Responses in the Miracle Stories of the Gospels: Between Artistry and Inherited Tradition 3161540832, 9783161540837

Citation preview

Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament · 2. Reihe Herausgeber / Editor Jörg Frey (Zürich) Mitherausgeber / Associate Editors Markus Bockmuehl (Oxford) · James A. Kelhoffer (Uppsala) Hans-Josef Klauck (Chicago, IL) · Tobias Nicklas (Regensburg) J. Ross Wagner (Durham, NC)

429

Jordash Kiffiak

Responses in the Miracle Stories of the Gospels Between Artistry and Inherited Tradition

Mohr Siebeck

Jordash Kiffiak, born 1977; 1998 BA in European History; 2004 MA in Religious Studies; 2015 PhD in Comparative Religions from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem; since 2007 teaching Hellenistic Greek and biblical Hebrew; since August 2015 post-doctoral researcher at the University of Zurich.

ISBN 978-3-16-154083-7 / eISBN 978-3-16-154220-6 ISSN 0340-9570 (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament, 2. Reihe) Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data are available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de.

© 2017 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 systems. The book was printed by Laupp & Göbel in Gomaringen on non-aging paper and bound by Buchbinderei Nädele in Nehren. Printed in Germany.

Preface The present volume is a revised and enlarged version of my doctoral dissertation, accepted by the Hebrew University of Jerusalem in July of 2015. It is the result of developments in my thinking, influenced by a number of people. It is a privilege to acknowledge these debts here. Serge Ruzer, my principal doctoral advisor, has contributed significantly to my critical thinking. His keen eye has helped sharpen my arguments at numerous points, even when we at times could not agree on some point. I have greatly benefited from Serge’s way of thinking about texts, looking for broader patterns of thought, noticing especially the way that the New Testament writings can be read as examples of Second Temple Jewish literature. Serge gave me freedom to work independently, demonstrated patience, flexibility and understanding in various capacities. This was especially evident during the three years in which I experienced significant restrictions in my ability to do research, given far-ranging health complications (three years of, alternately, carpel tunnel syndrome and tendonitis, tailbone difficulties and, finally, neck and back issues), followed by a change in my research direction large enough to require the submission of a second proposal. He has my deeply felt gratitude for his continued faith in me despite these challenges. Loren Stuckenbruck, who generously volunteered to be my second advisor, has given me extensive, detailed feedback on my research and writing. He has helped me to see gaps in my work and – equally importantly – to know proper limitations, while placing my project in the light of wider issues in the field. His constant encouragement and belief in me has, on multiple occasions, given me the needed confidence to continue. He has been especially generous with his time. And he and Lois have extended warm hospitality, hosting me, also my wife, Jo Woo, when in Munich for the purposes of discussing my work. Loren’s generosity extends to his material resources, for he took personal initiative to finance my conference participation abroad. My gratitude for tutelage goes also to Justin Taylor, who at an earlier point in my doctoral studies was one of my supervisors, alongside Serge. This is especially appropriate as Justin’s work on the representation of reality in the Gospels has been one of the inspirations for the present work. From Justin I learned much on how to read a given gospel as a piece of literature. He also read an early version of my chapter on the Gospel of Mark and provided

VI

Preface

helpful feedback. Beyond this, Justin’s life is an inspiration and I have learnt a good many things from him about what is important during our short stint on this earth. I thank the members of my doctoral committee at the Hebrew University, consisting of Maren Niehoff, Yair Zakovitch and Doron Mendels, in addition to Serge and Loren, for their acceptance of a widely conceived project, which universities with traditional approaches to the New Testament may not have permitted. My interest in miracle stories was inspired in part by Yair, with whom I studied the biblical stories of Elijah, Elisha, and Moses. I am grateful to Jörg Frey, who read and provided feedback on my chapter on the Gospel of John early on. Later, as one of the two external readers of the dissertation and then, in his capacity as general editor of the WUNT II series, Jörg has provided me with detailed and helpful comments on the overall project. A special thanks goes to Jörg for the hospitality shown me as a guest at the University of Zurich during the final years of my PhD. I was given borrowing privileges and a personal seat in the library and access to the Faculty of Theology’s building outside of regular hours. Interaction with various other scholars has contributed to my thinking. Steve Runge gave valuable written feedback on key sections of my work concerned with discourse analysis. Randall Buth and Stephen Levinsohn each gave me hours of their time in Jerusalem and Vienna, respectively, to discuss miracle stories in light of discourse analysis. To Randall I owe gratitude also for inspiration and years of mentoring in reading ancient Hebrew and Greek texts with linguistic acumen. On more than one occasion Michael Segal gave me valuable advice and encouragement during the long haul of doctoral research. Parts of my research, including preliminary stages, were presented at various university seminars and international conferences. My thanks go to those who interacted with my work on these occasions, including those presiding over the relevant sessions, namely, Robert Cousland, Paul Danove, David du Toit, Bruce Fisk, Jörg Frey, Loren Stuckenbruck and Samuel Vollenweider. In addition, I benefited from the comments of others when presenting parts of my research in less formal contexts, whether at my home, in a public lecture (Caspari Center), in popular level studies (Narkis Street Congregation) and in personal conversations. Prominent among those who have helped me in one or more of the foregoing contexts, in addition to other scholars I have mentioned already, are: Gary Alley, Sharon Alley, Phillip Ben-Shmuel, Leah Hananel, Christoph Heilig, Theresa Heilig, Aaron Hornkohl, Michael Jost, Jamie Kiffiak, Danny Kopp, Benjamin Schliesser, Eran Shuali, Phillip Lasater, Friederike Kunath, Franz Toth. I owe Michael Jost further thanks for proofreading many of the citations in German. To participants in the Jerusalem School of Synoptic research, whose monthly meetings I frequently attended during my years living in Jerusalem, I

Preface

VII

owe gratitude for inspiration, modeling and interaction on the Synoptic Problem: especially Serge Ruzer, Randall Buth, Steven Notley, David Bivin, Hana Safrai (may her memory be a blessing), Malcolm Lowe, Sharon Alley, Gary Alley, Brian Kvasnica and Yair Furstenberg. I am grateful to the library of the École biblique et archéologique française de Jerusalem for their help in obtaining important resources. My thanks go also to the librarians of the Faculty of Theology at the University of Zurich – Ute Beck, Isabel Grau and Regula Wegmann – for their kindness towards me and providing me with extraordinary access to resources. I have gratitude to Susanne Mang of Mohr Siebeck for her guidance in the processes of the formatting and copy-editing of the manuscript. I would like to express a special thanks to Henning Ziebritzki for expressing faith in me and accepting this work into the WUNT II series already at an earlier stage of writing. My heartfelt thanks go out to Chuck Kopp and Liz Kopp, also the other leaders and members of the Narkis Street Congregation in Jerusalem, past and present, for the community they have fostered, which is supportive of academic research. Without this community my research would be of lesser quality. A special thanks goes to Benny Trakhtenbrot and Anat Stolarsky for their belief in me and friendship, especially during the transition between Israel and Switzerland. David Woo and Bianca Chang, Jo’s and also my parents, have been extremely generous in financially supporting my many years of research. I do not know how I would have been able to accomplish my academic dreams without their kindness. I am grateful to each of my parents, Lee Kiffiak and Dennis Kiffiak, who made room for and encouraged me at a young age to express and defend my own ideas and later supported my academic pursuits – emotionally, financially and in other ways. For support, also dear friendship, during my graduate studies I am greatly indebted to my mom. It is a pleasure to have her as one of my best friends, one who has known my abilities, as well as my shortcomings, all through my life. My dad’s belief since my youth that I could do whatever I set my mind to has always stayed with me. I have the deepest gratitude to Jo (Joanna) Woo, my spouse of eight years and best friend of many more, for her multi-faceted help in this project. Her discerning mind and keen sense of logic, alongside her familiarity with ancient Greek and Hebrew, as well as many of the texts involved, provided me with frequent, valuable feedback on my ideas and argumentation. She has helped me come up to speed with statistical analysis, wrote a script that helped me enormously with the indices and aided me in far too many other ways to list here. Her constant belief in me and the value of this study has brought me through, despite my discouragement over various setbacks.

VIII

Preface

Words cannot express my gratitude to God and also to my Lord Jesus. Whatever success I have had in this project I attribute especially to this divine love and help. This volume differs in two ways from the doctoral dissertation, upon which it is based. First, some material was removed. An appendix on lexicography and ancient Greek terms denoting feelings is now published elsewhere (Kiffiak, forthcoming). Similarly, a chapter on miracle stories in apocryphal gospels, notably the Gospel of Peter, is not to be found here. Second, other chapters were revised, with much material being added (approximately 120 pages). The structure of Chapter Six has been greatly revised and a substantial amount of material added. Chapter Seven now contains a fuller discussion of the stilling of the storm episode. Beyond this, the introduction and conclusion to each chapter have been enlarged and given greater detail, to better aid the reader in following the volume’s overarching lines of argumentation. To this end also the volume’s introductory and concluding chapters have themselves been revised and enlarged.

Table of Contents Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . V List of abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXI List of tables. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXV List of figures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXIX

Chapter 1: Introduction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

1

A. History of Research on Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

3

I. Establishing the paradigm for a form-critical, also redactioncritical, approach to responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1. From David Friedrich Strauss to Richard Reitzenstein . . . . 2. Martin Dibelius and Rudolf Bultmann . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3. Kenzo Tagawa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4. Gerd Theissen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5. Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . II. The paradigm suffers severe criticism, while its vestiges continue in the approach to responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1. Tradition-historical criticism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. Narrative criticism. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3. Source criticism. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4. Genre. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

28 28 33 36 40

B. Definitions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

46

I. II. III. IV. V. VI.

3 3 3 14 16 26

“Miracle” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “Story”. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “Miracle story” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “Responses”. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “Emotion” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “Amazement,” “fear” and “being troubled”. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

47 49 50 52 52 53

C. Reference to Greek Verbs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

54

X

Table of Contents

D. Methodology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

55

E. Procedure. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

55

Chapter 2: Mark . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

59

A. State of the Question . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

61

B. Miracle Stories with Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

79

C. Number of Responses within a Miracle Story. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

80

D. Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers . . .

82

E. Combinations of Elements within Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

91

F. Relative Priority of Elements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

94

I. Foreground/background and mainline/offline . . . . . . . . . . . . . II. Levels of prominence in foreground material . . . . . . . . . . . . .

94 95

G. Order of Appearance of Elements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105 H. Characters Responding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 I. Functional Roles of Respondents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113 J. Setting

114

K. Focalisation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115 L. Location within a Miracle Story. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 M.Connectives Introducing Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118 N. Sub-Unit Divisions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121 O. Peak of Story and Relative Prominence of Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124 P. Distribution of Responses in Miracle Stories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 Q. Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative . . . . . . . . . 129

Table of Contents

I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. XXI. XXII.

Prior to the first miracle story with a response. . . . . . . . . . . . . Mark 1.27–28. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mark 1.45 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mark 2.12c. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mark 3.6 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mark 4.41 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mark 5.14–17 and 5.20 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mark 5.33 and 5.42d . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mark 6.49–50b and 6.51c–52 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mark 7.36b–37. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mark 9.5–6 and 9.8 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mark 10.52c. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mark 11.20b–21. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mark 16.5b–c and 16.8 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

XI 131 133 135 137 138 139 140 142 144 145 147 150 152 153 154 156 161 164 165 165 166 167

R. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175

Chapter 3: Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 A. State of the Question . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 184 B. Miracle Stories with Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191 C. Number of Responses within a Miracle Story. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192 D. Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers . . . 193 E. Combinations of Elements within Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199 F. Relative Priority of Elements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201 G. Order of Appearance of Elements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203 H. Characters Responding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 208

XII

Table of Contents

I. Functional Roles of Respondents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 210 J. Setting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 210 K. Focalisation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211 L. Location within a Miracle Story. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 212 M.Connectives Introducing Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213 N. Sub-Unit Divisions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 214 O. Peak of Story and Relative Prominence of Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 215 P. Distribution of Responses in Miracle Stories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218 Q. Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative . . . . . . . . . 221 I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. XXI. XXII. XXIII. XXIV. XXV.

Matthew 1.24–25 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew 2.14–15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew 2.21 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew 8.27 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew 8.33–34 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew 9.8 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew 9.26 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew 9.31 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew 9.33b–34 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew 12.14 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew 12.23–24 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew 14.26 and 14.33. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew 15.31 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew 17.4, 17.6 and 17.8 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew 20.34c . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew 21.20 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

223 224 224 225 226 228 229 230 231 232 232 233 236 237 237 239 240 241 242 243 244 247 248 249 249

Table of Contents

XXVI. Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXVII. Matthew 28.4 and 28.8 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXVIII. Matthew 28.9b–c . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXIX. Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXX. Matthew 28.17 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

XIII 250 252 254 255 255

R. Synoptic Problem: Comparison of Matthew and Mark . . . . . . . . . . . . . 256 S. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263

Chapter 4: Luke . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 A. State of the Question . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 272 B. Miracle Stories with Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 285 C. Number of Responses within a Miracle Story. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 286 D. Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers . . . 287 E. Combinations of Elements within Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 296 F. Relative Priority of Elements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 298 G. Order of Appearance of Elements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 303 H. Characters Responding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 310 I. Functional Roles of Respondents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 312 J. Setting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 314 K. Focalisation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 316 L. Location within a Miracle Story. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317 M.Connectives Introducing Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 318 N. Sub-Unit Divisions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 319 O. Peak of Story and Relative Prominence of Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 321

XIV

Table of Contents

P. Distribution of Responses in Miracle Stories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323 Q. Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative . . . . . . . . . 326 I. Luke 1.12 and 1.21b–22 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . II. Luke 1.29. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . III. Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IV. Luke 1.64b–66 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . V. Luke 2.9c and 2.15b–20. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . VI. Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . VII. Luke 4.36–37 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . VIII. Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IX. Luke 5.8–10a and 5.11. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . X. Luke 5.15. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XI. Luke 5.25b–26 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XII. Luke 6.11 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XIII. Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XIV. Luke 7.16–17 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XV. Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XVI. Luke 8.25b . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XVII. Luke 8.34–37a and 8.39b. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XVIII. Luke 8.47 and 8.56a. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XIX. Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XX. Luke 9.32c–33, 9.34c and 9.36b–c . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXI. Luke 9.43a . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXII. Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXIII. Luke 11.14c–16 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXIV. Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXV. Luke 13.13c and 13.17b–c . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXVI. Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXVII. Luke 14.6. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXVIII. Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXIX. Luke 17.15–16a . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXX. Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXXI. Luke 18.43b–c . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXXII. Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXXIII. Luke 24.5a and 24.8–12. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXXIV. Luke 24.31a–b and 24.32–35. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XXXV. Luke 24.37, 24.41a and 24.52–53 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

328 330 332 332 335 338 341 342 343 345 346 347 348 350 352 353 355 357 358 360 362 363 364 365 365 367 367 368 368 369 370 370 374 377 380

R. Synoptic Problem: Luke’s Dependence on Matthew or Q. . . . . . . . . . . . 385 S. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 391

Table of Contents

XV

Chapter 5: John. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 399 A. State of the Question . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 401 B. Miracle Stories with Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 411 C. Number of Responses within a Miracle Story. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 412 D. Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers . . . 414 E. Combinations of Elements within Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 417 F. Relative Priority of Elements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 417 G. Order of Appearance of Elements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 419 H. Characters Responding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 421 Excursus: Use of the Term Ioudaioi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 422 I. Functional Roles of Respondents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 424 424

J. Setting

K. Focalisation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 425 L. Location within a Miracle Story. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 426 M.Connectives Introducing Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 427 N. Sub-Unit Divisions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 428 O. Peak of Story and Relative Prominence of Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 430 P. Belief and Unbelief in Miracle Stories and Other Episodes. . . . . . . . . . 431 Q. Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative . . . . . . . . . . 435 I. II. III. IV. V. VI.

Prior to the first miracle story . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John 2.11c . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John 4.53 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John 5.15–16, 18 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John 6.14 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

435 436 438 440 444 447

XVI

Table of Contents

VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI.

John 6.19b–c . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John 9.34, 38 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John 11.45–46, 53 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intervening material. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John 20.16b, 18 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John 20.20b and 20.25a . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John 20.28–29 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . John 21.7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

448 451 454 457 457 460 463 465 467 471

R. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 473

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels . . . . . . . . . . . . . 481 A. State of the Question . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 483 I. The Synoptic Problem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1. Two Document Hypothesis: Minor Agreements . . . . . . . . . 2. Two Document Hypothesis: contents of Q . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3. Alternative hypotheses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . II. The interrelations of all four gospels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . III. Oral tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . IV. Issues of language . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . V. Implications from historical Jesus research . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . VI. Procedure of the analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

483 483 486 506 510 514 522 530 532

B. Miracle Stories with Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 532 C. Number of Responses within a Miracle Story. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 537 D. Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers . . . 539 I. General . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 539 II. The emotions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 546 E. Combinations of Elements within Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 550 F. Relative Priority of Elements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 551 G. Order of Appearance of Elements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 557 H. Characters Responding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 564

Table of Contents

XVII

I. Characters responding in multiple stories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 564 II. Types of characters responding and types of stories . . . . . . . . 567 I. Functional Roles of Respondents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 570 J. Setting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 573 K. Focalisation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 576 L. Location within a Miracle Story. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 577 M.Connectives Introducing Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 579 N. Sub-Unit Divisions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 584 O. Peak of Story and Relative Prominence of Responses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 585 P. Distribution of Responses in Miracle Stories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 588 I. Role of responses in an unfolding narrative for distinction between epiphanic and other miracle stories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 588 II. Distribution of epiphany stories and other miracle stories within the narratives of the Gospels. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 590 III. Quality of responses and the larger narrative of a gospel. . . . . 594 Q. Statistical Analysis and the Case for Oral Tradition: Summary. . . . . . . 600 I. All four gospels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 600 II. Synoptic Gospels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 619 R. Minor Agreements in the Triple Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 626 I. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 626 II. Healing of the paralytic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 626 III. Stilling of the storm (Mk 4.35–41 || Mt 8.23–27 || Lk 8.22–25) 634 S. Material Common to Matthew, Mark and John . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 641 I. Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 641 II. Walking on water . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 641 T. Social Context of Responses in the Gospel Miracle Stories – Jesus my Focus on Q. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 651 U. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 656

XVIII

Table of Contents

Chapter 7: Tradition History. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 663 A. State of the Question . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 664 B. On the Terms “Jewish and Hellenistic” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 684 C. Non-Jewish Miracle Stories as Context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 684 I. Stories of miracles as deeds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 684 II. Stories of epiphanies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 689 D. Jewish Miracle Stories as Context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 692 I. Stories of epiphanies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 693 II. Other stories. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 695 III. Jewish versus non-Jewish context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 698 E. Jewish Parallels to Gospel Miracle Stories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 699 F. Jewish Parallels to Gospel Miracle Stories – Specific Stories . . . . . . . . 708 I. Stilling of the storm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 709 1. Keying to Jonah and the storm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 709 2. Keying to the crossing of the Reed Sea . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 714 G. Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 722

Chapter 8: Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 725 725

A. Results I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII.

“Miracle” and “miracle story” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “Response” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Use of responses in each gospel. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Discourse analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Focalisation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Literary revolution of the Gospels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Synoptic Problem: alternatives to the Two Document Hypothesis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Oral tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Three stories with Minor Agreements / “minor agreements” . . Contents of Q. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jewish versus non-Jewish context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “Minor” and “major” miracles in the Jewish sacred past. . . . .

725 728 731 735 735 736 737 737 739 739 740 740

Table of Contents

XIX

XIII.The stilling of the storm in light of parallel stories . . . . . . . . . . . . 741 B. Prospective. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 741 Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 743 Index of Sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 767 Index of Modern Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 793 Subject Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 799

Abbreviations AB ABRL AnBib ANTC ANTJ ASNU BBMS BDAG

BECNT BETL BibInt BINS BNTC BThSt BTS BU BZNW CahRB CBQ CBQMS CBR CGTC CNT ConBNT CurBS ExpTim EKKNT FF FN FRLANT

Anchor Bible Anchor Bible Reference Library Analecta biblica Abingdon New Testament Commentaries Arbeiten zum Neuen Testament und Judentum Acta seminarii neotestamentici upsaliensis Baker Biblical Monograph Series Danker, Frederick W., Walter Bauer, William Arndt and F. Wilbur Gingrich. 2000. A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, 3rd edn (Chicago: University of Chicago Press) Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament Bibliotheca ephemeridum theologicarum lovaniensium Biblical Interpretation Biblical Interpretation Series Black’s New Testament Commentaries Biblisch-theologische Studien Biblical Tools and Studies Biblische Untersuchungen Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche Cahiers de la Revue biblique Catholic Biblical Quarterly Catholic Biblical Quarterly Monograph Series Currents in Biblical Research Cambridge Greek Testament Commentary Commentaire du Nouveau Testament Coniectanea biblica: New Testament Series Currents in Research: Biblical Studies Expository Times

Evangelisch-katholischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament Foundations and Facets Filología Neotestamentaria Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments

XXII GBS GTA HALOT HBl HNT Hermeneia HTKNT HTR ICC Int JBL JCP JETS JR JSNTSup JTS KEK KFW1

LBRS LCL LNTS MBI MNTS NIB NICNT NIGTC NovT NovTSup NTL NTM NTS NTTS PCNT PLAL PNTC RBL RevExp RNBC SANT

Abbreviations

XXII

Guides to Biblical Scholarship Göttinger Theologische Arbeiten Köhler, Ludwig and Walter Baumgartner. 1994–2000. The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament, 5 vols (Leiden: Brill) Hermeneutische Blätter Handbuch zum Neuen Testament Hermeneia: A Critical and Historical Commentary on the Bible Herders theologischer Kommentar zum Neuen Testament Harvard Theological Review International Critical Commentary Interpretation Journal of Biblical Literature Jewish and Christian Perspectives Series Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society Journal of Religion Journal for the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series Journal of Theological Studies Kritisch-exegetischer Kommentar über das Neue Testament Zimmermann, Ruben (ed.). 2013. Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen, Band 1: Die Wunder Jesu, in collaboration with Detlev Dormeyer, Judith Hartenstein, Christian Münch, Enno Edzard Popkes and Uta Poplutz (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus) Lexham Bible Reference Series Loeb Classical Library Library of New Testament Studies Methods in Biblical Interpretation McMaster New Testament Studies The New Interpreter’s Bible New International Commentary on the New Testament New International Greek Testament Commentary Novum Testamentum Novum Testamentum Supplements New Testament Library New Testament Monographs New Testament Studies New Testament Tools and Studies Paideia: Commentaries on the New Testament Perspectives on Linguistics and Ancient Languages Pillar New Testament Commentary Review of Biblical Literature Review and Expositor Readings: A New Biblical Commentary Studien zum Alten und Neuen Testaments

XXIII SBFA SBLDS SBLRBS SBLSP SBR SemeiaSt SHBS SNT SNTSMS SNTSU SP TDNT

TUGAL WBC WMANT WUNT ZNW

Abbreviations

XXIII

Studium biblicum franciscanum: analecta Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series Society of Biblical Literature Resources for Biblical Study Society of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers Studies of the Bible and Its Reception Semeia Studies Smyth and Helwys Bible Commentary Studien zum Neuen Testament Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series Studien zum Neuen Testament und seiner Umwelt Sacra Pagina Kittel, G. and G. Friedrich (eds.). 1964–1976. Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, trans. by G. W. Bromiley. 10 vols (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans) Texte und Untersuchungen zur Geschichte der altchristlichen Literatur Word Biblical Commentary Wissenschaftliche Monographien zum Alten und Neuen Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche

List of Tables Chapter 1: Introduction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

1

Table 1: Lexemes for amazement, fear and being troubled. . . . . . . . . .

54

Chapter 2: Mark . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

59

Table 1: Relative prominence of elements in responses . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 2: Order of appearance of elements. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 3: Distribution of responses among miracle stories, noting type of emotion. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 4: Distribution of responses in miracle stories within sections of the narrative . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

103 107 128 130

Chapter 3: Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 Table 1: Relative prominence of elements in responses . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 2: Order of appearance of elements. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 3: Distribution of responses among miracle stories, noting type of emotion. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 4: Distribution of responses in miracle stories within sections of the narrative . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 5: Outlier responses in Matthew for emotions and miracle story types . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

202 205 220 222 259

Chapter 4: Luke . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 Table 1: Relative prominence of elements in responses . . . . . . . . . . . . 300 Table 2: Order of appearance of elements. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 306 Table 3: Distribution of responses among miracle stories, noting type of emotion. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 325

XXVI

List of Tables

Table 4: Distribution of responses in miracle stories within sections of the narrative . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 327

Chapter 5: John. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 399 Table 1: Relative prominence of elements in responses . . . . . . . . . . . . 418 Table 2: Order of appearance of elements. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 420 Table 3: Belief language in key reactions and responses . . . . . . . . . . . 432

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels . . . . . . . . . . . . . 481 Table 1: Frequency of miracle stories according to types . . . . . . . . . . . Table 2: Frequency of miracle stories with responses according to types of stories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 3: Stories with multiple responses versus stories with responses Table 4: Elements in responses for parallel stories – Synoptics . . . . . . Table 5: Elements in responses for parallel stories – Synoptics and John. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 6: Exceptions to trend of emotion types and miracle types as MAs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 7: Matthew’s pre-nuclear participle for visual sensation in parallel contexts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 8: Stilling of the storm: speech as a post-nuclear participle only Table 9: Order for collocation of emotion and speech . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 10: Order for visual sensation and speech in parallel contexts . . . Table 11: Visual sensation first in a distinct series of events . . . . . . . . . Table 12: Characters who are respondents in multiple stories . . . . . . . . Table 13: Responses by established followers versus others, according to miracle types. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 14: Characters in responses found in two types of miracle stories Table 15: Types of emotions per miracle context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 16: Responses in private and other settings in two types of miracle stories. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 17: Private versus other settings in two types of miracle stories with responses. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 18: Alternative forms of focalisation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 19: Location of response with respect to the miracle . . . . . . . . . . Table 20: Location of response with respect to episode’s end . . . . . . . . Table 21: Initial connectives in responses for parallel synoptic stories . Table 22: Relation of response to episode’s peak . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 23: Relation of peak to response(s) for parallel synoptic stories. .

535 537 539 543 545 549 554 556 558 561 562 565 568 569 572 574 575 576 577 578 582 586 587

List of Tables

XXVII

Table 24: Importance of emotional criterion for distinguishing story types . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 25: Distribution of miracle types, noting response emotions . . . . Table 26: Stories with positive responses in pre- and post-resurrection contexts: each gospel individually . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 27: Unique stories with positive responses in pre- and postresurrection contexts: all gospels collectively. . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 28: Unique stories with positive responses in pre- and postresurrection contexts: all gospels collectively, with heightened criteria. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 29: Responses in the healing of the paralytic episode . . . . . . . . . . Table 30: Comparison of Mt 9.8, Mk 2.12c, Lk 5.25–26 . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 31: Responses in the stilling of the storm episode . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 32: Comparison of Mt 8.23–27, Mk 4.35–41, Lk 8.22–25 . . . . . . Table 33: Responses (initial) in the walking on water episode . . . . . . . . Table 34: Comparison of Mt 14.26, Mk 6.49–50b, Jn 6.19b–c . . . . . . . . Table 35: Second responses in the walking on water episode (Mt and Mk only) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

588 591 595 596 598 628 629 636 638 644 645 647

Chapter 7: Tradition History. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 663 Cotter’s non-Jewish miracle stories and responses . . . . . . . . . Responses in non-Jewish stories of miraculous deeds . . . . . . Responses in non-Jewish stories of epiphanies . . . . . . . . . . . . Responses in Jewish stories of epiphanies – Tanakh. . . . . . . . Responses in Jewish stories of other miracles – Tanakh . . . . . Responses in the “major” and “minor” miracle stories of Elijah and Elisha . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Table 7: Responses in the miracle stories of Elijah and Elisha in other versions – minor miracles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Table 1: Table 2: Table 3: Table 4: Table 5: Table 6:

685 687 690 694 697 700 705

List of Figures Figure 1: Miracle stories with responses – absolute numbers. . . . . . . . . Figure 2: Miracle stories with responses – percentages . . . . . . . . . . . . . Figure 3: Responses with the most common elements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Figure 4: Amazement versus fear in responses per miracle story type . . Figure 5: Amazement versus fear in responses per miracle type and respondent . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Figure 6: Connectives introducing responses, with attention to development marking . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

534 534 540 547 571 580

Chapter 1

Introduction It is clear from even a cursory look at the four canonical gospels that stories about the miraculous are not only ubiquitous but also integral to each of these texts. By miraculous I mean the deeds of power performed by Jesus and also related occurrences, such as his transformation into a glorious state, uncanny appearances by him subsequent to his resurrection, the appearances of angels in relation to his birth and to his resurrection and pronouncements about him by a voice from heaven accompanied by various remarkable visible phenomena. Among the features that link such stories together is the frequently occurring motif of various individuals’ and groups’ responses to the miracles. Though I will define the term “response” in more detail later, for the moment it is sufficient to state that with this term I refer to feelings, cognitive activity, words, physical actions and the like that people experience or express as a result of their knowledge of a miracle. What function(s) were the responses intended to serve in the respective narratives of the Gospels and in the earlier traditions about Jesus, both written and oral, upon which the Gospels drew? Do the responses simply serve as a kind of round of applause to validate Jesus? Or do they have more specific narrative functions? The work of two formidable scholars, Rudolf Bultmann and Martin Dibelius, has provided leadership at the beginning of the twentieth century to the guild of New Testament scholars on how to understand the significance of the responses. The narration of figures’ responses, they allege, serves to magnify the miracle worker and, as part of the proposed general propagandistic agenda of miracle stories, seeks to win converts. Their form-critical work has been expanded upon and to some extent modified by redaction critics in the third quarter of the century, notably by Gerd Theissen, who returns to the question of form criticism as well. But the basic trend set by Bultmann and Dibelius has not been altered. In their view the responses serve to magnify the miracle worker. Strangely, despite the rise of narrative criticism in the 1980s, which challenges the tendency of form and redaction critics towards an atomising approach to features in a given gospel, and its subsequent widely felt influence on the study the Gospels, there remains a tendency to treat the responses monolithically. The vestiges of the form criticism of Bultmann and Dibelius continue to exert their influence. There are occasional exceptions to the trend. But, by and large, when it comes to the responses both the interests and approach of form criticism and of its cousin, redaction criticism, continue to

2

Chapter 1: Introduction

rule the literary studies of the miracle stories in the Gospels, even for those who are interested in these texts in their entirety in their final form. The rule of form and redaction criticism goes unspoken. The form- and redaction-critical paradigm has rightly received criticism also with regards to its understanding of the social context and manner in which traditions about Jesus in the earliest communities of followers developed. Inasmuch as the miracle stories are concerned, criticism has focused on the undue concentration on non-Jewish social contexts and sources and the use of problematic constructs. Other criticisms pertain to the sharp delineation of almost hermetically sealed trajectories of tradition for narrative and speech material for Jesus. Yet when it comes to responses such criticism has not been followed up on. This statement is true, oddly, despite the fact that Bultmann and Theissen, admittedly, have not found adequate parallels in nonJewish sources for responses and have given only limited attention to responses in the Hebrew Bible and Second Temple Jewish literature. Given their ubiquity in the Gospels and potential rarity in contemporary sources, the possibility must be considered that the responses in miracle stories of the Jesus tradition may evidence features that are uniquely characteristic of it. Furthermore, use of the response motif may stem from a period prior to the written source material behind the Gospels and, if so, from a Jewish social context situated in Palestine. The present study aims to investigate the motif of responses from two principal angles. First, the potentially diverse ways it is employed in each gospel as the respective narrative unfolds (narrative criticism) deserve treatment at length. Not just individual miracle stories on their own need examination, but also their relation to one another and to the overall shape and logic of the narrative. The topic has not been addressed before. Second, the similarities and differences between the Gospels in the use of the motif will be investigated with a view to clarifying their interrelations (source criticism). Possibilities of both literary dependence and shared oral traditions are to be given due attention. The question of social setting – whether Jewish and/or broader Hellenistic – for the development of miracle stories in the Jesus tradition comes into play here. The question will be important also for a third investigation, preliminary in nature, of potential influences (Jewish or nonJewish or a mixture of both) on the story-telling patterns found in the traditions behind the Gospels (tradition-historical criticism). I offer one final note before addressing the history of research in more detail. I use the terms “miraculous” and “miracle” above with caution, aware of the intellectual freight they carry, resulting from use in contexts from the Enlightenment until the present day. But no other term than “miracle” seems adequate for use as a rubric under which I can group the phenomena I have listed in the opening sentence. I will provide, below, a fuller justification for use of the term.

History of Research on Responses

3

A. History of Research on Responses I. Establishing the paradigm for a form-critical, also redaction-critical, approach to responses 1. From David Friedrich Strauss to Richard Reitzenstein The Enlightenment spawned naturalistic explanations of the events ostensibly behind the gospel miracle stories. The watershed work of David Friedrich Strauss (1837), observing the absence of Jesus’ miracles in the Epistles, argues that they are later mythical elements added to Christian tradition. Contemporary Jewish expectation of the Messiah performing wondrous deeds greater than those of Elijah and Elisha was the catalyst, he argues, for Christian invention of the miracle stories. Historical interests henceforth give way to cultural and literary concerns. At the end of the nineteenth century papyrological and archaeological discoveries, especially at Epidaurus, 1 provided an impetus for the idea that the miracle stories in the Gospels had their closest parallel in non-Jewish, GrecoRoman sources. Supporting this line of thinking is Richard Reitzenstein’s (1910) construct of the θεῖος ἀνήρ (divine man): a Greco-Roman type who, on the basis of higher nature and virtue, has profound knowledge and vision and can work miracles. Reitzenstein’s (1906) study of literary parallels to the miracle stories of the Gospels curiously ignores the Hebrew Bible and Septuagint. 2 Rather, he focuses on the aretalogy: “a miracle story or a collection of miracle stories” whose “primary use... was praise or propaganda for the [nonJewish] deity supposed to have done such deeds.” 3 The purpose of the miracle stories in the Gospels, according to Reitzenstein, is to sing the praise of Jesus, the θεῖος ἀνήρ, and foster belief in him. 2. Martin Dibelius and Rudolf Bultmann Martin Dibelius (1919, 21931, 61971) and Rudolf Bultmann (1921, 101995), at the beginning of the twentieth century, made foundational for gospel studies both the θεῖος-ἀνήρ construct and the proposed propagandistic nature of the

1

Excavations at Epidaurus under the direction of Panagiotis Kavvadias were begun in 1879. The inscriptions in the Sanctuary of Asclepios there are of special relevance. 2 For a stinging criticism of Reitzenstein in this regard, see Bremmer (2013: 18). 3 Kee (1973: 409), citing with approval Smith (1971: 176–177; italics mine). Bremmer (2013: 17) observes that, since, “Reitzenstein was not very good in defining his subjects,” it was left to later scholars to define what aretalogies are: “mostly the epigraphical collections of the healing or punishment miracles of Asclepius or Sarapis and the cultural innovations of Isis.”

4

Chapter 1: Introduction

gospel miracle stories. 4 To win converts, they maintain, stories were told orally about Jesus’ mighty deeds, through which he was portrayed as superior among the presumed host of contemporary, divine miracle workers. These stories were brought together to form collections, aretalogies championing Jesus. The aretalogies were then mined as source material by the Gospels, notably Mark and John. Dibelius’ and Bultmanns’ individual systems of categorisation of those gospel stories concerned with miracles and their particular concepts of individuals’ and groups’ responses in such stories, despite their differences, support their respective cases for the paradigm. Dibelius is clearest on this point. First, his understanding of what constitutes a miracle story is to an appreciable extent predicated on the presumed propagandistic purpose of the episodes. To draw out this point, I begin with some aspects of methodology and categorisation that the form critics hold in common. Each of the scholars, though dividing up the greater body of material found in the Gospels along different lines, defines one of their respective categories such that it consists only of episodes narrating Jesus’ mighty deeds – “Novellen” (Dibelius) and “Wundergeschichten” (Bultmann), in each case roughly equal to what English-speaking scholarship calls “miracle stories.” 5 Just miracles performed by Jesus are in view. A threefold pattern is observed: a description of the problem or distress; a description of the action that procures the miracle; a conclusion, whose main function is to confirm the success of the miracle. Yet, neither scholar includes all stories of Jesus’ mighty deeds in their respective categories. For example, Mk 3.1–6 is excluded by both form critics, since the healing here evidently serves as a backdrop for a controversy, involving a didactic point made by Jesus. Still, Dibelius’ “Novellen” includes fewer stories concerned with Jesus’ mighty deeds than does Bultmann’s comparable category. 6 Here Dibelius’ criteria reveal how extensively the θεῖος-ἀνήρ construct informs his scheme of categorisation. He places some stories of mighty deeds among the “Paradigmen,” namely short episodes that are rounded off at beginning and end, have an edificatory style, focus on a saying of Jesus and, in essence, end on a thought useful for preaching (Dibelius 1971 [1959]: 55). “Novellen,” in con4

Note Dibelius’ book underwent revision in only the second (Dibelius 1933) and third (Dibelius 1959) editions. Bultmann’s book was revised in only the second edition (1931), though the tenth (1995) edition contains an epilogue by Gerd Theissen. 5 “Novellen” is translated with “tales,” “Wundergeschichten” with “miracle stories.” Unless otherwise noted, in what follows the English translation of Bultmann is cited directly from John Marsh’s translation (Bultmann 1963), based on Bultmann (21931). The same is true for Bertram Lee Woolf’s translation (Dibelius 1971), based on Dibelius (21933), wherever no significant difference occurs in the later revised edition (Dibelius 31959). See further, above, n. 4. 6 Dibelius (1971 [1959]: 51–52) later comments openly on this difference between him and Bultmann.

History of Research on Responses

5

trast are longer, more detailed, focused on the miracle itself, “secular” and serve the purpose of winning converts. Second, Dibelius’ concept of the narrated responses to Jesus’ mighty deeds clearly fits the θεῖος-ἀνήρ paradigm. Jesus’ healings and the like are, to Dibelius’ (1971 [1959]: 67) mind, often followed by “chorische Akklamationen des Wundertäters.” 7 This laudatory chorus motif, referred to in brief by “Chor-Schluß,” purportedly concludes the respective episode. Dibelus (1971 [1959]: 42, 54) understands the motif to be primarily verbal (“in feierndem Wort des Volkschors”), though also to some extent marked by amazement (“bestaunt und preist”). 8 He is not precise on the matter. At any rate, the choruses occur not only in some “Novellen,” but also in various miraculous “Paradigmen” as well (Dibelius 1971 [1959]: 54–55, 67, 71–72). 9 Yet, the chorus ending fits the “Novellen” best, he avers, since the concluding thought is not a preach-able point but a comment on the greatness of the miracle worker: “die Chöre… weisen… auf die Größe der Tat und die Bedeutung des Täters….” (Dibelius 1971 [1959]: 55). 10 The praises of the miracle worker narrated within a “Novelle” are envisioned as working upon the hearers of the story, bringing about a similar attitude in them (Dibelius 1971 [1959]: 56): …die Wundererzählungen der Umwelt und die urchristlichen Novellen, die in solchen Zuruf ausklingen, wollen Mission treiben, wollen für den Gott oder den Menschen, von dem sie berichten, werben. 11

Likewise, Dibelius (1971 [1959]: 94) sees the narration of amazement as inspiring the faith of the listeners: Der Glaube, den die Wundererzählung auslöst, beginnt mit dem zum Wunder gehörigen „Staunen“ oder „Sich-Entsetzen“…. 12

The envisioned effect of the responses, then, is part and parcel of the overall purpose of the “Novellen” (1971 [1959]: 93): Wohl aber konnte man durch die Erzählung solcher Novellen die Überlegenheit des „Herrn Jesus“ erweisen und die Konkurenz aller anderen Kultgötter aus dem Felde schlagen. 13 7

“chorus[es] of acclamation for the miracle-worker” “choral ending”; “approving words of the people”; “expressing wonder and praise” – on amazement see also Dibelius (1971 [1959]: 94). 9 Dibelius (1971 [1959]: 42; cf. 54) claims that “Paradigmen” end on a word or deed of Jesus or the approving words of the people. 10 “[c]horuses… point… to the greatness of the deed and the significance of the doer…” 11 “…the miracle stories of the surrounding world, and the primitive Christian ‘Tales’ which end with such an exclamation have a missionary purpose[:] to labour either for the [g]od or the man of whom they report.” 12 “The faith which the miracle-story arouses begins with the ‘astonishment’ or ‘amazement’ proper to the miracle….” 13 “But by telling such Tales, the pre-eminence of the ‘Lord Jesus’ could be demonstrated and all other rival gods who were worshipped driven from the field.” 8

6

Chapter 1: Introduction

In summary, to Dibelius’ mind miracle stories in general and the supposed Chor-Schluß – I will use this as a technical term in what follows, in italics, without translation – in particular serve to magnify Jesus and to foster believe in and praise for him among those listening to the stories told orally. Yet challenges immediately arise for Dibelius’ scheme. While later scholarship will expose broader methodological and conceptual problems underlying the form-critical enterprise, I note here some other issues specific to responses, inherent in the nature of the gospel miracle stories themselves. The first point is that Dibelius’ scheme already admits that the alleged “Paradigmen,” which serve purposes of preaching, contain the said responses to miracles. Moreover, one encounters the narration of responses to miraculous occurrences in actually four or five of the six categories of material that Dibelius divides the Gospels up into, though he does not notice this point. Not just “Paradigmen” and “Novellen,” but also episodes placed under the rubric “der Mythus,” “Legende” and possibly even “die Leidensgeschichte” narrate similar sorts of groups’ and individuals’ responses. 14 The transfiguration – one of only a few stories categorised within “der Mythus” by Dibelius, who discusses the Markan version – describes the extreme emotion and speech of the disciples upon encountering Jesus in a transformed state (Mk 9.5–6). Dibelius (1971 [1959]: 275–276), commenting on the reaction of Peter and the others, does not observe that the language used is akin to the proposed choral acclamations, filled with amazement, elsewhere. 15 The Markan “Legende vom leeren Grab,” the alleged original ending of that gospel, also contains a description of characters’ amazement and fear and, with an ironic twist, their silence in response to the encounter with an angel and his relating of Jesus’ miraculous resurrection from the dead (Mk 16.8). 16 Dibelius’ (1971 [1959]: 190–192) reference to the women’s actions fails to note the similarities, given the variation on a theme, between the literary motif here and the alleged chorus endings elsewhere. If joy, not just amazement, and praise of God, not just affirmation of Jesus, could be taken to be a Chor-Schluß, then the Lukan Easter story contains one (Lk 24.52–53). Dibelius (1971 [1959]: 200) makes no mention of the disciples’ joy and praise at the conclusion of the story, though this response to Jesus’ resurrection and ascension bares similarities to the responses to healings and the like elsewhere. 17 Equally significant, not all of the material Dibelius cites for choral acclamations are of the same quality. He attempts to explain why demonstratively

14

“mythology”; “legends”; “passion story” Cf., e.g., Mk 2.12; 7.36–37. Note, recognising Peter’s failure to appreciate Jesus’ identity, as Dibelius does, should also draw to attention the incomplete nature of statements and questions about Jesus in responses elsewhere, as in healings (e.g. Mk 1.27–28). 16 “legend of the empty grave” 17 Cf., e.g., Lk 5.25–26; 7.16–17 – also, 13.13, 17; 17.15–16; 18.43. 15

History of Research on Responses

7

positive choral endings, taking the crowd near Nain’s proclamation of Jesus as a prophet (Lk 7.16) as a prime example, are rare. Dibelius’ (1971 [1959]: 72) explanation is unsatisfying: the Jesus tradition is still “shy” (“noch spröde verhält”), he avers, of a more elevated style, entailed in such endings. But his admission is already indicative that something in the paradigm he advocates is awry. Importantly, some responses to miracles are less positive than Dibelius’ propagandistic Chor-Schluß construct would allow for. For example, he fails to observe the difference between responses containing proclamations and those marked by questioning. Dibelius does not observe how the disciples’ fearful and bewildered question about Jesus in response to the stilling of the storm is qualitatively inadequate. Those listening must themselves supply the answer to the question that the disciples raise. Dibelius (1971 [1959]: 91–92; cf. 77) recognises this point, but does not intuit the degradation of the disciples’ response that is entailed, when compared to others, say the fearful proclamation of the crowd near Nain, Dibelius’ flagship positive Chor-Schluß. Related, Dibelius does not give adequate attention to potential differences corresponding to which figure responds – a point especially pertinent to group respondents versus individuals. Finally, Dibelius’ approach is reductionist in that all responses – whether verbal or emotional – are taken to be a single phenomenon, with one sole characteristic and a single purpose. Bultmann also takes the miracle stories to have an intrinsic missionary goal, with the responses they contain serving that purpose. He sees the stories as not, for example, biographical or didactic in nature but “proofs” of Jesus’ power: “…Erweise… seiner messianischen Kraft bzw. seiner göttlichen Macht” (Bultmann 1995 [1931]: 234). 18 Whereas Dibelius provides just one overall category for miracle stories, Bultmann (1995 [1931]: 247–249) gives four subcategories: “Dämonenbeschwörungen,” “andere Heilungsgeschichten,” “Totenerweckungen” and “Naturwunder.” 19 This subdivision is accepted, at times with minor structural or conceptual differences, by the majority of later scholarship. 20 Exorcisms and other healings are common, while nature miracles are few, because of how the former pertain to the per18

“proofs… of his messianic authority, or his divine power” “Exorcisms of demons;” “other healings”; “resurrections from the dead”; “nature miracles” 20 Cotter (1999: 4) accepts Bultmann’s scheme for “Jesus miracles” as well as “any miracle story, no matter what its provenance,” though subsuming the “few raising of the dead stories” under healings, resulting in three categories. Blackburn (2011: 114, 127 n. 39) accepts the four categories, but subdivides “nature miracles,” whose terminology he has reservation about, into: gift miracles, rescue miracles, epiphanies and punishment miracles. Blackburn’s (2011: 126, n. 15) one epiphany (Mk 6.45–52 || Mt 14.22–33 || Jn 6.16–21) is, to Bultmann’s (1995 [1931]: 231) mind, best understood in terms of the nature miracle: “das Seewandeln” (walking on the water). 19

8

Chapter 1: Introduction

ceived function of the stories. Given their allegedly automatic nature, exorcisms, as key proofs, proliferate: “Deshalb stehen auch die Dämonenaustreibungen an erster Stelle als Hauptbeweise der Messianität Jesu” (Bultmann 1995 [1931]: 234). 21 For Bultmann the propagandistic nature of the miracle stories is seen especially in the development of the tradition about Jesus from individual units, through collections of like material, to written gospels and related documents. The form-critical enterprise, it should be noted, is predicated on a specific theory of the interrelations of the Synoptic Gospels, called the Two Document Hypothesis, which assumes that Mark and the hypothetical document Q (from German Quelle), understood as consisting mainly of sayings and roughly equivalent to the material shared by Luke and Matthew (but not Mark), write first, independent of one another and that both of them are in turn used by Luke and Matthew, independently. While both Bultmann and Dibelius distinguish between material ostensibly focused on speech and narrative respectively, Bultmann makes a sharp, categorical bifurcation of the entire Jesus tradition along these lines: “die Worte Jesus” versus “der Erzählungsstoff.” 22 Just as aretalogies are formed from individual miracle stories, collections of sayings material also come together. The presumed end result of such trajectories are Mark and Q. The latter is a written collection of sayings by Jesus. The former is a narrative account, heavily punctuated by miracle stories. Thus, Bultmann (1995 [1931]: 256), in attempting to explain why miracle stories are rare in Q but numerous in the Gospels, consciously invokes the θεῖος-ἀνήρ construct: Bei Mk ist er ein θεῖος ἄνθρωπος, ja mehr: der über die Erde wandelnde Gottessohn. Diese mythische Beleuchtung, in die bei Mk Jesus gerückt ist…, kommt zwar zum großen Teil auf die Rechnung des Schriftstellers, zum Teil aber auch auf die Rechnung seines Stoffes und zwar vernehmlich der Wundergeschichten. 23

Mark and Q, then, each serve as the poster child of two allegedly different and unrelated streams of development in traditions about Jesus. Bultmann’s strict conceptual division between speech and narrative materials in the Jesus tradition has had a wide-ranging influence on subsequent scholarship. The responses to miracles narrated in the stories, too, fit within Bultmann’s concept of their propagandistic nature. It seems that Bultmann – though his writing on the matter is not clear – understands miracle stories to 21 “It is for this reason that the exorcisms of demons are in the first place the chief demonstrations of the Messiahship of Jesus.” 22 “the sayings of Jesus”; “the narrative material” 23 “In Mark he is a θεῖος ἄνθρωπος, indeed more: he is the very Son of God walking the earth. This mythological light in which Jesus is set by Mark… is there [in large] part on the author’s own account but also in part on account of his material, and especially of the miracle stories.”

