formal legal institutions and stipulations may not have limited activity, specifically women’s independent economic activity, as much as the interpreter might suppose. Women seem actually to have adapted particular representations of women to their advantage in certain situations. 29 2.1. The Woman and Her Ten Coins A wealth of papyri attest women’s activity in the control, custody and disposal of property: houses, parts of houses, workshops, sums of money, and objects such as furniture, slaves, animals, equipment and tools, clothing, jewellery, produce and provisions, etc. Studies of Fayum villages 28

HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 9), p. 66. See J. ROWLANDSON (ed.), Women and Society in Greek and Roman Egypt: A Sourcebook, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1998, p. 218. Rowlandson mentions a number of interesting cases in which women frame requests or petitions around claims of “female weakness,” not a literal assertion, but rather “a conscious strategy by articulate women to further their own ends by invoking an officially sanctioned image of female weakness” ibid., p. 221. See, for example, P.Oxy. I 71; P.Oxy. XXXIV 2713; P.Neph. 18; SB XIV 11881; P.Giss. 79 (“if I could take hold of the management of our property, I would not hesitate, but in any case, because I am a woman, I exercise every care”). In P.Mich. I 29 (256 B .C.E.), a woman appeals to her widowed status as reason to respond to her petition about her donkey promptly: “I beg and beseech you then not to keep me waiting. I am a widowed woman.” 29

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during the Roman period demonstrate that, as Rowlandson asserts, “women may have accounted for up to one-third of the owners and controllers of real estate,” and the range of goods owned by women in the papyri “shows that the economic activity of women was certainly not confined to their domestic role, even if the weight of the evidence does emphasise the latter.”30 In the context of women managing or owning amounts of money, a context immediately relevant to the interpretation of the Q parable, a few representative examples may be mentioned: P.Bad. II 35 (87 C.E.), for example, concerns Johanna’s ownership of 20 drachmae: You acted badly in changing and going back on your agreement which acknowledged me as the owner of 20 drachmae and the interest. Let me have the principal.

P.Mert. II 83 (late second century C. E.) implies a woman’s control over a certain amount of money: Thermouthion says, “Lysanias said to me, ‘Bring money, so that I may take it to him.’” But she didn’t give it.

P.Brem. 63 (117 C. E.) reports labour unrest in a family labour business, the workers demanding higher wages from a woman named Eudaimonis (“Our workers marched through the city eager for more money”); Eudaimonis reproaches her daughter Aline for only sending her 20 drachmae in her difficult situation (“I already have the vision of being naked when winter starts”). Women could contract to give or receive loans of money (P.Tebt. II 389; P.Oxy. LV 3798; P.Charite 34); buy, sell, or recover property for sums of money (M.Chr. 260; P.Oxy. I 114; P.Lond. VII 1976) and work for or hire individuals for daily, monthly or annual monetary wages (PSI VI 599; BGU IV 1058; P.Corn. 9; CPR XVIII 1). Women’s activity in the agricultural economy is not immediately applicable to the interpretation of the parable, though it is worth noting that women of varying social status could own and manage land, and were involved in the buying, selling, and leasing of land.31 P.Berl.Dem. 3142 and 3144 (199 B.C.E.) detail the sale of land between two women; SB VIII 30

ROWLANDSON (ed.), Women and Society (see n. 29), p. 246. Rowlandson here cites D. W. HOBSON, Women as Property Owners in Roman Egypt, Transactions of the American Philological Association 113 (1983), pp. 311-321 and IDEM, The Role of Women in the Economic Life of Roman Egypt: A Case Study from First Century Tebtynis, Echos du monde classique/Classical Views 28 (1984), pp. 373-390. 31 Though see ROWLANDSON (ed.), Women and Society (see n. 29), p. 220: “Although the Roman administration treated land as the property of single individuals, owners, both male and female, were in fact locked into a nexus of family and local connections which must have restricted the extent to which any individual really exercised a wholly free disposition over his or her property.” Rowlandson also notes that while women could lease land to male tenants, it was extremely rare for women to themselves undertake a tenancy. Cf. ibid., p. 221.

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9790 (middle of the first century B.C.E.) asserts a woman’s claim to an inheritance of land and ownership of other property; P.Mich. V 266 (38 C. E.) relates the transfer of a vineyard from a brother to his sister; P.Köln II 100 (133 C.E.) records the bestowing of land as a bequest from Taarpaesis to her son and two daughters; P.Oxy. XXXIII 2860 (second or third century C. E.) gives instructions about rent collection from Arsinoe to her sister Sarapias; and P.Oxy. VI 932 (late second century C.E.) lists directions on various agricultural matters from Thais to a male recipient, possibly her estate manager.32 Rowlandson observes, listing P.Oxy. XXXVI 2789 (third century C. E.) as an example, that women had special incentive to ensure that agricultural economics were kept up to date, “since they might risk imprisonment for debts owed by their menfolk, presumably because officials regarded the men, if left free, as more capable of clearing the debt.”33 Women could also contract to work as agricultural labourers; P.Fay. 91 (99 C.E.) outlines a contract between Thenetkoueis and Lucius for work at Lucius’ oil-press. In terms of the living situation, the parable is not explicit about whether the women lives alone or as part of a larger household. Private letters do indicate that women, even while part of a household, could experience stress or difficulty in the absence of a male family member; in P.Bad. IV 48 (127 C. E.), Dionysia reprimands her husband for his absence: 16-17, παρὰ πάντα δέ σοι ἐντέλλοµ\α/ι µνησθῆναι, ὥς µε ἐνκα\τα/λέλοιπας µόνην ὡς τοὺς κύνας, καὶ ἐν οἷς παρεκάλεις, οὐκ ἐνέµεινας I bid you remember how you left me alone like the dogs, and you did not abide by what you exhorted …

Dionysia attributes some loss of property to her husband’s absence. Other papyri refer to this stress as well. P.Flor. III 332 (early second century C.E.) describes plans for attack on a woman named Eudaimonis, since her son is away from home (lines 6-8, ἀλλ’ ἐπιζητεῖ νῦν µετὰ καὶ ἄλλων γυµναστικῶν φίλων πῶς ἐπιθῆταί µοι ἀπόντος σου). Isias, the writer of UPZ I 59 (168 B.C.E.), exhorts her brother to return home: 6

32

κοµισαµένη τὴν παρὰ σοῦ ἐπιστολὴν παρ’ Ὥρου, ἐν ἧι διεσάφεις ε\ἶ/ναι (〚γεγον〛εναι)

Translations of these texts are offered in ROWLANDSON (ed.), Women and Society (see n. 29). These are representative examples only; there are many other papyri detailing women’s involvement in agricultural affairs. 33 ROWLANDSON (ed.), Women and Society (see n. 29), p. 236. In P.Mich. I 97 (3rd century B. C. E.), a certain Kallipos asks Zenon to put his wife in prison in his place, so that he can take care of some matters relating to shepherding (Kallipos is not, perhaps, the model of the “good shepherd”).

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ἐν κατοχῆι ἐν τῶι Σαραπιείωι τῶι ἐν Μέµφει, ἐπὶ µὲν τῶι ἐρρῶσθα[ί] σε 10 εὐθέως τοῖς θεοῖς εὐχαρίστουν, ἐπὶ δὲ τῶι µὴ παραγίνεσθαί σε [π]ά[ντ]ων τῶν ἐκεῖ ἀπειληµµένων παραγεγο[νό]τω\ν/ ἀηδίζοµαι ἕνεκα τοῦ ἐκ τοῦ τούτο\υ/ (τούτου) καιροῦ ἐµαυτήν τε καὶ τὸ παιδίο[ν σ]ου 15 διακεκυβερνηκυῖα καὶ εἰς πᾶν τι ἐληλυθυῖα διὰ τὴν τοῦ σίτου τιµὴν καὶ δοκοῦσα νῦγ (νῦν) γε σο\ῦ/ παραγενοµένου τεύξεσθαί τινος ἀναψυχῆς, σὲ δὲ µηδ’ ἐντεθυµῆσθαι τοῦ παραγενέσθαι 20 µηδ’ ἐνβεβλοφέναι εἰς τὴν ἡµετέραν περί\στασιν/ ὡς ἔτ[ι] σοῦ παρόντος πάντων ἐπεδεόµην, µὴ ὅτι γε τοσούτου χρόνου ἐπιγεγονότος καὶ τοιούτων καιρῶν \καὶ/ µηθέν σου ἀπεσταλκότος. ἔτι δὲ καὶ Ὥρου τοῦ τὴν ἐπιστολὴν παρακεκο25 µικότος ἀπηγγελκότος ὑπὲρ τοῦ ἀπολελύσθαι σε ἐκ τῆς κατοχῆς παντελῶς ἀηδίζοµαι. οὐ µὴν ἀλλ[ὰ] ἐπεὶ καὶ ἡ µήτηρ σου τυγχάνει βαρέως ἔχουσα, καλῶς ποιήσεις καὶ διὰ ταύτην καὶ δι’ ἡµᾶς παραγ[ε]νόµενος εἰς τὴν πόλιν … … When I received your letter from Horos, in which you announce that you are in detention in the Sarapeion in Memphis, for the news that you are well I straightaway thanked the gods; but about your not coming home, when all the others who had been detained there have come, I am ill-pleased, because after having piloted myself and your child through such bad times and been driven to every extremity owing to the price of wheat, I thought that now at least, once you got home, I would enjoy some rest. But you have not even thought about coming home, nor given any regard to our situation, how I was in want of everything even while you were still here, not to mention this long lapse of time and such crises, during which you have sent us nothing. Moreover, since Horos, who delivered the letter, reported that you have been released from detention, I am thoroughly ill-pleased. Nonetheless, since your mother also is distressed, please both for her sake and for ours return to the city … 34

These women express different levels of discomfort in the absence of a male member of their household, discomfort ranging from want of provisions to threatened violence. 34

Translation from R. S. BAGNALL/R. CRIBIORE with contributions by E. A HTARIDIS, Women’s Letters from Ancient Egypt, 300 B.C.E.–A.D. 800, Ann Arbor, Mich.: University of Michigan Press 2006, p. 111.

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This selection of documentary texts offers several insights into the Q parable of the lost coin: first, women in possession of sums of money was common or customary, nullifying the question of why the woman in the Q text would have had ten coins (though increasing the possibilities for this possession). She could also have owned her dwelling, though this is not made explicit in the parable. Finally, while the parable does not give any information on the woman’s living situation, private letters suggest that women living on their own, not necessarily as widows, could experience different kinds of stress in the absence of a key male member of their household; stress which could be read as a potential background for Q 15,8-10. 2.2. The Relative Value of the Ten Coins As I have argued elsewhere regarding the Roman denarius,35 the value of one drachma, generally taken to be equivalent in value to one denarius, cannot be reconstructed with any certainty, though it is generally agreed that one drachma was a small amount. The woman’s lost drachma is often compared to the single denarius which the labourers in Matthew’s parable of the labourers in the vineyard, Matt 20,1-15, receive as their daily wage.36 As a daily wage, it was not very much, not “generous” as the landowner asserts in Matt 20; one denarius/drachma would have represented a bare subsistence level of existence. Estimates on how far a drachma would have stretched vary.37 Schottroff discusses the woman’s lost drachma in terms of her wage, though the parable is not explicit about the source of the coins.38 Wages could vary according to duration of work and the types of tasks performed. In Egypt, where the cost of living seems to have been lower than elsewhere in the

35 Cf. E. K. V EARNCOMBE, Redistribution and Reciprocity: A Socio-Economic Interpretation of the Parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard (Matthew 20:1-15), Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus 8 (2010), pp. 199-236. 36 Also citing Tobit 5,15, Tobit’s contract with the angel Raphael (under the guise of Azarias) to pay him one drachma a day for his services. See, for example, H ULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 9), p. 66; S CHOTTROFF, Lydia’s Impatient Sisters (see n. 3), p. 95 and also SCHOTTROFF, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 13), p. 154. 37 For debates on this question refer to F. M. HEICHELHEIM , Roman Syria, vol. 4 in: T. Frank (ed.), An Economic Survey of Ancient Rome, 6 vols., Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press 1933–1940, pp. 4:121-257; E. W. STEGEMANN/W. STEGEMANN, The Jesus Movement: A Social History of its First Century, trans. O. C. Dean, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 1999, pp. 81, 83; D. E. OAKMAN, The Buying Power of Two Denarii: A Comment on Luke 10:35, Forum 3 (1987), pp. 33-38; Z. SAFRAI, The Economy of Roman Palestine, London: Routledge 1994, pp. 105-106. 38 Cf. SCHOTTROFF, Lydia’s Impatient Sisters (see n. 3), p. 93ff.

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Mediterranean,39 wages for agricultural tasks could range from 0.5 obols (1 obol = 1/6 drachma; see, for example, P.Cair.Zen. IV 59748) to 4 obols (P.Flor. III 388; see also P.Lond. I 131).40 The 4 obol figure is also found in Lucian’s Timon or the Misanthrope, where a farmer complains of his misfortune in having to work land as a hired labourer for this low wage (Timon 6; see also 12). The average wage seems to have been 0.5-1.0 obols/day.41 Wages were often paid in food and clothing allowances, or tax payments on behalf of the worker (see, for example, P.Mich. V 355; P.Col. IV 66; especially P.Cair.Zen. I 59028, a letter from a female harp player, Satyra, to Zenon regarding payment in clothing and provisions), making the value of a monetary wage more difficult to determine. It is clear that one drachma or one denarius as a wage would not have been a generous amount, meeting bare subsistence needs only. Alston, drawing on the work of Drexhage, has calculated that 300 denarii can be considered as a “living wage” or subsistence wage in Italy in the late first century and early second century C.E., with an equivalent of 780 in Egypt, in line with Drexhage’s estimate of 753 drachmae, for a six-person household.42 Ten denarii would be equivalent to perhaps two weeks worth of work in the Italian context.

39

See D. SPERBER, Costs of Living in Roman Palestine, JESHO 9 (1966), pp. 182-

211.

40

See A. C. JOHNSON, Roman Egypt to the Reign of Diocletian, vol. 2 in: Frank (ed.), An Economic Survey of Ancient Rome (see n. 37), pp. 2:308. See also P.Lond. VII 1957 + P.Mich. I 27; P.Cair.Zen. V 59827; P.Corn. 25; P.Mich. I 25 (P.Mich. inv. 3199); P.Mich. XV 721; SB III 7013 (P.Mich. inv. 762). P.Mich. III 200 lists wages paid in copper drachmae, manual labourers receiving 20 drachmae a day (equivalent to 1 obol/day). 41 Cf. J. S. KLOPPENBORG, The Tenants in the Vineyard: Ideology, Economics, and Agrarian Conflict in Jewish Palestine (WUNT 195), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2006, p. 376. The figure of 0.5-1.0dr./day is drawn from data from the mid 3rd century B.C .E. After this time the weight of the Ptolemaic copper drachma dropped in relation to that of the Phoenician drachma. This devaluation of the Ptolemaic drachma led to a corresponding rise in wages: for example, between 211–210 and 183–182 B.C. E., 5 copper drachmae (0.5 copper obols) are recorded as the wage for an unspecified worker in P.Tebt. 884 l.6I (211 B.C.E.), a copper obol being identical with a 10 drachmae copper coin; between 130–128 and 30 B.C .E., a copper obol was identical with an 80 drachmae copper coin, and P.Tebt. 121 intr. (94 or 61 B.C. E.) records the wage of an unspecified worker as 50 copper drachmae, or 0.625 copper obols. For the 1st century C .E. the data is, unfortunately, much thinner. From T. REEKMANS, The Ptolemaic Copper Inflation, in: E. Van’t Dack/T. Reekmans, Ptolemaica (StHell 7), Leiden: E. J. Brill/Leuven: Nauwelaerts 1951, pp. 61118, esp. pp. 107-109. 42 Cf. R. A LSTON, Soldier and Society in Roman Egypt: A Social History, London: Routledge 1995, p. 107; H.-J. DREXHAGE, Preise, Mieten, Pachten, Kosten und Löhne im römischen Ägypten bis zum Regierungsantritt Diokletians: Vorarbeiten zu einer

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Ten drachmae, all that is revealed to the reader of the parable, likewise would not be very much as the sum total of the woman’s monetary property, though it must also be kept in mind that in the first century C.E. rural context, coins may not have been as significant in daily transactions as payments in kind.43 While the coin was of little overall value, the woman was not “miserly” in her search for the lost drachma;44 as a woman possessing ten drachmae as the total of her “stored” wealth, the finding of one would significantly impact her daily quality of life. Given the relative value of one drachma/ten drachmae and the woman’s behaviour regarding the one drachma in the parable, indicative of the importance or value of the coin(s) to the woman – the characterization of the woman in the parable as poor is very appropriate. 2.3. Household Maintenance/Lighting a Lamp Q 15,8 describes the woman’s search for her coin in terms of domestic activities: the woman lights a lamp and sweeps her house until she finds the lost drachmae. These activities might be described in terms of household maintenance, actions which constitute a regular part of the upkeep of a dwelling. Few papyri discuss household maintenance as such; P.Mil.Vogl. II 77 (Tebtynis, second century C.E.), a business letter from Diogenis to Kronion, lists the following actions: βλε[πε δ]ὲ µὴ ἔλθω καὶ εὕ̣ρω̣ [τὸν] τοῖχ[ο]ν 10 [ἀν]οικοδόµητον. καὶ [τ]ὴν [ἐ]ξέδραν [σκεύ(?)]ασον καὶ τὸ τρίκλεινον̣ (τρίκλινον) στρωθήτω, [καθ]ὼς Ἀπφὺς θελήσ̣ η̣ [ι] ἐκ[ε]ῖ γενέσ[θα]ι̣, τ̣ ὰ κρόκια καὶ τὰ ἱµάτια ἐκτίνασσε· καὶ βλέπετε τὰ παιδία καὶ τὰ̣ 15 εἰς οἶκον. βλέπε Εἰσιδώρα\ν/ τὴ\ν/ µεικρά\ν/ (µικρά\ν/). Wirtschaftgeschichte des römischen Ägypten 1, St. Katharinen: Scripta-Mercaturae Verlag 1991, p. 453. 43 KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 16), pp. 240-241 writes that coinage “did not serve the interests of the primary (peasant) producers, who were more likely to pay in kind and use coin only for extraordinary purchases or for ‘storage’ of wealth.” Kloppenborg here draws on W. E. A RNAL, Making and Re-Making the Jesus-Sign: Contemporary Markings on the Body of Christ, in: Idem/M. Desjardins (eds.), Whose Historical Jesus? (SCJud 7), Waterloo, Ontario: Wilfried Laurier University Press 1997, pp. 308-319 and M. H. CRAWFORD, Money and Exchange in the Roman World, JRS 60 (1970), pp. 40-48. Alston makes a contrasting comment about Italy, which he describes as “a highly monetarised and developed economy, benefiting from the influx of wealth from the empire”; as a consequence, Italy “may have had higher prices than elsewhere.” A LSTON, Soldier and Society (see n. 42), p. 107. 44 Per FITZMYER, The Gospel according to Luke (see n. 2), p. 1080.

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See that I do not come and find the wall rebuilt. And prepare the exedra, and let the dining room be paved, according to the arrangement which Aphys wants, and shake out the woolen cloths and the cloaks; and watch (plural) the children and the things at home. Watch little Isidora.

Household chores here consist of rebuilding or building up a wall, preparing several rooms, shaking out clothing, and watching children and property. In a similar text, a certain Zoe writes to Apollinarios about some financial matters, and includes an imperative to “look after my house, shake out the wool and the clothing” (lines 21-23, ἔπεχε τῇ οἰκίᾳ µου, ἐκτίνασσε τὰ ἔρια καὶ τὰ ἱµά[τ]ια). Both of these instructions for household maintenance are directed towards men. References to lamps (λύχνοι and λύχνα) are fairly scant in the papyri.45 P.Corn. 1 (SB III 6796; C.Pap.Jud. I 7), dating to 257 B.C.E., gives a very detailed (233 lines long!) daily record of lamp oil which has been assigned to the entourage of a certain Apollonius, down to the eighth of a kotyle (with a mean daily expenditure of about six-and-a-quarter kotyle, one kotyle equaling approximately 0.27 litres). The account indicates that lamp oil was monitored precisely, with amounts being carefully measured.46 Lamps are mentioned more frequently in inventories of temple property and offerings or in descriptions of temple activities. P.Oxy. XII 1453 (30– 29 B. C. E.) offers a sworn declaration by official temple lamplighters, a declaration which includes promises to superintend the lamps and to supply them with the proper amount of oil for daily burning. P.Oxy. XII 1449 (lines 7-16; 213–217 C.E.) lists offerings made in various temples at Oxyrhynchus, including statuary, clothing, jewellery and lamps. Rowlandson presents the document as “temple offerings by women,” though both women and men dedicate items in this text, including lamps.47 References to household upkeep indicate that household chores were undertaken by both men and women, and the proper care of lamps and use of lamp oil, as well as the dedication of lamps as temple offerings, was also the province of both men and women. The woman’s activities in the parable need not be taken as specifically “womanly” occupations. Her lighting of the lamp in order to search for the coin is significant, however; lamp oil seems to have been carefully managed, and in a situation where the single drachma was worth a search, in a subsistence-level circumstance, the lighting of the lamp was not a negligible or insignificant action. 45 References to sweeping in the papyri are hard to unearth; search terms related to sweeping (the verb σαρόω) also bring up references to variations of Καῖσαρ, and I am still sifting through this material. For a reference to the purchase of lamps, see P.Oxy. LVI 3860. 46 P.Theon 21 (Oxyrhynchus; 160 C.E.) offers a similar accounting. 47 Cf. ROWLANDSON (ed.), Women and Society (see n. 29), pp. 67-68.

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2.4. The Ten Coins as Possession or Property This social domain, the ten coins as possession or property, refers specifically to dowries, as the lost coin has been linked to the woman’s dowry, specifically to a headdress made up of pierced coins which formed a part of the woman’s dowry.48 This interpretation of the coin has been roundly refuted,49 but it is worth stating that the coin as adornment hypothesis is further disproved in descriptions of dowries preserved in papyri. Ancient dowries often include both monetary amounts (“hard cash”), as well as lists of items of property (clothing, jewellery, furniture, etc.), which are also generally described in terms of their monetary value or weight in bronze, silver or gold. P.Mich. II 121 recto IV i (Tebtynis, 42 C.E.) is a helpful representative example. This dowry consists of a sum of money which is not calculated as “hard cash,” but rather the equivalent value of property or possessions: “200 silver drachmae, including a robe valued at sixty silver drachmae …”, as well as “silver armlets worth twelve drachmae of uncoined silver, and a bronze bowl, and a bronze mirror, and two bronze water jars, and a tin water jar weighing five minae …” etc. Rowlandson describes this dowry as belonging to “a bride from an apparently quite humble village family,” though Tamarres’ dowry is more valuable than most of the marriage contracts from Tebtynis between 42–46 C. E.; the median value of a dowry, from the papyrological data, is eighty drachmae.50 The point here is that marriage contracts generally list items of jewellery and adornment, a category in which “headdress” would be included, in terms of their equivalent value or weight in bronze, silver, etc. These items are not described as being made up of coins themselves, but are described in terms of their worth in coins. A “headdress” might be described as valuing ten drachmae, but not as made up of ten drachmae. Papyrus records of dowries and marriage contracts indicate that the “headdress” interpretation for the women’s ten drachmae is invalid.

48 This idea comes from J. J EREMIAS, The Parables of Jesus, trans. S. H. Hooke, 2nd rev. ed., New York, N.Y.: Charles Scribner’s Sons 1972, pp. 134-135 and E. F. F. BISHOP, Jesus of Palestine: The Local Background to the Gospel Documents, London: Lutterworth Press 1955, p. 191. 49 See, for example, SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 6), p. 114; DERRETT, Fresh Light (see n. 11), p. 40; HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 9), p. 66; SCOTT, Hear Then the Parable (see n. 10), pp. 311-312; K LOSTERMANN, Das Lukasevangelium (see n. 3), p. 157, etc., who all note that pierced coins would have lost their value as coinage, citing m. Kelim 12.7. 50 Cf. ROWLANDSON (ed.), Women and Society (see n. 29), p. 321; see also K. H OPKINS, Brother-Sister Marriage in Roman Egypt, CSSH 22 (1980), pp. 303-354, p. 342. For other examples of dowries, see P.Coll.Youtie II 67; BGU IV 1103; P.Cair.Masp. III 67310 + P.Lond. V 1711; P.Mich. VII 434; P.Giss. 2; P.Eleph. 1.

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2.5. Searching and Finding The Lucan performance of the parable of the lost coin emphasizes the assiduousness of the woman’s search for her coin; the author of the gospel includes the adverb ἐπιµελῶς, “carefully,” “attentively,” or “diligently,” a term that occurs only here in the New Testament, as a modifier in the woman’s hunt. The diligence of the search differentiates the parable from that of the lost sheep, and becomes the interpretive key for the metaphoric understanding of the parable: as a woman will search so carefully for one lost coin, how much more will God search for God’s people?51 The woman must expend a great deal of effort in her search in order for the parable to function metaphorically: “If a human being will exert such effort to recover her property, how much more will God himself expend?”52 In the Lucan context, this interpretation of the parable answers the criticism of the scribes and Pharisees against Jesus’ dining with people identified as sinners. Without the adverb, the parable in Q is more disengaged from a metaphorical transference. This does not mean that the woman’s search for the coin was not a careful one, nor is it less detailed: she lights a lamp, sweeps the house and searches until she finds. Care or diligence does occur in documentary papyri in contexts related to work, where work needs to be undertaken with precision or attention (see, for example, P.Cair.Zen. III 59397; P.Mich. I 55; P.Mich. I 78; P.Tebt. III/1 703). However, without ἐπιµελῶς, the woman’s action is read as rather ordinary or mundane, a reading for which occurrences of seeking and finding in documentary papyri offer support. Texts describing searching/finding (ζητέω/εὑρίσκω) most frequently relate to the search for common objects, in agricultural or domestic contexts. P.Mich. I 26, a business letter from the Panakestor archive (Zenon archive) dating to 257 B.C. E., mentions a search for some seed: “And the black poppy seed, we will search for it and, if we find some somewhere, we will send it to you” (τὴν δέ µέλαιναν µήκωνα ζητήσοµε[ν] καὶ, ἐὰν που εὑρεθῆι, ἀποστελοῦµέν σοι). P.Mich. I 74, a business letter from third century B.C.E. Philadelphia, includes a search for wine: Antipatros to Zenon, greeting. I spoke to Chairon about the Chian wine, and for some time he said that he would search for it, but at last he replied that he could not find it (καὶ 51

See S NODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 6), p. 115: “The woman’s searching is an analogy of God’s initiative and diligence in seeking to recover his people”; H ULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus (see n. 9), p. 67: “The woman, a metaphor for God, carries out her search for the lost with extreme care”; L. RAMAROSON, Le coeur du troisième Évangile: Lc 15, Bib. 60 (1979), pp. 348-360, p. 352; among many other examples. 52 FITZMYER, The Gospel according to Luke (see n. 2), p. 1080.

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ἕως µέν τινος ἔφη ζητήσειν, ὕστερον δέ µοι ἀπεκρίθη µὴ εὑρίσκειν), but he said that he would find some sweet Egyptian wine or else requested us to accept the price in money …

P.Tebt. III/1 759 (226 B.C.E.) accuses the addressee of being essentially incompetent: “owing to your indifference I shall have to search for the animals that are required but are dead.” P.Tebt. I 56 (late second century B. C. E.) describes a search for land after an individual’s plain was inundated. Searching and finding in these instances relates to familiar domestic or agricultural items. Ζητέω and εὑρίσκω are also used in searches for people. In P.Mich. VIII 503, a private letter from the late second century C.E., Sarapion writes to Antonius Minor, explaining his failed attempts to find Antonius on the course of a journey to Alexandria. Sarapion tried to find Antonius in several locations, but was unable to (“Ι sought to discover if you were there. And because I did not find you, I made diligent inquiries about your health, and I went upcountry in joy to learn that you were well”; φαίνοµαι οὖν τὰ δέοντα καὶ τεθηνκότα ζητήσειν διὰ τὴν σὴν ολιγωρείαν ἐζήτησά σε εἰ ἐκεῖ γέγονας, καὶ µὴ εὑρών σε ἐπολυπραγµόνησα περὶ τῆς σωτηρίας σου …).53 P.Corn. 48, an official letter from the third century C.E., threatens a search for the addressee if the sending of an object is neglected: “… send, knowing that if you neglect, if it is understood that the debt should be calculated, it will be a search for you.” Finally, P.Oxy. XIV 1680 (third or fourth century C.E.) conveys a somewhat desperate attempt of a son to search for his father, and a fear of not finding the father’s body, should something happen to him: καὶ γὰρ πρὸ τούτου σοι ἐδήλωσα λυπούµενος ἐπὶ τῇ ἐν ἡµῖν σου ἀπουσίᾳ, µήπως ὃ µὴ εἴοι (εἴη) σοι γένοιτο καὶ µὴ εὕρωµέν σου τὸ σῶµα. κα[ὶ γὰρ] 10 πολλάκις σοι δηλῶσαι {σοι} βού̣[λοµαι ὅτι] βλέπων εἰς τὸ ἀσύστατον σ̣ ῆ̣[µα τι ἠ-] θέλησα ἐνχαράξαι σοι. καὶ νῦν γὰρ ἀκούω ὅτι σφόδρα Ἡράκλειος ὁ νῦν ἐπίτροπος ζητεῖ σε, καὶ ὑπονοοῦµαι ὅτι πάν15 τως πάλιν τί ποτε ἔχει πρὸς σέ. And indeed I have explained you before about my distress concerning your absence from among us, lest something bad should happen to you and we may not find your body. For I have often wished to explain to you that, seeing how unpredictable things are, I wanted 53

See also P.Oxy. LIX 3991, a letter from Sarapias to her brother (2nd –3rd century C .E.), which includes a search for someone reliable through whom a letter might be delivered.

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to stamp a mark on you. And now I hear that Herakleios the present administrator is actively searching for you, and I suspect that he must have some new allegation against you.

While processes of searching and finding can be somewhat dramatic, as in the last example, ζητέω and εὑρίσκω seem to be used in generally average or usual circumstances. These descriptions of searches and discovery, sometimes of people but often of goods or property, indicate that the search of the woman for her lost coin again has precedent in everyday circumstances; her action may easily be read as an example of typical behaviour, as a text which is “deliberately styled to emphasize the normalcy of seeking out lost items even when one has others.”54 Not all of the texts concern lost items, but the complex of searching/finding is certainly an ordinary one. 2.6. Relationships with Neighbours Q 15,9 describes the gathering together of “friends and neighbours” upon the woman’s discovery of the missing coin: “And upon finding she calls the friends and neighbours, saying: Rejoice with me, because I found the drachma which I lost.” Schottroff mentions the significance of the “solidarity of women’s neighbourhoods” in this context: “women prepared dough and cooked meals together, they would borrow and lend utensils, and, as this text indicates, they shared their joys and sorrows.”55 Papyri do frequently include greetings mainly to kin, but also to friends and neighbours, indicating a certain closeness of relationship, but these greetings are rarely gender-exclusive: for example, SB V 7600, a private letter dating to 16 C. E., concludes with a calvaryman’s greetings to his neighbours, his children and to his mother Teillia, as a postscript to the letter: [ἀσπάζοµαι τοὺς γείτ]ονας, τὰ πεδία (παιδία) καὶ T[ε]ιλλίαν τὴν µ[η]τέρα. The first part of this greeting is missing from the document, but the editor has filled in the phrase with [ἀσπάζοµαι τοὺς γείτ]ονας, suggesting that “I greet my neighbours” was a fairly common sentiment or stock phrase. The most common use of γείτων in the documentary papyri is in legal or official contexts, in texts relating to land or property such as leases, purchases or descriptions of inheritance. The adjectival “neighbouring” is used to place property in relation to adjacent – “neighbouring” – lots. P.Oslo III 109 (late first century C.E.) offers a typical example of this use of the word:56 54

KLOPPENBORG , Jesus and the Parables of Jesus in Q (see n. 17), p. 315. SCHOTTROFF, Lydia’s Impatient Sisters (see n. 3), p. 98. 56 There are many, many examples of this use of “neighbouring” in the papyri, too many to list here; other examples include P.Mich. V 322a; P.Ness. III 31; P.Paris 17; BGU I 83; P.Petaus 23; P.NYU II 16; P.Oxy. III 499. 55

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∆ικ̣ ρ̣ άνου Πετεσούχου τοῦ ∆ικράνου (πέµπτον) µέρος οἰκίας καὶ Πτολ̣ [λί]ωνος ἀδελφοῦ ὁµοίως (πέµπτον) µέρος τῆς αὐτ(ῆς) οἰκίας· γείτονες γιτονες τῆς ὅλ(ης) οἰκίας νότου ∆ηµητρίο̣ [υ] οἰκία, βορρᾶ ῥύµη βασιλ(ική), λιβὸς Τασουχα[ρίο]υ οἰκία, ἀπηλ(ιώτου) Ῥοδίνης οἰκία. Dikranes, son of Petesouchos, son of Dikranes, (there belongs to me) a fifth part of a house and Ptollionos my brother, likewise a fifth part of the same house; neighbouring the whole house: to the south, the house of Demetrios, to the north, the street of colonnade, to the west, the house of Tasoucharion, to the east, the house of Rodine.

It is worth noting that you had at least to know the names of your neighbours in order to bound your property in this fashion: “On the west, the house of Tasoucharion …” In this case, two of the properties mentioned in this statement of ownership belong to women: Tasoucharion and Rhodine are both feminine names. Another interpretive possibility for the festivities surrounding the found coin relates to the elimination of concerns of theft: Malina and Rohrbaugh mention that the woman’s calling of friends and neighbours to witness the find would absolve the woman of stealing the coin,57 and Bailey similarly suggests that the woman’s sharing of her joy “affirms her integrity in a community setting.”58 Derrett reverses the responsibility for the coin, stating that the woman’s neighbours would want to celebrate the finding of the drachma as its discovery in the home of its rightful owner would absolve them of the prospect of theft. All those who had visited the house (Derrett limits these visitors to females only) would have been under suspicion of theft while the coin was missing; the finding of the coin elicits genuine pleasure from these neighbours, as it clears them of the crime.59 The potential nuance of theft takes on an interesting significance in light of mention of neighbours and relationships with neighbours in the papyri. One could not necessarily count on neighbours as a support system; rather, relationships with those on one’s borders could be fraught with tension. In agricultural contexts, individuals complain that neighbours damaged their land or crops; for example, P.Tebt. I 49 (113 B. C. E., from Kerkeosiris) details a petition from Apollophanes to Menches regarding the flooding of Apollophanes’ land: Apollophanes writes that his neighbour let out the water on his own land and flooded the land belonging to Apollophanes 57

See B. J. MALINA/R. L. ROHRBAUGH, Social-Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels, 2nd ed., Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2003, p. 288. 58 BAILEY, Finding the Lost (see n. 3), p. 104. Bailey maintains that no one would have noticed if a coin had gone missing from a neighbour’s “cash box”; the woman could have chosen to keep the entire event secret, but wanted to go out of her way to prove her reliability and honesty. 59 Cf. DERRETT, Fresh Light (see n. 11), pp. 41-42.

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while it was being ploughed. As a result, Apollophanes lost twenty artabai of wheat, and asks that his neighbour pay him for his losses. Similarly, in P.Tebt. I 50 (112/111 B.C. E., from Kerkeosiris), Pasis complains to the village scribe that while he was away from home on business, his neighbour Lykos dammed up a conduit running through both their properties, resulting in damage to Pasis’ property, as the land was not properly irrigated. There are cases where agricultural neighbours work together; P.Kar.Goodsp. 42 (mid second century C.E., Arsinoite nome) indicates that neighbours could receipt for one another, if one was illiterate, in order to ensure that a neighbour received an advance of grain. However, cases of “working against” are preserved much more commonly than situations of “working together.”60 Complaints about neighbours and suspicion regarding neighbours are not limited to agricultural contexts. SB XVI 12326, a private letter of unknown provenance dating to the late third century C. E., relates a mother’s frustration at the behaviour of her daughter, who has caused some hostility among their neighbours: πολλὰ ἐντέτριπτ[αί µοι ὑπὸ] τῆς θυγατρός µου. εἰδὲ δὲ πόσον [ὀργίσασα] τὸν σταθµοῦχον καὶ τοὺς γείτονας α̣ [ὐτοῦ ἠγανά]κτησε κατ' αὐτοῦ. ἐξέδυσέν µε σύµ̣ π̣ [α]ν καὶ ἦρκεν µου τὰ χρυσάφια καὶ τὰ ἐ[νώ]τια καὶ ἔδω̣ κέν µ̣ ο̣ ι ̣ .....κον κ̣ [ι]θ̣ῶν̣ι ν 10 ἵνα ο̣ ὕ̣τ̣ω ς ἐ[ c 8].[….].ια δὲ δ̣ ι ῆ̣ ̣ρ α. παρ̣ [ακ]ά̣λεσον̣ [ὑπὲρ ἐµοῦ τὸ]ν θ̣ εὸν ἵνα µε ἐ̣λ̣ ε̣ήσῃ… 5

I have been totally worn out by my daughter. Just look how greatly she provoked the landlord and his neighbours, and then became vexed with him! She stripped me of everything and took away my gold ornaments and my earrings, and gave me… a used tunic so that… Ask the god on my behalf to take pity on me …

The living situation that the text assumes is not entirely clear; perhaps the mother and daughter rent a private dwelling, or they might share a property with “the landlord and his neighbours.” What is clear is that the relationship with the neighbours has become strained, and the mother blames her daughter for this tension. SB XII 11125, a private letter from Nilos to his brother Nemesion (Karanis, 51 or 57 C. E.), implies another situation of tension among neighbours; while the sender leaves the circumstances somewhat vague, Nilos requests that his brother watch someone in another household: 60

land.