History of Research on Responses

9

have been composed by drawing on a prototypical, ordered set of components, related to but distinct from the threefold pattern mentioned above. His analysis of Mk 5.1–21 and parallels provides what may be meant as a paradigmatic analysis of a miracle story, not just an exorcism. The story, claims Bultmann (1995 [1931]: 224), contains “die typischen Züge der Dämonenaustreibungen,” all six of which are “zwar in charakteristischer Abwandlung.” 24 The sixth feature is “Eindruck auf die Zuschauer.” 25 For no other “Heilungswunder” story does he provide a longer list of typical features. 26 Analysis elsewhere presents a problem, though, as a conflicting picture is given. His first example of “die typischen Züge einer Wundergeschichte, speziell einer Dämonenbeschwörung” provides a shorter list, with just four features. 27 Here, too, however the final feature is “Eindruck auf die Zuschauer.” 28 I will use this phrase in italics or, more commonly, the single word Eindruck as a technical term in what follows. Given the two instances mentioned, still it should be noted that Bultmann’s Eindruck, like Dibelius’ Chor-Schluß, is not seen as a constituent part of a miracle story. A key aspect of the motif for Bultmann would seem to be its location at the end of a story. 29 On this conception, then, he concurs with Dibelius, though Bultmann is not more precise than to say that Eindruck auf die Zuschauer is the last of six or four typical features in the stories. Bultmann does not – nor Dibelius for that matter – catalogue instances when the motif appears earlier or when some other bit of text, following just on the heels of the motif, actually closes a miracle story. Inasmuch as Eindruck is characteristic of miracle stories, Bultmann affirms that the motif, like the type of story in which it appears, advances a propagandistic agenda. Narrating Eindruck serves both to extol the power demonstrated by the wonder worker and to elicit faith (Bultmann 1995 [1931]: 241):

24

“the typical feature[s] of exorcism of demons”; “in their characteristic order” “impression on the spectators” (Note that Marsh [Bultmann 1963: 224] gives only five features, combining [inadvertently?] Bultmann’s fifth and sixth feature.) 26 “healing miracle” 27 Bultmann (1995 [1931]: 224). “the typical characteristics of a miracle story, and especially of an exorcism” 28 Bultmann (1995 [1931]: 230) refers to this feature as typical, also, in his first example of a “Naturwunder,” though he does not refer to it again in subsequent examples, where it appears. 29 That the feature appears last, also, in his more detailed, accumulative list, concerned with all kinds of “Wundergeschichten,” indicates that Bultmann (1995 [1931]: 236–241) understands the feature to appear commonly at a story’s close. 25

10

Chapter 1: Introduction

Endlich ist stilgemäß, dass der Eindruck des Wunders auf das anwesende Publikum beschrieben wird; dadurch wird sowohl das παράδοξον des Wunders betont wie auch eine Beglaubigung geboten. 30

For Bultmann Eindruck is primarily emotional. 31 Words for amazement, fear and being troubled are indiscriminately listed together. Here he homogenises. He refers briefly to short, generic descriptions of praise. Citing Erik Peterson (1926), he states that in the Gospels there is no “Akklamationsformel”: a stereotyped verbal utterance praising God for a miracle. Yet he does not discuss the utterances of, for example, crowds that are present. Words and phrases pertaining to verbal utterance – δοξάσαι, δοῦναι αἶνον – are listed as, seemingly, functional equivalents to the emotional, more “charakteristisch” terms for Eindruck mentioned above. Similarly, one instance of χαρῆναι is included in the list of terms for verbal utterance, without indicating awareness of the difference in kind of response. As mentioned, he hints at the possibility of belief being an aspect of Eindruck. 32 Problems arise for Bultmann’s scheme, just as they do for that of Dibelius. For, first, Bultmann too fails to note how episodes in both of the narrative categories he fixes (“Wundergeschichten” and “Geschichtserzählung und Legende”), not just the miracle stories, contain Eindruck. 33 The transfiguration and appearances of angels and Jesus following his resurrection are placed in the second subcategory. As I have already treated, aspects of some of the relevant stories which depict extreme emotional responses to miraculous occurrences involved, I will not belabour the point here. But I will address one example where Bultmann’s blind spot is evident, for a second problem in his scheme comes to light here, namely the failure to see when Eindruck is less than purely positive. Bultmann (1995 [1931]: 280) claims that Peter’s lack of knowledge and related fear at Jesus’ transfiguration in Mark (9.6) stems from “die Verlegenheit des Ver[fasser]s,” arising from this legendary story being situated in Jesus’ Galilean ministry. 34 Yet, he fails to note similar instances of insufficient knowledge and fear or amazement in response to miracles elsewhere in this gospel, for material Bultmann labels “Wundergeschichten.” 35 In this way Bultmann homogenises the response data in stories of 30

“Finally, it accords with the style of miracle stories that the impression the miracle creates upon the crowd that sees it is reported; by this means the παράδοξον of the miracle is stressed at the same time as belief in the miracle is demanded.” 31 Bultmann (1995 [1931]: 241) lists a number of characteristic words, all of which pertain to feelings. 32 Bultmann (1995 [1931]: 241) is aware that belief can be an important aspect in the stories, but does not expand on how this is communicated other than, apparently, potentially through the emotional feature that he terms Eindruck. 33 “miracle stories”; “historical stories and legends” 34 “the author’s embarrassment” 35 Mk 6.49–50, 51–52; cf. 1.27; 4.41.

History of Research on Responses

11

mighty deeds, just as he does in terms of the type of emotion involved. Bultmann’s focus on group respondents, as in the case of Dibelius, is another part of a homogenising tendency. Were one to give more attention to individuals who respond in some stories, variation in the descriptions of responses would more quickly come to light. A similar problem arises from Bultmann’s fixation on observers of miracles, encapsulated in the term Eindruck auf die Zuschauer. Paying attention to who responds in a given story, whether a recipient of a miracle or a mere observer – or in some cases those who only hear about a miracle at a distance – would help one notice potential variations in descriptions of responses. Finally, Bultmann is reductionist, in assuming that the key, unifying characteristic in each response, whether emotions (amazement, fear, joy) or speech (praise, questions or other statements), is that an impression has been made on the respondents. By impression, he seems to mean that the respondents positively appraise Jesus, just as their valuation of him increases. Various integral aspects of the form-critical approach will be subjected to rigorous reappraisal by subsequent scholarship. While such historical developments will be traced, below, I summarise at this juncture the problematic assumptions. As I have mentioned, the θεῖος-ἀνήρ construct, presuming a fixed term and corresponding unified concept of divine humans – the cornerstone of form-critical study of the miracle stories –, will be undermined. A core presupposition of the approach adopted by Dibelius and Bultmann is that each miracle story – or any such unit of narrative or sayings material, with the larger passion narrative being a singular exception in the tradition – should be addressed in isolation, using the text of the respective gospel essentially as it is. 36 It is to be interpreted detached not only from its current location in a given gospel but also from what might presumably be known about Jesus by those telling and hearing the stories in the performance of oral tradition. Crucial in this regard is their vision of a simple linear development of the Jesus tradition from isolated, individual units, through collections of like units, to the production of the Gospels, with little change in the material. The form critic, they assume, can access the oral form of a given story simply by removing allegedly insubstantial, easily recognisable additions from the pens of the compilers of the Gospels. Also important is their understanding of the origins of the stories about Jesus’ mighty deeds, many of which were ostensibly simply adapted from presumed folk traditions or created on an analogy with the miracle stories of competitor gods and divine men. 37 When Bultmann (1995 [1931]: 245–254) makes these claims, he concludes by insisting 36 For a recent critical assessment of the form-critical approach, see Eve (2014: 15–32); cf. Theissen (1995). 37 Some miracle stories, it is posited, may have developed from a saying of Jesus (e.g. Bultmann 1955 [1931] 246).

12

Chapter 1: Introduction

that the stories may have entered the Jesus tradition equally during the “stage” of oral tradition or the later “stage” of gospel writing. The severe problems inherent in examining miracle stories in isolation will be exposed successively during the twentieth century and into the present one, involving new methodologies and conceptual frameworks – redaction criticism, narrative criticism and developments in understanding of oral tradition and social memory. Above all, later scholarship will highlight the naivety of Dibelius and Bultmann in underestimating the creativity of the author-redactors of the Gospels. Despite these developments, however, the form critics’ approach to the role of responses in miracle stories will be generally assumed, with only little revision. Another core assumption is that non-Jewish sources provide better comparative material for the gospel miracle stories than Jewish sources. This assumption will be fiercely put to the test, beginning later in the twentieth century. Yet no attention will be given to the responses in miracle stories in that regard. This inattention remains a peculiarity in scholarship, given the remarkable fact that the form critics find so few parallels in the non-Jewish literature upon which the form-critical enterprise is based for the emotional – and to a large extent also the verbal – responses in “miracle stories.” Four further problematic key elements in the form-critical paradigm are their understanding of: genre, development of the Jesus tradition, oral tradition and Jesus, the historical person. The form critics subscribe to the notion of a pure form (“die reine Form”) for particular types of material, including stories. This approach fuels their homogenising tendency, placing emphasis on what is presumed to be shared by, in our case, numerous stories of the miraculous. Later scholarship will challenge the existence of a miracle story genre before a more flexible understanding of genre is adopted. Still, even then, the important task of examining the recurrent responses in a variety of types of episodes in the Gospels, discussed briefly above, will be foregone. Various aspects of the form critics’ depiction of development from isolated individual units about Jesus, through collections of like material, to gospels will come under fire. Here I note that as criticism of the standard solution to the Synoptic Problem will rise, beginning in the middle of the twentieth century, the notion that Q is merely a collection of sayings will be duly challenged. This challenge, accompanied by more sophisticated, nuanced approaches to oral tradition, will threaten the form critics’ simplistic conceptualisation of quasi-evolutionary, aggregating processes in the tradition about Jesus. Unfortunately, attention will not be drawn to the presence of a response and related material in the narration of miracles in Q. As for oral tradition, the form critics propose: anonymous formation and transmission of oral tradition about Jesus, accompanied by the possibility of seemingly unbridled creativity; the tradition’s origin as “isolated units of tradition with no essential chronological relation or organizing framework” (Eve 2014: 31); the

History of Research on Responses

13

regular employment of individual traditions without any context or in the same context; uniformity in oral performance; and no media differences between speech and writing. By the end of the twentieth century this host of issues pertaining to oral tradition, along with the form critics’ model of folklore, will be found problematic. Despite responses being a dominant feature in gospel miracle stories, they are not studied for the light they might shed on the performances of these stories in oral tradition as reconceived in modern approaches. Finally, form criticism as an approach puts little stock in searching for the Jesus of history. Beyond this basic agnosticism, the tradition of miracles associated with Jesus is taken to be primarily an accretion from external influences and historically suspect. Dibelius assigns greater historical value to the sayings of Jesus over miracle stories in the tradition, while Bultmann does not place much confidence in either. During the final third of the twentieth century, a critical mass of scholarship will form that shall take Jesus to be a known worker of miracles during his lifetime. Some will even see the miracles as a key aspect of his activity. Despite this new perspective, no one will examine the responses in the gospel miracle stories for features that might be unique or uniquely characteristic of the Jesus tradition, possibly thereby revealing something of how Jesus’ earliest followers understood the miracles associated with him. The approaches of Dibelius and Bultmann, generally, to the stories in the Gospels about Jesus’ mighty deeds and other miracles and, in specific, to the responses narrated in such episodes have made a great impact on scholarship. First, their monographs on form criticism have been widely received, being revised and reprinted throughout the majority (Dibelius) or entirety (Bultmann) of the twentieth century. Second, as their approaches converge in many respects, a cumulative force for the form-critical perspective is felt. Third, where the scholars differ, reception of their ideas can maintain the alleged propagandistic nature of stories about Jesus’ mighty deeds. For, while Bultmann’s scheme of dividing up the material in the Gospels has been accepted along broad lines by the majority of subsequent scholars, 38 the style of an individual miraculous episode may be understood as “novellistisch” or “paradigmenhaft,” in line with Dibelius’ categories (Theissen 1995: 415). 39 Fourth, at the same time that their approaches gain dominance in the first half of the twentieth century, various influences move scholarly attention away from the miracle stories, which were relegated to religions- and formgeschichtliche study. 40 38

As an example of a difference, Theissen (1974) considers Mk 3.1–6 to be a “Normenwunder” (rule miracle). 39 “‘Novelle’-like”; “‘Paradigma’-like” 40 Bultmann’s (1933: 221) existential theology (cf. Martin Heidegger) was decidedly disinterested not only in miracles contra naturam but also in historical events: “Es gibt

14

Chapter 1: Introduction

3. Kenzo Tagawa The first planks in the form-critical platform to be challenged are the ideas that one can reach back through the Gospels with little effort to access oral tradition about Jesus and that the author-redactors of the Gospels were lacking in creativity. At the middle of the twentieth century, the interests of a subsequent generation, notably Günther Bornkamm, Willi Marxen and Hans Conzelmann, turn to the activities of the redactors of the Gospels. It is again in fashion to consider individual stories of the miraculous in a given gospel in light of other material in it, including similar stories. The revolution, however, is only partial. For the focus is not on the stories themselves per se, but on those stories or parts of stories that seem to be unique to the gospel in question and, it is assumed, thereby stem from the redactor’s hand specifically. The interest in redaction themes demonstrates a tendency towards reductionism, like that of the form-critical predecessors, though now applied to a new task. Beyond the said differences, many assumptions of form criticism regarding miracle stories are adopted wholesale. In this climate Kenzo Tagawa (1966: 92–121; cf. 89–92) produces a thirty-page, redactional-critical study of “la formule finale des récits de miracles,” centred on Mark, yet considering Matthew and Luke also. The study is to date one of just two sustained discussions of responses in stories of Jesus’ mighty deeds, though it is little known. 41 I will refer technically to Tagawa’s concept of responses as la formule finale. Tagawa’s redaction-critical approach adopts much from the work of Dibelius and Bultmann, first of all with respect to his conceptions of miracle stories and the basic form, nature and function of responses. Tagawa limits his study to stories of healings, exorcisms and other miracles performed by Jesus. Tagawa sees la formule finale as a defining feature in gospel miracle stories. At a fundamental level he envisions this response motif monolithically, being primarily emotional. Though he distinguishes between “l’étonnement” and “la crainte,” the emotions are for him functionally synonymous. 42 In certain cases, especially in Matthew, there is also “acclamation” (Tagawa 1966: 91, 96). Yet, unlike his form-critical predecessors, Tagawa seems to intuit the relevance of references to seeing. 43 He understands responses as coming at the close of a pericope, though he does not consistently address the issue. The also nur ein Wunder: ... [die] Offenbarung der Gnade Gottes für den Gottlosen, Vergebung.” Other influential figures with similar outlook and fields of scholarly inquiry were C. H. Dodd and Adolf von Harnack. 41 “the concluding formula of miracle stories” 42 “surprise”; “fear” 43 In his own retellings of reactions to Jesus’ miracles, Tagawa (1966: 89, 92) makes references to the visual sensation of those present seeing, though in these instances such references are actually not in the text: “...ayant vu l’exorcisme...”; “[e]n voyant la guérison miraculeuse...,” referring to Mk 1.27 and Mt 12.23 || Lk 11.14, respectively.

History of Research on Responses

15

focus is ever on group respondents, not individuals. Importantly, he understands responses to be positive. Despite possible variations in form, the basic function of responses remains the same: amazement and fear, praise and other types of speech in response to healings and the like are general indications of the greatness of what has been performed and serve to praise the responsible party, be it Jesus and/or God. Yet Tagawa’s study constitutes an important step forward in that he pays attention to variation among responses and considers a given gospel on its own terms, albeit just for what is unique to that gospel. Differences between the possible effects of using specific components in responses – such as praise or emotion – are also considered. At the same time, addressing differences among the Synoptic Gospels comes at the price of reductionism elsewhere. Little room is allowed for possible variations on a theme within a particular gospel, as the literary features of individual stories in a given gospel are assembled together and treated in broad, generalising strokes. True to the general redaction-critical programme, he seeks to find an overarching, unified approach for each redactor. His approach focuses mostly on linguistic nuts and bolts, examined collectively – components of the responses, word choice and sentence structure. Issues of characterisation and plot fall by the wayside, as do the nuances of individual stories in relation to the responses they contain. Here, too, Tagawa follows the lead of the form critics. The response motif is understood to be a relatively unified, single motif, incorporated into each gospel in slightly modified form. I summarise his view of each gospel. Tagawa sees responses in Mark as always using verbs in the third person plural in an impersonal way. Τhus, Mark, according to his reading, does not actually intend to portray the responses of characters who are present at a miracle. Rather, the generic responses only convey the redactor’s conception of the miracle or characterisation of Jesus. It is like saying, “C’était formidable” (Tagawa 1966: 94). 44 Indeed, in Mark, as also in most cases in the Matthew and Luke on Tagawa’s reading, those responding are little more than a ploy to magnify the miracle worker. The feelings of the respondents themselves are not under consideration, let alone any potential implication of doubt or inadequate understanding. Tagawa notes that, unlike Mark, who uses a wide variety of words, some of which are Markan only (θαμβηθῆναι, ἐκθαμβηθῆναι), Matthew has less variation of terminology, θαυμάσαι being more common. Subjects, he avers, are almost always added to sentences. And la formule finale becomes a stereotypical expression “sans la propre opinion du auteur.” 45 Noting instances where emotion and speech come together (whether or not praise is specifical44

“it was tremendous” – Tagawa (1966: 90–91) has two lines of reasoning to support this claim: the responses are always impersonal, third-person plural; and they are allegedly influenced by Aramaic language, in which no subject is described and the verb is given primacy. He likens Mark’s usage to French “on....” 45 “without the author’s own opinion”

16

Chapter 1: Introduction

ly indicated) and in that order, Tagawa (1966: 96) argues that they constitute a formal acclamation (cf. Peterson, mentioned above). Tagawa (1966: 93) observes the instances in Luke where praise of God occurs, following a miracle, and takes this to be the gospel’s preferred ending for the stories: “Des auteurs synoptiques, seul Luc aime terminer les récits de guérisons par une glorification de Dieu.” 46 Luke, on Tagawa’s reading, provides in such instances a doxology (in contrast to acclamation). Luke historicises and psychologises: “il précise le plus possible les sujets du verbe” and makes the reason for the emotion explicit. 47 In contrast to Matthew, Luke exhibits rich stylistic variation: “chaque fois il change de style” (Tagawa 1966: 97). 48 In summary, such attention to differences between the Synoptic Gospels, especially those of a technical nature, while being a step forward, is lacking in more important ways, particularly given the tendency towards reductionism and ignoring the particularities of individual miracle stories. 4. Gerd Theissen Whereas the form-critical studies of Bultmann and Dibelius were concerned with all the material found in the Gospels, Theissen (1974) turned his gaze specifically on the miracle tradition. His monograph contains the most detailed form-critical study of the gospel miracle stories to date, addressing also redaction criticism and to some extent even serving as a forerunner of narrative criticism, with his more integrated approach to the overall text of Mark. His book constitutes a marked contribution to the study of the gospel miracle stories, generally, as well as the responses, in specific. In the first place, Theissen justifiably incorporates more material under the rubric “Wundergeschichten” than those before him. 49 This point pertains especially to epiphanies. Theissen’s (1974: 55) etic categories of miracle stories are six or seven: “Exorzismen,” “Therapien,” “Epiphanien,” “Rettungswunder,” “Geschenkwunder,” “Normenwunder” and “Wundergeschichten, in denen der Begleiter (als Bittsteller) hervortritt.” 50 The epiphanies include episodes of Jesus’ baptism, transfiguration and post-resurrection appearances 46 “Among the synoptic authors, Luke alone loves to end the stories of healing with a glorification of God.” 47 “he specifies the subjects of verbs as much as possible” 48 “each time he changes the style” 49 “miracle stories” – unless otherwise indicated, the English translation here and in what follows is provided by Francis McDonagh in Theissen (1983). 50 “exorcisms”; “healings”; “epiphanies”; “rescue miracles”; “gift miracles”; “rule miracles”; “[m]iracle stories in which a companion is prominent” – the stories in the seventh category “verteilen sich auf Exorzismen und Therapien” (Theissen 1974: 55). The category is not given specific attention elsewhere (Theissen 1974: 94–120, 321–322 [the index of references]). Cf. also Theissen and Merz (1998), where the category is not mentioned in summary of his earlier work.

History of Research on Responses

17

– thus, primarily stories excluded by Dibelius and Bultmann. But, also, the stories of rescue at sea (stilling of the storm; walking on water) are epiphanies. Theissen’s taxonomy is based on which character – that is, who among the seven types he identifies – he takes to be the miracle worker’s “Gegenspieler.” 51 Thus the miracle worker, as such, is fundamental to his concept of miracles. The approach explains why de jure Theissen allows for angelophanies and theophanies in the category of epiphanies, in addition to appearances of Jesus, but de facto he addresses only the former. Similarly, only healings effected by a human miracle worker are in view, not those by an angel or God directly, such as the loosing of Zachariah’s tongue (Lk 1.59–80). The earlier form-critical approach still holds sway over Theissen here. Theissen’s taxonomy is not compatible with Bultmann’s scheme, the latter corresponding, much more to the type of miracle contained in each story. 52 The inclusion of epiphanies among miracle stories is an integral aspect of Theissen’s approach. It is an important step forward, even if one may not be able to accept his overly structured approach to categorisation of miracle stories. His key step, unfortunately, is often not addressed, let alone followed, by subsequent scholarship. Also with respect to responses, Theissen advances research. He adopts his predecessors’ basic analysis of the structure of stories about mighty deeds, though he divides the first part, for a fourfold pattern. “Vier mögliche kompositionelle Orte” are: “Einleitung,” “Exposition,” “Mitte” and “Schluß” (Theissen 1974: 82–83). 53 Of the 33 proposed “Motive” in the miracle stories of the Gospels, the final four Theissen lists pertain to individuals and groups responding, following a miracle: “Admiration,” “Akklamation,” “Ablehnende Reaktion” and “Ausbreitung des Rufes.” 54 In what follows I will refer to 51 “opposite number” (McDonagh) or “antagonist(s)” (my translation) – the seven characters are: miracle worker, sick person, demon, companion, crowd, opponent and disciples. Note that in epiphanies the miracle worker (“der Wundertäter selbst”) is his own “Gegenspieler” (Theissen 1974: 54). 52 I am not aware of other studies incorporating more material or with a substantially different taxonomy. Theissen and Bultmann agree only on the category of exorcism. Otherwise, their systems clash. Healings for Theissen include Jesus’ resurrecting others. Theissen’s “Normenwunder” are for Bultmann, if miracle stories at all, healings and, in one instance, a nature miracle. “Rettungswunder” and “Geschenkwunder” are both “Naturwunder” for Bultmann. “Epiphanien” refers mostly to material not considered by Bultmann to be miracle stories (Jesus’ baptism, the transfiguration and the Emmaus episode are for him “Legende”) and one story (walking on water) which Bultmann classifies a “Naturwunder.” 53 “four possible composition fields”; “introduction”; “exposition”; “middle”; “conclusion” 54 “motifs”; “wonder”; “acclamation”; “rejection”; “the spread of the news” – Theissen’s motif catalogue has not changed subsequently (cf. Theissen and Merz 1998: 284– 285).

18

Chapter 1: Introduction

these four motifs, also the final compositional field Schluß, using the German expressions in italics as technical terms. The four motifs constitute the majority of the seven subsumed under Schluß. They constitute actions of the “Zwischenspieler” in contrast to the “Wundertäter” (2 motifs) and “Gegenspieler” (1 motif). 55 I will discuss the initial three motifs Theissen places in Schluß (“Demonstration,” “Entlassung” and “Geheimhaltungsgebot”) in a moment. 56 This conceptualisation is a marked improvement on the schemes of Dibelius and Bultmann in a number of ways. The relation between the presumed pattern underlying stories and the motifs describing responses is made explicit. The variation in responses is given more attention, with Theissen noting four distinct motifs in place of the singular Eindruck (Bultmann) and Chor-Schluß (Dibelius). More types and qualities of responses are identified, notably reporting of miracles to others and, importantly, negative responses. When moving beyond stories of mighty deeds, Theissen shows some flexibility in his otherwise thoroughly structured approach to motifs. Epiphany stories have four characteristic motifs, he proposes, that are not included in his earlier analysis of the 33 common motifs in miracle stories. One special motif in epiphanies is “die erschrockene Reaktion des Menschen” (Theissen 1974: 103). 57 This is an extreme emotional response specific to epiphanies and distinct from the motif of Admiration in non-epiphanic stories. The emotion is understood to be fear, specifically. 58 At any rate, the said extreme emotional response binds together stories of, say, the stilling of the storm and the transfiguration. Again, Theissen’s attention to nuance goes some distance to advancing our understanding of the nature and function of various responses in gospel miracle stories. Yet, in other ways, Theissen’s categorisation scheme obfuscates some important data which the earlier scholars drew to the fore. The relative importance of emotional responses, noted by both Bultmann and Tagawa, is not given the attention due it. Verbal responses are given categorical priority. I will return to this in a moment. And the data are splintered. Rather than (also) seeing a singular feature, consisting of various combinations of elements, including verbal utterances and emotions, Theissen’s categories (merely) divide the data into separate motifs for analysis. In addition, showing some continuity with form critics, Theissen leaves the picture unclear, formally, as to the significance responses have for miracle stories. This results from subsuming the four proposed motifs under a rubric, Schluß, that groups them together with the confirmation of a miracle 55 “secondary character(s)”; “miracle-worker”; “opposite number [my translation: antagonist(s)]” 56 “demonstration”; “dismissal”; “command to secrecy” 57 “the terrified reaction of human beings” 58 At one point, though, Theissen (1974: 106) refers to “das numinose Staunen der Jünger” in response to Jesus’ appearance walking on the water.

History of Research on Responses

19

(“Demonstration”), in addition to post-miracle actions of the miracle worker (“Entlassung” and “Geheimhaltungsgebot”). This categorisation is problematic for two reasons. First, actions of characters demonstrating they are healed (“Demonstration”) are closely akin to the narration of the healing itself (“Konstatierung des Wunders”). Thus “Demonstration” fits better in section “Mitte” (cf. Zimmermann 2014: 328–329). Second, given the relative frequency of material depicting responses, the now modified fourth category (Schluß) could justifiably be divided in two, with the two motifs representing the miracle worker’s actions being distinct from (and followed by) the four motifs Theissen identifies for responses. Despite some inconsistency in listing the four motifs under the rubric “Zwischenspieler,” 59 a unifying factor remains: the four final motifs are the actions of characters other than the miracle worker. Nevertheless, informally, Theissen, places great importance on responses – Akklamation in particular, also Admiration – for the nature and purpose of miracle stories, as much discussion elsewhere in his monograph reveals. Despite his increased attention to detail in categorisation, more could be given. Theissen is at his analytical best in isolating Ausbreitung des Rufes. His analysis of Admiration, like those before him, does not differentiate between fear and amazement. 60 Other emotions might be specified. 61 Acts of prostration, falling and the like could well be singled out as a distinct type of response. 62 So, too, might descriptions of cognition or visual sensation. Individual cases of a given feature are not treated in detail. 63 And, as with his form- and redaction-critical predecessors, Theissen does not give sufficient attention to who is responding – for example, whether an individual or group and whether a recipient of a miracle, an observer or someone who hears about it later. In another way the homogenising approach of the form critics has an even stronger influence on Theissen. His approach has a polarising tendency with respect to the quality of responses. The motifs he lists are classified as positive or negative. Admiration is associated categorically with Akklamation, the 59

E.g. the “Gegenspieler” and not the “Zwischenspieler” is the character for “Ablehnende Reaktion” in Mk 3.6. 60 “Das Admirationsmotiv umfaßt alle erzählerischen Momente, die ein Staunen, Fürchten, Sich-Entsetzen, Verwundern zum Ausruck bringen” (Theissen 1974: 78). 61 He does not identify joy, annoyance/anger, shame etc. as emotional responses. An instance of joy (Lk 13.17) is listed under “Akklamation,” though for the motif it is claimed “daß immer sprachlich artikulierte Stellungnahme... vorliegt” (Theissen 1974: 80) and no speech accompanies the joy in this context. An instance of anger (Lk 6.11), too, is mentioned, though subsumed under “Ablehnende Reaktion.” 62 Lk 5.8; 8.47; 17.16; Mt 14.33; 17.6. 63 Theissen does not provide a sustained look at the instances of the four response motifs he identifies. The few pages he dedicates to them are significantly less than those in Tagawa’s study.

20

Chapter 1: Introduction

latter considered positive, as it includes “Freude... Lob... Dank... Bekenntnis....” (Theissen 1974: 80). 64 Both indicate approval. He understands Ablehnende Reaktion, which may take verbal or other expression, to be the (less common) counterpart to Admiration and Akklamation. The picture that results is simplistic. 65 The conceptual framework undergirding this approach assumes that the miracle stories – both in the oral tradition about Jesus and then within a given gospel – and the emotional and verbal responses they contain are principally a vehicle to inspire such responses in the listeners or readers towards the miracle worker. Theissen (1974: 212) describes the crucial connection between the (positive) narrated responses and the purpose of a miracle story: Pointe der Wundergeschichten ist das Wunder, darauf basierend die Anerkennung der im Wunder geschehenen Offenbarung in Admiration und Akklamation. 66

Theissen understands the placing of multiple miracle stories in a particular gospel in terms of an “aretalogical” compositional technique. Thus, despite the greater attention to detail, the form-critical scheme prevails as the hermeneutical key for the ultimately singular, integral role of responses in miracle stories. Nevertheless, when Theissen turns to redaction-critical analysis of individual gospels he shows sophistication with respect to variations in the employment of a motif. His discussion of Mark is populated with insights of this sort. Note, in this context he refers to responses generically – and with a measure of reductionism – as “Akklamationen.” 67 First, he observes that responses can vary in terms of quality. He contends that all responses in Markan miracle stories are, in fact, lacking in some respect. For example, in relation to the beginning of the Gospel up to Mk 6, Theissen (1974: 212) says: Deutlich ist, daß die Wunder nach akklamatorischer Stellungnahme drängen, deutlich aber auch, daß die bisherigen Stellungnahmen inadäquat sind… 68

A response may be inadequate on account of some element within it, as in the case of the disciples’ incomprehension described in Mk 6.52 (Theissen 1974: 170, 212). Or a question (Mk 4.41), instead of an acclamation, can demonstrate a lacking quality. A response’s inadequacy may be depicted in relation to other features in the miracle story at hand. For example, the titular 64

“joy... praise... thanksgiving... confession....” Note, the polarising tendency is true for the reasons stated, despite Theissen’s (1974: 80) initial description of Akklamation as “Beifall, Lob und Glückwunsch oder Tadel, Verwünschung, und Forderung.” 66 “The point of the miracle stories is the miracle, and based on this the recognition of the revelation which has taken place in the miracle in wonder and acclamation.” 67 This is the plural of “Akklamation.” 68 “It is clear both that the miracles are pushing for a reaction of acclamation and that the reactions so far are inadequate…” 65

History of Research on Responses

21

affirmations of demons in exorcism stories are qualitatively superior to the responses of human characters (1974: 170–171, 212). Alternatively, a response is deemed inadequate on account of features elsewhere in the larger narrative. Important here is what is known about Jesus “durch die „authentische“ Taufstimme” (Theissen 1974: 212). 69 Thus, the Gospel’s opening scene, an epiphany story which, I add, does not contain a response, but only a statement by the divine voice that Jesus is God’s son, sets the standard by which Theissen can repeatedly say that a given response in a later miracle story is inadequate in some measure. Second, as the last few points already indicate, Theissen observes how responses in Mark can relate to much more than just the miracle story at hand. He states (Theissen 1974: 213): Sie transzendieren den „erzählerischen Augenblick“ der kleinen Einheit und weisen über sich hinaus. 70

Thus, the question asked explicitly in Mk 4.41 finds an echo in subsequent miracle stories, in the extreme emotional responses there. The question itself is raised explicitly again in 6.3, in a context of miracles, but not in a response. And the first titular affirmation, notably missing in the responses, occurs actually in a context that is not a miracle story: Peter’s confession is, nevertheless, found to be inadequate, since it fails to recognise both that Jesus is God’s son and his imminent suffering. By calling Peter’s confession an “Akklamation,” Theissen highlights how reactions to Jesus outside of miracle stories, specifically, can play off of the frequent responses to miracles. Third, Theissen reveals how responses relate to the overall shape of Mark. Indeed, Theissen sees responses in miracle stories and related literary phenomena in other contexts (both called “Akklamationen”) as absolutely crucial to the whole Gospel of Mark. Pertinent are what he calls the “aretalogical arch” and the “mythological arch” of this gospel. As to the former, Theissen (1974: 212) states: Das ganze MkEv drängt nach Akklamation, nach Erkenntnis der wahren Würde Jesu. 71

He notes how the qualitatively lacking responses in miracle stories have a cumulative effect as the larger narrative unfolds. The insufficient responses, accompanied by the demons’ statements showing greater enlightenment and Jesus’ commands to silence, frustrate one’s expectations of the human figures (Theissen 1974: 216):

69

“from the ‘authentic’ voice at the baptism” “They transcend the ‘narrative present’ of the small unit and point beyond themselves.” 71 “The whole of Mark’s gospel pushes towards acclamation, towards recognition of Jesus’ true status.” 70

22

Chapter 1: Introduction

Der Leser [sic] weiß schon um die Würde Jesu. Er [sic] erwartet von daher den Zeitpunkt, wann endlich diese Würde auch den im Evangelium auftretenden Menschen ausgeht. Sein Wissen setzt ihn in den Stand, alle tastenden Versuche, Jesu Person zu deuten, als inadäquat zu erkennen. Er weiß: nur der Sohn-Gottes-Titel erfaßt ihn adäquat. 72

A key moment at around the middle of the Gospel – Peter’s titular affirmation of Jesus – has promise, but ultimately proves inadequate. The key “Akklamation” in the Gospel comes not in a miracle story, but in the statement of Jesus’ Roman executioner (Mk 15.39), in fact, upon carrying out his grim, punitive task (Theissen 1974: 162, 214). This is the Gospel’s climax. 73 It fulfils the expectation, repeatedly frustrated in the responses to miracles. The closely related “mythological arch” is based on the “unmistakable” and “distinctive position” of three episodes – Jesus’ baptism, transfiguration and crucifixion (Theissen 1974: 215). In each case Jesus is acknowledged – by God twice, then by a human – as the Son of God. Theissen (1974: 216) sees these moments “als sukzessive Offenbarung und Anerkennung” of “der Würde Jesu.” 74 The progression culminates, again, in the “Akklamation” at the cross. A point Theissen does not state, though implicit, is that a midway point in Mark consists of two, related episodes: that of Peter’s confession and the transfiguration (God’s acknowledgement of Jesus). It is worth noting, also, that the first two of the three episodes in the “mythological arch” are miracle stories that, he specifies elsewhere, are epiphany stories. Thus, in so many ways, Theissen, showing profound sensitivity to nuance, enlightens us as to the varied use of the response motif in Mark. While, in line with his redaction-critical framework, Theissen (1974: 211) speaks, for example, of a “kompositionellen Vorgang” and “einheitliche Gestalt” for Mark as a whole, many of his considerations approach a literary perspective, with ideas of plot and climax near at hand. 75 In this sense, Theissen is an important forerunner of narrative criticism. Still, his approach has a strong reductionist aspect in three senses. First, responses are conceived of as, essentially, a single, positive motif: acclamations, accompanied by fitting emotions. Reporting, for example, is not addressed in his discussion of Mark. Second, the importance of individual characters is all but neglected. Much as in the case of Tagawa, only the response itself is taken to be meaningful, regardless of who is speaking or experiencing 72 “The reader [sic] is already aware of Jesus’ status and so is waiting for the moment when that dignity will finally be seen by the human beings who appear in the gospel. His [sic] knowledge puts him in a position to recognise that all the hesitant attempts to interpret Jesus’ identity are inadequate. He knows that only the title “Son of God” does him justice.” One should take into account not only readers, but also listeners – not only men, but women too. 73 Theissen (1974: 212–215, 219) variously states and reiterates this point. 74 “as a successive revelation and acknowledgement”; “Jesus’ dignity” 75 “technique of composition”; “unity of form”

History of Research on Responses

23

a feeling and so forth, so long as the figure is simply a human character and not an unclean spirit or God. 76 Taking these two points together, one could challenge Theissen’s approach by asking, for example, what role in the plot is played by the recalcitrant response of the man healed from leprosy (Mk 1.45), who in disobedience to Jesus spreads a report about the miracle. For the response consists of reporting, an element that Theissen sees as distinct from Akklamation and Admiration, while those two response possibilities are not actualised. Third, the miracle worker is taken to be all important, such that a response to an angelophany (16.8), an important text which may bring the Gospel to its close, is not given attention, because the character Jesus does not act in the story. 77 Theissen’s insightful quasi-literary analysis of Mark rests firmly on a presumed tradition-historical context, which, on account of its questionability, must be addressed here. He avers that the miracle story, as an ancient genre inherited by the oral tradition about Jesus and, later, the Gospels, originated in a non-Jewish liturgical context of oral performance. The responses of acclamation were originally made by those listening to an oral telling of an episode, as part of the “oral framework” (Theissen 1974: 159–160, 164) within which the miracle story proper fits. As the traditional form develops diachronically, the response of listeners in liturgy turns into to a response of a crowd character within the respective story. The possibility is intriguing, yet remains hypothetical for various reasons, not least of which is the proposed reconstruction of the said liturgical context. It remains undemonstrated also, for example, that verbal pronouncements are the characteristic or key component in responses and that crowds are the most common figures responding, whether in the oral tradition behind the Gospels or other literature. Also, as Theissen (1974: 160–161) himself observes, various Jewish miracle stories contain verbal responses of affirmation, though not from both recipient and observers of the miracle. And one should not necessarily expect a single thematic correlation between the function of the response motif and the social context in which oral performances of miracle stories took place. At any rate, Theissen’s observations about the qualitatively inferior responses in Markan miracle stories can be appreciated, with some modification, on grounds inherent to the Gospel itself. It is sufficient to consider how the narrative begins, a point which Theissen himself raises. In the opening story of Jesus’ baptism (Mk 1.11), an epiphanic episode, if not also in the text’s opening line (1.1), listeners and readers of the Gospel are informed that Jesus is God’s son. A development of tension occurs when characters respond 76 Theissen (1974: 215) to some extent sees in the centurion’s confession in terms of a specific character, though here the figure is seen primarily symbolically. 77 In contrast Theissen (1974: 103, 104) addresses, for example, the post-resurrection epiphany of Jesus on the road to Emmaus in Lk 24.

24

Chapter 1: Introduction

to miracles pertaining to Jesus until, finally, at his crucifixion the executioner makes the key affirmation. Theissen’s analysis of the other two synoptic gospels is less satisfying. He tends to see responses as positive. 78 Room is not allowed for hesitation or otherwise deficient responses from the disciples and other characters. Here possible instances of irony or other variations on a theme are not addressed. Importantly, the responses are not considered in light of the plot of a given gospel as it unfolds, but collectively and with broad strokes. One reason for this change in approach is the belief that miracle stories in Matthew and Luke are much more episodic, with little within a given story tying it to the larger narrative (Theissen 1974: 205). His view of Matthew and Luke, then, fit closely to his general idea that miracle stories could be inserted into a gospel, in theory, in a more or less random order (Theissen 1974: 198). I turn first to Matthew. In an example that touches on a number of points just made, Theissen (1974: 166, 179) sees in the walking on water that the disciples’ concluding response of prostration and proclamation about Jesus in Matthew (14.33) replaces their incomprehension in Mark (6.51–52). This change, he claims, serves a typical redactional tendency, irrespective of a developing plot, namely producing “ein Bild von der hoheitlichen Gestalt Jesu” (Theissen 1974: 179). 79 But Theissen fails to note how, as the larger narrative develops, the disciples’ seeming comprehension at precisely this moment will later be undermined, when a voice from heaven using similar language rebuffs the disciples (Mt 17.5) in another, private, more grand epiphany. Theissen (1974: 222–223), claiming that “die Hoheit Jesu” 80 is already recognised by characters from the gospel’s beginning scenes, minimises the impact of questions in responses, especially in early miracle stories, such as the question in Mt 8.27: Während die mkn Wundergeschichten auf eine immer wieder retardierte Akklamation zielen, gehen sie bei Mt von akklamationsartigen Rufen aus. Die Hoheit Jesu ist nicht Ziel, sondern Basis für Mt entscheidenden Stücke seines Evangeliums: der großen Reden. 81

Theissen (1974: 163, 221) downplays the impact of a further question about Jesus’ identity in another response to a miracle (Mt 12.23), which characterises the crowds in a less than completely positive light. 78

E.g., Theissen (1974: 163) avers that, whereas Dibelius claims to find only one formal acclamation in the Gospels (Lk 7.16), there are five more, none of which are Markan: Lk 5.8; Mt 12.23; 14.33; Jn 1.49; 6.14. 79 “a picture of a majestic Jesus” 80 “Jesus’ majesty” 81 “Where the Marcan miracle stories move towards a constantly delayed acclamation, Matthew’s start with acclamatory cries. Jesus’ majesty is not the climax, but the basis for what Matthew regards as the crucial sections of his gospel, the great discourses.”

History of Research on Responses

25

In Lk 5.26 Theissen (1974: 181) again sees a later gospel improving on an “inadequate response” in a parallel story in Mark (2.12), a change arising merely from an alleged redactional tendency “to produce a clearer and more plausible narrative sequence” for a given miracle story. Alternatively, Theissen focuses on merely what is unique in Luke to find what is meaningful. As part of an envisaged redactional tendency to subordinate Jesus to God, Theissen (1974: 223) baldly writes that “[d]ie Akklamationen richteten sich auf Gott…,” 82 ignoring responses with speech about and reporting of miracles in which Jesus in particular is the focus. 83 He claims that the redactor adds the responses of individual recipients in some miracle stories, such that the response of a group of observers becomes “Antwort und Weiterführung seines [sic] Lobes” (Theissen 1974: 168). 84 But, again, looking at the narrative of Luke as it unfolds the alleged pristine quality of certain responses is thrown into question. Taking Lk 5.25–26 as an example, the response of the recipient is superior to that of the observers. For the latter, a crowd consisting primarily of religious authorities (cf. Lk 5.17), is later characterised in a very negative light – in part in a response in miracle story (6.11), in part in Jesus’ words condemning those in the Galilee who did not repent upon seeing the miracles he performed (Lk 10). In such a holistic reading the crowd responding in Lk 5.26 is like the stone that receives the seed with joy for a moment, but then fails. In contrast, Theissen (1974: 182) sees this response, like others in further miracles stories in Luke (i.e. 8.47; 9.43; 18.43), as simply a means to improve and “round off” (“abrunden”) the narrative. As to potential influences on the Gospels, the limits of Theissen’s approach, already touched on above, are revealing. He can cite no parallels for Ablehnende Reaktion, just one for Ausbreitung des Rufes and only five for Admiration. This is strange, but perhaps not surprising. Theissen fails to bring the relevant instances from Jewish texts, notably the Hebrew Bible, to the discussion. This is consistent with the fact that the θεῖος-ἀνήρ construct is still exerting great influence on the field. Yet for Akklamation, as already noted, Theissen provides numerous non-Jewish parallels. Ultimately, Theissen (1974: 168) sees a non-Jewish context for the gospel miracle stories, just as he sees the response motif serving a propagandistic purpose: Alle Wundergeschichten wollen eine Stellungnahme zum Wundertäter provozieren; sie sprechen damit Hörer und Leser an. Ihre missionarische Funktion… ergibt sich aus ihrer Struktur. 85

82

“[t]he acclamations are directed at God…” E.g. Lk 5.8–11; 5.15; 8.39; 8.47; 13.17. 84 “an answer to and extension of his [sic] praise” 85 “All miracle stories seek to provoke a response to the miracle-worker: it is with this purpose that they address listeners and readers. Their missionary function… arises out of their structure.” 83

26

Chapter 1: Introduction

Theissen (1974: 159–160, 162) seems to see the move from a liturgical to a missionary social context as the moment in the development of tradition when, as he envisages it, the responses of a listening cultic assembly become incorporated into the form of the miracle stories as the responses of an observing crowd. 5. Summary Those who have made the most significant contributions to the form- and redaction-critical study of responses in gospel miracle stories converge on a number of crucial points. The first seven points pertain primarily to how one should understand a response in a given gospel miracle story, whether in oral tradition or within a gospel. Together they constitute the form- and redactioncritical approach to responses. (1) Responses are fundamental to understanding the nature and meaning of the miracle stories, however defined. (2) A response is always positive in nature, whether in oral tradition or in the confines of a given gospel (with the exception of Theissen’s analysis of Mark). (3) Responses are reduced to their one assumed essential aspect, whether emotion (Bultmann, Tagawa) or speech (Dibelius, Theissen). (4) Consideration of which particular character responds is unimportant, as is the role of the respondent (individual or group) in the story, whether as a recipient or observer of the miracle or a character that hears about it later. (5) There is a tendency (despite Theissen’s discussion of fear at epiphanies) not to distinguish between different types of emotions in responses. (6) The significance of any given response is to be found in the miracle story at hand (Theissen’s analysis of Mark being an exception). (7) Tagawa and Theissen understand that, for each of Matthew and Luke, the importance of the responses lies in what is unique there in relation to the other synoptic gospels, above all Mark. The first six of the foregoing are predicated on further points of convergence, pertaining to the presumed tradition history of the gospel miracle stories. (8) The stories and their responses have their origin in and are to be understood in light of primarily a non-Jewish context. (9) The presumed Hellenistic concept of a θεῖος ἀνήρ, also aretalogy, is foundational to understanding the gospel miracle stories. (10) A miracle worker is always in focus, even if an epiphany should be brought under the rubric of “miracle story” (Theissen). (11) Gospel miracle stories are concerned only (Theissen: or primarily) with Jesus’ mighty deeds. (12) Miracle stories, including responses in particular, serve a propagandistic purpose. Two further point of convergence undergirding points one through seven are the assumptions that: (13) the author-redactors of the Gospels make only light changes to the material they inherit; and (14) a given episode can be understood in its essentials on its own, though one should keep an eye out for

History of Research on Responses

27

“themes” that may come to the fore in a given section of a gospel. Again, Theissen’s study of Mark is in many ways an exception here. Finally, the redaction critics share much of their predecessor’s conceptual world with respect to three further supporting points. (15) A sharp division is envisioned between words from Jesus and narratives about him in the development of the Jesus tradition. (16) A position of scepticism or agnosticism is adopted with regards to the historical Jesus and miracles: the attribution of miracles to Jesus occurred primarily not through his contemporaries but those more distanced from him geographically and chronologically. (Or, more generally, little can be known about the Jesus of history.) (17) The possibility is not considered that the oral Jesus tradition might have had distinctive traits, whether on account of features that are unique to them or uniquely characteristic of them. The neglect is curious, given that for example emotional responses proliferate in the Gospels, though the form- and redaction-critics can find only a few examples in the sources they summon for comparison. Together these 17 points form the core of the form- and redaction-critical paradigm with respect to miracle stories and responses, a paradigm that will have a strong influence on scholarship up to the present day. As much of the conceptual framework and methodology of form criticism and redaction criticism, generally, will be challenged and/or abandoned as the years go on, a few of the points enumerated will cease to have a normative effect. Nevertheless, the specific approach to how one should understand a response in a given gospel miracle story (points 1 through 7) will strangely remain largely intact, exerting a profound normative influence on scholars involved in all sorts of sub-disciplines. This is true even when a key supporting pillar will be removed, namely Reitzenstein’s proposed θεῖος-ἀνήρ construct. Also, as redaction criticism will be overtaken by narrative criticism in the academy, other pillars will give way (points 13 and 14). Yet other points propping up the form- and redaction-critical edifice will come under sharp criticism: the proposed non-Jewish nature of the gospel miracle stories; their alleged propagandistic character; the presumed relation of miracles to the historical Jesus; and the understanding of oral tradition. Still the basic approach to the responses will remain, adopted consciously or subconsciously by scholars who otherwise utilise a variety of approaches to the Gospels and the traditions behind them. I will describe these historical developments below. But, first, I focus attention on the peculiarity of the resultant lacuna in scholarship on miracle stories. Despite the clear consensus among giants of form- and redaction-criticism on the importance of responses for gospel miracle stories, no specialised study is dedicated to them by these or later scholars. And this trend will surprisingly continue through the decades at the end of the twentieth century and into those at the beginning of the twenty-first, when the amount of scholarly publications on the New Testament reach breath-taking new levels. Moreover, roughly half of the points (1–7, 10, 11)

28

Chapter 1: Introduction

that I listed above will not be subjected to detailed evaluation. Seemingly out of custom and convenience (perhaps also out of a sense of reverence for the acclaimed scholars of the past) researchers will continue to let the form- and redaction-critical paradigm exert its influence on them in relation to the response motif. II. The paradigm suffers severe criticism, while its vestiges continue in the approach to responses 1. Tradition-historical criticism 86 In the study of tradition history, the form- and redaction-critical paradigm is dealt some hard blows. Hans Dieter Betz (1961), beginning the second wave of θεῖος ἀνήρ-research, argues that θεῖος ἀνήρ was a technical term designating a common Hellenistic conception: the “Gesamtkonzeption des ‘göttlichen Menschen.’” 87 Theodore Weeden (1968) posits that Mark sought to correct a perceived heresy – Jesus as a man of power and miracles – with a theology of the cross and suffering. 88 Ferdinand Hahn (1963) modifies the hypothesis of θεῖος ἀνήρ-influence slightly: Hellenistic Judaism, presenting its ancient heroes as θεῖοι ἄνδρες, brought the concept to Christians. Severe criticism is leveled at the θεῖος-ἀνήρ construct, along with the reliance on Philostratus and the association of miracles with missionary activity. Carl Holladay’s (1977) research shows that, though Hellenistic Jews more easily attributed divinity to biblical heroes, they neither did this nor heightened thaumaturgic motifs for propagandistic purposes. Eugene Gallagher (1982) establishes that a shifting and flexible collection of categories and criteria could be used to establish an individual’s divinity. Erkki Koskenniemi (1994) shows that Philostratus’ Vita Apollonii – a key source for nonJewish parallels – was in fact reacting to and influenced by Christian tradition about Jesus. David du Toit (1997) deals the decisive blow to the θεῖος-ἀνήρ construct: the term and related phraseology do not imply divinity. 89 At the same time a number of studies find that Jewish parallels to the gospel miracle stories have greater relevance than non-Jewish ones. Earlier scholarship looks at the Jewish scriptures to provide context (Betz 1972; Betz and Grimm 1977; Glöckner 1983; Blackburn 1990). In light of rabbinic materials, Michael Becker (2002) argues that Jesus’ miracles, especially the exor86 For more detailed reference to the history of tradition-historical criticism, see Section A in Chapter Seven, below. 87 “the entire conception of the ‘divine man’” 88 Similar hypotheses of Markan corrective christology are found in the works of Johannes Schreiber, Eduard Schweizer, Ulrich Luz, Leander Keck, Paul Achtemeier, Ludger Schenke, Karl Kertelge, Dietrich-Alex Koch and Norman Perrin. 89 An important earlier study was P. Wülfing von Martitz (1964–1976).

History of Research on Responses

29

cisms, are eschatological, understood within a Jewish framework. Eric Eve (2002), examining a wide range of Second Temple Jewish texts, contends that both Jesus’ miracles and the gospel stories about them, being at home in a Jewish context, portray Jesus as a prophet – and more than a prophet. Roger David Aus (1998, 2000, 2010) analyses a few individual miracle stories in the Gospels in light of important parallels in the Jewish scriptures and their interpretive traditions. The final third of the twentieth century gives rise also to historical studies that make it plausible that at least a number of the gospel miracle stories did not originate in a non-Jewish, Greco-Roman context. As papyrological discoveries at the Dead Sea reinvigorate the study of the Jewish context of Christianity, the Jewishness of the historical Jesus himself is also taken more seriously. Géza Vermes’ (1973) study of “Jesus the Jew” is instrumental. Some scholars begin to argue for miracles being associated with Jesus during his lifetime, regardless of what happened historically. 90 Despite such advances as outlined above, for some the search for traditionhistorical context of the gospel miracle stories goes on more or less “as usual.” For example, Wendy Cotter’s (1999) compendium of ancient miracle stories, envisioned as the quintessential sourcebook for comparative study of the gospel miracle stories, is heavily weighted on the non-Jewish end. 91 Stefan Alkier and Annette Weissenrieder (2013a) adopt a similar approach. Yet others, while giving attention to Jewish literature, nevertheless curiously lean decidedly towards non-Jewish sources (Nicklas and Spittler 2013; KFW1; Kollmann and Zimmermann 2014). An earlier example of this sort of approach is Bernd Kollmann’s (1996) monograph, though still proceeding on the assumption of the existence of an ancient concept of θεῖος ἀνήρ. Some further vestiges of the form- and redaction-critical paradigm are at work in the study of miracle stories, generally, whether Jewish or non-Jewish sources are in view. For scholars are fixated on Jesus as a miracle worker. Similarly, stories of Jesus’ mighty deeds are constantly in view, while those episodes that are concerned exclusively with epiphanies, like the transfiguration, are left by the wayside. While Theissen’s approach to the form of stories about mighty deeds may be adopted by many, his more inclusive definition of miracle story is not. But the vestiges of the paradigm exert the greatest influence on scholars’ approach in attempts to understanding the response motif – or, more frequently, the lack of such attempts – in light of antecedent and contemporary literature and tradition. Karl Kertelge (1970) and Gail Corrington (1986), advocat90 In addition to Vermes, notable scholars in this trend include John P. Meier (1991); John Dominic Crossan (1991); Bernd Kollmann (1996); and David Flusser (2001). 91 Most “Jewish sources” listed in the index (Cotter 1999: 256–259) appear primarily (exclusively) in an appendix.

30

Chapter 1: Introduction

ing the relevance of non-Jewish miracle workers, focus on a threefold pattern in gospel stories of mighty deeds, to the exclusion of characters’ responses: description of the distress or situation necessitating aid, narration of the act producing the miracle, narration of the miracle or confirmation of its reality. 92 The concept of a threefold pattern, as noted above, has its origins in the work Dibelius and Bultmann and its confirmation in that of Theissen, whose proposed fourfold pattern bears a close resemblance. Neither pattern posited identifies a response as a motif in its own right. In reply Blackburn (1990) shows that such a threefold pattern found in non-Jewish, Greco-Roman miracle stories and the Gospels is also common to ancient Jewish stories of performances of miracles. But he does not criticise the scheme itself. This is unfortunate, since it would have helped his later argument if he were to have identified responses as an additional, final category in a fourfold (given Bultmann’s scheme) or fivefold (given that of Theissen) pattern. Blackburn’s (1990: 261) observation “that given the desire to narrate certain types of miracles the [threefold] pattern in question is the inevitable result” can serve as a springboard to an important question. Since a key corollary is that narrating responses is not an inevitable part of telling miracle stories, why are responses so ubiquitous in the Gospels? At the same time, Blackburn brings to attention the possible connection between responses in Markan stories of mighty deeds and the movement from the working of a miracle to belief in the miracle worker as an authorised agent of God in the Hebrew Bible. Though his analysis is brief, I give it disproportionate attention here to serve as an illustration of how an attempt to establish a connection with a Jewish context can be hampered on account of vestiges of the form-critical paradigm. Blackburn’s analysis shows: a tendency towards reductionism, focusing on verbal responses (cf. Dibelius; Theissen); inattention to possible variations in the use of a motif; the assumption that responses (even in Mark!) are qualitatively entirely positive; and a lack of distinction between the intended effect on those reading or hearing the stories and the narration of responses inside a text. Moreover, his focus on performances of mighty deeds and, also, the miracle worker, seems especially unwarranted. For in a Jewish context explicit indication can be given that an epiphany serves to validate an agent of God in the eyes of the people (e.g. Exod 19.9). Other methodological problems arise, including the lack of specification as to the features being compared. Isolating and focusing on responses in miracle stories, in particular, would be helpful. Attention could be given also to potential ways that the authenticating strategy may be varied or challenged in the Jewish texts. Blackburn’s brief analysis is, nevertheless, suggestive. His main point of comparison seems promising and should be pursued –

92

Cf. also Fuller 1968.

History of Research on Responses

31

possibly some responses in gospel miracle stories serve as authentication devices. Timothy Dwyer (1996) advances the discussion by noting important differences between Jewish and non-Jewish contexts for responses. Dwyer argues for a Jewish influence on Mark’s use of “wonder,” a motif Dwyer takes to be an emotional reaction to a variety of personalities and occurrences, not seen in specific relation to miracles. On the one hand, the form-critical paradigm exercises influence in that “wonder” is reduced to a single component, emotion, in which amazement and fear are homogenised. On the other hand, Dwyer’s broad textual base includes both performances of miracles and epiphanies. “Wonder” is common in Second Temple Jewish texts, he claims, as a reaction to God and God’s acts. In non-Jewish Greco-Roman sources, “wonder” occurs at times in contexts of signs and portents, for example, but is not a typical aspect in accounts of “divine men,” a term Dwyer is not critical of. Observations by these students of the Gospels find some confirmation in the work of scholars concentrating on Jewish texts. Yair Zakovitch (1991), for example, argues that mighty deeds in the Hebrew Bible are narrated with responses to indicate that belief in God and his agent come about as a result. George Savran (2003) sees responses to theophanies in the Hebrew Bible as one of the preeminent defining features of this kind of story, with fear being typical. Examining Second Temple Jewish sources, Loren Stuckenbruck (1995), too, finds a close connection in a Jewish context between the fear of those encountering a divine being and the narration of an epiphany. The occurrence of prostration and verbal utterances, as well as reference to visual sensation, in Jewish miracle stories, epiphanic and/or non-epiphanic, is also noted by one or more of these scholars. The taxonomy of potential elements in responses takes a definite step forward in the work of Werner Kahl (1994: 141–152), despite some limitations in the scope of material analysed. As to the limitations, first, focus is on various kinds of miracle workers and stories of mighty deeds. Epiphanies are not addressed. Second the number of sources he consults for responses is only a slight improvement on previous studies and is still heavily weighted on the non-Jewish end, just as he argues that this context is the best for understanding the Gospels. He advances scholarship in his attention to variety. His taxonomy covers seven categories of responses (what he dubs “sanctioning of the preparedness”; see below), some of which could themselves well be subdivided! This is especially true of emotions and verbal appraisals, both of which, despite the work of his predecessors, he curiously subsumes under the generic, arguably ill-named category “assessment of the subject effecting the healing” (Kahl 1994: 143). Likewise praise and proskynesis are needlessly corralled into the broadly conceived “gestures and oral and written expressions” (Kahl 1994: 147). While he, like many others, does not differentiate

32

Chapter 1: Introduction

between fear and amazement, he observes that such emotions can be positive or negative! More generally, he discerns that appraisals of Jesus can be less than a full endorsement. A key advancement Kahl makes over Theissen and the earlier form critics is to include response features that appear in Jewish and/or non-Jewish sources, though they are foreign to the Gospels. Some methodological problems arise for Kahl. Owing to the limited data analysed, it is not possible to place confidence in the generalisations he makes concerning whether a feature is common in a given corpus or not, alternatively attested or not. Even if one takes the generalisations at face value, another weakness is his failure to identify what features, as a group, are most characteristic of each corpus and to compare these groups of features with the same in the Gospels. (There is also the issue of the problematic use of Philostratus.) Still, even here Kahl offers observations that move comparative study forward. He notes some similarities between Jewish sources and the Gospels. Both contain responses addressing the question of competence or identity of those involved in procuring the miracle. Various instances of praise and thanksgiving in Jewish texts, notably from the Second Temple period, find a companion in some Lukan responses. Kahl also notes an interesting difference: the less than positive responses to Jesus in the Gospels contrast with the full affirmations of God and his agents in the Jewish texts. Unfortunately, Kahl’s understanding of the “morphology” of stories of mighty deeds offers little improvement on the three-fold structure of Dibelius and Bultmann (also Kertelge and Corrington) or on Theissen’s four-fold one. Kahl (1994: 233) writes, The morphology is determined by a move from a lack (of health) to its liquidation through a (miracle) performance by an active subject specifically prepared for the task.

He offers a new fourfold scheme: “lack,” “preparedness,” “performance,” “sanction.” In relation to his predecessors, the new element here is “preparedness.” Kahl fails to identify responses as a key component in the stories, though he does isolate them, collectively, as a distinct feature. For he subdivides “sanction” into two parts, the first being “sanctioning the performance,” the second being “sanctioning the preparedness” (Kahl 1994:158–160). 93 The latter comprises all kinds of responses (Kahl 1994: 160): …the sanction of the preparedness can be realized by various allomotifs, ranging from oral expressions of joy or fear to the offer of gifts, to admiration, following, or persecution.

Kahl’s approach has to date come the closest to identifying responses as a distinct and key motif in gospel miracle stories.

93 Elsewhere Kahl (1994: 45) refers to the two parts of “sanction” as “recognition of the outcome of the performance” and “[j]udgement on the preparedness.”

History of Research on Responses

33

With a view to specific parallel stories, some scholars have found an important point of connection between the Gospels and texts pertaining to Jewish sacred history. Thus, Roger David Aus has shown how, within a host of features linking the synoptic stilling of the storm episode with the story of Jonah, the disciples’ emotional response corresponds to that of the Gentile sailors. He, like others, points to a further connection with the Israelites’ crossing of the Reed Sea. The responses again form a link between the stories. Such literary parallelism is pertinent also to John, as Yair Zakovitch and Serge Ruzer (2014) demonstrate. Just as the miracles associated with Moses foster the Israelites’ belief in him, Jesus’ miracles inspire belief in him by various characters. Moreover, initial, partially parallel miracle stories for each figure – turning the Nile to blood / turning water into wine – lead to belief on the part of those following them. The above considerations tend to support the notion that a Jewish context is better than a non-Jewish one for the responses in the gospel miracle stories, though epiphanies have been underrepresented in previous comparative studies. It should be remembered that Tagawa (1966: 99) has noted how both amazement and fear are common responses in non-Jewish epiphany stories from Homer on. So a thorough study is needed. At any rate, for both epiphanies and other types of miracles, a monolithic approach to potential influences on the Gospels must be resisted. 2. Narrative criticism 94 The paradigm initiated by Dibelius and Bultmann is dealt further blows by narrative criticism. Around the beginning of the 1980s, a scholarly trend begins in which each gospel is studied on its own and in its entirety as a narrative. David Rhoads and Donald M. Mitchie (1982) on Mark, R. Alan Culpepper (1983) on John, Jack Dean Kingsbury (1986) on Matthew, Robert C. Tannehill (1986–1989) on Luke (and Acts) and others usher in a new era focused on such issues as: the portrayal of characters through features like contrasting similarities and differences between their actions and speech in related contexts; and the development of conflict and other complications of a story in the unfolding of the narrative on its way towards its climax. All details in a gospel are fair game (not just those unique to it and purportedly indicative of its redactor’s aims) and potentially significant in a variety of ways. Those responsible for the Gospels in their final forms are understood to be able story-tellers, using traditional material, adding some of their own, while weaving together a unique story about Jesus.

94 For more detailed reference to the history of narrative criticism, see Section A in Chapters Two through Five, below.

34

Chapter 1: Introduction

Yet for responses in the miracle stories the form- and redaction-critical approach is all too often adopted uncritically. Elizabeth Struthers Malbon’s examination of characterisation in Mark is a case in point. She takes the disciples and the crowd in Mark together as “fallible followers,” a decision made in part based on a perceived similarity between them in various contexts, including miracle stories. Each is associated with “a response of amazement, astonishment, and even fear in relation to Jesus” (Malbon 2000: 85). Responses involving emotions are evidently taken to represent the same general sentiment. They represent a positive characteristic. Attention is not given to the specific way an emotional response may interact with other features in a given context to indicate a less than positive portrayal. The association with form-criticism is recognisable only upon critical reflection, for she does not identify responses to miracle stories as a motif in its own right. Here, one sees that Theissen’s redaction-critical reading of Mark, approximating a narrative-critical approach, ironically in key respects provides a better understanding of variation in the use of a motif as the narrative unfolds, than does Malbon’s reading. Another example is Kindalee Pfremmer de Long’s (2009) study of praise and the related occurrences of joy in Luke and Acts, in light of the plot of the envisaged one work in two parts (“Luke-Acts”). The study has a distinctly redaction-critical feel. What is proposed as most important to the plot happens to centre on features in Luke (praise and joy), that distinguish it from John and, especially, Matthew and Mark. The data examined are limited to this thematic material. Angelophanies in the opening chapters of Luke, stories of Jesus performing miracles and of Jesus’ resurrection appearances are episodes crucial to de Long’s argument. Yet praise and joy in the stories, often occurring in responses to the miracles, are viewed in isolation. For example, praise in stories of healing and exorcism are not compared with responses of other kinds, whether another emotion (fear or amazement), other forms of speech and/or something more distinct are involved. Praise is taken, categorically, as positive. Another problematic approach is to ignore the response motif in the miracle stories altogether, evidently assuming it to be a stamp on the traditions about Jesus procured at an earlier stage of its development, but not requiring comment in an analysis of the narrative of a given gospel in its present form. It is odd that the only study, to my knowledge, dedicated to investigating the miracle stories of a gospel in light of the unfolding of the narrative does not consider, let alone identify, the response motif as a motif in its own right. In arguing for “a unified narrative portrait of Jesus” as a “mighty teacher,” Edwin K. Broadhead’s (1992: 191) concentrated examination of the miracle stories in Mark effectively assigns zero significance to the presence of responses as a motif. The clandestine influence of an earlier generation’s form

History of Research on Responses

35

criticism is, nevertheless, detectable, when, for example, Broadhead (1992: 111) refers to speech following a miracle as “acclamation.” Others pay more attention to detail in and surrounding the notices of such types of emotion and related actions from characters following miracles. They note how subtle variations in the composition of a motif or a change of context can change the meaning of the motif. This is similar to the fact that words in themselves do not contain a precise meaning but are given their hue by the way (intonation etc.) they are said and the context they appear in (the surrounding words). This is seen perhaps most of all in studies of John, where narrative criticism has flourished. Alan Culpepper (1983) notes, for example, how comparison between similar miracle stories, such as the healing of the incapacitated man and the healing of the blind man in Jn 5 and 9, respectively, inform one another as the narrative unfolds. Initially the response of the recipient in the first of these stories seems ambiguous. In retrospect, however, when the response of the second recipient of healing is encountered, the characterisation of the other individual becomes negative. While some lack of complexity in Culpepper’s view of characterisation has been noted and made up for by others, the validity of the basic comparative approach remains. The problematic nature of one character’s response is in some cases only fully seen in comparison to the more positive response of another character in a similar situation later. It is perhaps revealing that responses of the healed men and related characters in the two miracle stories of Jn 5 and 9 are as far as responses in gospel miracle stories get from having formal qualities. This fact makes them stick out, on the one hand, drawing the notice of scholars, where more seemingly stereotyped responses might not succeed in garnering such attention. On the other hand, their being longer and more complex, involving interactions between the recipients of healing with other characters on the way to the final articulation of their responses, provides more details and makes them easier to interpret. The shorter, at times laconic responses of characters elsewhere, notably in the Synoptic Gospels, requires greater attention to detail in the story in question and to potential comparisons with responses of other characters in various related contexts. A rich resource published recently on the miracle stories in the canonical and other gospels, Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen, Band 1: Die Wunder Jesu (KFW1), has, for every miracle to which an essay is dedicated, a discussion of the narrative of the respective episode on its own terms. The contributors make a variety of literary observations at this level that offer new insights. Their considerations will be taken up in turn in the study to follow. At the same time the influence of form and redaction criticism on the volume can be seen. An initial observation is that stories are generally treated in isolation. For example, the first source to which a section is dedicated is the “Logienquelle Q.” Two stories, taken essentially from

36

Chapter 1: Introduction

Luke, are discussed in this context alone. 95 Introductory chapters for each gospel treat literary questions (with varying amounts of attention to detail), including how individual miracle stories might fit into the larger narrative they are found in. But the question is not asked at length, for example, of how the stories may function jointly within the unfolding plot of a given gospel. Some individual contributors dedicate more attention to broader developments in a given narrative. Yet the trend is to focus on the episode at hand alone. Thus the value of whatever comments are made about responses in a given story are already limited. I will return to the compendium in a moment. 3. Source criticism 96 Yet further blows to the form- and redaction-critical paradigm come from those studying the sources of the Gospels. I begin with the Synoptic Problem, the question of the interrelations of Matthew, Mark and Luke, which necessarily involve direct literary dependence, on account of the amount of verbal identity shared between them in various combinations. The Two Document Hypothesis goes largely unchallenged during the first half of the twentieth century. Following William R. Farmer’s (1964) critique of the theory and promotion of the Two Gospel Hypothesis (also known as the Griesbach Hypothesis), a series of conferences are held in the 1970s and 1980s in Europe, North America and Israel to discuss the merits of the two hypotheses, with various publications resulting. 97 The Two Gospel Hypothesis holds that Matthew was used by Luke and that both were used by Mark. While the publications presenting a more comprehensive case for this hypothesis appear somewhat later (McNicol et al. 1996; Peabody 2002), dissatisfaction with the scholarly consensus of a previous generation begins to rear its head earlier already, even when the Two Gospel Hypothesis is not embraced as a superior alternative. An important example of this is the work of Edward P. Sanders and Margaret Davies (1989), who assess the advantages and disadvantages of a number of solutions to the Synoptic Problem. Another theory, promoted initially by Austin Farrer (1954), is championed by Michael Goulder (1989), followed in turn by Mark Goodacre (1996; 2002). The Farrer Hypothesis, which assumes Markan priority and posits Luke’s use of Matthew (thus dispensing with Q), makes important inroads, as 95 It is often true, too, when a story appears in two or more Gospels, that not all versions of it receive analysis. E.g. only 13 of 20 episodes in Matthew identified as miracle stories are analysed, while all 18 in Mark are. 96 For more detailed reference to the history of source criticism, see Section A in Chapter Six, below. 97 The hypotheses of others, notably that of Marie-Émile Boismard, also receive consideration in some contexts (cf. Dungan 1990).

History of Research on Responses

37

its appeal is evidently more widely felt than that of the Two Gospel Hypothesis. This point is illustrated by the contributions (and foreword) to the volume edited by Mark Goodacre and Nicholas Perrin (2004). Among the difficulties for the Two Document Hypothesis that inspire some scholars to look to other potential solutions to the Synoptic Problem are the so-called Minor Agreements, the places in the Triple Tradition (material common to all of the Synoptics) where Matthew and Luke agree against Mark. Principal among the defenders of the dominant hypothesis are Frans Neirynck and Christopher Tuckett. A tendency can be seen in the new wave of defence towards favouring the intellectually less satisfying argument that coincidentally similar or identical editorial changes on the part of Matthew and Luke explain their unexpected similarities. The problem is compounded, when it comes to the responses, as the form-critical perspective to disregard differences in types of emotions is uncritically assumed. Thus, in the stilling of the storm the disciples’ amazement in Matthew and Luke – unparalleled in Mark, where they are greatly afraid – appearing in a two-word phrase shared verbatim (ἐθαύμασαν λέγοντες) is found in the list of Minor Agreements drawn up by Frans Neirynck et al. (1974: 284) under the banal category “changes in vocabulary.” The change, they aver, is easy to explain, assuming coincidentally identical editorial choices. Another difficulty is taken to be the way that the hypothetical Q document is conceived. Q specialists seem to handle the data with force. This point is seen in two principal tendencies: Q is unjustifiably taken to be essentially coextensive with the Double Tradition (material uniquely common to Matthew and Luke) and the document’s narrative elements are minimised. I add that miracles, too, are neglected. The line of the form critics’ influence on Q scholarship being direct, it is no surprise that the form- and redaction-critical paradigm has a firm grip on much of Q research. Study of the hypothetical document receives renewed attention in the second half of the twentieth century, beginning in Heidelberg. The early research proceeds under the leadership of Bornkamm, a student of Bultmann and Dibelius’ successor. The Gospel of Thomas, a collection of sayings attributed to Jesus, without narrative, preserved in a Coptic translation from Greek, is discovered in 1945 and published in 1958. The discovery helps foster momentum for the study of Q, with its characterisation as a collection of sayings pursued with vigour. A common genre – collections of wisdom sayings, called λόγοι σοφῶν – is proposed for the two documents (Robinson 1964). At the same time, a distinct social context is posited for Q, which is set up against communities that are centred on the “kerygma,” the message of Jesus’ death and resurrection. In these ways the conception of Q is categorically separated from narratives, also miracles. With the heavy implementation of redaction criticism, James M. Robinson and John Kloppenborg Verbin remove narrative and miraculous elements even further from its alleged, earliest

38

Chapter 1: Introduction

stratum, thus bringing the document into closer alignment with the Gospel of Thomas. In the lines of argumentation pursued, a big role is played by the form critics’ rigid concept of genre, categorical separation of sayings material from narratives, including miracle stories, and view of the historical processes in the formation of the Jesus tradition. In order to make definitive claims about the document’s contents, scholars opt for the convenient, taking the commonly agreed upon 220 or so verses or parts of verses in the Double Tradition to be Q. Here a “critical minimum” for Q (a “warranted Q”) is confused with an “actual Q” (Perrin 2004). A blind eye is turned to questions such as: how reasonable it is to claim that, if Lk can omit nearly half of Mk, Lk reproduces all of Q? Where there is a deviation from the norm, it is again in favour of sayings material and against narrative, whether Q is envisioned as smaller – Kloppenborg Verbin omits Jesus’ baptism – or larger – Harry Fleddermann (2005), doubling the conventional size of Q, adds only dialogues and speeches from the Triple Tradition. Scholarship of a previous century was prepared to have more narrative in Q, derived from material in the Triple Tradition. Miracle stories in particular, such as the healing of the leper and the stilling of the storm, were in view (e.g. Weiss 1876). As for responses, the strong tendencies of Q scholarship lead commentators away from discussing the narrative feature of the crowd’s amazement at an exorcism in Q 11.14. It seems taken for granted that this is a typical feature of ancient miracle stories, generally, and not worthy of comment. Moreover, the possibility that Jesus’ amazement at the Capernaum centurion’s faith (Q 7.9) in another miracle story is a variation on the response motif is scarcely entertained. Despite the resurgence in discussion of the Synoptic Problem and a new openness to entertain a variety of hypothetical solutions, the curious fact remains that no detailed study of the miracle stories in this regard has appeared. 98 This lack is, to my mind, especially strange for responses, given their ubiquity throughout the gospel miracle stories – a feature that might set the Gospels apart in their ancient context to some extent. I will address this point further, in the following subsection. Furthermore, as Theissen has shown, assessment of responses in the context of a given gospel as it unfolds can contribute significantly to understanding what is characteristic of that gospel and, potentially, different from the others. John’s relation to the Synoptics has also received consideration in recent decades. Three approaches are common. Some, such as Neirynck, posit that the author of John knows and uses one or more of the Synoptics directly, while minimising the possibility of oral tradition. Others see John as depend98

An essay by Reid (2011) provides the first, preliminary look at the merits of the Two Document Hypothesis and its two most well-known rival hypotheses in light of some aspects of the miracle material.

History of Research on Responses

39

ent on one or more of the Synoptics in a more distant manner, in some cases with secondary orality – say, the public reading of Mark – being the model adopted. Yet others, like James Dunn, argue that the similarities between all four of the Gospels are the result of the reliance on related oral tradition. Here, too, a notable lacuna comes to light, as responses in miracle stories have not been subjected to detailed analysis to shed light on the interrelations of the Gospels, though they are prevalent in the miracle stories of John, as in the Synoptics. Where comparison has been made, it is typically to point out what is different – allegedly John has responses of belief, whereas the Synoptics have emotions. But what might be common among them all, too, could be important for assessing the case for oral tradition. Among some New Testament scholars, understanding of the role of oral tradition in the formation of the Jesus tradition has undergone a much needed overhaul. Werner Kelber (1983), countering the form critics’ undifferentiated approach to written and oral texts, highlights distinctive traits of the latter. In oral performance multiple and varied renditions of the same basic material occur, while what is essential is retained. There is no linear process of development for, for example, stories that end up in the Gospels. Oral tradition is not to be understood as a singular “source,” alongside literary sources. Kenneth Bailey (1995) provides a concrete example in the modern period of a social context which provides the type of stability and flexibility in oral tradition that is reasonably ascribed to the Jesus tradition. His work shows that the traditions which get transmitted are important for a community’s identity. The form critics’ notion of wild and free invention in the oral Jesus tradition should be set aside. Rafael Rodríguez (2010; 2014) observes how the weight of multiple performances of material in the Jesus tradition, such as miracle stories, would develop a circumambient tradition. For any one performance of, say, a given story, the meaning inherent to it from “the preexisting, circumambient tradition” (Rodríguez 2014: 75) would be greater for the listening audience than any conferred meaning arising from potential innovation by the oral performer. In addition, an audience would know that the Jesus about whom a miracle story is being told is the same Jesus who taught, experienced opposition and was eventually put on trial and executed. Rodríguez draws on theory of social memory, as does Eric Eve (2014), to help elucidate the oral Jesus tradition. Through framing, a conceptual framework is provided for the encoding and retrieval of information that is to be remembered, enabling also explanation or narration of it to others. Through keying, a more recent event is linked to past event in order to remember the former and give it meaning. Some discontinuity with the past is to be expected on account of these processes. Yet other factors work towards continuity, such as rival claims concerning agreed upon events or a figure possessing a difficult reputation. Thus Jesus’ later reputation as a miracle worker – though interpreted differently by various

40

Chapter 1: Introduction

groups – is best explained as having continuity with opinions about Jesus during his lifetime. These far-reaching advancements in our understanding of the oral tradition about Jesus have not yet been applied to the responses in miracle stories. Such analysis would seem to hold much potential for helping revisit the question of the interrelations of the Gospels. Even if the question were limited to the Synoptic Problem alone, assuming the Two Document Hypothesis, the reward could be significant. For the potential creative use of the response motif, Jesus’ amazement at the Capernaum centurion’s faith, may be an indication that already at the time of Q’s composition, amazement was understood in the circumambient tradition as a standard response to Jesus’ mighty deeds. The possibility gains support when – against Bultmann – one pays attention to Tagawa’s (1966: 93) and Theissen’s (1974: 79) observation that the commonly occurring responses of extreme emotion, such as amazement, in the gospel stories of mighty deeds have few parallels in the body of literature that is commonly cited for comparison. If we are dealing here with a feature that is uniquely characteristic of the gospel miracle tradition – and perhaps there are other such features – then this tradition may have taken shape early on, in a social context connected to Q. 4. Genre The paradigm championed by Dibelius and Bultmann still exerts influence on discussions of genre, despite some important advances. Ruben Zimmermann (2014: 322) has recently written on the genre of “(Früchristliche) Wundergeschichten.” 99 His approach advances the field in a number of ways. First, the term “miracle story,” ubiquitous in New Testament scholarship, is rarely defined, even in studies specialising in such stories. So by conducting an explicit, systematic and detailed discussion of the genre of miracle stories (Zimmermann 2013b: 22–32, 50–53; 2014), 100 his contribution becomes an important starting point for further discussion. Second, he incorporates flexibility in his understanding of genre. Recognising that the concept of a genre is a construct of meta-communication, Zimmermann (2014: 318) speaks of the “Familienähnlichkeit” of a group of texts. 101 Given, for example, a more detailed definition of the features of a miracle story, one can gather together a 99

“(early Christian) miracle stories” – Zimmermann uses “Wundererzählung” and “Wundergeschichte” interchangeably. 100 Note, since Kollmann and Zimmermann (2014: vi) state that their volume “steht in engen Zusammenhang mit dem ‘Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen’” (i.e. KFW1 and the envisaged second volume), Zimmerman’s (2014) essay on genre is brought into a close connection with the compendium, whose introductory essay (2013b) he writes also. 101 “family resemblance”

History of Research on Responses

41

family of similar stories, even when some of them do not contain all the features in the definition. 102 Thus, he provides a convincing theoretical basis for the inclusion of an episode from Mt 17, in which the miracle itself is not narrated. Sub-categories of miracle stories, too, are pertinent here. He insists that there is not one pure form, but allows for the possibility that a story may belong to more than one subcategory even from its inception. Third, his emphasis on understanding all Christian miracle stories as explicitly or implicitly pertaining to the working of God’s power meets a lack in previous approaches. The perspective inherent in these stories, then, matches a Jewish context better than a non-Jewish one – a point Zimmermann fails to observe. Despite these strengths, Zimmermann’s approach is nevertheless tethered to the form- and redaction-critical paradigm, evidently unknowingly. Because of the explicit detail in Zimmermann’s definition and supporting discussion and because he lays out the theoretical basis underlying the massive Kompendium (KFW1), a volume which seems to claim both comprehensiveness and authority, I provide a detailed review of how the vestiges of the said paradigm influence his work. 103 I address, first, general concerns and, second, responses. Zimmermann misses an important opportunity to ask fundamental questions about what may be appropriately identified as a gospel miracle story. Zimmermann (2014: 323) opts for a complex definition of “miracle story,” consisting of five elements: “Narration,” “Handlungsfigur und Handlung,” “Handlungsfolgen,” “Urheber – Deutung” and “Wirkungsästhetik.” 104 Zimmermann’s (2013b: 29–30) starting point is Kahl’s understanding of miracle stories, who in turn is indebted to Bultmann, as noted above. A miracle story is taken to move from a lack to its liquidation through a miracle performed by a miracle worker. Yet Zimmermann offers no rationale at this point for why one should limit the material to stories of healings, food provision and the like, let alone to those involving a human miracle worker. These points are simply assumed. Elsewhere Zimmermann (2013b: 50–51) attempts to provide a rationale 105 for the demarcation. But, in actual fact, he only makes a restatement of it. Other problems also arise. For here there is also a mismatch between the stated limitation and the actual one. It is claimed that stories in which God,

102 Zimmermann (2014: 318) speaks of “eine Zugehörigkeit aufgrund von Ähnlichkeiten bei gleichzeitigem Raum für Abweichungen.” 103 As Zimmermann’s key essays on the topic are in German, the present discussion will have an added benefit of rendering a service to many English-speaking readers. 104 “narration”; “action-characters and action”; “sequence of action”; “creator – interpretation”; “effect-aesthetics” 105 He seeks to provide a “Begründung” (Zimmermann 2013b: 31).

42

Chapter 1: Introduction

without an intermediary, is the miracle worker are to be excluded. 106 But, without explanation, he then goes on to limit the study to those stories “in denen ein menschlicher Wundertäter auftritt” (Zimmermann 2013b: 50; emphasis original). 107 Ancient Jewish authors, including commentators on Jewish Scripture show awareness of the difference between a miracle performed by God alone and one wrought by an intermediary, such as an angel. So there is no reason for omitting, for example, the appearance of the young man or angel in Mk 16, who is presumably responsible for the miraculous, physical act (cf. Zimmermann’s insistence on “Handlung”) of moving the stone from the mouth of the tomb, as well as providing the women disciples with revelatory knowledge about Jesus. 108 Yet further problems of inconsistency arise. Ostensibly Zimmermann (2013b: 51) excludes the resurrection of Jesus, since it is the result of a direct intervention by God. But he then makes a logical leap from this statement to leaving out “alle Wunderberichte, die im Zusammenhang mit dem Auferstandenen stehen” (Zimmermann 2013b: 51). 109 While the grounds remain unstated, it seems that Zimmermann no longer takes Jesus, once resurrected, to be a human character in the respective stories. The implicit logical step seems evident in his use of terminology. 110 At any rate, elsewhere Zimmermann (2013b: 31) categorically excludes epiphanies. A general tendency towards the exclusion of epiphanies seems the more basic motivation for why the post-resurrection appearances of Jesus are omitted. It would explain why the transfiguration also is left out, though in each of the Synoptics, where it appears, it is a story about Jesus prior to his crucifixion and resurrection. Furthermore, the story of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearance in the Galilee and related miraculous catch of fish in Jn 21 is included in the Kompendium (KFW1), though it ought not be, as Zimmermann (2013b: 52) openly acknowledges. The stated grounds for this exception to the rule is that a similar story is told in Lk 5 about the “earthly” Jesus. Seemingly supporting grounds, though unstated, are that this is the one post-resurrection story in the Gospels that contains a mighty deed, a miraculous provision of food, while on its account the epiphany per se can receive less attention. Bultmann, too, excludes the transfiguration and includes the story from Jn 21 among miracle 106 “Eine weitere Begrenzung besteht darin, dass keine Wundergeschichten aufgenommen werden, die unmittelbar von Gott als Wundertäter erzählen” (Zimmermann 2013b: 50; emphasis original). 107 “in which a human miracle worker appears” – the mismatch is more pronounced in the later phrase: “ein direktes Eingreifen Gottes ohne Interaktion von menschlichen Figuren” (Zimmermann 2013b: 51). 108 “action”/“deed” 109 “all miraculous accounts which are related to the resurrected one” 110 Zimmermann (2013b: 52) distinguishes terminologically between the “irdische” (earthly) Jesus and “der Auferstandene” (the Resurrected One).