See also P.Tebt. II 410, a complaint about a neighbour encroaching upon some

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Νῖλος Νεµεσίωνι τῶι ἀδελφῶι χ[α]ίρειν. ἐχάρην λίαν ἀκούσας ὅ̣[τι] ἐλύθης. γίνωσκε τὴνγυ5 ναῖκαν (γυναῖκα) τὴν ἐν τοῖς Καλλωνίου ἐληλυθένε (ἐληλυθέναι) εἰς Καρανίδαν (Καρανίδα) καὶ ἐρώτηµε (ἠρώτηµαι) [ὑ]π̣ ὸ φίλων. διὸ γράφω σοι ἵνα διὰ χερὸς (χειρὸς) αὐτὴν σχῇς. ἀδιάσ̣ ιστον (ἀδιάσειστον) αὐτὴν ποι̣ήσις (ποιήσεις). 10 µὴ οὖν ἄλλως ποιήσῃς. ἔρρω(σο). ιβ (ἔτους) µηνὶ Σεβαστῶι ε Nilos to Nemesion his brother, greetings. I was exceedingly joyful upon hearing that you were freed. Know that the woman, the one in Kallonios’ house, has arrived at Karanis and I have been asked by friends (?). On which account I write to you so that you may keep her in hand (keep an eye on her). You will keep her from being extorted. Therefore do not do otherwise. Farewell. 12th year, month of Sebastos 5.

This letter suggests that neighbours may have been subject to some surveillance; while it is unclear where the house of Kallonios might be in relation to that of Nemesion, Nilos asks his brother to “keep an eye” on this woman, seemingly to keep her from some harm. Several texts implicate neighbours in harmful or hostile situations – specifically, circumstances of theft – very explicitly. P.Oxy. X 1272, dating to 144 C.E., details a theft which took place while a woman, Diemous, was away from home: 5

[……]ο̣ ν ἀπέκλε̣[ισα τὴν θύ]ρ̣[αν τῆς ...] [……] οἰκίας µου καὶ τὴν τοῦ πεσσοῦ θύ[ραν, καὶ ἐ]π̣ ανελθοῦσα εὗρον ὃ εἶχ[ο]ν ἐν τῷ [πεσσῷ π]ανάριον ἐξηλωµένον βαστα[χθέ]ν̣ τ̣ων ἀπ' αὐτοῦ κλαλίων χρυσῶν 10 [δύο ὁ]λκῆς µναιαίων τεσσάρων καὶ Βήσι[ος χρ]υ̣ σ̣οῦ καὶ κλαλίων ἀργυρῶν µ̣ εγ̣ ά̣[λω]ν δύο καὶ τὴν τοῦ πεσσοῦ θύραν ἐπηρ[µ]ένην. ὑπόνοιαν οὖν ἔχουσα κατὰ [τ]ῶν γειτόνων µου Ἡρᾶτος Καλάθου 15 [γερ]δίου καὶ τῶν σὺν αὐτῷ ἐργαζοµένω[ν] διὰ τὸ εὐυπέρβατον εἶναι τὴν οἰκίαν µου ἀπὸ τῆς τοῦ Ἡρᾶτος οἰκίας ἐπιδίδωµι τὸ ἀναφόριον… … I shut up the door of my house and the door of the terrace, and when I returned I discovered that a box which I had in the terrace had been gone through and from it two

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gold bracelets of the weight of four minae, a gold figure of Bes, and two large silver bracelets had been taken, and the door of the terrace had been raised. Since I have some suspicion against my neighbours Heras son of Kalathus, weaver, and those working with him, because my house is easy to access from the house of Heras, I present this petition …

Diemous suspects Heras and his associates because her house was easy for them to access, suggesting that one’s community of near neighbours could be a source of potential anxiety, not necessarily a support system. Leaving her house, she felt the need to secure her property during her absence; this was not enough to prevent a theft. 61 Similarly, in P.Oxy. VIII 1121, a petition to a beneficarius dating to 295 C. E., Aurelia Techosis accuses two neighbours of stealing property which she had inherited from her mother. While she was busy planning her mother’s funeral, two of her mother’s neighbours “in the same house where my mother lived,” a certain Sotas and Papontos, took the opportunity to steal some of her mother’s property, including an amount of gold, furniture, and clothing.62 Aurelia writes that the neighbours “lawlessly stripped all the spoils, from what motivation, I do not know.” The occurrences of γείτων in the documentary papyri offer a number of contexts for interpretation of the term, including simple greetings, and the mention of neighbours as a way to define property boundaries. In private letters and petitions, neighbours are often mentioned in negative contexts, as suspected of theft or involved in situations of hostility. Of course, petitions are not likely to record amicable relations between neighbours; however, the treatment of neighbours as suspicious suggests that there is a precedent in the social history of Q 15,9 for the interpretation of the celebration of the finding of the coin as linked to the elimination of the 61

SB XIV 12106, a private letter by an unknown author, Oxyrhynchus dating to the 2 century C. E., may also be relevant here; it mentions a certain “Persis, the woman who is in there,” as having the key to the addressee’s “wall cupboard” (or possibly, window or entrance): θυρίδ[ο]ς σου κ̣ λεῖδα ἔχι (ἔχει) Περ̣ [σὶς] ἡ ἔσω ἐκεῖ. What “the woman who is in there” means is unclear, but it indicates a certain access to property by an individual possibly unrelated to the addressee – a neighbour? 62 A. Techosis suggests that a “large amount” of gold was taken. Another complication in trying to estimate prices, costs or monetary worth based on documentary evidence comes from a frequent “overstatement” of worth in papyri, particularly in petitions. SB IV 7469 (193 C.E., Theadelphia) asserts that a piglet is worth 100 drachmae, when the average seems to be between 16-24 drachmae, for example. Kelly emphasizes, “This is not to say that some documents do not mention values that are apparently reasonable, but over-valuing appears often enough for us to be skeptical of claims about prices in general … it seems more probably that petitioners and scribes were perfectly aware that values of items of moveable property were debatable.” B. K ELLY, Petitions, Litigation, and Social Control in Roman Egypt (Oxford Studies in Ancient Documents), Oxford: Oxford University Press 2011, p. 55; cf. DREXHAGE, Preise (see n. 42), p. 307. nd

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possibility of theft. Neighbours were not necessarily a source for solidarity but could be a source of potential mistrust or conflict, requiring some surveillance or monitoring. This may be the case particularly in a situation of rural displacement, such as that in first-century C.E. Galilee, where the move from smallholders to large estates and tenancy, and to the village, disrupted kinship networks and led to “neighbours” other than kin.63 While Q 15,9 indicates that the woman initiates the celebration, rather than neighbours who are happy to be acquitted of prospective guilt, a situation of anxiety or conflict is a valid interpretive possibility for the Q text, given the depiction of neighbours and relationships with neighbours to be gleaned from the papyri. 2.7. Causes for Joy The Q text of the lost coin includes an imperative to celebrate: “rejoice with me, for I found the coin which I lost.” The common verb χαίρω is favoured in the reconstructed text of Q, over the Lucan συγχαίρω. Χαίρω is used frequently and in a variety of contexts, but these contexts all express what might be called “typical” expressions of joy: events that are of consequence to the author of the text, but in an everyday, generally ordinary circumstance.64 These occurrences of the verb in the papyri emphasize that the woman’s joy upon finding the coin, her imperative to her friends and neighbours that they rejoice with her, can be interpreted as a “normal” event, articulated in language common to daily life. Several examples from the papyri help to make this point clear. In P.Col. VIII 215 (SB V 7660), a private letter from Philadelphia dating to ca. 100 C.E., Apollonous writes to her mother, Thermouthas, about the health of the mother; the daughter had heard that Thermouthas was ill, and expresses her joy upon subsequently hearing that Thermouthas had recovered. Apollonous writes, “I want you to know that I heard from those who have come to me that you have been ill; but I was glad to hear that you have gotten better.” The letter continues with further requests for the mother to care for herself and for the little girl, mentions goods to be supplied and received, and concludes with various greetings.

63

See KLOPPENBORG V ERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 16), p. 238; D. A. FIENSY, The Social History of Palestine in the Herodian Period: The Land is Mine (SBEC 20), Lewiston, N.Y.: Mellen 1991, pp. 119-149, esp. p. 135. 64 I am not including here the extremely common use of the verb as introductory greeting: χαῖρε! or χαίρειν! See G. A. GERHARD, Untersuchungen zur Geschichte des griechischen Briefes I: Die Formel ὁ δεῖνα τῷ δεῖνι χαίρειν, Ph. 64 (1905), pp. 27-65; R. W ACHTER, Griechisch χαῖρε: Vorgeschichte eines Grußwortes, MH 55 (1998), pp. 65-75.

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Joy upon hearing of health is a common, almost “stock” sentiment;65 this joy is expressed also in a second century C.E. letter from Iulius Germanus to his sister Tasoucharion (P.Mich. VIII 495): “I received your letter from Secundus and was greatly delighted concerning the health of (the children?)…” (lines 9-13, ἐκοµισάµην σου τὸ ἐπιστόλιον παρὰ Σεκούδου (Σεκούδου), καὶ µεγάλως ἐχάρην περὶ τῆς σωτηρισας (σωτηρίας) τῶν ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣ ̣[ων… ). The letter concludes with further wishes for health and various greetings to members of Tasoucharion’s household.66 In a letter to her “brother” (possibly her husband) Iulius Terentianus dating to 99 C. E. (P.Mich. VIII 464, Karanis), Apollonous uses χαίρω in a different, yet also familiar or everyday context. Apollonous writes to let Terentianus, a soldier, know that in his absence, she is managing his household affairs: paying rent, finding seed for the fields, collecting rents, and taking care of his children by finding them a (female) teacher. She then expresses her joy upon hearing that he has obtained two belts: “I understood from Thermouthas that you obtained for yourself a pair of belts (?), and I was much delighted” (µ̣ ε̣τ̣ έλαβον παρὰ Θερµουθᾶ[τ]ος ὅτι εὐ̣πόρ̣ η̣ σε[ς] (εὐπόρησας) σεαυτῷ ζεῦγος βαλτίων, καὶ ἐχάρησα πολλά). Apollonous continues the letter with details about the productivity of the olive groves, and concludes with greetings from Iulius Terentianus’ kin. Delight upon hearing about the procurement of belts is certainly a fairly “everyday” sentiment; χαίρω is used here in a context of “ordinary” or unexceptional reality. Joy is commonly communicated in contexts of visits by friends and family members, though the reference to these visits is often part of a larger set of requests or instructions, again suggesting that this expression of delight is part of an everyday reality. In a letter to his brother Netios dating to between 50–75 C.E., Capito gives advice to Netios regarding a potential lawsuit, requests several household items, and then mentions his joy upon hearing that Netios and his brother67 are sailing in to him:

65 H.-J. KLAUCK with the collaboration of D. P. BAILEY, Ancient Letters and the New Testament: A Guide to Context and Exegesis, Waco, Tex.: Baylor University Press 2006, pp. 31-33 lists a “health wish” and “expression of joy” (sometimes one and the same thing; sometimes separate elements) as standard components of a letter proem. 66 See also BGU II 632, a letter from Apion to his sister Sabina: “… when I learned that you are well, I rejoiced exceedingly” (lines 9-10, ἐπιγνούς σε ἐρρωµένην λίαν ἐχάρην). 67 Familiar terms are often used in documentary papyri to express close relationship, but not necessarily kin relationship; calling someone one’s “brother” does not necessarily indicate that they are biologically related. See E. DICKEY, Literal and Extended Use of Kinship Terms in Documentary Papyri, Mn. 57 (2004), pp. 133-176.

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ἐρεῖς ὅτει (ὅτι) ὁ ἀδελφός σου ἔρχεται καὶ ἅµα σ̣ οῦ κατατι ̣η ̣ ̣η εἴνα (ἵνα) ὁµοῦ καταλύωµεν. ἤκουσα γὰρ ὅτει (ὅτι) καὶ σὺ εἰσπλ̣ ῖ̣ς ̣ (εἰσπλεῖς). ἐχάρην oὖν ὅτει (ὅτι)σὺν σοὶ ἔρχ̣ε ̣τ̣[αι]. (O.Bern. 2 198; Berenike)

You say that your brother is coming and together with you . . . so that we may lodge together. For I heard that you are sailing in also. Therefore I was delighted that he is coming with you.

Similarly, in an Alexandrian letter from the early second century C.E., Tabetheus exhorts her brother Claudius Tiberianus to visit her and his children, as they were so happy to hear that he had arrived in Alexandria: “When I learned that you had come to Alexandria, I rejoiced greatly, with my whole household …” ([πυθοµένη ὅτι παρ]εγένου ε[ἰ]ς Ἀλεξάνδρ[ει]αν λίαν ἐχάρην [µ]ετὰ [τῶ]ν ἐµ[ῶν] πάντων, P.Mich. VIII 474). This is not the only letter from Tabetheus to her brother that expresses joy in relation to a visit; in P.Mich. VIII 473, Tabetheus describes her anxieties concerning her son Satornilus, who had recently committed a murder, and reminds Tiberianus that he is indebted to her because she sent him garments and rations. He therefore owes Satornilus some help in settling the situation. Tabetheus uses the verb twice: she expresses her joy that her brother sent her son to her, so that she could embrace him (ἐχά[ρ]η\ν/ π[ῶς] ἔπεµψάς µ[ο]υ τὸν υἱον ἕως αὐτὸν προσκυνήσω, line 4), and later in the letter, states that while her son caused her a great deal of distress, she rejoiced that he remained alive ([ἐθλί]βην λο[ι]π̣ [ηθείς] (λυπηθείς) ὑ̣π’ αὐτον (αὐτοῦ), ἐχάρην ὅλως [ὅτ]ι ἔζηκε[ν. lines 26-27). While the above letters express joy at the physical presence of a person, the receipt of a letter could itself substitute for a physical visit, and was itself an occasion for delight. The sender of P.Mich. VIII 482 (133 C.E.; Karanis) expresses very deep attachment to a brother, sending him greetings from his wife, daughter and even from his horse Bassos, and reminding him that he/she will follow the brother, if he should take the sender with him, wherever he might go. The letter concludes, “And do not hesitate to write letters, since I rejoiced exceedingly, as if you had come” (line 22, καὶ µὴ ὀκ[νή]σῃς γράφων ἐπιστολάς, ἐπὶ (ἐπεὶ) ἐχάρην λίαν λίαν ὥς σου παραγεναµενος (παραγεναµένου)). In the same way, P.Wisc. II 73, a letter from Didymus to Hephaistion dating to 122–123 C.E., Oxyrhynchus, reports several ordinary events, mainly concerning the procurement of clothing. However, the letter begins with the mention of a letter previously received by the sender, which caused the sender and his household to “rejoice exceedingly” and to “have a party” or feast. The relevance of this document to the lost coin parable warrants its presentation in full:

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∆ίδυµος Ἡφαιστίωνι τῶι κυρίῳ µου ἀδελφῶι χαίρειν. ὡς ὁ κάª̣̣ ι̣στος ἡµῶν ἀδελφὸς Φαβάνων σοι γράφει ἁδρῶς ἐχάρη5 µεν καὶ ἑωρτὴν (ἑορτὴν) ἤξαµεν λαβόντες σου τὸ ἐπιστόλιον. οἱ οὗν ἡµῶν πάντες ἔρρωνται καὶ πλεῖον ἴ̣σ̣ χυκαν λανβόντες (λαβόντες) σου τὰ γράµµα̣ τ̣α. ἀνόκνως οὖν τοῦ10 το ποίει εἰδὼς ὅτι ἡ προσδοκία̣ ἡµῶν ἐστιν αὕτη. ἔγραψέ σοι περὶ πάντων Φα̣ βάνων καὶ περὶ τῶν ὀσπρ̣ ειδίων (ὀσπριδίων). περὶ τούτου οὐδὲν ετελεσθαι (τετέλεσται). τὴν γὰρ ἀτιµίαν Θέ15 ων σοι κατ’ ὄψιν λαλήσει. τα̣ χ̣έ̣ω̣ ς ̣ οὖν σπεῦσον, ὡς ἔγραψας, πρὸς ἡµᾶς γενέσται (γενέσθαι). ἀσπάζονταί σε οἱ ἐν οἴκωι πάντες. Θερµούθι κιθῶ20 να χιτῶνα) ἀγό̣ρ ασ̣ ο̣ ν. γυµν̣ ή̣ ἐ̣στιν. κόµισαι τὴν σύνθεσιν παρὰ Θέωνος τοῦ τιµιωτάτου. ἐρρῶσ(θαι), κύριε, εὔχο(µαι), χρηστέ. Didymos to Hephaistion my lord brother greetings. As our very good brother Phabanon writes to you we very much rejoiced and had a party upon receiving your letter. All of us are well and even more so after receiving your letter. Therefore do it without hesitation knowing that this is our expectation. Phabanon wrote to you about everything and about the mixed produce. Concerning that nothing has been done. For Theon will tell you in person how cheap it is. Hurry quickly and come to us as you wrote. Everyone in the household greets you. Buy a tunic for Thermouthis. She is naked. Receive the set of clothes from Theon the most honoured. I pray for your good health, worthy lord.68

Comparable to the parable of the lost coin, a normal circumstance, the receipt of the letter, is cause for joy, a joy that is expressed in the giving of a feast or celebration. The mention of the spontaneous celebration upon receipt of Hephaistion’s letter in P.Wisc. II 73 is quite unique. Generally, celebrations were prearranged: invitations to dinners and special occasions are well documented, and papyri also attest to the ordering of supplies or the 68 See also SB XIV 12177 (early 3rd century C.E.; unknown provenance), a business letter from Sarapion to Apollonios, expressing joy upon receiving a letter: lines 3-4, κοµισάµενοί σου γράµµατα σήµερον ἡτις (ἥ) ἐστίν κ λείαν (λίαν) ἐχάρηµεν, “When we received your letter today, which is the 20th, we rejoiced exceedingly.”

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contracting of entertainment in advance of a celebration or festival. P.Mich. I 97 (Arsinoite nome, third century B.C.E.), for example, lists requests of wheat and wine for a festival; P.Worp. 52 (Karanis, second century C.E.) makes arrangements for a festive pig, and P.Oxy. LXXIV 5015 (Thosbis, third century C.E.) details a contract with performers for five festive days during the month of Phaophi. Time off of work for festivals or celebrations was also prearranged (P.Wisc. I 5, the lease of a slave to a weaver, Oxyrhynchus, 185 C.E.), and expenses after the fact were also carefully recorded (P.Col. IV 99, between 261–229 B. C.E.: a fawn, a lamb, and two Chian jars of wine). Only “proper” persons could be enlisted to contribute to the festivities surrounding official visits; P.Petaus 47 (Arsinoite nome, 185 C.E.) lists people “wealthy enough and appropriate” to provide for the visit of a praefect.69 It is not likely that spur-of-the-moment celebrations would be regularly mentioned in documentary papyri. However, χαίρω is a commonly used verb in everyday, typical situations of joy or pleasure: good health, a visit, receipt of a letter, even the purchase of belts.70 In one case, receipt of a letter did lead to a spontaneous party, according to the sender of the letter. The occurrences of χαίρω in these contexts suggest that the woman’s joy at finding her coin, her call to her friends and neighbours to “rejoice with her,” would have been a fairly typical kind of event. The everyday quality of this kind of expression of joy might therefore resist easy identification with the application given to the parable in verse 10: “just so, I tell you: there is joy before the angels over one repenting sinner,” or an easy trans69 For more papyri on celebrations, see the following: on weddings and wedding feasts: P.Fay. 132; P.Mich. II 124, verso; P.Oxy. I 110; P.Oxy. I 111; P.Oxy. I 181; P.Oxy. III 524; P.Oxy. VI 927; P.Oxy. XII 1486; P.Oxy. XII 1487; P.Oxy. XII 1579; P.Oxy. XII 1580; P.Oxy. XXXIII 2678; P.Oxy. LI 3646; P.Sakaon. 38; P.Yale I 78; SB V 7745; SB XIV 12077; on feasts or dinner invitations: P.Coll.Youtie I 51; P.Coll.Youtie I 52; P.Fouad. I 76; P.Koln. I 57; P.Mich. II 123, Recto, col. I; P.Mich. II 123, Recto, col. XVII; P.Mich. VIII 511; P.Oslo. III 157; P.Oxy. III 523; P.Oxy. IV 747; P.Oxy. VI 926; P.Oxy. XII 1484; P.Oxy. XII 1485; P.Oxy. XII 1579; P.Oxy. XII 1580; P.Oxy. XIV 1755; P.Oxy. XVII 2147; P.Oxy XXXI 2592; P.Oxy XXXVI 2791; P.Petaus. 40; P.Tebt. I 33; P.Yale I 85; on entertainment: P.Col. VIII 226; P.Hib. I 54; P.Oxy. III 475; P.Oxy. VII 1025; P.Oxy. X 1275; P.Oxy. XXXIV 2721; P.Tebt. I 180; SB III 6945; W.Chr. 477. Inscriptions detailing instructions for dinners or festive meals of voluntary associations may also be considered in this context. 70 The Lucan συγχαίρω occurs much less frequently, in only two instances that I have found: BGU IV 1080, congratulations on a wedding, and UPZ I 148; in this latter case, a woman expresses delight that the addressee is “learning Egyptian letters,” for “now when you come to the city you will teach the slave boys in the establishment of Phalou … the enema doctor, and you will have a means of support for old age”; πυνθανοµένη µανθάνειν σε Αἰγύπτια γράµµατα συνεχάρην σοι καὶ ἐµαυτῆι, ὅτι 5νῦγ (νῦν) γε παραγενόµενος εἰς τὴν πόλιν διδάξεις παρα Φαλου ̣ ̣ῆ τι \ἰατροκλύστηι/ τὰ παιδάρια καὶ ἕξεις ἐφόδιον εἰς τὸ γῆρας.

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fer from “known reality” to metaphor.71 Without the stress on the application, the metaphorical transfer of the joy over the coin to the joy over the repentant sinner, the familiar quality of the woman’s joy, a quality in line with expressions of joy in the papyri, comes into focus.

3. Conclusions Interpretation of the parable of the lost coin tends to make certain assumptions about the socio-historical background of the passage, without delving too deeply into these social realia; for example, Snodgrass comments casually, “[the woman] is probably just a typical woman one would find in any Galilean village.”72 A study of the evidence from documentary papyri relating to the social domains of the parable both brings new, relevant data for interpretation to light, and also works to confirm some of these assumptions about the parable, to give them more depth or weight, or to throw some of them into question. Most commentators suppose that the woman is poor; evidence from the papyri on the relative value of a drachma in relation to the position of the woman substantiates this supposition. Appeals are frequently made to the woman’s close relationship with her friends and neighbours; letters and petitions suggest that association with one’s neighbours was often more tense than commonly assumed, liable to cause some apprehension or even suspicion. Much is made of the woman’s joy, her call to celebrate with her, in the parable, linking the parable with the application of v. 10, the “joy before the angels”; the woman’s expression of joy in Q, the use of the familiar verb χαίρω, is shown to be a very ordinary articulation of delight or happiness, creating some friction between the parable and its application. This friction between the social realia behind Q 15,8-9 and the application of v. 10 adds to previously felt tension concerning the relationship of these verses; if the parable is about forgiveness, the metaphor of the coin does not provide the happiest fit. The parable’s context in Luke 15 centres on the return of the penitent, which does not work for the lost coin, and not easily for the lost sheep either, particularly with Luke’s use of ἀπόλλυµι to describe the movement of the sheep, rather than Matthew’s πλανάω. In both Q and Luke, the coin does not lose itself, and cannot reunite with the woman of its own will; it must be found, passively, by an active agent. 71 See the definition of parables given by R. Z IMMERMANN, Die Gleichnisse Jesu: Eine Leseanleitung zum Kompendium, in: Idem et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu, Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2007, pp. 3-46, p. 25. 72 SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 6), p. 113.

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Scott understands the tension between the image of the lost coin and the link to the repentant sinner to indicate that perhaps the “original” parable did not include the application: “we can see traces of an originating structure … whose verbal skin has been rearranged.”73 The typical, familiar quality of the image of the lost coin, enhanced through a consideration of relevant documentary evidence, is so discordant with the repentant sinner application that the inclusion of verse 10 in Q does not make ready sense. The International Q Project places the parable before Q 17,3-4, on forgiving repeatedly, and 15,10 can link to this context through lexical correlation (ἁµαρτωλός, µετανοέω/ἁµαρτάνω, µετανοέω). Without v. 10, the parable fits perhaps more easily into Fleddermann’s context for the lost sheep, after Q 17,33, on finding or losing one’s life. Fleddermann interprets the lost sheep parable in terms of “Jesus’ saving ministry”: The parable picks up and transforms the word pair “to find” and “to lose” from the preceding saying. To find one’s life one must lose it. Now the reader sees the Christological foundation for the saying on losing one’s life. Within the context of Q the shepherd could only be Jesus. One can lose one’s life only because Jesus has already found the lost.74

If applied also to the lost coin, this interpretation would suggest that as the woman recognizes the value of a single coin and searches her house in order to find it, how much more, in Fleddermann’s terms, has Jesus searched and found the “lost” life; the value of life is found in its soteriological “losing.” The social backgrounds of the parable suggest that there may be another interpretive possibility for the lost sheep/lost coin parable pair in this context, a possibility which allows the social dimensions of the passage to stand on their own: one only appreciates the value of something once it is lost. In both parables, losing an item of significant value is not the single focus, but rather the loss of the item from a larger whole or group; the loss of the item from the whole is what underscores its value. The two parables, “deliberately styled to emphasize the normalcy of seeking out lost items even when one has others,”75 can be taken as demonstrative “proofs” of the maxim about losing and finding one’s life. It is in the losing that the value is found. This potential function for the parable of the lost coin in Q lines up with Kloppenborg’s “new discursive context” for parables in Q: “[n]ot only are authentic parables of Jesus presented in a way that does nothing to underscore their revelatory … or kerygmatic … or extravagant … character; they are also placed alongside other ‘parables’ … which are any73

SCOTT, Hear Then the Parable (see n. 10), p. 310. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (see n. 22), p. 777. 75 KLOPPENBORG , Jesus and the Parables of Jesus in Q (see n. 17), p. 315. 74

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thing but extravagant or shocking.”76 The image of the woman searching for her lost coin is indeed “anything but extravagant or shocking”; the social background provided through papyrological evidence demonstrates that the loss and recovery of the coin would have been heard as a totally mundane, ordinary (non-)event. The poor situation of the woman, also highlighted through papyrological data, further links to the social location of the formative stratum of Q, speaking to “persons living at or near a subsistence level, who experienced the conflict endemic in town and village life.”77 The parable may have had particular relevance for a female audience; the search through the various social domains of the parable yielded an impressive number of examples of management of property and possessions, household maintenance, seeking and finding, relationships with neighbours, and expressions of everyday joy from the pens of, or dictated by, women. Socio-historical data from the documentary papyri clearly opens up new opportunities for the interpretation of the parable of the lost coin, Q 15,8-10.

76 77

KLOPPENBORG , Jesus and the Parables of Jesus in Q (see n. 17), p. 287. KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 16), p. 200.

Was erzählt die Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld? Sozio-historische und theologische Aspekte von Q 19,12-26 Christoph Heil Bei der Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld ist vieles unklar und in Diskussion – angefangen von der Rekonstruktion über die sozialgeschichtlichen Hintergründe der Sprachbilder bis zu deren metaphorisch-theologischen Aussage. Angesichts der Schwierigkeiten, vor die die Parabel stellt, sehen manche einen Ausweg darin, eine metaphorisch-theologische Aussage der Parabel zu bestreiten. Es muss also auch gefragt werden, ob es sich statt um eine theologische Parabel um eine sozialethische Beispielgeschichte handelt. Ich gehe wie folgt vor: Zunächst muss begründet werden, dass es sich um eine Parabel aus dem schriftlichen Q-Dokument handelt, und es muss die Parabel in ihrem wahrscheinlichen Wortlaut rekonstruiert werden. Dann erst kann sinnvoll untersucht werden, was die Parabel denn eigentlich erzählt. Ich gehe auf zwei Punkte ein: Zunächst wird nach der Bedeutung der Exposition gefragt, in der ein Mensch zehn seiner Sklaven Geld anvertraut. Dann soll die Charakterisierung des dritten Sklaven und dessen Herrn geklärt werden: Welche theologischen Aussagen werden mit den beiden verbunden – oder geht es gar nicht so sehr darum, sondern eher um politische Botschaften? Ein traditionsgeschichtlicher Exkurs behandelt kurz die Frage, ob die Q-Parabel auf den historischen Jesus zurückzuführen ist, und wenn ja, welche Absicht er mit der Parabel verbunden hat. Ein kurzes Fazit fasst schließlich die wichtigsten Ergebnisse zusammen.

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1. Stammt die Parabel aus Q? Die matthäischen und lukanischen Versionen der Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld weichen erheblich voneinander ab, so dass einige eine gemeinsame schriftliche Vorlage in Q bestreiten.1 Ulrich Luz z.B. sieht hinter Mt 25,1430 par. Lk 19,11-27 keinen schriftlichen Q-Text, da die Übereinstimmungen im Wortlaut zu gering seien, sich bei unserer Parabel die durch Lukas erhaltene Q-Akoluthie nicht auch von Matthäus her bestätigen und auch nicht in einem größeren Q-Block eindeutig platzieren lasse.2

1

So u.a. B. H. GREGG , The Historical Jesus and the Final Judgment Sayings in Q (WUNT II, 207), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2006, S. 2 Anm. 3, 33f., 281-286; J. D. G. D UNN, Jesus Remembered (Christianity in the Making 1), Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 2003, S. 421f. Anm. 210; A. VON H ARNACK, Sprüche und Reden Jesu: Die zweite Quelle des Matthäus und Lukas: Beiträge zur Einleitung in das Neue Testament II, Leipzig: J. C. Heinrichs 1907, S. 85, 87 (Bei Mt 25,29 par. Lk 19,26 nimmt Harnack allerdings eine Q-Vorlage an; vgl. HARNACK, a.a.O., S. 28, 102); A. D. JACOBSON, The First Gospel: An Introduction to Q (Foundations & Facets: Reference Series: New Testament), Sonoma, Calif.: Polebridge Press 1992, S. 244; J. SCHMID, Matthäus und Lukas: Eine Untersuchung des Verhältnisses ihrer Evangelien (BSt.F 23/2-4), Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder 1930, S. 342f.; A. SCRIBA, Echtheitskriterien der Jesus-Forschung: Kritische Revision und konstruktiver Neuansatz (THEOS 74), Hamburg: Verlag Dr. Kovač 2007, S. 129-136; P. V ASSILIADIS, The Nature and Extent of the Q-Document, in: Ders., ΛΟΓΟΙ ΙΗΣΟΥ: Studies in Q (University of South Florida International Studies in Formative Christianity and Judaism 8), Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press 1999, S. 39-59, S. 55; A. W EISER, Die Knechtsgleichnisse der synoptischen Evangelien (StANT 29), München: Kösel 1971, S. 256; J. R. WOHLGEMUT, Entrusted Money (Matt. 25:14-28): The Parable of the Talents/Pounds, in: V. G. Shillington (Hg.), Jesus and his Parables: Interpreting the Parables of Jesus Today, Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1997, S. 103-120, 105. Ohne Begründung und in souveräner Ignoranz der historisch-kritischen Forschung vertritt N. T. Wright die These, die beiden Fassungen im Matthäus und Lukasevangelium gehen auf die mehrfache, variierende Verwendung der Parabel durch Jesus zurück; vgl. Jesus and the Victory of God (Christian Origins and the Question of God 2), Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 1996, S. 632f. 2 U. Luz, Das Evangelium nach Matthäus (EKK I), 4 Bde., Zürich: Benziger Verlag/Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag 1985–2002, S. 3:404, 495f.; DERS., Matthäus und Q, in: R. Hoppe/U. Busse (Hgg.), Von Jesus zum Christus – Christologische Studien: FS Paul Hoffmann (BZNW 93), Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 1998, S. 201-215, S. 204. So auch seine Schüler: C. RINIKER , Die Gerichtsverkündigung Jesu (EHS.T 653), Bern: Peter Lang 1999, S. 237 (die Parabel sei „im Q-Bereich tradiert und erweitert, aber nicht in den schriftlichen Text der Quelle aufgenommen, sondern mündlich weitererzählt worden“); M. SATO, Q und Prophetie: Studien zur Gattungs- und Traditionsgeschichte der Quelle Q (WUNT II 29), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 1988, S. 22f., 44, 81, 91.

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Die Mehrheit in der Forschung geht jedoch davon aus, dass Mt 25,14-30 par. Lk 19,11-27 auf Q zurückgehen. 3 Es sind nämlich doch auch wörtliche 3

So u.a. J. BECKER, Jesus von Nazaret (GLB), Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 1996, S. 73 Anm. 36; R. VON BENDEMANN, Zwischen ∆ΟΞΑ und ΣΤΑΥΡΟΣ: Eine exegetische Untersuchung der Texte des sogenannten Reiseberichts im Lukasevangelium (BZNW 101), Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 2001, S. 435; A. DENAUX, The Parable of the Talents/Pounds (Q 19,12-27): A Reconstruction of the Q Text, in: A. Lindemann (Hg.), The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus (BEThL 158), Leuven: Leuven University Press/Peeters 2001, S. 429-460, bes. S. 430f.; M. EBNER , Face to face-Widerstand im Sinn der Gottesherrschaft: Jesu Wahrnehmung seines sozialen Umfeldes im Spiegel seiner Beispielgeschichten, Early Christianity 1 (2010) S. 406-440, S. 418; H. T. F LEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (Biblical Tools and Studies 1), Leuven: Peeters 2005, S. 837f.; M. FRENSCHKOWSKI, Q-Studien: Historische, religionsgeschichtliche und theologische Untersuchungen zur Logienquelle, Habilitationsschrift (masch.), Johannes Gutenberg-Universität Mainz 2000, S. 342f.; J. FREY, Die Fragmente des Nazoräerevangeliums, in: C. Markschies/J. Schröter/A. Heiser (Hgg.), Antike christliche Apokryphen in deutscher Übersetzung: I. Band: Evangelien und Verwandtes: Teilband 1, 7. Aufl. der von Edgar Hennecke begründeten und von Wilhelm Schneemelcher fortgeführten Sammlung der neutestamentlichen Apokryphen, Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2012, S. 623-648, S. 633, 635; J. GNILKA, Das Matthäusevangelium (HThK I), 2 Bde., Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder 1986–1988, S. 2:356f.; C. HEIL, Lukas und Q: Studien zur lukanischen Redaktion des Spruchevangeliums Q (BZNW 111), Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 2003, S. 197f.; P. H OFFMANN, Studien zur Theologie der Logienquelle (NTA NF 8), 3. Aufl., Münster: Aschendorff 1982, S. 5; C. KÄHLER, Jesu Gleichnisse als Poesie und Therapie: Versuch eines integrativen Zugangs zum kommunikativen Aspekt von Gleichnissen Jesu (WUNT 78), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 1995, S. 164f.; H. KLEIN, Das Lukasevangelium (KEK 1/3), Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 2006, S. 607; J. S. KLOPPENBORG, Jesus and the Parables of Jesus in Q, in: R. A. Piper (Hg.), The Gospel Behind the Gospels: Current Studies on Q (NT.S 75), Leiden: E. J. Brill 1995, S. 275319, S. 295f.; M. LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender: Die Logienquelle als erzählte Geschichte (Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 32), Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt 2010, S. 139f. mit Anm. 13; J. LAMBRECHT, The Parable of the Throne Claimant (Luke 19,11-79), in: Ders. (V. Koperski [Hg.]), Understanding What One Reads: New Testament Essays (Annua Nuntia Lovaniensia 46), Leuven: Peeters 2003, S. 112-124, S. 113; G. LÜDEMANN, Jesus nach 2000 Jahren: Was er wirklich sagte und tat: Mit Beiträgen von Frank Schleritt und Martina Janßen, 2. Aufl., Lüneburg: zu Klampen 2004, S. 300 (die Q-Fassung sei jedoch nicht mehr rekonstruierbar); D. LÜHRMANN, Die Redaktion der Logienquelle (WMANT 33), Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag 1969, S. 70f.; C.-P. MÄRZ, Zur lukanischen Rezeption der Gerichtspredigt Jesu in Q, in: R. Bieringer/G. Van Belle/J. Verheyden (Hgg.), Luke and His Readers: FS Adelbert Denaux (BEThL 182), Leuven: Leuven University Press/Peeters 2005, S. 1-24, S. 19; W. S CHENK, Synopse zur Redenquelle der Evangelien: Q-Synopse und Rekonstruktion in deutscher Übersetzung mit kurzen Erläuterungen, Düsseldorf: Patmos-Verlag 1981, S. 123-129; S. SCHULZ, Q: Die Spruchquelle der Evangelisten, Zürich: Theologischer Verlag 1972, S. 288 Anm. 174, 293; C. M. TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity: Studies on Q, Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1996, S. 147, 294f.; H. WEDER, Die Gleichnisse Jesu als Metaphern: Traditions- und redaktionsgeschichtliche Analysen und Interpretationen (FRLANT 120), 4. Aufl., Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1990, S.