History of Research on Responses

43

stories. His reasoning, however, rests on a presumed history of the tradition – originally, the former story was about an appearance of the resurrected Jesus and the latter story developed from a saying made by Jesus prior to his crucifixion (Bultmann 1995 [1931]: 232, 246). 111 Thus, given the inadequacies in Zimmermann’s stated rationale and the inconsistencies in his procedure and on account of the similarities of his and Bultmann’s approaches, it would seem that his form-critical predecessor, along with the mass of scholarship influenced by form criticsm, exerts a greater influence on Zimmermann than he is aware of, concerning both the focus on a miracle worker and the exclusion of epiphanies. Still, Zimmermann’s writing and the contents of the compendium he edits reveal that it is difficult de facto to exclude accounts of epiphanies, especially those of the resurrected Jesus, from a collection of gospel miracle stories. Zimmermann (2013b: 53) argues for including Jesus’ miraculous exit from the tomb, accompanied by angels, in the Gospel of Peter (cited as 9.35– 11.45), since it is the only “Wundertext” in this gospel and since a goal of the compendium it to be more inclusive of non-canonical gospel material. 112 Yet, this betrays awareness that such a story, involving the activity of angels and a return from death, also the release of a human from an enclosed containing area, can reasonably be understood as a miracle story. One could add that Zimmermann’s understanding of Christian miracle stories as all involving the working of God’s power, a narrative perspective that aligns with Jewish sources, would lean in favour of looking to these sources for understanding whether epiphanies should be considered miracle stories. With a more fitting name, Zimmermann’s restriction to the selected corpus of stories could be justified. Zimmermann’s approach could be understood as a focused look at the story of a mighty deed. Such a story could well be labeled “miracle worker story” (i.e. “Wundertätererzählung”), leaving the broader term “miracle story” to include both these and other stories of miracles, such as epiphanies. The foregoing discussion highlights how the approach of Zimmermann and the compendium aligns itself with that of the form critics in yet another way, namely a tendency to treat each miracle story essentially on its own, divorced from the context of the gospel it appears in. The point is seen, first, in the selection of stories, such as Jn 21, which in its context within this gospel is clearly a story about the resurrected Jesus. Second, the point is also observed in the definition of miracle story. For, despite all the definition’s detail, nothing is stated in it about the important fact that each miracle story, as it currently stands, derives meaning from its relation to the respective larger un111

Note that for Bultmann the transfiguration, like all stories of the resurrected Jesus, belongs to the category “Legende” and not to “Wundergeschichten.” 112 “miracle text”

44

Chapter 1: Introduction

folding narrative and not merely from whatever release of tension occurs within the confines of the miracle story itself. (Nor is it specified that a miracle story in the oral tradition may well derive some, if not much, of its meaning from the circumambient tradition about Jesus.) Third, this predilection for treating the miracle stories in a detached manner is seen among many of the narrative analyses of individual miracle stories in the Kompendium (KFW1). As for responses, Zimmermann’s approach takes a step backwards. Addressing “Narration,” the first aspect of his definition, Zimmermann (2014: 328) essentially adapts material from Theissen. He divides Theissen’s (1974: 82–83) four categories into ten sub-categories, called “Elemente,” with four being in “Exposition” and two being in the remaining three categories (“Einleitung,” “Mitte” and “Schluss”). Each sub-category contains one to five of 33 motifs, essentially equivalent to those postulated by Theissen. 113 He claims that a narrative must have a particular six of the 10 “Elemente” to be called a miracle story. 114 Though elsewhere his scheme brings progress, 115 113 Zimmermann adds “Erzähleinleitung” (first motif) and “Deutungsangebot” (last motif), merges Theissen’s “Auftreten von Stellvertretern” and “Auftreten von Gesandtschaften” and deletes Theissen’s “Motivation des Auftretens von Gegenspielern.” 114 Zimmermann (2014: 323) defines what he means by the criterion “Narration” thus: “Eine Wundergeschichte ist eine mehrgliedrige Erzählung, die in faktualer Erzählweise präsentiert wird.” The adjective “mehrgliedrige” refers to the essential six narrative elements (the “notwendiges narratives Grundgerüst” [Zimmermann 2014: 328]) and other optional elements. However, describing the said six sub-categories of motifs as “essential” is misleading. The description also goes against Zimmermann’s otherwise flexible approach to genre. Should the six criteria be understood as truly essential, Zimmermann’s definition of “miracle story” becomes problematic. For (versions of) six stories commonly recognised as miracle stories, being found for example in KFW1, would have to be excluded. In some cases more than one criterion are not met. In Mt 17.24–27 no miracle is narrated (“Konstatierung einer Veränderung”), nor does any motif from “Reaktionen durch Handlungsfiguren” appear. In all Synoptic versions of the feeding of the 5000, the element “Reaktionen durch Handlungsfiguren” is absent, both with respect to the miracle worker – in two cases the crowd is sent away after the next miracle story begins (Mt 14.23 || Mk 6.46), while in Lk the crowd is not sent away – and the other characters. As the blessing before eating is not portrayed as an entreaty of God for a miracle, there is in all probability no “Wunderhandlung” either (Mt 14.19 || Mk 6.41 || Lk 9.16 – identifying a potential “Szenische Vorbereitung” would not solve this problem). Even the presence of “Konstatierung einer Veränderung” is problematic. Though in Mk the sentence καὶ τοὺς δύο ἰχθύας ἐμέρισεν πᾶσιν (6.41d) could possibly be taken as “Konstatierung einer Veränderung,” because of πᾶσιν, there is no corresponding comprehensive statement in Mt (14.19) or Lk (9.16). The fact that everyone’s stomaches got full has not convinced all readers that a miracle took place. On the difficulty of identifying the happenings in the feeding story of Lk 9.10–17 as miraculous without reading them in the context of the overall narrative of a given Gospel, see Alkier (2013). In the feeding of the 4000, for similar reasons, there is strictly speaking neither “Wunderhandlung nor Konstatierung einer Veränderung.” Three other stories are without any motif from “Reaktionen durch Handlungsfiguren”: the healing of the hemor-

History of Research on Responses

45

the last of these six elements, “Reaktionen durch Handlungsfiguren,” is particularly problematic. 116 First, he labels the miracle worker’s activities subsequent to the miracle (“Schweige-/Geheimhaltungsgebot” and “Entlassung”) as “reactions.” 117 They are better understood as follow-up activities. 118 The categorisation creates confusion on the important point that in the Gospels Jesus, unlike other characters, typically does not respond to the miracles. Second, Zimmermann categorically severs Admiration and Akklamation, placed within the aforementioned essential “Element,” from Ablehnende Reaktion and Ausbreitung des Rufes, relegated to the sub-category “Erzählerkommentar,” an allegedly optional element of miracle stories. 119 But these four motifs are unified in that they pertain to the responding actions of those characters other than the miracle worker. 120 Thus, a better sub-categorisation of Theissen’s scheme would place the two motifs pertaining to the postmiracle actions of the miracle worker in a sub-category of their own and the four pertaining to the responses of other characters in yet another distinct subcategory (though the heuristic value of even these four are in need of reexamination, as noted already). Zimmermann does not incorporate the advances made by Kahl, who identifies additional sorts of responses. Alternatively, Zimmermann’s focus on emotional and verbal responses is curiously reminiscent of Bultmann’s Eindruck and Dibelius Chor-Schluß.

rhaging woman in Mt (9.20–22), the healing of the centurion’s slave in Lk (7.1–10) and the exorcism of the Syrophoenician’s daughter in Mt (15.21–28). (Note that for the last two stories the respective parallel version is also put in question, since for the “Entlassung” [ὕπαγε] not those healed, but the petitioners are sent on their way [Mt 8.13; Mk 7.29].) 115 For example, Zimmermann appropriately pairs motifs pertaining to the confirmation of the miracle (i.e. the element or sub-category “Konstatierung einer Veränderung”) and thereby creates a better division between the categories “Mitte” and “Schluß.” Thus, Zimmermann places “Demonstration” together with “Erzählerkommentar” (i.e. Theissen’s “Konstatierung des Wunders” and a motif, not the element which in Zimmermann’s scheme confusingly goes by the same name). Both are found in “Mitte.” Elsewhere, too, Zimmermann’s sub-categories can be helpful. The collection of motifs pertaining to the appearance of characters (“Begegnung mit dem Wundertäter”) is helpful. 116 “reactions by action-characters” 117 “command to silence/secrecy”; “dismissal” 118 E.g. Jesus’ commands to be silent (or keep a secret) or acts of letting other individuals depart are not actions which express that a great impression has been made on the miracle worker by the miracle. Rather such actions are focused on the subsequent behaviour of those who have received favours. On the other hand, descriptions of feelings, often extreme in nature, give voice to impression the miracle has made on the characters experiencing the feelings. 119 “narrator’s commentary” 120 For Theissen (1974: 81) Ablehnende Reaktion, in particular, is the counterpart of Admiration and Akklamation.

46

Chapter 1: Introduction

Also with respect to the fifth and final aspect of his definition (“Wirkungsästhetik”), 121 Zimmermann carries on the legacy of the form-critical paradigm. He clearly understands the impact of a miracle story on the recipients in terms of their amazement, as an extension of the characters’ amazement within the miracle stories themselves. Zimmermann (2013: 13; cf. 14– 15), discussing his “new” approach, makes this point unequivocally: Ziel dieser Texte ist es, dass sich die Rezipienten gleichsam mit den Augenzeugen und Handlungsfiguren auf der Erzählebene wundern. 122

Amazement is taken as singularly positive, for all miracle stories. Emotional responses are homogenised. The individual instance of the emotion and the particular character involved in a given story are not of ultimate significance. Amazement, viewed monolithically, serves simply to acknowledge the grandeur of the deed and the doer. Theissen’s work on responses in Mark, which observes less than positive instances of amazement, is ignored. Elsewhere, in discussion of his definition of miracle story, this emphasis on amazement is coupled with one on a culminating recognition, belief and behaviour modification. 123 In this way the assumed intended effect of a miracle story on the listeners is related closely to not only the emotional but also the verbal responses of characters. The perspective is in line with his predecessors: Bultmann and Tagawa for emotion, Dibelius and Theissen for acclamation. Their paradigm exerts its influence here, even when for Zimmermann the intended effect is no longer reduced to a single item.

B. Definitions The foregoing discussion has highlighted the need for clear definitions in the study to follow. What constitutes a miracle in the Gospels? How are stories best labeled as miracle stories? What am I referring to exactly when I use the word “response”? These questions will be taken up in turn.

121

“effect-aesthetics” “The goal of these texts is that the recipients [of the stories] marvel as it were with the eyewitnesses and characters at the level of the narrative.” 123 While both discussions of his proposed definition speak of the recipients’ “Staunen und Irritation,” the former speaks of a final development as “zu einer Erkenntnis oder einer Verhaltensänderung” (Zimmermann 2013b: 32), without reference to belief, while the latter speaks of it as “zu einer Erkenntnis… und/oder zum Glauben bzw. zu einer Verhaltensänderung” (Zimmermann 2014: 322; emphasis original). 122

Definitions

47

I. “Miracle” Too often studies of the miracle stories of the Gospels begin without a precise articulation of what “miracle” entails, while proceeding on the assumption that it refers to mighty deeds – healings and exorcisms above all – performed by Jesus and other ancient figures, historical and mythical. 124 Theissen has argued for epiphanies in the Gospels – whether of God, angels or Jesus – to be included. His broad definition is noteworthy, since de facto he limits his attention to epiphanies of miracle workers. His voice has gone largely unheeded, a point that can be seen in how Bultmann’s taxonomy of miracle stories is so often adopted along broad lines, while that of Theissen is ignored or otherwise dismissed, without justification (e.g. Cotter 1999). The question of terminology and the underlying conceptions with respect to what are called “miracles” in scholarship of the ancient world has been severely problematised. As is well-known, the Gospels do not have a fixed term (or set of terms) comparable to the English term “miracle,” the German term “Wunder,” the modern Hebrew term ‫ נס‬and so forth. Robert Garland (2011) notes how the miracle terminology that is used in the Gospels – δυνάμεις, ἔργα and so forth – and its underlying concepts are alien to nonJewish Greco-Roman terminology and its embedded cultural assumptions. The terminology best fits an ancient Jewish context. Zimmermann’s observation that, implicitly or explicitly, God’s power is always the source of miracles in the Gospels also favours a Jewish context. Other studies of the gospel miracle stories, discussed in the foregoing, confirm that Jewish sources are just as likely as, if not more than, non-Jewish ones to provide insight into what we are speaking about when we use the term “miracle” in relation to the Gospels. In such a context, it would seem appropriate to use “miracle” to indicate the (result of the) activity or otherwise unleashed power of a being that is positively portrayed (God or an intermediary) who has the ability to do

124 For example, Alkier and Weissenrieder’s (2013a) volume on “New Testament miracle stories” provides no definition of “miracle.” In the preface (Alkier and Weissenrieder 2013b: 1), the editors seem to adopt a conception of “miracle” that is standard in New Testament studies, as the examples given are “healings,” exorcisms” and “miraculous gifts or favors,” while epiphanies are not mentioned – yet “apocalypses” (as a genre) are included in an attempt to “expand the miracle-discourse.” The essay by Alkier and Moffitt (2013: 315), whose title echoes the volume’s title and which offers a survey of scholarship on biblical “miracles,” seems to define them as “signs, wonders, and powerful deeds, as well as... the ability to act in ways that exceed the limits of human possibilities.” The focus is on “the miracles done by Jesus and his followers,” though topics such as “prophecy, the virgin birth, the incarnation and the bodily resurrection of Jesus” (Alkier and Moffitt 2013: 315, 326) are also addressed.

48

Chapter 1: Introduction

feats that (regular) humans cannot do. 125 A human agent, of course, may in fact be the mediator of the activity/power of God. 126 Some would object to the notion that ancient Jews had a sense of the fixity of the order that God established at creation (e.g. Eve 2002: 1). Yet “fixity” is different than “immutability” – the concept of immutable laws of “nature” (established by a deist’s God) are endemic to the eighteenth-century debate and subsequent modern debates of whether or not “miracles” (understood within the deistic and similar, modern frameworks) are possible. 127 But the ancient Israelite and Jew, having no concept of “nature,” had in common the notion that God had fixed a certain order at creation. The Hebrew Bible relates that God established, for example, the foundation of the earth (Ps 24.2; Job 38.4–6); he also set a boundary for the sea (Jer 5.22; Prov 8.29; Job 38.8– 11). The fixity of the movement of the heavenly bodies, as well as the boundaries of the sea and so forth, are seen in Second Temple literature commonly enough (e.g. 1 En., 2 Bar.). Still, for Jews of this period, there was no final conflict if God exercised his prerogative and made exceptions to the rules. This sentiment is expressed aptly by Zakovitch (1987: 22), in relation to the Hebrew Bible: ‫במעשי ניסים הפורעים את סדריה הקבועים של הבריאה מוכיח ה׳ את שליטתו‬ 128 .‫בבריאה ובברואים‬

In some instances, a miracle can be identified as such precisely because God overrides the rules that God established earlier. Zakovitch’s definition of “miracle” (‫)נס‬, appropriate for the ancient Israelite and Judahite contexts as well as Jewish contexts, is even broader. It includes not just the aforementioned interruptions of the order established at creation, but also more mundane events that happen at precisely the right moment (Zakovitch 1987: 23): ‫ יצור או עצם כלשהו על בימת החיזיון בדיוק ברגע שבו הוא עונה על‬,‫הופעת אדם‬ 129 ....‫צורך חיוני‬

125

An intermediary may be a non-human being or a human that is portrayed as having in some way a more-than-human quality. For a similar definition see Basinger (2011; cf. also Zakovitch 1987). 126 It should be noted that a given human character can be portrayed in more than one light in a narrative. On one occasion s/he may be seen as human only, though having access to God’s power through, say, especially efficacious prayers, and in another s/he may appear as having in some way more-than-human qualities. 127 Such debate, which was foreign to the ancient Jewish worldview, has had a problematic hold on gospel studies over the past centuries – see Frey (1999). 128 “By performing miracles which tear asunder the constant order of the creation, God proves His control over all creation and all creatures.” Here and in what follows the English translation of Zakovitch is cited directly from Shmuel Himelstein’s translation (Zakovitch 1991).

Definitions

49

This expansion of what is commonly meant by the English “miracle” is instructive for our purposes. The definition supplies the basis, lacking in other approaches, for why it is appropriate to include some episodes among the gospel miracle stories, whether, for example, the unusual catch of a fish with a coin in its mouth at the right time (Mt 17) or someone’s restoration to health which occurs precisely when Jesus, at a distance, declares the healing (Jn 4). Thus, in discussion of the ancient Jewish context, it is best to understand a “miracle” as: a positively portrayed event (even harm inflicted on God’s enemies can be miracles!) that is caused by God, whether directly or through an intermediary. A miracle may be a theophany or the epiphany of an angel or some other heavenly being or the activity of a human portrayed as having in some way more-than-human qualities (epiphany in a narrower sense). An epiphany may bring essential knowledge and/or healing and/or provision of physical needs 130 and so forth. By beginning with a Jewish context for framing my definition of miracles in the Gospels I do not rule out the possibility that for any given story nonJewish influences or other, broader influences may be at play. But the question is where one should begin. The attempt here is to provide an emic specification for “miracle,” despite the incongruity of ancient and modern terminology, by concentrating on comparable concepts and, especially, episodes in an ancient literary context (see further, below) that help in formulating the definition. II. “Story” For the definition of “story” I draw on discourse analysis, a branch of linguistics concerned with communication at a level beyond the sentence. Robert Longacre (1996: 8) describes narrative discourse, to which “story” belongs, as concerned with “agent orientation” and “contingent temporal succession.” 131 Each gospel is to be taken in its entirety, of course, as a narrative. A unit of text within a gospel is a story, if a succession of events is principally in view. Negatively stated, I consider the criterion of contingent temporal succession to not be met when an identifiable section of material de129

“[T]he appearance of a person, creature or object at the exact moment when it is essential....” Zakovitch (1991: 29) adds, “It would appear to me that the difference between the ‘fortuitous occurrences’ in which God’s intervention is overt and direct, and those in which His intervention is not overt, is not significant.” 130 Note, for example, an angel may miraculously provide food and water of a normal quality: baked bread and a jar of water (1 Kgs 19.5–8). The same principal of a perfectly timed provision of food whose quality does not involve a breach in the laws established at creation may be at work also in miracle stories without an epiphanic element (e.g. 1 Kgs 17.6), though the occurrence involved is highly unusual. 131 For secondary parameters, see Longacre (1996: 9–11). Cf. Levinsohn (2000: 169) and Fanning (2011: 168–170).

50

Chapter 1: Introduction

scribes primarily summaries of occurrences, rather than narrating successive events per se. This differentiation rests on the understanding of foreground and background in narrative and the related understanding of mainline and offline material, especially with respect to the corresponding verbal forms in Hellenistic Greek. These concepts from discourse analysis – I rely especially on the work of Stephen Levinsohn, Randall Buth and Steven Runge – will be explained in greater detail in Chapter Two, Sections F, M and O. For now, the following comments are sufficient. Generally speaking, mainline events are narrated principally by the aorist indicative, though also by other forms, such as the historical present. In contrast, the imperfect typically depicts offline material. Moreover, certain connectives, such as γάρ, can introduce offline material in narrative contexts. Thus Mk 3.10–12, concerned with healings and exorcisms, does not meet the second criterion for being a story. I will return to this text in a moment, regarding stories that contain summaries of miracles. Of course identifying a given story within a larger narrative requires further examination. At the most basic level, a new unit, here a story, begins with a new sentence, not in the middle of one. Beyond this, the boundaries of each story are determined on the basis of thematic continuity within the unit and discontinuity of themes between it and the surrounding units. Given Longacre’s definition, a change in theme often, though not always, coincides with a change in cast or a specification of time, especially when such a temporal demarcation is fronted in the initial sentence. Changes in location may also be relevant. When the boundaries of a story are the object of significant dispute in scholarship, I will address them (in Section Q of the respective chapter, below). III. “Miracle story” Given the present study’s definitions of “miracle” and “story,” outlined in the foregoing, a definition of “miracle story” can follow naturally enough. I offer the following: A miracle story in the Gospels is a unit of text using narrative discourse (defined in a linguistic framework) in which the central theme or a significant theme in the succession of events pertains to a miracle (an interruption of the order established at creation or a more mundane, precisely timed event, resulting from the activity of God or an intermediary/agent or an epiphany), whether its occurrence and/or preparation for it and/or its aftermath.

While a more restrictive definition could be defended – for example, stating merely “the central theme” without adding “or a significant theme” – a broader definition is sought, so as to incorporate as much material as reasonably possible. For I am interested in the present study to analyse all possible instances of a response to a miracle that are narrated within a story. The defi-

Definitions

51

nition, thus, is not dependent on any particular concept of genre. Though one or more concepts of genre, ancient or modern, may correspond to the term “miracle story” for one or more of the Gospels, the approach leaves open the question of the appropriateness of any such concept. 132 When a miracle is presented as a mainline event, the assessment of whether it is a significant theme in the story at hand is dependent on more subjective criteria. Thus, for example, I determine the miraculous occurrences surrounding Jesus’ crucifixion in the Synoptics, though important, to be sufficiently subordinated to the theme of his suffering in each case so as not to consider the respective episode a miracle story. 133 Alternatively, offline descriptions of miracles, often coming as summaries, typically indicate that they are insufficiently germane to the stories’ themes. Thus Mk 3.7–12 does not qualify as a miracle story. The story centres on the inhibited movement of Jesus, being followed by an ever growing crowd, with an offline explanation (introduced with γάρ), involving healings and exorcisms, as to why he enters a boat. The approach adopted here, as noted above, gives room to an ancient Jewish conception of miracle. As a result, a distinctive feature of the present approach is the inclusion of epiphanic episodes under the rubric of miracle stories. The definition is only a starting point. The analyses of each gospel to follow, then, may serve as a further means of verifying or calling into question the appropriateness of the approach. Potential similarities between epiphany stories and other stories of the miraculous when it comes to “responses” (see below) – such as the frequency of their occurrence, their constituent components and various other qualitative and quantitative features – may constitute an important case in point. Thus, I will note at various points whether and to what extent the study confirms the definition adopted here. The analysis to follow will seek also to confirm or disconfirm the categorisation of various miracles stories as epiphanic. Theissen has claimed that the stilling of the storm and the walking on water are epiphanic episodes, alongside others, such as the transfiguration. To begin with I will refer to the first two stories as both epiphanies and rescue nature miracles.

132 For the present purposes this renders irrelevant the claims of Klaus Berger (1984a, 1984b), who has called into question the existence of a miracle story genre in the ancient world, arguing, rather, that the miraculous occurs in a number of Hellenistic genres, such as “demonstratio,” “mandatio” and “petitio.” Still, in light of the foregoing discussion, the question is already raised as to whether Berger’s proposed schema is able to do full justice to the data, since it subsumes some Jewish materials under categories determined by Greco-Roman rhetorical rubric. 133 Note the most difficult case is in Mt (27.54), where the centurion’s and the others’ sight of the earthquake and related happenings, explicitly, precedes their fear and speech.

52

Chapter 1: Introduction

IV. “Responses” A definition of “response” is needed that is robust enough to handle the data, which can be diverse. As a basic framework, I again adopt a linguistic approach, using discourse analysis. For the most part, the objects of study are discrete linguistic phenomena: A response is a sentence (or clause) or series of contiguous sentences (or clauses) narrating one or more characters’ (apprehension of a miracle and) actions and/or internal experience subsequent to the occurrence of a miracle.

A response may well involve the actions of different characters and/or character groups. The criterion that a response must be contained in the same sentence or contiguous sentences need not be rigidly adhered to, for sometimes relatively short intervening backgrounded material may appear in such series of clauses or sentences. Occasionally it might be allowed that events in the foreground intervene between components of a single response. A judgement on this matter will depend on literary, not linguistic, considerations. Generally, though, when events in the foreground intervene between actions of characters in reply to miracles, it is necessary to identify two distinct responses. From this point on, then, I reserve the term “response” for these formal or semi-formal phenomena under investigaion. A response may consist of various elements. The review of previous scholarship has brought to attention that emotions and speech are common responses or parts of responses. I, in part following the lead of Theissen, have thrown doubt on whether any one such feature is presented in a qualitatively consistent manner, such as in a purely positive light. Thus, for the purposes of comparison – both within a given gospel and, especially, between two or more gospels – it seems advisable to adopt a scheme that allows for variation in the quality of a given response, to be determined by consideration of the larger discourse, while breaking the response down into its constituent components based primarily on lexical semantics. This approach to identifying elements will be spelled out in more detail in Chapter Two, section D. V. “Emotion” There is a grave danger of anachronism in using the term “emotion” in reference to feelings in the ancient world (Lasater, forthcoming). The term’s introduction into modern discussion of psychology, facilitated by Scottish thinkers in the Humean tradition, corresponds to conceptual shifts in the 18th and 19th centuries. “Emotions” are understood within a conceptual framework that makes a conscious break with and is pitted against preceding anthropology and psychology. Previously, the influential thinkers in the Western tradition – including Plato, Aristotle, Augustine and a number other thinkers until early modern psychology – understood passions and affections

Definitions

53

to be movements of the soul which one should govern with reason. Modern psychology, in contrast, understands emotions to be involuntary states. A corollary is that a strict division was drawn between emotions and cognitive activity. I have argued, “One might justifiably continue to use the term ‘emotion’ if one were to be very clear about the way one uses it in distinction from its use in common parlance” (Kiffiak, forthcoming). This is the approach I am adopting here. Thus, in the study to follow, when I use “emotion” or “emotional” I do this in conscious rejection of the framework in which the term was coined and typically operates. I do not conceive of “emotions” as either involuntary or states. Nor do I take “emotions” to be without a causal relation to, let alone antithetical to, the exercise of cognitive faculties. Rather, in reference to the Gospels and the other ancient literature to be studied, I use “emotions” – as I would use “feelings” – to refer to movements of the soul that can be influenced by reason. Though room should be made for potential differences between the anthropological and psychological framework of the Gospels and, for example, that of Aristotle, Augustine and Aquinas, nevertheless the conceptual approach adopted here will be of greater advantage than using the modern notion of emotions and the framework it entails. VI. “Amazement,” “fear” and “being troubled” In a lexicographical study of Greek terminology for feelings (Kiffiak, forthcoming), focused on the gospel miracle stories, I show that semantic categories for fear and amazement are to be distinguished from one another. A further point is that terms expressing being anxious or troubled are closely related to those denoting fear (Kiffiak, forthcoming): …the categories of amazement, fear and being troubled can be meaningfully distinguished in the portions of text under consideration, with the first of these being more removed semantically from the other two.

Attention must be given to nuance, noting a few exceptions – for example, ἐκστῆναι may entail fear at times and ἐκθαμβηθῆναι occupies a space somewhere between high intensity amazement and fear. Nevertheless the categorisation scheme holds for the vast number of relevant lexemes. The results of the analysis are helpfully summarised in a table (see below, Table 1), taken as a heuristic tool, which indicates the relation between terms, according to intensity and semantic category.

54

Chapter 1: Introduction

Table 1: Lexemes for amazement, fear and being troubled 134, 135 Low Amazement

Fear

θαυμάσαι

Intensity Medium

High ἐκπλαγῆναι θαμβηθῆναι ἐκστῆναι θάμβος ἔκστασις ἐκθαμβηθῆναι φοβηθῆναι πτοηθῆναι ἔμφοβος φόβος ἔκφοβος τρόμος τρέμειν

Being troubled

ταραχθῆναι

(Further semantic nuance) 136 (being overwhelmed) (being beside oneself) (being beside oneself)

(physical trembling) (physical trembling)

διαταραχθῆναι

Secondary considerations confirm the assessment. This and related terminology appearing in similar contexts (Josephus’ Ant. 1–11; Philo’s Moses) also fit into the categorisation scheme. Within the Gospels, collocations come to bear on the topic, as a strong tendency is observed for the posturing of the body upon or towards the ground to be accompanied by fear rather than amazement. The implications for the study of responses are as follows (Kiffiak, forthcoming): It is no longer acceptable to place, e.g., φοβηθῆναι and θαυμάσαι side-by-side without differentiation in a category of affective responses labelled Eindruck, Admiration or “wonder.”

In what follows, “amazement,” “fear” and “being troubled,” when referring to groups of lexemes, pertain to those so labeled in Table 1. I will discuss ἐκθαμβηθῆναι in Chapter Two.

C. Reference to Greek Verbs I generally use aorist infinitives in generic reference to verbs. 137 When use of the aorist is rare or not attested for a given verb, I use the continuative aspect 134

The table is reproduced from Kiffiak (forthcoming). In the table verbs are placed in boxes beside one another horizontally, as are nouns and adjectives, jointly. 136 Further semantic nuance, where relevant, applies only to the term contained in the same box as the phrase contained in parentheses. Light shading indicates that the “high” intensity range is not relevant for the boxes in question. 137 Similarly, Buth 2004. To my mind, the following considerations are good grounds for this procedure. First, the approach avoids the production of artificial forms of verbs, not occurring in Hellenistic literature (e.g. φοβέω*). Second, use of the infinitive is natu135

Methodology

55

infinitive (e.g. εἶναι). Rarely, for verbs that typically employ a perfect conjugation (e.g. οἶδα), I refer to them with the perfect infinitive (e.g. εἰδέναι).

D. Methodology The tasks that lie ahead involve, in the first place, narrative-critical investigation. I will undertake also redaction-, source- and tradition-historical-critical analyses. In addition, discourse analysis, a branch of linguistics, will play an important part in the study. The foregoing review of scholarship has helped to set the tenor for the ways in which the present study will seek to overcome short-comings in previous approaches, for a variety of sub-disciplines. Rather than spell out the respective methodologies here, I will do so at the appropriate junctures in the chapters that follow.

E. Procedure This being the first study dedicated to responses in the miracle stories of the Gospels, there is much work to do. For, as this chapter has shown, while responses are clearly a significant aspect of gospel miracle stories, their relevance has often been obscured on account of the lingering force of the formand redaction-critical paradigm, though a host of its weaknesses has been exposed as scholarship has advanced over the past hundred years. Indeed, vestiges of the paradigm can be seen even in the work of those who consciously adopt methodologies and approaches to understanding the Gospels that are otherwise at basic odds with the form critics. The study should begin with an analysis of each extant piece of literature on its own terms. Thus, a chapter is dedicated to each gospel – Mark (Chapter Two), Matthew (Chapter Three), Luke (Chapter Four), John (Chapter Five). In each case I will analyse the use of the response motif in miracle stories as the respective narrative unfolds, employing narrative criticism, along with discourse analysis. In this first part of the study – “towards artistry” – my attention will be shifted towards authorial creativity. How are responses used in ways specific to a given gospel in order to advance plot-lines and to serve characterisation? Not just the miracle stories themselves and the responses they contain need analysis, but also the overall narratives in which these storally more conducive to thinking and speaking abstractly about the relevant action or state. Third, infinitives were employed in comparable discourses in the ancient world. Fourth, in a majority of cases, the aorist infinitive is the most appropriate one. It can be added that various modern lexicons, also concordances, list verbs using infinitives, albeit for the continuative aspect.

56

Chapter 1: Introduction

ries are situated and form an integral part. Such a comprehensive approach is necessary since, despite voluminous work published on the gospel miracle stories, for any single gospel such an investigation has not been conducted previously. At the same time, data will be collected for each gospel whose full relevance will not be appreciated until the second part of the study. The four chapters in Part One will be the lion’s share of the study. The other end of the spectrum concerns the influence of tradition on the Gospels. Analysis of the responses in this regard will occur primarily in Part Two – “towards tradition” – which consists of Chapters Six and Seven, but also in two sections earlier in the study, at the end of Chapters Three and Four, respectively. The influence of tradition is conceived of in different ways. I will evaluate the explanatory power of the three most well-known solutions to the Synoptic Problem in light of the responses at the end of Chapters Three and Four. In Chapter Six I will broaden the scope and examine the interrelations of all four of the Gospels, considering in detail also the potential role of the oral tradition about Jesus in the formation of whatever response features are held in common among the Gospels. This chapter will be lengthy as I seek to be comprehensive in the comparison of each gospel’s profile. Yet even in this chapter the question of the potential creative use of traditional motifs arises. For it is possible that the oral tradition about Jesus as a whole is innovative to some degree – that it possesses features that may be reasonably deemed uniquely characteristic of it. Finally, I will conduct, as a probative exercise, a comparative analysis of some Jewish and non-Jewish miracle stories in an effort to contribute towards answering the question of the tradition-historical influences on the formation of the miracle stories in the Jesus tradition (Chapter Seven). Here issues of definition arise again. For, the concept of miracle adopted here, involving the working of God’s power, does not fit easily in the non-Jewish context. Nevertheless, comparison with non-Jewish texts containing mighty deeds and epiphanies, along with figures’ responses to them that are roughly comparable to such features in the Gospels, will be a sufficient solution to the difficulty.

Part One Towards Artistry

Chapter 2

Mark And, in any case, as is true of all original art, what is really interesting is not the schema of convention but what is done in each individual application of the schema to give it a sudden tilt of innovation or even to refashion it radically for the imaginative purposes at hand. 1

The first task of this study is to examine each gospel, on its own terms, with regard to the responses in miracle stories. Aspects of both literary and linguistic approaches will be employed. I begin with Mark for a number of reasons. Since it is shorter and, among the Synoptics, contains fewer miracle stories, analysis of it first will allow room for the necessary theoretical and methodological discussions, the essentials of which will be assumed in later chapters. Such extended discussions fit best with Mark, anyway, since so much has been published on it. 2 The cumulative insights of literary studies will enable the present investigation to be conducted with relative agility. 3 Miracle stories play, proportionately, a greater role in this gospel, owing especially to the smaller amount of direct discourse. 4 The guiding question is whether and to what extent the response motif, seen in light of the larger narrative of Mark, has a common function, or, alternatively, diversity in its employment can be detected. As per the sentiment of Robert Alter, cited above, I am interested here not merely in describing the motif of miracle responses, identifying its various constituent elements, noting the settings and characters with which they appear and so forth, but also, and even more, in appreciating the various ways that the narrator 5 employs 1

Alter 1981: 52; cf. 62. Investigating Mk first may have an added benefit of being an easier or more valued point of entry for the majority of New Testament scholars, that is, those who assume its chronological priority. 3 See Moore (1989: 7) on some historical factors behind Mk’s centrality in literary studies of the Gospels. 4 In the first part of Mk, in particular, the stories have a prominent role. Variables are fewer, too, since Jesus, as an adult, is present in every miracle story, save one. 5 As most literary critics of Mk, I see no distinction between the evaluative norms of the narrator and the implied author. Rimmon-Kenan (2002: 89, 97) correctly understands the “implied author” as “a set of implicit norms rather than as a speaker or a voice” – even 2

60

Chapter 2: Mark

(or does not employ) this scheme of convention for a potential variety of effects as the narrative unfolds. Does the author-redactor of Mark employ the response motif with singularity of function? One might well expect an affirmative answer. In a traditional line of approach, various studies have argued for such a position. Elizabeth Struthers Malbon sees in emotional responses to miracles one of a variety of features that bring the disciples and the crowd together, portrayed as Jesus’ fallible followers. For Timothy Dwyer “wonder,” which includes emotional responses to miracles, serves to depict God’s kingdom breaking in through Jesus. While these scholars are attentive, to varying degrees, of potential differences in the employment of the response motif, they see it in its essence as a supporting some larger, unified theme. Yet there are reasons to anticipate a negative answer to the question. For at a basic level it can be seen that the miracle stories occur at different points in the narrative and, thus, are incorporated differently into the plot. For example, the first story in which Jesus performs a healing or exorcism, in Capernaum, concludes with a response of amazement and a question about Jesus’ authority and teaching. In later contexts, including responses in miracle stories, various characters offer their answers to the question of who Jesus is. Alternatively, in its extant form the larger narrative famously ends on a note of suspense – the women disciples at the tomb do not obey the angel’s command to proclaim Jesus’ resurrection. The angelophany, as a miracle story (see above, Chapter One), contains the response motif employed for a very different function than in the exorcism in Capernaum, for example. At the same time that I will conduct the stated narrative-critical analysis of Mark in this chapter, I will collect data here in such a way that they can be usefully referred to in later discussions of source-critical and traditionhistorical questions, to be addressed especially in Chapters Six and Seven, respectively (also in sections of Chapters Three and Four). Given the overall structure of the study, the said procedure is advantageous. Nevertheless, because analysis in the present chapter is at times of a very technical nature, the reader may want initially to just browse some sections, returning to them later, once the implications from the analysis in the present chapter – or in Chapter Six – have already become apparent. For the narrative-critical analysis of Mark, the most important section of the present chapter is Section Q. 6 dialogue is “quoted” by the narrator. (I note that I use her theory for a narrative that claims to be a record of fact; see below, n. 26.) This understanding helps to elucidate the problematic nature of Malbon’s (2009a: 236, n. 16) position, who cites Dawsey (1986) as another work that sees a difference between the norms of the narrator and implied author, though she does not engage the criticism of Dawsey’s position by Moore (1989: 30–34). 6 Nevertheless, before turning to Section Q, it will be of great help to read first at least Sections A–D, H–K and P.

State of the Question

61

A. State of the Question Methodological points to be made in this section apply to some degree also to the other gospels. Thus I will consider these matters in detail here, though in the chapters to follow many observations made here will not be repeated, except to adjust the method to the material at hand. Narrative criticism, a form of literary criticism originating in the late 1970s and unique to biblical, mostly New Testament, studies, offered the first attempts at the sorely needed analysis of a given gospel’s narrative in its entirety. This method or “reading strategy,” based in large part on the (extrabiblical) literary theory of narratology, has since flourished. 7 As alluded to above, it has had a lively interaction with Mark. 8 But, to the best of my knowledge, a detailed examination of a key conventional scheme employed by the Gospels, that is, responses in miracles stories, has not been undertaken. And there is good reason to continue using a narrative critical approach, despite the fact that the broader discipline of literary theory (especially in France and the United States) is typically poststructuralist and, recently, even “posttheoretical.” 9 Edwin K. Broadhead is the only scholar, to my knowledge, to have conducted a focused and sustained literary study of the miracle stories in Mark.

7 For an overview of narrative criticism’s history and delineation of its various branches’ aims see Powell (2011). Powell (2009: 55–56) proposes that “‘narrative criticism’ can be presented as one of several types of reader-response criticism, if the latter term is taken in its broader sense.” For a review of narrative criticism’s early inroads into gospel studies, see Moore (1989). For further bibliography on narrative criticism and its application to Mk see Malbon (2009a: 8, n. 20) and Naluparayil (2000b: 291, n. 2; 292, n. 3). 8 One reviewer states, “[S]tudying Mark as a narrative text has become the state of the art,” (Breytenbach 2011: 20). 9 Moore, addressing the broader field of literary theory (and “posttheory”) and its relation to New Testament literary criticism, is correct: the guild could benefit from more studies using approaches which read “against the grain of authorial intentionality” (2007: 5). Yet, his case is overstated, as is his related criticism of the importance given to narrative criticism. Rimmon-Kenan (2002: 146) convincingly argues for the continuing relevance of narratology as “a self-conscious reflection, a conceptual framework, a set of hypotheses having explanatory power.” She acknowledges the positive effects “‘postclassical’ narratologies” have had. Yet, she avers, “Narratology, even of the classical brand, still ‘works,’ I believe, for historical and anthropological reasons...” (Rimmon-Kenan 2002: 145). A similar case can be made mutatis mutandis for narrative criticism. Moreover, as Powell (2009: 59–60) observes, “Even scholars who ultimately want to interpret the text in accord with some other literary scheme usually start with a narrative-critical analysis in order to (a) lay a foundation on which they can build with supplemental insights or (b) define the accepted or traditional literary understanding, which they might subsequently hope to contest or challenge.”

62

Chapter 2: Mark

In his view, “a unified narrative strategy... employs the miracle stories... to generate a unified narrative portrait of Jesus” (Broadhead 1992: 191). He sees Jesus characterised, principally, as a “mighty teacher.” 10 His work is to be commended for situating each story’s analysis in relation to the narrative’s unfolding. 11 While the central thesis seems overstated, his point is well taken that characterisation of Jesus is often of importance in individual miracle stories and throughout the larger narrative; and in some cases his teaching is a key part of the resultant picture. 12 The present analysis will re-examine this issue of characterisation. Also it will investigate how miracle stories contribute to the development of the narrative’s overall plot and their relation to focalisation (or point of view) – issues which Broadhead did not address. Unlike his form-critical predecessors (see below), Broadhead does not discuss responses to miracles as a motif in and of itself. 13 His vague notion of the “action” of “responding” 14 would benefit from the identification of subcategories. 15 Since for him a “motif” is not an action alone, but a combination 10

“The central focus of this portrait is the teaching ministry of Jesus” (Broadhead 1992: 209). 11 He regularly offers “extended synchronic analysis,” discussing the miracle stories within the larger narrative. 12 “Broadhead tends to import the theme of Jesus’ teaching into passages where it is not present... to overemphasize it when it is only a minor element... or to set it over against miracle working when Mark merely juxtaposes the two activities...” (Marcus 1994: 221, giving a number of examples). 13 Dormeyer’s (2013) nine-page introduction to the Markan miracle stories in KFW1, similarly, scarcely mentions responses. One might have expected discussion here more than in relation to the other gospels, on account of the importance of miracle stories in Mk. 14 Broadhead (1992: 196–197) aims for a “descriptive morphological analysis,” not a “reductionistic” one. Yet his catalogue of 13 “actions” raises the question of the descriptive nature of the analysis, especially with regards to “responding.” Rather than “victim responds” (Broadhead 1992: 154), a passive verb would better describe ἐγένετο ὡσεὶ νεκρός (Mk 9.26), which follows an exorcism. ἠγέρθη... ἐξῆλθεν (2.12) might be described as “demonstration of victim’s healing” and “victim departs,” rather than “victim responds” (Broadhead 1992: 75). Eating and becoming full in 6.42 and 8.8 are narrated as simple actions, not as responses to any specific speech or gesture (“crowd responds” [Broadhead 1992: 117, 134]). On the absence, in fact, of responses here, see below, Section Q. Other problematic instances include “opponents depart” (Broadhead 1992: 80) for ἐξελθόντες... συμβούλιον ἐδίδουν (3.6), where plotting not departing is given prominence. This is a response to a miracle. 15 “Responding” in various stories often is or includes a response to a miracle (“disciples respond”: four of seven instances; “crowd responds”: six of 12; “victim responds”: three of 10) – note Broadhead’s [1992: 132, 137, 158, 168, 194] table on p. 194 is missing four instances of “victim responds” and one of “opponent responds,” as identified in his analysis). Responses occurring within verbal intercourse is another sub-category that might be demarcated. Cf. also n. 16 below.

State of the Question

63

of “action” and “agent,” certain “responses” of “disciples,” “crowds” and “victims,” which share commonalities, are never considered together (Broadhead 1992: 193). 16 A more robust understanding of the disciples’ characterisation will help to improve analysis of responses to miracles. 17 At any rate, when it comes de facto to such responses, Broadhead seems to be working within a residual framework created by form critics, since he occasionally identifies responses using technical terminology (e.g. he refers to a verbal response as “acclamation” [Broadhead 1992: 111]). 18 I will address the types of elements in responses to miracles toward the end of this section. Notably, it seems that a meaningful distinction between responses of amazement and fear can be made. 19 In examining the characterisation of the “disciples” and the “crowd” in light of one another, Elizabeth Struthers Malbon, a scholar known for her detailed and excellent analysis of Markan characters, concludes that “the disciples and the crowd – especially taken together – do evoke a composite image of the followers, the fallible followers, of Jesus” (Malbon 2000: 96). Her analysis addresses inter alia the emotional element in the responses in miracle stories. 20 The present research will build on her insight that for emo16

Six of the nine “role slots” identified in miracle stories – “miracle worker,” “disciples,” “crowd,” “opponent,” “victim,” “representative” (i.e. all save the narrator, God and the “witnesses” [Elijah and Moses]) – are “linked” to the “action” of “responding” (Broadhead 1992: 53–54). This action alone enjoys such distribution. The only other actions for “crowd,” “opponent,” “victim” and “representative,” pertain to entering and exiting. There are ample grounds, therefore, for addressing certain “responses” shared by a number of “agents,” jointly, as motifs in their own right. 17 Broadhead (1992: 193) speaks of “a generic portrait for the disciples.” For criticism of this idea in general and the particular importance of complexity in characterisation of the disciples in miracle stories, see discussion to follow. 18 Note Broadhead’s (1992: 14–16) general interaction with and affirmation of form critics. From his piecemeal statements, it seems he is aware of three types of responses to miracles: emotional, verbal and reporting responses. The emotional element mostly seems envisioned as something distinct. It is less clear that what I will call “reporting” is understood by him to be distinct: see, e.g., “report ‘about him’”; “to preach and to proclaim ‘the word’”; “to ‘preach’”; and, especially, “by preaching, by marveling and by spreading the acclamation of the deeds of Jesus” (Broadhead 1992: 60, 73, 100, 133, emphasis added), where “preaching” and “spreading acclamation” are seen as distinct. 19 In contrast, Broadhead attempts to distinguish between two types of fear (in Mk 4.35–5.1; 6.47–53): “cowardice” and “epiphanic fear” (1992: 94, 126; cf. 99, 149–151 [on “epiphanic” fear and fear pertaining to “failure to understand” in 5.15 and 9.6 respectively]). Amazement (ἐκστῆναι; 5.42), too, can be “epiphanic” (Broadhead 1992:107). 20 This comes as part of an analysis of “a response of amazement, astonishment, and even fear in relation to Jesus [i.e. his miracles, teaching, transfiguration, predictions and ‘Jesus himself’]” (Malbon 2000: 85). She, like Broadhead, does not follow the lead of form critics (see below) and identify responses to miracles as a motif in its own right.

64

Chapter 2: Mark

tional responses (whether to a miracle or not) an interrelation exists between the disciples and crowds. Rather than claim, however, that a common response is in view, I will argue that the narrator employs a common motif for different ends. The present research will build, therefore, albeit in a different direction, on Malbon’s (2000: 87) observation of variation in use of the motif: “...the disciples’ amazement [sic] is never noted... and the crowd’s amazement most frequently noted in response to Jesus’ healing activity.” 21 It should be added that, conversely, the disciples respond to miracles of a more rare, more powerful nature, 22 which occur in private. This will be demonstrated in the analysis to follow. The emotional elements in responses further distinguish between the crowds (and others) and the disciples: generally speaking, amazement (only) and fear or being troubled (at times, coupled with amazement) respectively. 23 Also, emotional responses to teaching are always amazement. 24 The potential significance of the omission or inversion of a motif – for example, Jesus’ amazement at the lack of faith, while performing only a few miracles, in place of the recipients’ response (Mk 6.6) – should be considered. I will diversify Malbon’s set of characters. Various region-specific crowds can be identified, as can some individual minor characters. Larger and more exclusive groups of disciples occur. As with Broadhead’s work, I will expand the field of inquiry engaged by Malbon to include plot and focalisation. Characters. 25 Examination of Broadhead’s and Malbon’s work brings the issue of Markan characters to the fore. The issue has been engaged by Justin Taylor (2011) in a number of fascinating ways in a recent study calling for far-reaching re-evaluation of the literary nature of the four canonical gospels. Taylor turns his attention to the complexity in the portrayal of Pilate and Judas, allocating a chapter to them alone. He concludes that the evident ambivalence in their characterisation is a tell-tale sign of “history” writing, reflecting the complexity and messiness of reality, and not “legend.” 26 The 21 Though Malbon refers to “amazement,” the disciples’ fear, in fact, is important in miracle stories. 22 For Malbon (2000: 87) the “three women” in Mk 16.5–8 “act like disciples.” The young man’s appearance there, likely an epiphany, is a rarer type of miracle, though not as powerful as the others the disciples are privy to. 23 Though, in making this claim I will argue, contrary to Malbon, that the women followers of Jesus are in some substantial way to be more closely associated with the Twelve then the crowds are. See below. 24 ἐκπλαγῆναι: Mk 1.22; 6.2; 10.26; 11.18. θαμβηθῆναι: 1.27; 10.24. ἐκθαυμάσαι: 12.17 (Pharisees and Herodians). φοβηθῆναι in 9.32 does not pertain, explicitly at least, to Jesus’ teaching about his passion and resurrection. 25 Cf. Rimmon-Kenan 2002: 29-42; Chatman 1978: 96–145. 26 Taylor (2011: 97, 98) clarifies: “To say that the Gospel narratives of Jesus’ trial before Pilate show typical features of ‘history’... is not thereby to affirm that everything in

State of the Question

65

common practice, then, of painting the Jewish and Roman authorities with one brush stroke, should give way to nuance. 27 Related is the attention given, generally, to the individual in the Gospels, a topic Taylor examines in another chapter. In contrast to the literary convention of the day, in which an individual is “represented as an example of a class or type, whose moral qualities are given in advance,” the “Gospels know only the distinction between those who are re-made by their encounter with Jesus and those who stay unaffected” (Taylor 2011: 67). 28 Another keen observation Taylor makes is related: the narratives of the Gospels – without parallel in the ancient world – give realistic yet serious portrayal of individuals of low social standing. 29 Examining some minor characters as illustrative them is factually accurate,” rather, he continues, “we are recognizing that they reflect the opaqueness, ambiguity and hesitations of reality; the evangelists have not opted for a clear narrative line in which Pilate’s actions are consistent and his motives evident. A narrative of this latter kind would belong rather to the class of ‘legend.’” The general classification of “history” writing – i.e. any “discourse that claims to be a record of fact” (Taylor 2011: 97; citing Sternberg 1985: 25) – is to be distinguished from, say, the specific Hellenistic genre of historiography. Note, Taylor’s comments on Pilate pertain to all four gospels; those on Judas pertain primarily to Mt and Jn. 27 Rhoads and Michie (1982) and Rhoads et al. (1999; 2012) may serve as a representative, to some extent, of current perspectives. (Due to one important, unfortunate change [see below, n. 46] in the third edition [Rhoads et al. 2012], I have opted to interact with the second edition, which was “substantially rewritten throughout, with no page remaining unchanged” [Rhoads et al. 1999: xi]. The third edition did not undergo such revision.) For these authors the “authorities” are one of four “main characters or character-groups,” comprising also Jesus, the disciples and “the minor characters” – a more precise designation for the last group, as they envision it, would be, it seems, “suppliants” (Rhoads et al. 1999: 98). In addition to these, the one actual minor character they consider – and here their terminology becomes confused – is “the crowds.” Thus, no individual character, other than Jesus, is treated in her or his own right. In a similar way, Malbon (2009a: 120) treats Pilate under “Roman authorities,” a subset of the main character-group “authorities,” and is seen as a parallel to Herod, that is, “as a type of ‘the tyrant.’” 28 This is another “noteworthy innovation in the literature of late antiquity. For, once again, they [the Gospels] show their independence of the prevailing canons of writing. According to those canons, characters were to be represented as examples (or ‘illustrations’) of generic types. Furthermore, each of these was a moral type or, at least, was associated with well-defined moral qualities” (Taylor 2011: 66). Thus, Malbon’s view (see above, n. 27) that Pilate is portrayed as a “type” of “the tyrant” is again subject to criticism. Note, Rhoads et al. (1999: 130) seem aware that “in Mark’s portrayals... no group is fixed in its response and that a positive response from any character is welcome.” Nevertheless, their analysis has little room for the “exceptions.” 29 Here, too, the Gospels come closer to “history” writing than fiction. They are in some substantial, entirely novel way representing reality in their narratives (Taylor 2011: 37). Peter’s denial is a key case in point (Taylor 2011: 18–21). For my purposes, the immediate ramification is that more attention to the variety of responses in miracle stories is needed.

66

Chapter 2: Mark

examples, he finds they have differing, individualised responses to Jesus (not just to his miracles), on occasion negative, even tragic. 30 The tendency among narrative critics has been to see only Jesus and the disciples as “round” characters in Mark. 31 This tendency must be amended. And, at any rate, E. M. Forster’s taxonomy should give way to the more robust one of Joseph Ewen (in Shlomith Rimmon-Kenan’s revised version of it). Characters can be described in terms of three continua: “complexity, development, penetration into the ‘inner life’” (Rimmon-Kenan 2002: 41). While such an approach to characterisation has been picked up in the study of the Fourth Gospel, especially by Cornelis Bennema – a topic we will return to in due time – the study of Mark has generally benefited much less from the scholarly advances. 32 Another tendency has been to see the “minor characters,” generally, as a cohesive group. 33 This, too, should give way to important nuance. These observations can be profitably focused on miracle stories. The various responses of suppliants and/or recipients or observers reveal a wide range of characterisation, 34 for example, of the various crowds, which exhibit varying degrees of complexity (whether negative and/or positive traits), capacity to develop and revealed ‘inner life.’ Another example is the leper, who is both full of faith and yet disastrously recalcitrant to Jesus’ instructions and mission for him. Indeed, the responses play an important role in the characterisation of many characters. This will all be explored below. The final related issue pertains to the characterisation of Jesus. Again, I turn to an important insight of Taylor. Using the theory of Northrop Frye, Taylor shows how in each gospel various pericopae move through several levels of narration – even within a pericope this can happen – ranging from “the lower mimetic” to “fantasy,” “romance” and, even, the “mythic” level of

30

On the “figure that touches the tragic” in Mk 10.17–22 and parallels, see Taylor (2011: 76–77). 31 Cf. e.g. Rhoads et al. 1999: 99–103. Similarly, many interpreters view the disciples, as a group, to be the only character to develop throughout the narrative: e.g. Tolbert (1989: 195). 32 Skinner (2014: 23–24, 27–29), while recognizing the short-comings in the work of Rhoads et al., does not put the work of Malbon under a critical eye. 33 See above, n. 27, on Rhoads et al. See also Malbon (2009a), whose view of the Markan characters is more nuanced, though still largely along the same lines. She sees that the “minor characters around Jesus,” effectively treated as a major character, “occur in three sequential sets,” exemplifying faith, “fallible followership” and “suffering and service” (Malbon 2000: 204–205). Note the greater precision of Malbon’s designation. The minor characters “around Jesus” are “suppliants,” “exemplars” or, most often, both. (The “crowd” is a kind of minor character, largely aligned with the disciples [Malbon 2000: 70– 99], as discussed above.) 34 On characterisation see Rimmon-Kenan (2002: 59–71).

State of the Question

67

narration. 35 The variation in narration level pertains especially to the miracle stories. Through use of a mythic level of narration Jesus is portrayed as a divine being. 36 Ultimately, Taylor argues that the impulse for this remarkable innovation in literary style must be found in the impression made by Jesus himself on his contemporaries. 37 Important for the present purposes is the potential for patterns in correlation between the respondents and the types of their responses, on the one hand, and the various levels of narration of the miracle stories, on the other. Plot. 38 In discussing Broadhead and Malbon’s work, I have mentioned the need for further attention to the overall plot in relation to miracle responses. Of the competing conceptions of the principal plot-line – at times radically diverging, at times only nuanced permutations – I accept, along broad lines, that of R. Alan Culpepper (2007: 49): “Indeed, much of the plot of Mark revolves around how the secret of Jesus’ identity comes to be known.” 39 35 Taylor (2011: 129–136) relates this narrative technique to that in J. R. R. Tolkien’s trilogy, The Lord of the Rings. 36 Frye’s (1957: 33) definition of myth, to which Taylor refers, is a story of a hero “superior in kind both to other men [sic] and to the environment of other men [sic]”; i.e. a story in which “the hero is a divine being... a story about a god” (emphasis original). 37 His impact was profoundly earthy and brought dignity to a great variety of individuals, especially the underprivileged; at the same time an uncanny aspect of him, “a reality beyond that of everyday,” surfaced at unexpected moments (Taylor 2011: 137). His followers, in attempting to render him “more truly” to their contemporaries, felt constrained to narrate his interactions with fisherman and the like realistically, while venturing everso-often into other narration levels, thereby creating an entirely new literary style. The phrase refers to the “masters of the modern novel,” who “aim at verisimilitude” but “may depart from realistic narrative... in order to render the real more truly” (Taylor 2011: 128). 38 Cf. Rimmon-Kenan 2002: 6–28; Chatman 1978: 43–95. 39 Petersen (1978a: 49–80, 78–79) claims “the plot... is oriented to the suspense attending the disciples’ ignorance of Jesus’ identity....” For Tannehill (1979: 61, 62), the plot is the fulfillment “of the commission which Jesus received from God” and “the title Son of God,” which has a “special connection” with the commission, “can only be understood in light of the complete Markan narrative.” Kingsbury (1983: ix, 173) traces “the development of the motif of the secrecy of Jesus’ identity” in “consideration of the plot,” the motif being one of the “two major aspects to Mark’s portrait of Jesus.” For Tolbert (1989: 288) “the major issue of the Passion narrative or recognition sequence” is “Jesus’ true identity as Son of God.” For Hooker (1991: 20) “every part of Mark’s story makes implicit claims on his [Jesus’] behalf” and the use of “titles as the climax of particular stories,” in confessions, “point Mark’s readers to the true interpretation of the story which he has been telling.” For Naluparayil (2000b: 309) the principal story line is the “disclosure of Jesus’ divine identity.” For Moloney (2002: 17) Jesus “revealed as Son of God on the cross” answers the question giving the plot movement, “can he be the Messiah?” The plot is alternatively understood, e.g., as concerning Jesus’ conflict with the disciples – especially Rhoads et al. (1999: 73); Malbon (2009a: 49); see below, nn. 46, 48. (For further bibliography on plot in Mk see Naluparayil [2000b: 295, n. 19].)

68

Chapter 2: Mark

Thus, the plot has a stronger than normal link to the protagonist’s characterisation. He is revealed “specifically as the Son of God” (Culpepper 2007: 18– 19) – on the meaning of this term, see below. 40 This pertains to the implied audience (hereafter “audience”), 41 with the climactic disclosure (primarily suspense, not surprise, is at play) 42 coming at Jesus’ crucifixion, with the centurion’s statement. 43 It is worth noting that the majority of conceptions of Mark’s plot place the climax at roughly this specific juncture – or, generally, at the crucifixion episode at any rate. 44 Yet, a closely related subplot, the 40

That Jesus’ identity in Mk is best encapsulated by “Son of God” is accepted by many but by no means all. For an overview of positions see Johansson (2011); and Naluparayil (2000a). Other narrative critics who adopt this position include Tannehill (1979: 61–62, 74–75, 88), Kingsbury (1983: 142) and Hooker (2000: 86–87). Johansson (2011: 373) notes Kingsbury “argues... that the ‘secret’ [in Mk] is a ‘Son of God’ secret rather than a ‘messianic’ secret’”; and “the veil is not lifted until the death of Jesus.” This is a better alternative to the influential theory of Wrede (1971). 41 Despite the incongruity, I, as some other critics of the Gospels, refer to an “implied audience” (like the “implied reader,” the term refers to “a construct... an ‘it’” [RimmonKennan 2002: 120]), instead of “narratee(s),” as the counter-part to the “narrator.” Two reasons support this. An extradiegetic narratee is “parallel to or identical with the implied reader” (Rimmon-Kenan 2002: 105). “Audience” captures better (than “reader”) the oral social context likely envisioned for Mk to be read in. 42 On “suspense” and “surprise” as technical terms see Chatman (1978: 59–62). 43 See Culpepper 2007: 19, 563–564. The centurion is plausibly not aware of the full meaning of his own words within the narrative (Mk 15.39). Their meaning is known only to the narrator and audience. Here I seem to depart from Culpepper’s view. For a view similar to mine see Donahue and Harrington (2002: 449). Fowler (1991: 204–209, 208) claims “we have no certainty whatsoever that the centurion’s locution is either accurate or sincere.” For Myers (1988: 394) the centurion demonstrates “the hostile response of those struggling to gain power over Jesus by ‘naming’ him.” 44 (A) The centurion’s statement (Mk 15.39): Perrin and Duling (1982: 254; cf. 253, though, on 14.61–62 and 14.72 each as “the climax”); Tolbert (1989: 288); Hooker (1991: 19, 379; cf. 392, though, re. the apparent absent “climax,” i.e., “an appearance of the risen Lord”); Matera (1999: 22); Donahue and Harrington (2002: 242, 449). (B) The tearing of the temple curtain and the centurion’s statement (15.38–39): Moloney (2002: 328–331; cf. 276, though, on 14.1–15.47, generally, as the climax). (C) The tearing of the temple curtain: Myers (1988: 390). (D) Jesus’ last breath (15.37): Naluparayil (2000b: 416; cf. 425, though, on “the women’s failure” functioning “as the climax of the failure of the disciples...”); cf. Powell (2009: 134). (E) The “death cry of Jesus... and the curtain of the temple being torn in two”: Fowler – note he nowhere uses the term climax, yet the centurion’s statement is already “a grand denouement” (Fowler 1991: 202, 208). The crucifixion scene, generally, is the climactic one for many interpreters: e.g., Tannehill (1979: 88); Hooker (1991: 19, 371–379) and Johnson (2010: 161) – though Johnson and, especially, Hooker (1991: 375) lay emphasis on Jesus’ “cry of dereliction.” Even for Malbon (2009a: 123) “the crucifixion scene is the climax,” despite her conception of the plot (see above, n. 39). Longacre (1999), approaching the question from the point of view of

State of the Question

69

disciples’ comprehension of Jesus’ identity, does not reach its peak – suspense is held on this point until the close of the narrative, though the final attainment of the goal in the future of the narrative world is not in doubt, since it has been prophetically foretold by Jesus. 45 Both of these aspects of the plot are related to a variety of conflicts between Jesus and other human characters who, like the disciples, ultimately fail to grasp his identity – in contrast to the non-human characters, i.e. God (Mk 1.11; 9.7) and the unclean spirits (3.11; 5.7). 46 Various authorities and crowds, owing to their failure to grasp this, contribute to the achievement of Jesus’ execution, the climactic scene. 47 The disciples’ developing, though hampered, understanding of Jesus’ identity is related, of course, to their difficulty in following him, both metaphorically and physically – another important subplot. 48 discourse analysis, also identifies Jesus’ crucifixion (and his beating and mocking) as the climax of the narrative. See below, Section F. Some alternate views are as follows. For Broadhead (2001: 138) the narrative “reaches a climax in the scene at the tomb.” For Rhoads et al. (1999: 92), it seems, Peter’s renouncing Jesus and flight is the climax – i.e. the peak of the conflict with the disciples. (The conflict with the “authorities,” reaches its peak at “Jesus’ trial” before the high priest [Rhoads et al. 1999: 87; though cf. 89 – where Jesus’ execution is included]). As described below (n. 46), they now hold that the climax is in chapter one. Some see the climax midway. Mk 8.27–9.13: Morrison (2008); see n. 52, below. Mk 8.27–9.7(–8?): Burch (1931: 349, n. 6; 350; 352). Mk 8.27–30: Smith (1995: 213–217) and Bilezikian (1977: 78–79). Cf. also Standaert (1978: 48), who sees Mk 8.34–9.1 as “le point central de toute la composition du récit évangélique,” though not the climax of a plot per se. On Petersen’s view of sustained tension, see below, n. 45. 45 On the question of the original ending of Mk, see below, Section Q. For now I assume Mk to end at 16.8. Note my view here on the subplot is similar to that of Petersen (1978a: 74, 78–79), though he would see an overall sustained suspense until the end of the narrative (no climax). In a similar vein to Petersen’s, see Tannehill (1979: 84); Hooker (1991: 392); and Moloney (2002: 16). 46 Conflicts, generally are crucial to the plot (Kingsbury 1989: 27–29; Rhoads et al. 1999: 73–97; Culpepper 2007: 19–20; Malbon 2009a: 43–54). Rhoads et al., followed by Malbon, see three principal conflicts: between Jesus and “nonhuman forces,” the authorities and the disciples. Culpepper notes, further, conflicts between Jesus and crowds, his hometown and his family, in addition to forces of nature. I would add that Jesus has conflict with various individuals: e.g. the ex-leper, the woman healed of a hemorrhage, the rich man. To me the portrayal of a spectrum of human perceptions of and responses to Jesus, all of which are ultimately inadequate, is at play (and less Jesus’ “testing,” as per Culpepper [2007: 19–20]). Note, Rhoads et al. (2012: xiii) now hold the idiosyncratic view that the climax is reached in Mk 1.10–15. 47 Cf. Mk 14.1–2, 10–11, 43–65; 15.1–15. 48 This aspect of the plot that has been taken as central by some. For Rhoads et al. (1999: 90) the central conflict of the plot “is characterized by their [the disciples’] alternating success and failure” in their struggle “to be faithful to him [Jesus].” At any rate, many claim that the two major “themes” in Mk are “christology” and “discipleship.”

70

Chapter 2: Mark

Returning to the main plot-line, I turn to the significant relation between Jesus’ “titles” and the plot’s development, a development linked inextricably to his characterisation. 49 It seems that a symbiosis exists between the two. On the one hand, the designations – three in particular, Messiah, Son of Humanity 50 and Son of God – play an important role. 51 Indeed, the work’s opening line assigns (probably just) one of these titles to Jesus. The designation of Jesus as God’s son, in particular, comes in key statements in, arguably, the three crucial moments in the narrative – the opening scene (Mk 1.11); the turning point (9.7); 52 and, as mentioned, the climax (15.39). 53 The only in49 Malbon (2009a: 3–13) offers a review, largely critical, of various approaches to Jesus’ titles and characterisation. 50 “Son of Humanity” (alternately “Son of the human”) does not completely capture the full semantic possibilities inherent in the phrase ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου. Still, I believe the translation is sufficiently accurate. The traditional translation, “Son of Man,” is not the best English equivalent for the Greek phrase. It restricts the possibilities too much. 51 Cf., e.g., Matera 1999: 6, 23, 24–26; Collins 2008a: 123–148; Collins 2008b: 149– 174; Morrison 2008: 114, 293. Alternatively, Kingsbury (1983: 55, 142) sees five major titles, with “Son of God” as the key title and “Son of Man” next in importance. Broadhead (1999: 158) deems “the title of Crucified One” preeminent among 16 titles. 52 Morrison (2008) has recently argued, convincingly, that the turning point consists of Peter’s confession and its aftermath and the transfiguration and its aftermath (8.27–9.13). In contrast to the present approach, Morrison (2008: 38–39, 40–41, 51–52, 67), relying heavily on Aristotelian concepts, sees the turning point as the climax. This is true, despite the occasional use of “interim” or “mid-point climax” (Morrison 2008:44, 55, 95, 97, 140, 224) – see n. 44 above. His argument that “the twin pericopae [of 8.27–9.1 and 9.2–13] function in a Janus-like manner” (Morrison 2008: 221) will be assessed critically in Section Q. The notion of a turning point in Mk is generally accepted, being amply attested in recent scholarship – Morrison (2008: 86–89) lists only two exceptions. He surveys six alternate turning-point hypotheses. Five are of “one single turning point,” that is “one statement (usually one verse) within a defined pericope” (Morrison 2008: 89): 8.21 (οὔπω συνίετε); 8.29 (σὺ εἶ ὁ χριστός – this is the majority opinion); 8.30 (ἐπετίμησεν αὐτοῖς ἵνα μηδενὶ λέγωσιν περὶ αὐτοῦ); 8.31 (ἤρξατο διδάσκειν αὐτοὺς ὅτι...); 9.7 (οὗτός ἐστιν ὁ υἱός μου ὁ ἀγαπητός, ἀκούετε αὐτοῦ). The sixth is of “more than one turning point”: 8.27–30 and 11.1–11. Yet, others have argued similar to Morrison, though in less detail, since the 1930s. Burch (1931: 349, n. 6; 350; 352) in a less than precise way articulates that the turning point is 8.27–9.7(–8?). Standaert (1978: 45–51; 89–96) argues elaborately for 8.27–9.13 as the Gospel’s centre, subordinating 9.2–13 to 8.27–33. Idiosyncratically, he identifies 8.34–9.1 as the very centre of Mk’s “argumentation” and “composition” (Standaert 1978: 48); cf. n. 44 above. Morrison (2008: 103, n. 104) claims that the majority view is also that of Standaert; he does not comment on Burch’s view (cf. Smith 1995: 216– 217 on Burch and Standaert). The two scholars Morrison (2008: 108–110) cites for 9.7 as the turning point – Johnson (2010: 148) and Hooker (2000: 82) – do not in fact support the idea. Rather, as his analysis itself demonstrates, they see a longer section in the middle functioning as a turning point. Elsewhere Morrison (2008: 109, 111, 113–114) recognises

State of the Question

71

stances of a voice from heaven are two of these three pronouncements. Yet, on the other hand, neither this nor the other designations are defined explicitly by the narrator at any point. 54 Rather, through the portrayal of Jesus’ own words and actions, especially his interactions with other characters, the designations are given meaning. 55 “Son of God,” having a basic royal messianic sense (cf. Ps 2.7; 2 Sam 7.14), 56 is given twists of meaning by the narrator. The primary twist is the concept of suffering, which finds its full expression at the crucifixion. 57 The idea that the narrator gives the designation a twist in the direction of grandeur (or higher “Christology,” though I prefer to avoid the anachronism inherent in the use of the term) is not foreign to Markan scholarship. Often, however, such a reading employs the proposed Hellenistic construct of a θεῖος ἀνήρ, 58 whose legitimacy in the first century has been rightly challenged. 59 “Son of God” as a royal messianic designation, also, can be understood as imbued with power or grandeur. 60 Yet, it is earlier scholarship, foas much for Hooker, but not Johnson. Others, too, see Peter’s confession and the transfiguration, together, offering (an) important revelation(s) of Jesus mid-way through the narrative, even if the term “turning point” is not used. 53 On the episodes’ interrelation see, coming from different angles, Vielhauer (1964: 161–169), Tannehill (1979: 61–62, 74–75, 88) and Myers (1988: 390–392). Other than unclean spirits (Mk 3.11; 5.7) and Jesus himself (14.[61–]62; cf. 12.6 and 13.32) only the centurion and God, twice, identify Jesus as God’s son. 54 On this point see, especially, Malbon (2009: 1–6). 55 Tannehill (1979: 61–62) inaugurated this approach; cf. also Kingsbury (1983: ix); Hooker (1991: 20); Broadhead (1999: 165–166); Matera (1999: 6); Culpepper (2007: 564); Malbon (2009a: 1–3). 56 For a review of the work of some who support this position, see Naluparayil (2000a: 203–205); cf. Johannson (2011: 371–375). Note Culpepper (2007: 19) puts emphasis on the resonances of the title in light of “divine epithets of the Roman emperors.” While acknowledging their importance, I would place emphasis on Markan interpretive moves in light of the Jewish Scriptures. 57 Naluparayil (2000a: 208) notes many scholars’ “tendency to combine the ‘suffering dimension’ with the concept of ‘Sonship.” Some do so while holding to a royal messianic conception of “Son of God,” including: Steichele (1980: 272–273); Kingsbury (1983: 99– 100); Juel (1992: 452–453, 455–456); Marcus (1992: 58, 67); Matera (1999:18–19); Culpepper (2007: 49–50, 563–564); and Collins (2008a: 130, 131, 133–134 [131]), who sees a “combination of the prophetic motifs of suffering, rejection, and even death with the royal messianic role” – a “very unusual” combination in contemporary thought. 58 On Rudolf Bultmann and later proponents of the concept, more recently Heikki Räisänen, Johannes Schreiber and William Telford, see Broadhead (1992: 15–20), Naluparayil (2000a: 197–200), Johansson (2011: 367–369, 382–383). 59 See Chapter One. 60 Cf. Marcus 1992: 87, 91–92. Other models, of course, have been advanced for understanding the portrayal of Jesus’ grandeur. But the link with “Son of God” is not always central. Among those who do make the link with the title, worthy of note are, earlier,

72

Chapter 2: Mark

cused on a less Jewish and more Hellenistic context for “Son of God,” which draws attention to the divide between: the prominence of miracles in the first half of Mark; and the focus on Jesus’ suffering in the second. 61 Jesus’ miracles, especially rescue nature miracles (which some label epiphanies), are taken as indicative of his power/grandeur. 62 The transfiguration gets special attention by some in this context. 63 To anticipate a conclusion to be made in the investigation to follow, it seems that the heavenly pronouncement of Jesus as the “Son of God,” a royal messianic designation, in the transfiguration, an episode that serves as the culmination of the mighty deeds and epiphanies of Jesus in the first half of the narrative, 64 acts a mid-way peak of the plot, the revelation of the Son of God. The twist the designation receives here is one of grandeur. 65 Interestingly, the implicit comparison is between Jesus and the greatest miracle-working prophets of the Scriptures. (Discussion of the parallelism in the relevant miracle stories, including detailed analysis for one story, and the implications can be found in Chapter Seven. There, too, I explore in greater detail the type William Wrede and Martin Dibelius and, more recently, Cilliers Breytenbach and Ludger Schenke – cf. Broadhead (1992: 13–14); Naluparayil (2000a: 202–203); Johansson (2011: 366–367, 376–377, 385–387). 61 Cf. Broadhead 1992: 13–21; Naluparayil 2000a: 194–200. Hypotheses of a “corrective Christology” correctly understood that the emphasis in Mk is on Jesus’ suffering, death and resurrection. The mistake, however, was to pit Jesus’ miracles against this. 62 In addition to the earlier scholars, just mentioned, and more recent proponents of the θεῖος ἀνήρ concept (cf. n. 58), Frenschkowski (1995: 2:212; emphasis original) argues the miracles, especially the nature miracles, “offenbaren das verborgene wahre Wesen des irdischen Jesus [reveal the hidden true being of the earthly Jesus].” On the nature miracles see also, e.g., Schenke (2000: 58–59) and Gathercole (2006: 61–64, 64), preferring “theophany” to “epiphany”; cf. Dormeyer’s (2013: 194). 63 For Hahn (1963: 312) Jesus shows in the transfiguration “was sein wahres Wesen ist” (what his true being is); cf. Schenke (2000: 62; cf. also n. 73 and references, notably to Dibelius). Note even Collins (2008a: 123, 132), for whom “messiah” and “son of God” have a royal messianic connotation, with comparable importance in Mk, allows that “certain features of the transfiguration suggest that it is the self-manifestation of a deity... [f]rom the point of view of traditional Greek religion,” while still proposing that “earliest audiences” may have seen the story “as a preview of the resurrection of Jesus.” 64 Here I depart from, among others, Culpepper (2007: 49; cf. 19): “...that Jesus’ uniqueness lay in his power... is not Marks’ view....” An alternate view is stated succinctly by Ellenburg (1995: 177): “More than in any other gospel the identity of Jesus in Mark is revealed through his miraculous deeds” – and, some would add, his transfiguration. 65 Culpepper (2007: 298), as many others, claims the voice from heaven in Mk 9.7 “serves [only] to underline” Jesus’ prediction “that he would suffer and die” and, related, “his teachings on discipleship.” I see that it is doing this and more. Many scholars, Culpepper (2007: 295) included, see in Jesus’ transfiguration a proleptic revelation of Jesus’ post-resurrection glory. Again, it seems that more is at work. See below, Section Q.

State of the Question

73

of grandeur being attributed to the protagonist.) A subplot-line is thoroughly explored, as the responses of various human characters, including, especially, the disciples, sketch out a plethora of appreciations of Jesus’ identity, all of which, ultimately, fail to grasp his grandeur, some disastrously so. Thus, the main plot line, which serves to give further meaning to the key designation Son of God, has two main developments: one at an earlier peak, in the turning-point, (grandeur/power) and the other at the climax (suffering). Again to speak proleptically, as with the centurion’s confession at the climax, the narrator anticipates that only the audience will truly grasp what is revealed at the earlier peak, though three of Jesus’ closest disciples hear the divine pronouncement. The incident is linked (9.9) to the future of the story world, in which the three will, presumably, come to understand not only what the Son of Humanity’s rising from the dead means but also Jesus’ identity, as both the crucified and, earlier, transfigured Son of God, thus resolving of the secondary plot-line. Focalisation. 66 Though a number of scholars have looked at aspects of focalisation (or “point of view”) in Mark, to my knowledge only Joanna Dewey has offered a comprehensive analysis of Mark with regard to external/internal focalisation. 67 Dewey (1982: 101–102) finds Twelve instances in which the 66 Cf. Rimmon-Kenan (2002: 72–86), who gives a convincing argument for preferring the term over others, notably, “point of view.” Chatman’s discussion of this topic (1978: 151–161) is inferior. Focalisation can be understood in relation to narration. The difference is roughly between, respectively, “seeing” and “speaking” (Rimmon-Kenan 2002: 73). She notes, though, that focalisation has in fact three facets: perceptual, psychological and ideological. 67 Dewey (1982: 101–102), employs the theoretical framework of Gérard Genette, which envisions three sub-divisions of focalisation. Yet, her identification of only “nonfocalized” and “focalized” in Mk, accords easily with Rimmon-Kennan’s (2002) “external” and “internal” categories, respectively. Rimmon-Kennan (2002: 75) states, “External focalization is felt to be close to the narrating agent, and its vehicle is therefore called ‘narrator-focalizer.’” Her definition of “internal focalization” is less than adequate, as she resorts to examples rather than explicit specification, other than stating that “the locus of internal focalization is inside the represented events” (Rimmon-Kenan 2002: 76). She does not make explicit the difference between a narrator-focaliser giving particular attention to one character as an object and a character-focaliser. (Genette’s two sub-divisions which pertain to Rimmon-Kenan’s internal focalisation are “Narrator = Character (narrator says only what a given character knows)” and “Narrator < Character (narrator says less than the character knows)” [Genette 1980: 189, emphasis original].) A helpful, recent survey of the use of “point of view” in “biblical narrative” addresses three studies that touch on this aspect of the Markan narrative (Yamasaki 2007: 68–76, 82–84): Petersen (1978b), Rhoads and Michie (1982) and Dewey (1982). To these could have been added Fowler (1991: 66– 73) and Naruparayil (2000b: 431–517). Since the publication of Yamasaki’s book, Malbon (2009a) has addressed “point of view” in Mk. Yamasaki relies heavily on the theory of Boris Uspensky. I find Rimmon-Kenan’s three “facets” of focalisation – perceptual, psy-

74

Chapter 2: Mark

narrative is focalised through a character [i.e. not through the narrator] – Jesus (6 times); the disciples (twice); and once each for “the women at the empty tomb,” “the woman with a flow of blood,” “the Gerasene demoniac” and “the soldiers.” 68 Dewey’s work, with some modification, has important implications for the present analysis. First, some hesitation is advisable for seeing focalisation through a character when only the perceptual facet (space and time) is potentially present. One of the other two facets – the ideological or, especially, the psychological (including cognitive and emotive components) – should also be present. The hesitation stems from the fact that for the narrator-focaliser in texts in the Hebrew Bible (and/or LXX), to which the Gospels are akin, the focalised object (one or more characters) is often viewed from without, with only occasional mention of thoughts or emotions. 69 Yet the narrator-focaliser often limits the perception of the focalised in spatial terms. 70 Half of the instances identified by Dewey do not meet this criterion. 71 A negative assessment is the result, also, for Robert Fowler’s (1991: 69) view that the two feeding stories have “manipulation of perceptual point of view.” 72 chological and ideological – superior to the five “planes” of Uspensky’s “point of view,” though much there is in common. What is of primary importance to Yamasaki (2007: 95), i.e. “the narrator leading the audience to see the events of the story line as filtered through the consciousness of one of the characters, or simply through the consciousness of the narrator,” is also the concern here. “Point-of-view character” in Yamasaki’s terms is here a “character-focaliser.” 68 Dewey does not offer an explanation, other than in the case of the transfiguration, for how she arrives at her conclusions. Cf. also the criticism of Yamasaki (2007: 83–84). 69 Rimmon-Kennan (2002: 77) notes that “in many Biblical narratives” a narratorfocaliser perceives “only the outward manifestations of the object (person or thing),” citing Gen 22.3 as an example. The biblical narrator-focaliser occasionally gives a perception of a focalised object from within. But the occasional instance is not enough to establish the character as focaliser; similarly see Yamasaki (2007: 194). 70 Note the position adopted here differs substantially from that of Yamasaki (2007: 184, 190), who sees Jesus as the “point-of-view character” (character-focaliser) for the majority of a gospel (Mt and Lk; by analogy Mk). His justification is problematic: “...Jesus is the only character in the narrative whose inner life is laid bare to the audience on a consistent basis” (Yamasaki 2007: 184). In no gospel is his inner life laid bare consistently, but only sporadically. Also, for a given episode, his inner life being laid bare like this does not establish him as the character-focaliser. Internal focalisation requires – using Genette’s (1980: 189) terms to clarify Rimmon-Kennan’s classification – that “the narrator says only what a given character knows.” On this point Dewey’s approach is superior. 71 Jesus’ thoughts and emotions are not penetrated in Mk 1.9–11, 16–20; 11.15–17; 12.41–44 [and possibly not in 11.12–14]. Nor are the unclean spirit’s or the demonpossessed man in 5.2–13; nor the soldiers’ in 15.16-24. 72 Fowler uses the theory of Seymour Chatman. No penetration into the disciples’ thoughts and emotions occurs in Mk 6.35–39. Similarly, 8.1–3 contains only Jesus’ speech,

State of the Question

75

Second, it must be determined what amount of text is sufficient for establishing the use of internal focalisation. 73 The criterion is difficult to pin down, though surely an episode having one or more character-focalisers, basically throughout, satisfies it. Notably, the two episodes with fixed characterfocalisation (Mk 4.35–41; 16.1–8) 74 and one with variable focalisation (i.e. alternates between two narrative agents; 9.2–8), having or developing character-focalisation over a large portion of text (cf. 9.4–8), are: stories of private miracles, other than healings; have responses, including the emotion of fear; and are focalised through followers. 75 In the analysis to follow I will examine in detail the said instances of focalisation. One other story, not mentioned by Dewey, possibly has internal focalisation, though the focalisation is variable (6.47–52; focalised partly through Jesus [6.45–48] and partly through the narrator [6.49–52; or, alternatively, through the Twelve]). 76 It too is a story of a private, non-healing miracle for followers with a response like fear (being troubled). Another notable instance of variable focalisation is a healing miracle story: 5.25–34, focalised through the hemorrhaging woman (5.25–29), then, probably, Jesus, (5.30–32) and, finally, the narrator (5.33– 34; alternatively, 5.30–34). Only one episode that is not a miracle story, I suggest, is a candidate for internal focalisation. 77 The proposed distinction between types of miracles, mentioned a number of times in the foregoing, is cause for return to Taylor’s discussion of levels of narration. The mythic is found in Mark, not surprisingly, only among the stories concerned with what, I suggest tentatively at this point, might be not his thoughts or emotions. Still, Fowler is right to draw attention to the contrast between those who present the problem in the two feeding stories. 73 Similarly, see Yamasaki (2007: 194). 74 My use of “fixed” here differs from that of Rimmon-Kenan (2002: 78), for whom it means focalisation that is “fixed throughout the narrative.” Mk overall has multiple focalisation. But a worthwhile distinction can be made between individual episodes with either “fixed” or “variable” (two narrative agents) focalisation. 75 Dewey (1982: 101–102) gives Mk 4.36–41; 9.2–8 and 16.1–5 as the instances of focalisation. 76 Similarly, see Fowler (1991: 67–69). The principal stories, in addition to the miraculous feeding stories, in which Fowler (1991: 67–69) sees “manipulation of perceptual point of view” are three of the four I have identified in the foregoing (Mk 4.35–41; 5.24–35; 6.47–52). Fowler also suggests, it seems, that “the perceptual point of view of the Twelve” characterises the beginning of 8.27–9.1, but 8.27–30 is dialogue between Jesus and the disciples, in which neither inner penetration nor amount of attention establishes the latter as focalisers. 77 It is Mk 14.33–42. If here Jesus is the focaliser, by 14.40 the narrator has resumed as focaliser, as he is already describing the internal workings of other characters. It is possible, but unlikely it seems to me, Jesus is the focaliser in 11.12–14, as Dewey (1982) suggests. The short scene has only one possible reference to Jesus’ thoughts or intentions.

76

Chapter 2: Mark

called epiphanies of (or, in the case of Mk 16, connected to) Jesus. In all cases, as mentioned previously, the setting is of a private nature, Jesus’ followers are the respondents, and fear / being troubled is a characteristic if not a dominant aspect of their response. Focalisation through the followers is common (in three, perhaps all instances) and occurs only in these stories. Three of four of these episodes, too, have fascinating parallels with stories from the Jewish Scriptures and its interpretative traditions (see Chapter Seven). The healings and exorcisms, on the other hand, occur almost always in public settings (or go from private to public settings). The disciples are not respondents here, but various minor characters and crowds. The characteristic emotion, when present, is amazement. Thus, it seems that the setting, characters, type of miracle and kind of response share a general correlation. This will be substantiated in detail in what follows. For now, however, it is important to note also the easy correlation, even snug fit, of these observations with the levels of narration identified by Taylor. Penultimately, I turn briefly to form- and redaction-critics’ analyses of responses to miracles. I summarise those points made by the form critics, discussed already in Chapter One, that are relevant to a literary reading of Mark in its entirety. Dibelius (1971 [1959]) and Bultmann (1995 [1931]) agree that a frequently occurring motif in Markan stories of Jesus’ mighty deeds is the positive response of the crowd. The motif is virtually reduced to either emotion (Bultmann’s Eindruck) or speech (Dibelius’ Chor-Schluß). Alternatively Theissen sees four motifs that occur in the final of four fields (Schluss) in a given miracle story, which can be of an epiphany or a mighty deed. The emotional motif (Admiration) is aligned with the verbal one (Akklamation). Both are positive and lie in contrast to a negative third, less common motif (Ablehnende Reaktion). The fourth (Ausbreitung des Rufes) pertains to the spreading of news about the miracle. Theissen, aware that other characters, beyond the crowds, respond in the stories, give little attention to who is responding. As for the emotion in responses, all scholars understand the semantic domains of words pertaining to amazement and fear as occupying the same, essentially undifferentiated field of meaning, though for epiphany stories Theissen indicates that fear is distinctively described. While Dibelius and Bultmann do they see the emotions as having different functions in the stories, Theissen does, a point that comes out in his redaction-critical understanding of Mark, which I will address in a moment. For all three scholars, responses are taken to be very important in Markan miracle stories. It should be noted again that the goals of form critics do not include understanding the literary function of the stories in the overarching and developing narrative of a given gospel. As Robert Alter (1981: 47–48) has noted in a related context, form criticism is more interested in the convention itself. Three redaction-critical studies of Mark stand out for consideration in the present context. I begin with Kenzo Tagawa (1966: 88–122) and Timothy

State of the Question

77

Dwyer (1996), 78 both of whom give primary attention to the emotional element, taking amazement and fear as essentially the same motif. 79 For Tagawa (1966: 121) the Markan redactor applies “un motif hellénistique caractérisant l’épiphanie d’un être divin,” already present in his source material as “la formule finale habituelle des récits de miracles,” to “tous les aspects de l’activité de Jésus... et même son existence.” 80 The faith that is, thus, communicated Tagawa (1966: 121) labels “l’expérience directe de la rencontre avec le Jésus vivant.” 81 For Dwyer (1996: 197, 198, 201), “wonder” in Mark, whether accompanied by “a positive or negative connotation,” is “necessary and essential”: it is “the proof of divine activity,” namely, of “the breaking-in of the kingdom of God in the person and work of Jesus of Nazareth.” The redactor’s use parallels the motif’s propagandistic employment in “early Jewish literature,” demonstrating “that the God of Israel is the true God by the way God does things to astound people” (Dwyer 1996: 67). Both scholars offer some keen observations as to how the said emotions, found in different contexts, not just miracle stories, create links between various episodes. 82 Many of these will be taken up in Section Q, below. Yet, as is common in redaction-critical studies, the notion of a monolithic “theme” takes preeminence for both, 83 not, for example, the development of a plot. It would prove 78 Though Dwyer aims at both redaction- and narrative-critical analyses, the former interest overshadows the latter. 79 Tagawa (1966: 91, 93–94, 96) also discusses “acclamation.” He seems to intuit the significance of the visual element of responses, referencing the sight of those present in his own retellings of responses, though such are not in the text: “...ayant vu l’exorcisme...”; “En voyant la guérison miraculeuse...” (Tagawa 1966: 89 92, referring to Mk 1.27 and Mt 12.23 || Lk 11.14). On a piecemeal basis, Dwyer (1996: 96, 100, 148), too, notes other elements of responses – “Chorschluss” and “notice of spreading of the news” – and some instances in which “verbs of seeing are used with amazement.” See also Magness (1986: 94), who has “fear” (i.e. “amazement or fear or astonishment”) and “proclamation” (i.e. “the full rehearsal of the miracle or a confession of faith... or a statement of joy”) as the two features in miracle stories which constitute responses. He pays some attention to “sight” in this context (Magness 1986: 102). 80 “a Hellenistic motif characterising the epiphany of a divine being,” “the usual final formula of stories of miracles,” “all the aspects of the activity of Jesus... and even his existence.” 81 “the direct experience of the encounter with the living Jesus.” 82 Note Dwyer (1996: 20), categorises the motif’s presumed 32 instances as: “miracles or exorcism” (8), “teaching or passion predictions” (8), “empty tomb narrative” (3), “fear of various leaders” (5), “difficult to categorize” (8). 83 Thus, Dwyer (1996: 93) sees the pericope of Mk 1.21–28 as having “paradigmatic force” – it “ought to be viewed paradigmatically and programatically”; cf. also Tagawa (1966: 88). Though Dwyer (1996: 98) allows that “only as one follows the progress of the motif [of wonder] throughout the gospel will one be able to make a more complete determination” as to whether it indicates in 1.27 “the first step towards either faith or stum-

78

Chapter 2: Mark

beneficial to pay closer attention to the potential creative exploitation of conventions by the narrator in various contexts for different purposes. 84 Also, one might anticipate, the mere presence of fear or amazement is insufficient to justify including it as part of a convention. I summarise Theissen’s (1974) insights, which I have discussed in more detail in Chapter One, above. Responses in Mark vary in terms of quality and all, in fact, are inadequate, whether on account of a question (4.41) or another element in the response, such as a description of incomprehension (6.52). Alternatively, other features within the story at hand (e.g. the demons’ superior statements about Jesus) or elsewhere (notably, the heavenly voice at Jesus’ baptism). In other ways, too, responses are tied into the unfolding narrative. The question asked about Jesus’ identity in 4.41, for example, is revisited in further episodes, both in responses to miracles and elsewhere, where characters specify who they think Jesus is. In fact, responses are a crucial aspect of what one might call the unfolding plot. The recurring, inadequate responses have a cumulative effect, increasing tension as the expectations of those reading (or hearing) the gospel are frustrated. When will a character final appreciate who Jesus is? Three moments in the gospel are key. In the baptism God announces that Jesus is his son. After numerous inadequate appraisals of Jesus by humans, a mid-way point is reached in both Peter’s confession and the transfiguration. Peter’s confession, though promising, ultimately falls short, as he fails to address Jesus’ imminent suffering. To compensate, God again speaks from heaven, at the transfiguration, identifying Jesus as his son. The only human to make an adequate statement about Jesus, though, is the lone Roman centurion, Jesus’ executioner, whose quasiresponse to Jesus’ death constitutes the Gospel’s climax. Jesus’ dignity (Würde), seen in his miracles, is only finally revealed in his suffering and death. So many of these points will be adopted in the analysis to follow. As noted, Theissen’s redaction-critical analysis of Mark is in so many ways a precursor of narrative criticism of the Gospel. On the other hand, Theissen’s simplistic approach to characters and the tendency towards reducing responses to speech, accompanied by emotion, must mitigated. bling,” he identifies not so much progress as alternation between the two basic options (positive or negative wonder) from its next appearance in 2.12 until the book’s end. (Still, he sees 16.1–8 as “[t]he climax of the gospel” [Dwyer 1996: 195].) A similar criticism is offered by Thompson (1997: 576), who would see Mk as more a narrative and less “a theological statement.” 84 E.g. Dwyer (1996) makes a categorical correlation between “wonder,” the numinous and “the breaking-in of the kingdom.” While this seems true in some cases, he over generalises. It is questionable whether amazement in response to teaching should be seen in light of the numinous. Other problematic instances include Mk 5.33 (see discussion below); 14.33; 15.5, 44. Similarly, see, Black (1999: 755).

Miracle Stories with Responses

79

While this chapter is focused on literary and linguistic analysis, assuming in large part coherence in the discourse of Mark, caution in the approach is necessary. Room must be allowed for the possibility of elements not sitting completely comfortably within the narrative. In the first place, such inconsistencies are a natural part of human communication, generally. Here, of course, we have the added complication of a narrative comprised largely of reworked traditional material. 85 Finally, a word on linguistics, particularly discourse analysis, is in order. An enormous amount of work and what can properly be labeled progress has been made in this field with respect to New Testament narrative texts. Rather than summarise these advances here – to my knowledge no real summary has been offered on the topic to date 86 – I will engage the relevant scholarship in some detail below (from Section F on). Suffice it to say now discourse analysis helps greatly to identify or clarify: for example, the boundaries of episodes and other portions of text; switches from background to foreground material; the relative prominence of sentences; “development” (defined below); and the peak of an episode or climax of the overall plot.

B. Miracle Stories with Responses Mark has 21 miracle stories. 87 Four additional stories contain summaries of miracles. 88 Fourteen miracle stories have responses. They are: (1) exorcism 85 See Moore (1989), already shortly after narrative criticism’s inception, on “the ghost of fragmentation past.” 86 Porter (2011: 116–117) missed the opportunity to do a much-needed service to the guild of gospel scholarship by offering a broad survey of recent contributions of discourse analysis. Within three pages he refers to nine publications he has (co-)authored and only four works of others. 87 See Chapter One for definitions of “miracle” and “miracle story.” The 18 miracle stories counted by Dormeyer (2013: 193) are essentially the same as those discussed here, though the proposed boundaries of the stories may differ, with the addition of three stories of epiphanies (Mk 1.9–11; 9.2–8; 16.1–8[+?]). Broadhead (1992: 194), who counts 21 miracle stories, includes the transfiguration but not the epiphany stories of 1.9–11 and 16.1–8(+?). He incorrectly cites three stories with summaries of miracles (“1.32–39”; “3.7–13a”; “6.53–56”) as miracle stories proper. (See, similarly, the criticism of Collins [1994: 150–151].) Broadhead takes the miracle complex in 5.21–43 as one story. This view has merit, but does not enable the kind of analysis engaged here. 88 Mk 1.32–34; 3.7–12; 6.1–6a; 6.6b–13 (containing a summary of the disciples’ miracles). The summary of Jesus’ performance of miracles constitutes the peak once (1.34a–b), perhaps twice (6.6a; alternatively 6.4 is the peak). The summary of 3.10–12 (γάρ) and of 6.13 (3 imperfects) are demoted material in the respective stories. See Section F and following, on the terminology used here. A summary of miracles that seems to occur more

80

Chapter 2: Mark

in the synagogue of Capernaum (Mk 1.21–28); (2) healing of the leper (1.39– 45); (3) healing of the paralytic (2.1–12); (4) healing of the man with a withered hand (3.1–6); (5) stilling of the storm (4.35–41); (6) exorcism of Legion (5.1–20); (7) healing of the hemorrhaging woman (5.24b–34); 89 (8) healing of Jairus’ daughter (5.21–24a, 35–43); (9) walking on the water (6.47–52); (10) healing of the deaf and mute man (7.31–37); (11) transfiguration (9.2–8); (12) healing of Bartimaeus (10.46–52); (13) withering of the fig tree (11.12– 14, 20–25); (14) epiphany 90 of the young man (16.1–8[+?]). 91 It is probable that the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law (1.29–31) contains a response (1.31c). Yet on account of doubt I will refer to it only parenthetically, where relevant, in what follows. 92 The remaining five miracle stories have nothing resembling a response. 93 One story with a summary of miracles has an inversion of the response motif: namely, Jesus’ amazement at the limited faith of those in his hometown, enabling so few miracles (6.6a). 94

C. Number of Responses within a Miracle Story A “response” in a “miracle story” is defined formally or semi-formally (see Chapter One, above). Similar literary features, not meeting the definition’s criteria, I call “reactions.” (These include Jesus’ amazement at a lack of faith, noted above, also characters’ reactions to teaching or even to summaries of miracles.) The key feature of the definition of “response” is contiguity of sentences and/or phrases. A given response may include the actions of different characters (individuals or groups), provided that they are presented in the same sentence or contiguous sentences (phrase or contiguous phrases). 95 outside of a specific story (or extend beyond it) is 6.53–56 (especially v. 56, in which the healings are related). A summary of miracles in 1.39 occurs within the story of the leper’s healing. Dormeyer (2013: 195) offers an alternative view on (6) Markan “Sammelberichten.” 89 The story is embedded in the story of the healing of Jairus’ daughter. 90 The justification for labelling this episode an epiphany is discussed in Section Q. 91 The stories’ proposed boundaries, including Mk 16.8, will be discussed as deemed necessary in Section Q, below. 92 See below, n. 156, for discussion. 93 I.e. theophany at Jesus’ baptism (Mk 1.9–11); feeding of the 5000 (6.35–46); exorcism of the Syrophoenician’s daughter (7.24b–30); feeding of the 4000 (8.1–9); healing of the blind man of Bethsaida (8.22–26); exorcism of the demon-possessed boy (9.14–29). 94 On instances of amazement in reactions to Jesus’ healings, generally, and teachings, see n. 122. Some healing(/teaching) summaries do not have any response-like feature (e.g. 1.34, 39; 3.10–12; 6.5, 12–13, 56). 95 E.g., Mk 7.36b–37, formally one response, includes the actions of the formerly deafmute man and the crowd.