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oder fast wörtliche Übereinstimmungen zu konstatieren4 und die Erzählstruktur ist in beiden Fassungen sehr ähnlich. Die Unterschiede lassen sich in den meisten Fällen auf die Redaktionsarbeit der beiden Evangelisten zurückführen, was auf eine gemeinsame schriftliche Q-Vorlage hinweist.5 So entschieden sich auch das International Q Project (IQP) und die Herausgeber der Critical Edition of Q mit {B} [= „überzeugende Wahrscheinlichkeit“] für die Zugehörigkeit der Parabel zu Q.6

2. Rekonstruktion des Q-Wortlauts Ohne zumindest den Versuch, den Text, den man untersuchen möchte, vorher so gut es geht zu rekonstruieren, kann es m.E. keine Fortschritte in der Q-Forschung geben. Einige lehnen es mit großer hermeneutischer Geste ab, „hinter die Texte“ zu fragen und deren wahrscheinliche Vorlagen zu rekonstruieren. Dieser Position trat kürzlich Barbara Aland in Bezug auf die Textkritik entschieden entgegen: Das Ziel der Textkritik sei zwar nicht die Rekonstruktion des „Urtextes“, aber doch des einen „Ausgangstextes“ der handschriftlichen Überlieferung.7 Zwischen der neutestamentlichen Textkritik und der Q-Rekonstruktion bestehen erhebliche Unterschiede,8 193; D. ZELLER, Kommentar zur Logienquelle (SKK.NT 21), 3. Aufl., Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk 1993, S. 83. Vgl. ferner die Liste bei J. S. KLOPPENBORG, Q Parallels: Synopsis, Critical Notes, and Concordance (Foundations and Facets: Reference Series), Sonoma, Calif.: Polebridge Press 1988, S. 200. 4 Vgl. die Auflistung bei HARNACK, Sprüche (s. Anm. 1), S. 85f. 5 Zu Q 19 als Teil des schriftlichen Q-Dokuments vgl. J. S. KLOPPENBORG, Q, the Earliest Gospel: An Introduction to the Original Stories and Sayings of Jesus, Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press 2008, S. 56f. 6 Vgl. P. HOFFMANN, Anmerkungen zur Textrekonstruktion der Critical Edition of Q, in: P. Hoffmann/C. Heil (Hgg.), Die Spruchquelle Q: Studienausgabe: Griechisch und Deutsch, 3. Aufl., Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft/Leuven: Peeters 2009, S. 115-143, S. 142. 7 B. ALAND, Was heißt Abschreiben? Neue Entwicklungen in der Textkritik und ihre Konsequenzen für die Überlieferungsgeschichte der frühesten christlichen Verkündigung, in: E.-M. Becker/A. Runesson (Hgg.), Mark and Matthew: I: Comparative Readings: Understanding the Earliest Gospels in their First Century Settings (WUNT 271), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2011, S. 55-76, S. 56. Aland bestreitet ferner, dass die schriftliche Überlieferung des Neuen Testaments je so „frei und lebendig“ war, wie es von manchen behauptet wird (ALAND, a.a.O., S. 66-68). 8 Vgl. A LAND, Abschreiben (s. Anm. 7), S. 75f. James M. Robinson beschrieb zwar die Arbeitsweise des International Q Project als „modeled after papyrology and textual criticism“ (J. M. ROBINSON/P. HOFFMANN/J. S. KLOPPENBORG [Hgg.], The Critical Edition of Q: A Synopsis Including the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, Mark and Thomas: With English, German and French Translations of Q and Thomas [Hermeneia Supplements], Leuven: Peeters/Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2000, S. LXVI), aber

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aber auch bei Q geht es um die bestmögliche Rekonstruktion des einen Ausgangstexts, den Matthäus und Lukas nach der Zweiquellentheorie neben dem Markusevangelium benutzt haben.9 Die Rekonstruktion von Q 19,12-13.15b-26 wurde vom International Q Project im November 1994 in Chicago behandelt.10 Die forschungsgeschichtliche Datenbasis wurde von Jon B. Daniels erstellt; die Evaluationen stammten von ihm, Linden E. Youngquist und Ronald A. Piper. Eine überarbeitete und aktualisierte Fassung des Materials ist in der Reihe Documenta Q geplant. 2.1 Der Ort von Q 19,12-13.15b-26 in Q Mit der Critical Edition of Q kann man davon ausgehen, dass Lukas den Ort der Parabel in Q bewahrt hat, nämlich im Schlussteil über das bevorstehende Ende zwischen dem Abschnitt über den Tag des Menschensohns (Q 17,23f.37.26f.?28f.?30.34f.) und dem Gerichtswort über die zwölf Stämme Israels (Q 22,28.30).11 Matthäus hat die Q-Akoluthie aufgebrochen, indem er in Mt 24f. zwischen Q 17 und Q 19 andere Gerichtsworte aus Q (12,39f.42-46; 13,25) eingebaut und Q 22 in eine Nachfolgerede auf dem Weg von Galiläa nach Jerusalem platziert hat.

das ist als heuristisches Modell gemeint, nicht als genaue Gebrauchsanweisung. Vgl. auch die Bemerkungen bei J. S. KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q: The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press/Edinburgh: T & T Clark 2000, S. 101-104, S. 110f. 9 Robinson nennt als Rekonstruktions-Ziel der Critical Edition of Q (s. Anm. 8, S. LXVII): „a written Greek text of Q which functioned as an archetype, copies of which were available to the Matthean and Lukan communities and used by their Evangelists“. 10 Vgl. M. C. MORELAND/J. M. ROBINSON, The International Q Project: Work Sessions 23–27 May, 22–26 August, 17–18 November 1994, JBL 114 (1995) S. 475-485, S. 483-485. 11 So auch FRENSCHKOWSKI, Q-Studien (s. Anm. 3), S. 343; HEIL, Lukas (s. Anm. 3), S. 198; P. H OFFMANN, Mutmaßungen über Q: Zum Problem der literarischen Genese von Q, in: Lindemann (Hg.), The Sayings Source Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 255-288, S. 267; J. S. K LOPPENBORG, The Formation of Q: Trajectories in Ancient Wisdom Collections (Studies in Antiquity & Christianity), Philadelphia, Pa.: Fortress Press 1987, S. 164f.; D ERS., Excavating Q (s. Anm. 8), S. 370; LÜHRMANN, Redaktion (s. Anm. 3), S. 75, 90; C. MÜNCH, Gewinnen oder Verlieren (von den anvertrauten Geldern) – Q 19,12f.1524.26, in: R. Zimmermann u.a. (Hg.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu, Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2007, S. 240-254, S. 243. MÄRZ, Rezeption (s. Anm. 3), S. 19f. schränkt ein, „dass die Einordnung der Parabel in Q nicht eindeutig zu klären ist und ihre Position deshalb auch für das Verständnis des Textes nicht argumentativ ins Spiel gebracht werden kann“ (MÜNCH, a.a.O., S. 20). Das erscheint übervorsichtig, da Lukas zwar die Parabel pointiert vor den Einzug Jesu in Jerusalem (Lk 19,28-40) gestellt hat, aber dennoch ihre ursprüngliche Position zwischen Q 17 und Q 22 bewahrt haben dürfte.

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2.2 Q 19,12f. (Mt 25,14-18 und Lk 19,12-14) – Exposition: Sklaven erhalten von ihrem Herrn Geld anvertraut Beide Evangelisten führen die Q-Parabel redaktionell ein: Mt 25,14 knüpft mit ὥσπερ γάρ an den Schluss der Parabel von den klugen und törichten Jungfrauen (Mt 25,1-13) an: „Wacht also, denn ihr wisst nicht den Tag und nicht die Stunde!“ (Mt 25,13).12 Lukas stellt der Parabel den von ihm gebildeten Vers Lk 19,11 voran;13 wie an anderen Stellen (vgl. Apg 1,6f.) dämpft er hier apokalyptische Erwartungen.14 Dann leitet er die Parabel mit εἶπεν οὖν in 19,12 ein. Das matthäische γάρ und das lukanische οὖν sind als redaktionelle Kontextpartikel für Q zu streichen, aber bei der Frage, ob am Beginn der Q-Parabel ὥσπερ oder εἶπεν stand, zeigt die Critical Edition of Q eine geringe Wahrscheinlichkeit {D} für εἶπεν an.15 Im Lesetext wird dies jedoch nur durch zwei Punkte angedeutet. Der Beginn der Q-Parabel hat eine Parallele in Mk 13,34: Ὡς ἄνθρωπος ἀπόδηµος ἀφεὶς τὴν οἰκίαν αὐτοῦ καὶ δοὺς τοῖς δούλοις αὐτοῦ τὴν ἐξουσίαν ἑκάστῳ τὸ ἔργον αὐτοῦ καὶ τῷ θυρωρῷ ἐνετείλατο ἵνα γρηγορῇ.

Während Matthäus wie Markus nur von einem ἄνθρωπος spricht, formuliert Lukas ἄνθρωπός τις und hat damit den Q-Wortlaut erhalten.16 Ab dem Adjektiv εὐγενής beginnt in Lk 19,12 jedoch ein neuer Erzählstrang, der nicht auf Q zurückgeht. Lk 19,12b.14 gehört zusammen mit Lk 19,14. 15a.17d.19b.27 zur Erweiterung unserer Q-Parabel im dritten Evangelium.17 Daraus erschloss Joachim Jeremias ein eigenes „Gleichnis vom 12

Vgl. F LEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 839; S CHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 288. 13 Vgl. F. Bovon, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (EKK III), 4 Bde., Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag/Zürich: Benziger Verlag 1989–2009, S. 3:288, 292; R. Bultmann, Die Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition: Mit einem Nachwort von Gerd Theißen (FRLANT 29), 10. Aufl., Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1995, S. 208, 360; J. T. CARROLL, Response to the End of History: Eschatology and Situation in Luke–Acts (SBL.DS 92), Atlanta, Ga.: Scholars Press 1988, S. 97; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 838; H OFFMANN, Studien (s. Anm. 3), S. 48; LAMBRECHT, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 113; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 288; M. WOLTER, Das Lukasevangelium (HNT 5), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2008, S. 617. 14 Vgl. J. P. MEIER, A Marginal Jew: Rethinking the Historical Jesus: II: Mentor, Message, and Miracles (AncB Reference Library), New York, N.Y.: Doubleday 1994, S. 425. 15 Ganz ähnlich auch D ENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 432f. 16 Vgl. SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 288; gegen FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 839f. Unentschieden bleibt DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 433. 17 HARNACK, Sprüche (s. Anm. 1), S. 85 vertrat die ganz unwahrscheinliche These, dass Matthäus eine Version der Parabel vom Thronanwärter kannte, sie jedoch in die Parabel vom Gastmahl (Mt 22,1-10) eingebaut hat. Nach SCHMID, Matthäus und Lukas

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Thronprätendenten“, das schon die vorlukanische Überlieferung mit der Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld verschmolzen habe. 18 Das Gleichnis vom Thronanwärter spiele auf den Versuch des Archelaus an, sich in Rom die Königswürde zu verschaffen (vgl. Josephus, Bell. 2,80-100; Ant. 17,299320).19 Anders als Jeremias geht heute die Mehrheit der Forschung davon aus, dass Lukas selbst für die Ergänzungen der Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld verantwortlich ist.20 Die lukanische Erweiterung der Q-Parabel dient nach Paul Hoffmann dazu, „die Geschichte des Messias Jesus mit Israel in den Blick zu nehmen: Der von seinen Mitbürgern abgelehnte Thronprätendent wird die Königswürde ‚in einem fernen Land‘ erhalten und dereinst als König wiederkommen. Seine Getreuen erhalten dann Anteil an seiner Herrschaft, seine Feinde aber werden ihre Strafe finden (vgl. Lk 22,2830)“.21 Ulrich Busse hält Lk 19,11-27 sogar für eine kohärente redaktionelle Leistung des Lukas – ein „Text aus einem Guss“, der nicht die Archelaus-Geschichte, sondern die allgemeinen antiken „Patron-Klientel“Strukturen rezipiert.22 Das von Mt 25,14 überlieferte Partizip ἀποδηµῶν ist also zum Q-Text zu rechnen.23

(s. Anm. 1), S. 342f. hätte Matthäus die Texte vom Thronanwärter nicht gestrichen, wenn er sie in Q gelesen hätte. 18 J. J EREMIAS, Die Gleichnisse Jesu, 11. Aufl., Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1998, S. 56. 19 J EREMIAS, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 18), S. 45, 56. 20 So u.a. F LEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 838f.; KLEIN, Lukasevangelium (s. Anm. 3), S. 606; MÄRZ, Rezeption (s. Anm. 3), S. 19 Anm. 62; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 195; WOLTER, Lukasevangelium (s. Anm. 13), S. 617. Gegen C. A. EVANS, Reconstructing Jesus’ Teaching: Problems and Possibilities, in: Ders./B. Chilton (Hgg.), Jesus in Context: Temple, Purity, and Restoration (AGJU 39), Leiden: E. J. Brill 1997, S. 145-176, S. 164. 21 HOFFMANN, Anmerkungen (s. Anm. 6), S. 142. Vgl. auch P. HOFFMANN/S. H. BRANDENBURGER/U. BRAUNER/T. H IEKE (Hgg.), Q 22:28, 30. You Will Judge the Twelve Tribes of Israel (Documenta Q), Leuven: Peeters 1998, S. 293f.; P. HOFFMANN, Herrscher in oder Richter über Israel? Mt 19,28/Lk 22,28-30 in der synoptischen Überlieferung, in: K. Wengst/G. Saß (Hgg.), Ja und Nein – Christliche Theologie im Angesicht Israels (FS Wolfgang Schrage), Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag 1998, S. 253-264, S. 260; MÄRZ, Rezeption (s. Anm. 3), S. 21f. 22 U. BUSSE, Dechiffrierung eines lukanischen Schlüsseltextes (Lk 19,11-27), in: Ders., Jesus im Gespräch: Zur Bildrede in den Evangelien und der Apostelgeschichte (SBAB 43), Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk 2009, S. 51-70, S. 59 und passim. 23 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 434; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 840; HEIL, Lukas (s. Anm. 3), S. 198f.; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 288f. Skepsis zeigt BULTMANN, Geschichte (s. Anm. 13), S. 190: Man könnte Mt 25,14a „für ursprünglich halten, wenn man nicht den Verdacht hätte, sie sei

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In Q 19,13a hat Lukas wohl die Angabe über zehn Sklaven aus Q übernommen.24 Dass dann in der weiteren Parabelerzählung nur noch drei Sklaven zu Wort kommen, hängt an der typischen Knappheit und Gradlinigkeit von Gleichniserzählungen, in denen nur die notwendigen Personen auftreten, und zwar einer nach dem anderen.25 Allerdings hat Lukas das finite Verb in ein Partizip geändert und ein δέ eingefügt. Q 19,13a lautet also in der Critical Edition of Q: ἐκάλεσεν δέκα δούλους ἑαυτοῦ.26 In der Frage, welche Geldsummen den Sklaven in Q anvertraut wurden, ergab sich die einzig nennenswerte Differenz zwischen der ursprünglichen IQP-Rekonstruktion der Parabel und der späteren Critical Edition of Q: Nach Lukas handelt es sich um zehn Minen (eine Mine sind etwa 100 Denare, ein Denar der Tageslohn eines Arbeiters, vgl. Mt 20,2), nach Matthäus um insgesamt acht Talente (ein Talent sind etwa 60 Minen), also um weit größere Geldsummen. Das IQP ließ die Frage unentschieden. Die Herausgeber [der Critical Edition of Q] folgen Lukas. Matthäus hat die Summen erhöht (vgl. auch Mt 18,24), um so die Verantwortung zu verdeutlichen, in der die Sklaven stehen. Diese Summen stehen aber in Spannung zur Erzählung. Denn in 25,21.23 lobt der Hausherr die beiden ersten Sklaven, weil sie mit ‚Wenigem‘ zuverlässig waren.27

Marco Frenschkowski fügt die Beobachtung hinzu, dass Matthäus schon aus dem ἄνθρωπός τις in Q 14,16 einen ἄνθρωπος βασιλεύς (Mt 22,2) machte und so die Bildwelt gegenüber Q „königlicher“ gestaltete; das spreche auch für die Ursprünglichkeit der lukanischen Geldangaben.28 von Mt nach dem Motiv Mk 13,34 gebildet; denn das Motiv des verreisenden Hausherrn paßt im Grunde nicht zu der Verteilung der Kapitalien“. 24 So auch MÄRZ, Rezeption (s. Anm. 3), S. 19 Anm. 62. Gegen BOVON, Lukas (s. Anm. 13), S. 3:287; D ENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 435; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 840f.; J. GNILKA, Jesus von Nazaret: Botschaft und Geschichte (HThK.S 3), Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder 1990, S. 161; LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), S. 3:496, 500; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 289; ZELLER, Kommentar (s. Anm. 3), S. 83. 25 Vgl. BULTMANN, Geschichte (s. Anm. 13), S. 203f.; W. HARNISCH, Die Gleichniserzählungen Jesu: Eine hermeneutische Einführung (UTB 1343), 4. Aufl., Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 2001, S. 25. WOLTER, Lukasevangelium (s. Anm. 13), S. 620f. verweist außerdem auf das „Erzählgesetz der Dreizahl“ (règle de tri). 26 Anders die Rekonstruktion nach Matthäus bei SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 289: ἐκάλεσεν τοὺς ἰδίους δούλους. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 435 und FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 840 rekonstruieren: ἐκάλεσεν τοὺς δούλους αὐτοῦ. 27 HOFFMANN, Anmerkungen (s. Anm. 6), S. 142f. So auch SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 289. 28 FRENSCHKOWSKI, Q-Studien (s. Anm. 3), S. 343. Dass ursprünglich jeder Sklave eine Mine erhielt, vertreten auch R. H. GUNDRY, Matthew: A Commentary on His Handbook for a Mixed Church under Persecution, 2. Aufl., Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 1994, S. 503; LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), S. 3:496f.; MÄRZ, Rezeption (s. Anm. 3), S. 19 Anm. 62; H. MERKLEIN, Die Jesusgeschichte – synoptisch gelesen (SBS 156), Stuttgart:

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Matthäus begründet die differenzierte Verteilung der Talente in 25,15a mit: ἑκάστῳ κατὰ τὴν ἰδίαν δύναµιν (25,15b).29 Diese unterschiedliche Befähigung der einzelnen Sklaven ist vielleicht ein Echo auf Mk 13,34: ἑκάστῳ τὸ ἔργον αὐτοῦ.30 Den Schluss von Q 19,13 rekonstruiert die Critical Edition of Q mit der Wahrscheinlichkeit {C} („schwache Wahrscheinlichkeit“, die einen nicht unbedeutenden Zweifel signalisiert) nach Lukas: καὶ εἶπεν αὐτος31 πραγµατεύσασθε ἐν ᾧ ἔρχοµαι.32 Während Q wohl diesen klaren Auftrag zum Wirtschaften enthielt, deutet Matthäus den Zweck der Geldübergabe durch seinen Hinweis auf die unterschiedliche Befähigung der Sklaven an: Deren jeweilige δύναµις bezieht sich nicht auf das Bewahren, sondern auf das Vermehren des Geldes. Die übergebenen Minen allein tragen keinen „so offensichtlichen Anspruch in sich, daß sich jeder Kommentar dazu erübrigt“.33 Ohne Hinweis auf den Zweck der Geldübergabe wäre das anvertraute Geld am ehesten als depositum34 zu verstehen. Das ließe jedoch das spätere Lob für Katholisches Bibelwerk 1994, S. 200; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 195f. BOVON, Lukas (s. Anm. 13), S. 3:287f.; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 840f.; GNILKA, Matthäusevangelium (s. Anm. 3), S. 2:357f.; DERS., Jesus (s. Anm. 24), S. 161; KÄHLER , Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 165-168 und LAMBRECHT, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 113 halten zwar die lukanische Geldeinheit für ursprünglich, aber nicht die gleiche Verteilung; Matthäus habe mit der differenzierten Vergabe des Geldes den ursprünglichen Wortlaut bewahrt (vgl. dazu auch die nächste Anm.). DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 435-437 hält zwar die lukanische Geldeinheit für ursprünglich, konjiziert aber für Q 19,13 nur: ἀργύριον [αὐτοῦ]. 29 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 438; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 841f. Κατὰ τὴν ἰδίαν δύναµιν wird dagegen von SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 289 zu Q gerechnet. Daher habe auch die differenzierte Vergabe des Geldes bei Matthäus ihre Vorlage in Q. 30 Lukas kennt diese unterschiedlichen Befähigungen auch (z.B. Lk 12,47f.); hätte er sie in Q 19 gelesen, hätte er sie wahrscheinlich nicht geändert. 31 Für das lukanische πρὸς αὐτούς wurde ein einfacher Dativ konjiziert. 32 Vgl. EBNER, Widerstand (s. Anm. 3), S. 419 mit Anm. 64; GUNDRY, Matthew (s. Anm. 28), S. 503; gegen BOVON, Lukas (s. Anm. 13), S. 3:289; DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 439; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 842; LAMBRECHT, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 114; LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), S. 3:496; S CHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 289f.; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 196. 33 WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 203. 34 Vgl. M. KASER, Das römische Privatrecht: Erster Abschnitt: Das altrömische, das vorklassische und klassische Recht (HAW 10: Rechtsgeschichte des Altertums 3/3/1), 2. Aufl., München: C. H. Beck 1971, S. 534-536; F.-S. MEISSEL, Depositum, in: H. Cancik/H. Schneider (Hgg.), Der Neue Pauly: Enzyklopädie der Antike, 16 Bde., Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler 1996–2003, S. 3:480f.; R. ZIMMERMANN, The Law of Obligations: Roman Foundations of the Civilian Tradition, Cape Town: Juta & Co 1990, S. 205-220. Erlemann meint, Matthäus beschreibe die Übergabe eines depositum; K. E RLEMANN, Das Bild Gottes in den synoptischen Gleichnissen (BWANT 126), Stuttgart:

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die Sklaven, die mit dem Geld wirtschafteten, und die Kritik an dem Sklaven, der das Geld verwahrte, völlig unverständlich werden. Die Erzähllogik erfordert eine Andeutung darüber, dass das Geld als peculium übergeben wurde, das vermehrt werden sollte (vgl. dazu unten Abschnitt 3.1). Mt 25,15c-18 ist matthäische Redaktion;35 Matthäus füllt den gap der Abwesenheit des Menschen in Q, indem er das wirtschaftliche Handeln der drei Sklaven in der „langen Zeit“ (Mt 25,19) schildert.36 In Mt 25,14f. wird das Geld zwar ohne expliziten Auftrag an die Sklaven gegeben; die Reaktion der ersten beiden Sklaven in Mt 25,15fin-17 macht jedoch klar, was sie „sogleich“ (Mt 25,15fin: εὐθέως) als ihren Auftrag empfanden: mit dem Geld Gewinn zu erwirtschaften (Mt 25,16: ἠργάσατο ἐν αὐτοῖς). 2.3 Q 19,15 (Mt 25,19 und Lk 19,15) – Rückkehr des Herrn zur Abrechnung Q 19,15 ist in der Critical Edition of Q nach Matthäus rekonstruiert;37 allein die Entscheidung zwischen dem matthäischen δέ oder dem lukanischen καί wurde offengelassen. Das matthäische µετὰ πολὺν χρόνον wurde mit der Wahrscheinlichkeit {C} für Q reklamiert.38 Lukas hat die Formulierung wohl gestrichen, da sie nicht in den Thronanwärter-Kontext von Lk 19,15a passte. Auch am Ende von Q 19,15 hat Matthäus mit καὶ συναίρει λόγον µετ᾿ αὐτῶν den Q-Wortlaut erhalten39 (anders Lukas: ἵνα γνοῖ τί διεπραγµα-

Kohlhammer 1988, S. 199. – Für Unterstützung in den rechtshistorischen Fragen danke ich sehr herzlich meinem Grazer Kollegen Prof. Dr. Martin Pennitz. 35 So auch D ENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 439f.; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 290. Er rechnet allerdings καὶ ἀπεδήµησεν (Mt 25,15c) zu Q; Lukas habe die Bemerkung wegen seines redaktionellen Verses 19,14 gestrichen. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 842f. sieht in Mt 25,15c-18 weitgehend Q-Überlieferung. 36 Vgl. LABAHN, Der Gekommene (s. Anm. 3), S. 391 Anm. 513. 37 So auch DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 441-443; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 290. 38 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 440f.; GNILKA, Matthäusevangelium (s. Anm. 3), S. 2:358. Gegen BULTMANN, Geschichte (s. Anm. 13), S. 190 (es sei eine „auf die Parusie gehende, allegorische Eintragung bei Mt“ zu vermuten); FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 844; HOFFMANN, Studien (s. Anm. 3), S. 48; SCRIBA, Echtheitskriterien (s. Anm. 1), S. 180 mit Anm. 25; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 197 Anm. 135. 39 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 443. Gegen FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 844, der aber auch Lk 19,15 für redaktionell hält. Er konjiziert für Q 19,15: καὶ ἦλθεν ὁ κύριος τῶν δούλων ἐκείνων καὶ ἐκάλεσεν αὐτούς.

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τεύσαντο).40 Die Formulierung συναίρειν λόγον („Abrechnung halten“) ist ein Ausdruck der Geschäftssprache, der in den zeitgenössischen Papyri verbreitet ist.41 Im NT kommt er nur noch bei Mt 18,23f. vor. 2.4 Q 19,16f. (Mt 25,20f. und Lk 19,16f.) – Der erste Sklave: Leistung und entsprechende Anerkennung Nach Matthäus hat der erste Sklave sein anvertrautes Geld verdoppelt, nach Lukas verzehnfacht. In Analogie zu Q 19,13 rekonstruiert die Critical Edition of Q auch hier nach Lukas42 außer der lukanischen Einleitung παρεγένετο δέ.43 Da auch das matthäische Partizip von προσέρχοµαι redaktionell ist, wurde für Q καὶ 〚λθ〛 konjiziert.44 Für Q 19,17 wurde die lukanische Redeeinleitung (καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῶ) als aus Q stammend beurteilt.45 Dann folgt in Q: εὖ, ἀγαθὲ δοῦλε.46 Matthäus ergänzt noch καὶ πιστέ, während Lukas das εὖ zu εὖγε ändert. Ferner ist das matthäische ἐπὶ ὀλίγα ἦς πιστός für Q zu reklamieren,47 während Lukas redaktionell formuliert: ὅτι ἐν ἐλαχίστῳ πιστὸς ἐγένου. Auch im Folgenden

40

Γνοῖ ist eine hellenistische Nebenform zum Aorist Konjunktiv γνῷ (vgl. auch Mk 5,43; 9,30); vgl. F. BLASS/A. DEBRUNNER/F. REHKOPF, Grammatik des neutestamentlichen Griechisch, 18. Aufl., Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 2001, § 956 . 41 Vgl. J. H. MOULTON/G. M ILLIGAN, The Vocabulary of the Greek Testament: Illustrated from the Papyri and Other Non-Literary Sources, London: Hodder and Stoughton 1930, S. 601. 42 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 444-446. Gegen BOVON, Lukas (s. Anm. 13), S. 3:288, der in den von Lukas genannten Wertsteigerungen den „Hang zur Übertreibung“ sieht. Ferner wurde in der Critical Edition of Q nicht κερδαίνω (Mt 25,20), sondern προσεργάζοµαι (Lk 19,16) für Q rekonstruiert; gegen SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 290. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 845f. folgt in seiner Rekonstruktion von Q 19,16 stärker Mt 25,20. 43 Die lukanische Einleitung wird auch von S CHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 290 für redaktionell gehalten. 44 So auch DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 443f. 45 Gegen das matthäische ἔφη αὐτῷ ὁ κύριος αὐτοῦ. So auch DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 446; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 847; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 290f. Letzterer rechnet allerdings gegen die Critical Edition of Q das bei Matthäus genannte Subjekt ὁ κύριος (so auch Mt 25,23.26) zu Q (SCHULZ, a.a.O., S. 291). DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 446 reklamiert ὁ κύριος αὐτοῦ für Q. 46 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 447; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 847; WEDER , Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 198; ZELLER, Kommentar (s. Anm. 3), S. 84. SCHULZ Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 291 rekonstruiert dagegen mit Matthäus: εὖ, δοῦλε ἀγαθέ καὶ πιστέ. 47 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 447f.; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 847; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 291; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 198; ZELLER, Kommentar (s. Anm. 3), S. 84.

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hat Matthäus den Q-Wortlaut bewahrt: ἐπὶ πολλῶν σε καταστήσω.48 Lukas lässt dagegen einen König sprechen: ἴσθι ἐξουσίαν ἔχων ἐπάνω δέκα πόλεων. Der abschließende matthäische Imperativ εἴσελθε εἰς τὴν χαρὰν τοῦ κυρίου σου (Mt 25,21; vgl. die Wiederholung in 25,23) ist wahrscheinlich auf die Allegorisierung durch Matthäus zurückzuführen,49 der im Übrigen gerne „Eingangsworte“ mit εἰσέρχοµαι εἰς formuliert.50 2.5. Q 19,18f. (Mt 25,22f. und Lk 19,18f.) – Der zweite Sklave: Leistung und entsprechende Anerkennung Nach Matthäus hat auch der zweite Sklave sein anvertrautes Geld verdoppelt, während er es nach Lukas verfünffacht hat. Wie in der vorigen Szene ist die Rede des Sklaven nach Lukas zu rekonstruieren;51 allerdings hat Lukas gegenüber Q 19,18 die κύριε-Anrede nachgestellt. Analog zu Q 19,17 wird bei der Antwort des Herrn Q 19,19 in der Critical Edition of Q eine kurze Redeeinleitung rekonstruiert: εἶπεν 〚αὐτ〛ῷ.52 Die eigentliche Antwort ist identisch mit der in Q 19,17.53 Da Lukas in 19,19 nur einen Text aus seiner Thronanwärtergeschichte bietet, 48

So auch D ENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 447f.; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 847f.; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 291; W EDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 198; ZELLER, Kommentar (s. Anm. 3), S. 84. Vgl. Q 12,44: ἐπὶ πᾶσιν τοῖς ὑπάρχουσιν αὐτοῦ καταστήσει αὐτόν. LABAHN, Der Gekommene (s. Anm. 3), S. 392 sieht hier zu Recht eine bewusste Verbindung der beiden Parabeln: „Das modellhafte Handeln findet Aussicht auf Belohnung, die in einer Statussteigerung liegt. Wird in Q 22,28 ein Thronen der Jesusnachfolger zum Gericht in Aussicht gestellt, so spricht einiges dafür, dass die Sinnlinie gerade in diesem Punkt zu ihrem Ziel findet.“ 49 Vgl. BOVON, Lukas (s. Anm. 13), S. 3:289; BULTMANN, Geschichte (s. Anm. 13), S. 190; DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 448; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 848; GNILKA, Matthäusevangelium (s. Anm. 3), S. 2:358; K LOPPENBORG, Jesus (s. Anm. 3), S. 297; LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), S. 3:497; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 291. 50 Vgl. E. P. S ANDERS, Jesus and Judaism, Philadelphia, Pa.: Fortress Press 1985, S. 380 Anm. 89. 51 Wie in Mt 25,20 ist auch in Mt 25,22 κερδαίνω redaktionell; aus Q stammt das bei Lukas verwendete ποιέω. Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 448f. Anders F LEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 848, der sich wie bei Q 19,16 eher an Matthäus orientiert. 52 Die matthäische Einleitung in Mt 25,23 ist identisch mit der in Mt 25,21, die schon für redaktionell erkannt wurde. Lukas ergänzt in 19,19 δὲ καί und ersetzt αὐτῷ mit τούτῳ. So auch SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 291. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 848 rekonstruiert: καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ. Die Rekonstruktion von D ENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 449 lautet: καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ ὁ κύριος αὐτοῦ. 53 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 449; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 848f.; ZELLER, Kommentar (s. Anm. 3), S. 84.

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kann der erste Teil der Antwort nur mit der Wahrscheinlichkeit {C} für Q rekonstruiert werden. Zum matthäischen εἴσελθε εἰς τὴν χαρὰν τοῦ κυρίου σου (Mt 25,23) vgl. oben 2.4 zu Mt 25,21. 2.6 Q 19,20-24 (Mt 25,24-28 und Lk 19,20-25) – Der dritte Sklave: keine Leistung und entsprechende Zurechtweisung statt Anerkennung Beim dritten Sklaven erfolgt eine Antiklimax in der Erzählung, 54 da er sein anvertrautes Geld nicht vermehrt hat und sich dafür ausführlich rechtfertigt (Q 19,20f.); ebenso ausführlich fällt die Zurechtweisung durch den Herrn aus (Q 19,22-24). Wie schon bei den Einleitungen in Q 19,16 und 19,18 ist auch die Einleitung zu Q 19,20 bei Lukas besser bewahrt,55 der allerdings aus stilistischen Gründen das Verb ἦλθεν dem Subjekt nachstellt. Nach dem Beginn der Rede des dritten Sklaven mit der κύριε-Anrede ergänzt Lukas redaktionell: ἰδοῦ ἡ µνᾶ σου ἣν εἶχον ἀποκειµένην ἐν σουδαρίῳ.56 Die entsprechende matthäische Formulierung in 25,25 (Q 19,21) nimmt dagegen wahrscheinlich den Q-Wortlaut auf: ἔκρυψα τὸ τάλαντόν σου ἐν τῇ γῇ, wobei statt τὸ τάλαντον für Q τὴν µνᾶν konjiziert werden muss.57 Q 19,21a ist nach Matthäus zu rekonstruieren, wobei ἔγνων in der Critical Edition of Q nur die Wahrscheinlichkeit {C} erhielt.58 Lukas führt hier schon das Furchtmotiv ein (ἐφοβούµην γάρ σε),59 das seinen Platz in Q 54

Vgl. HARNISCH, Gleichniserzählungen (s. Anm. 25), S. 37f. Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 449 (statt ἕτερος rekonstruiert Denaux allerdings τρίτος). Gegen FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 850. 56 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 453f.; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 851; WEDER , Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 199. Gegen G NILKA, Matthäusevangelium (s. Anm. 3), S. 2:358. Σουδάριον (sudarium) ist ein lateinisches Lehnwort, das im NT sonst nur noch Joh 11,44; 20,7 und Apg 19,12 vorkommt. Nach BOVON, Lukas (s. Anm. 13), S. 3:288 hat schon die ursprüngliche Parabel den Begriff hier verwendet. 57 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 453; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 852. Nach rabbinischem Recht befreite das Vergraben eines Depositums von jeglicher Haftpflicht, während das Verbergen in einem Tuch als ungenügende Vorsorge galt; vgl. R. L. ROHRBAUGH, A Peasant Reading of the Parable of the Talents/Pounds: A Text of Terror?, BTB 23 (1993) S. 32-39, S. 36; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 291f. Lukas möchte also den dritten Sklaven betont als fahrlässig charakterisieren. 58 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 451f.; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 851. Auch SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 292 reklamiert das matthäische ἔγνων für Q. 59 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 451f. Gegen ZELLER, Kommentar (s. Anm. 3), S. 84, der das Furchtmotiv an seinem lukanischen Ort für Q rekonstruiert. 55

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erst am Ende von Q 19,21 hatte, wie Mt 25,25 zeigt. Ferner nennt der dritte Sklave in Q 19,21 den Herrn σκληρός (= Mt 25,24), während Lukas in αὐστηρός ändert60 und auch die Satzstruktur verbessert.61 Der synonyme Parallelismus Q 19,21b.c wurde in Mt 25,24fin bewahrt. Lukas stellt das ursprünglich erste Paar „θερίζω – σπείρω“ an die zweite Stelle und fügt an die erste Stelle das neue Paar „αἴρω – τίθηµι“ ein: Mt 25,24 (= Q) Du erntest, wo du nicht gesät hast, und sammelst ein von dort, wo du nicht ausgestreut hast.

Lk 19,21 Du nimmst, was du nicht hingelegt hast, und du erntest, was du nicht gesät hast.

Während in Q die Bilder im landwirtschaftlichen Bereich bleiben,62 setzt Lukas Verben an die erste Stelle, die gut auch als Banken-Termini verständlich sind: αἴρω „von der Bank abheben“ – τίθηµι „an der Bank einzahlen“.63 Außerdem ändert Lukas die Partizipien aus Q in finite Verben und ersetzt die örtlichen Bezüge (ὅπου/ὅθεν) durch sachliche (ὅ). Das Ende von Q 19,21 wird mit Mt 25,25 rekonstruiert; Lukas hat die Aussagen des dritten Sklaven über dessen Furcht und die Aufbewahrung des anvertrauten Geldes nach vorne gezogen (Lk 19,20f.).64 Die Einleitung der Rede des Herrn in Q 19,22 ist bei Lukas bewahrt.65 Dann jedoch ergänzt Lukas redaktionell: ἐκ τοῦ στόµατός σου κρίνω σε.66 60

Lukas wählt mit αὐστηρός das im Blick auf Q 19,22-26 besser passende Adjektiv; vgl. BUSSE, Dechiffrierung (s. Anm. 22), S. 65f.; DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 452; F LEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 851; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 291. 61 Mt (= Q): ὅτι σκληρὸς εἶ ἄνθρωπος/Lk ὅτι ἄνθρωπος αὐστηρὸς εἶ. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 460 folgt in seiner Q-Rekonstruktion der matthäischen Syntax. Nach F LEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 851 hat allerdings Lukas die Syntax aus Q bewahrt. 62 Vgl. U. BUSSE, διασκορπίζω, in: EWNT 1 (1980), S. 747f., 748: In dem Parallelismus „dominiert der agrarische Gegensatz zwischen Säen und Ernten“. Gegen G NILKA, Matthäusevangelium (s. Anm. 3), S. 2:358; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 199. 63 Vgl. W. BAUER (K. Aland/B. Aland [Hgg.]), Griechisch-deutsches Wörterbuch zu den Schriften des Neuen Testaments und der frühchristlichen Literatur, 6. Aufl., Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 1988, S. 46; J EREMIAS, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 18), S. 57 Anm. 1. D ENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 452f.; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 291 und ZELLER, Kommentar (s. Anm. 3), S. 84 halten allerdings αἴρεις ὃ οὐκ ἔθηκας für den Q-Text, jedoch an der zweiten Stelle nach „der erntet, wo er nicht gesät“. 64 So auch D ENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 452f.; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 850; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 291f. 65 Gegen F LEDDERMANN , Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 852; S CHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 292. D ENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 454 rekonstruiert: (καὶ) λέγει αὐτῷ ὁ κύριος αὐτοῦ.

Was erzählt die Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld?

353

Matthäus ergänzt ein zweites, auf den Sklaven bezogenes Adjektiv: ὀκνερός.67 Nach ᾔδεις ὅτι schiebt Lukas redaktionell ein: ἐγὼ ἄνθρωπος αὐστηρός εἰµι (vgl. oben Lk 19,21).68 Der Schluss von Q 19,22 nimmt den Vorwurf aus Q 19,21 auf – hier wie dort hat Matthäus den Q-Wortlaut erhalten.69 Q 19,23a wird in der Critical Edition of Q nach Mt 25,27a rekonstruiert;70 allein das Possessivpronomen µου steht wie bei Lukas vor seinem Bezugswort und nicht wie bei Matthäus danach. Auch Q 19,23b wurde offenbar von Matthäus unverändert übernommen.71 Mit dem redaktionell eingefügten Adressatenwechsel in Lk 19,24a (καὶ τοῖς παρεστῶσιν εἶπεν) erklärt Lukas, an wen sich die folgende Aufforderung richtet.72 Auch der Rest von Q 19,24 ist nach Matthäus zu 66

Vgl. BUSSE, Dechiffrierung (s. Anm. 22), S. 65 mit Anm. 55; DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 455; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 852; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 292; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 199. 67 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 455; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 852; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 199 Anm. 149; ZELLER, Kommentar (s. Anm. 3), S. 84. Zu Q gerechnet wird das Adjektiv von SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 292. Ὀκνερός (im NT sonst noch Röm 12,11; Phil 3,1) bedeutet nicht „faul“, sondern „zögerlich, ängstlich“; vgl. LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), S. 3:501 mit Anm. 52. Nach Nielsen wird mit dem Adjektiv „mangelnde Aktivität aufgrund von Furcht“ beschrieben. H. K. NIELSEN, Ist der „faule“ Knecht faul? Zur Übersetzung von ὀκνηρός in Mt 25,26, in: C. Niemand (Hg.), Forschungen zum Neuen Testament und seiner Umwelt: FS Albert Fuchs (Linzer philosophisch-theologische Beiträge 7), Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang 2002, S. 157-173, S. 169. 68 Vgl. SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 292; ZELLER, Kommentar (s. Anm. 3), S. 84. Gegen F LEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 852. 69 Lukas wiederholt hier seinerseits die entsprechenden Formulierungen aus 19,21. Für die lukanischen Partizipien und gegen die matthäischen finiten Verben spricht sich F LEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 852 aus. 70 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 455f. (allerdings ohne das matthäische οὖν, mit δοῦναι statt βαλεῖν und mit dem lukanischen Singular τὸ ἀργύριον); FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 853 (allerdings ohne das matthäische οὖν und mit dem lukanischen Singular τὸ ἀργύριον); SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 292; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 199 Anm. 151. Gegen ZELLER , Kommentar (s. Anm. 3), S. 84. Lukas formuliert in 19,23a – 19,22 weiterführend – eine rhetorische Frage (καὶ διὰ τί), ändert das Verb von βάλλω zu δίδωµι, verwendet den Singular von ἀργύριον (so schon redaktionell in Lk 19,15) und ändert τοῖς τραπεζίταις zu ἐπὶ τράπεζαν. 71 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 456f.; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 853 (allerdings mit dem lukanischen αὐτό statt dem matthäischen τὸ ἐµόν); SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 292. Lukas zieht καὶ … ἐγώ zu κἀγώ zusammen, rückt σὺν τόκῳ nach vorne und ersetzt ἐκοµισάµην ἂν τὸ ἐµόν durch ἂν αὐτὸ ἔπραξα. 72 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 457; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 853; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 292; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 199 Anm. 152.