Number of Responses within a Miracle Story

81

Still, some clause or clauses in a sentence may not be included as a part of the respective response, if the actions they describe precede perception of the miracle 96 or describe the occurrence of the miracle or confirmation of it 97 in a way that is not best understood as a response. Four stories contain two responses (Mk 5.14–17 and 5.20; 6.49–50b and 6.51c–52; 9.5–6 and 9.8; 16.5b–c and 16.8). 98 So 18 phenomena are here considered: Mark 1.27–28; 1.45; 2.12c; 3.6; 4.41; 5.14–17; 5.20; 5.33; 5.42d; 6.49–50b; 6.51c–52; 7.36b–37; 9.5–6; 9.8; 10.52c; 11.20b–21; 16.5b–c; 16.8. The majority (3:4) of stories with multiple responses are of epiphany and/or a rescue nature miracle. 99 Two stories (6.47–52; 9.2–8) contain more than one miracle. Note: the subdivision of verses (into “a,” “b,” etc.) typically corresponds to the presence of main clauses (finite verbs introduced with connectives that do not subordinate). I make explicit in this and subsequent chapters all exceptions, i.e. when a subdivision represents a dependent clause. Designations of three responses in Mark are exceptional: 2.12c; 11.20b–21; 16.5b– c. 100 Subdivisions within the response of 1.45 are also exceptional. 101

96 E.g., in Mk 16.5 the initial clause, describing the women’s entrance into the tomb, is not included in the response. 97 E.g., the pre-nuclear participle and the main clause in Mk 2.12 are best understood as a confirmation of the occurrence of the healing and, therefore, not as part of the response. The response is merely the ὥστε clause. 98 For the justification of understanding Mk 9.8 as a response, though it contains only visual sensation, see the discussion in Section Q. 99 One exorcism story has two responses. Note all epiphany stories with responses have two. And one of the two rescue nature miracle stories has multiple responses. 100 Mk 2.12c refers to the (post-nuclear) result clause: ὥστε ἐξίστασθαι πάντας καὶ δοξάζειν τὸν θεὸν λέγοντας ὅτι οὕτως οὐδέποτε εἴδομεν. 11.20a is a pre-nuclear participial clause (καὶ παραπορευόμενοι πρωΐ), as is 16.5a (καὶ εἰσελθοῦσαι εἰς τὸ μνημεῖον). Conversely, 2.12a–b, 11.20b and 16.5b refer to the remainder of the respective sentences. 101 Mk 1.45a: ὁ δὲ ἐξελθὼν ἤρξατο κηρύσσειν πολλὰ καὶ διαφημίζειν τὸν λόγον; 1.45b: ὥστε μηκέτι αὐτὸν δύνασθαι φανερῶς εἰς πόλιν εἰσελθεῖν, ἀλλ᾿ ἔξω ἐπ᾿ ἐρήμοις τόποις ἦν; 1.45c: καὶ ἤρχοντο πρὸς αὐτὸν πάντοθεν. Syntactic complexity arises from the coordination of two unequal clauses through the use of ἀλλά. Though the clause ἀλλ᾿ ἔξω ἐπ᾿ ἐρήμοις τόποις ἦν may, technically, be taken as an independent clause, it is best understood as a continuation of the result (ὥστε) clause (on the usage of ἀλλά to correct or replace, e.g. μηκέτι... ἀλλά, see Runge [2010: 92–100]). This approach has further justification in the present study, owing to the fact that 1.45b (as defined above) describes how the response to the miracle affects Jesus (who is never a respondent in a miracle story in Mk). The description is sandwiched between the actions of the recipient (1.45a) and the hearers (1.45c) in the response. The latter is itself unique, comprised of a sole, uncharacteristic element, “coming” to Jesus. (See sections 2.5 and 2.9 on these final two points).

82

Chapter 2: Mark

D. Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers In order to identify and analyse what the narrator does, in Alter’s words, “in each individual application of the schema to give it a sudden tilt of innovation or even to refashion it radically” one must first determine what the conventions are. To this I now turn. An “element” in a response is identified, primarily, as a clause. The relevant verb, therefore, constitutes the essence of the element. Yet two verbs may be considered together as one element in the case of a redundant quotative frame, for example, συνζητεῖν... λέγοντας... (Mk 1.27) and ἀποκριθεὶς... λέγει (9.5). 102 Given auxiliary verbs, the related infinitives define the element and constitute the instances of it, for example, ἤρξατο κηρύσσειν... καὶ διαφημίζειν (1.45a). Occasionally, as in the case of a verb like εἶναι, γενέσθαι, ἐξελθεῖν or even δοῦναι, a noun (ἐξῆλθεν ἡ ἀκοὴ αὐτοῦ: 1.28; συμβούλιον ἐδίδουν: 3.6), adjective (ἔκφοβοι... ἐγένοντο: 9.6b) or participle (ἦν... πεπωρωμένη: 6.52b) may be as or more indicative of the type of element. Similarly, on occasion nouns associated with the same verb may be identified as separate (elements or) instances of a given element (εἶχεν... αὐτὰς τρόμος καὶ ἔκστασις: 16.8b). For the most part events and descriptions of states and the like are in view. In light of other responses, something contained in speech (e.g. οὕτως οὐδέποτε εἴδομεν: 2.12c) or a substantive (οἱ ἰδόντες: 5.16) may infrequently also be deemed an element, distinct from the verbal act itself. The rationale for the outlined approach will be seen more clearly in the analysis, below. I group the elements primarily on the basis of lexical semantics. Thus, for example, all verbs that at a lexical level pertain primarily to visual sensation are placed in one category. As will be seen, in a few instances the semantic sense of a word that is derived from other features in the phrase or larger discourse context can be equal to or possibly greater than the basic lexical meaning. Continuing with the example of visual sensation, it will become apparent that in some cases knowing or realising can be a more salient sense than seeing for certain lexemes (e.g. Lk 8.47; 24.31a – see Chapter Three). Nevertheless, the categorisation scheme based on lexical semantics commends itself, on account of the sheer frequency of certain related verbs, in-

102 Redundant quotative frames (i.e. for direct speech) are discussed below. For adjacent verbs pertaining to sight (Mk 9.8), movement (16.8a) or even reporting (1.45a), each verb is counted as an instance of the element. It is often the case, as in the citation from 1.27, that the spelling found in B and other manuscripts (συνζητεῖν) is followed.

Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers

83

cluding specific, recurrent lexemes (and their cognates). 103 Another advantage of this approach is that it allows the analysis to identify commonalities of a more formal nature (identical and related lexemes), at the same time that variations in the use of these more formal elements can be discerned. Thus, for example, I do not categorise elements in terms of their positive or negative portrayal – an aspect of meaning that is typically derived from factors beyond the lexeme in question, such as the main verb of a phrase. Rather two instances of reporting of miracles – one more positively portrayed, in obedience to a command from Jesus (e.g. Mk 1.45a), and one more negatively, in defiance (5.20a) – are grouped together. Thus, the analysis allows for seeing how a common element is employed for different purposes in various stories. In the examples just cited, incidentally, not only the same lexemes are used, but also an identical inflection and word order (καὶ ἤρξατο κηρύσσειν). One partial exception to the proposed categorisation program is my grouping together of the few instances which I determine to be decidedly antagonistic acts, though a number of these are still linked in a more specific semantic sense, involving an explicit intent to destroy or kill. In Mark there is only one such occurrence (conspiring to destroy Jesus). 104 Another partial exception is the category of reporting, in which I include not only verbs whose lexical semantic range refers to this act specifically, but also some instances of lexemes denoting generic speech, when other contextual features warrant their inclusion. A given “element” is not to be understood as a hermetically sealed category. Rather the categories are heuristic tools. This observation means that a given lexeme may entail a secondary sense that belongs in another category. This is perhaps especially true of words denoting “emotion.” The English term is problematic for talking about texts written in Hellenistic Greek – a topic I addressed in Chapter One. I restate here that I use “emotion” in a way that does not concur with its historical origins and common, present-day usage. Fundamentally, in my usage of this and related terms I assume there to be no dichotomy between “emotion” and “thought.” To the contrary, an “emotion” may be intricately connected to thought and vice versa. Thus, for example, in a response of amazement in a miracle story the pertinent term may, in addition to denoting the said emotion, refer secondarily to related cognitive activity (or lack of understanding – cf. e.g. Mk 6.51c–52b). Nevertheless, the categories, taken as heuristic tools, typically do justice to the data 103 Chief among the recurrent lexemes in Mk is ἰδεῖν. Also relevant here are, e.g., εἰπεῖν, φοβηθῆναι (and cognates) and ἐκστῆναι (and cognates). 104 A few such instances occur elsewhere, just once in each of the other synoptic gospels and four times in Jn. Mt: conspiring to destroy (12.14). Lk: testing (11.16). Jn: seeking or plotting to kill (5.18; 11.53); harassing/persecuting (5.16); driving out (9.34b). In this way I follow, more or less, the approach of Gerd Theissen (Ablehnende Reaktion).

84

Chapter 2: Mark

being analysed. In most cases, for a given instance of a lexeme, the respective category makes a good fit. I now analyse the response elements, beginning with emotion. It is the most common element – 16 instances present in 13 of 18 responses (10 of 14 stories). 105 They cover the semantic categories of: fear (8 instances); being emotionally distressed or troubled (1); and amazement (7). 106 Fear is signified often by a verb, adjective and/or noun from the same root: φοβ*: φοβηθῆναι (Mk 4.41a [ἐφοβήθησαν φόβον μέγαν]; 5.15c; 5.33a; 16.8d) and ἔκφοβος (9.6b), indicated the more intense form of the emotion. In two instances, the relevant word also denotes physical trembling: τρέμειν (5.33a) and τρόμος (16.8b). 107 The remaining instance involves the term ἐκθαμβηθῆναι (16.5c), whose possible meaning occupies a space somewhere between extreme amazement and fear, though in the case in question fear is denoted. 108 The instance of being distressed or troubled, ταραχθῆναι (6.50b), is closely related in meaning to the terms indicating fear. 109 Vocabulary is varied for amazement. A default level of amazement is indicated by θαυμάσαι (5.20c). 110 More intense amazement is denoted by θαμβηθῆναι (1.27a) and yet even greater amazement, along with other nuances in meaning, by ἐκστῆναι (2.12c; 5.42d [καὶ ἐξέστησαν... ἐκστάσει μεγάλῃ]; 6.51c), ἔκστασις

105 All responses except Mk 1.45; 3.6; 9.8; 10.52c; 11.20b–21. Dwyer (1996: 20) finds only eight instances of “the motif of wonder” which “involve miracles or exorcisms,” including one (Mk 5.33), which does not meet my definition of “response.” Five others he places in the categories “teaching or passion predictions” (1.27; cf. 6.2); “empty tomb narrative” (16.5, 8; cf. 16.6); and “difficult to categorize” (5.20; 9.6; cf. 6.6). 106 Fear: φοβηθῆναι, φόβος μέγας, ἔκφοβος, τρόμος (cf. τρέμειν). Being alarmed: ἐκθαμβηθῆναι – or troubled: ταραχθῆναι. Amazement: θαμβηθῆναι, ἐκστῆναι, ἔκστασις (μεγάλη), ἐκπλαγῆναι, θαυμάσαι. Note the rare complex ἐκθαμβηθῆναι, present only in Mk in the New Testament, can denote a variety of emotions, ranging from surprise, excitement and amazement, to distress and alarm; cf. BDAG ad loc. (Note in Sir 30.9 ἐκθαμβῆσαι parallels ‫בעת‬.) Like BDAG, I understand ἐκθαμβηθῆναι to mean “be overwhelmed, be alarmed” in Mk 16.5, 6. (In 9.15 it signifies either being “amazed” or “very excited”; in 14.33 “distressed”.) On the semantic range of the terms ἐκστῆναι and ἔκστασις, see Kiffiak (forthcoming). In the contexts here, the sense is one of amazement (yet see n. 122, below, on 3.32). 107 Instead of τρόμος καὶ ἔκστασις in Mk 16.8, a few manuscripts have φόβος καὶ ἔκστασις (D W Π*). 108 See Kiffiak (forthcoming) for further discussion. 109 See Kiffiak (forthcoming) for further discussion. 110 In Mk 6.51c the second verb in the readings of Dc (ἐξείσταντο καὶ ἐθαύμαζον) and A N S W etc. (ἐξίσταντο καὶ ἐθαύμαζον) is a later addition. The text of B (simply ἐξείσταντο; cf. ἐξίσταντο [‫ א‬etc.]) is superior. See further below, n. 114. As an aside I note W in some responses has θαυμάσαι in place of θαμβηθῆναι (1.27a) and ἐκστῆναι (2.12c).

Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers

85

(16.8b) and ἐκπλαγῆναι (7.37). 111 One response has two different emotions: fear (16.8b, 8d) and amazement (16.8b). 112 Of all the instances of emotions only once are those responding the objects of the verb. 113 Interestingly, a direct object is never specified (e.g. “they feared God”). In four stories there is an adverbial constituent intensifying the magnitude of the emotion. 114 As I discussed in Chapter One, the lexemes indicating amazement form a distinct group from those denoting fear and being troubled, which are themselves interrelated and can well be taken jointly as a group. As for distribution, amazement tends to come in (all kinds of) healing stories, 115 whereas fear and being troubled tend to come in rescue nature miracles and/or epiphanies. 116 In fact all four stories in the latter group have fear / being troubled, even when amazement is present. 117 (Both responses, wherever relevant, are in view in the present discussion of the overall story.) Fear occurs, on the other hand, in only two stories of healing and exorcism – and in one instance not without the presence of amazement also. 118 In addition, the fear in the said story is of a hostile nature – this is the one purely negative response in a miracle story that is not from Jesus’ opponents. 119 In the second story, the fear has an uncommon relation to the miracle. 120 With these caveThe terms ἐκστῆναι and ἔκστασις indicate also a sense of being “outside” oneself; and ἐκπλαγῆναι a sense of being “overwhelmed.” See Kiffiak (forthcoming) for further discussion. 112 εἶχεν γὰρ αὐτὰς τρόμος καὶ ἔκστασις... ἐφοβοῦντο γάρ (Mk 16.8). 113 Mk 16.8b: εἶχεν γὰρ αὐτὰς τρόμος καὶ ἔκστασις. Note that, shortly after, the women are the implied subject of a related verb (16.8d): ἐφοβοῦντο. 114 ἐφοβήθησαν φόβον μέγαν (Mk 4.41a); ἐξέστησαν εὐθὺς ἐκστάσει μεγάλῃ (5.42d [B ‫ א‬C etc.] – note P45 A N S W etc. do not have εὐθύς); λείαν ἐν ἑαυτοῖς ἐξείσταντο (6.51c [B – ‫ א‬L Δ have, spelling variations aside, the same text] – less likely are the versions with further amplified emotion, the next strongest reading being: λίαν ἐκ περισσοῦ ἐν ἑαυτοῖς ἐξίσταντο καὶ ἐθαύμαζον [A N S etc.]); ὑπερπερισσῶς ἐκεπλήσσοντο (7.37). Few other adverbials appear (see εὐθύς and ἐν ἑαυτοῖς in the foregoing). 115 Exorcisms (Mk 1.27a; 5.20c), resurrection (5.42d) and other healings (2.12c; 7.37). 116 Rescue nature miracles: Mk 4.41a; 6.50b. Epiphanies: 9.6b; 16.5c; 16.8b,d. 117 One rescue nature miracle story (Mk 6.49–50b; 6.51c–52) and one epiphany story (16.5b–c; 16.8) have amazement in addition to fear / being troubled in the responses. 118 Fear (Mk 5.15c) and amazement (5.20c). 119 The inverted response in a miracle summary of Jesus’ amazement at the lack of faith is relevant (Mk 6.6a). 120 The fear of the woman in Mk 5.33 pertains to her realising not that she has been healed (cf. 5.29b) – see below, Section Q – but that she has not been able to escape Jesus’ notice. (Note some manuscripts preserve an addition to the text which shows a need felt by some to make this connection more explicit: φοβηθεῖσα καὶ τρέμουσα διὸ πεποιήκει λάθρα [D etc.].) But the connection may already be indicated by the use of asyndeton, which seems to mark a close connection between the second and third pre-nuclear participles: φοβηθεῖσα καὶ τρέμουσα εἰδυῖα ὃ γέγονεν αὐτῇ.... Levinsohn (2000: 118, emphasis origi111

86

Chapter 2: Mark

ats, then, association of amazement with healings and fear / being troubled with rescue nature miracles and/or epiphanies is made stronger. Furthermore, encouragement not to be afraid and questioning as to why one is afraid occurs mostly in rescue nature miracles and/or epiphanies. 121 More generally amazement is associated with Jesus’ healings and teaching; fear is not. 122 The verbal element is also common (9 instances in 9 responses, 9 stories). 123 The majority of instances (6) have direct discourse: whether a question (Mk 1.27; 4.41b) or a statement (2.12c; 7.37; 9.5; 11.21). Jesus is often, at least partly, the focus of the utterance. 124 Jesus is commended once. 125 nal; cf. 84) discusses usage of asyndeton in non-narrative texts to mark “close connection.” This seems related since asyndeton in 5.33 is conjoining at a level lower than the sentence. 121 τί δειλοί ἐστε; οὔπω ἔχετε πίστιν; (Mk 4.40); θαρσεῖτε, ἐγώ εἰμι· μὴ φοβεῖσθε (6.50); μὴ ἐκθαμβεῖσθε (16.6). In each case it is the miracle worker and/or epiphanic character speaking. Twice the fear being calmed results from the epiphany. Note the only epiphany containing no admonition to not be afraid is the transfiguration. Only one instance occurs in a healing story: μὴ φοβοῦ, μόνον πίστευε (5.36). (Note the call to courage, without reference to fear: θάρσει, ἔγειρε, φωνεῖ σε [10.49].) Jesus’ calming words in 5.34 do not mention either fear or courage. 122 Barring a citation (Mk 12.11) and an accusation of Jesus being out of his senses (3.21) – included in Dwyer’s (1996: 20) 32 instances of “the motif of wonder” – I count 18 instances of characters’ amazement: 1.22, 27; 2.12; 5.20, 42d; 6.2, 6, 51c; 7.37; 9.15; 10.24, 26, 32; 11.18; 12.17; 15.5, 44; 16.8. Outside of formal responses, amazement occurs: in generic relation to miracles (6.2) and teaching (11.18); and in various instances of specified (10.24, 26; 12.17) or unspecified teaching (1.22; 6.2 [as noted, miracles also generically mentioned here]). Amazement is relatively rare in other contexts (5 of 18): a crowd is amazed to see Jesus (9.15) or that he is going up to Jerusalem (10.32); Jesus is amazed at unbelief (6.6); and Pilate is amazed at Jesus’ silence (15.5) or his quick death (15.44). Characters’ fear occurs 11 times: 4.41; 5.15, 33; 6.20; 9.6, 32; 10.32; 11.18, 32; 12.12; 16.8. (Note the two instances of speech related to the fear of other characters: 4.40; 6.50). Fear once pertains to Jesus’ teaching: the disciples are afraid to ask Jesus about the Son of Humanity’s fate (9.32). Fear appears in contexts other than miracles/teaching more frequently than amazement does, relatively speaking (5 of 11). The disciples’ fear, following Jesus to Jerusalem (10.32; some disciples’ amazement is contrasted here). Four times, various leaders fear: Antipas fears John (6.20); the chief priests and scribes (and the elders) fear (Jesus on account of) the crowd (11.18, 32; 12.12). One of three instances of characters being troubled is in a non-miraculous context: Jesus in Gethsemane (14.33; the other instances are 6.50 and 16.6). (Note the instance of speech related to other characters’ troubled state: 16.6.) 123 Mk 1.27; 2.12c; 4.41b; 5.17; 5.33c 6.49b; 7.37; 9.5; 11.21. Note in 6.49b the response is not verbal, per se, but merely vocal (i.e. screaming). The instance of speech in 3.6 is not included here, since it denotes a type of deliberation worth specific identification in this context. 124 Focus is on: Jesus (Mk 4.41b [here his identity in particular gets attention]; 7.37); Jesus and “the new teaching” (1.27); or Jesus, Moses and Elijah, along with the mountain location (9.5).

Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers

87

Twice there are questions as to the nature of his teaching, authority and/or identity. 126 In one case, a statement meant to honour Jesus is made. 127 Alternatively, the miracle itself alone receives focus (twice). 128 Twice Jesus is the addressee of the direct speech. 129 Otherwise, speech is understood – explicitly or otherwise – to be between those speaking or, in one case, towards God. 130 In the six instances of direct speech the verb εἰπεῖν(/λέγειν) is invariably present. 131 The verbs ἀποκριθῆναι (9.5), δοξάσαι (2.12c) and συνζητῆσαι (1.27) occur, in addition. 132 The two instances of indirect speech are directed at Jesus: a request for him to leave (5.17: ἤρξαντο παρακαλεῖν αὐτὸν ἀπελθεῖν ἀπὸ τῶν ὁρίων αὐτῶν); telling him the truth about what happened (5.33c: εἶπεν αὐτῷ πᾶσαν τὴν ἀλήθειαν). 133 In the remaining instance is only Mk 7.37: καλῶς πάντα πεποίηκεν, καὶ τοὺς κωφοὺς ποιεῖ ἀκούειν καὶ [τοὺς] ἀλάλους λαλεῖν (the reading of ‫ א‬L 33, which do not have the word in brackets [B agrees with them at this point], and the reading A D N S etc., which do have τούς, are equally probable). 126 Mk 1.27 (B ‫ א‬L 33): τί ἐστιν τοῦτο; διδαχὴ καινὴ κατ᾿ ἐξουσίαν· καὶ τοῖς πνεύμασι τοῖς ἀκαθάρτοις ἐπιτάσσει, καὶ ὑπακούουσιν αὐτῷ. (Note some manuscripts have a second question here, following τί ἐστιν τοῦτο, the most notable variants being: τίς ἡ διδαχὴ ἡ καινὴ αὕτη ὅτι κατ᾽ ἐξουσίαν... [C S etc.]; τίς ἡ καινὴ αὕτη διδαχὴ ὅτι κατ᾽ ἐξουσίαν... [A].) The one question in 4.41b – τίς ἄρα οὗτός ἐστιν ὅτι καὶ ὁ ἄνεμος καὶ ἡ θάλασσα ὑπακούει αὐτῷ; (B L) – is variously formulated in manuscripts (notable is the version whose only variant from the text cited is ὑπακούουσιν [A S etc.]). Of course the motif of questions about Jesus appears in other, similar contexts: from crowds – 6.2; cf. also 6.14– 15; 8.27–29 – and from opponents – 2.7, 16, 24; 7.5. On questions in Mk, generally, see Fowler (1991) 131–134. 127 Mk 9.5: ῥαββεί, καλόν ἐστιν ἡμᾶς ὧδε εἶναι, καὶ ποιήσωμεν τρεῖς σκηνάς, σοὶ μίαν καὶ Μωϋσεῖ μίαν καὶ Ἠλείᾳ μίαν (B – ‫א‬, besides a spelling variant, has the same text; some less probable variant readings include the following excerpts: ...εἶναι, ποιήσωμεν σκηνὰς τρεῖς... [A N S]; ...εἶναι, ποιήσωμεν ὧδε τρεῖς σκηνάς... [C cf. P45]; ...εἶναι, [καὶ] θέλεις ποιήσω [ὧδε] σκηνὰς τρεῖς... [D W]). The quality of attention given Jesus is deemed insufficient in Peter’s speech; see discussion below. 128 οὕτως οὐδέποτε εἴδομεν (Mk 2.12c [B ‫א‬c L] – to be preferred to, e.g., οὐδέποτε οὕτως εἴδομεν [A S etc.]); ῥαββί, ἴδε ἡ συκῆ ἣν κατηράσω ἐξήρανται (11.21). 129 In both these instances, the direct discourse begins with ῥαββί and Peter is speaking (Mk 9.5; 11.21). The latter instance also has an indirect object for the speech verb (λέγει αὐτῷ). 130 Explicit: συζητεῖν πρὸς ἑαυτοὺς (Mk 1.27); δοξάζειν τὸν θεὸν (2.12c); πρὸς ἀλλήλους (4.41b). Implicit: 7.37. Of course here Jesus, when mentioned, is spoken of in the third person (1.27; 4.41b; 7.37). 131 Note two early manuscripts (B W) do not have λέγοντας (or λέγειν) in Mk 2.12c. 132 συνζητεῖν... λέγοντας (Mk 1.27); δοξάζειν... λέγοντας (2.12c); ἀποκριθεὶς... λέγει (9.5). 133 The speech of the woman, healed of hemorrhaging, bears some similarity to reporting (see below). But she does not make the miracle known to those who did not know about its occurrence. Jesus knows that healing power has gone out of him. 125

88

Chapter 2: Mark

a scream (6.49b: ἀνακράξαι). Adverbials do not accompany the verbs, other than to specify the addressees. 134 Verbal responses appear in all kinds of miracle stories. 135 The 10 instances of the element of seeing are present in six responses (6 stories). ἰδεῖν is used in each of the responses (2.12c; 5.14c, 16 [a substantive]; 6.49a, 50a; 9.8; 11.20b; 16.5b). 136 In addition θεωρῆσαι (5.15b) and περιβλέψασθαι (9.8) occur. The specific object is explicitly identified in six cases, with Jesus being the object in three of them. 137 Twice the object of a verb is less specific. 138 Twice a verb has no object, but what is seen is supplied in a following clause. 139 Adverbials rarely modify the verb. 140 All types of miracle stories are pertinent. 141 There are eight instances of reporting of the miracle (in 6 responses, 5 stories). κηρύξαι is used three times (Mk 1.45a; 5.20b; 7.36b). Other words or phrases occur once each: ἐξῆλθεν ἡ ἀκοὴ αὐτοῦ (1.28), διαφημίσαι (1.45a), ἀπαγγεῖλαι (5.14b), 142 διηγήσασθαι (5.16); εἰπεῖν (16.8c). Often there is an object, whether a noun (ὁ λόγος [1.45a – re. διαφημίσαι]; οὐδέν [16.8c]) or a

134 I.e., it is not specified through adverbial constituents if the speech is loud/quiet, enthusiastic, repeated etc. In addition to the addressees of direct speech, already noted, is the addressee of one indirect speech (5.17: ἤρξαντο παρακαλεῖν αὐτόν). 135 Exorcisms (Mk 1.27; 5.17), other healings (2.12c; 7.37), a mundane nature miracle (11.21), rescue nature miracles (4.41b; 6.49b) and an epiphany (9.5). 136 Note in Mk 5.16 a few manuscripts read εἰδότες (W Δ etc.) for ἰδόντες (B ‫ א‬D S etc.). 137 θεωροῦσιν τὸν δαιμονιζόμενον καθήμενον ἱματισμένον καὶ σωφρονοῦντα, τὸν ἐσχηκότα τὸν λεγιῶνα (Mk 5.15b [B] – some manuscripts [A C S etc.], with virtually the same text, read ...καθήμενον καὶ ἱματισμένον...); ἰδόντες αὐτὸν ἐπὶ τῆς θαλάσσης περιπατοῦντα (6.49a); αὐτὸν εἶδον (6.50a [A N S W etc. cf. P45] – perhaps equally possible is αὐτὸν εἶδαν [B ‫ ;)]א‬οὐκέτι οὐδένα εἶδον ἀλλὰ τὸν Ἰησοῦν μόνον μεθ᾿ ἑαυτῶν (9.8); εἶδον τὴν συκῆν ἐξηραμμένην ἐκ ῥιζῶν (11.20b); εἶδον νεανίσκον καθήμενον ἐν τοῖς δεξιοῖς περιβεβλημένον στολὴν λευκήν (16.5b). 138 οὕτως οὐδέποτε εἴδομεν (Mk 2.12c) – see also, below, n. 140. ἰδεῖν τί ἐστιν τὸ γεγονός (5.14c) – though this is quickly followed by a verb of seeing with a specified object (5.15b; see above, n. 137). Cf. also the reference in 9.9 (ἵνα μηδενὶ ἃ εἶδον διηγήσωνται...). 139 In Mk 5.16 what was seen by the swine herders (οἱ ἰδόντες) seems specified in the content of their reporting (πῶς ἐγένετο τῷ δαιμονιζομένῳ καὶ περὶ τῶν χοίρων), events also narrated earlier. The verb περιβλεψάμενοι (9.8) has no object. But the phrase immediately following makes explicit what they did not see (no others, besides Jesus; e.g. not Moses, nor Elijah, nor the cloud). 140 οὕτως οὐδέποτε (Mk 2.12c); ἐξάπινα (9.8); οὐκέτι (9.8). 141 An exorcism (Mk 5.14c, 15b, 16), another healing (2.12c), a mundane nature miracle (11.20b), a rescue nature miracle (6.49a, 50a), and epiphanies (9.8; 16.5b). 142 ἀπήγγειλαν (B A C D L) is preferable to ἀνήγγειλαν (S W etc.) and similar variants.

Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers

89

dependent clause (5.16; 5.20b). 143 The verb is often modified by an adverbial expressing the wide extent of the report’s spread. 144 It should be noted that in various miracle stories Jesus commands observers/recipients not to report about the happenings. 145 In one noteworthy instance, it is made explicit that no reporting took place (16.8c) – and this despite an injunction to report (16.7). 146 Twice more there is a positive command. Once (1.43–44) it is disobeyed (1.45a); once (5.19) it is followed in a greatly amplified manner (5.20b). The positive articulation of the reporting element in a response occurs in stories of exorcisms and other healings only. 147 A statement in an epiphany story (16.8c) indicates that reporting did not take place. There are 11 instances (in 7 responses, 6 stories) of movement between locations. Twice groups flee, employing three instances of the element (φυγεῖν: Mk 5.14a; 148 16.8a; ἐξελθεῖν: 16.8a). Once someone’s departure is an act of obedience (ἀπελθεῖν: 5.20a). 149 Twice a generic description of motion away occurs (ἐξελθεῖν: 1.45a; 3.6). Once someone follows Jesus (ἀκολουθῆσαι: 10.52c). 150 Once a healed person comes to him (ἐλθεῖν: 5.33a). Three times (in 2 responses) coming to Jesus is the response of secondary respondents, i.e. those responding to reports of a miracle (ἐλθεῖν: 1.45c; 5.14c, 15a). 151 Twice a pronominal object is specified (αὐτῷ: 5.33a; 10.52c). Four times 143 πῶς ἐγένετο τῷ δαιμονιζομένῳ καὶ περὶ τῶν χοίρων (Mk 5.16); ὅσα ἐποίησεν αὐτῷ ὁ Ἰησοῦς (5.20b). 144 εὐθὺς πανταχοῦ εἰς ὅλην τὴν περίχωρον τῆς Γαλιλαίας (Mk 1.28); πολλά (1.45a [B ‫ א‬A etc.; not in D W], re. κηρύσσειν – for διαφημίζειν the notion of extent is in the verb itself); εἰς τὴν πόλιν καὶ εἰς τοὺς ἀγρούς (5.14b); ἐν τῇ Δεκαπόλει (5.20b); ὅσον δὲ αὐτοῖς διεστέλλετο... μᾶλλον περισσότερον (7.36b [B A N S W etc. cf. P45] – preferable to μᾶλλον περισσοτέρως [‫ א‬D etc.]). The other adverbial is εὐθὺς (1.28; see above). 145 Before the response (Mk 1.43–44; 7.36a) or after (5.43; cf. 9.9). In 1.43–44 and 7.36a Jesus’ command is contrasted with the reporting (1.45a; 7.36b), done contrary to his wishes. Cf. also 8.26 (with no response), where the aftermath to the command is not narrated. Related are commands to be silent to the unclean spirits: 1.25; 3.12; cf. 1.34. (A command to be silent in a non-miraculous context is in 8.30). 146 The statement about not reporting is, in fact, the final main clause of what may be the earliest extant version of the narrative. See discussion below. 147 Reporting is connected to exorcisms (Mk 1.28; 5.14b, 16; 5.20b) and other healings (1.45a; 7.36b). 148 The new location is specified in the following sentence (the city and the fields: Mk 5.14b). 149 The new location is specified in the following sentence (the Decapolis: Mk 5.20b). 150 Note the one prohibition of following (Mk 5.19). 151 In Mk 5.14c, 15a people come to Jesus upon hearing a report from the swine herders (note in 5.14c ἦλθον [B ‫א‬c A etc.] is a superior reading to ἐξῆλθον [‫ * א‬C D S W etc.]). Yet upon their arrival they are treated as primary respondents in the story, they see the exdemoniac, become afraid and respond verbally to Jesus. In 1.45c those who hear about the miracle (many people) come to Jesus. o

90

Chapter 2: Mark

adverbials occur. 152 An infinitive construction accompanies the main verb once. 153 Six instances (in 5 responses, 4 stories) of a cognitive element occur: a statement concerning knowledge (εἰδέναι: Mk 5.33; 9.6a), understanding (συνεῖναι: 6.52a; ἦν αὐτῶν ἡ καρδία πεπωρωμένη: 6.52b), thought processing (δόξαι: 6.49a) or memory (ἀναμνησθῆναι: 11.21). Vocabulary is, thus, varied. A specified object is in three of four instances a subordinate clause. 154 Once (6.49a) the object is Jesus. Interestingly, the element is presented positively just twice (5.33a; 11.21). Twice the relevant sentence is negated (6.52a; 9.6a); once structure 155 and lexical semantics indicate failure (6.52b); and context indicates that the cognitive activity in the remaining instance is less than successful (6.49a). Once a bodily motion (other than movement between locations) appears: falling (προσπεσεῖν: 5.33b – cf. service in 1.31c). A pronominal object is given (αὐτῷ: 5.33a). The gesture is performed in relation to Jesus. (I note the somewhat related instance of serving [διηκόνει αὐτοῖς: 1.31c] 156 in what may be a response.) Finally, there is one instance of conspiring against Jesus (συμβούλιον ἐδίδουν κατ᾿ αὐτοῦ, ὅπως αὐτὸν ἀπολέσωσιν; Mk 3.6). 157 Its anomalous 152 With adverbials pertaining to spatiality: πρὸς τὸν Ἰησοῦν (Mk 5.15a); ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ (10.52c); ἀπὸ τοῦ μνημείου (16.8a). With another adverbial: εὐθύς (3.6). 153 ἦλθον ἰδεῖν τί ἐστιν τὸ γεγονός (Mk 5.14c). 154 Subordinate clauses as objects: εἰδυῖα ὃ γέγονεν αὐτῇ (Mk 5.33a); ἔδοξαν ὅτι φάντασμά ἐστιν (6.49); οὐ γὰρ ᾔδει τί ἀποκριθῇ (9.6). Other object: οὐ γὰρ συνῆκαν ἐπὶ τοῖς ἄρτοις (6.52a). 155 In Mk 6.52 ἀλλά, used to correct or replace (οὐ... ἀλλά – see above, n. 101), indicates that 6.52b is something other than understanding (συνεῖναι). 156 καὶ διηκόνει αὐτοῖς (Mk 1.31c) may function merely as the indication of the healing’s efficacy and not as a response, since there is only one potential element (3 words), an action not appearing in any other response. The response bearing the closest similarity is 10.52c: καὶ ἠκολούθει αὐτῷ ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ. This response also consists of a sole movement element with a verb that otherwise does not appear in responses. By this time in the narrative, however, the verb has been well established as an appropriate reaction (and, thus, response) to Jesus, notably already in the opening story of Jesus’ activity in the Galilee (1.18; cf. also, especially, 2.14, 8.34, 10.21, 28); cf. Malbon (2000: 72–78). διακονῆσαι does not receive so strong an association with discipleship, though when the women followers are introduced at the crucifixion, they are described with both verbs under discussion: αἳ ὅτε ἦν ἐν τῇ Γαλιλαίᾳ ἠκολούθουν αὐτῷ καὶ διηκόνουν αὐτῷ (15.41). But this description and Jesus’ call to serve and his praise of the Son of Humanity’s service (10.42– 45) come much later. More decisive, it seems, is the closely preceding, entirely positive description of angels serving Jesus (1.13c). My position is closest to that of Culpepper (2007: 59); cf. Broadhead (1992: 63; 2001: 26); Malbon (2000: 49; 207, n. 35); Lau (2013: 214). 157 So B L etc. Some manuscripts read ἐποίησαν (‫ א‬C etc.) or ἐποίουν (A S P etc.).

Combinations of Elements within Responses

91

nature is matched by the lack of analogy to the unbridled aggression it expresses (only 5.14–17 also contains a decidedly negative response; there Jesus is simply asked to leave the region). A statement about Jesus remaining in uninhabited regions occurs in one response (1.45b). 158 Other than a copula or similarly nondescript verbs, 159 the above discussion accounts for all verbs describing events and states in the responses. 160 It is worth noting that an affirmation of recipients’ faith occurs elsewhere in some stories. 161 The question arises as to whether the same types of elements exist in the other gospels and, if so, whether they occur in similar proportionality? Also, significantly, is the differentiation between amazement and fear / being troubled relevant in the other gospels as it is in Mark?

E. Combinations of Elements within Responses Are any patterns discernible for combinations of elements within the responses? On occasion there is only one (main) 162 element type – Mk 5.42d: emotional (amazement); 9.8: seeing; 163 10.52c: movement (following); cf. Mk 1.31c. More commonly there are multiple kinds of elements in a given response – mostly two (3.6; 4.41; 6.51c–52; 16.5) or three (1.27–28; 1.45; 2.12c; 5.20; 7.36b–37; 9.5–6; 11.20b–21; 16.8). There is one response with four elements (6.49–50b) and two with five elements (5.14–17; 5.33). These 158 ὥστε μηκέτι αὐτὸν δύνασθαι φανερῶς εἰς πόλιν εἰσελθεῖν, ἀλλ᾿ ἔξω ἐπ᾿ ἐρήμοις τόποις ἦν (Mk 1.45b). 159 εἶναι: ἦν αὐτῶν ἡ καρδία πεπωρωμένη (Mk 6.52b); γενέσθαι: ἔκφοβοι γὰρ ἐγένοντο (9.6b); ἄρξασθαι: ἤρξατο κηρύσσειν... καὶ διαφημίζειν (1.45a), ἤρξαντο παρακαλεῖν (5.17), ἤρξατο κηρύσσειν (5.20); ἔχειν: εἶχεν γὰρ αὐτὰς τρόμος καὶ ἔκστασις (16.8). 160 On the dependent clause ὅσον... αὐτοῖς διεστέλλετο (Mk 7.36b) as part of an adverbial see above, n. 144. It does not describe an event per se, but constitutes tail-head linkage (cf. 7.36a) which “slows the pace” – “an oft-used highlighting device to point forward to something important” (Runge 2010: 167). 161 Mk 2.5 (re. 2.12c); 10.52a (re. 10.52c); cf. 5.34. The theme of faith appears in other miracle stories as well: 4.40; 5.36; 9.19, 23–24; 11.22–24. Jesus, too, is amazed at the lack of faith in a miracle summary (6.6a). Thus, of the 17 times the word group πίστις, πιστεῦσαι etc. is employed – see Marshall (1989: 1, n. 2) – only three are in contexts where miracles do not transpire (1.15; 11.31; 15.32). Marshall (1989: 235) quoting Karl Kertelge, affirms that in Mk faith is “the basic presupposition for access to the miracles of Jesus.” 162 For the present discussion (i.e. in Section E) the statement about the effect of the response on Jesus (Mk 1.45b) is bracketed. 163 As mentioned previously, for the justification of this instance of visual sensation as constituting a response, see the discussion in Section Q.

92

Chapter 2: Mark

observations are displayed visually in Table 1, below. A reminder: for the moment I make no differentiation between the actions of different characters or character groups within a formally defined response. The most common collocation is of the emotional and verbal elements, present in eight responses: Mk 1.27–28; 2.12c; 4.41; 5.14–17; 5.33; 6.49– 50b; 7.36b–37; 9.5–6. This accounts for eight of nine instances of the verbal element. Over half of the stories have such a combination. Direct speech occurs commonly enough with both amazement (1.27–28; 2.12c; 7.36b–37) and fear (4.41; 9.5–6). 164 Reporting appears with emotions in five responses (1.27–28; 5.14–17; 5.20; 7.36–37; 16.8), accounting for six of eight instances of reporting. Three of these responses contain amazement alone, one fear alone (5.14–17), one both amazement and fear (16.8). Successful reporting, though, when a close causal connection with an emotion exists is associated with amazement (1.27–28; 5.20; 7.36b–37; cf. 5.14–17). 165 Five other collocations appear in four responses each: emotion and seeing; 166 emotion and cognition; 167 emotion and movement; 168 seeing and verbal; 169 reporting and movement. 170 All four occurrences of faulty cognitive processing are associated with an emotion (6.49–50; 6.51c–52 [twice] 9.6). Emotional, verbal and seeing elements collocate three times (2.12c; 5.14–17; 6.49–50b). Three other kinds of triple collocations occur equally as frequently: emotional, verbal and cognitive elements (5.33; 6.49–50b; 9.5–6); emotional, verbal and reporting (1.27–28; 5.14–17; 7.36b–37); emotion, move164 This is true, too, of the questions: Mk 1.27–28 (amazement), 4.41 (fear). Where there is no direct discourse, though, the verbal element collocates with fear (5.14–17; 5.33 and 6.49–50b). 165 Twice an emotion (amazement) is the result of reporting (Mk 5.20; 7.36b–37). In 1.27–28 reporting follows amazement. In 5.14–17 the explicit mention of fear comes as a result from seeing the ex-demoniac, not from hearing a report. Nor does (explicit mention of) fear precipitate reporting, though the physical act of flight may well imply the emotion of fear. Formally speaking, however, there is no connection. The noted lack of reporting in 16.8 is causally related to the fear. 166 Seven of 10 instances of visual sensation occur with emotions: with fear / being troubled in three responses (Mk 5.14–17; 6.49–50b; 16.5) and amazement in the other (2.12c). 167 Five of six instances of the cognitive element are described in conjunction with an emotion – fear / being troubled: Mk 5.33; 6.49–50b; 9.5–6; amazement: 6.51c–52 (twice). 168 Seven of 11 instances of movement come together with emotion (Mk 5.14–17; 5.20; 5.33; 16.8). 169 Occurrences of the collocations of seeing and verbal elements (Mk 2.12c; 5.14–17; 6.49–50b; 11.20b–21) account for seven of 10 instances of visual sensation. 170 Six of eight instances of reporting appear with movement (Mk 1.45; 5.14–17; 5.20; 16.8).

Combinations of Elements within Responses

93

ment and reporting (5.14–17; 5.20; 16.8). Only one of the triple collocations has a consistent type of emotion. 171 Finally, I note that on average, amazement appears with fewer and fear / being troubled with more elements. 172 As for the aforementioned distinction between types of miracles stories, some further observations can be made. The four rescue nature miracles and/or epiphanies have responses of two to four elements, with one special exception (9.8 – the only response to consist of just visual sensation). As noted previously, all of the six remaining responses contain emotion, with fear / being troubled (in contrast to amazement) being predominant. Five of these responses contain, in addition, just (one or more of) the following elements: verbal, seeing and cognitive. All instances of faulty cognitive activity occur here. The remaining, exceptional response (16.8) has, in addition to emotion, movement and the one instance of unsuccessful reporting. 173 On the other hand, eight of 10 responses in the nine healing stories have one to three elements, 174 often consisting of amazement, speech, reporting, movement (each element occurs with roughly the same frequency) or a combination. 175 Seeing occurs just in one of the said responses (2.12c). Two responses (5.14–17; 5.33) are exceptions to the rule, consisting of five component types and having the emotion of fear. The first of these, along with 3.6, is unique, as noted above, owing to its hostile nature. 176 The nature of the remaining response (5.33) is also exceptional in the narrative, as the character responding (see below) does not do so immediately, but only after Jesus attempts at some length to find out who touched him. The fear pertains more to her being caught touching Jesus, despite her efforts at secrecy, than to the realisation that she is healed (cf. 5.29b). The one remaining nature miracle bears greater similarity to the healing stories. 177 The question arises as to whether such patterns are found in the other gospels. A corollary question arises, already at this point in the investigation, as to whether and where such 171 Emotional, verbal and cognitive components occur in responses that have fear / being troubled only. 172 Amazement: one (Mk 5.42d); two (6.51c–52); or three elements (1.27–28; 2.12c; 5.20; 7.36b–37). Fear / being troubled: two (4.41; 16.5b–c); three (9.5–6; 16.8); four (6.49–50b) or five (5.14–17; 5.33). 173 Mk 16.8 also has the movement element of fleeing. 174 One (Mk 5.42d; 10.52c; cf. 1.31c), two (1.45; 3.6) and three (1.27–28; 2.12c; 7.36b– 37). 175 Amazement (Mk 1.27–28; 2.12c; 5.20; 5.42d; 7.36b–37), speech (1.27–28; 2.12c; 7.36b–37; 11.20b–21), reporting (1.27–28; 1.45; 5.20; 7.36b–37) and movement (1.45; 5.14–17; 5.20; 10.52c). (In 1.31c there would only be the movement element.) 176 Note Mk 5.14–17 contains visual sensation. 177 Mk 11.20b–21 has seeing and verbal elements only. Other responses without emotion are found in stories of healing: 1.45; 3.6; 10.52c (9.8 [seeing only], occurring in an epiphany story, is a special case – see below, Section Q).