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rekonstruieren, allerdings mit Ausnahme der Geldeinheit, die Lukas aus Q bewahrt hat.73 Hier ergibt sich allerdings die Frage, warum Q 19,24 von „dem, der zehn Minen hat“, spricht; nach Q 19,16 müsste der erste Sklave doch nun elf Minen haben? Musste er die eine, die dem Herrn gehörte, zurückgeben? Bei Matthäus können die ersten beiden Sklaven das anvertraute Geld zusammen mit dem erwirtschafteten behalten. Lk 19,25 ist lukanische Redaktion, um an Lk 19,24a anzuschließen und Q 19,26 vorzubereiten.74 Der Vers fehlt in einigen westlichen Textzeugen (z.B. D, W und 565), was am ehesten mit der Assimilation an den Matthäustext oder mit stilistischen Gründen zu erklären ist.75 2.7 Q 19,26 (Mt 25,29 und Lk 19,26) – sekundärer Schluss in Q: Einordnung in die Erfahrung über das unterschiedliche Geschick von Habenden und Nicht-Habenden Dieses Wanderlogion wird bei Matthäus wie bei Lukas im Mund des κύριος am gleichen Ort in der Parabel überliefert und hat enge verbale Parallelen zum unmittelbar vorhergehenden Vers Q 19,24, mit dem es auch einen Chiasmus bildet.76 Q 19,26 ist daher Teil des Q-Textes gewesen, den die beiden Evangelisten kannten.77 Das Wort, das eine verbreitete Welterfahrung in weisheitlicher Form ausdrückt – die Reichen werden reicher, die Armen ärmer –,78 ist auch in Mk 4,25 überliefert: ὃς γὰρ ἔχει, δοθήσεται αὐτῷ· καὶ ὃς οὐκ ἔχει, καὶ ὃ ἔχει ἀρθήσεται ἀπ᾽ αὐτοῦ.

73 Vgl. SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 292. Lukas streicht in Lk 19,24b οὖν und gestaltet Lk 19,24c eleganter, indem er ἔχοντι an das Satzende rückt und somit das Akkusativobjekt einrahmt. Gegen DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 457 und FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 853, die hier Lukas folgen. 74 Vgl. DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 457; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 853; LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), S. 3:496; SCHULZ , Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 292; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 199. 75 Critical Edition of Q (s. Anm. 8), S. CVI; B. M. METZGER , A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament: A Companion Volume to the UBS’ Greek New Testament (Fourth Revised Edition), 2. Aufl., Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgsellschaft 1994, S. 144. 76 καὶ δότε τῷ ἔχοντι … Q 19,24: ἄρατε … ἀπ᾿ αὐτοῦ … Q 19,26: τῷ … ἔχοντι … δοθήσεται, … ἀρθήσεται ἀπ᾿ αὐτοῦ. 77 Vgl. BULTMANN, Geschichte (s. Anm. 13), S. 190; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 292; ZELLER, Kommentar (s. Anm. 3), S. 84. 78 Vgl. im weiteren Sinn 2 Sam 12,1-4; Spr 10,15; 14,20; 22,7; Sir 13,23; Jak 2,6.

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Eine weitere Version des Spruchs bietet EvThom 41:79 1

Jesus spricht: „Wer (etwas) in seiner Hand hat – ihm wird gegeben werden. nichts hat – auch das Wenige, was er hat, wird von ihm genommen werden.“

2

Und wer

Diese Fassung des Spruchs hat größere Nähe zu Mk 4,25 als zu Q 19,2680 und trägt für die Rekonstruktion von Q 19,26 nichts aus. Matthäus ergänzt in Mt 25,29 (wie in Mt 13,12, der Parallele zu Mk 4,25) καὶ περισσευθήσεται, aber sonst ist der Vers nach Matthäus zu rekonstruieren.81 In Q schloss Q 19,26 die Parabel als warnendes Deutewort ab,82 das resümierend das Urteil des κύριος bestätigt. Vielleicht ist das Logion in Q erst sekundär hinzugekommen, denn es trifft den Sinn des Vorhergehenden nicht ganz; in der Parabel geht es ja nicht um das Haben und Nicht-Haben, sondern um das aktive und passive Verhalten.83

79

Übersetzung: J. SCHRÖTER/H.-G. BETHGE, Das Evangelium nach Thomas (NHC II,2), in: H.-M. Schenke/H.-G. Bethge/U. U. Kaiser (Hgg.), Nag Hammadi Deutsch: Studienausgabe (de Gruyter Texte): Eingeleitet und übersetzt von Mitgliedern des Berliner Arbeitskreises für Koptisch-Gnostische Schriften, 2. Aufl., Berlin: Walter de Gruyter 2010, S. 124-139, S. 131. 80 Vgl. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 856; S. J. P ATTERSON, The Gospel of Thomas and Jesus: Thomas Christianity, Social Radicalism, and the Quest of the Historical Jesus (Foundations & Facets: Reference Series), Sonoma, Calif.: Polebridge Press 1993, S. 37; U.-K. PLISCH, Das Thomasevangelium: Originaltext mit Kommentar, Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft 2007, S. 121. 81 Vgl. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 853f.; LÜHRMANN, Redaktion (s. Anm. 3), S. 107; SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 292; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 200 Anm. 154. Lukas ergänzt das einleitende λέγω ὑµῖν ὅτι (vgl. BULTMANN, Geschichte [s. Anm. 13], S. 353), streicht γάρ und setzt πάντι vor τῷ ἔχοντι. Im zweiten Teil des Logions streicht er ἀπ᾿ αὐτοῦ am Ende und fügt daher ἀπό am Beginn ein. Schließlich ergänzt er noch den Artikel τοῦ vor µὴ ἔχοντος. H ARNACK, Sprüche (s. Anm. 1), S. 102 streicht zwar das matthäische γάρ (so auch SCHULZ, Q [s. Anm. 3], S. 292), rekonstruiert aber sonst nach Matthäus – einschließlich καὶ περισσευθήσεται. D ENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 458f. folgt in seiner Rekonstruktion von Q 19,26 Lukas; er streicht allerdings die lukanische Einleitung und ergänzt das matthäische γάρ. 82 Nach HOFFMANN, Studien (s. Anm. 3), S. 49 ist Q 19,26 der „Schlüssel“ für das Verständnis der Parabel in Q. 83 Vgl. BULTMANN, Geschichte (s. Anm. 13), S. 190; LAMBRECHT, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 113; LÜDEMANN, Jesus (s. Anm. 3), S. 482; LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), S. 3:497; S CHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 297; D. O. VIA, Die Gleichnisse Jesu: Ihre literarische und existentielle Dimension (BEvTh 57), München: Chr. Kaiser Verlag 1970, S. 112f. Gegen W EDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 200.

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2.8 Q 19,〚27〛 (Mt 25,30 und Lk 19,27) – matthäische und lukanische Gerichtsworte Anders als bei Matthäus und Lukas wurde die Parabel in Q nicht durch ein Gerichtswort abgeschlossen. Mt 25,30 und Lk 19,27 sind in der Critical Edition of Q mit der Wahrscheinlichkeit {C} als jeweilige matthäische84 und lukanische85 Redaktionen bewertet worden.86 Matthäus bildet 25,30, um zur Weltgerichtsrede in 25,31-46 überzuleiten. Die Wendung βάλλειν εἰς τὸ σκότος τὸ ἐξώτερον findet sich im NT nur bei Matthäus (8,12 [= Q, aber diff. Lk 13,28]87; 22,13) und entstammt hier dessen Redaktion.88 Die Formulierung ἐκεῖ ἔσται ὁ κλαυθµὸς καὶ ὁ βρυγµὸς τῶν ὀδόντων verwendet Matthäus wie hier auch in Mt 8,12 (= Q 13,28c); 13,42.50; 22,13; 24,51 (diff. Q 12,46). Er hat sie ebenfalls aus Q 13,28b (Mt 8,12) entnommen und an den restlichen Stellen redaktionell wiederverwendet.89 Im Folgenden wird also von der Rekonstruktion ausgegangen, wie sie in der Critical Edition of Q vorgeschlagen wurde: Mt 25,14-30

Q 19,12f.15-24.26 (The Critical Edition of Q)

Lk 19,11-27 11

Ἀκουόντων δὲ αὐτῶν ταῦτα προσθεὶς εἶπεν παραβολὴν διὰ τὸ ἐγγὺς εἶναι Ἰερουσαλὴµ αὐτὸν καὶ δοκεῖν αὐτοὺς ὅτι παραχρῆµα µέλλει ἡ βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ

84

Nach BULTMANN, Geschichte (s. Anm. 13), S. 190 wird der κύριος der Parabel in Mt 25,30 zum Weltrichter Christus; ebenso GNILKA, Matthäusevangelium (s. Anm. 3), S. 2:358. Auch LÜDEMANN, Jesus (s. Anm. 3), S. 300 beurteilt den Vers als den Kommentar des Matthäus. 85 Vgl. LÜDEMANN, Jesus (s. Anm. 3), S. 482f. 86 So auch DENAUX, Parable (s. Anm. 3), S. 459; FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 854; BULTMANN, Geschichte (s. Anm. 13), S. 190; S CHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 292f.; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 201. 87 Q 13,28b lautet in der Critical Edition of Q: 〚ὑµς〛 δὲ ἐκβλ〚ηθήσ εἰς τὸ σκότος τὸ〛 ἐξώ〚τερον〛. 88 Vgl. MEIER, A Marginal Jew II (s. Anm. 14), S. 313; G. I. MIGBISIEGBE, Entering into the Joy of the Master or Being Cast Out into the Outer Darkness: Re-Imagining the Eschatological Judgement in Matthew 25,30, in: D. Senior (Hg.), The Gospel of Matthew at the Crossroads of Early Christianity (BEThL 243), Leuven: Peeters 2011, S. 607-619, S. 611f. und passim. 89 Vgl. BULTMANN, Geschichte (s. Anm. 13), S. 352; LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), 1:79; M IGBISIEGBE, Entering (s. Anm. 88), S. 611f. und passim.

Was erzählt die Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld? Mt 25,14-30

Q 19,12f.15-24.26 (The Critical Edition of Q)

14

Ὥσπερ γὰρ ἄνθρωπος ἀποδηµῶν

12

ἐκάλεσεν τοὺς ἰδίους δούλους καὶ παρέδωκεν αὐτοῖς τὰ ὑπάρχοντα αὐτοῦ, 15 καὶ ᾧ µὲν ἔδωκεν πέντε τάλαντα, ᾧ δὲ δύο, ᾧ δὲ ἕν, ἑκάστῳ κατὰ τὴν ἰδίαν δύναµιν,

13

καὶ ἀπεδήµησεν. εὐθέως 16 πορευθεὶς ὁ τὰ πέντε τάλαντα λαβὼν ἠργάσατο ἐν αὐτοῖς καὶ ἐκέρδησεν ἄλλα πέντε· 17 ὡσαύτως ὁ τὰ δύο ἐκέρδησεν ἄλλα δύο. 18 ὁ δὲ τὸ ἓν λαβὼν ἀπελθὼν ὤρυξεν γῆν καὶ ἔκρυψεν τὸ ἀργύριον τοῦ κυρίου αὐτοῦ.

Mt 25,15c-18

19

357

Lk 19,11-27

ἐκάλεσεν δέκα δούλους ἑαυτοῦ καὶ ἔδωκεν αὐτοῖς δέκα µνᾶς

ἀναφαίνεσθαι. 12 εἶπεν οὖν· ἄνθρωπός τις εὐγενὴς ἐπορεύθη εἰς χώραν µακρὰν λαβεῖν ἑαυτῷ βασιλείαν καὶ ὑποστρέψαι. 13 καλέσας δὲ δέκα δούλους ἑαυτοῦ ἔδωκεν αὐτοῖς δέκα µνᾶς

〚καὶ εἶπεν αὐτος· πραγµατεύσασθε ἐν ᾧ ἔρχοµαι〛.

καὶ εἶπεν πρὸς αὐτούς· πραγµατεύσασθε ἐν ᾧ ἔρχοµαι.

14

14

.. ἄνθρωπός τις ἀποδηµῶν

15

µετὰ δὲ πολὺν χρόνον ἔρχεται ὁ κύριος

.. 〚µετὰ〛 .. 〚πολὺν χρόνον〛 ἔρχεται ὁ κύριος

τῶν δούλων ἐκείνων

τῶν δούλων ἐκείνων

καὶ συναίρει λόγον µετ᾽ αὐτῶν. 20 καὶ προσελθὼν ὁ τὰ πέντε τάλαντα λαβὼν

καὶ συναίρει λόγον µετ᾿ αὐτῶν. 16 καὶ 〚λθ〛 ὁ πρῶτος

οἱ δὲ πολῖται αὐτοῦ ἐµίσουν αὐτὸν καὶ ἀπέστειλαν πρεσβείαν ὀπίσω αὐτοῦ λέγοντες· οὐ θέλοµεν τοῦτον βασιλεῦσαι ἐφ᾽ ἡµᾶς. 15 καὶ ἐγένετο ἐν τῷ ἐπανελθεῖν αὐτὸν λαβόντα τὴν βασιλείαν καὶ εἶπεν φωνηθῆναι αὐτῷ τοὺς δούλους τούτους οἷς δεδώκει τὸ ἀργύριον, ἵνα γνοῖ τί διεπραγµατεύσαντο. 16 παρεγένετο δὲ ὁ πρῶτος

358 Mt 25,14-30 προσήνεγκεν ἄλλα πέντε τάλαντα λέγων· κύριε, πέντε τάλαντά µοι παρέδωκας· ἴδε ἄλλα πέντε τάλαντα ἐκέρδησα. 21 ἔφη αὐτῷ ὁ κύριος αὐτοῦ· εὖ, δοῦλε ἀγαθὲ καὶ πιστέ, ἐπὶ ὀλίγα ἦς πιστός, ἐπὶ πολλῶν σε καταστήσω· εἴσελθε εἰς τὴν χαρὰν τοῦ κυρίου σου. 22 προσελθὼν [δὲ] καὶ ὁ τὰ δύο τάλαντα εἶπεν· κύριε, δύο τάλαντά µοι παρέδωκας· ἴδε ἄλλα δύο τάλαντα ἐκέρδησα. 23 ἔφη αὐτῷ ὁ κύριος αὐτοῦ· εὖ, δοῦλε ἀγαθὲ καὶ πιστέ, ἐπὶ ὀλίγα ἦς πιστός, ἐπὶ πολλῶν σε καταστήσω· εἴσελθε εἰς τὴν χαρὰν τοῦ κυρίου σου. 24 προσελθὼν δὲ καὶ ὁ τὸ ἓν τάλαντον εἰληφὼς εἶπεν· κύριε,

ἔγνων σε ὅτι σκληρὸς εἶ ἄνθρωπος, θερίζων ὅπου οὐκ ἔσπειρας καὶ συνάγων ὅθεν οὐ διεσκόρπισας, 25 καὶ φοβηθεὶς ἀπελθὼν ἔκρυψα τὸ τάλαντόν σου ἐν τῇ γῇ· ἴδε ἔχεις τὸ σόν. 26 ἀποκριθεὶς δὲ ὁ κύριος αὐτοῦ εἶπεν αὐτῷ· πονηρὲ δοῦλε καὶ ὀκνηρέ, ᾔδεις ὅτι

Christoph Heil Q 19,12f.15-24.26 (The Critical Edition of Q)

Lk 19,11-27

λέγων· κύριε, ἡ µνᾶ σου

λέγων· κύριε, ἡ µνᾶ σου

δέκα προσηργάσατο µνᾶς.

δέκα προσηργάσατο µνᾶς.

17

17

καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ· εὖ, ἀγαθὲ δοῦλε, ἐπὶ ὀλίγα ἦς πιστός, ἐπὶ πολλῶν σε καταστήσω.

καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ· εὖγε, ἀγαθὲ δοῦλε, ὅτι ἐν ἐλαχίστῳ πιστὸς ἐγένου, ἴσθι ἐξουσίαν ἔχων ἐπάνω δέκα πόλεων.

18

καὶ ἦλθεν ὁ 〚δεύτερος〛 λέγων· κύριε, ἡ µνᾶ σου

18

ἐποίησεν πέντε µνᾶς.

ἐποίησεν πέντε µνᾶς.

19

εἶπεν 〚αὐτ〛ῷ· 〚εὖ, ἀγαθὲ δοῦλε, ἐπὶ ὀλίγα ἦς πιστός,〛 ἐπὶ πολλῶν σε καταστήσω.

19

20

20

καὶ ἦλθεν ὁ ἕτερος

λέγων· κύριε, 21

〚ἔγνων〛 σε ὅτι σκληρὸς εἶ ἄνθρωπος, θερίζων ὅπου οὐκ ἔσπειρας καὶ συνάγων ὅθεν οὐ διεσκόρπισας, καὶ φοβ〚ηθεὶς ἀπελθὼν〛 ἔκρυψα 〚 σου〛 ἐν 〚τῇ γῇ〛· ἴδ〚ε〛 ἔχεις τὸ σόν.

22

λέγει αὐτῷ·

πονηρὲ δοῦλε, ᾔδεις ὅτι

καὶ ἦλθεν ὁ δεύτερος λέγων· ἡ µνᾶ σου, κύριε,

εἶπεν δὲ καὶ τούτῳ·

καὶ σὺ ἐπάνω γίνου πέντε πόλεων. καὶ ὁ ἕτερος ἦλθεν

λέγων· κύριε, ἰδοὺ ἡ µνᾶ σου ἣν εἶχον ἀποκειµένην ἐν σουδαρίῳ· 21 ἐφοβούµην γάρ σε, ὅτι ἄνθρωπος αὐστηρὸς εἶ, αἴρεις ὃ οὐκ ἔθηκας καὶ θερίζεις ὃ οὐκ ἔσπειρας.

22

λέγει αὐτῷ· ἐκ τοῦ στόµατός σου κρινῶ σε, πονηρὲ δοῦλε. ᾔδεις ὅτι ἐγὼ ἄνθρωπος αὐστηρός εἰµι,

Was erzählt die Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld? Mt 25,14-30

Q 19,12f.15-24.26 (The Critical Edition of Q)

Lk 19,11-27

θερίζω ὅπου οὐκ ἔσπειρα καὶ συνάγω ὅθεν οὐ διεσκόρπισα; 27 ἔδει σε οὖν βαλεῖν τὰ ἀργύριά µου τοῖς τραπεζίταις, καὶ ἐλθὼν ἐγὼ ἐκοµισάµην ἂν τὸ ἐµὸν σὺν τόκῳ.

θερίζω ὅπου οὐκ ἔσπειρα καὶ συνάγω ὅθεν οὐ διεσκόρπισα; 23 〚ἔδει σε οὖν βαλεῖν〛 µου τ〚ὰ〛 ἀργύρι〚α τοῖς〛 τραπεζ〚ίταις〛, καὶ ἐλθὼν ἐγὼ ἐκοµισάµην ἂν τὸ ἐµὸν σὺν τόκῳ.

28

ἄρατε οὖν ἀπ᾽ αὐτοῦ τὸ τάλαντον καὶ δότε τῷ ἔχοντι τὰ δέκα τάλαντα·

24

29

26

αἴρων ὃ οὐκ ἔθηκα καὶ θερίζων ὃ οὐκ ἔσπειρα; 23 καὶ διὰ τί οὐκ ἔδωκάς µου τὸ ἀργύριον ἐπὶ τράπεζαν; κἀγὼ ἐλθὼν σὺν τόκῳ ἂν αὐτὸ ἔπραξα. 24 καὶ τοῖς παρεστῶσιν εἶπεν· ἄρατε ἀπ᾽ αὐτοῦ τὴν µνᾶν καὶ δότε τῷ τὰς δέκα µνᾶς ἔχοντι – 25 καὶ εἶπαν αὐτῷ· κύριε, ἔχει δέκα µνᾶς – 26 λέγω ὑµῖν ὅτι παντὶ τῷ ἔχοντι δοθήσεται,

ἄρατε οὖν ἀπ᾿ αὐτοῦ τὴν µνᾶν καὶ δότε τῷ ἔχοντι τὰς δέκα µνᾶς·

25

τῷ 〚γὰρ〛 ἔχοντι παντὶ δοθήσεται,

τῷ γὰρ ἔχοντι παντὶ δοθήσεται καὶ περισσευθήσεται, τοῦ δὲ µὴ ἔχοντος καὶ ὃ ἔχει ἀρθήσεται ἀπ᾽ αὐτοῦ. 30 καὶ τὸν ἀχρεῖον δοῦλον

τοῦ δὲ µὴ ἔχοντος καὶ ὃ ἔχει ἀρθήσεται ἀπ᾿ αὐτοῦ.

〚27〛

ἐκβάλετε εἰς τὸ σκότος τὸ ἐξώτερον· ἐκεῖ ἔσται ὁ κλαυθµὸς καὶ ὁ βρυγµὸς τῶν ὀδόντων.

359

ἀπὸ δὲ τοῦ µὴ ἔχοντος καὶ ὃ ἔχει ἀρθήσεται. 27

πλὴν τοὺς ἐχθρούς µου τούτους τοὺς µὴ θελήσαντάς µε βασιλεῦσαι ἐπ᾽ αὐτοὺς ἀγάγετε ὧδε καὶ κατασφάξατε αὐτοὺς ἔµπροσθέν µου.

3. Was erzählt die Parabel? 3.1 Die Sklaven und das Geld Für die Q-Gruppe gehört die Sklaverei zu den gegebenen sozialen Strukturen, und das spiegelt sich auch in ihrem Spruchevangelium wider (vgl. z.B. Q 7,8). Schon Jesus hat in seiner metaphorischen Rede auch von Sklaven gesprochen, und Q nimmt das auf (vgl. Q 12,42-46; 14,16-23; 19,12-

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26).90 Die Sklaven werden in Q realistisch dargestellt: Sie sind der Willkür ihrer Herren bedingungslos ausgeliefert, und Gewalterfahrungen gehören zu ihrem Alltag.91 Es entsprach auch antiken Rechtsgepflogenheiten, Sklaven mit der Verwaltung eines Vermögensanteils zu betrauen und dann entsprechende Rechenschaft zu fordern.92 Nach römischem Recht erhielt ein Sklave, der für seinen Herrn Geschäfte machen sollte, ein peculium, d.h. vom Herrn geliehenes Kapital.93 Der mit dem peculium erwirtschaftete Gewinn stand dem Herrn zu, auch wenn dieser seinem Sklaven dafür manchmal einen „Bonus“ gab. Rabbinische Quellen nennen zwar den Begriff peculium nicht, scheinen aber das Konzept zu kennen.94

90

Vgl. LABAHN, Der Gekommene (s. Anm. 3), S. 385-394; MÜNCH, Gewinnen (s. Anm. 11), S. 243; J. M. ROBINSON (C. Heil/J. Verheyden [Hgg.]), The Sayings Gospel Q: Collected Essays (BEThL 189), Leuven: Peeters 2005, S. 647 („Q refers to slaves as part of the real world presupposed in parables …, without using the occasion to condemn the inhumanity of slavery“); SCHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 173f.; J. SVARTVIK, How Noah, Jesus and Paul Became Captivating Biblical Figures: The Side Effects of the Canonization of Slavery Metaphors in Jewish and Christian Texts, Journal of Greco-Roman Christianity and Judaism 2 (2001–2005) S. 168-227, S. 199f. 91 Harrill weist ferner auf die literarischen Parallelen der synoptischen SklavenGleichnisse zum Topos absente ero der römischen Komödie hin. J. A. H ARRILL, Slaves in the New Testament: Literary, Social, and Moral Dimensions, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2006, S. 25; DERS., The Psychology of Slaves in the Gospel Parables, BZ 55 (2011) S. 63-74, S. 71-73. Auch für gebildete Hörerinnen und Hörer der Gleichnisse blieben die Sklaven-Darstellungen im Bereich des Gewohnten: „The discursive strategy of the texts encourages the audience to think about slaves not as real individuals but in terms of comic stereotypes that supported the ideology and institution of ancient slavery“ (HARRILL, a.a.O., S. 74). 92 Vgl. LABAHN, Der Gekommene (s. Anm. 3), S. 390. BUSSE, Dechiffrierung (s. Anm. 22), S. 66 Anm. 57 führt einen Beleg aus den Digesten an (26,10,3,16), wonach es sogar verboten gewesen sei, anvertrautes Geld nicht Gewinn bringend anzulegen. In dem Text geht es jedoch nicht um ein peculium, sondern um einen Fall aus dem Vormundschaftsrecht, speziell um den Rechtsschutz des Mündels gegenüber dem tutor; vgl. K ASER, Privatrecht (s. Anm. 34), S. 363-367, bes. S. 363 Anm. 6. 93 Vgl. J. HEINRICHS, Peculium, in: Cancik/Schneider (Hgg.), Der Neue Pauly (s. Anm. 34), S. 9:461f.; KASER, Privatrecht (s. Anm. 34), S. 286-288; LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), S. 3:500; A. WACKE, Die libera administratio peculii: Zur Verfügungsmacht von Hauskindern und Sklaven über ihr Sondergut, in: T. Finkenauer (Hg.), Sklaverei und Freilassung im römischen Recht: Symposium für Hans Josef Wieling zum 70. Geburtstag, Berlin: Springer 2006, S. 251-316, bes. S. 271 zum nötigen unbeschränkten Verfügungsrecht bei längerer Abwesenheit des Hausherrn. 94 Vgl. C. HEZSER, Jewish Slavery in Antiquity, Oxford: Oxford University Press 2005, S. 275-284; D IES., Ben-Hur and Ancient Jewish Slavery, in: Z. Rodgers/M. DalyDenton/A. F. McKinley (Hgg.), A Wandering Galilean: FS Seán Freyne (JSJ Supplements 132), Leiden: E. J. Brill 2009, S. 121-139, S. 132.

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361

Der Auftrag an die Sklaven in Q 19,13 lautet folgerichtig: πραγµατεύσασθε! Dieser Auftrag ist nicht auf Bankgeschäfte eingeschränkt, sondern meint allgemein, mit dem anvertrauten Geld Gewinne anzustreben.95 Erst in der Antwort des Herrn an den dritten Sklaven wird das Bankwesen angesprochen: „〚Daher hättest du〛 mein Geld 〚zu den〛 Bank〚leuten〛 geben 〚müssen〛, und bei meinem Kommen hätte ich das Meine mit Zins zurückerhalten“ (Q 19,23). Die τραπεζῖται sind „Geldwechsler“, die allerdings nicht nur unterschiedliche Währungen tauschten, sondern auch Kredite gewährten und Geld verwalteten.96 Die Tora verbietet zwar das Nehmen von Zins (vgl. Ex 22,24; Lev 25,36f.; Dtn 23,20f.), und daher „war im Judentum die Rückgabe von Vermögen ohne Zins … normal“.97 Aber es gab Wege, das Zinsverbot zu umgehen,98 und 95

Zum Bedeutungsspektrum von πραγµατεύοµαι („Geldgeschäfte tätigen; tätig/aktiv sein“) vgl. BUSSE, Dechiffrierung (s. Anm. 22), S. 65 Anm. 54. Derrett meint, hier stehe das rabbinische Geschäftsmodell der ‫ ִ ְס ָק א‬im Hintergrund; diese Institution gab es allerdings wohl erst seit dem dritten Jh. n.Chr. und fällt daher zur Erklärung unseres Textes aus. J. D. M. DERRETT, The Parable of the Talents and Two Logia, in: Ders., Law in the New Testament, London: Darton, Longman & Todd 1970, S. 17-31, S. 21f. Zu ‫ ִ ְס ָק א‬vgl. ferner LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), S. 3:500 Anm. 40; Z. SAFRAI, The Economy of Roman Palestine, London: Routledge 1994, S. 299f. 96 Vgl. H.-J. DREXHAGE/H. KONEN/K. RUFFING , Die Wirtschaft des Römischen Reiches (1.–3. Jahrhundert): Eine Einführung (Studienbücher Geschichte und Kultur der Alten Welt), Berlin: Akademie Verlag 2002, S. 149-156; C. JOCHUM-BORTFELD/R. K ESSLER, Schatz/Bank, in: F. Crüsemann u.a. (Hgg.), Sozialgeschichtliches Wörterbuch zur Bibel, Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2009, S. 496f.; GNILKA, Matthäusevangelium (s. Anm. 3), S. 2:359f.; SAFRAI, Economy (s. Anm. 95), S. 291-293: „The money-changer (Hebrew: shulhani; Greek: trapezites) was more than just one who exchanged various currencies, but was also a banker of sorts who supplied credit and kept watch over the temporary surplus capital of various individuals.… Needless to say, though, the shulhani was found only in the polis …, and it is likely that most were nonJews, since the Jewish laws against the lending of money for interest would not have made it very profitable for a Jewish practitioner of this trade. Jewish law, however, did show some leniency for the few Jews involved in this occupation.… There were even a number of rabbis who were money-changers.“ Vgl. ferner GNILKA, a.a.O., S. 294f. 97 H. FRANKEMÖLLE, Das Matthäusevangelium: Neu übersetzt und kommentiert, Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk 2010, S. 206. Vgl. auch J. C. GERTZ, Zins II. Altes und Neues Testament, in: TRE 36 (2004), S. 672-674, S. 674 („Im Frühjudentum wurde das Zinsverbot weitgehend [zumindest nominell …] eingehalten und von den Rabbinen präzisierend verschärft …, fraglos gültig ist es für Josephus Flavius [Ap 2,208f.; Ant 4,266] und Philo von Alexandrien [SpecLeg 2,74-78], der das biblische Zinsverbot mit dem aristotelischen Argument des Zinses als eines unnatürlichen Gewinns begründet [Virt 82–87])“; KÄHLER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 174-179; SAFRAI, Economy (s. Anm. 95), S. 293. Q 6,34 (vgl. EvThom 95) ruft dazu auf, ohne Berechnung und ohne Spekulation zu leihen. 98 Vgl. M. GOODMAN, The First Jewish Revolt: Social Conflict and the Problem of Debt, JJS 33 (1982) S. 417-427, bes. S. 421-423; DERS., The Ruling Class of Judaea: The

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der dritte Sklave hätte als ultima ratio das anvertraute Geld gegen Zins anlegen können.99 Wenn man von den außergewöhnlich hohen Gewinnen der ersten beiden Sklaven absieht,100 handelt es sich also insgesamt um eine „realistische Geschichte aus dem Finanz- und Bankwesen“,101 besonders wenn man annimmt, dass der κύριος als urbaner Heide gedacht ist, der sich um das jüdische Zinsverbot nicht zu kümmern braucht.102 Das extravagant-parabolische liegt nicht in den sozio-ökonomischen Strukturen, die die Geschichte spiegelt, sondern offensichtlich im Verhalten des dritten Sklaven. 3.2 Der dritte Sklave und der Herr Hier stellt sich die Frage, ob es in dem Text um den dritten Sklaven oder um den Herrn (und die beiden ersten Sklaven) geht. Wessen Verhalten soll als Norm illustriert werden, an die sich die Adressaten ausrichten sollen? Oder anders gefragt: Wer ist der „Held“ der Geschichte? Die mehrheitliche Deutung sieht die Parabel als eine Erzählung über das Gerichtshandeln Gottes bzw. des Menschensohnes und Kyrios Jesus;103 der dritte Sklave spielt in dieser Auslegungstradition eine negative Rolle: Er hat seine Chance nicht genutzt.104 Origins of the Jewish Revolt against Rome A.D. 66–70, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1987, S. 56-58. 99 Das Imperfekt ἔδει drückt in Q 19,23a aus, dass etwas tatsächlich notwendig war, aber doch nicht geschah. In Q 19,23b leitet ein καί finale – für ἵνα (vgl. B LASS/ D EBRUNNER/REHKOPF, Grammatik [s. Anm. 40], §§ 3611 , 4429 ) – einen Irrealis ein: ἐκοµισάµην ἄν. 100 Vgl. KLOPPENBORG, Jesus (s. Anm. 3), S. 296f.; DERS., The Representation of Violence in Synoptic Parables, in: Becker/Runesson (Hgg.), Mark and Matthew: I (s. Anm. 7), S. 323-351, S. 350; MÜNCH, Gewinnen (s. Anm. 11), S. 244; ROHRBAUGH, Reading (s. Anm. 57), S. 35. 101 FRANKEMÖLLE, Matthäusevangelium (s. Anm. 97), S. 206. 102 So u.a. GERTZ, Zins II (s. Anm. 97), S. 674; LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), S. 3:502; MÜNCH, Gewinnen (s. Anm. 11), S. 245. 103 So u.a. P. HOFFMANN, Blinde Führer? Christliche Gemeindeleitung im Visier des Lukas, in: J. Verheyden/G. Van Belle/J. G. van der Watt (Hgg.), Miracles and Imagery in Luke and John: FS Ulrich Busse (BEThL 218), Leuven: Peeters 2008, S. 1-33, S. 7. Nach Hoffmann gehe es um „die Beziehung der Jünger zu Jesus“, besonders „um ihre Verantwortung gegenüber dem kommenden Kyrios“. Wie in Q 6,46 und 13,25 sei auch mit dem κύριος in Q 19,15f.18.20 Jesus gemeint. Ebenso K LOPPENBORG V ERBIN, Excavating Q (s. Anm. 8), S. 370. 104 So u.a. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (s. Anm. 3), S. 862f.; LABAHN, Der Gekommene (s. Anm. 3), S. 392f.; D. A. SMITH, Matthew and Q: The Matthean Deployment of Q and Mark in the Apocalyptic Discourse, EThL 85 (2009) S. 99-116, S. 105 („Like the similar parable from Q 12,42-46, the Parable of the Entrusted Talents encourages faithfulness to the task in the absence of the master, who will suddenly return“); WOLTER, Lukasevangelium (s. Anm. 13), S. 622f.

Was erzählt die Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld?

363

Joachim Jeremias meinte, die Parabel sei an Jesu Feinde gerichtet, nämlich die „die Führer des Volkes“, „insbesondere die Schriftgelehrten“.105 Als den untätigen Empfängern der Gaben Gottes werde ihnen nun ein besonders hartes Gericht angedroht. Auch François Bovon sieht im dritten Sklaven ein Gottesbild gespiegelt, das die Parabel kritisiert.106 Die reale Situation der antiken Sklaverei (vgl. oben Abschnitt 3.1) wird jedoch völlig ausgeblendet, wenn Bovon ausführt, dass die ersten beiden Diener „in einem Klima des Vertrauens gehandelt“ haben.107 Marius Reiser macht m.E. mit Recht darauf aufmerksam, dass die Parabeln vom ungerechten Verwalter (Lk 16,1-8) und die Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld denselben Skopus haben:108 Mit beiden ruft Jesus angesichts der bevorstehenden „Rechenschaftsablegung“ zur Umkehr auf und zu einem Handeln mit letztem Einsatz. Und denselben Einsatz, den Gauner und Geschäftemacher um einer schlechten Sache willen zeigen, müßten Jesu Jünger für die gute Sache aufbringen, die einzige, die den Einsatz wirklich wert ist: die Herrschaft Gottes.