94

Chapter 2: Mark

patterns might be found in other literature, Jewish and/or other. Preliminary answers will be considered at the end of the study, in Chapter Seven.

F. Relative Priority of Elements What is the typical level of prominence in the responses, if any, for a given element? Discourse analysis will help elucidate this. First, a simple sentence count and assessment is given. Identifying the main verbs of the sentences might give a general indication of the relative priority of the elements. One response (2.12c) consists of a dependent clause only. This instance aside, responses generally consist of one to four sentences. 178 The emotional, reporting and movement elements, when present, always are (or are directly associated with) 179 the main verb. Others, too, are main verbs – verbal element (in 5 of 8 responses) and seeing ([at least one instance] in 5 of 6 responses). 180 Still, priority is likely to have a close correspondence to prominence in the discourse. 181 To this I now turn. I. Foreground/background and mainline/offline The foreground of a discourse relates to “thematic prominence: ‘this is what I’m talking about.’” 182 A narrative is a form of discourse fundamentally concerned with the chronological progression of actions and events – in Robert Longacre’s (1996: 8) terms “contingent temporal succession.” 183 Here the 178 One (Mk 5.42d; 6.51c–52; 9.8; 10.52c; cf. 1.31c); two (1.27–28; 4.41; 7.36b–37; 11.20b–21 [with the exception of the initial participle, 11.20a ]; 16.5b–c); three (1.45; 5.20; 5.33; 9.5–6); four (6.49–50b; 16.8); and, once, eight (5.14–17). 179 I.e. ἤρξατο κηρύσσειν... καὶ διαφημίζειν (Mk 1.45a); ἤρξατο κηρύσσειν (5.20b); ἔκφοβοι... ἐγένοντο (9.6b); εἶχεν... αὐτὰς τρόμος καὶ ἔκστασις (16.8b). (Similar is 2.12c, where the emotion is one of two infinitives in the result clause.) The main verbs here are discussed above, in Section D. Note 5.33 (φοβηθεῖσα καὶ τρέμουσα) does not fit this pattern. 180 Verbal: Mk 4.41b; 5.17; 6.49b; 9.5; 11.21 (cf. 2.12c – 1 of 2 infinitives). Seeing: 5.15b; 6.50a; 9.8; 11.20b; 16.5b–c. 181 I say “likely” because literary considerations play a part in this assessment. Cf. Section Q (on e.g. Mk 16.1–8). 182 Levinsohn (2000: 169, citing Kathleen Callow; emphasis original); cf. Fanning (2011: 172), referring to Helen Aristar-Dry. Callow uses “prominence” to refer “to any device whatever which gives certain events, participants, or objects more significance than others in the same context” (Levinsohn 2000: 7). 183 Longacre (1996: 8, emphasis original) classifies “all possible discourses in all languages according to two basic etic parameters: contingent temporal succession and agent orientation.” Narrative is marked for both. Cf. also Levinsohn (2000: 169) and Fanning (2011: 168–170). (Longacre [1996: 9–11] discusses secondary parameters also.) A caveat

Relative Priority of Elements

95

mainline – the “basic narrative framework of sequenced events” – is “of primary importance... and thus ‘foreground’” (Fanning 2011: 173; emphasis mine). Background information consists of offline material: non-events (“‘setting,’ ‘explanatory information,’” etc.) 184 and events outside the sequential framework. Fittingly, in Hellenistic Greek the aorist indicative is associated closely with the foreground of a narrative (Fanning 2011:173; cf. 179). 185 This verb form presents an event or action as both perfective, in terms of aspect, 186 and past, in terms of temporal location (“tense”). 187 It is the unmarked verb form for narrative discourse. The background is commonly conveyed by the imperfect, an indicative verb form which is past and has imperfective aspect (Fanning 2011: 179). 188 Connectives (see below, Section M), too, play an important role in indicating background material, the simplest example being γάρ. 189 II. Levels of prominence in foreground material Among foreground actions and events there are differing levels of prominence. When the aorist indicative, being unmarked, is the main verb of a may be made regarding “literary texts with more complex plot structures” in which “characterization, setting, symbols, etc. may assume more importance for the theme than an event line” (Fanning 2011: 173, n. 54, citing Helen Aristar-Dry) – mostly modern, especially belletristic, literature is in mind, it seems. 184 Levinsohn 2000: 169, citing Joseph E. Grimes. 185 Verbs with perfective aspect, rather than imperfective, provide the mainline of the narrative in numerous languages. For bibliography see Fanning (2011: 172–176, especially 172, n. 52, and 175, n. 63). 186 “Verbal aspect should be defined as a ‘viewpoint’ feature. This means that aspect is a matter of the speaker’s (or writer’s) portrayal or point of view... It is governed by what the speaker chooses to focus on, not by features of the objective situation... [It] is of a different semantic order than actional characteristics like duration, repetition, boundedness, existing state, and so on – features sometimes labeled Aktionsarten,” (Fanning 2011: 158). Perfective and imperfective, the two overarching aspectual categories in Hellenistic Greek, are seen in the verb forms using the aorist stem and present stem, respectively. 187 Fanning (2011: 157–178) gives a respectful yet devastating criticism of the tenseless verb system model, championed, above all, by Stanley Porter. Similar criticisms are offered by Runge (2011) and Barnard (2006), though for the latter focus should have been on indicative verbs of main clauses (cf. n. 211 below). 188 Similarly, on the imperfect in classical Greek narrative, see Rijksbaron (2002: 11– 13). Fanning (2011: 177) comments on other indicative verb forms in narratives: “Where perfects or pluperfects do occasionally appear in main clauses within narratives, they function typically like imperfects in providing background information to supplement the aorist main line story.” 189 Background material is introduced by other connectives, too, like καί and δέ (see below).

96

Chapter 2: Mark

sentence, the event/action it portrays, all things being equal, has the default level of prominence. Demotion and highlighting can happen within a sentence or intersententially. 190 As to the former, since the default or unmarked order in a sentence is VSO (verb-subject-object), 191 when clause components or subordinated clauses are fronted (placed before the verb), they are marked. The Dikian functional linguistic framework proposes “two different preverbal positions that may or may not be filled in any given clause” (Runge 2010: 190). New information receives “emphasis” (position 2 [P2]), while information that is “known or knowable” becomes a “frame of reference” (position 1 [P1]) (Runge 2010: 190, 194, emphasis mine). 192 If both positions are filled, then the “known or knowable” (P1) precedes the “new” (P2). In addition, events/actions in the common “circumstantial frames” (“circumstantial participial clauses placed before the verb of the main clause”; P1) are demoted with respect to the main verb (Runge 2010: 250). 193 When a participial clause follows the main verb, “[T]he relative importance of the information conveyed in the two clauses has to be deduced from the context.” 194 I hold the same for result clauses at the end of a sentence. 195 Still when a participial clause agrees in case with the subject of the preceding clause, “[r]ather than offering a distinct action in its own right, the participle 190 Note to avoid confusion with foreground/background, I refer to “backgrounded” mainline events/actions as “of secondary importance,” “less prominent” or “demoted” – Randall Buth (personal communication) prefers the last term. 191 Runge 2010: 181–192. This seems to be true, too, of classical Greek, in as much as Herodotus may provide an indication (Dik 1995). 192 “Frame of reference” is Runge’s term. But there is diversity of nomenclature for this feature of language: “topicalization” (the traditional term), “point of departure” (Levinsohn) and “contextualizing constituent” (Buth) – see Runge (2010: 190, n. 29) for references. The Dikian framework has been applied successfully to many languages (cf. e.g. Whaley 2011: 257–258, n. 11). 193 Levinsohn observes, “Cross-linguistically, the information conveyed in pre-nuclear subordinate clauses is backgrounded in relation to that conveyed in the main clause,” (2012: 73, emphasis original). This is not true, he notes, of post-nuclear subordinate clauses. 194 Levinsohn 2000: 184–187 (186). Note when a continuative relative clause (“linking events in chronological sequence”) follows the main verb, “[c]haracteristically, the information preceding the relative pronoun is backgrounded vis-à-vis what follows” (Levinsohn 2000: 191). Cross-linguistically, information in “post-nuclear” subordinate clauses often presents mainline events (Levinsohn 2012: 73, n. 96). 195 Runge sees final-position result clauses as “the most important part of the clause [sic; probably ‘sentence’ is meant]” (2010: 237–242 [239]; cf. 242). Buth (personal communication) sees the verbs in ὥστε clauses, when infinitives are concerned, as “somewhat off the most prominent chain of events, filling in the detail, as it were.” Levinsohn does not directly address ὥστε clauses in narrative contexts, as far as I am aware (on post-nuclear subordinate clauses, generally, cf. above, n. 193).

Relative Priority of Elements

97

relegates its action to supporting the main action... typically adding more detail or elaboration...” (Runge 2010: 262–263). 196 As to intersentential prominence, I turn to imperfect verbs as the main verbs of their respective sentences, in instances when they relate mainline events/actions. In certain cases, they provide a “more vivid, up-close portrayal of the events... They put readers as it were right on the scene as virtual eyewitnesses...” (Fanning 2011: 179). 197 Such usage is marked vis-à-vis the aorist indicative (Fanning 2011: 179). The event is highlighted with respect to the main events of default sentences. Fanning (2011: 179–181) and Loney (2005) are inclined to see a greater frequency of this usage. 198 My analysis of sentences cited by the two scholars for this position finds the sentences are often better understood as presenting background material. 199 196 “These elaborating participles... [are] less salient than the finite verbs” (Runge 2010: 262). 197 In contrast, Rijksbaron (2002:14–19, 22–23) recognises a use of – not the imperfect but – the historical present for an “eyewitness effect.” Classical usage lays largely outside the purview of the present study. However, the claims of scholars of the Gospels for such usage of the historical present in these Hellenistic texts are mistaken. 198 Fanning and Loney both draw on the work of Bakker (1997) on Thucydides. The following claim is foundational for Loney’s (2005: 10) study: “The preface to his gospel (1,1–4) most demonstrably makes the case for Luke’s ability to use the conventions of Greek historiography....” In the supporting note, however, are references to 3 sources, all from the 1980s or earlier. Thus, much scholarship is neglected, notably Alexander (1993) and, in response, Aune (2002) – Alexander (2005: 12–19) has since replied to Aune and other critics. Even Aune, offering the strongest argument for affinity to Hellenistic history writing of some kind, argues Luke’s preface is akin to those of amateur historians. His position is far from that of the earlier publications cited by Loney: works of Hellenistic historiography proper, such as that of Thucydides, “are written by authors with a social status to which Luke could never have aspired and in an elevated style he could never have emulated” (Aune 2002: 142). The question Loney and Fanning must answer is: Is a rapid alternation between “diegetic” [via aorist indicative] and “mimetic” [via imperfect] “modes of discourse” found in the writings of those authors with similar social standing and stylistic ability to Luke? 199 Fanning’s (2011: 180–181) bifurcation of uses of the imperfect – i.e. background=“general, customary imperfects” and foreground=“descriptive imperfects,” i.e. “used in regard to a specific, narrow situation in context” – takes a decided step away from his earlier work (Fanning 1990: 240–255), though there discourse analysis per se is not addressed. Where do “conative” or “inceptive” imperfects fit in? They too present events in a “specific, narrow situation in context.” Yet the “attempted or intended but not accomplished” event (Fanning 1990: 249, emphasis original) of a conative imperfective is demoted with respect to the interrupting event. This is the case in Mt 3.14, Lk 5.6 and, possibly, Mk 5.18 (cited by Fanning [2011: 181] for the “vivid” usage). Fanning (1990: 241) originally differentiated between two, mutually exclusive types of imperfects with “a narrow frame of reference” and, thus, portraying “a specific situation” (emphasis original): “either vivid narration of a situation in the past or the presentation of an occurrence in

98

Chapter 2: Mark

In other instances of the imperfect, as noted by Randall Buth (1998: 144– 145), a fade-out usage can be detected. 200 This, I suggest, includes speech verbs. 201 The “camera” of the narrator qua “film director” leaves the scene before the last mentioned event is completed. The usage demotes an episode’s final event/action, 202 though it, unlike background material, still belongs to the basic chronological sequence of events. Seven of 21 miracle stories in Mark, in fact, end like this. In all but potentially one instance (Mk 1.31c) the fade-out imperfect is (part of) the response itself: 1.45c; 3.6;

close simultaneity with another situation in the past” (emphasis mine). In Lk 9.34 – the one instance cited by both Fanning (2011: 181) and Loney (2005: 16) – a punctiliar event occurs while another event yet unfolds. The cloud is first stated to be enveloping them (ἐπεσκίαζεν). The next event (ἐφοβήθησαν), an ingressive one, occurs explicitly ἐν τῷ εἰσελθεῖν αὐτοὺς εἰς τὴν νεφέλην. Contingent temporal succession would be violated, if ἐπεσκίαζεν were taken as a “vivid” mainline event. The same is true for Lk 24.14–15a (cited by Fanning [2011]): καὶ αὐτοὶ ὠμίλουν... καὶ ἐγένετο ἐν τῷ ὠμιλεῖν αὐτοὺς.... And the imperfects in 24.15b–16 set the scene for the dialogue (24.17–27). Space does not permit a more throughout critique of Fanning’s and Loney’s examples (though on some see following notes). Others, too, are better understood as presenting background material. For more examples of imperfects denoting specific and not customary events as background material, see Runge (2011: 201–202). 200 Buth cites Lk 4.30 as an example. This usage of the imperfect seems to occur in a number of instances cited by Fanning (2011: 181) and Loney (2005: 31) as a “vivid” or “mimetic” usage of the imperfect: e.g. Mt 4.11; Mk 5.20 (i.e. a response); 11.9–10; 12.17; Lk 4.30, 37 (also a response to a miracle; see Chapter Four, below). Others could be included, possibly Lk 2.38, for example. A study dedicated to investigating this usage is a desideratum. 201 E.g. Mk 11.9–10. A word on speech verbs in the imperfect is necessary. Runge (2011: 201–201) claims they are used “in three discourse contexts... [1] to introduce an ongoing state-of-affair, such as dialoging that occurs concurrently with or preceding the main action [e.g. Mt 9.11]... [2] at the beginning of a long speech... as ingressive, inchoative, or inceptive [e.g. Mt 5.2]... [3] redundant mid-speech quotative frames... [e.g. Mk 2.27].” For each type of usage he provides a number of additional examples. Space does not permit a general assessment. Still, some of these actually evidence a fade-out usage: Mt 9.34 (a responses to a miracle; cf. 12.23, on which see Chapter Three); possibly 21.11; and Mk 4.41 (i.e. a response). Runge, does not address Fanning’s claims (or Loney’s) that the imperfect, including speech verbs, can present “vivid” foreground events. Until such time as a comprehensive study is done, the question must remain undecided. Runge’s second and third context are similar to the fade-out usage (see below) in that they probably are to be understood as the author’s choice to demote the action (see e.g. the aorist indicative as a mid-speech quotative frame in Lk 6.39). (According to convention, in the context of discourse analysis I refer to an “author.”) 202 So Buth 1998: 144–145. Further study of this usage of the imperfect is a desideratum. To my mind the possibility that such usage aids in processing – but does not mark prominence; see nn. 205 and 206 below – is worth exploring.

Relative Priority of Elements

99

4.41b; 5.20b; 7.37; 10.52c. 203 No particular element in responses is preferred for fade-out usage (see below, Table 1). The historical present (HP) presents mainline events, akin to the aorist indicative. The dissonance created, however, through its “mismatch of tense and aspect” can have one or more pragmatic effects. 204 Runge (2010: 142) argues that, given thematic discontinuity in the sentence with the HP (e.g. a new episode begins), the HP highlights the discontinuity and aids in processing. 205 Given thematic continuity, the HP highlights “a significant [mainline] speech or event that immediately follows” (Runge 2010: 137, emphasis mine). 206 For others, however, the HP always has this function of cataphoric highlighting. 207 I am inclined to follow Runge’s scheme. 208 (On clusters of HPs see Section O.) Nevertheless, Runge’s model needs some adjustment, it seems, when it comes to speech HPs in contexts of thematic continuity. He argues that some speech HPs highlight, not subsequent speech or action(s), but the speech 203

Mk 6.51c is a relevant case, though it is followed by background material which concludes the episode (6.52). Though not a fade-out imperfect, 2.12c (ὥστε ἐξίστασθαι... καὶ δοξάζειν...) is also worth mentioning, as another instance of a response given in imperfective aspect that concludes a miracle story. 204 On the “mismatch” due to its unexpected indication of temporal location and aspect in a narrative framework carried by aorists, see Runge (2011: 202–203). Fanning (2011: 184–185) takes the HP’s forward-pointing function as a result of “tense-value, not aspect, ” since he sees “a greater role for imperfects in the narrative main line.” But his objection is unwarranted, since he accepts that the aorist indicative is here the unmarked and the imperfect a marked verb form, whose markedness is based on its aspect. But more can be said. Runge (2011: 201–203) has argued, in an analysis of speech verbs, for seeing the HP functioning like an aorist indicative and not like an imperfect. 205 Similarly, for classical Greek, see Rijksbaron (2002: 24–25). A discourse device aiding in processing “has the effect of accentuating what was already there [discontinuity], helping the reader to successfully navigate the transition...” (Runge 2010: 132). 206 On forward-pointing devices, generally, see Runge (2010: 59–177). On the HP see Runge (2010: 125–143). His distinction is part of his broader “processing hierarchy” (Runge 2010: 132): a discourse-pragmatic function always entails a processing function and a semantic function, even when they are redundant; likewise, a processing function always entails a semantic function, even when it is redundant. The justification for his hierarchy seems reasonable. 207 Levinsohn 2000: 202–206; Fanning 2011: 184. Levinsohn argues that, in addition, certain authors may also attract attention to participants or locations introduced at boundaries. In such cases the “cataphoric overtones may well be present” (Levinsohn 2000: 204). This occurs, he argues, in Mt, especially, and Lk, but not in Mk or Jn. 208 Still, might it be possible that, through common usage, the HP came to be understood as a forward-pointing device generally? If this is true, then in the case of a HP at a boundary the HP would highlight the already present thematic discontinuity as well as point forward to the new topic or episode that is about to unfold.

100

Chapter 2: Mark

directly associated with the HP. Fanning and Levinsohn disagree. 209 In examining Runge’s supporting examples of speech HPs, I have found they can be well and at times better understood as pointing forward to subsequent (groups of) events. 210 At any rate, in summary the three verb forms for main-

209

Fanning (2011: 184) writes: “[T]his cataphoric function for the HP is the best explanation even for these most difficult areas of HP usage in the NT... [e.g.] its use to introduce speech (either as a single utterance or in a series of conversational interactions)....” Levinsohn (2000: 200) concurs: “...what is highlighted by the HP is not so much the speech or act to which it refers but the event(s) that follow.” Note that for Levinsohn only nonspeech HPs can serve an additional function, besides cataphoric highlighting, at boundaries; see above n. 207. 210 Runge cites five speech HPs in Jn 14.5–6, 8–9, 22 to illustrate “how significant turns in a speech are signaled by use of the HP” (2010: 138–139 [138]). In contrast, I see them as collectively pointing forward, with building anticipation, to Jesus’ lengthy discourse (14.23–16.16), now related without the interaction of his disciples (they return in 16.17–18 and 29–30). This hortatory address is introduced with aorist indicative verbs (and a redundant quotative frame; cf. Runge [2010: 139, n. 48, and 145–162]). Possibly Jesus’ statement in Mk 14.30, introduced by a HP, is, as Runge (2010: 139) claims, “the climax of the conversation.” But the high point may be verse 31, in which two speeches, one direct and one indirect, are introduced by imperfects (ἐλάλει and ἔλεγον) of a fade-out usage. At any rate Jesus’ statement certainly has prominence – but this is due at least to it being a verbinitial sentence within a conversation (see below, n. 214), to the reference to Jesus with a full noun phrase (see n. 213) and to its content. It would be better to see the HP here as pointing forward to Peter’s and the others’ reply. Runge (2010: 140) notes that 17 HPs are “in Mark 14, the most in any single chapter of Mark.” Many of these, he would allow, “build the suspense that something significant is about to happen” (Runge 2010: 139–140). (See Section O on Longacre’s idea of a “zone of turbulence” around a peak in a narrative.) The speech HP of 14.32b joins the HPs in contiguous sentences (14.32a, 33a) in pointing forward to ἤρξατο in 14.33b, as Runge seems to indicate. Thus, the speech HP of 14.32b does not highlight the speech to which it refers. To my mind there is no reason, therefore, not to see the speech HP in 14.30 as pointing forward to Peter’s and the others’ response (on a microscopic level), while also keeping the reader/audience in suspense (on a macroscopic level) waiting for “something significant” to happen. In the same way I do not see the speech introduced by the final verb in a series of four contiguous HPs in Jn 20.1–2 as the event to which they are pointing. Rather the next sentence (ἐξῆλθεν) is the target, followed by two scene-setting sentences and then two mainline events (προέδραμεν and ἦλθεν), after which another series of HPs occurs (20.5–6) pointing, climactically, towards τότε οὖν εἰσῆλθεν... καὶ εἶδεν καὶ ἐπίστευσεν. Thus the point of the first HP-cluster is not Mary’s (mistaken) claim that Jesus’ body had been removed from the tomb, but that this claim got the two disciples moving on their way to examine the tomb for themselves – a physical movement that brings the unnamed disciple, climactically, into the tomb and leads to his belief (see further section 5.18, below). Runge cites, generally, the many speech HPs in Jn (especially ch. 3) and the few in Lk and Acts as “highlighting the speech that follows” (2010: 139, 141 [141]). I, too, must decline to discuss them here in detail.

Relative Priority of Elements

101

line events/actions with the default or a greater level of prominence are the aorist indicative, the HP and, at times, the imperfect. 211 In addition to the “vivid” imperfect and the HP, a number of devices highlight the main events/actions of sentences. Only a few can be addressed here. 212 They include the redundant use of a full noun phrase – especially for Jesus – and “anarthrous references to activated participants” (Levinsohn 2000: 197). 213 In contexts of reported conversation that is “closed” and “tightknit,” for a speech that is neither first nor last, a “speech orienter” beginning with a verb gives “greater status” to the speech (Levinsohn 2000: 219). 214 Table 1 (see below) shows the relative prominence of elements within a given response in the following ascending order: (–), (+), (FD), ( ), ( +). 215 A checkmark ( ) indicates a mainline event/action (default level of prominence). A checkmark and plus sign ( +) represent a highlighted mainline event. 216 The letters FD indicate a fade-out usage of the imperfect, a demoted event/action that belongs on the general line of sequential events. A plus sign

211

The mainline of a narrative can be carried in some cases by “grammatically subordinated elements,” such as participles and relative clauses, “but for the most part we should concentrate on main clauses” (Fanning 2011: 170). Perfect indicatives and pluperfects are, seldom, the verbs of the main clauses in the Gospels. 212 Other devices will be discussed, where relevant, in the analyses to follow. Demotion of events intersententially within dialogue is treated in Section M. See further Levinsohn (2000: 197–213) and Runge (2010: 59–177). 213 Note any nominal reference to Jesus, the global very important participant (VIP), in the nominative case – including a pronoun – after Mk 1.9, other than for disambiguation, has a discursive function (Levinsohn 2000: 142–147). It may highlight the respective sentence (within an episode) or a naturally occurring boundary (beginning of an episode). 214 A “closed,” “tight-knit” conversation has “the previous addressee becoming the new speaker and vice versa,” taking up “the same topic as that of the previous speech” (Levinsohn 2000: 215). Speeches that are neither initial or final are typically “intermediate steps,” often employing an articular pronoun (ἡ δέ / ὁ δέ) as a “speech orienter” (i.e. “the clause that introduces the actual speech”) (Levinsohn 2000: 216, 218–219); cf. also, below, p. 55. When orienters begin with a verb, the relevant speeches “are presented as foreground events in their own right” (Levinsohn 2000: 220). In either case, use of a full noun phrase highlights the speech (Levinsohn 2000: 140). 215 I have not noted redundant quotative frames here. This means that the verbal element is only marked once, even when two verbs are used to describe the relevant direct or indirect speech (e.g. 1.27; 2.12c). 216 Here I consider highlighting as a result of an HP only if the HP immediately precedes the response – i.e. the HP is the last mainline event prior to the relevant mainline event(s) in the response. The HPs under consideration, then, are in: Mk 5.15a–b; 5.19b; 6.48b; 16.4a, 6–7). There are no vivid imperfects in the portions of text in question.

102

Chapter 2: Mark

(+) indicates a similarly demoted event/action via a subordinated clause. 217 A minus sign (–) represents background material – whether a state-of-affairs, an incomplete event, supporting material etc. – or a substantive. The letter S refers to embedded speech. Though more could be said on levels of dependence within less prominent material, the distinctions outlined above should suffice here. I mention, in addition, only that half of the time when there is direct speech the verbal element employs a post-nuclear participle of εἰπεῖν. 218 Once the negation of an element is included (Mk 16.8; indicated by parentheses). 219 In absolute numbers the elements presented as mainline events are: reporting (7); movement (6); emotional (5); verbal (5); seeing (4); cognitive (1). In relative numbers, the reporting (7:8) and movement (6:11) elements are most often mainline events. The emotional element is less commonly a mainline event (5:16). Highlighted mainline events are: cognitive (1:1), verbal (2:5), reporting (3:7), emotional (2:5) and movement (2:6).

217 Note in later chapters a checkmark and a minus sign ( –) indicate an elaboration on a mainline event via a post-nuclear participial clause (when it does not receive more prominence than the indicative verb it follows). 218 λέγοντες/λέγοντας: Mk 1.27; 2.12c; 7.37. Others: 4.41b (ἔλεγον); 9.5 (λέγει); 11.21 (λέγει). 219 This is the only instance of its kind – the mention of a negated common element of responses. Mk 9.8 bears some similarity, in that it emphasises that neither the cloud nor Elijah and Moses were seen any longer. However, an important positive assertion remains: ...ἀλλὰ τὸν Ἰησοῦν μόνον μεθ᾿ ἑαυτῶν. Thus, it is noteworthy that the narrative, if 16.8 is indeed its original ending, has as its final main clause the one and only negated element of a miracle response.

103

Relative Priority of Elements

Table 1: Relative prominence of elements in responses

+

–, –, –

+, +

+, –

,–

(

,

+

+

–

,

)

+

220

+,

, FD

,

+

+

+

+, FD

Movement

16.8

–

–

+

–,

S

Reporting

16.5b–c

9.5–6

–

11.20b–21

7.36b–37

–

FD

10.52c

6.51c–52

9.8

6.49–50b

+, +

+

FD

–

Seeing

5.42d

5.33

FD

+

5.20

5.14–17

4.41

3.6

–

+

Verbal

2.12c

1.45

1.27–28 Emotional

+

–

+

–, –

+

Cognitive Falling FD

Conspiring

220

+

Other

Here the finite helping verb is followed by two related infinitives (ἤρξατο κηρύσσειν... καὶ διαφημίζειν).

104

Chapter 2: Mark

Responses with just one element (5.42d; 9.8; 10.52c) are bracketed from the analysis to follow. For responses that contain multiple instances of one or more elements, I use the most prominent instance(s) of each component to evaluate which is more/most prominent in a given collocation. Emotions tend to be as prominent as speech. 221 As there are so few instances (4–5 responses each) of the remaining collocations involving emotion, it is not possible to talk about tendencies. And for no collocation is the relative prominence consistent. Nevertheless, the following observations can be made: the emotional element is roughly as prominent as seeing 222 and cognition, 223 though less prominent than reporting 224 and movement. 225 Beyond specific collocations, there are few responses in which the emotional element is not relatively at least as prominent as the other element(s) (5:12 – Mk 5.20; 5.33; 6.49–50b; 9.5–6; 16.8). 226 It is prominent – though less than one might expect – among responses in the rescue nature miracle/epiphany stories. 227 Note, again, that stories in which the emotional element is not present occur only among healings and other nature miracles, with one exception (9.8). These observations offer some corroboration, then, for what was suggested in Section D: the emotional element is the most characteristic of the responses. The few responses containing other collocations also do not demonstrate consistent relations with respect to prominence. The verbal element is more

221

Emotions with greater prominence: Mk 1.27–28; 4.41. Verbal component with greater prominence: 5.33; 6.49–50b; 9.5–6. Equal level of prominence for both elements: 2.12c; 5.14–17; 7.36b–37. 222 Emotions with greater prominence: Mk 2.12c; 5.14–17. Visual sensation with greater prominence: 6.49–50b. Equal level of prominence for both elements: 16.5b–c. 223 Emotions with greater prominence: Mk 6.51c–52. Cognition with greater prominence: 6.49–50b. Equal level of prominence for both elements: 5.33; 9.5–6. 224 Reporting with greater prominence: Mk 5.20; 16.8. Equal level of prominence for both reporting and emotional components: 1.27–28; 5.14–17; 7.36b–37. 225 Movement with greater prominence: Mk 5.20; 5.33; 16.8. Emotion with greater prominence: 5.14–17. 226 Interestingly, the only response that relegates emotions to a participle is Mk 5.33. Elsewhere it is a/the principal verb in its clause: an indicative in an independent clause – even if the clause itself does not depict a mainline event, introduced with γάρ (6.51c; 9.6b; 16.8b,d) – or an infinitive in a dependent ὥστε clause (2.12c). 227 The transfiguration is the main exception, where the emotional element is background material (Mk 9.6b). In 4.41, on the one hand, and 16.5b–c and 16.8, on the other, the emotion (or one instance of it) is at least as prominent as the other elements (and the instances of the emotional element are as numerous as the others). The emotional element appears once in each of 6.49–50b and 6.51c–52, where it is, respectively, least and most prominent, though in neither case is it a mainline event.

Order of Appearance of Elements

105

prominent than seeing, 228 as is reporting than movement. 229 In all three instances of the triple collocation of emotional, cognitive and verbal elements, the last of these has or is among the components that receive the greatest level of prominence. 230 Relative prominence in the other triple collocations is even less consistent. More broadly speaking, no prototypical relative priority of elements exists, other than the fact that reporting is always at least as prominent as other components it occurs alongside. Rather, a surprising amount of variation can be seen. The seeing element, for example, appears: in embedded speech – λέγοντας ὅτι οὕτως οὐδέποτε εἴδομεν (Mk 2.12c) – as background (supporting) material – πάντες γὰρ αὐτὸν εἶδον καὶ ἐταράχθησαν (6.50) – as a demoted event – οἱ δὲ ἰδόντες... ἔδοξαν... καὶ ἀνέκραξαν (6.49) – as a mainline event highlighting a subsequent event – καὶ θεωροῦσιν... καὶ ἐφοβήθησαν (5.15) – and itself as a highlighted mainline event – καὶ εἰσελθοῦσαι... εἶδον... καὶ ἐξεθαμβήθησαν (16.5; following the HP in 16.4). It can be found also as a substantive: καὶ διηγήσαντο αὐτοῖς οἱ ἰδόντες (5.16). Still in 15 (or 16) of 18 responses at least one element is a mainline event or fade-out imperfect (2.12c; 7.36b–37; and, possibly 6.51c–52, excepted). 231 Questions to be addressed in later chapters naturally arise here. How are responses in the other gospels commonly portrayed? Do patterns exist as to the level of prominence of various elements? How is the emotional element, when present, portrayed?

G. Order of Appearance of Elements I will now analyse the order of appearance of elements in the responses to see whether any patterns emerge. Three responses, containing just one element, are bracketed from the present discussion (5.42d; 9.8; 10.52c [cf. 1.31c]). No overall trend exists for the order of appearance of elements in the responses (see Table 2, below). Still some specific tendencies can be seen. Notably, in five of six relevant responses (one instance of) movement comes in the initial position (1.45; 3.6; 5.14–17; 5.20; 16.8; the exception is 5.33). The (first instance of the) cognitive element comes second in four of five relevant responses. The instances are divided into two types: a positive state228 Verbal component more prominent: Mk 2.12c; 5.14–17; 6.49–50b. Equal prominence for seeing and speech: 11.20b–21. 229 Reporting more prominent: Mk 1.45; 5.14–17. Equal prominence for reporting and movement: 5.20; 16.8. 230 Mk 5.33; 6.49–50b; 9.5–6. 231 See above, n. 203.

106

Chapter 2: Mark

ment of cognitive activity, following sight (6.49a; 11.20b–21); a negated statement of cognitive activity in a sentence introduced by γάρ, following and explaining a prior action (6.51c–52a[–52b]; 9.5–6a). Closely related is the remaining response, in which a cognitive act follows two initial instances of the emotional element (5.33a). Ten of the 12 responses that are relevant have the emotional element (or one instance of it) in either the first (1.27–28; 2.12c; 4.41; 5.33; 6.51c–52) or last (5.20; 6.49–50b; 9.5–6; 16.5; 16.8 [third instance]) position. The exceptions are 5.14–17; 7.36b–37. 232 For three instances in which the emotion comes last, the context is supporting material introduced by γάρ: πάντες γὰρ αὐτὸν εἶδον καὶ ἐταράχθησαν (6.50); ἔκφοβοι γὰρ ἐγένοντο (9.6b); ἐφοβοῦντο γάρ (16.8). Likewise (one instance of) visual sensation always comes first (6.49–50b; 11.20b–21; 16.5b–c) or last (2.12c) in the five relevant responses, with one exception (5.15–17). 233 The one time seeing comes last it is found within direct speech. In six of the eight responses where both elements are present, the verbal one tends to follow the emotion, either immediately (direct speech in each case) – καὶ ἐθαμβήθησαν ἅπαντες ὥστε συζητεῖν πρὸς ἑαυτοὺς λέγοντας (1.27); ὥστε ἐξίστασθαι πάντας καὶ δοξάζειν τὸν θεὸν λέγοντας (2.12c); καὶ ἐφοβήθησαν φόβον μέγαν καὶ ἔλεγον πρὸς ἀλλήλους (4.41); καὶ ὑπερπερισσῶς ἐξεπλήσσοντο λέγοντες (7.37) – or with two other components in between – καὶ ἐφοβήθησαν... καὶ ἤρξαντο παρακαλεῖν αὐτὸν (5.15c–17); φοβηθεῖσα καὶ τρέμουσα... καὶ εἶπεν (5.33). 234 The exceptions are 6.49–50b (non-verbal scream) and 9.5–6 (direct speech), where the emotion follows the verbal element with another in between (visual sensation and an act of cognition, respectively). In both cases the emotion is in supportive material, introduced by γάρ (see above).

232 Just one of the 11 said responses contains only (one instance each of) two elements (Mk 4.41), so that talk of initial and final positions is not limited to mere binary possibilities. 233 Only one of the relevant responses (Mk 16.5b–c) has merely one instance each of two elements. So binary options are not primarily what is considered here. 234 A moderate pattern exists for this combination (cf. Dywer [1996: 95]; contra Tagawa [1966: 94–96]).

107

Order of Appearance of Elements

Table 2: Order of appearance of elements 235 1.27–28

emotion

verbal

report

1.45

move

report

report

2.12c

emotion

verbal

seeing

3.6

move

cons

4.41

emotion

verbal

move

report

move

report

seeing

verbal

5.20

move

report

emotion

5.33

emotion

emotion

5.42d

emotion

6.49–50b

seeing

6.51c–52

other

move

seeing

move

seeing

cognit

move

falling

verbal

cognit

verbal

seeing

emotion

emotion

cognit

cognit

7.36b–37

report

emotion

verbal

9.5–6

verbal

cognit

emotion

9.8

seeing

seeing

10.52c

move

11.20b–21

seeing

cognit

16.5b–c

seeing

emotion

16.8

move

move

emotion

report

emotion

5.14–17

235

verbal

emotion

emotion

Note, “move”=movement between locations; “fall”=falling/prostrating; “cognit”=cognitive; “cons”=conspiring.

108

Chapter 2: Mark

Movement (or one instance of it) precedes reporting in all four relevant responses. In three cases no other component intervenes (1.45a; 5.14a–b; 5.20a–b). Interestingly, considering also prominence, in three cases the/a instance of each of the two elements jointly constitute contiguous mainline events: ἔφυγον καὶ ἀπήγγειλαν (5.14a–b); ἀπῆλθεν καὶ ἤρξατο κηρύσσειν (5.20a–b); ἐξελθοῦσαι ἔφυγον... καὶ οὐδενὶ οὐδὲν εἶπαν (16.8a–c). The remaining response, in which the movement is represented by a pre-nuclear participle, is similar: ἐξελθὼν ἤρξατο κηρύσσειν πολλὰ καὶ διαφημίζειν τὸν λόγον (1.45a). In three of the four responses where seeing and emotion are components (one instance of) the former immediately precedes the latter: θεωροῦσιν... καὶ ἐφοβήθησαν (5.15b–c); πάντες γὰρ αὐτὸν εἶδον καὶ ἐταράχθησαν (6.50); εἶδον... καὶ ἐξεθαμβήθησαν (16.5b–c). In each case the two elements are represented by main verbs of sentences. In the response where the order is reversed (2.12c) speech intervenes between the two elements and the visual sensation is presented within speech. In three of four relevant responses movement precedes emotion (5.14–17; 5.20; 16.8; the exception is 5.33). Ordering of components is less consistent for the remaining collocations. 236 I note only that in three of four relevant responses at least one instance of seeing appears side-by-side with the verbal element (2.12c; 5.16–17; 6.49). 237 Something further should be said about the seeing element. In addition to the three instances of it coming first in a given response (noted above), in two cases, where the (or another) instance of it appears later in a response, it is first in a distinct sequence of events/elements. 238 Such a phenomenon occurs, then, in five of six responses where visual sensation is noted: θεωροῦσιν... καὶ ἐφοβήθησαν (5.15b–c); ἰδόντες... ἔδοξαν... καὶ ἀνέκραξαν (6.49); εἶδον καὶ ἐταράχθησαν (6.50); εἶδον... καὶ ἀναμνησθεὶς... λέγει... (11.20b–21); εἶδον... καὶ ἐξεθαμβήθησαν (16.5b–c).

236 I.e. seeing and verbal (also emotional, seeing and verbal); emotional and reporting (also emotional, verbal and reporting); emotional and cognition (also emotional, verbal and cognition). 237 The same three responses, containing the triple collocation of seeing, emotional and verbal elements, exhibit no pattern for the order of their appearance nor for the number of times each component occurs. In the remaining relevant response (Mk 11.20b–21) the cognitive element comes in between. In one response the three elements – and there is just one instance each – are the only components (2.12c). 238 It is the first of two elements in supportive material introduced by γάρ in Mk 6.50. It is effectively the first element (following verbs of motion) in the response of one character group (see below) in 5.15 when they, upon seeing, change roles from hearers to observers.

Characters Responding

109

In the last three instances the same lexeme and form are used (εἶδον). Notably in three instances, the second element is an emotion (fear or being troubled: 5.15b–c; 6.50; 16.5b–c); in two others the cognitive and verbal elements follow seeing in that order (6.49; 11.20b–21). Seeing is often (4 times) represented by a verb form (aorist indicative or historical present) that has an equal level of prominence as one subsequent element (which in 3 cases follows immediately). In the response where seeing is a participle subsequent components are again aorist indicatives. Combined these factors indicate a moderate level of a formal nature for responses containing visual sensation.

H. Characters Responding Which characters respond? I am here interested primarily in the question “who?” and in characterisation in only a limited way. At least 17 characters or distinct groups of characters 239 respond in miracle stories. 240 Notably the protagonist, Jesus, never responds. 241 Bracketing for a moment the Pharisees, 239 By “distinct groups of characters” I mean: the “Twelve”; Peter, James and John; Mary Magdalene, Mary of Jacob and Salome; Jairus and his wife; and the formerly deafmute’s companions (possibly, the man, too). While Peter and, to a lesser extent, James and John (see especially Mk 3.17; 10.35–41) are developed somewhat, independently, as characters, their appearance together (at times, with Andrew) suggests they function as a group as well (1.16–20, 29; 3.16–18; 5.37–40; 9.2–13; 13.3–37; 14.33–42). The grouping of Mary, Mary and Salome is secure enough (15.40–41;16.1–8), though Salome is not with the others when Jesus is buried (15.47). Jairus and his wife are unequally yoked as a character group. The latter (5.40–43) plays no independent role; yet the former has a significant independent role. 240 The crowd in the synagogue of Capernaum (Mk 1.27–28); the ex-leper (1.45a); a generic “crowd” (1.45c; 2.12c; possibly 7.37); the Pharisees (3.6); the disciples (4.41); the pig-herders (5.14a–b, 16); the Gadarene crowd (5.14c–15, 17); the man formerly possessed by Legion (5.20a); a generic Decapolis crowd (5.20b; probably 7.37); the woman healed of hemorrhaging (5.33); Jairus and his wife (5.42d); Peter, James and John (5.42d, probably; 9.5–6 [Peter is further specified]; 9.8); the Twelve (6.49–50b; 6.51c–62; cf., probably, 11.20b); companions of the formerly deaf-mute man (7.36b [the man himself is possibly to be included]); Bartimaeus (10.52c); Peter (11.20b–21 [the Twelve, probably, are also relevant]); and Mary Magdalene, “Mary of Jacob” and Salome (16.5b–c; 16.8). See also Peter’s mother-in-law (1.31c). For explanations of the use of “possibly” and “probably” see the relevant parts of Section Q. 241 Again, see discussion above of Jesus’ amazed reaction to a lack of faith in a miracle summary (Mk 6.6). The characters, other than Jesus, present in the eight miracle stories which lack responses are also to be noted. The disciples (3–4 instances): 6.32–44; 8.1–9; 9.14–29 – possibly present throughout 8.22–26. A crowd (3–5 instances): 6.32–44; 8.1–9; 9.14–29 – implied also in 1.9–11 and 3.1–6. John the Baptiser (1.9–11). Peter, Andrew James and John (1.29–31). The Pharisees (2.1–12). Eight characters who function in the

110

Chapter 2: Mark

who become Jesus’ avowed opponents, inasmuch as the data of responses to miracles are concerned the characters divide broadly into two groups along lines of relational proximity to Jesus – (a) non-followers and (b) followers – with room for blurred boundaries. By “followers” I mean those who accompany Jesus and/or successfully accomplish the missions he gives them. This rough division has heuristic value, though answers to the questions of which characters are and to what extent positively aligned with Jesus in the narrative overall are multi-faceted and resist simplification. 242 In the second group some characters have a continuing presence in the narrative: the “disciples” 243 – characters (or groups) listed hereafter are implicitly also a part of the disciples, when without an independent role – the Twelve; Peter, James and John; Peter. Mary Magdalene, Mary of Jacob and Salome’s specified presence in the narrative is much more limited, though, retrospectively, they are to be seen as having been among the disciples. For the analysis of miracle stories, these characters (character groups) are technically labeled “established followers” (i.e they become followers – whether narrated or not – before the episode in question). (Thus, here “disciples” always refers to a larger body [of unspecified quantity] of established followers.) 244 Others, Bartimaeus 245 and probably the man possessed by Legion, 246 become followers during the episode in question. 247 The followers, generally, while exhibiting both positive and negative traits in relation to Jesus, are the closest to him, since they have forsaken all to follow him – including the

role of suppliants and/or recipients of healing: Peter’s mother-in-law (1.29–31); a man healed of a withered hand (3.1–6); the Syrophoenician woman (7.24–30); her daughter; the blind man of Bethsaida (8.22–26); possibly, his companions; the formerly possessed boy (9.14–29); and his father. 242 See discussion in Section A. 243 Use of “disciples” excludes the times in which οἱ μαθηταί refers demonstrably to the Twelve. 244 The term οἱ μαθηταί is not always used in this way in Mk; sometimes it refers to the Twelve. 245 On Bartimaeus’ response (Mk 10.52c), literally following Jesus, pertaining to discipleship see above, n. 156. 246 Jesus sends this ex-demoniac on a mission, which he fulfills to a measure far beyond what is demanded from him. It seems likely that this Gentile character is portrayed as in some way akin to a disciple of Jesus. On the verb κηρύξαι in his response (Mk 5.20b) see Section Q. 247 It is unclear how to categorise Peter’s mother-in-law, if Mk 1.31c is taken as a response. Perhaps she, too, is portrayed as becoming a follower (cf. 15.41). Alternatively, the use of language “foreshadows” (Malbon 2000: 49) the discipleship of the women followers in ch. 15. If so, then this would be the one instance of a non-follower with a purely positive response, given the heuristic division proposed. See further references to scholarlship in n. 156, above.