Auch Detlev Dormeyer sieht in unserer Parabel die Erwartung an die ֶ ָ‫ ַק ל ו‬zu ziehen: Selbst wenn jemand berechAdressaten, den Schluss ‫חוֹמר‬ tigte Furcht hat, „darf er nicht in Lethargie, Passivität und destruktive Aktivität verfallen, darf er nicht seinen Handlungsspielraum ungenutzt lassen. Wie viel mehr gilt diese Aufforderung für den angstfreien Raum der angebrochenen Königsherrschaft Gottes?“109 105

J EREMIAS, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 18), S. 166. BOVON, Lukas (s. Anm. 13), S. 3:297f.: „Es ist seine Angst, die gesprochen hat, es ist das Bild, das er sich von seinem Herrn gemacht hat, das ihn bei seiner Rede leitet. Er hält sich für gerecht und meint, sein Herr dagegen sei unerbittlich (jedenfalls unfähig, die Machtbeziehung zugunsten einer Vertrauensbeziehung zu überwinden). Ein solches Bild des Herrn erinnert an jenes, das sich der älteste Sohn von seinem Vater macht (15,29-30), und an jenes, das Lukas den Pharisäern zuschreibt (5,21.30; 6,7; 7,30.39; 11,52; 15,2). Auf die harte Gleichbehandlung fixiert, verschließt sich der dritte Diener der liebenden Beziehung.… Der Herr nimmt seinen dritten Diener beim Wort. Er wird ihn auf der Basis seiner eigenen Worte richten.… In einem gewissen Sinn hat jeder den Gott, den er verdient oder den zu haben er beschließt.“ 107 BOVON, Lukas (s. Anm. 13), S. 3:298. 108 M. REISER, Die Gerichtspredigt Jesu: Eine Untersuchung zur eschatologischen Verkündigung Jesu und ihrem frühjüdischen Hintergrund (NTA.NF 23), Münster: Aschendorff 1990, S. 291f. 109 D. DORMEYER, Das Lukasevangelium: Neu übersetzt und kommentiert, Stuttgart: Katholisches Bibelwerk 2011, S. 217. Ähnlich G ERTZ, Zins II (s. Anm. 97), S. 674: „Die Parabel kontrastiert mittels des schockierenden Sujets vom heidnischen Herrn und seinen geschäftemachenden Sklaven das angstvolle Sicherheitsbedürfnis und die zupackende Risikobereitschaft, um angesichts des kommenden Gerichts zu mutigem und angstfreiem Handeln zu ermuntern“; VIA, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 83), S. 116-119 (S. 118: „Die Gegenwart ist eine Zeit für eine Tat des Risikos“). 106

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Nach Michael Labahn thematisiert die Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld „die Verantwortlichkeit des/der Einzelnen im Horizont der Wiederkunft des Menschensohnes“.110 Die geforderte Bewährung sei in Q an die Worte Jesu zurückgebunden, wie Q 6,43-49 deutlich macht.111 Claus-Peter März weist auf den deutlichen Bezug der Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld zu Q 12,39-46.112 Im Matthäusevangelium stehen beide Texte eng beisammen (Mt 24,43-51 und 25,14-30), nur getrennt durch die Parabel von den klugen und törichten Jungfrauen (Mt 25,1-13). Auch Paul Hoffmann sieht hier eine Verbindung: Wie die generelle Aussage über das Kommen des Menschensohnes in Q 12,39f. mit einem Gleichnis in Q 12, 42-46 über die Verantwortung der angesprochenen Jünger gegenüber dem wiederkommenden κύριος verbunden wurde, so auch in Q 17,23-37 und Q 19,12-26.113 Den Sklaven wurde ein Geldbetrag mit einem klaren Auftrag gegeben (Q 19,13). Die „lange Zeit“ der Abwesenheit des Herrn (Q 19,15) signalisiert nicht die Erfahrung der Parusieverzögerung,114 sondern deutet eher die ausreichende Möglichkeit an, den Auftrag von Q 19,13 zu erfüllen, „Geschäfte zu machen“.115 Damit wird das Versagen des dritten Sklaven umso deutlicher.116 Von daher ist die Charakterisierung des Herrn durch den dritten Sklaven (Q 19,21) überzogen negativ, um die eigene Untätigkeit zu erklären. Die 110 LABAHN, Der Gekommene (s. Anm. 3), S. 323, 390. Das eschatologische Urteil sei allerdings letztlich Gott vorbehalten: „Die Identifikationsoffenheit des fordernden ἄνθρωπος ist … besonders im Blick auf Gott konkretisierbar“ (LABAHN, a.a.O., S. 323). 111 M. LABAHN, Das Reich Gottes und seine performativen Abbildungen: Gleichnisse, Parabeln und Bilder als Handlungsmodelle im Dokument Q, in: R. Zimmermann/G. Kern (Hgg.), Hermeneutik der Gleichnisse Jesu: Methodische Neuansätze zum Verstehen urchristlicher Parabeltexte (WUNT 231), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2008, S. 259-282, S. 276. Auf den Bezug der Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld zum Gleichnis vom Haus auf Fels oder Sand machen auch BOVON, Lukas (s. Anm. 13), S. 3:299 und WOLTER, Lukasevangelium (s. Anm. 13), S. 621 aufmerksam. 112 MÄRZ, Rezeption (s. Anm. 3), S. 20 mit Anm. 65. 113 HOFFMANN, Mutmaßungen (s. Anm. 11), S. 264f., 270. KLOPPENBORG, Jesus (s. Anm. 3), S. 282 wies darauf hin, dass die Gleichnisse in Q vor allem als „demonstrative ‚proofs‘ and ornaments“ fungieren. 114 So u.a. mit MÄRZ, Rezeption (s. Anm. 3), S. 21; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 207 Anm. 179. Gegen LÜHRMANN, Redaktion (s. Anm. 3), S. 70f., 90 Anm. 8, 105; S CHULZ, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 293-295, S. 298. Nach HOFFMANN, Studien (s. Anm. 3), S. 48f. und KLOPPENBORG, Jesus (s. Anm. 3), S. 298f. ist Q 19 – als Illustration von Q 17,23-37 – eine Paränese in der Erwartung des bevorstehenden Kommens des Menschensohns. 115 Vgl. LABAHN, Der Gekommene (s. Anm. 3), S. 227. 116 Vgl. GNILKA, Matthäusevangelium (s. Anm. 3), S. 2:363: „Diese Zeit verspielen, ist das abschreckende Gegenbild, das der träge und zum Risiko nicht bereite Sklave abgibt.“

Was erzählt die Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld?

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Furcht vor der Härte und Ungerechtigkeit des Sklavenhalters führt den dritten Sklaven dazu, den sicheren Weg zu wählen und damit allerdings den Auftrag zu missachten. Der Herr nimmt den Vorwurf des Sklaven in einer ironischen rhetorischen Frage117 in 19,22 auf. Gerade wenn dem Sklaven die Härte und Raffgier des Herrn so klar war, dann hätte er doch entsprechend handeln müssen (Q 19,23).118 Seine Tatenlosigkeit macht den dritten Sklaven zu einem πονηρὸς δοῦλος.119 Dass dem κύριος nicht nur eine respektvolle Anrede geschuldet ist, sondern vor allem das konkrete Tun seiner Weisung, zeigt auch Q 6,46:120 τί .. µε καλεῖτε· κύριε κύριε, καὶ οὐ ποιεῖτε ἃ λέγω; Wichtig ist allerdings, dass der untätige Sklave in der Q-Parabel nicht bestraft wird – er wird „nur“ zurechtgewiesen, und ihm wird die Verantwortung für das anvertraute Geld entzogen. Das Geld wird dem tüchtigsten Sklaven gegeben, der damit auch nicht „belohnt“ wird, sondern dem gemäß seiner erwiesenen Fähigkeiten noch mehr zugetraut wird. Mit vielen anderen teilt allerdings Michael Labahn das Unbehagen darüber, dass „im Kontext eines modernen zügellosen Gewinnstrebens die Figur des Sklavenhalters in mehrfacher Hinsicht und nicht zu Unrecht zum Problem wird“.121 Arland D. Jacobson sieht in dem Text eine „Parable of the Rapacious Capitalist“.122 Wie kann aber der ungerechte, rücksichtslose und ausbeuterische Herr der Parabel als Metapher für Gott oder den wiederkommenden Christus dienen? Gar nicht, meinen einige neuere Beiträge und deuten daher den dritten Sklaven als positiven „Helden“ der Parabel, der im Gegensatz zum „harten“ Herrn (Q 19,21) steht. In diesem Fall wäre unsere Parabel ein sozialkritischer Widerstandstext: Der Sklave, der das Geld nicht „arbeiten“ lässt, sei positiv als Vorbild zu verstehen. Einige Autoren, die unsere Parabel so verstehen, seien hier kurz mit ihren Thesen vorgestellt: Richard L. Rohrbaugh kritisiert die herkömmliche Auslegung der Parabel dafür, nicht die Perspektive der ersten Adressaten einzunehmen, näm117

Vgl. BOVON, Lukas (s. Anm. 13), S. 3:298; HARNISCH, Gleichniserzählungen (s. Anm. 25), S. 39; LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), S. 3:502. Anders EBNER , Widerstand (s. Anm. 3), S. 421. 118 Vgl. HARNISCH, Gleichniserzählungen (s. Anm. 25), S. 39; V IA, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 83), S. 116. 119 Vgl. TUCKETT, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 295: „He has simply done nothing and it is this which the parable condemns.“ 120 Vgl. H OFFMANN, Mutmaßungen (s. Anm. 11), S. 275. Zur Bedeutung von κύριος in Q insgesamt vgl. LABAHN, Der Gekommene (s. Anm. 3), S. 295f.; ROBINSON, Sayings Gospel Q (s. Anm. 90), S. 407f.; TUCKETT, Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 214-218. 121 LABAHN, Der Gekommene (s. Anm. 3), S. 391 Anm. 511. 122 JACOBSON, Gospel (s. Anm. 1), S. 239-244.

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lich die von „kleinen Leuten“ in Galiläa.123 Aus deren Sicht macht der dritte Sklave die Gier der Reichen und die Unterdrückung der Armen offenbar.124 Diese positive Wertung des dritten Sklaven möchte Rohrbaugh mit einem Fragment aus dem Nazoräerevangelium (erste Hälfte des zweiten Jahrhunderts) untermauern, das bei Euseb von Cäsarea überliefert wird:125 Da aber das auf uns gekommene, in hebräischen Buchstaben (geschriebene) Evangelium die Drohung nicht gegen den richtet, der (das Talent) verborgen hatte, sondern gegen den, der ausschweifend gelebt hatte (κατὰ τοῦ ἀσώτως ἐζηκότος)126 – denn er [sc. der Herr] hatte drei Knechte: einen, der das Vermögen des Herrn mit Dirnen und Flötenspielerinnen aufzehrte (τὸν µὲν καταφαγόντα τὴν ὕπαρξιν τοῦ δεσπότου µετὰ πορνῶν καὶ αὐλητρίδων), einen, der den Gewinn vervielfältigte, und einen, der das Talent verbarg; daraufhin sei der eine angenommen, der zweite nur getadelt und der dritte ins Gefängnis geworfen worden –, so erwäge ich, ob nicht nach Matthäus die Drohung, die nach der Anfügung des Wortes gegen den, der nichts getan hatte, ausgesprochen ist, nicht gegen diesen ausgesprochen ist, sondern in einem Rückgriff gegen den zuvor erwähnten, der mit den Trunkenen gegessen und getrunken hatte.

Euseb scheint „die Version, die er in dem ‚hebräischen‘ Evangelium gefunden hat, als eine im Blick auf die ursprüngliche Intention des Gleichnisses zuverlässige Quelle zu werten“.127 Rohrbaugh meint nun, dass das Nazoräerevangelium richtig betont, dass der Sklave, der sein Talent verbarg, „angenommen“, aber nicht bestraft wurde. Der Sklave, der den Gewinn vervielfältigte, sei getadelt worden. Selbst wenn Rohrbaugh mit seiner Zuordnung Recht hätte – was zu bezweifeln ist –, wäre das eher als eine sekundäre Deutung des Matthäustextes zu verstehen als ein Schlüssel zum Verständnis der ursprünglichen Parabel.128 Ebenso wie Rohrbaugh meint auch William R. Herzog II., die Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld wolle – wie alle Parabeln Jesu – die Mechanismen der Ausbeutung in dieser Welt bewusst machen. Den kleinbäuerlichen 123 Vgl. E. W. STEGEMANN/W. STEGEMANN, Urchristliche Sozialgeschichte: Die Anfänge im Judentum und die Christusgemeinden in der mediterranen Welt, 2. Aufl., Stuttgart: Kohlhammer 1997, S. 28: Man könne sagen, dass die Parabel „auf den Werten der landwirtschaftlichen Bevölkerung geradezu herumtrampelt“. 124 Vgl. ROHRBAUGH, Reading (s. Anm. 57), S. 37: „Peasants hearing the story would probably have heaved a sigh of relief that the poor fellow understood what to do and did it well.“ S. 38: „Jesus’ peasant hearers would almost certainly have assumed it was a warning to the rich about their exploitation of the weak.“ 125 FREY, Fragmente (s. Anm. 3), S. 639f. Griechischer Text: KLOPPENBORG, Q Parallels (s. Anm. 3), S. 197. Vgl. auch BOVON, Lukas (s. Anm. 13), S. 3:285f.; EVANS, Reconstructing (s. Anm. 20), S. 172f.; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 209f. 126 Hier sieht HARNACK, Sprüche (s. Anm. 1), S. 85 Anm. 3 einen Einfluss von Lk 15,13: ἐκεῖ διεσκόρπισεν τὴν οὐσίαν αὐτοῦ ζῶν ἀσώτος. 127 FREY, Fragmente (s. Anm. 3), S. 625. 128 Zur Kritik vgl. auch FREY, Fragmente (s. Anm. 3), S. 635 Anm. 79.

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Adressaten solle aufgezeigt werden, wie sie handeln können, um die Spiralen der Gewalt, Armut und Unterdrückung zu zerbrechen. Der dritte Sklave sei als „whistle-blower“ der Held der Geschichte; er mache die negativen Seiten des herrschenden Systems öffentlich und nehme dafür persönliche Nachteile in Kauf.129 Für den argentinischen Theologen Alejandro Zorzin illustriert die Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld die Passion Jesu inmitten einer ungerechten und gewalttätigen Welt. Im dritten Sklaven sei der „Held“ der Geschichte zu entdecken, der auf Jesus verweist.130 Dieser Lesart schließt sich Michael Fricke an; er meint, der Parabel gehe es „um ein Aufklären über das, was jemanden erwartet, der sich gegen das herrschende System stellt“.131 Auch für Luise Schottroff passt die Brutalität des κύριος schlecht in ein Gleichnis von Gott;132 es ist daher als „ein Gleichnis von den gewalttätigen Strukturen in Politik und Ökonomie“ zu bestimmen.133 Der dritte Sklave spricht hier die Wahrheit über den Sklavenbesitzer und muss dafür die Konsequenzen tragen. „Er hat sich so verhalten, wie Jesus es in der Bergpredigt gelehrt hat.“134 Ähnlich bestimmt schließlich auch Martin Ebner die Geschichte vom anvertrauten Geld gar nicht als Parabel mit einem metaphorischen Prozess, der auf eine zweite, religiöse Sinnebene verweist, sondern als eine Beispielgeschichte, die eine ethische Botschaft vermitteln will:135 Mit dem 129 W. R. HERZOG II, Parables as Subversive Speech: Jesus as Pedagogue of the Oppressed, Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press 1994, S. 150-168, bes. S. 164: „The third retainer describes the aristocrat as an exploiter who lives off of the productive labor of others“; S. 167: „The hero of the parable is the third servant. By digging a hole and burying the aristocrat’s talent in the ground, he has taken it out of circulation. It cannot be used to dispossess more peasants from their lands through its dispersion in the form of usurious loans. By his actions, the third retainer dissociates himself from the system.… The whistle-blower is no fool. He realizes that he will pay a price, but he has decided to accept the cost rather than continue to pursue his exploitative path.“ 130 Referiert bei M. FRICKE, Jesus und die „Talente“ – lateinamerikanisch gelesen, KatBl 128 (2003) S. 39-43, S. 42f.; überarbeitete Fassung: Wer ist der Held des Gleichnisses? Kontextuelle Lesarten des Gleichnisses von den Talenten, BiKi 63 (2008) S. 76-80, S. 78f. 131 FRICKE, Held (s. Anm. 130), S. 78. 132 L. SCHOTTROFF, Sozialgeschichtliche Gleichnisauslegung: Überlegungen zu einer nichtdualistischen Gleichnistheorie, in: Zimmermann/Kern (Hgg.), Hermeneutik der Gleichnisse Jesu (s. Anm. 111), S. 138-149, S. 139. 133 SCHOTTROFF, Gleichnisauslegung (s. Anm. 132), S. 148. 134 L. SCHOTTROFF, Die Gleichnisse Jesu, Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2005, S. 292. 135 EBNER, Widerstand (s. Anm. 3), S. 418-423; DERS., „… du nimmst weg, was du nicht hingelegt hast“ (Lk 19,21): Strukturen der Gewalt in Palästina zur Zeit Jesu, BiKi 66 (2011) S. 159-163. Vgl. ähnlich auch M. BERNETT, Der Kaiserkult in Judäa unter den Herodiern und Römern: Untersuchungen zur politischen und religiösen Geschichte

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dritten Sklaven werde ein „Systemverweigerer“ zum mutigen Helden stilisiert.136 Die Parabel spiegele die „römische Herrschaftsordnung, die dem Königtum Gottes, das Jesus verkündet und für das er einsteht, diametral entgegengesetzt ist“.137 Der dritte Sklave streue Sand in das Getriebe dieses Systems, „weil er bereits in ein anderes System eingestiegen ist: in die Gottesherrschaft“.138 Diese Vorschläge zur Neuinterpretation der Parabel sind auf den ersten Blick sympathisch, exegetisch allerdings nicht überzeugend.139 Der dritte Sklave übt keine „Kritik an einer zerstörerischen Zins- und Geldwirtschaft“,140 sondern will die eindeutige Missachtung eines klaren Auftrags nachträglich verteidigen. Wie oben in 3.1 schon festgestellt, nimmt die frühe Jesusüberlieferung (vgl. Q 12,42-46; Mt 18,23-35; Lk 17,7-10) die Bildwelt der Sklaverei unkritisch auf, um theologische Aussagen in metaphorischer Form zu machen. Daher ist für Q dem unsympathischen κύριος trotz dessen fragwürdigen Gewinnstrebens zuzustimmen. Die gerade vorgestellten Interpretationen schärfen aber immerhin unseren Blick dafür, inwiefern der κύριος für Gott oder Jesus steht. Das furchterfüllte Bild, das der dritte Sklave von seinem Herrn hat, darf auf Judäas von 30 v. bis 66 n.Chr. (WUNT 203), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2007, S. 180: Der δοῦλος habe „vorgeblich aus Furcht, tatsächlich aber aus Protest gegen die Habgier des Herrn die mna nur sicher aufbewahrt“; EVANS, Reconstructing (s. Anm. 20), S. 170-175; H. FRANKEMÖLLE, Das Gleichnis von den Zentnern/Talenten (Mt 25,14-30): Zwei Leseweisen: Jesus und Matthäus, Orien. 69 (2005) S. 10-12, S. 11f.; J. UKPONG, The Parable of the Talents (Matt 25:14-30): Commendation or Critique of Exploitation? A Social-Historical and Theological Reading, Neotest. 46 (2012) S. 190-207 (die Parabel kritisiere die Ausbeutung durch den Herrn und die ersten beiden Sklaven, während der dritte Sklave als Vorbild für Christen präsentiert werde). 136 EBNER, Strukturen (s. Anm. 135), S. 160, 162. 137 EBNER, Strukturen (s. Anm. 135), S. 161. 138 EBNER, Strukturen (s. Anm. 135), S. 163. 139 Vgl. B. B. BRUEHLER, A Public and Political Christ: The Social-Spatial Characteristics of Luke 18:35–19:43 and the Gospel as a Whole in Its Ancient Context (PTMS 157), Eugene, Oreg.: Pickwick Publications 2011, S. 232f.; J. A. GLANCY, Slavery in Early Christianity, Oxford: Oxford University Press 2002, S. 126f.; K LOPPENBORG, Jesus (s. Anm. 3), S. 298 („Regardless of the sympathy the story might engender for the third servant, the exchange in 19:21-22 deprives the third servant [and the auditor] of the rhetorical high ground“); LABAHN, Der Gekommene (s. Anm. 3), S. 390-393 (393: „Die Parabel ist kein Ratschlag zum Wirtschaften und erzählt auch keine Wirtschaftsethik. Der Sozialhintergrund ist Bildmaterial, mit dem der Einsatz für den beauftragenden Menschen illustriert wird“); LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), S. 3:498f., 505; MÜNCH, Gewinnen (s. Anm. 11), S. 247; R. A. PIPER, Wealth, Poverty and Subsistence in Q, in: J. M. Asgeirsson/K. de Troyer/M. W. Meyer (Hgg.), From Quest to Q: FS James M. Robinson (BEThL 146), Leuven: Leuven University Press/Peeters 2000, S. 219-264, S. 239-241; WOHLGEMUT, Money, S. 109-120. 140 SCHOTTROFF, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 134), S. 113.

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keinen Fall direkt auf Gott oder Jesus allegorisiert werden. Die Parabel ist eben keine Allegorie, sondern eine kühne Metapher. Die Furcht ist eine Furcht vor den Strukturen der Welt, zu der auch Härte, Ungerechtigkeit, Gewalt, Unterdrückung und Ausbeutung gehören.141 Die Jünger sollen diese Furcht überwinden142 und Frucht bringen, aber im Blick auf den Gott, den Jesus sonst verkündet. Die Kontextualisierung in Q143 und in der gesamten Verkündigung Jesu ist notwendig, um unsere Parabel nicht zu einem isolierten und damit unverständlichen Text – im schlimmsten Fall: zu einem die gewaltsame (Selbst-)Ausbeutung propagierenden Text – werden zu lassen.144

Traditionsgeschichtlicher Exkurs Nun kann auch eine Antwort auf die Frage versucht werden, in welchem Stadium der Jesusüberlieferung unsere Parabel entstanden ist. Dem historischen Jesus abgesprochen wird die Parabel u.a. von Jürgen Becker, da sie „zu unmittelbar“ nachösterliche Standpunkte enthalte.145 Angesichts der nicht mehr rekonstruierbaren Q-Fassung der Parabel haben für Gerd Lüdemann hier historische Fragen von vornherein keine Erfolgsaussicht.146 Die Parabel ist jedoch weder nur aus späterer christlicher Sicht verstehbar noch bleibt sie unrekonstruierbar. Daher wird zu Recht ihr Ursprung in der Verkündigung des 141 Zur sozio-ökonomischen Lage in Galiläa zurzeit Jesu vgl. den Forschungsüberblick bei C. HEIL, „Selig die Sanftmütigen, denn sie werden das Land besitzen“ (Mt 5,5). Das matthäische Verständnis der Landverheißung in seinen frühjüdischen und frühchristlichen Kontexten, in: Senior (Hg.), The Gospel of Matthew at the Crossroads (s. Anm. 88), S. 389-417, S. 404f. Anm. 66. 142 Vgl. LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), S. 3:504; MÜNCH, Gewinnen (s. Anm. 11), S. 248: Die Parabel „will Hörerinnen und Hörer gewinnen, denen die Haltung des dritten Sklaven zunächst nahe steht“; R. V ALANTASIS, The New Q: A Fresh Translation with Commentary, London: T & T Clark 2005, S. 221. 143 Vgl. K LOPPENBORG, Jesus (s. Anm. 3), S. 298f.; VALANTASIS, Q (s. Anm. 142), S. 222f. 144 Diese „jesuanische Kontextualisierung“ wird von der exegetischen Mehrheit heute gefordert; vgl. u.a. LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), S. 3:505, 514 (nur wenn man die Parabel isoliert lese, werde sie zweideutig); MÜNCH, Gewinnen (s. Anm. 11), S. 250; ZELLER, Kommentar (s. Anm. 3), S. 85 („Diese vollmächtige Verwaltung muß dem Auftrag Jesu treu bleiben. Wir dürfen nie vergessen, daß wir in seinem Dienst stehen“). 145 BECKER, Jesus (s. Anm. 3), S. 73 Anm. 36. So auch P. FIEDLER, Die übergebenen Talente: Auslegung von Mt 25,14-30, BiLe 11 (1970) S. 259-273; D. R. MAC DONALD, Two Shipwrecked Gospels: The Logoi of Jesus and Papias’s Exposition of Logia about the Lord (SBL Early Christianity and Its Literature 8), Atlanta, Ga.: Society of Biblical Literature 2012, S. 358. So auch noch meine Sicht in: Beobachtungen zur theologischen Dimension der Gleichnisrede Jesu in Q, in: Lindemann (Hg.), The Sayings Source Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 649-659, S. 655. Das beurteile ich heute anders. 146 LÜDEMANN, Jesus (s. Anm. 3), S. 300.

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historischen Jesus gesehen, u.a. von John Dominic Crossan, Christian Dietzfelbinger, Martin Ebner, Joachim Gnilka, Ulrich Luz, Christian Riniker, Gerd Theißen/Annette Merz und Hans Weder.147 In der Verkündigung Jesu diente die Parabel wahrscheinlich der Mahnung, sich ganz auf die Königsherrschaft Gottes auszurichten und entsprechende Früchte zu bringen. Auf der Q-Ebene kann man von einer Christologisierung ausgehen: Hier las man in der Parabel wohl vor allem die Forderung, angesichts des wiederkommenden κύριος nach den Worten Jesu zu handeln.148

4. Fazit 1. Die beiden Gleichniserzählungen Mt 25,14-30 und Lk 19,12-27 gehen auf eine Parabel im Spruchevangelium Q zurück, deren schriftliche Fassung man größtenteils mit relativ guter Wahrscheinlichkeit rekonstruieren kann. 2. In Q dient die Parabel zur Illustration der Konsequenzen, die sich aus der eschatologischen Rede in Q 17,23-37 für die Q-Gruppe ergeben.149 Angesichts des unweigerlich einbrechenden Gerichts beim Wiederkommen des Menschensohns Jesus muss mit den von ihm anvertrauten Worten und Weisungen zupackend und dynamisch „Gewinn gemacht“ werden. Diejenigen, die sich so in der Nachfolge bewähren, werden dann auch „auf Thronen sitzen und die zwölf Stämme Israels richten“ (Q 22,28.30). 3. Mit der Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld erzählte Jesus eine weitere seiner anstößigen Geschichten mit „unmoralischen Helden“; hier sind es die beiden Sklaven, die mit dem übergebenen Kapital erfolgreich Geschäfte machen.150 Die Deutung der Parabel als Widerstandstext, der den dritten Sklaven als Helden charakterisiert, der sich dem Ausbeutungssystem verweigert, ist anachronistisch und nicht überzeugend. 147

J. D. CROSSAN, Der historische Jesus, München: C. H. Beck 1994, S. 576; C. D IETZFELBINGER, Das Gleichnis von den anvertrauten Geldern, BThZ 6 (1989) S. 222233; EBNER, Widerstand (s. Anm. 3), S. 422; GNILKA, Jesus (s. Anm. 24), S. 161; LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), S. 3:497f.; RINIKER , Gerichtsverkündigung (s. Anm. 2); G. THEIßEN/A. MERZ, Der historische Jesus: Ein Lehrbuch, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1996, S. 159, 244, 299; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 202 mit Anm. 164. 148 Vgl. LABAHN, Der Gekommene (s. Anm. 3), S. 393; WEDER, Gleichnisse (s. Anm. 3), S. 207. Nach Fleddermann sind die meisten κύριος-Belege in Q christologisch zu verstehen; vgl. DERS., The Plot of Q, EThL 88 (2012) S. 43-69, S. 58 Anm. 44, 62 Anm. 55; DERS., Q (s. Anm. 3), S. 863: „The Lord of the parable coincides with Jesus who narrates the parable in Q.“ 149 Vgl. H EIL, Beobachtungen (s. Anm. 145), S. 651. 150 Vgl. T. SCHRAMM/K. LÖWENSTEIN, Unmoralische Helden: Anstößige Gleichnisse Jesu, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1986, S. 158 et passim und nun BUSSE, Dechiffrierung (s. Anm. 22), S. 56 Anm. 23; LUZ, Matthäus (s. Anm. 2), S. 3:498; MÜNCH, Gewinnen (s. Anm. 11), S. 248.

“Master” as Character in the Q Parables Dieter T. Roth In his acclaimed study Anatomy of the Fourth Gospel: A Study in Literary Design, R. Alan Culpepper notes “One of the most interesting elements of any story is the cast of characters which populate it. Characters are defined by what they do (action) and what they say (dialogue) as well as what is said about them by the narrator or by other characters.”1 Though the field of character analysis is tremendously complex and multi-faceted,2 Culpepper’s observation remains helpful in highlighting why literary characters are so fascinating. What characters say, what they do, and how they are presented or interpreted in both explicit and implicit ways are integral to the significance and meaning perceived and created by the reader or hearer of a narrative.3 In the following, I am particularly interested in the manner in which a “master,” understood here in a broad sense as an individual with authority over a household, workers, or servants,4 is presented in the Q parables of Jesus and the potential significance of such a character for gaining insight into Q. Of course, such an endeavor involves the thorny questions of how 1 R. A. CULPEPPER, Anatomy of the Fourth Gospel: A Study in Literary Design (Foundations and Facets: New Testament), Philadelphia, Pa.: Fortress Press 1983, p. 7. 2 Cf., e.g., the overview in J. EDER , Die Figur im Film: Grundlagen der Figurenanalyse, Marburg: Schüren 2008, pp. 12-130. 3 M. Labahn rightly states, “Die Charaktere in Erzählungen und ihre Darstellung sind keine ‘objektiven’ Größen. Die direkten, indirekten und metaphorischen Merkmale der Charakterisierungen können bestimmt und aufgelistet werden, aber das Bild, das von einer Figur entsteht, wird letztendlich durch den Leser/die Leserin gestaltet bzw. in ihren Imaginationen erschaffen” M. LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender: Die Logienquelle als erzählte Geschichte (Arbeiten zur Bibel und ihrer Geschichte 32) Leipzig: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt 2010, p. 245. That is to say, it is not only the textinternal elements that shape the understanding of a character, but also the readers themselves who shape characters through their own perspectives and “temperament”, cf. S. K EEN, Readers’ Temperaments and Fictional Character, New Literary History 42 (2011), pp. 295-314. 4 For this reason, the identification of such a character is not restricted to a specific term, but can include, e.g., a κύριος, an οἰκοδεσπότης, or a character referred to by both terms.

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one defines or identifies a parable and of how one proposes to approach the Q text. I have offered initial thoughts on both of these questions elsewhere, the conclusions of which can only be summarized here.5 First, my understanding of a parable corresponds with the definition set forth in the Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu, which leads to a rather more extensive number of passages in Q being considered parables.6 Second, though I am persuaded that Q was a written text and am appreciative of the many insights that have been gained through the meticulous efforts to reconstruct the wording of Q, I remain skeptical of our ability in many instances, and especially in the parables, to reconstruct the verbatim Q text. For this reason, I approach Q, not as a reconstructed text behind Matthew and Luke, but rather as an intertext between Matthew and Luke where the focus falls upon the images and narratival elements that Matthew and Luke have drawn from Q. Given that recent reflection on the theory of character analysis has highlighted the importance of how a character is received, visually or aurally, by an audience,7 it is precisely the reception and utilization of Q characters by Matthew and Luke that provide the avenue for insight into those characters in Q. In other words, it is the reflection of the Q characters in Matthew and Luke, and not a reconstructed, verbatim text of Q that is vital for the here proposed character analysis. 5

Cf. D. T. ROTH, Die Parabeln in der Logienquelle: ‘Alte’ Probleme und ‘Neue’ Ansätze, in: C. Heil/G. Harb/M. Hölscher (eds.), Built on Rock or Sand? Q Studies – Retrospects, Introspects and Prospects (BEThL), Leuven: Peeters (forthcoming). 6 The definition proposed in that volume is: “Eine Parabel ist ein kurzer narrativer (1), fiktionaler (2) Text, der in der erzählten Welt auf die bekannte Realität (3) bezogen ist, aber durch implizite oder explizite Transfersignale zu erkennen gibt, dass die Bedeutung des Erzählten vom Wortlaut des Textes zu unterscheiden ist (4). In seiner Appelstruktur (5) fordert er einen Leser bzw. eine Leserin auf, einen metaphorischen Bedeutungstransfer zu vollziehen, der durch Ko- und Kontextinformationen (6) gelenkt wird” R. ZIMMERMANN, Die Gleichnisse Jesu: Eine Leseanleitung zum Kompendium, in: Idem et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu, Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2007, pp. 3-46, p. 25. An English language discussion of this definition can be found in IDEM, How to Understand the Parables of Jesus: A Paradigm Shift in Parable Exegesis, Acta Theologica 29 (2009), pp. 157-182, pp. 170-173. By applying this definition, the Kompendium offers a list of 28 parables of Jesus in Q. 7 Eder notes, “Da kommunikative Handlungen und Texte funktional auf die Rezeption ausgerichtet sind, können auch die Eigenschaften von Figuren letztlich nur im Rückgriff auf Formen der Rezeption festgestellt werden” E DER, Die Figur im Film (see n. 2), p. 132. On the following page he continues that the most important categories of a character analysis are derived from the reception of that character for “erstens machen wir bei der Analyse nicht nur Aussagen über Figuren, sondern auch über die verschiedenen Formen der Figurenrezeption. Und zweitens setzten Aussagen über Figuren letzlich Aussagen über die Rezeption voraus … Figurenanalyse ist im Grunde nichts anderes als eine systematische Rekonstruktion und Elaboration verschiedener Rezeptionsformen auf der Basis möglichst genauer Daten und Beobachtungen” ibid., p. 133.

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By considering the narrated world of Q through Matthew and Luke, the characters of that world come into focus.8 Matthew and Luke, as readers of Q, pick up on the explicit and implicit character traits of figures in the Q parables and develop certain conceptions of those characters based on these descriptions, as well as on their own respective worldview and experiences.9 Those conceptions, or “mental models,” are then reflected in their own gospel accounts and that is where our examination begins. As a heuristic model for this examination, the Uhr der Figur developed by Jens Eder will be utilized.10 Even though several elements of this approach are applicable only to cinematic presentations of characters (the focus of Eder’s study), many components are relevant and helpful for the analysis of literary characters. In this Uhr characters are considered under four rubrics: (1) characters as Artefakt where the question “How and through what means is a character presented?”, with particular emphasis on the aesthetic presentation, is considered; (2) characters as fiktives Wesen where the central question is “What is the character – what characteristics, relationships, and conduct does the character exhibit as an inhabitant of a fictional world?”; (3) characters as Symbol where one considers “What does the character represent and what ‘indirect meanings’ does the character convey?”; and (4) characters as Symptom where the interest lies in the reasons why a particular character appears or is presented in a certain way and what outcomes the character effects.11 In utilizing this Uhr der Figur particular emphasis falls on the diegetic presentation of the character, the conception of the character in the narrative and socio-cultural context, and the extension of the conception of the character into the symbolic realm. The goal, therefore, is to gain insight into the “master” character in Q through these interconnected perspectives without ultimately slotting the character into a specific or perhaps clichéd classification.12 8

This narrated world includes, in particular, the interplay between plot and character. Cf. J. A. Darr’s comment “Audiences ‘actualize’ plot in terms of character and character in terms of plot” J. A. D ARR, On Character Building: The Reader and the Rhetoric of Characterization in Luke-Acts (Literary Currents in Biblical Interpretation), Louisville, Ky.: Westminster John Knox Press 1992, p. 39. 9 As S. Finnern observes, “Die erzählte Welt existiert im Bewusstsein des Rezipienten, daher sind die Figuren als Teil der erzählten Welt dementsprechend ‘mentale Modelle’ … Um ein solches ‘mentales Modell’ einer Figur zu konkretisieren, ergänzt der Leser die Figureninformationen im Text durch sein Weltwissen und sein Wissen über die erzählte Welt” S. FINNERN, Narratologie und biblische Exegese: Eine integrative Methode der Erzählanalyse und ihr Ertrag am Beispiel von Matthäus 28 (WUNT II, 285), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2010, p. 127. 10 Cf. especially the summary diagram in E DER, Die Figur im Film (see n. 2), p. 711. 11 Cf. the summary in EDER, Die Figur im Film (see n. 2), pp. 710, 712. 12 Despite numerous helpful components to C. Bennema’s studies on character in the Fourth Gospel, even his attempted non-reductionistic classification in locating characters

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1. The Q “Master” Parables There are seven parables of Jesus in Q where a “master” appears as a character: 10,2; 12,39; 12,42-46; 13,24-27; 14,16-23; 16,13; and 19,1213.15-24.26.13 Quite clearly, the same character does not appear in each of these parables, i.e., it is not the same “master” who appears in different parables, even if on the symbolic level the reader/hearer may perceive some interconnectedness. For the most part, there is very little about these characters that is revealed directly; however, even when considering elements of indirect characterization, in only three of these seven parables is the “master” involved in dialogue (13,24-27; 14,16-23; 19,12-13.15-24. 26).14 For this reason, a character analysis must focus predominately on the actions and implicitly communicated considerations of this character. As is so often the case in the parables, not only are there few characters, but their presentation includes only the barest necessities required for the parable.15 on a continuum of “degree of characterization” from “agent” to “type” to “personality” to “individuality” results in a somewhat clichéd presentation, cf. C. BENNEMA, A Theory of Character in the Fourth Gospel with Reference to Ancient and Modern Literature, Biblical Interpretation 17 (2009), pp. 375-421 and IDEM, Encountering Jesus: Character Studies in the Gospel of John, Milton Keynes: Paternoster Press 2009. 13 This list assumes that Luke 12,35-38 was not in Q. For an alternative view cf. B. K OLLMANN, Lk 12,35-38: Ein Gleichnis der Logienquelle, ZNW 81 (1990), pp. 254-261 and C. M. TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity: Studies on Q, Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1996, pp. 251-252. In addition, though the statement by the centurion in Q 7,8, which involves authority over a servant, should also be classified as a parable (see DORMEYER, p. 203 [in this volume]), this study’s focus on parables spoken by Jesus in Q means that this passage will not be considered here. 14 For a summary of direct characterization (the narrator tells the reader something about a character), indirect characterization (the action and interaction of characters in a narrative), and characterization through analogy (using metaphors with ethical or ideological values), cf. LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (see n. 3), pp. 243244. For categories of indirect characterization, including: speech, action, external appearance, environment, and comparison/contrast, cf. D. B. GOWLER , Host, Guest, Enemy and Friend: Portraits of the Pharisees in Luke and Acts (Emory Studies in Early Christianity 2), New York, N.Y.: Peter Lang 1991, p. 73. For a discussion of direct and indirect characterization as not strictly separated, but rather poles on a continuum, cf. E DER, Figur im Film (see n. 2), p. 361. 15 Cf. the observations along these lines in W. HARNISCH, Die Gleichniserzählungen Jesu: Eine hermeneutische Einführung (UTB.W 1343), 4th ed., Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 2001, pp. 29-36. His bringing parables and fables into contact and his general, though nuanced, view of the parables’ characters as simplistic and stereotyped figures is, however, in my estimation, overstated. Nevertheless, the overall paucity of detail is particularly obvious when one considers, e.g., the list of twelve possible categories for analyzing a character presented in FINNERN, Narratologie (see n. 9), p. 134 and realizes that the parables offer little or no data for most of the categories.

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In the following discussion, I will first analyze the “master” character as Artefakt and as fiktives Wesen through a consideration of the individual parables. The final thoughts in these sections provide the grounds for a subsequent meta-level analysis of the “master” character as Symbol and Symptom. Of course, characters are viewed differently on a first reading, after multiple readings, and upon extended reflection.16 Though the familiarity of the parables complicates the attempt, I have undertaken a heuristic division of the different components of Eder’s Uhr, with the Artefakt and fiktives Wesen aspects being located more on a “first reading” level and the Symbol and Sympton aspects being located on the “multiple readings” and “extended reflection” level.

2. Q 10,2 In the parable concerning workers for the harvest, a parable that functions as an introductory image to the mission discourse in Matthew and Luke,17 both Matthew and Luke refer to a κύριος τοῦ θερισµοῦ.18 The prominence of the θερισµός image in the parable is highlighted by repeated references to it: at the outset the θερισµός is described as πολύς, in the middle one finds the already mentioned κύριος τοῦ θερισµοῦ, and at the end the harvest is explicitly stated to belong to him (θερισµός αὐτοῦ). Though the imagery of the harvest itself is often discussed, in particular due to the rich background that the time of the harvest has in the HB and Second Temple literature as an image of the time of the eschatological judgment (cf. Isa 18,5; Joel 4,13, Mic 4,12; Isa 27,12; 2 Bar. 70,2; 4 Ezra 4,28-32),19 it is 16

Cf. FINNERN, Narratologie (see n. 9), p. 132. For a discussion of this parable in the context of questions concerning mission and ethics in Q, but with points of contact to the discussion below, cf. D. T. ROTH, Missionary Ethics in Q 10:2-12, HTS Teologiese Studies/Theological Studies 68 (2012), Art. #1215, 7 pages, http://dx.doi.org./10.4102 /hts.v68i1.1215 and the slightly expanded and edited version Missionary Ethics in Q 10:2-12, in: J. Kok et al. (eds.), Sensitivity to Outsiders: Exploring the Dynamic Relationship between Mission and Ethics in the New Testament and Early Christianity (WUNT II), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, forthcoming. 18 In fact, most of the wording of the entire parable appears verbatim in the Matthean and Lukan accounts. The location of the parable, however, differs slightly. In Luke, the parable is one of two introductory statements to the mission discourse, whereas in Matthew the initial commissioning and listing of the twelve disciples (Matt 10,1-4) falls between this parable (Matt 9,37-38) and the sending out of the disciples (Matt 10,5). Whether the parable immediately preceded the mission instructions or not does not alter the fact that its imagery governs at least a component of the missional conception in Q. 19 Though M. Tiwald clearly recognizes that harvest imagery functions as an image for the time of the eschatological judgment, he also cautions against moving too quickly into judgment imagery with the term θερισµός, as only in Isa 18,5 is it used in the LXX as 17

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the character identified as the κύριος τοῦ θερισµοῦ who is of primary interest here. Concerning the “master” as Artefakt, the term κύριος τοῦ θερισµοῦ itself is interesting. This term does not appear prior to this occurrence in the extant Greek literature, and though there are LXX references, e.g., to κύριος τοῦ λάκκου (Exod 21,34), κύριος τοῦ οἴκου (Judg 19,23), κύριος τοῦ ὄρους (1 Kgs 16,24) and a similar NT reference to a κύριος τοῦ ἀµπελῶνος (Matt 20,8; 21,40; Mark 12,9; Luke 20,13.15), in these instances the owner of a location, and not the produce of a location are in view.20 Furthermore, the “lord of the harvest” is introduced in the parable through a turn in the underlying and implied narrative of the parable. Having indicated that the harvest is πολύς, but that there is a paucity of workers for the harvest,21 the parable continues with a call to petition the κύριος τοῦ θερισµοῦ to send workers into the harvest. It is worth noting that the variables concerning the timing or the size of the harvest cannot be changed; the only variable that can be altered is the number of workers sent out to bring the harvest in. At the same time, this call to petition for an increase in the number of workers may create a certain level of cognitive dissonance. The parable does not simply recount that the lord of the harvest needs to be informed about the large size of the harvest, but that he should be petitioned to send more laborers. Why draw attention to the one to whom the harvest belongs needing to be asked to send sufficient workers to reap the harvest? Does

a metaphor for judgment, cf. M. TIWALD, Wanderradikalismus: Jesu erste Jünger – ein Anfang und was davon bleibt (ÖBS 20), Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang 2002, p. 151. I have also argued that though the eschatological component in the imagery is indisputable, the focus here is not actually on the nearness of the harvest since the temporal component remains in the background. The primary component of the image here, and that which is brought into the foreground, is not the time of the harvest, but rather the size of the harvest, cf. ROTH, Missionary Ethics (see n. 17), p. 2. 20 R. Zimmermann refers to the term as a “kühne Metapher” R. ZIMMERMANN, Folgenreiche Bitte! (Arbeiter für die Ernte) – Q 10,2 (Mt 9,37f./Lk 10,2/EvThom 73), in: Idem et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu (see n. 6), pp. 111-118, p. 115. M. Frenschkowski notes, “Kyrios with a genitive is common in polytheistic contexts; but here it is derived from the metaphorical background of the designation” M. FRENSCHKOWSKI, Kyrios in Context: Q 6:46, the Emperor as ‘Lord’, and the Political Implications of Christology in Q, in: M. Labahn/J. Zangenberg (eds.), Zwischen den Reichen: Neues Testament und römische Herrschaft: Vorträge auf der ersten Konferenz der European Association for Biblical Studies (TANZ 36), Tübingen: Francke 2002, pp. 95-108, p. 103. 21 The image implies that the harvest is thus in danger of being lost or ruined (cf. 1 Sam 12,17; Prov 26,1; Theophrastus, De causis plantarum 4.13.6).

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not even the most basic economic interest include a strong impetus to ensure that the harvest can be brought in? 22 As a fiktives Wesen, therefore, this “master” is presented as the figure who has the authority to send workers into the field, and indeed the one upon whom the sending is dependent. At the same time, that the parable specifically refers to petitioning the “master” to send the laborers so that the large harvest, or better his large harvest, is not lost raises the question of why such a petition should be necessary. Perhaps, however, it is precisely this curiosity that points to the parable’s interest in something beyond merely an economic concern and in a reality beyond an annual grain harvest.23

22

J. S. KLOPPENBORG, The Power and Surveillance of the Divine Judge in the Early Synoptic Tradition, in: J. Verheyden (ed.), Christ and the Emperor: The Evidence from the Gospels (Biblical Tools and Studies), Leuven: Peeters (forthcoming) states that “the scenario used by Q is a standard one in the agricultural realm,” assuming that an absentee landlord is in view. Such a view may be correct (though cf. S. FREYNE, Galilee from Alexander the Great to Hadrian 323 B.C.E. to 135 C.E. [University of Notre Dame Center for the Study of Judaism and Christianity in Antiquity 5], Wilmington, Del.: Michael Glazier/Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press 1980, pp. 156-170 for discussion of the difficulties of ascertaining the situation in Galilee). The papyri that he cites (PSI VI 345 and P.Cair.Zen. I 59049.3-4), however, only make mention of a request to send ten guards during the harvest time and of a manager requesting that the owner send someone to collect the hay since he is otherwise occupied. It seems to me that a request for guards or for a replacement is not quite the same scenario as the one presented in this parable. 23 Cf. Eder’s comment that when one is confronted with information concerning a character that results in a certain level of cognitive dissonance, the result is that one either ignores or reinterprets the disturbing information, or modifies the model or framework within which one views the character, cf. EDER, Figur im Film (see n. 2), p. 213; cf. also Z IMMERMANN, Folgenreiche Bitte! (see n. 20), p. 115.

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3. Q 12,39 In the next parable to consider, Matthew and Luke both refer to an οἰκοδεσπότης.24 Michael Labahn has observed, “Einen überraschend häufigen, aber keineswegs konsistenten Auftritt in Q erlebt die Figur des Hausherrn.”25 In this instance, as an Artefakt, the master of the house is mentioned at the outset of the parable. There is, however, no further aesthetic reflection upon the character, he is simply there as a solitary, but realistic, figure.26 At the same time, the hearer of the parable is aware that as a fiktives Wesen, this figure was ignorant of the time of the robber’s coming. In the counterfactual-hypothetical conditional related by both Matthew and Luke,27 the parable recounts what would have happened had the οἰκοδεσπότης known the time of the thief’s arrival. As it is, however, the robber, who came at an unknown time, “dug into” the master’s house and was therefore successful in breaking in.28 In this way, the parable also relates that the οἰκοδεσπότης has been negatively affected. John Kloppenborg’s contribution to this volume reveals how the rhetoric of numerous Greek papyri reflect both the anger and frustration such an individual felt on account of the violation, and the violence that often accompanied the 24

Once again, much of the Matthean and Lukan presentation of the parable is verbatim. Differences in whether the temporal element is a φυλακή (Matt 24,43) or a ὥρα (Luke 12,39), whether the “permitting” διορυχθῆναι is described with the verb ἐάω (Matt 24,43) or ἀφίηµι (Luke 12,39), and whether the house was referred to as an οἰκία (Matt 24,43) or an οἶκος are not particularly significant for the structure of or the images presented in the parable. The Matthean statement that the master ἐγρηγόρησεν ἂν, not found in Luke at this point does add the image of sleeping/being awake in Matthew’s presentation and picks up on the picture in Matt 24 of preparedness as “eschatologische Wachsamkeit” LABAHN, Achtung Menschensohn! (Vom Dieb) – Q 12,39f. (Mt 24,43f./Lk 12,39f./EvThom 21,5), in: Zimmermann et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu (see n. 6), pp. 154-160, p. 159; cf. also C. MÜNCH, Die Gleichnisse Jesu im Matthäusevangelium: Eine Studie zu ihrer Form und Funktion (WMANT 104), Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag 2004, pp. 224-225. The presence or absence of this phrase in Q, however, does not change the hypothetical counterfactual discussed above. 25 LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (see n. 3), p. 300. 26 Concerning the figure of an οἰκοδεσπότης, especially within the broader context of family life, cf. E. DASSMANN/G. SCHÖLLGEN, “Haus II (Hausgemeinschaft)”, in: RAC 13 (1986), pp. 802-905. 27 The Thomas version of the parable in Gos. Thom. 21,5 has a future conditional. 28 Cf. LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (see n. 3), p. 383. The position of J. Jeremias, following C. H. Dodd, that the aorists “surely show” that “Jesus draws the parable from an actual happening, some recently effected burglary, about which the whole village is talking” is unnecessary, J. J EREMIAS, The Parables of Jesus, 2nd ed., trans. S. H. Hooke, London: SCM Press 1972, p. 49. The description of the entry, however, indicates that this is a master in a non-elite house.

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intrusion.29 An interesting question to consider here is whether the reader/ hearer would more likely construct a mental model of this οἰκοδεσπότης focusing upon his lack of knowledge or upon his adversely perceived condition after having been robbed.

4. Q 12,42-46 Though there are a few differences between the Matthean and Lukan presentation of this parable,30 they, in essence, do not affect the presentation of the master. The parable begins with a question concerning “who is” a πιστός and φρόνιµος δοῦλος (Matt 24,45) or οἰκονόµος (Luke 12,42), and in the context of this question introduces the κύριος who entrusts his “household” to this servant.31 The conduct of the one entrusted with responsibilities in the master’s absence and the significance of this aspect of the account for readers/hearers of the parable is interesting to consider;32 however, once again, the focus here is upon the κύριος in the parable. As an Artefakt this “master” is introduced by the narrator, and the narrator mentions him again in vv. 43-44. In v. 45, however, it is in internal dialogue by the slave, that the κύριος is mentioned. Not only is this the first instance in these parables where anyone other than the narrator is involved in the presentation of the “master” character, the κύριος is labeled as “my master,” which serves to set the κύριος firmly within the context of his relationship to the slave not merely from the narrator’s perspective from outside the parable, but also from the perspective of another character within the parable. This shift is short lived, however, as in v. 46, the reference to the κύριος once again appears in the comments of the narrator. It is worth noting how this κύριος is present in the parable at every turn 29

Cf. J. S. K LOPPENBORG, The Parable of the Burglar in Q, pp. 293-295 (in this volume). The complaints of having been wronged and the depiction of the thieves as “bandits” are particularly clear examples of this phenomenon. 30 A helpful overview is found in B. B. SCOTT, Hear Then the Parable: A Commentary on the Parables of Jesus, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 1989, pp. 208-210. He concludes with a statement reflecting the general consensus: “It is obvious that Matthew and Luke have inherited a common parable” ibid., p. 210. Cf. also K. R. SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent: A Comprehensive Guide to the Parables of Jesus, Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 2008, p. 496 and A. J. HULTGREN, The Parables of Jesus: A Commentary (The Bible in its World), Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans 2000, pp. 158159 and the literature cited there. On the integrity of the parable see A. J. DEWEY, A Prophetic Pronouncement: Q 12:42-46, Forum 5 (1989), pp. 99-108, pp. 102-103. 31 Matthew writes ἐπὶ τῆς οἰκετείας αὐτου and Luke ἐπὶ τῆς θεραπείας αὐτοῦ. 32 E.g., nearly all of Hultgren’s discussion of the parable focuses on these issues, cf. H ULTGREN, Parables (see n. 30), pp. 157-168. Cf. also the summary in SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 30), pp. 500-501.

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even as his position in the timeline of the parable’s narrative changes: he has given a task (past time), he is absent (present time), he will return (future time).33 As a fiktives Wesen the actions of the κύριος along this temporal axis reveal a narrative gap in that there is no mention of his departure.34 When the scenario of the master’s return is mentioned in v. 43, the hearer of the parable has to mentally fill this gap with the departure of the κύριος before “catching up” to the narrative with the master’s return. Even in the statement by the slave concerning the delay of the κύριος, the master’s absence must be inferred. At this point, the key issue for the advancement of the plot of the parable is not that the master goes away and therefore is absent, but rather that the return of the master is delayed.35 Of greater significance for the characterization of the κύριος is his conduct towards his slave. Regardless of whether a formal patron-client relationship or context forms the backdrop of this parable,36 Christine Gerber rightly notes that “als Bildspendebereich fungiert der antike Haushalt, konkret die Relation zwischen einem Sklaven und seinem Besitzer.”37 Unlike in 12,39, where no servants or slaves of the οἰκοδεσπότης are mentioned, here it is obvious that the κύριος has, not only one, but numerous slaves. The special arrangement that he establishes with one slave sets up the context in which the slave’s actions and the master’s response occur. In that response, only that which the κύριος does is related; no portrayal of how he feels is offered. That he is pleased in v. 44 and enraged 33

Cf. also the discussion in C. GERBER, Es ist stets höchste Zeit (Vom treuen und untreuen Haushalter) – Q 12,42-46 (Mt 24,45-51/Lk 12,42-46), in: Zimmermann et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu (see n. 6), pp. 161-170, pp. 163-164. 34 This is also noted by Gerber in considering narrative elements in the parables. She observes: “Die Darstellung beschränkt sich auf das Notwendigste, so dass das Gesagte in den Vordergrund tritt” C. GERBER, Es ist stets höchste Zeit (see n. 33), p. 162. 35 Pace HULTGREN, Parables (see n. 30), p. 160. In the context of a discussion concerning the authenticity of this parable, Kloppenborg argues that the “blessed” statement in 12,43, the internal monologue of the servant in 12,45a, and 12,46 with the master’s return “all presuppose the Son of Man saying in 12:40 rather than any narrative element in the parable itself” J. S. KLOPPENBORG, The Sayings Gospel Q and the Quest of the Historical Jesus, HThR 89 (1996), pp. 307-344, p. 341. Although the parable certainly picks up on 12,40, there is a sense in which the delay is required by the plot. As Snodgrass points out, “in the second scene the servant is tempted to shirk his responsibility only because of the delay” SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 30), p. 499. 36 Scott, e.g., interprets the parables of departure and return as employing “a specific part of the patron-client network” SCOTT, Hear Then the Parable (see n. 30), p. 211. For criticism of using this category to analyze parables involving slavery, cf. J. A. G LANCY, Slaves and Slavery in the Matthean Parables, JBL 119 (2000), pp. 67-90, pp. 69-70, 7475. 37 GERBER, Es ist stets höchste Zeit (see n. 33), pp. 164-165.

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in v. 46 is part of the mental image created by the reader.38 Though the positive example in vv. 43-44 results in a matter-of-fact relating of a certain benevolence of the κύριος in his rewarding the slave with an elevated status, “both from the rule of end stress and from the amount of words used the emphasis falls on the negative example.”39 In this negative example, the harsh punishment in response to the unfaithful actions of the slave,40 depicted especially by the use of διχοτοµέω (literally “to cut in two”), is striking.41 The brutal end to which the slave shirking his duties is subjected may create a certain fear-filled mental model of the κύριος, who, despite being able and willing to reward faithfulness, could arrive at an unexpected moment and execute violent judgment.42

38 This is a clear example of the observation by FINNERN, Narratologie (see n. 9), p. 135: “Die Gefühle einer Figur werden vom Rezipienten oft unbewust mitgedacht. Sie sind in klassischer wie in neuerer Literatur nur selten explizit genannt.” 39 SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 30), p. 499. Cf. also GERBER , Es ist stets höchste Zeit (see n. 33), p. 168. 40 GERBER, Es ist stets höchste Zeit (see n. 33), p. 163 rightly notes “Die Rekonstruktion des Q-Textes von V. 45b ist unsicher, der Sinn aber klar.” 41 Hultgren is correct in assessing the suggestion that the term means “to cut a person off from the community, while appealing, is not warranted” H ULTGREN, Parables (see n. 30), p. 161, cf. n. 13 on that page for relevant literature. Cf. also J. S. KLOPPENBORG, The Representation of Violence in the Synoptic Parables, in: E.-M. Becker/A. Runesson (eds.), Mark and Matthew I: Comparative Readings: Understanding the Earliest Gospels in Their First Century Settings (WUNT 271), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2011, pp. 323351, p. 338 and SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 30), pp. 502-503. διχοτοµέω appears only in this parable in the NT and is used only once in the LXX (Exod 29,17). A similar image using different verbs is found in Sus 1,55.59. Whether the master puts the slave µετὰ τῶν ὑποκριτῶν (Matt 24,51) or µετὰ τῶν ἀπίστων (Luke 12,46) does not affect the clear idea that the location is an undesirable one. 42 M. A. BEAVIS, Ancient Slavery as an Interpretive Context for the New Testament Servant Parables with Special Reference to the Unjust Steward (Luke 16:1-8), JBL 111 (1992), pp. 37-54, p. 42 contends that “for ancient audiences the idea of a slave being ‘dismembered’ for misbehavior would not necessarily have been implausible or startling” and provides examples of other sadistic punishments of slaves attested in antiquity as mentioned by K. R. BRADLEY, Slaves and Masters in the Roman Empire: A Study in Social Control (CollLat 185), Brussels: Latomus, Revue d’Études Latines 1984. Nevertheless, the depiction of such brutality highlights the violent judgment that the master could execute and the danger of being on the receiving end of it.

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5. Q 13,24-27 There are significantly greater differences between the Matthean and Lukan presentation of this parable than in the previous parables, not the least of which is the dispersed presentation of it in Matthew. 43 In Q 13,24 the image of a narrow entrance (πύλη Matt 7,13; θύρα Luke 13,24) appears, with Matthew and Luke, in different ways, indicating that only a few will be able to enter through it.44 This image leads into a short narrative in which a “master” is presented. Luke refers to an οἰκοδεσπότης (Luke 13,25) whereas Matthew, placing this scene in a rather different context, presents a νυµφίος (Matt 25,10). At the same time, however, both Matthew and Luke have the other characters in the parable address this figure as κύριε and his actions and words are quite similar. As Artefakt, a simple reference to an οἰκοδεσπότης would likely conjure up a less festive image than a νυµφίος; however, since the Q term is uncertain, it is best not to push the potential mental model of either image too far. On the other hand, it is important that in this parable we have the first instance where the “master” speaks and therefore offers an opportunity for character insight on the basis of words and not simply actions. The presentation then is of a figure addressed as κύριε (regardless of the term previously employed by the narrator in identifying the character) and an ensuing exchange in which this character twice responds to the comments of others, ultimately having the last word in the dialogue. As a fiktives Wesen, though Matthew presents a complex of actions by the νυµφίος, both Matthew and Luke agree in the “master” having locked the door.45 There is no indication of why the door is locked, but for whatever reason, the desire to create a barrier between inside and outside is clear. This image of the locked door itself, as Labahn points out, “führt den Hausherrn als Charakter mit, da er es ist, der die Tür schließt.”46 There is also no precise relating of when the door is locked;47 however, as soon as

43

Cf. the discussion in TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity (see n. 13), pp. 189-193 and the literature cited there. 44 Though Matthew and Luke share the image of an entrance that is στενῆς, the different designations of the entrance itself invoke slightly different contexts and images, cf. F. BOVON, Das Evangelium nach Lukas (EKK III), 4 vols., Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag/Zürich: Benziger Verlag 1989–2009, pp. 2:433. 45 On the shift from a “narrow” to a “locked” entrance, cf. P. HOFFMANN, Πάντες ἐργάται ἀδικίας: Redaktion und Tradition in Lc 13 22-30 , ZNW 58 (1967), pp. 188-214, p. 193. 46 LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (see n. 3), p. 301. 47 D. Jonas draws attention to a certain gap here, noting “Wann und warum er die Tür verschließt, wird nicht erzählt” D. JONAS, Tretet ein! (Von der verschlossenen Tür) – Q

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the request κύριε, ἄνοιξον ἡµῖν is made there is an implicit sense that those arriving after the door has been shut have arrived “too late” to enter.48 The request also reinforces the depiction of the “master” being the one who has the authority to decide when the door is opened and when it is to remain shut. The master’s decision for the latter option is revealed through his rejection of the request with the words οὐκ οἶδα ὑµᾶς.49 The reply to this rejection, again in reported speech, is different in Matt 7,22 and Luke 13,26, but in both instances it is clear that a protest is being offered: “indeed you do know us.” At this point, not only is the original rejection by the master reiterated (though now with slightly different wording in Matt 7,23), it also contains a further element. Those before the door, identified as ἐργαζόµενοι τὴν ἀνοµίαν (Matt 7,23) or ἐργάται ἀδικίας (Luke 13,27), are told to depart. In this way, the depiction of the κύριος is of a “master” who, just like a locked door, cannot be moved.50 At the same time, however, the parable indicates that this exclusion is not arbitrary, at least from the perspective of the κύριος. Those on the outside are not merely unknown, they are lawbreakers or unrighteous.

6. Q 14,16-23 With this parable we arrive at an instance where the Critical Edition of Q rightly refrained from reconstructing numerous of the parable’s verses.51 It is well known that the differences between Matt 22,1-14 and Luke 14,1224 are significant enough that they led Adolf von Harnack, in his early attempt to reconstruct Q, to exclude this parable from his consideration of Q.52 In fact, the recent Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu, even while considering it a Q parable, decided to discuss the parable twice, once in its 13,24-27 (Mt 7,13f.; 7,22f.; 25,10-12/Lk 13,24-27), in: Zimmermann et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu (see n. 6), pp. 193-199, p. 193. 48 Cf. J ONAS, Tretet ein! (see n. 47), p. 196. 49 In Luke the statement continues with πόθεν ἐστέ. 50 Cf. J. V ERHEYDEN, Le jugement d’Israël dans la source Q, in: F. Amsler et al. (eds.), La source des paroles de Jésus (Q): Aux origines du christianisme (MoBi 62), Geneva: Labor et Fides 2008, pp. 191-219, p. 206, who refers to the master as “implacable.” 51 Cf. J. M. ROBINSON/P. HOFFMANN/J. S. K LOPPENBORG (eds.), The Critical Edition of Q: A Synopsis Including the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, Mark and Thomas: With English, German and French Translations of Q and Thomas (Hermeneia Supplements), Leuven: Peeters/Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2000, pp. 432-449. 52 Cf. A. VON H ARNACK, New Testament Studies II: The Sayings of Jesus: The Second Source of St. Matthew and St. Luke, trans. J. R. Wilkinson, New York, N.Y.: G. P. Putnam’s Sons/London: Williams & Norgate 1908, pp. 119-122. For a helpful overview of the differences in chart form cf. HULTGREN, Parables (see n. 30), p. 334.

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Matthean form and once in its Lukan form. Despite the differences and ongoing debates, however, many have seen the parable as a Q parable.53 If it is a Q parable, it must be considered largely along the lines of the overlap in basic plot and underlying structure.54 Both Matthew and Luke set the parable in the context of a reflection upon what the “kingdom of God/heaven” is like. They both refer to an ἄνθρωπος, even if Matthew further describes him as a βασιλεύς.55 The fact that he has at least one slave (Luke 14,17), or even slaves (Matt 22,3), clearly locates this character as some sort of “master” even if Matthew continues to refer to him as a βασιλεύς (Matt 22,7) whereas Luke subsequently calls him both κύριος and οἰκοδεσπότης (Luke 14,21).56 This variation does create some difficulties in considering this character as an Artefakt for when a narrator introduces a βασιλεύς the mental image may differ from the one when an οἰκοδεσπότης is introduced.57 Again, even as a realistic depiction of a Greco-Roman meal unfolds,58 no further, direct aesthetic reflection on this character occurs, even if the unfolding scene implies a certain level of affluence.59 The “master” continues to be described by the narrator in Luke (Luke 14,17), whereas in Matthew the narrator’s description (Matt 22,3) and the king’s words to other servants are recorded (Matt 22,4). Unfortunately, un53

Cf., e.g., the literature cited in H ARNISCH, Gleichniserzählungen (see n. 15), p. 244, n. 197 and in H ULTGREN, Parables (see n. 30), p. 334, n. 6 (though Hultgren himself opts for the view that Matthew and Luke drew the parable from their own special traditions). 54 R. Zimmermann offers a brief discussion of how characteristics and structure can be set even as the wording is not in R. ZIMMERMANN, Memory and Form Criticism: The Typicality of Memory as a Bridge Between Orality and Literality in the Early Christian Remembering Process, in: A. Weissenrieder/R. B. Coote (eds.), The Interface of Orality and Writing: Speaking, Seeing, Writing in the Shaping of New Genres (WUNT 260), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2010, pp. 130-143, pp. 140-143. 55 L. Schottroff observes that with this depiction, Matthew’s naming “ordnet die Parabel in die in der Welt jüdischer Gleichniskultur üblichen Szenarien ein. Es sind hunderte von rabbinischen Königsgleichnissen überliefert, die immer wieder neue Geschichten von Königen, Königssöhnen, Königspalästen usw. variieren” L. S CHOTTROFF, Verheißung für alle Völker (Von der königlichen Hochzeit) – Mt 22,1-4, in: Zimmermann et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu (see n. 6), pp. 479-487, p. 480. 56 The depiction in the parable points towards an elite master, which would allow for an easy transition from “master” to “king” language. 57 The extent to which Q relates an account involving “imperialer Gastmahlpolitik” S CHOTTROFF, Verheißung (see n. 55), p. 481, present in Matthew, is unclear. 58 For extensive treatment, cf. D. E. SMITH, From Symposium to Eucharist: The Banquet in the Early Christian World, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 2003. 59 Harnisch observes: “Über die Position dieses Mannes erfährt man zunächst ebensowenig wie über Herkunft und Stand der Gäste” HARNISCH, Gleichniserzählungen (see n. 15), p. 246. Scott contends, however, that once both a banquet and a servant have been introduced, this “sets the man up as an individual of wealth and power” SCOTT, Hear Then the Parable (see n. 30), p. 169.

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certainty about the Q text does not allow further consideration of this section; though, both Matthew and Luke contain a narrator’s description of the “master” upon a (the) slave(s) return (Matt 22,7; Luke 14,21) before then having the master himself speak (Matt 22,8-9; 14,21.23-24). In sum, it is clear that the “master” is a dominant character through the parable,60 as well as the fact that there are elements of presentation by the narrator, actions, and speech to consider. As a fiktives Wesen, the character is first presented as having prepared some type of banquet or dinner. The ownership of slaves, of whom one or several are sent out to relay a message to the invited guests, further underscores the implied affluence of the “master.”61 A double invitation is assumed, and the recounted invitation functions as a reminder by relaying to the guests that the preparations have been completed and that their attendance is requested.62 Though Matthew and Luke have considerable differences in the wording recounting the exchanges between the slave(s) and the invitees, both relate that for a variety of reasons, the invitation is now rejected.63 This rejection functions as an Emotionsauslöser64 and leads to the “master” being described as “angry” (ὀργίζω).65 That the “master” becomes enraged and its significance for the subsequent action is, at times,

60

D. O. Via observes that this character “gives the story its unity” D. O. V IA, The Relationship of Form to Content in the Parables: The Wedding Feast, Interp. 25 (1971), pp. 171-184, p. 183. 61 Though Luke only mentions one slave, his account can hardly be understood as implying that only one slave was present in the household, cf. L. S CHOTTROFF, Von der Schwierigkeit zu teilen (Das große Abendmahl) – Lk 14,12-24 (EvThom 64), in: Zimmermann et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu (see n. 6), pp. 593-603, p. 597. 62 Cf. SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 30), p. 307 contra J. D. CROSSAN, In Parables: The Challenge of the Historical Jesus, New York, N.Y.: Harper & Row 1973, pp. 72-73. For an overview of several invitations as found in Egyptian papyri, cf. C.-H. K IM , The Papyrus Invitation, JBL 94 (1975), pp. 391-402. 63 Harnisch argues: “Ein gundlegender Mangel der üblichen Exegese liegt m.E. darin, daß sie auf das bloße Daß der Absagen abhebt und von den konkreten Beweggründen in der Regel abstrahiert” HARNISCH, Gleichniserzählungen (see n. 15), p. 253. His own interpretation, therefore, uses the excuses as its springboard. The difficulty, however, is that though Harnisch has offered his view of what the source for the parable’s form in Matthew, Luke, and Thomas read, cf. ibid., pp. 243-244, the details are far from certain. I would contend that the working with anything other than the “bloße Daß der Absagen” in Q is to construct an interpretation on a far too uncertain foundation. Cf. also V ERHEYDEN, Le jugement d’Israël (see n. 50), p. 203. 64 Cf. the chart in A. INSELMANN, Die Freude im Lukasevangelium: Ein Beitrag zur psychologischen Exegese (WUNT II, 322), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2012, p. 45. 65 Clearly, from his perspective the excuses for not coming, whatever they entailed, were not valid.

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mentioned;66 however, I am unaware of any discussion of its significance for the characterization of the “master.” This is the first, and only, instance in any of the here considered parables in which the emotion of the “master” character is directly presented instead of implied through action.67 The overt statement of the presence of this anger dramatically affects the development of this character. Most notably, all subsequent directives and actions would occur within a mental model of an angry character and thus be viewed as arising out of this anger.68 This perception is upheld in both Matthew and Luke, despite their differences in what actually ensues.69 The response of the master is to issue new invitations so that those who have rejected the invitation can be replaced at the banquet. Here Scott rightly notes, “From a formal perspective, all three performances [Matthew, Luke, Thomas] agree that the new guests are from the outcast, the lower classes.”70 Presumably the “positive note of the parable” to which Hultgren refers is this inclusion of outcasts; however, how positive is that inclusion when the depicted “master” is either looking around for 66

Cf., e.g., SCHOTTROFF, Von der Schwierigkeit zu teilen (see n. 61), p. 595. Note that this direct characterization of the “master’s” anger is not found in Gos. Thom. 64,10-11. 68 On the “forcing” of outcasts to come in the Lukan account, cf. SCHOTTROFF, Von der Schwierigkeit zu teilen (see n. 61), p. 597. J. P. HEIL, The Meal Scenes in Luke–Acts: An Audience-Oriented Approach (SBL.MS 52), Atlanta, Ga.: SBL Press 1999, p. 109, argues that the master institutes a “social conversion” through his turning to non-elites, a position which Schottroff rightly criticizes, cf. SCHOTTROFF, Von der Schwierigkeit zu teilen (see n. 61), p. 600. For this reason, it is not clear that Via is correct in his assessment, “Luke, then, represents structurally the exclusion of the excuse makers as dominant, but in content he emphasizes the gracious inclusion of the poor” VIA, The Relationship of Form to Content (see n. 60), pp. 177-178. Though those included are clearly those for whom Luke indicates a special concern (cf. Luke 7,22; 14,12-14), is it really the case that one can move so quickly from an “angry inclusion” to a “gracious inclusion”? As Schottroff puts it, “es leuchtet nicht ein, dass sein Interesse, den Saal zu füllen und die Erstgeladenen auszuschließen, die Erfüllung der Mahnung Jesu, die Armen einzuladen ist” L. S CHOTTROFF, Die Gleichnisse Jesu, 2nd ed., Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus 2007, p. 71. 69 Matthew’s king sends out his troops to destroy those who murdered his servants and to burn their city (22,7), indiscriminately fills his house with “good and bad” (22,10), and then, patrolling the crowd, tosses an inappropriately clothed guest out into the outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth (22,11-13). Luke’s master sends out the servant to bring in replacement guests, but those who come do not fill the house (14,21-22). The master therefore sends his servant a second time in order to “force” (ἀναγκάζω) more to come (14,23), apparently to ensure that there is no room for any of the originally invited guests (14,24). 70 SCOTT, Hear Then the Parable (see n. 30), p. 168. The first guests presumably would have been from the upper classes leading Harnisch to observe that the invited and the replacement guests are an “antithetisches Zwillingspaar” HARNISCH, Gleichniserzählungen (see n. 15), p. 32. 67

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someone to cast back out (Matthew) or seems to be satisfied with a “forced” full house, not because of those who are there, but because of those who are not (Luke)? At the very least there is a strong undercurrent of ambiguity when the parable is viewed from the perspective of its “master” character.71

7. Q 16,13 In this brief parable, Matthew and Luke once again present an essentially verbatim text. The mention of a κύριος here, however, is slightly different from every other occurrence of this character. As an Artefakt the “master” is introduced as a figure in a wisdom saying, which negates the possibility of serving δυσὶ κυρίοις.72 The narrator thus does not introduce a specific character, but rather the abstract concept of a character. As the parable continues, this character remains in the background as either hated/loved or devoted to/despised. It is worth noting that the placement of the negatives at the beginning and conclusion of the two antitheses, it is this element that receives the greater emphasis.73 The abstraction, however, becomes concrete at the parable’s conclusion with the narrator mentioning two possible masters: θεός and µαµωνᾶς.74 As a fiktives Wesen the initial, abstract κύριος is simply a concept that the reader of the parable fills with meaning. The use of the plural indicates the reality of the existence of multiple κύριοι, even as the possibility of serving more than one is excluded. The most natural immediate thought 71

As Schottroff remarks, the parable seems to portray “die Geschichte eines beleidigten Gastgebers, der sich Ersatzgäste einlädt, um die Erstgeladenen zu ärgern und öffentlich zu diskriminieren” SCHOTTROFF, Von der Schwierigkeit zu teilen (see n. 61), p. 600. 72 Kloppenborg refers to Q 16,13 as “clearly a wisdom sentence” J. S. KLOPPENBORG V ERBIN, Excavating Q: The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel, Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press/Edinburgh: T & T Clark 2000, p. 381. 73 So also M. LABAHN, Über die Notwendigkeit ungeteilter Leidenschaft (Vom Doppeldienst) – Q 16,13 (Mt 6,24/Lk 16,13/EvThom 47,1f.), in: Zimmermann et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu (see n. 6), pp. 220-226, p. 220. 74 The parable here takes a decided theological turn in that it does not simply offer a “clear-cut ‘either-or’ stance” but also because “God is set over against ‘another master’. It is not simply a contrast of ‘God versus possessions’; it is undivided devotion to God in contrast to undivided devotion to another”, R. A. P IPER, Jesus and the Conflict of Powers in Q: Two Q Miracle Stories, in: A. Lindemann (ed.), The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus (BEThL 158), Leuven: Leuven University Press/Peeters 2001, pp. 317349, p. 345. Cf. also H. D. BETZ, The Sermon on the Mount: A commentary on the Sermon, including the Sermon on the Plain (Matthew 5:3-7:27 and Luke 6:20-49) (Hermeneia), Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 1995, pp. 454-455.

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would be of an individual who is a “master” over others, in other words, a slave-owner. Indeed, the idea of “serving” the κύριος brings another character into the image.75 Here, however, the κύριος does not himself act, actions are only taken towards him – even if there is no elucidation of what actions constitute “hating” or “loving.” In this way the character is clearly present, but static. At the conclusion of the parable, the narrator shifts the identification of the κύριος out of the realm of the abstract through a direct address to the reader/hearer of the parable.

8. Q 19,12-13.15-24.26 In this final parable, we find another instance where there are considerable differences between Matthew and Luke;76 nevertheless, once again numerous scholars have seen sufficient reason to assign the parable to Q.77 At the outset of the parable, both Matthew and Luke begin with the reference to an ἄνθρωπος (Matt 25,14; Luke 19,12), though Luke further qualifies τις εὐγενής, which is further developed through the Lukan version’s royal imagery in the parable. The immediately ensuing reference to this person having δοῦλοι carries him into the perceived realm of a “master.”78 As an Artefakt, even though the character is, once again, introduced by the narrator, Christian Münch rightly makes his first observation in his discussion of this parable that it is one “in der viel geredet wird” and that dialogue constitutes much of the account.79 Luke begins the dialogue earlier in that he has the master relay his instructions to his servants with direct speech, whereas Matthew only reports an entrusting of property on the part of the master. Both Matthew and Luke, however, once the master returns to the 75

Labahn notes, “im Verb [δουλεύω] steckt … der Gegenbegriff zum Herrn: der Diener bzw. Sklave” LABAHN, Über die Notwendigkeit (see n. 73), p. 220. 76 For this reason Harnack also excluded this parable from his consideration of Q H ARNACK, Sayings of Jesus (see n. 52), pp. 122-126. For a list of differences between the two versions, cf. HULTGREN, Parables (see n. 30), pp. 272-273, who himself also concludes that the two versions have come from special Matthean and Lukan traditions rather than from Q. 77 For a helpful outline of the parable’s shared “Grundgerüst” cf. W. BINDEMANN, Harter Herr oder gnädiger Gott? Zur Auslegung des Gleichnisses vom anvertrauten Geld (Mt 25,14-30 par. Lk 19,12-27), in: K.-M. Bull/E. Reinmuth (eds.), Bekenntnis und Erinnerung: FS H.-F. Weiss (Rostocker theologische Studien 16), Berlin: Lit Verlag 2004, pp. 129-150, p. 130. 78 Matthew makes reference to three slaves (25,15) whereas Luke recounts that there were ten (19,13). 79 C. MÜNCH, Gewinnen oder Verlieren (Von den anvertrauten Geldern) – Q 19,12f. 15-24.26 (Mk 13,34/Mt 25,14-30/Lk 19,12-27), in: Zimmermann et al. (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu (see n. 6), pp. 240-254, p. 240.

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scene,80 have the master engage in a series of conversations with his slaves. Here the slaves address the master as κύριε. From this point on, the characterization of the master continues through speech. In his dialogue with the final slave, the master’s character becomes more complex through the negative depiction of this man by the slave. Interestingly, after the final slave speaks, though the wording is not identical, both Matthew and Luke recount words spoken by the master from here to the conclusion of the parable, even if Luke also includes one interjection along the way (19,25). In this way, more than in any of the other here considered parables, the master is characterized through dialogue. As a fiktives Wesen the “master” image, as mentioned above, is introduced through his slaves to whom property is entrusted. Both Matthew and Luke, though again in different ways, relate the departure of the “master.”81 At this point, the focus of the parable shifts to the slaves and their actions while the master is away.82 Despite some differences in the Matthean and Lukan accounts, the reader/hearer of the parable is informed that some used that which the master had given them to earn more, whereas one did not. The master returns and desires some type of accounting from the slaves (συναίρει λόγον µετ᾽ αὐτῶν Matt 25,19; τί διεπραγµατεύσαντο Luke 19,15). An ROI (return on investment) is clearly important for him.83 As the servants present their accounting, again with differences in Matthean and Lukan, it is clear that with the first two the master is pleased and that he considers these slaves ἀγαθός.84 Furthermore, he gives 80

Here Matt 25,19 specifically refers to the character as ὁ κύριος τῶν δούλων. Matthew simply states καὶ ἀπεδήµησεν (25,15) and Luke relates the departure of the nobleman to receive a kingdom and then to return (19,12). 82 The dynamic of the Lukan version is somewhat different from Matthew’s due to Luke 19,14. In this verse, not only is the kingship imagery in Luke expanded, but the hearer is told that the man is “hated” and that his citizens reject his rule. These enemies are later slaughtered in the Lukan account (19,27). Furthermore, in this parable the master is absent, but unlike in several other parables, he is not delayed. 83 MÜNCH, Gewinnen oder Verlieren (see n. 79), p. 242 refers to the words and final actions as being based on a “Logik des Gewinns.” It is worth noting that this likely is what the master commissioned the slaves to do in the first place (clearly stated in Luke 19,13 and seemingly implied in Matt 25,14-15; so also C. HEIL, Was erzählt die Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld, pp. 347-348 [in this volume] ). 84 Matthew explicitly mentions an emotion with the master’s statement that the slave should enter his “joy” (Matt 25,21.23). It is perhaps worth noting that though the returns stated by Matthew, and particularly by Luke, are massive and likely exaggerated, cf. R. L. ROHRBAUGH, A Peasant Reading of the Parables of the Talents/Pounds: A Text of Terror? BTB 23 (1993), pp. 32-39, p. 35, in neither account does the master give any indication of the amount of return he expected. Thus, though J. S. KLOPPENBORG , Jesus and the Parables of Jesus in Q, in: R. A. Piper (ed.), The Gospel Behind the Gospels: Current Studies on Q (NT.S 75), Leiden: E. J. Brill 1995, pp. 275-319, p. 299, may be correct in referring to “a rapacious landowner” it is problematic to refer to “the 81

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these slaves a reward.85 When the third slave speaks, however, the scene takes a dramatic turn. Though the response of this servant and how to understand it is often discussed and fascinating in its own right,86 the present interest lies in what he relates about the “master.” This slave presents an unflattering picture of the master, to say the least, and indicates his “fear” of his κύριος.87 It is worth noting that regardless of whether the servant’s words are an accurate description of the character of the master or not, and regardless of whether the master’s response confirms the characterization or is an ironic parody of the servant’s words,88 it is clear that in either case, the servant was right to fear the master’s displeasure. The judgment of this slave, seen as πονηρός, is swift and severe. Scott argues that against the backdrop of a patron-client relationship, “the one-talent man’s rejection angers an audience because he has fulfilled his part of the bargain: the master lost nothing, and therefore the servant deserves protection”;89 yet, the overt (Luke 19,13) or apparently implied task (Matt 25,14-15) was not to avoid a loss, but to secure a gain. At the same time, Scott is correct in picking up on the fact that the characterization of the master has taken an uncomfortable turn.90 practically unattainable demands he makes of his retainers.” As A. PUIG I TÀRRECH, La parabole des talents (Mt 25, 14-30) ou des mines (Lc 19,11-28), in: François Refoulé (ed.), À cause de l’Évangile: Études sur les Évangiles synoptiques et les Actes offertes au P. Jacques Dupont: FS J. Dupont (LeDiv 123), Paris: Éditions du Cerf 1985, pp. 165-193, p. 182 correctly noted “selon le maître, il faut absolument avoir obtenu un bénéfice,” but it is “peu importe” if this is a massive return based on speculative investment or the minimal interest earned in a bank. 85 Snodgrass states, “The idea of being placed over all the master’s possessions (Matt 24:47/Luke 12:44) is mirrored in Matt 25:21, 23/Luke 19:17-19 where servants are placed over many things or cities” SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 30), p. 497. 86 Cf. J.-N. ALETTI, Parabole des mines et/ou parabole du roi: Lc 19, 11-28: Remarques sur l’écriture parabolique de Luc, in: J. Delorme (ed.), Les paraboles évangéliques: Perspectives nouvelles: XIIe congrès de l’ACFEB, Lyon (1987) (LeDiv 135), Paris: Éditions du Cerf 1989, pp. 309-332, p. 316. J. D. M. Derrett comments, “The sauciness of the speech is fascinating” J. D. M. DERRETT, Law in the New Testament, London: Darton, Longman & Todd 1970, p. 26. 87 Matthew and Luke do not present the master with precisely the same terms; however, it both instances it is clear that the depiction is negative. 88 Cf., e.g., C. KÄHLER, Jesu Gleichnisse als Poesie und Therapie: Versuch eines integrativen Zugangs zum kommunikativen Aspekt von Gleichnissen Jesu (WUNT 78), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 1995, p. 173 for the former, and HARNISCH , Gleichniserzählungen (see n. 15), p. 39, for the latter. 89 SCOTT, Hear Then the Parable (see n. 30), p. 206. 90 If the entrusting of the possessions in Matt 25,14 is viewed as not containing any responsibility to do anything with those belongings (over than preserve them), then the image may become more than simply “uncomfortable.” K. ERLEMANN, Das Bild Gottes in den synoptischen Gleichnissen (BWANT 126), Stuttgart: Kohlhammer 1988, p. 208

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9. “Master” as Symbol and Symptom At this point, having considered the “master” character in the relevant Q parables as Artefakt and fiktives Wesen, a few thoughts concerning these characters as Symbol and Symptom can be offered. Of course, there are many possible questions that could be posed and numerous connections that could be made. Here, I would like to make only a few general observations, each of which I intend to examine further in my larger, forthcoming work on the Q parables. In a note buried on page 751 of his massive tome on parables, Snodgrass makes the important observation: “With religious language the literal and metaphorical planes are often intermingled.”91 It is on this metaphorical plane that further aspects of the above-discussed characters become relevant. First, it is quite clear that the master/servant metaphor has a long, biblical tradition of depicting Israel, or humanity, before God. 92 This image of God as a “master” appears to have been embraced by Q as well, and not only when brought into contact with slaves. Also significant, is that “master” terminology is not reserved for God alone, but is also applied to Jesus. For example, both God and Jesus are called κύριος in Q. Marco Frenschkowski has argued that Q 6,46 should be understood as an acclamation of Jesus stemming from “a royal – which means messianic – interpretation of Jesus,” reflecting a “messianic kyrios-christology.”93 If this is correct, then Q’s audience has already heard the κύριος Jesus identification in at least somewhat exalted terms. At the same time, regardless of whether this understanding is followed or not,94 both God (Q 4,12.8) and Jesus (Q 6,46; 7,6; 9,59) have already been identified as κύριος before the first appearance of the term in a Q parable (10,2). In that parable, there is widespread consensus that “kyrios is God.”95 Interestingly, however, the very act assumed to be the act that God must perform in 10,2 (sending) is precisely the act that Jesus then performs in 10,3. A “functional equivalence” between God and Jesus thus becomes prominent and serves to states “Unverkennbar liegt in diesem Bild Gottes ein Zug der Ungerechtigkeit: Der Kommende fordert etwas, was zu Beginn nicht ausdrücklich verlangt wurde.” 91 SNODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 30), p. 751, n. 97. 92 Cf. MÜNCH, Gewinnen oder Verlieren (see n. 79), p. 245; IDEM, Die Gleichnisse Jesu im Matthäusevangelium (see n. 24), p. 202; and A. WEISER, Die Knechtsgleichnisse der Synoptischen Evangelien (StAnt 29), München: Kösel 1971, pp. 22-27. 93 FRENSCHKOWSKI, Kyrios in Context (see n. 20), pp. 111, 112. 94 Cf. P. FOSTER, The Pastoral Purpose of Q’s Two-Stage Son of Man Christology, Bib. 89 (2008), pp. 81-91, p. 82 for a different assessment of the significance of Q 6,46. 95 FRENSCHKOWSKI, Kyrios in Context (see n. 20), p. 103. On the manner in which the parable presses towards this identification cf. ROTH, Missionary Ethics (see n. 17), pp. 23 and ZIMMERMANN, Folgenreiche Bitte! (see n. 20), p. 112.

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underscore the “Jesus and God” element of the term κύριος.96 Thus, though it is disputed whether κύριος is a term of particular christological significance in Q,97 it is clearly a term through which Jesus and God are brought into close contact. For this reason, it is an at least somewhat ambiguous term in the parables when the question is asked as to whether its referent is God or Jesus. That this question would arise on the metaphorical level of the “master” parables seems unavoidable.98 Second, however, the “masters” are curious characters in Q. In Q 10,2 a “master” must be petitioned to send workers. It is possible that this incongruence may lead the hearer to begin to follow a metaphoric transfer, as noted above; yet, some curiosity concerning this figure remains. In Q 16,13, the image is simple enough and the connection to the issue of God or a rival κύριος is clear. Frenschkowski observes that this is “The main instance that gives some color to what the metonym kyrios for God and Jesus is all about … The social reality of slave-ownership still strictly defines the meaning of kyrios, but there is also an undercurrent of absolute loyalty that cannot easily be explained from that context alone.”99 At the same time, the negative imagery is highlighted – the “hating” or the “despising.” Could it be that a deep concern with the perceived slighting of God, the “master,” lies in the background? This question becomes more acute when one considers how often the “master” in Q parables is associated with violence, loss, or anger. On the one hand, in Q 12,39, we find, as Paul Foster puts it, a “striking metaphor” where “the Son of Man is compared to a burglar whose unannounced arrival demands concentrated watchfulness.”100 Michael Labahn contends 96

Cf. KLOPPENBORG VERBIN, Excavating Q (see n. 72), p. 393. D. R. Catchpole states “God’s sending is involved in his [Jesus’] sending” D. R. CATCHPOLE, The Quest for Q, Edinburgh: T & T Clark 1993, p. 161. Labahn observes that the use of the term κύριος for both God and Jesus they are brought “in ein enges Verhältnis” even if it does not result in an “Identifikation beider Größen” LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (see n. 3), pp. 295, 296. Cf. also J. SCHLOSSER, Q et la christologie implicite, in: Lindemann (ed.), The Sayings Source Q (see n. 74), pp. 289-316, p. 304. 97 Cf. the essentially diametrically opposed statements by CATCHPOLE, Quest (see n. 93), p. 161 where he identifies κύριος as “the dominant christological category of Q” and TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity (see n. 13), p. 218 who states that “kyrios for Q does not appear to be a term of great christological significance.” 98 Though Tuckett recognizes that aspects of the parabolic stories are “seen by Q as Christologically significant” he sees it as likely “that the κύριος references in the parables are simply parts of the stories” TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity (see n. 13), p. 218. I am not sure, however, that in the minds of the hearers the κύριος can simply remain a “part of the story.” 99 FRENSCHKOWSKI, Kyrios in Context (see n. 20), p. 106. 100 FOSTER, The Pastoral Purpose (see n. 94), p. 89. Even if 12,39 is considered apart from the connection with the Son of Man in v. 40 and is instead considered in relation to

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that “V. 40 ist nicht am Erfolg des Diebes interessiert, sondern an der Bereitschaft, ihn jederzeit abzuwehren”101 and observes, “Den Einbruch des Diebes will man vermeiden, das Kommen des Menschensohnes – hier wird die Brüchigkeit zwischen Parabel und Anwendung wieder deutlich – nicht, im Gegenteil.”102 On the image level, however, it is more than simply the issue that the coming of the Son of Man is desired by the community and that the coming of a thief is not. From the perspective of the householder, the state of being robbed is clearly position negative; however, the state of being “not-robbed” is not position positive but rather position neutral. In other words, on the one hand, being robbed results in a loss; on the other hand, not being robbed does not result in a gain but simply in the averting of a loss. The image here then functions simply as a negative deterrent for the οἰκοδεσπότης: be prepared for the thief so as to avoid destruction and loss of property. In relation to the Son of Man, this image would seem to translate as: be prepared so as not to be destroyed when he comes. The destruction seems to connect the two images. On the other hand, there are a series of parables in which the “master” is not the one affected by the coming Son of Man, but rather causes an effect, and indeed a highly unpleasant one. When such disturbing images seem to represent an image of Jesus (or God), there is reason for pause. In Q 12,4246, there is the mention of a reward, but the image of the severed servant is what grabs the hearers attention.103 In Q 13,24-27, Dirk Jonas presents a possible reading of the parable that he terms an “einladene-relationale Deutung” in which the parable is understood as a “verheißungsvolle Warnung” implying the exhortation: come in!104 At the same time, however, he also recognizes that the actual imagery of the parable is negative. In other words, a possible previous invitation only arises via the present “I never knew you” and the image of being locked out. Again, the “master” is asthe Kingdom of God, as is done, e.g., by T. SCHRAMM/K. LÖWENSTEIN, Unmoralische Helden: Anstößige Gleichnisse Jesu, Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht 1986, p. 52, they nevertheless rightly note that the comparison of God’s reign with a thief remains “ein höchst anstößiges Bild” ibid., p. 52. 101 LABAHN, Achtung Menschensohn! (see n. 24), p. 155. 102 LABAHN, Achtung Menschensohn! (see n. 24), p. 155. 103 Even if the arguments of W EISER, Knechtsgleichnisse (see n. 89), p. 183 that Jesus gave no content to the master and servants in this parable were found to be convincing, the question is actually irrelevant. The reader will necessarily fill these characters with some type of content, including metaphorical content. In the context of Q, the connection of this parable to 12,40 almost makes it inevitable that the master here will be associated with ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου. Cf. H. T. FLEDDERMANN, Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (Biblical Tools and Studies 1), Leuven: Peters 2005, pp. 634-635 and B. H. G REGG, The Historical Jesus and the Final Judgment Sayings in Q (WUNT II, 207), Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck 2006, pp. 216-217. 104 JONAS, Tretet ein! (see n. 47), p. 196.

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sociated with negative consequences for those who, for whatever reason, have not interacted with him on his terms.105 In Q 14 and Q 19, the anger of the master seems almost to break through the bounds of the parable. By the time we arrive at these parables, Münch’s statement that the master is “eine unsympathische oder zumindest fragwürdige Figur” is rather selfevident.106 Though Luise Schottroff’s personal discomfort with the institution of slavery in antiquity and with the violent imagery of parables involving masters and slaves is understandable,107 it is doubtful that the attempt to avoid any connection of the “master” image to God can succeed on the mental model level.108 For example, is it really possible to limit the eschatological meaning of Luke 12,35-48 and the imagery of being God’s slave to the comments in vv. 35.40.48b and to exclude any association of God with the violent and punishing master?109 All the imagery, including that of judgment, invites and will evoke intratextual connections of characters outside the parables with characters inside the parables, even if we, in the twenty-first century, find such connections problematic.110 In fact, it may 105 The “conclusion” of the parable in Q 13,29.28 continues the presentation of the negative consequences for those who have not entered, cf. S. GUIJARRO, Cultural Memory and Group Identity in Q, BTB 37 (2007), pp. 90-100, pp. 94-95 and TUCKETT, Q and the History of Early Christianity (see n. 13), pp. 193-194. 106 MÜNCH, Gewinnen oder Verlieren (see n. 79), p. 243. 107 Cf. the discussion in SCHOTTROFF, Gleichnisse (see n. 68), pp. 225-235. G LANCY, Slaves and Slavery (see n. 36), p. 89 rightly observes, in reference to Matt 25,14-30, how “modern sensibilities are likely to shrink from an endorsement of the master’s grasping and punitive nature.” 108 Contra I. P ARK, Children and Slaves: The Metaphors in Q, pp. 86-87 (in this volume). Though BINDEMANN, Harter Herr oder gnädiger Gott? (see n. 77), p. 134 clearly identifies the master with God in the parable underlying Matt 25,14-30 and Luke 19,1227, he offers a problematic contention: “Dies Bild des strengen Herrn ist transparent für ein Gottesverständnis, das Gottes Willen mit der Tora identifiziert und deren minutiöse Erfüllung fordert. Die Parabel spielt auf ein Mißverstehen Gottes durch die pharisäischen Gegner Jesu an.” Such a reading seems to import, rather arbitrarily, Torah and lawkeeping, with a supposed theological distortion of God on account of these, into the parable. 109 Cf. SCHOTTROFF, Gleichnisse (see n. 68), pp. 232-233. 110 Thus, for example, it may of course be possible to read Luke 14,16-23 in the following manner: “Der beleidigte Hausherr praktiziert das Armenrecht der Tora nur halbherzig. Das Gleichnis kritisiert ihn und seinesgleichen” SCHOTTROFF, Gleichnisse (see n. 68), p. 77. One could also contend that Matthew, who has much more violent imagery in his parallel, must be understood in an anti-imperial context so that the parable “sich kaum anders als ein antithetisches Gleichnis lesen [lässt], dass Gott und diesen König scharf einander kontrastiert” SCHOTTROFF, Verheißung (see n. 55), p. 483. The difficulty arises in cutting off the metaphorical development beyond such readings, a development that the broader context of the Gospels or Q makes almost impossible to avoid. Thus S NODGRASS, Stories with Intent (see n. 30), p. 315, commenting on the

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very well be the disturbing, even terrorizing, elements of the parables discussed here that contribute in a vital way to their function in Q. Thus, as a Symptom, it is interesting to consider why the “master,” particularly when connected with the God/Jesus confluence, is presented in such images. Though it is clear that the analogy to God or Jesus is deeply disturbing, perhaps it is precisely the analogy the Q “community” desired. Münch seems to be heading in the right direction in his comments on Q 19: “Die Q-Gemeinde befindet sich vermutlich in einem Prozess der Identitätsfindung, der sich in einer scharfen Polemik gegen jenes jüdische Umfeld äußert, das sich nicht zu Jesus und seiner Botschaft bekennt (vgl. Q 11,1452 u.a.).”111 Anger and incredulity at Israel’s rejection of Q’s message can be found in Q 7,31-35; 10,13-15; 11,49-51; and 13,34-35. Of course, such imagery is not the only imagery in Q; nevertheless, when the kingdom, the coming of the Son of Man, and the response to a certain presentation of Jesus is described, the intense frustration of the Q “community” is often just below the surface, if not breaking through. At the same time, though some of this sentiment is directed towards outsiders, in other instances it appears to be directed inwardly, towards members of the Q “community” (e.g., Q 12,42-46 and 13,25-27).112 Perhaps it is through the “master” character that the frustration of rejection, found both outside of and within the community, surfaces and the character has therefore been remembered in, to us, an often unsavory way, but to a frustrated and angry community precisely in the way that gave some expression to that anger.113 The Lukan version, observes: “The expectation of an eschatological banquet, the context, and the focus on all being ready require that the meal is understood as the end-time celebration, and surely the first thought is that the host of that meal is either God or the Messiah.” Cf. also W. CARTER , Resisting and Imitating the Empire: Imperial Paradigms in Two Matthean Parables, Interp. 56 (2002), pp. 269-271, LABAHN, Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender (see n. 3), p. 302; and, more generally, GLANCY, Slaves and Slavery (see n. 36), p. 82. Cf. also the comments of C. HEIL, Was erzählt die Parabel vom anvertrauten Geld, pp. 365-369 (in this volume). 111 MÜNCH, Gewinnen oder Verlieren (see n. 79), p. 249. Cf. also J. S. KLOPPENBORG, The Formation of Q: Trajectories in Ancient Wisdom Collections (Studies in Antiquity and Christianity), Philadelphia, Pa.: Fortress Press 1987, pp. 167-168 on the manner in which judgment sayings and the conflict with outsiders serves a constructive purpose for the Q community. 112 In the first instance, the action of the master is taken against a slave who is in the household and in the second instance, against individuals who claim to have a connection to the master. Harsh judgment directed inwardly is also found, e.g., in the Qumran sectarian documents (cf., e.g., 1QS 2). 113 Thus, though the depiction of the “master” at numerous points can rightly be considered as part of the “Irritation” of the parables, cf. SCHRAMM/LÖWENSTEIN, Unmoralische Helden (see n. 100), p. 154, it can also be seen as expressing the irritation of the community in which the parables were transmitted.

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location of several of these “master” parables within the context in Q of discussions concerning “the day of judgment” places the rhetoric firmly within the schema of vindication for the community and judgment of the outsiders or backsliders,114 an “us/them” mentality that may have fueled at least some elements of these parables.

10. Conclusion The above consideration of “master” as character in the Q parables revealed the manner in which such a figure appears in a variety of different ways in Q. Considering the character under the rubrics of Artefakt, fiktives Wesen, Symbol, and Symptom allows for insights from several vantage points into the fascinating, but also disturbing, “masters” in Q. At the same time, this study also highlighted the manner in which a character analysis can be undertaken without depending on any particular Q reconstruction. Though the narrative world of Q is both reflected and refracted through Matthew and Luke, it can be seen, considered, and studied even without the precise wording of Q. As such, this brief contribution seeks to demonstrate, not only how the study of a Q character can be pursued apart from a word-level reconstruction of Q, but also to encourage further study of narratival, as well as metaphorical, elements of Q along such “nontraditional” lines.

114

Cf. also K LOPPENBORG , Sayings Gospel Q (see n. 35), p. 300.

Contributors Robert A. Derrenbacker, Jr. President and Associate Professor, Thorneloe University Detlev Dormeyer Emeritierter Professor für Neues Testament, Fakultät für Humanwissenschaften und Theologie, Technische Universität Dortmund Harry T. Fleddermann Professor Emeritus, Alverno College Paul Foster Senior Lecturer in New Testament Language, Literature and Theology, School of Divinity, University of Edinburgh Marco Frenschkowski Professor für Neues Testament, Theologische Fakultät, Universität Leipzig Christoph Heil Professor für neutestamentliche Bibelwissenschaft, Katholisch-Theologische Fakultät, Universität Graz John S. Kloppenborg Professor and Chair, Department for the Study of Religion, University of Toronto Michael Labahn Privatdozent für Neues Testament an der Martin-Luther-Universität Halle-Wittenberg, External Research Collaborater of North-West University (South Africa) InHee Park Lecturer in New Testament, Ewha Womans University (Seoul, Korea) Sarah E. Rollens Ph.D. Candidate, University of Toronto Dieter T. Roth Wissenschaftlicher Mitarbeiter/Post-Doctoral Fellow, Evangelisch-Theologische Fakultät, Johannes Gutenberg-Universität Mainz

398

Contributors

Daniel A. Smith Associate Professor of New Testament Language and Literature and Clark and Mary Wright Chair of New Testament Theology, Huron University College (London, Canada) Markus Tiwald Professor für Biblische Theologie und ihre Didaktik/Schwerpunkt Neues Testament, Katholisch-Theologisches Institut, Universität Duisburg-Essen Christopher Tuckett Professor of New Testament Studies, University of Oxford Erin K. Vearncombe Ph.D. Candidate, University of Toronto Ruben Zimmermann Professor für Neues Testament, Evangelisch-Theologische Fakultät, Johannes GutenbergUniversität Mainz

Index of Ancient Sources Abbreviations follow the SBL Handbook of Style for Ancient Near Eastern, Biblical, and Early Christians Studies (ed. P. H. Alexander, J. F. Kutsko, J. D. Ernest, S. DeckerLucke, D. L. Petersen, Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1999)

Old Testament Genesis 4,1 12,1-3 15,1-3 19 24 37,5-11 39,1-37

158 89 89 25 81 89 81

Exodus 13,8 13,14 21,20 21,26f. 21,34 22,1(LXX) 22,24 23,20 32,13

89 89 81 81 376 298 361 225 81

Leviticus 25,36f.

361

Numbers 6,24-26

89

Deuteronomy 4,9 6,13 6,16 8,3 10,16

89 223 223 223 87

10,20 23,15f. 23,20f. 24,10-13 24,17 28 32,5 32,20

223 81 361 100 100 130 133 133

Judges 19,23

376

Ruth 1,8 1,16f.

158 158

1 Samuel 3,4-18 3,9

89 81

1 Kings 10,1 10,4 10,10 10,13 16,24

231 231 231 231 376

2 Kings 4,29 5,2f. 5,13 14,25

228 81 81 234

400

Index of Ancient Sources

1 Chronicles 9,1 9,3 9,9 9,12

231 231 231 231

2 Chronicles 6,15 6,19 24,17-25

81 81 232

Job 1,6-2,10 24,16 24,36

201 298 298

Psalms 23 37,29 91,11f. 103,27(LXX) 118 118,26 127 128

14 241 223 83 46, 116 184, 186 89 89

Isaiah 14,12-15 18,5 19,4 23 26,19 27,12 29,18f. 29,18 35,5f. 40,3 42,7 42,18 43,5 48,4 49,22 54,7 56,8

225 375 86 24, 201 172, 204 375 172 204 172, 204 118 172, 204 172, 204 183 86 183 183 183

61,1f. 61,1

201 172, 204

Jeremiah 4,4 23,3 29,14 31,10 31,34 32,37

87 183 183 183 158 183

Ezekiel 11,17 13,10 20,34 20,41 26-29

183 120 183 183 24

Daniel 4,21(Th.) 8,9f. 11,36

223 225 225

Hosea 2,19f. 6,6

157f. 157

Joel 4,13

375

Micah 4,12 7,6

375 64

Habakkuk 1,5

120

Zechariah 1,1 8,5

233 89

Malachi 3,1

225

Jewish Literature (including OT Apocrypha) 2 Baruch 70,2

375

Damascus Document (CD) I,18 119

401

Index of Ancient Sources IV,15-19 V,6 VI,11-19 VIII,12f.

117 117 117 119f.

1 Enoch 42,2 46 91,11-17 91,11 92-105 92,1-5 92,1 93,1-10 93,9f. 93,9 93,10 93,11-105,2 94,2 94,7 94,8 94,9 94,11 95,3 95,5 95,6 95,7 96,3 96,4 96,5 96,8 97,7-10 97,7-9 98,1-3 98,3 98,6-8 98,6 98,9 98,11 98,12 98,13 98,14f. 99,2 99,6-9 99,6 99,10 99,14 99,15 100,1-3 100,7

91 225 133, 135 132, 136 80 125 126 133 133, 135 133f. 134, 136 125 128 127, 129 127 132 132 130 129 131 130 130 128 127 130 50 127 132 128, 132 132 132 128 131 132 132 128 129 132 132 128 129 130 132 130

100,8 100,9 102,2 102,4 103,5f. 103,10f. 104,2 104,6 104,10-13 104,10 108,8 4 Ezra 4,28-32 14,44-46 Gen. Rab. 27,3 46,10

131 132 126, 128 131 128 130 131 131 128 128 127f. 375 136

298 243

Josephus Jewish Antiquities 13,380 119 13,401-423 121 17,41 121 17,299-320 345 20,34 243 20,224-251 236 Jewish War 2,80-100

345

Lives of the Prophets 16 235 m. ’Abot 1

236

m. B. Qam. 8,6

101

m. ’Ohal. 18,7

192

m. Neg. 6,4

298

2 Maccabees 9

225

402 1QpHab II,1-10

Index of Ancient Sources 4Q418 Frg. 69 II,10

135

1QS (Rule of the Community) VIII,3-14 117 VIII,13 118

4Q521 Frg. 2 II 4-13 4QMMT

172 118

4Q169 I,2 I,17 II,2 4Q212 Frg. 1c II,12f.

11QTemple

118

120

119 119 119

Testament of Solomon 19,3 231 21,1 231

135

4Q258

117

4Q259

117

Wisdom 4,18f.

225

New Testament (including the Q Document) Q 3,0-22,30 3,2-11,52 3,2-7,35 3,2-17 3,2f. 3,3 3,7-17 3,7-9 3,7 3,8 3,9 3,16f. 3,16 3,17 3,21f. 3,21 4,1-13 4,1-12 4,1-10 4,1-4 4,1f. 4,1 4,2-13 4,2-4 4,3

197 189, 194 194f. 200 197 23 164, 174 10, 76, 98, 197, 199, 205, 230 8, 10, 88 88f., 159, 200 203 11, 98, 171, 198f., 205 180, 188, 201 78, 200, 203 201, 217 200 59, 171, 180, 196, 204, 217, 223f., 246 193 77 198 202 12, 193, 200f. 151 160f. 88f., 159, 161

4,4 4,5-8 4,8 4,9-12 4,9 4,12 4,13 4,16 6 6,20-7,10 6,20-49 6,20ff. 6,20-23 6,20f. 6,20 6,21 6,22f. 6,23 6,24f. 6,27-36 6,27-28 6,27 6,28 6,29-31 6,29f.

152 198, 203 152, 192, 391 160, 198 23f., 89, 159, 161 192, 391 160, 193 23, 201 172 171 171, 182, 190, 192, 201 78 126, 224 127, 200 77, 90, 174, 181, 193, 204f. 84, 203 131, 232 54, 77, 91, 183, 205 87 99 160 91, 109, 160, 227 227 160 93, 99-105, 109-111, 113

Index of Ancient Sources 6,29 6,30-36 6,30 6,31 6,32-33 6,32 6,34-36 6,34 6,35f. 6,35 6,36-38 6,36 6,37f. 6,38 6,39-45 6,39f. 6,39 6,40f. 6,40 6,41f.

6,41 6,43-49 6,43-45 6,43 6,44 6,45 6,46-49 6,46f. 6,46 6,47-49

6,47f. 6,48f. 7 7,1ff. 7,1-10 7,1-3 7,1 7,3 7,6-9 7,6

99, 104, 228 91 87, 99, 228 99, 109f. 160 205 87 77 90 11, 89, 99, 110, 160, 227 110 89, 109, 160 99, 228 78 270 270 11, 28, 203, 227, 269 28 10, 28, 150, 203, 205, 269f. 11, 27, 29, 69, 203, 227, 257f., 269, 275f., 281 10 364 9f., 28, 50, 87, 203, 227, 269 78 10, 78, 312 28 305 28 159f., 282, 365, 391 11, 28, 129, 203, 256f., 260, 263, 266f., 269, 272f., 275f., 281-283, 289 282 28, 46, 50 170 172, 174, 181 171, 181f., 189-206, 217 160 23, 190, 201 24, 190f., 205 160 192, 205, 391

7,8 7,9 7,10 7,18-23 7,18f. 7,18 7,22f. 7,22

7,23 7,24-35 7,24 7,25 7,26 7,27-35 7,27 7,28 7,29 7,30 7,31-35

7,31 7,32 7,34 7,35 9 9,57-11,52 9,57ff. 9,57-60 9,57f. 9,57 9,58 9,59f. 9,59 9,60 10 10,2-16 10,2

10,3 10,4 10,5-9 10,6

403 174, 198, 200f., 203, 205, 359 165, 181f. 205 171, 224 189, 195, 198, 200 170-172 189, 193, 195, 198, 200, 204 16, 155f., 160, 165, 170, 172-174, 176, 180f., 188, 201 181 189 12, 181 36 193, 205 195 225 88, 98, 190, 193, 204 205 205 10, 27, 89, 128, 203, 256f. 260, 263, 266f., 269, 275f., 281-283, 395 133 88, 91 149, 160f., 204f. 88, 194 64 194f. 181 148-150, 160, 196, 312 192, 198f. 148, 150 10, 36f., 61-63, 68, 77f., 161 37, 60-64, 192, 198f. 150, 192, 391 58, 63-65 183 160, 174 11, 27, 77f., 143, 192, 203, 205, 269, 374-377, 391f. 10, 183, 391 228 36 88, 174, 177, 183

404 10,7 10,9 10,10f. 10,12 10,13-15 10,13f. 10,13 10,15 10,16 10,21-24 10,21f. 10,21 10,22 10,23f. 10,23 10,24 11,2-4 11,2 11,4 11,9-13 11,14-20 11,11-13 11,11f. 11,11 11,12 11,13 11,14-52 11,14ff. 11,14-26 11,14-20 11,14f. 11,14 11,15-22 11,15-20 11,15 11,16 11,17-26 11,17f. 11,17 11,19 11,20

Index of Ancient Sources 78, 205 98, 155, 174, 176f., 180, 200f., 204 63, 183 23-25, 230 24, 76, 110, 112, 175f., 225, 312, 395 23 23, 126, 175f., 180, 200 23, 190, 200 148, 160, 175 126, 137, 153f., 198 121 88f., 128, 143, 153156, 192, 205 10, 161f., 203, 269, 271 200f., 236 126 154, 236 97, 112, 160 77, 89 77, 87, 91, 160 10, 27, 91, 97, 203, 228, 269 10, 28, 76f., 177-179, 203 84, 257, 266f., 275f., 281 312 28 10 54, 88-90 395 178 225 201, 204, 269 160 170, 193, 200, 204 200 170, 193, 204 199, 205 160, 182, 199, 202, 205 160, 199 178, 199f., 203 10 179-181, 205 98, 174, 179

11,21-26 11,21f. 11,23 11,24-26

11,29-32 11,29-31 11,29f. 11,29 11,30 11,31f. 11,31 11,32 11,33 11,34f. 11,34 11,39ff. 11,39-52 11,39-51 11,39-44 11,39 11,42 11,43 11,44 11,46-48 11,46 11,47-51 11,47 11,49-51 11,49 11,50f. 11,51 11,52 12,2-22,30 12,2f. 12,3 12,4f. 12,4 12,6f. 12,6 12,8f. 12,10 12,12 12,22-31 12,24-28

170, 277 178 175 42, 50, 76f., 91, 178f., 199f., 203, 225, 260f., 269, 275-277, 281, 289 160 133 182, 199, 202, 232, 302, 305 136, 234 234 110, 132, 199, 202, 312 231 23-25, 232, 234 11, 27, 46, 78, 203, 269 203, 269 11 181 24, 76f., 120 77 246 127 59, 77, 126 121, 126f. 126, 131 246 126, 205 122 90, 126, 184 126, 130, 136, 182, 185, 202, 232, 395 121, 205, 236 133 232 10, 126, 129, 205, 246 194f., 202 11 11 130 121 78 10 47, 54, 228, 313 201 201 49f., 97, 109, 112, 160 78, 312

12,24 12,26-28 12,27f. 12,27 12,30 12,33f. 12,33 12,34f. 12,34 12,39-46 12,39f.

12,39

12,40 12,42-46

12,42-44 12,42 12,43f. 12,43 12,44 12,45f. 12,45 12,46 12,49 12,51-53 12,51 12,53 12,54-56 12,57-59 12,58f.

12,58 13 13,18-21

Index of Ancient Sources

405

13,18f.

10, 27f., 203, 256f., 261, 263, 266f., 269, 272f., 275, 278, 281, 283, 289 78 28, 223 11, 203, 256f., 260f., 263, 266f., 269, 272f., 275, 278, 281, 283, 289 11, 42, 203, 269, 374, 382f., 393 382 47, 52f., 131 27, 192, 343 305 47f., 52-55 230, 356 54 76f., 110, 115, 118f., 160, 165, 232, 395 10, 15, 23f., 183f., 186, 252 184-187, 192 394 10, 59 289 11, 28, 47, 51-53, 80f., 203, 269, 359, 374, 383-387 256f., 260f., 263, 266f., 272, 275, 278, 280f., 285 28, 346 27, 192 53, 256f., 260f., 263, 266f., 272, 275, 278, 281, 285 37, 109, 149 10, 58, 60, 64-67 65, 68, 150, 161, 185f. 11, 203, 257, 269, 275, 279, 281 10, 13, 15, 28, 287, 289 91, 160, 193, 203, 256f., 260f., 263, 266f., 269, 272, 275, 279, 281, 284 15, 28, 308

10, 203, 269 203, 269 10 231 84, 89f. 11, 49f., 54f., 295 54 306 49 60, 364 10, 28, 49-51, 105, 110, 256f., 260, 263, 266, 269, 275, 277, 281, 289, 302, 343, 364 27, 289-292, 295, 300302, 304-306, 374, 378-380, 392 52, 83, 291f., 301, 303, 305f. 10, 12, 27, 51f., 55, 80, 82-84, 105, 203, 256f., 260f., 263, 266f., 269, 272f., 275, 277f., 281, 283, 289f., 302, 305, 343, 359, 364, 368, 374, 379-381, 393 52 27, 83, 192 283, 379, 381 192, 380 283, 380 52, 283 192, 283, 379 51, 192, 356, 379, 381 105, 110 58, 64f. 105, 110 88, 105, 110 11, 105, 107, 202f., 269 11, 257f., 275, 278, 281 77, 93, 102, 105-111, 113, 160, 203, 228, 260f., 269 28, 205 115 264, 312f.

13,19-21 13,19 13,20f.

13,24-27 13,24 13,25-27 13,25 13,26f. 13,29.28 13,28 13,29 13,34f. 13,34 13,35 14 14,5 14,16-24 14,16-23

14,16-21

14,16 14,21 14,23

14,26f. 14,26 14,27 14,34f. 15,4-7 15,4f.

15,4

406 15,7

15,8-10

15,8f. 15,8 15,9 15,10 16,13

16,16 16,17 16,18 17 17,3f. 17,3 17,6 17,20f. 17,23-37 17,23f. 17,23 17,24 17,26-30 17,26f. 17,26 17,28-30 17,28f. 17,30 17,33 17,34f.

17,34 17,35 17,37 19 19,12-27 19,12-26 19,12f.

19,12

Index of Ancient Sources 160, 193, 203, 256f., 252f., 263, 266f., 269, 272, 275, 279, 281, 284 20, 256f., 260f., 263, 266, 272, 275, 279f., 282, 289, 307-335 335 308, 320 325, 329f. 334f. 10, 27-29, 51, 80f., 87, 160, 192, 203, 213, 269, 374, 387f., 392 110, 213 58f., 79, 228f. 228 343 69, 160, 336 69 10, 160 194, 196, 199, 202 51, 364, 370 77, 343 12 11, 200, 202 77 232, 292, 302, 305, 343 200, 202, 232 292, 305 230, 302, 343 200, 202, 302, 343 336 200, 202f., 258, 269, 275, 280, 282, 305, 312, 343 11, 27 11 10, 12, 203, 258, 270, 275, 280, 282, 343 343, 394f. 260 12, 27f., 51, 80, 84-88, 339-370 203, 256, 258, 261, 263, 266f., 270, 272, 275, 280f., 285, 289, 344-348, 374, 388-390 28

19,13 19,15-24

22,30

346f., 349, 361, 364 203, 256, 258, 261, 263, 266f., 270, 272, 275, 280f., 285, 289, 374, 388-390 10, 27, 192, 348f., 364 349f. 192, 351, 354 349f. 350f. 192, 350f. 351-354 87 351 192, 351 28, 351-353, 364-368 351 352f., 365 86f., 205, 353, 361, 365 353f. 203, 256, 258, 261, 263, 266f., 270, 272, 275, 280f., 285, 289, 354f., 374, 388-390 356 78, 110, 184, 202, 343, 370 11, 132, 193, 252

Matthew 3,7 3,8 3,10 5,3-10 5,13 5,14f. 5,25f. 5,33-37 5,41 7,7-9 7,7 7,9f. 7,11 7,13 7,18 7,22 7,23 7,24 8,12

8 9 9 201 279 279 261 228 228 266 266 266 266 382 9 383 383 263 356

19,15 19,16f. 19,16 19,17 19,18f. 19,18 19,20-24 19,20-22 19,20f. 19,20 19,21 19,22-24 19,22 19,23 19,24 19,26

19,〚27〛 22,28.30

407

Index of Ancient Sources 10,24f. 10,37f. 11,16 11,21 12,22-37 12,22 13,12 13,31f. 13,42 13,43 13,50 15,14 18,4 18,14 18,23-35 18,24 19,8 20,1-16 20,1-15 20,2 20,8 21,40 21,42 22,1-14 22,2-10 22,2 22,3 22,4 22,7 22,8-9 22,13 23,34 23,35 24f. 24,28 24,32-36 24,37-51 24,39 24,42 24,43-51 24,43f. 24,43 24,44 24,45-51 24,45 24,51 25,1-13 25,10 25,13

258, 270 60 263, 273 201 276 177 355 260 356 131 356 258, 270 264 264, 284 368 346 87, 131 310 318 346 376 376 129 265, 267, 383 278, 280 264, 346 384 384 384f. 385 356 236 233 343 258 305f. 305 306 306 364 292 291f., 306 291f. 274 379 356 305f., 344, 364 382 306, 344

25,14-30 25,14-18 25,14 25,14f. 25,15-18 25,15-17 25,15 25,16 25,19 25,20f. 25,21 25,22f. 25,23 25,24-28 25,24 25,25 25,27 25,29 25,30 25,31-46

265, 267, 280, 305f., 340f., 364, 370 344-348 344f., 388 348, 390 348 348 347f. 348 348f., 389 349f. 346, 350f. 350f. 346, 350f. 351-354 352 352 353 354f. 356 280, 305f., 356

Mark 1,2 1,21-34 2,1-10 3,6 3,31-35 4,21 4,25 4,30-32 5,1-20 7,10 7,24-30 8,22-26 9,50 10,5 10,30 10,46-52 11 11,12-14 12,9 12,10 13,12 13,34 14,51f.

225 190 194 194 37 279 355 260 190 58 190, 192 190 279 87, 131 37 190 46 190 376 129 64 344, 347 104

Luke 3,7 3,8

8 8f.

408 3,9 4,16-30 4,17 4,20 6,39-45 6,39f. 6,39 6,40 6,43 7,1-10 7,31 7,47 10,30-37 11,9 11,11-13 11,11f. 11,13 11,14-23 11,14 11,21f. 11,33 12,15 12,16-21 12,22-33 12,35-48 12,35-38 12,35 12,36 12,39f. 12,40 12,41 12,42-46 12,42 12,48 12,54-56 12,57-59 12,57 12,58f. 13,18f. 13,24 13,25 13,26 13,27 13,28 14,12-24 14,16-24 14,16-21 14,17 14,21 14,23f.

Index of Ancient Sources 9 212 212 212 258 258 258, 270 9 206 263, 263 256 266 266 266 266 276 177 277 279 50 50 50 394 277, 394 277 292 394 263, 274 379 394 258 258 262 261 260 382 382 383 383 356 383 265, 278, 384 384, 385

270

273

303

277

267 280 385

14,23 14,26f. 14,27 14,34f. 14,34 15 15,1-3 15,7 15,8-10 15,8 15,11-32 16,1-8 17,7-10 19,11-27 19,11 19,12-27 19,12-26 19,12-14 19,12 19,13 19,14 19,15 19,16f. 19,17 19,18f. 19,19 19,20-25 19,20f. 19,21 19,24 19,25 19,26 19,27 20,13 20,15 20,17 22,28-30

278, 280 60 60 279 279 312 308 284, 308 20, 255, 260, 264, 267 264 256, 280 363 368 340f., 345 344 263, 267, 370 280 344-348 264, 344, 388 390 344 344, 348f., 389 349f. 344 350f. 344, 350 351-354 352 353 353 354, 389 354f. 344, 356 376 376 129 345

John 5,19-23 10,11 10,14

271 308 308

Acts 1,6f. 10,1-48 10,28 16,1-13 22,23-29 23,6-10

344 205f. 190 256 205f. 122

409

Index of Ancient Sources 27,1-4 1 Corinthians 9,9f. Galatians 1-2 4,21-26

206

2 Timothy 4,13

238

James 1,17 2 Peter 3,10

205 238

Revelation 3,3 16,15f. 16,15

1 Thessalonians 5,2 291 5,3 291 5,4 291

211

141 291

291 291 291

Greco-Roman Literature Aristotle

Martial

Mem. rem.

Epigrams 1.2 14,184 14,192

451a

12

211 212 212

Diogenes Laertius Plato Lives and Opinions of Eminent Philosophers 3.37 210 6,95 196

Resp. 4,440d

14

Quintilian Homer Il. 2,243

Inst. 10.3.31-32

211

13f. Suetonius

Lucian Gall. 29

Cal. 56-58

205

Vesp. 1

205

298

Papyri BGU IV 1058

315

CPR XVIII 1

315

C.Pap.Jud. I7

321

M.Chr. 260

315

410

Index of Ancient Sources

O.Bern. 2 198

332

P18

215

P98

215

P.Bad. II 35 IV 48

315 316

P.Berl.Dem 3142 3144

315 315

P.Brem. 63

315

P.Cair. Zen I 59028 III 59507 III 59397 IV 59748

319 102 323 319

P.Charite 34

315

P.Col. IV 66 IV 99 VIII 215 X 266

319 334 330 106

P.Corn. 1 9 48

321 315 324

P.Duk. Inv. 739

103

P.Fay 91

316

P.Flor. III 332 III 388

316 319

P.Kar.Goodsp. 42 327

P.Köln II 100

316

P.Lond. I 131 VII 1976

319 315

P.Mert. II 83

315

P.Mich. I 26 I 55 I 74 I 78 I 97 II 121 recto IV III 178 V 266 V 355 VI 421.2-9 VIII 464 VIII 473,26f. VIII 474 VIII 482,22 VIII 495,9-13 VIII 503

323 323 323f. 323 334 i 322 102 316 319 306 331 332 332 332 331 324

P.Mil.Vogl. II 77

320f.

P.Oslo III 109

325f.

P.Oxy. I 69 I 114 VI 932 VIII 1079 VIII 1121 X 1272 XII 1453 XII 1449, 7-16 XIV 1680 XXXIII 2860 XXXVI 2789 XLIX 3467.3-7 LV 3798 LXXIV 5015

295 315 316 217 329 328f. 321 321 324f. 316 316 296 315 334

411

Index of Ancient Sources P.Petaus 47

334

P.Ryl. II 127

295f.

P.Tebt. I 45 I 46 I 47 I 48 I 49 I 50 I 126 I 127 II 278 II 331 II 332 II 389 III/1 703 III/1 759 III/1 784 III/1 793 III/1 794.2–13 III/1 802

293f., 300 300 300 104 326 327 300 300 103 103 294 315 323 323 102f. 292f. 303 102f.

P.Wisc. I5 II 73

334 332f.

P.Worp. 52

334

PSI VI 599

315

SB III 6796 IV 7376. V 7600 V 7660 VIII 9790 XII 11125 XVI 12326 XX 14679

321 101f. 325 330 315f. 327f. 327 296f.

Timon 6 12

319 319

UPZ I 59

316f.

Early Christian Texts John Chrysostom Educ. lib. § 39

Gospel of Thomas 20 260 20,2-4 304 20,10 304 21,5 277, 302-304, 306 21,6 303f. 21,7 303 41 355 103 277

240f.

Jerome Comm. Jon. prol.

234

Didache 16,1

303

Qurʼān Surah 2-5 2,249-251 3,34f.

242 246 245

3,39 4,163 6,25 6,74

244 241 250 246

412 6,86 7 8,31 9,30 11 11,44 12 16,24 17,25 18,9-26 18,83-98 19 19,56 20,85 20,88 20,95 21,5 21,52-58 21,68f.

Index of Ancient Sources 246 245 250 242 245 249 242 250 241 244 244 242 248 248 248 248 241 247 247

21,85 21,87 21,105 23,83 25,5 25,53 27,68 31 35,12 37,88-96 37,112 38,48 46,17 62 66,12 68,15 77,27 83,13

248 248 241 250 250 249 250 247 249 247 247 246 250 242 245 250 249 250

Index of Modern Authors Abbott, H. P. 75 Ahtaridis, E. 317 Aland, B. 226, 342 Aland, K. 101 Albert-Birot, P. 33 Albertz, R. 79 Aletti, J.-N. 390 Alexander, L. 214 Allan, G. 221 Allison, D. C. Jr. 64, 79, 81, 119, 141, 222f., 225, 230f., 270, 290, 304 Allison, P. M. 40 Alston, R. 319f. Alter, R. 16 Altheim, F. 250 Arnal, W. E. 50, 77, 83, 85f., 98, 109, 112, 125-127, 214-216, 237, 308, 320 Arndt, W. F. 87 Assaf, A. A. 298 Aune, D. 124 Aviam, M. 190 Bachelard, G. 22, 33 Backhaus, K. 171 Bagnall, R. S. 212, 317 Bahǧa ʿAbdalġafūr al-Ḥadītī, H. 249 Bailey, K. E. 308, 310, 326, 330 Bakke, O. M. 88f. Balch, D. L. 51 Barclay, J. M. G. 71 Barthes, R. 21, 221 Barton, S. C. 60, 62 Batten, A. 308 Bauckham, R. 208f., 216 Baud, M. 96 Bauer, W. 87, 352 Baum, A. D. 18 Bazzana, G. 214-216, 218 Beavis, M. A. 381

Beck, N. N. A. 115 Becker, J. 341, 369 Becker, M. 173 Bedenbender, A. 229 Bendemann, R. von 341 Bennema, C. 26f., 374 Bergman, J. 157 Bernett, M. 367 Berquist, J. L. 34, 43 Bethge, H.-G. 355 Betz, H. D. 387 Bindemann, W. 388, 394 Bird, M. 209 Bishop, E. F. F. 322 Black, M. 7 Blass, F. 349, 362 Bloom, H. 221 Bobzin, H. 244 Bork, A. 23f. Botterweck, G. J. 157 Bourdieu, P. 38f. Bourquin, Y. 16, 26 Bovon, F. 184, 192, 346f., 349-351, 363-366, 382 Bradley, K. R. 381 Brandenburger, H. 345 Brandt, P. 233 Brauner, U. 345 Brockelmann, C. 249 Brooks, P. 75 Bruehler, B. B. 368 Bryen, A. Z. 99, 108 Bultmann, R. 191f., 194, 196, 268, 276f., 279, 301f., 345f., 348, 350, 354-356 Buntfuß, M. 13 Burchard, C. 191 Busch. P. 231 Busse, H. 241 Busse, U. 345, 352f., 360f., 370

414

Index of Modern Authors

Callon, C. 288 Camp, C. V. 34 Carroll, J. T. 344 Carter, W. 395 Casey, M. 62, 80 Catchpole, D. R. 74, 79, 82, 99-101, 302 Cavallo, G. 209 Charlesworth, J. H. 190 Chatman, S. B. 19, 80 Collins, J. J. 77, 146 Colpe, C. 303 Cotter, W. J. 191, 194, 203, 205 Cotton, H. 288 Crawford, M. H. 320 Cribiore, R. 212, 317 Crossan, J. D. 74, 105, 110, 290, 308, 368, 370, 385 Culpepper, R. A. 371 Cunningham, C. E. 39 Dandamayev, M. 81 Daniels, J. B. 343 Darr, J. A. 373 Dassmann, E. 249, 378 Davies, W. D. 141, 270, 290, 304 Debrunner, A. 349, 362 DeConick, A. D. 304 Denaux, A. 341, 344-356 Derrenbacker, R. A. Jr. 3, 207 Derrett, J. D. M. 309, 322, 326, 361, 390 De Labriolle, P. 196 Derrett, J. D. M. 309f., 326 Dewey, A. J. 379 Dickey, E. 331 Dietzfelbinger, C. 370 Docherty, T. 26 Dodd, C. H. 257-259, 261f., 269, 274280, 289, 290, 304 Dormeyer, D. 164, 170, 181, 196f., 200, 206, 268, 363, 374 Draper, J. A. 18, 77f., 97 Drexhage, H.-J. 319, 329, 361 Dunn, J. D. G. 17f., 80, 340 Dupont, J. 155, 312 Ebner, M. 178, 341, 347, 365, 367f., 370 Eco, U. 21

Eder, J. 26, 29, 371-373, 375, 377 Eliade, M. 141 El-Khoury, F. 297 Elliott, R. C. 87 Engemann, J. 249 Erlemann, K. 347, 390 Evans, C. A. 5, 345, 366, 368 Eve, E. 4 Eyben, E. 89 Fascher, E. 164 Fiaccadori, G. 231 Fiedler, P. 369 Fiensy, D. A. 81-83, 85, 91, 330 Finley, M. I. 82, 85f. Finnern, S. 16, 373, 375, 381 Firestone, R. 247 Fitzmyer, J. A. 159, 192, 270, 280, 307, 311, 320, 323 Fleddermann, H. T. 16-19, 61, 66, 7476, 79, 142, 147-152, 154f., 161, 163-166, 169, 171, 173, 177, 183, 187, 190-192, 194-196, 202, 205, 222f., 229, 260, 262, 270, 277-279, 282-284, 302, 312f., 336, 341, 344356, 362, 393 Flint, P. 119 Fohrer, G. 157 Fokkelman, J. P. 16 Foley, J. M. 80 Fonck, L. 290 Forster, E. M. 25f. Fortner, S. 175 Foster, P. 15, 255, 391f. Foucault, M. 47, 54 Frankemölle, H. 361f., 368 Frenschkowski, M. 18, 24, 143, 181, 221, 227, 229, 237, 243, 245, 341, 343, 346, 376, 391f. Frey, J. 168, 341, 366 Freyne, S. 377 Fricke, M. 367 Funk, R. W. 290 Fürst, A. 248 Galindo, F. 206 Galtung, J. 100 Gamble, H. 211, 218 García Martínez, F. 117f. Gathercole, S. 239 Genette, G. 19, 21, 75, 167, 190, 221

Index of Modern Authors

415

George, M. K. 43f. Gerber, C. 380f. Gerhard, G. A. 330 Gerhardsson, B. 208 Gertz, J. C. 361-363 Gingrich, F. W. 87 Glancy, J. A. 368, 380, 394f. Gnilka, J. 242, 341, 346-348, 350-352, 356, 361, 364, 370 Goldmann, L. 145 Goodacre, M. 3 Goodman, M. 361 Gould, S. J. 144f. Goulder, M. 3 Gowler, D. B. 374 Grassi, J. A. 89 Gregg, B. H. 340, 393 Greimas, A. J. 25f. Guijarro, S. 23, 35f., 42, 47, 49, 51, 394 Gülich, E. 197 Gundry, R. H. 346f. Gzella, H. 178

Hobson, D. W. 104, 111, 315 Hock, R. F. 196 Hoffmann, G. 22 Hoffmann, P. 9, 49, 58, 61, 66, 74, 81, 83, 99, 171-174, 176f., 184, 190, 194f., 200, 204, 228, 256, 270, 287, 301, 307, 341-346, 348, 355, 362, 364, 365, 382f. Hogan, K. M. 136 Hoheisel, K. 248f. Hopkins, K. 81, 322 Horovitz, J. 246, 248 Horsley, R. A. 18f., 77f., 80, 82f., 85f., 93, 97 Hultgren, A. J. 83-85, 264-269, 275282, 284, 290, 309, 314, 318, 322f., 379-381, 383f., 386, 388 Hüneburg, M. 163, 170, 175f., 181, 191, 194 Hunt, S. 26 Hunziker-Rodewald, R. 13, 15 Hunzinger, C.-H. 159 Hurtado, L. W. 166, 185, 210

Hägg, T. 216f. Hahn, F. 302 Hales, S. 38 Halliday, M. A. K. 78, 90 Harb, G. 280 Harnack, A. von 278, 340, 342, 344, 355, 366, 383, 388 Harnisch, W. 303, 346, 351, 365, 374, 384-386, 390 Harrill, J. A. 360 Harvey, D. 37, 46, 53 Haverkamp, A. 6 Hedrick, C. 290 Heichelheim, F. M. 318 Heil, C. 4, 16, 18, 27, 64f., 84f., 134, 163f., 171, 184f., 190, 195, 200, 228, 341, 345, 369, 370, 389, 395 Heil, J. P. 386 Heinrichs, J. 360 Heller, B. 248 Hengel, M. 61 Herzog, R. 191 Herzog, W. R. II 290, 366f. Hezser, C. 360 Hieke, T. 172, 223f., 345 Hirschfeld, Y. 297f.

Inselmann, A. 385 Iser, W. 78 Jacobson, A. D. 57, 61f., 65, 67-69, 75, 79, 93, 153, 195, 199f., 217, 340, 365 Jaeger, S. 30 Jäger, D. 22 James, L. 16 Jannidis, F. 26f. Järvinen, A. 163 Jeffery, A. 241, 246-249 Jensen, M. H. 86 Jeremias, J. 222, 234f., 259-262f., 268f., 275-278, 282, 283, 284, 289, 290, 291f., 295, 304, 322, 344f., 352, 363, 378 Jochum-Bortfeld, C. 361 Johnson, A. C. 319 Johnson, L. T. 122-124 Johnson, M. 7, 73, 85 Johnson, S. R. 170 Jonas, D. 382f., 393 Jülicher, A. 164, 268, 290-292, 303, 305

416

Index of Modern Authors

Kahl, W. 3 Kähler, C. 341, 347, 361, 390 Karrer, M. 119, 125 Kaser, M. 347, 360 Kaulen, F. 117 Kavanagh, J. H. 78 Keen, S. 371 Kelber, W. 80 Kellogg, R. 75, 90 Kelly, B. 329 Kent, S. 41 Kern, G. 270 Kessler, R. 361 Khoury, A. T. 244 Kim, C.-H. 385 Kirk, A. 19, 177, 185 Klauck, H.-J. 330 Klauser, T. 196 Klein, H. 341, 345 Kloppenborg, J. S. 3, 5, 9, 12, 16-18, 23, 33, 49, 57f., 61f., 70, 74, 76f., 79, 81, 83, 85f., 93f., 96, 99, 105, 111, 160, 167, 171, 177, 186, 192, 194f., 200, 202, 205, 214, 216-218, 224, 229, 232, 234f., 237, 256, 270, 279, 287f., 301, 304f., 307, 310-313, 319f., 325, 330, 336f., 341-343, 350, 362, 364, 366, 368f., 377-381, 383, 387, 389, 392, 395f. Klostermann, E. 308, 322 Knoch, O. 268 Kollmann, B. 169, 175f., 374 Konen, H. 361 Körtner, U. H. J. 21 Kraft, R. 212 Krieger, K.-S. 185 Kristeva, J. 221 Labahn, M. 17, 19f., 22, 75f., 133, 163f., 166, 172, 177f., 180, 183-185, 187, 192, 194f., 202, 223, 290, 298f., 300f., 341, 348, 350, 360, 362, 364f., 368, 370f., 374, 378, 382, 387f., 392f., 395 Lachmann, R. 221 Lakoff, G. 7, 73, 85 Lambrecht, J. 341, 344, 347, 355 Lämmert, E. 167f. Lange, A. 135 Lapin, H. 289

Lawson, T. 241 McLaughlin, T. 73 Leemhuis, F. 247 Lefebvre, H. 33, 37f., 43-47, 50-53 Leighton, D. C. 100 Lewis, N. 288 Lieberman, S. 208 Lindemann, A. 5, 224 Lindemann, H. 166 Lightfoot, R. H. 34 Llewelyn, S. R. 209f. Loader, W. R. G. 61 Loewenclau, I. von 14 Lohmeyer, E. 34 Longenecker, B. W. 167 Lopez, K. M. 47f. Lotman, J. M. 22, 25 Löwenstein, K. 304, 370, 393, 395 Lüdemann, G. 341, 355f., 369 Lührmann, D. 20, 175, 341, 343, 355, 364 Lukaszewicz, A. 292, 300 Luz, U. 171, 191, 207, 209f., 270, 340, 346f., 350, 353-356, 360-362, 365, 368-370 MacDonald, D. R. 255, 369 Mack, B. L. 94, 97, 196 Maier, B. 244 Maier, J. 117-120, 126 Malbon, E. S. 23, 34 Malina, B. J. 95, 326 Maloney, L. 308f. Manson, T. W. 265, 282 Marguerat, D. 16, 26 Marshall, I. H. 79, 256 Marshall, J. 122f. Martínez, M. 167 Marxsen, W. 34 März, C.-P. 341, 343, 345f., 364 McAuliffe, J. D. 244 McIntosh, G. E. 41f. McLuhan, M. 207 Meier, J. P. 169, 227, 344, 356 Mein, A. 288 Meissel, F.-S. 347 Menken, M. J. J. 226 Merklein, H. 134, 346 Merz, A. 370 Métraux, G. P. R. 40

Index of Modern Authors Metzger, B. M. 354 Meyers, G. E. 41f. Migbisiegbe, G. I. 356 Millard, A. 211 Miller, J. H. 75, 142 Milligan, G. 349 Montefiore, C. G. 309 Moreland, M. C. 307, 343 Morgenthaler, R. 5, 278, 285 Moulton, J. H. 349 Mournet, T. C. 17, 18 Moxnes, H. 23, 35-38, 42, 55, 69 Müller, D. 13 Müller, U. B. 186 Münch, C. 343, 360, 362, 368-370, 378, 388f., 391, 394f. Munslow, A. 18, 30 Nagel, T. 243, 247, 249f. Neirynck, F. 74, 76 Neuwirth, A. 241, 243f., 246, 249f. Nevett, L. C. 39-41 Neyrey, J. H. 57, 70 Nickelsburg, G. W. E. 122f., 126, 129, 131, 134-137 Niebuhr, K.-W. 173 Nielsen, H. K. 353 Nöldeke, T. 246, 249 North, J. L. 236 Noy, D. 230 Oakman, D. E. 77, 83, 85f., 318 O’Neil, E. N. 196 Ong, W. J. 239 Oppenheimer, A. 251 Osiek, C. 51 Patterson, S. J. 68, 302, 355 Park, I. 16, 394 Perdue, L. G. 90 Perrin, N. 3 Pfister, M. 26 Phelan, J. 75, 90 Piper, R. A. 49f., 76, 93, 99, 105, 343, 368, 387 Pleins, J. D. 79 Plisch, U.-K. 302, 355 Pollmann, I. 229, 251 Popkes, E. E. 180, 200 Porter, S. E. 221

417

Powell, M. A. 16 Prout, A. 88 Puig i Tàrrech, A. 390 Raible, W. 197 Räisänen, H. 229, 238, 239 Ramaroson, L. 323 Reed J. L. 11f., 23f., 33, 77, 232, 234 Reekmans, T. 319 Rehkopf, F. 349, 362 Reid, B. E. 309 Reiser, M. 363 Resseguie, J. L. 26, 28 Reynolds, G. S. 241 Richards, I. 7 Richardson, P. 23, 35f., 42, 47, 53 Ricoeur, P. 7, 12, 22, 74f. Rienecker, F. 119 Riggsby, A. M. 41 Riniker C. 340, 370 Robbins, V. K 196 Roberts, C. H. 209-213 Robinson, J. M. 4f., 9, 49, 58, 61, 74f., 76, 81, 83, 99, 163, 171, 177, 194, 200, 208, 256, 270, 287, 301, 307, 342f., 360, 365, 383 Rodd, C. S. 5 Rohrbaugh, R. L. 326, 351, 362, 365f., 389 Rollens, S. E. 16, 97 Roth, D. T. 5, 16, 27, 372, 375f. Rowland, C. 123 Rowlandson, J. 314-316, 321f. Ruffing, K. 361 Rüsen, J. 18 Rutten, R. 96 Ryan, M. 75 Safrai, Z. 318, 361 Saldarini, A. J. 77, 79 Saller, R. 82 Sanders, E. P. 350 Sato, M. 20, 79, 207-210 Scheffel, M. 167 Schenk, W. 303, 341 Schlosser, J. 222, 392 Schmid, J. 340, 344 Schneider, G. 303 Schnelle, U. 164, 185 Scholes, R. 75, 90

418

Index of Modern Authors

Schöllgen, G. 378 Schott, A. 13 Schottroff, L. 288, 290, 308, 310f., 318, 325, 367f., 384-387, 394 Schrage, W. 302 Schramm, T. 304, 370, 393, 395 Schröter, J. 19, 239, 355 Schulthess, F. 249 Schulz, S. 20, 164, 192, 302, 341, 344356, 360, 364 Schürmann, H. 303 Schützinger, H. 247 Schwemer, A. M. 234 Scott, B. B. 83, 85, 262-264, 268f., 275-277, 282, 290, 309, 322, 336, 379, 380, 384, 386, 390 Scriba, A. 224, 340, 348 Seeden, H. 298 Seibert, I. 13 Sevenich-Bax, E. 163f. Siegert, F. 235 Siffer, N. 143 Skeat, T. C. 209-213 Sleeman, M. 34, 46 Smith, D. A. 16, 23, 186, 262, 300 Smith, D. E. 384 Smitmans, A. 303 Snodgrass, K. R. 84, 269, 271-279, 282, 284, 290, 308f., 322f., 335, 379-381, 385, 390f., 394 Soja, E. W. 34, 43, 45-47, 51-53 Sperber, D. 319 Speyer, H. 241, 245, 247f., 250 Stammler, R. 95 Stanley, C. D. 293 Stanton, G. 208 Steck, O. H. 93 Stegemann, W. 85, 86, 87, 318, 366 Stegemann, E. W. 85, 86, 87, 318, 366 Stemberger, G. 119, 120-122 Sternberg, M. 167f. Stettler, H. 171 Stewart, E. C. 23, 34, 46 Strecker, G. 164, 302 Streeter, B. H. 281 Stuckenbruck, L. T. 125-127, 129f., 132-137 Svartvik, J. 360 Tamer, G. 245

Theißen, G. 24, 57, 62, 127, 145f., 191, 370 Thyen, J.-D. 241 Tiwald, M. 16, 21, 59, 119f., 127, 130, 133-135, 376 Tödt, H. E. 20, 76 Tolmie, D. F. 16, 26 Tottoli, R. 242, 248 Trebilco, P. 69 Tuan, Y.-F. 39, 47 Tuckett, C. M. 4, 8, 16f., 57, 62, 66, 68, 76, 80f., 99f., 149, 222, 283, 341, 365, 374, 382, 392, 394 Turner, E. 210, 213f. Uhlig, S. 125 Ukpong, J. 368 Uro, R. 239 Vaage, L. E. 97, 177 Valantasis, R. 369 Van der Watt, J. 271 Van Haelst, J. 210 VanderKam, J. 119 Van Minnen, P. 212 Vassiliadis, P. 340 Vearncombe, E. K. 16, 101, 104, 318 Verheyden, J. 383, 385 Via, D. O. 355, 363, 365, 385f. Vielhauer, P. 302 Wachter, R. 330 Wacke, A. 360 Walker, S. 40 Ward, J. M. 157 Weder, H. 341, 345, 347-356, 364-366, 370 Wegner, U. 170 Weinrich, H. 7, 12 Weiser, A. 191, 340, 391, 393 Weiß, H.-F. 236 Weisse, C. H. 217 Wellhausen, J. 231, 236 Westbrook, R. 300 Wheelwright, P. 73 Wiarda, T. 167 Wiefel, W. 184 Williams, J. G. 196 Winter, D. D. 100 Winterling, A. 205

Index of Modern Authors Wohlgemut, J. R. 340, 368 Wolter, M. 184, 344-362, 364 Wong, E. K. C. 205 Wordsworth, W. 73 Wright, N. T. 69 Würzbach, N. 22 Yadin, Y. 289 Yardeni, A. 288 Yavetz, Z. 82 Youngquist, L. E. 343

419

Zald, M. N. 96 Zeller, D. 13, 78, 115f., 131, 153, 186, 342, 346, 349-354, 369 Zieleniec, A. 37, 43, 44, 45 Zimmermann, J. 172 Zimmermann, R. 6f., 9, 13-15, 18, 22, 26f., 30, 80, 169, 202, 268-271, 274, 287, 289, 334, 347, 372, 376f., 384, 391 Zirker, H. 244 Zöckler, T. 304 Zorzin, A. 367

Index of Subjects Abraham 52, 54, 60, 81, 131, 159, 230, 241, 244, 246f., 249f., 305 Agriculture/agricultural 9, 205, 352, 366 Aide-mémoire 216-218 Animals 8, 10, 15, 62 Apocalyptic 47f., 54, 77, 79, 112, 122126, 134-136, 154, 202, 215, 229f., 280 Archaeology 35f., 38-40, 53, 212, 297f. Banquet 47, 52-54, 333, 385 – Invitation 53, 160, 333f., 385f. → Eschatological banquet Bethany 190 Bethsaida 23f., 175f., 190, 201 Bildfeld 12-16 Bildspendender /-empfangender Bereich 7-12, 380 Boundary marker 42, 116 Brother/sister 29, 69, 305, 330-332 Capernaum 23f., 171, 190, 201, 225 Character analysis 25-29, 346, 371-373 Children 10, 88-91 Chorazin 23f., 175f., 190, 196, 201 Christology/christological 15, 147, 174, 181, 186, 192, 194, 204, 239, 282f., 292, 301f., 336, 370, 391f. Codex/Proto-codex 207-219 Coins 85, 310, 318-320, 322 Coming One 75f., 185f. Court 11, 28, 99f., 105-108 Covenant 89, 97, 101, 120, 156-158 Cross/crucifixion 65-67, 71, 142, 149f., 152, 161, 185-187 Cynic 62, 97, 196 Deuteronomistic theology 93, 116, 130, 186

Documentary papyri 94, 98, 100, 104106, 108, 113, 215, 288f., 311, 329, 334f., 349 Domestic/household space 12, 33-55, 299f. Dwellings (Elite/Non-elite) 46f., 49f., 52f., 83, 297-299 Economics 45, 250, 309, 314-318, 346348, 351f., 360f., 365, 367, 370, 376f., 389f. Elite(s)/Wealthy 12, 36, 51-54, 79f., 83, 85-87, 112, 127, 213f., 235, 289, 299, 334, 365-367, 386 Emotionsauslöser 29, 385 Eschatology/eschatological 49, 83, 89, 105, 110, 124, 133-137, 174, 180, 233, 258, 264, 280, 282-284, 303, 370, 375f., 394 – Eschatological banquet 54, 143, 160, 230, 247, 394 – Eschatological exhortation 51, 84 – Eschatological miracles 172f., 201 Ethics/ethical 8-9, 11, 23, 59, 73, 79, 87, 91, 97, 105, 109, 111, 145f., 160, 178, 228f., 339, 367f. Father/son (Parent/child) 10, 27, 57-71, 89-91, 99, 147, 240f., 271, 316, 324, 330 Fictionality 4, 20, 268, 270f., 278, 373 Factuality 4, 20 Galilee/Galilean 12, 22f., 35f., 50f., 75, 77-79, 82-86, 90f., 93, 97, 110, 126, 201, 225, 234f., 289, 251, 289, 329f., 343, 366 “Gaps” (narrative) 165-169, 188, 348, 380 Gender - Identity 34f., 38f. - Pairs 308, 312f.

422

Index of Subjects

Generation, This 25, 77, 87-89, 120f., 128, 130, 132f., 136, 182, 202, 231f., 63, 273, 283 Genre 4, 18, 130f., 154, 216, 238, 257, 262, 268, 274, 284 – of Q 17f., 163f. Gerasa 190 God – Fatherhood of 38, 84, 89, 91, 121, 142-144, 152, 156, 158f. – Son of 143, 152, 159, 161, 204

Heaven 110, 126, 128, 146, 201, 271f. – As Space 25, 47, 54, 231 – Father in 264, 266, 284 – Lord of 143, 162, – Treasure in 11, 49f., 131 Historical Jesus 20, 36-38, 55, 58, 61, 69, 227, 285, 287, 302, 369f. Homology 144-148 Intertext/ intertextuality 6, 10, 18f., 30, 173, 221-223, 226, 239, 242, 372 Intentio auctoris/operis/lectoris 21f. Israelite tradition(s) 76, 80-82, 85f., 88f., 98, 112, 226 James (Epistle of) 141, 216 Jericho 190 Jerusalem 15, 22-24, 77, 84, 98, 115117, 152, 165, 181, 183-187, 186f., 229, 232, 235, 343 John the Baptist 8f., 76, 78, 83, 89, 128, 142, 155f., 159, 165, 169, 171f., 174, 200-202, 204, 230, 248, 283 Jonah 202, 232, 234f., 241, 244, 247249 Jordan (region) 16, 23 Joseph 81, 89, 241f., 246 Kingdom of God 36, 46, 48, 54, 77f., 84, 90f., 93f., 97-99, 110, 112f., 115, 142f., 160, 176, 180, 201, 216, 263f., 284, 304, 363, 368, 384 Κύριος (Lord) 27, 51, 142-144, 150, 192, 204, 264, 282f., 291, 302, 349f., 354, 356-358, 362, 364f., 367,

370f., 375f., 379-381, 383f., 387f., 390-392 Lord’s Prayer 97, 228 Marcion 290-292, 301, 304-306 Master/slave 10, 50-52, 80-88, 147, 170, 191-193, 351f., 359-362, 366, 371-396 Membrana 211f. Memory 12, 18f., 23 → Aide-mémoire Metaphor (theory) 6-16, 73-75 - Metaphoric transfer 287f., 392 “Mental model” (of characters) 26f., 373, 379, 381f., 386, 393f. Miracle/Miracle story 24, 156, 165, 169f., 172-176, 180f., 187-194, 200202, 304 → Eschatological miracles Mission discourse 24, 60-63, 98, 153, 155f., 174f., 198, 228, 375-377 Narrative criticism 16f., 142, 163-165 Nazara (Nazareth) 23, 212, 234, 237 Neighbor(s) 90, 100f., 261, 310, 325330, 335 Nineveh 23-25, 132, 202, 235 Noah 232, 235, 241, 244f., 249, 306 Parables – Definition 15, 259, 262-265, 268, 271f., 287, 380 – Number in Q 202f., 255-275 Paul 122, 205, 208, 224, 230, 235, 238, 246 Patron/client 83, 345, 380, 390 Peasant/Poor 12, 78f., 83, 85f., 91, 100f., 112f., 127, 172, 214, 235, 289, 320, 335, 365-367, 386 Persecution 66, 70f., 121f., 130f., 185, 229 Pharisees 24, 76f., 119-122, 127, 129, 131, 181, 246, 323 Plant(s) 10, 50, 133f., 135-137 Plot 17, 19, 28, 75-80, 164, 187, 203f., 380, 383f. Poverty/Wealth → Elite(s)/Wealthy → Peasant/Poor

Index of Subjects Prophet/prophecy/prophetic 24, 71, 77, 79, 90, 116, 118f., 121-124, 126, 130, 133, 136, 155, 185f., 200-202, 204f., 225, 232-234, 236, 242, 245, 249f., 272 Q group identity 69-71, 75, 96, 109f., 125, 235-237, 395 Q text – Lukan order 60 – Oral/written 17f., 80, 87, 90 – Reconstruction 58, 61, 74, 84, 185, 278f., 285, 311-313, 339, 342f., 375, 378, 381, 396 – Stratigraphy 57-59, 94, 105, 109, 111-113, 160, 166f., 217, 223f., 229 – Structure 194f., 197-199 – “Text” of Q 4-6, 30, 396 Q tradents 11f., 94f., 237 Qumran 117-121, 126, 134f. Quran 241-252 Reader/audience 20f., 27f., 47, 63f., 78f., 89, 109, 147, 165-167, 171, 180f., 187-188, 194, 197, 204, 247, 287, 293, 314, 336, 371, 373f., 379, 387-389 Rural life 11f., 70, 83, 320, 329 Sabbath 59, 70, 190, 310 Sadducees 122 Scroll 207, 209f. Searching/finding 5, 91, 313, 323-325, 336 Secondary orality 239-241 Sepphoris 85, 298 Shepherd 13-15, 91, 160, 284, 287f., 312, 336 Showing/telling 28, 374f., 381, 386 Sidon 23f., 175, 190, 201, 225 Social relationships 10f., 27f. Sodom 23-25, 201, 230f., 245, 292, 302

423

Solomon 89, 231f., 244f., 249 Son of Man 15, 49, 62f., 76, 78, 89, 110-112, 131, 142, 145-147, 149, 160f., 184-186, 202, 204, 232f., 245, 263, 284, 291f., 302f., 305f., 343, 362, 364, 392f., 395 Space 11 – Construction of 33-35, 43-48 – Semantics of 22-25 Story/discourse 19f., 169, 173, 177, 188, 235, 248 Synoptic Problem 3f. Structural violence 100, 110 Temple 24, 37, 46, 117-119, 125, 152, 193 “Text of terror” 305, 394f. Thief 10, 49, 103, 289-301, 306, 326, 328f., 378f., 392f. Tiberias 85f. Torah/Jewish Law 36, 58-61, 70, 81, 85, 100, 121, 129, 134, 136, 192, 227-229, 238f., 361f., 394 Tyre 23f., 175, 190, 201 Urban life 11f., 85, 362 “Village Scribes” 214-216, 218, 240 Wanderradikalismus 57, 62f., 127, 131 Wax tablets 210f. Wealth → Poverty/Wealth → Elite(s)/Wealthy → Peasant/Poor Wisdom/wise (sapiential) 9, 52, 79, 91, 93, 98, 108, 112, 124, 128, 155, 205, 236, 279, 387 Women 307-311, 314-318 Zachariah 232f., 247