Characters Responding

111

women, who stay nearby at his execution. 248 Despite abandoning Jesus, 249 in a way the Twelve still have the closest relation to him, since their restoration in the story world’s future is foretold. 250 Of the non-followers, most characters appear in only one episode: the (ex-) leper; the pig-herders; the Gadarene crowd; the woman healed of hemorrhaging; Jairus and his wife; companions of the (formerly) deaf-mute man (perhaps the man himself also responds). It is probable that the crowd in the synagogue of Capernaum is to be related to the generic crowd in Mk 1.27–18 and 2.12c and elsewhere in the Gospel. 251 It is probable that the crowd in 7.37 is related to the Decapolis crowd in 5.14–17. 252 A spectrum can be seen in terms of their relation to Jesus. On the extreme negative end are the pig-herders and the Gadarene crowd who reject Jesus. On the other end are suppliants, whose approaching Jesus expresses an amount of confidence in him: the leper, the woman healed of hemorrhaging, Jairus and the deaf-mute man’s companions. Yet their relation to Jesus is complex. Both the ex-leper 253 and the companions of the formerly deaf-mute man disobey Jesus’ instructions to them. Jairus’ faith seems, implicitly, to waiver (5.36). The healed woman also has a complex relation to Jesus. 254 Somewhere in between are the generic crowds which have some positive relation to Jesus, 255 but fail, in some sense worse

248 The negative character traits of the disciples are widely acknowledged (Tolbert 1989: 176–230; (Rhoads et al. 1999: 122–129). On their assisting and following Jesus, see Malbon (2000: 72–78, 88–94). 249 The desertion of Jesus is possibly implicitly true also of Bartimaeus (cf. Mk 14.50– 51). 250 On their predicted restoration and “anticipation of [their] faithfulness in suffering” see Tannehill (1979: 82–84). Moloney (2002: 352–354) includes the women in the context of failure and restoration; cf. Culpepper (2007: 588–589). 251 Note the combination of observers (the synagogue crowd) and hearers as respondents in Mk 1.27–28; see below. 252 In support of a Gentile setting for Mk 7.31–37 is, e.g., Moloney (2002: 149). Collins (2007: 369) offers an alternative view. 253 Note the contrast between the ex-leper’s failure to carry out the mission given him and the man formerly possessed by Legion exceeding fulfilment Jesus’ command to him. 254 On the one hand she has an inordinate amount of faith, believing that even touching the clothes of an unaware Jesus will achieve her healing. On the other hand she is unwilling, probably owing to social shame or even fear on account of her unclean state, to ask Jesus face-to-face for healing – in contrast the leper is unimpeded by his uncleanness to ask, falling on his knees, for a miracle (Mk 1.40). After being healed, fear of a reprimand accompanies her approach, falling before and speech to Jesus (5.33). 255 See Malbon (2000: 72–88) on the – various, I would add – crowds’ coming to Jesus, following, hearing, receiving miracles and amazement.

112

Chapter 2: Mark

than the Twelve do, 256 in their commitment to him. In Jerusalem the festal crowd – it should be understood as containing a Galilean contingent – that celebrates Jesus’ entry (11.8–10) is later responsible in part for his execution (15.11–15). The depiction of the range of relational proximity to Jesus shared by the various respondents fits into the pattern already seen as to miracle types and response elements. Categorically in rescue nature miracles and/or epiphanies established followers respond, there being often more than one response and the/a response often containing a larger number of elements, with fear / being troubled always appearing in (at least one of) the response(s). 257 All others (new followers, suppliants and crowds) respond in healing miracles. There is usually just one response and it has relatively fewer elements, often including amazement. This emotion belongs to the crowds (4 instances) – though once to suppliants with, probably, established followers. 258 Often only one character (group) responds: Mk 1.27–18; 2.12c; 3.6; 5.33; possibly 5.42d; 6.49–50b; 6.51c–52; 9.5–6 (though Peter acts individually); 9.8; 10.52c; (11.20b–21;) and 16.5; 16.8. Occasionally two characters (character groups) respond: 1.45; 5.14–17; 5.20; probably 5.42d; and 7.36b–c. When more than one character (group) responds, a crowd tends to be one of the characters (5.42d is the exception). Non-followers and followers tend not to be respondents in the same stories. 259 This tendency, again, reinforces the general pattern that has emerged, namely that the rescue nature miracle stories and/or epiphanies are distinguished from the other miracle stories, on account of a variety of features.

256

In another sense, the disciples’ failure is more abysmal, since more has been given to them – including the mystery of the kingdom of God and the experience of more powerful, private miracles – and more is to be expected of them. 257 Established followers respond also to a non-rescue nature miracle (Mk 11.20b–21) and, likely, a healing (5.42d). 258 Jairus and his wife with, likely, Peter, James and John (Mk 5.42d). New followers do not respond emotionally. 259 The man formerly possessed by Legion and the generic Decapolis crowd in Mk 5.20 are one exception, on which see below. Peter, James and John are probably respondents alongside Jairus and his wife in 5.42d. Other than this, the disciples might be considered a part of the larger body of respondents, though it does not seem likely, to some other healing miracles (1.27–28; 1.45c; 2.12c; 7.37). Still, if so, identifying them does not seem important to the narrator.

Functional Roles of Respondents

113

I. Functional Roles of Respondents Respondents play three functional roles which can be located along a cline of involvement in the miracle: recipients – receiving healing, salvation from danger, some other physical benefit (friends/relatives of the healed should be included here) or revelation – observers and those who, not originally present, hear reports. 260 This scheme also has a rough, general correspondence with the foregoing observations. First, only those with closer relational proximity to Jesus are recipients, never the crowds. 261 For the stories of rescue nature miracles and epiphanies established followers are recipients; for stories of healings and exorcisms, recipients (6 times), observers (4) and hearers (4) variously appear. The remaining nature miracle has established followers as observers. 262 As to the general correlation of functional roles and characters in miracle stories, there are few exceptions to the trends just noted. The disciples (at least Simon) are recipients once in a healing (Mk 1.29–31); 263 crowds twice in non-rescue nature miracles (6.35–46; 8.1–9). 264 Jesus is once the recipient in an epiphany (1.9–11).

260

For my purposes, an observer is a character (group) not directly engaged by the character performing a miracle or being disclosed in an epiphany. To clarify, one can conceive of an observer and non-recipient in an epiphany, whose presence on the scene is portrayed as unauthorised or unwanted, possibly occurring by happenstance. This is not the case for the transfiguration or the appearance of the young man (chapter 16). Here followers are recipients of revelation. 261 In an amazed reaction related to miracles (Mk 6.2) the crowd seems portrayed as observers. 262 I take Jesus to be the recipient in Mk 11.12–14, 20–25 (other than here he has this role only in 1.9–11). Recipients are by far the most common respondents (9 stories), whether alone (4.41; 5.33; 6.49–50b; 6.51c–52; 9.5–6; 9.8; 10.52c; 16.5b–c; 16.8 – note 4 of the 6 relevant stories are the rescue nature miracles / epiphanies – ; cf. 1.31c), accompanied by observers (5.42d), hearers (1.45; 7.36b–37) or both (5.14–17; 5.20). Observers are common enough (5 stories: 1.27–28; 2.12c; 5.14–17; 5.42d; 11.20b–21). Hearers (4 stories) appear in healing stories (1.27–28; 1.45; 5.20; 7.36b–37). Observers and hearers come together just once (1.27–28) – it is implied that news of the occurrence is passed along multiple times by word of mouth. 263 The term “disciples” is appropriate here, since all four that have been called so far are present. 264 Crowds are, not surprisingly, recipients in healing summaries. Stories with summaries: Mk 1.32–34; 3.7–12; 6.1–6a; 6.6b–13. Other summaries: 6.53–56.

114

Chapter 2: Mark

J. Setting The analysis of settings to follow – answering the question “in what geographical and social setting within the narrative world are the miracle stories situated?” – necessarily makes my examination of responses touch on the overall episode in each instance. The settings can be placed on a continuum in terms of spatial proximity to village- or city-centres. Responses to miracles take place (or begin): in synagogues (Mk 1.27–18; 3.6), in homes (2.12c, 5.42d; cf. 1.31c); in more broadly envisioned village or urban settings (5.20; possibly 5.33); on roads near cities (10.52c; 11.20b–21; possibly 5.33); in presumably relatively secluded out-door areas (1.45; 7.36b–37 – in both cases the response moves into an undefined, more public setting); in or around (a) tomb(s) (5.14–17; 16.5; 16.8); in (a) boat(s) on the “sea” (4.41; 6.49–50b; 6.51c–52); and on a high mountain (9.5–6; 9.8). A pattern emerges. The rescue nature miracles and epiphanies constitute four of the five instances on the seclusion end. And the three of these occurring in the first half of the narrative have settings that are overall arguably the farthest removed from civilisation. The settings of healings are, respectively, closer to it. This pattern holds true, generally, of the other miracle stories as well. 265 A related factor to consider is whether the scene is (portrayed as) public or private. This, too, corresponds to the general pattern noticed so far. In all rescue nature miracle stories and/or epiphanies the settings are private and the established followers alone are present. 266 It seems that the remaining story with established followers only is also private. 267 Three other stories have private settings (re. Mk 1.45; 5.42d; 7.36b–37; cf. 1.31c). Yet, in two of these the response of the recipient(s) takes the story from a private into a public setting (re. 1.45 and 7.36b–37). 268 Thus, all stories of healings, other than the

265 Other healings happen in houses (Mk 1.29–31; 7.24b–30) and outside a “village” (8.22–26) – see Marcus (2000–2009: 2:593) on the use of κώμη for Bethsaida. It is unclear where one exorcism takes place (9.14–29 – in a village?; cf. 8.27). The non-rescue nature miracles occur in “wilderness” locations in the Galilee and, probably, the Decapolis (6.35– 46; 8.1–9). Similarly, the remaining epiphany happens in the wilderness of Judea (1.9–11). 266 Regarding Mk 4.41, possibly the ἄλλα πλοῖα (4.36) contain characters other than followers – but see 4.10. 267 Perhaps in the story of the cursing of the fig tree (re. Mk 11.20b–21) the body of disciples might be conceived of as large. This may be a reason to consider it more public. But the general portrayal of Jesus’ relationship to the “disciples” throughout Mk suggests otherwise. In the four remaining stories the number of followers is clearly limited. 268 It is not clear who the αὐτοῖς (plural) are in Mk 7.36b. It might be assumed that at least one of those envisaged is the recipient. At any rate, this individual’s companions are also recipients of the miracle; see below for definition.

Focalisation

115

resurrection story (re. 5.42d), are situated in or come into a public setting. 269 The miracle stories without responses do not show evidence of a pattern. 270 The following is a summary of foregoing observations on number of responses, elements in a given response, characters responding, their functional roles and settings. The statements are generalisations. In rescue nature miracle and epiphany stories, established followers as recipients in a private setting, far from urban centres, have responses (often more than one in a story) of numerous elements, including fear especially. In healing and exorcism stories new followers and/or non-followers (as recipients, observers or hearers) respond, frequently in a (private to) public setting, the one response having fewer elements, often including amazement. Also, only the latter story types have: more than one character (group) respond, involving notably the crowd; and responses including (successful) reporting.

K. Focalisation My consideration of focalisation again brings into the analysis the entirety of each episode, not just the response. Fixed external focalisation (narratorfocaliser) is the norm. Four of the five miracle stories with responses that have some alternate form of focalisation are the rescue nature miracles and/or epiphanies. Two stories have (close to) fixed character-focalisation (Mk 4.35–41 and 16.1–8). 271 Two (6.47–52 and 9.2–8) have variable focalisation 269 Mk 1.27–28; 1.45; 2.12c; 5.14–17; 5.20; 5.33; 7.36b–37; 10.52c. Mk 1.31c requires comment. Because of the interconnectedness of the four pericopes in 1.21–38 (see Section Q) and, especially, the fact that a crowd gathers at the house in which the private healing occurs, it is likely that knowledge of this miracle is to be understood, implicitly, as moving from a private to a public setting. Note crowds are often (one of) the respondents to miracles that occur in or come into a public setting (the three exceptions are 3.6; 5.33; 10.52c). 270 The theophany at Jesus’ baptism (Mk 1.9–11) is essentially private, though in a more restricted sense, as only Jesus seems to have sensory awareness of it. Private, also, is the exorcism story pertaining to the Syrophoenician woman (7.24–30). Jesus’ command not to “enter the village” implies a private setting for the story of the blind man of Bethsaida (8.22–26). The exorcism of the possessed boy (9.14–27) is, awkwardly, portrayed as semiprivate. The two mass feeding stories are, of course, public (6.32–44; 8.1–9). 271 Mk 4.35–41, perhaps, requires more discussion. In the opening sentence (4.35) Jesus is the subject and the disciples objects (here and after mainline events are discussed, unless otherwise specified). In three of the next seven sentences (4.36–38), however, the disciples are the subjects and Jesus the object (4.36a; 4.38b–c). In the one sentence in which Jesus is the subject he is asleep (background information; 4.38a). The other sentences relate the onset of the storm (4.37a) and give demoted/background information (4.36b, 37b). In three of the next five sentences (4.39–40) Jesus is active (3 speech verbs). The disciples are addressees once, in Jesus’ statement expressing his ideological perspective. In the other

116

Chapter 2: Mark

through the narrator and/or one or more characters (character groups). 272 In three, possibly all four, stories established followers are focalisers (Mk 6.49– 52 may be focalised through the Twelve). In one instance Jesus is a characterfocaliser (6.45–48). In three instances Jesus is one of the focalised objects (in addition are the storm [4.39c–d]; the Twelve [6.48]; the cloud and voice [9.7]). In one instance a large stone and a young man are the focalised objects (16.4, 5–7).

two sentences the wind ceases and calm begins. The final two sentences comprise the response (4.41). The disciples become afraid and they question one another about Jesus (fade-out imperfect). This attention to their psychological and ideological perspectives confirms, finally, that they are the focalisers in the story. In 16.1–8 the three women are the only active characters, with the one-sentence exception of the young man’s long(-ish) speech (16.6–7). Even this, though, highlights what follows (use of HP). In 10 sentences (16.1–4a, 5, 8; three give offline information) the women are the subjects (or equivalent: εἶχεν γὰρ αὐτὰς... [16.8b]). Only the background sentence about the stone (16.4b) does not contain the women as subjects or addressees. The rolled-away stone is introduced, literarily, through their field of vision (16.4a; especially poignant in light of the proleptic question in 16.3) as is their interlocutor (16.5b). Their thought is accessed early (16.3 [offline material]; note thought can often be represented as “speech”, especially that is aimed at “oneself,” in this and similar texts; cf. Alter [1981: 67–69]) and their emotions repeatedly throughout (16.5c, 8b,d [the last two are background material]). 272 Mk 6.47–52, closely connected to the foregoing story, is focalised initially through Jesus (6.47–48). After two introductory sentences (background material), in the first event his disciples, presumably the Twelve (see 6.7–13, 30–32 [especially ἐν τῷ πλοίῳ]; cf. 4.33–36), are seen through his field of vision (6.48a). Then his thoughts/intentions are accessed (6.48b). It seems best to understand the narrator as the focaliser in the 11 sentences of 6.49–52, despite the access to the field of vision (6.49, 6.50a [background material]), emotions (6.50b, 51c) and cognitive processes (6.52a–b) being restricted to that of the Twelve. Though more research is needed on focalisation in Hellenistic Greek, I offer the following observations. The text allocated to the Twelve’s actions, visual perception, emotions and thoughts is not extensive – note in three sentences Jesus is the subject (6.50c–51a); in one the wind is (6.51b) – and the relevant sentences are given less prominence relative to others (on which see below, n. 472). Alternatively, the Twelve are the focaliser. Mk 9.2–8 begins commonly enough, with a narrator-focaliser and Jesus focalised. Focalisation through the three disciples begins in 9.4a (ὤφθη αὐτοῖς; and Jesus is an object already in 9.4b), though one of them (Peter) is active first in 9.5 (mainline event). (Preparation for the change in focalisation may be seen already, perhaps, in 9.2 [ἔμπροσθεν αὐτῶν)].) The emotions of the three in 9.5 (ἔκφοβοι γὰρ ἐγένοντο) are important but not decisive. Jesus (Elijah and Moses too), in all probability, is entirely out of view in 9.7, as the cloud envelops the three disciples (ἐπισκιάζουσα αὐτοῖς; the reference is to the disciples, who were the subject in 9.6b) and the voice speaks to them about Jesus. Focalisation, is only fully achieved in 9.8 (καὶ ἐξάπινα περιβλεψάμενοι οὐκέτι οὐδένα εἶδον ἀλλὰ τὸν Ἰησοῦν μόνον μεθ᾿ ἑαυτῶν), when the audience is brought to see the entire episode from their perspective.

Location within a Miracle Story

117

The other miracle story (5.25–34) to have character-focalisation (5.25–29) is of a healing. After focalisation through the woman healed of hemorrhaging, the narrator returns as focaliser. 273 Further comments on focalisation in the five stories mentioned will be given in Section Q, below. What is important to note here is the clear association between a deviation from the normal form of focalisation and stories of epiphany and rescue nature miracles. Making this observation adds to the already weighty constellation of literary features that distinguish these four stories from the remaining miracle stories.

L. Location within a Miracle Story A response comes almost always immediately or shortly after the narration of the miracle. In 10 stories and for 12 miracles it follows immediately after the/a miracle. 274 In these instances the initial sentence/clause in the response is most often a mainline event/action. 275 In three cases words from Jesus intervene: a command not to tell anyone (1.43–44; 276 7.36a–b); questioning about fear and lack of faith (4.40). 277 A more complex series of occurrences (5.29b–32), involving especially a search for the healed individual, intervenes in one story. 278 Second responses to a miracle follow the interaction between Jesus/the young man and the recipient(s) (5.20; 16.8). 279 A response is virtually always the final part of a miracle story. In 11 stories the/a response comes at the close of the pericope, though it should be 273 In the story’s lengthy opening sentence (Mk 5.25–27) the woman is the subject. She is the only active character here and in the next sentences (5.25–29). Her sense of hearing is accessed (5.27). Her suffering – potentially social, psychological and emotional in addition to physical – and thoughts are penetrated (5.26, 28, 29b). Focalisation switches to a narrator-focaliser once Jesus’ thoughts, too, are accessed (5.30). 274 Mk 1.27–28; 2.12c; 3.6; 5.14–17; 5.42d; 6.49–50b; 6.51c–52; 9.5–6; 9.8; 10.52c; 11.20b–21 (though the miracle itself is not narrated); 16.5b–c; cf. 1.31c. In both cases where there are two miracles, a response follows immediately after each miracle. Thus 12 of the 15 miracles in these stories have responses so situated. 275 In eight responses: Mk 1.27; 5.14a; 5.42d; 6.49a; 9.5; 9.8; 11.20b; 16.5b–c. Two or three times it is a sequential event/action via a fade-out imperfect (3.6; 10.52c – related is 6.51c; cf. 1.31c). Once it is a result clause (2.12c). 276 In Mk 1.43–44 Jesus tells the leper also to show himself to a priest and make the appropriate offering. 277 The number of sentences that intervene are: one (Mk 4.40); one and a half (7.36a–b); two (1.43–44). There are two instances of brief, direct discourse (1.44; 4.40) and one of indirect discourse (7.36a–b). 278 Four sentences intervene. The woman’s recognition of the miracle’s occurrence is stated (Mk 5.29b). 279 Mk 5.28–19 (3 sentences) and 16.6–7 (1 sentence).

118

Chapter 2: Mark

remembered that the ending of Mark is uncertain. 280 In these instances the type of the final sentence/clause in the response varies: a mainline event/action (Mk 1.28; 9.8); a sequential event/action via a fade-out imperfect (1.45c; 3.6; 4.41b; 5.20c; 10.52c; cf. 1.31c); a result clause (2.12c); a supportive statement with γάρ (6.52b; 16.8d); or general background material (7.37). In addition, note that direct speech in the response closes three stories (2.12c; 4.41b; 7.37). Once Jesus’ comment (5.34) on the recipient’s faith closes the story (1 sentence follows the response). Once a response is followed by two sentences: Jesus commands those present not to tell anyone and to feed the resurrected girl (5.43). In one instance significantly divergent from the others, a response comes prior to a discussion about faith and prayer (11.22–25).

M. Connectives Introducing Responses In this section I consider to what extent connectives might help to demarcate the responses. Connectives 281 are ubiquitous in Hellenistic Greek. 282 Users of this language took particular interest in specifying how one sentence relates to another. Which connective introduces each response? In order to appreciate the significance of this question, it is necessary to offer a brief overview of the research on connectives. Levinsohn (2011: 1, emphasis original) states that “a connective guides or constrains the reader as to how to relate what follows to the context. Each connective places a different constraint...”; and one “cannot tell the size of the unit being linked from the connective itself.” 283 The most common connectives are καί and δέ. The constraint on καί, the “default” connective (Levinsohn 2000: 71), is continuity: two clauses are constrained “to be closely related to one another” (Runge 2010: 24). 284 δέ 280

Mk 1.27–28; 1.45; 2.12c; 3.6; 4.41; 5.20; 6.51c; 7.36b–37; 9.8; 10.52c; 16.8. On the complexity of 1.45 see above, n. 95. On the issue of the narrative’s ending see Section Q. 281 Connectives are not only conjunctions, but also particles, adverbs (τότε), phrases (διὰ τοῦτο) etc., which join clauses. 282 In English, by way of contrast, asyndeton (no connective between sentences) is often the norm. 283 Levinsohn is summarising the work of Anne Reboul and Jacques Moeschler. Traditionally, grammarians have not identified the different functions of connectives, but have attempted to find the best translation into a target language (Runge 2010: 18–19; Titrud 1992: 240). The majority of contemporary scholars working on connectives in Hellenistic Greek take the notion of different constraints as foundational. An exception is Porter and O’Donnell (2007). 284 Cf. Titrud 1992.

Connectives Introducing Responses

119

constrains what follows to be processed as distinct, marking significant change. 285 (Note, neither δέ nor καί have constraints of semantic continuity or discontinuity. Contrary to a common misperception, δέ does not equal English “but” or German “aber” etc.) 286 In narrative contexts, both can introduce foreground and (καί less often) background material. In terms of foreground, 287 δέ marks development: it represents “a new step or development in the author’s story or argument” (Levinsohn 2000: 72, emphasis original). 288 Levinsohn notes three levels of usage. A “high-level usage” indicates “the episode as a whole represents a new development in the story” (Levinsohn 2000: 75). A “low-level” usage marks development within an episode. This is perhaps the most common. A “third level” occurs within “closed,” “tightknit” conversations. 289 For non-initial speeches, placing δέ and an articular pronoun (e.g. ἡ δέ) at the beginning of a “speech orienter” is the default means to present speeches as “simply intermediate steps en route to the goal of the conversation,” i.e. demoted events (Levinsohn 2000: 218, emphasis original). 290 Levinsohn (2000: 218, 219–220) argues that sometimes, by this usage, an action that responds to speech may be portrayed as such an “intermediate step.” 291 An articular pronoun (or full noun phrase) and δέ as the orienter of a final speech can indicate that the speech’s goal is not attained. 292 285 Levinsohn 2011: 2, n. 13. His position has recently changed, owing, it seems, to his interaction with others. Cf. earlier Levinsohn (2000: 76, n. 4; 82), referring to Buth (1992); cf. also Black (2002: 142–178). 286 Any adversative sense for a clause introduced with δέ – or καί for that matter – is derived from the clause’s contents, not from the connective (Runge 2010: 23–36). 287 On background see Levinsohn (2000: 90–91). 288 One of the benefits (and joys) of examining Greek cross-linguistically is noting its similarities with other languages: in the case the relation of δέ to a similar feature in Inga (Quechuan) (Levinsohn 2000: 76, n. 8). 289 On “third level” see Levinsohn (2000: 76, n. 3). On the other terms here see n. 214, above. 290 Note “the articular pronoun is used almost exclusively to refer to the addressee of the last speech” (Levinsohn 2000: 136). Any speech whose orienter is a reference to the speaker is an intermediate step, regardless of the connective. As noted previously, use of a full noun phrase highlights the speech. On the notion of demoted events, see above, Section F, II. 291 Levinsohn cites Lk 1.29 as a typical example. Jn 6.20 “is an interesting example, in that Jesus was not even the addressee of a previous speech but, rather, responds to their becoming afraid (v. 19b)” (Levinsohn 2000: 220). 292 Alternatively, it may indicate that the final speech itself is “but an intermediate step en route to a goal,” which can be achieved by an action, provided the action can be understood as resulting from the conversation (Levinsohn 2000: 225; cf. 220, 223–224). The said claims hold true primarily for Lk, Acts and Jn, which Levinsohn has examined in detail, though not always for Mt (Levinsohn 2000: 225). (Levinsohn says nothing of Mk.) The final speech is presented as having attained its goal if its orienter is a verb.

120

Chapter 2: Mark

Thus, the “third level” usage does not mark the same sort of development as in the other two levels. 293 A few other connectives should be addressed. οὖν constrains material to be interpreted as both distinct and in continuity with what precedes. 294 Context brings out the nature of the continuity: resumptive (“a return to the storyline”) or inferential (introducing “an event in logical sequence”) (Levinsohn 2000: 85–86, emphasis original). 295 ὥστε constrains what follows to be processed as both a logical inference and “a result – actual, natural, conceived, intended.” 296 The mood of the verb that follows ὥστε may be indicative or infinitive: infinitives have more of an elaborating function, like post-nuclear participles, while indicative verbs are able to stand on their own. γάρ is marked for both continuity and strengthening/support of what precedes (Runge 2010: 51–54). 297 Thus, in narrative contexts it always introduces background material. 298 Not surprisingly, given Mark’s general fondness for καί, most responses are introduced with it (13 of 18). 299 Once ὥστε introduces a response (2.12c). 300 δέ introduces responses in third-level usage (1.45; 6.49–50b – articular pronoun in each case) 301 and when switching to background material

293 Though Levinsohn does not say so explicitly, use of δέ in speeches seems to have a cataphoric sense. He states, “...what is important is not so much the individual speeches themselves, but rather the result of the conversation, which may be expressed either in the final speech or in an action that occurs in response to the conversation” (Levinsohn 2000: 218). 294 Cf. Runge 2010: 43–47; Levinsohn 2000: 81–82, 85–90; Buth 1992. 295 Note Levinsohn (2011: 2; emphasis original) later, in addressing non-narrative contexts, says simply that οὖν is “characterised as +Inferential +Distinctive.” 296 Levinsohn (2011: 7), citing Porter (1992: 234). I am not aware of any publications addressing discourse analysis which examine ὥστε in narrative. 297 Levinsohn (2000: 69, emphasis original) clarifies, “The nature of that strengthening, viz., explanation versus inference or cause, is deduced from the content of the material, not from... γάρ.” 298 Cf. Levinsohn 2000: 91–92. 299 Mk 1.27–28; 3.6; 4.41; 5.14–17; 5.20; 5.42d; 6.51c–52; 9.5–6; 9.8; 10.52c; 11.20b– 21; 16.5b–c; 16.8; cf. 1.31c. 300 Cf. a reaction of amazement to Jesus’ silence: ὥστε θαυμάζειν τὸν Πιλᾶτον (Mk 15.5); cf. Dwyer (1996: 100). 301 ὁ δὲ ἐξελθὼν ἤρξατο κηρύσσειν πολλὰ καὶ διαφημίζειν τὸν λόγον... (Mk 1.45a) is a reaction to Jesus’ speech (1.44), outside of / following the conversation, stated as an intermediate step en route to the next and final event of the response (and the pericope): καὶ ἤρχοντο πρὸς αὐτὸν πάντοθεν (a fade-out imperfect). On “acts that are an intermediate step towards a goal” see Levinsohn (2000: 220). οἱ δὲ ἰδόντες... ἔδοξαν... καὶ ἀνέκραξαν (6.49) is portrayed as a verbal (vocal) reply to Jesus’ act of walking on the water in a kind of conversation. See above, n. 291, on a similar phenomenon in Jn 6.20.

Sub-Unit Divisions

121

(7.36b–37). 302 Just once (5.33), interestingly, a response is portrayed as a development (low-level use of δέ). Yet, some caution must be exercised. In all probability Semitic source materials are interfering with natural Greek usage in Mark when it comes to δέ. 303 Thus, it may be that in certain, even many, cases “development” occurs in the narrative for the author, 304 regardless of the fact that καί is employed and not δέ. 305 Still, the conclusions drawn above are important. Later chapters will investigate to what extent responses in the other gospels are introduced by something other than the default connective.

N. Sub-Unit Divisions Another relevant question is whether the responses – or other parts of an episode – constitute a distinct unit. One such unit is a paragraph. Levinsohn defines a paragraph as “a semantic or pragmatic unit characterized by having a single theme, not by the presence of certain surface features” (2000: 271). When “the primary genre of the book is narrative, many sections naturally subdivide on the ground of changes of temporal setting” (Levinsohn 2000: 274; emphasis original). 306 Changes in cast are also a common type of thematic change, changes of location less so. 307 Levinsohn states that “surface features,” nevertheless, often accompany a change of theme. Most of all, he sees a (sentence-initial) frame of reference, especially in narratives, as “supporting evidence for the boundaries,” since “it signals some sort of discontinuity and indicates the primary basis for relating what follows to the context”

302 Note in both Mk 1.39–45 and 7.31–37 the only δέ in the episode introduces the response (1.45a; 7.36b), which closes the episode. Furthermore, the responses are similar in nature: refusal to listen to Jesus’ warning not to report, followed by further responses of listeners. Still δέ is used in both cases in ways other than the low-level use. 303 Levinsohn (2000: 80) seems to agree with Buth, whom he cites, on this point. It has long been noticed δέ is sparse in Mk in light of the other gospels and, moreover, nontranslation Hellenistic Greek narratives, generally. 304 “Author” is used, according to convention in discourse analysis. 305 Levinsohn, referring to personal conversation with Buth, affirms Buth’s observation that “the threshold at which Mark perceives distinctiveness is much higher than in the other Synoptics and Acts” (Levinsohn 2000: 80, emphasis original). This means, practically, that only relatively major developments in the discourse get marked. 306 “When a temporal expression is not initial, this consistently indicates that the basis for relating to the context is not temporal...” (Levinsohn 2000: 276). 307 Levinsohn (Levinsohn 2000): 277) states: “...whereas changes of location may coincide with the presence of a boundary, such changes should not normally be cited as supporting evidence independent of changes of cast or time.”

122

Chapter 2: Mark

(Levinsohn 2000: 271–276 [271, 275]; emphasis original). 308 Even a simple redundant noun clause as a frame of reference can provide supporting evidence, though some caution is required. 309 Surface features other than frames of reference, too, can potentially provide support, including use of the HP. 310 Connectives, such as δέ, are another case in point. 311 I find that few of the episodes under consideration – only three or five (Mk 5.1–20; 5.21–43; 312 7.31–37; and, probably, 2.1–12 and 10.46–52) – are broken into sub-units or paragraphs. Sub-divisions range in number from two to three, though the one complex of healing stories in Mk 5 jointly comprises six sub-units. One should note that, besides the healing complex, the two stories containing two miracles each (6.47–52 and 9.2–8) have no subdivision. In the miracle stories under consideration, a sub-unit is usually formed by a change of cast. In Mark 5.1–20 the sub-units are: (a) 5.1–13 (Jesus and the possessed man/unclean spirits); (b) 5.14–17 (i.e. the first response: the pig herders, others from the vicinity and Jesus); (c) 5.18–20 (the formerly possessed man and Jesus). Mark 5.21–43 is subdivided thus: (a) 5.21–24 (Jesus and Jairus); (b) 5.25–29 (woman touches Jesus); (c) 5.30–32 (Jesus and disciples); (d) 5.33–34 (woman and Jesus); (e) 5.35–40a (Jesus, Jairus, three followers and mourners); (f) 5.40b–43 (Jesus, girl, three followers and par-

308

Recall that a frame of reference is a “point of departure” in his parlance. See Levinsohn (2000: 278; cf. 143) on highlighting vs. boundary marking functions of redundant noun phrases. Heavy encoding that coincides with other switches likely helps mark a boundary. But in a context of high continuity a redundant noun phrase serves to highlight. Runge (private communication) sees the issue not as an either/or dichotomy, but instead as a hierarchical relationship of entailment. The highlighting, a discoursepragmatic function, entails the processing function (discontinuity marker) of the redundant information. This processing hierarchy is discussed by Runge (2010: 132–133) in relation to the HP. 310 See Levinsohn (2000: 272–273, 275–281) on this and other potentially supporting features. 311 Levinsohn (2000: 275) states: “The conjunctions δέ and τότε and asyndeton often occur at paragraph and section boundaries, whereas καί and τέ are less frequently found at such boundaries;” still, “it is common in the Synoptic Gospels and Acts for καί to introduce episodes that do not build directly on the last episode, so the presence of καί in no way excludes a paragraph break.” Note that developments, marked by δέ, do “break the discourse into smaller chunks”; the “chunking,” though, is according to whether, in the view of the author, the discourse has taken a step forward (Runge 2010: 28). Levinsohn (2000: 72–73) discusses Mt 1.18–25, an example in which a number of developments happen within contiguous sentences in a paragraph. 312 For the purposes of this section, I consider the miracles stories in Mk 5.21–43 jointly. 309

Sub-Unit Divisions

123

ents). 313 Mark 7.31–37 divides along the following lines: (a) 7.31–36a (Jesus, impaired man and companions); (b) 7.36b–37 (i.e. the response: companions [and healed man?] and public). Of the two other stories Mark 10.46–52 also shows this tendency. 314 Twice a development marker (low-level use of δέ) corresponds to a paragraph boundary. 315 In only two cases a sub-unit division corresponds to a response (5.14–17; 7.36b–37). 316 A development unit is a pair or series of mainline events (i.e. in succession, joined by καί) that collectively constitutes a development (the first sentence is introduced with, typically, δέ). The one response that begins with δέ marking a development does not constitute a development unit. 317

313 The division of the final two sub-sections requires some explanation. αὐτὸς δέ in Mk 5.40b might be understood as a speech orienter: an indicator of on-going or unresolved interaction (highlighted, owing to the full noun phrase) with those who are ridiculing him. Yet Jesus’ reaction to the mourners is demoted (aorist participle) to his interaction with the parents of the deceased and his disciples. Moreover, there is thematic discontinuity – a change of cast, the removal of the mockers (followed in 5.40c by a change of scene). Thus, I take the fronted αὐτός to be supporting linguistic marking of the sub-unit division established on thematic grounds. 314 Mk 10.46–52 may be sub-divided thus: (a) 10.46–49 (Bartimaeus calls to Jesus, but interacts with crowd; Jesus, too, interacts with crowd); (b) 50–52 (Bartimaeus and Jesus interact directly). Yet 10.50 begins with an articular pronoun, an indicator of on-going interaction – here a reaction to the crowd’s speech, even though it is to approach and begin dialogue with Jesus. Mk 2.1–12 may be sub-divided thus: (a) 2.1–5 (Jesus interacts with paralyzed man / topic is forgiveness of sins); (b) 2.6–12 (Jesus interacts with opponents / topic now includes healing). Yet 2.6–7 gives background material. And Jesus’ interaction with the opponents is brief (2.8–10a), while the story, including Jesus’ speech, returns to the man who gets healed. Thus the entire episode may be construed as one sub-unit. 315 In Mk 5.33 the story develops at a paragraph boundary (5.33–34), as the healed woman determines to tell Jesus what has transpired. The final sub-section (5.40b–43) also begins with a development, as Jesus removes all undesired persons from the premises and selects some to be with him. Note in 5.36 Jesus urges Jairus not to fear but to have faith, despite the horrible news. This development follows a new sub-section’s beginning. Many stories do not contain δέ – i.e. 1.21–28; 4.35–41; 9.2–8; 11.12–14, 20–25). In fact, only in the 3 cases just mentioned (all in one complex of miracles) is a low-level usage of δέ seen in a miracle story with a response. The instances of third level usage are: 1.45a; 3.4; 5.34; 6.49a, 50b; 10.48b, 50a, 51b; 16.6 – not all are in closed tight-knit conversations; cf. above, n. 301. δέ introduces background material in 2.6; 5.11; 7.36b; cf. 1.30. In 2.10 δέ is in embedded speech. 316 Cf. also Mk 5.33, though the conclusion, Jesus’ pronouncement (5.34), is part of this sub-unit. 317 Still, Mk 5.33 is similar to a development unit. Three mainline events, linked by καί, are introduced with δέ, and constitute the majority of an event cluster (Jesus’ reply 5.34 [where a third-level use of δέ occurs] also belongs to it).

124

Chapter 2: Mark

O. Peak of Story and Relative Prominence of Responses The relative prominence of the one or more responses within a given story should also be considered. It would stand to reason that the miracle might constitute the peak in a given miracle story. 318 But this is not always the case. In some miracle stories, the miracle is itself not related. 319 In other cases, analysis of the discourse indicates that the action/event with the greatest prominence is elsewhere. Still, in many cases, the culmination of the episode is or includes the miracle. 320 Before examining the relative prominence of responses, a few observations on indicators of prominence in narrative texts are to be made, in addition to those made in Section F, above. The event of greatest intensity or interest, the peak, 321 is typically “more extensively marked” than other significant moments in a narrative, such as an “inciting incident” or a “complication” (Levinsohn 2012: 79). The way that the culminating event or events are marked can vary. The sentence(s) constituting the peak may itself (themselves) be unmarked, while preceding material gives it (them) prominence. Use of the HP (as noted above) highlights subsequent material. A similar effect is achieved by “introducing non-event (background) information immediately before” the peak (Levinsohn 2012: 79). When the peak itself is marked, a variety of features may be employed: “heavy participant encoding” (i.e. use of “redundant” noun phrases), “backgrounding of the event that immediately precedes the climactic event,” “tail-head linkage instead of the default means of conjoining” etc. (Levinsohn 2012: 79, 80). In Mark the phrase καὶ εὐθύς seems also to serve a highlighting function. Of course there may be a combination of elements, both prior to and within the culminating sentence which indicates its prominence. In addition, there is reason to consider couplets of events, though the coupling is not marked by such discourse features as mentioned above, but rather only by a semantic correlation. Given an equal amount of marking for prominence, it may be reasonable to see that a couplet 318 Thus Barnard (2006: 8, 9), looking at “miracle stories... in contrast to pronouncements,” bases his study on the assumption that in the former “the miraculous act of Jesus and the climax of the discourse are one.” 319 The two main examples in Mk are 7.24–30 and 11.12–14, 20–25. See also 6.41 (ἐδίδου... ἐμέρισεν) and 8.6–7 (ἐδίδου... εἶπεν), where the miraculous multiplications of bread and fish are themselves not actually narrated. Jesus’ resurrection, of course, is described (16.6) but not narrated. 320 This is true of nine stories with responses (re. 1.27–28; 2.12c; 3.6; 4.41; 5.42d; 6.49– 50b and 6.51c–52; 7.36b–37; 9.5–6 and 9.8; 10.52c; cf. 1.31a–b). See discussion in following notes. 321 For the sake of clarity, I have chosen to reserve “climax” for the narrative’s overall culminating moment.

Peak of Story and Relative Prominence of Responses

125

of, for example, a command and compliance to it is jointly the peak of an episode (e.g. 4.39a–d). 322 Clusters of HPs require comment. Repeated use of the HP “has the effect of building to a dramatic peak...” within an episode (Runge 2010: 141). 323 This occurs commonly in Mark. Moreover – and this will be important below (Section Q) – generous employment of HPs in episodes tend to give global prominence to these episodes. This is a natural consequence of the clustering of discourse features. 324 The climax of a narrative may be marked by repeated HP use. In five, perhaps seven cases a response or part of one is the story’s culmination or is found within it. The response of the woman healed of hemorrhaging (5.33) and Jesus’ reply to her words are jointly the zenith in one story. 325 The final mainline event (flight) in the second response to the narrative’s closing angelophany (Mk 16.8a) constitutes the episode’s peak. 326 In another epiphany story, the one event that is the second response (9.8) is part of three sentences constituting the highpoint (9.7–8; i.e. the cloud’s appearance, the heavenly voice’s speech and the disciples’ response). 327 A culminating sentence in the story of the paralytic’s healing (2.12b–c) describes: an act of obedience (the main verb), constituting a (further [cf. 2.12a]) demonstration of healing, and the observers’ response (the result clause). 328 A brief sen322

This idea comes from Stephen Levinsohn (private communication). On the related notion of speeches grouped as couplets see Levinsohn (2012: 111). 323 “The net effect is to slow the discourse flow and build anticipation” (Runge 2010: 141). The expectation is that the HP marks a low-level boundary. But continuity in the context pushes the reader’s processing to see a discourse-pragmatic function. 324 I owe this point to Runge (personal communication). Longacre (1985), cited by Longacre (1999: 141, n. 5), that a “zone of turbulence” occurs, as marked language usage replaces unmarked usage as the norm. Rather than claim a phenomenon in and of itself (“zone of turbulence”), I take the global prominence given to certain sections of a narrative to be the result of discourse feature clustering. This can be seen in Mk 14 and 15 and Jn 20. On Mk see, especially, Longacre (1999: 146, 160–161, 168); cf. Runge (2010: 140–141) on Mk and Jn. Longacre’s (1999) analysis of HP clusters marking key moments toward the end of the narrative is more convincing: in a key peak (Gethsemane; 14.32–42), the climax (Jesus’ beating and crucifixion; 15.16–41) and, possibly, the following epiphany (16.1–8). I am less convinced of the (fewer) HPs marking peaks and “inciting incidents” earlier on (3.1–6; 5.21–43; cf. 2.1–12; 4.35–40). See further, below, Section Q. 325 These four sentences (Mk 5.33–34) also constitute a sub-section and a development. 326 Note the HP in Mk 16.6(–7), pointing forward to the events of 16.8a,c. 327 Note the HP in Mk 9.5, pointing forward to 9.7–8. The intervening background information (9.6) slows the narrative down prior to the key moment. 328 Note the HPs in Mk 2.8(–10a), 10b(–11), pointing forward to 2.12a. Use of καὶ εὐθύς (2.12b–c) probably highlights the respective sentence. It is possible that the postnuclear result clause, concluding the story, receives greater prominence than the preceding indicative verb.

126

Chapter 2: Mark

tence, part of the first response (5.15c; the emotional element), constitutes the moment of greatest intensity or interest in the story of the exorcism of Legion. 329 Possibly, the response in two other stories, a fade-out imperfect (10.52c) or a similar phenomenon (6.51c), is part of the respective peak. 330 A statement or statements of the miracle’s occurrence (Mk 1.42; 7.35a–b) or an action demonstrating healing (5.42a) may alone constitute a story’s key moment. 331 A peak may comprise a statement that the miracle transpires or action confirming it alongside a precipitating action (3.5b–c: recipient, first, obediently stretches out his hand) or other accompanying action (6.51a–b: Jesus enters the boat first). 332 Alternatively Jesus’ command(s) (1.25–26; 4.39; cf. 1.31a–b [Jesus’ performative act]) and a subsequent statement of a miracle’s realisation form a pair constituting an episode’s peak. 333 Related is 329 Note the HPs in Mk 5.15a–b (ἔρχονται... θεωροῦσιν), pointing forward to 5.15c (ἐφοβήθησαν). The story is unique in that the middle of three sections of the story (i.e. the first response: 5.14–17), contains the highpoint. But the way the story is told calls for such an understanding. The exorcism and its immediate result, the drowning of the pigs, is related briefly (5.13b–d). Nothing is said about the formerly demon-possessed man at that point and he takes an active role again only in the dénouement (5.18–20). The response of the pig herders, however, and others of the region is related in detail. Repetitions reinforce its centrality (what happened is twice reported; seeing the exorcism or the man in a normal state is mentioned three times). And conflict leads, ironically, to Jesus leaving. The onset of fear, inspiration for the demand, is the key moment (5.15c). 330 On these instances, see below, nn. 332 and 334. 331 Note in these three instances Jesus’ speech (being or including a command) which effects the healing comes in an immediately preceding sentence introduced by an HP (λέγει: 1.41b; 5.41; 7.34). In two cases (1.42; 5.42a) καὶ εὐθύς further highlights the realisation of the miracle. Note the two other HPs (7.32) in one story leading forward to the peak. In another story, too, preceding HPs (παραλαμβάνει... εἰσπορεύεται... [5.40b–c]) help bring the story to its culmination. 332 Note the HPs in Mk 3.4a, 5a (the intervening material is offline information), pointing forward to 3.5b–c. The response (3.6), a fade-out imperfect, is the dénouement. Likewise, an HP in 6.50d points forward to 6.51a–b. Possibly the sentence καὶ λείαν ἐν ἑαυτοῖς ἐξείσταντο (6.51c) should also be seen as the third event in a cluster highlighted by the HP of 6.50d. Alternatively, the disciples’ response (6.51c–52), a fade-out imperfect with accompanying background material, is the dénouement. [Note Jesus’ walking on the water is articulated, alternately: (a) with a HP (ἔρχεται; 6.48), pointing forward to the response; and (b) subordinated, as the object of visual perception (6.49a).] 333 The two mainline events of the sentences in Mk 1.25–26 are given prominence through different means: marked encoding through use of ὁ Ἰησοῦς (1.25); and a slowing down of the narrative through a series of backgrounded events (pre-nuclear participles) prior to the main verb, building suspense leading up to it (1.26). The four sentences of 4.39 are preceded by a series of HPs: λέγει... παραλαμβάνουσιν... γίνεται... ἐγείρουσιν... λέγουσιν (4.36a, 37a, 38b–c) – 4.39a being, in fact, the first mainline event expressed with an aorist indicative. The precise pairing of Jesus’ rebuke to the wind and command to the sea (4.39a–b) with statements of the ceasing of the wind and sea (4.39c–d) aid, from a

Distribution of Responses in Miracle Stories

127

the story of Bartimaeus’ healing, in which Jesus’ words of salvation and the statement of healing (10.52a–b) are the key moment. 334 In one unusual case Jesus’ speech (11.22–25), following the disciples’ response, is the peak. 335

P. Distribution of Responses in Miracle Stories Where do miracle stories with responses appear in the course of the Markan narrative? Miracle stories towards the beginning of the Gospel typically have responses (see Table 3). If the narrative’s opening story is bracketed, then eight, perhaps all, of the first nine miracle stories have responses. After this roughly one in two stories has a response up until the last three stories, each of which has a response. The emotion of amazement occurs in seven of 10 responses with an emotional element. It appears in every second or third miracle story until the healing of the deaf and mute man (7.31–37), then skipping six stories it appears again only in the final one. The emotion of fear, alternatively, begins in the stilling of the storm (4.35–41) and appears, thereafter, in six of seven responses with an emotional element. After the first three (consecutive) stories with responses containing fear, it occurs every third, fourth or fifth story. The four responses that do not have an emotional element are found approximately among the first and last miracle stories. Of course the angle taken here on the data has its limits – the surrounding narrative contexts must be taken into consideration. Still, this “snap shot” helps to identify some general trends.

literary point of view, in identifying all four sentences as the culminating events, though there are no surface features indicating that these sentences necessarily have more prominence than those that follow (4.40–41). 334 The marked encoding in the designation of ὁ Ἰησοῦς in Mk 10.52a and use of καὶ εὐθύς in 10.52b achieve the greater prominence for the respective sentences. Possibly the phrase καὶ εὐθύς should be seen as highlighting also the concluding, open-ended events (10.52c), that is, the response. 335 This instance is also unique in that the episode’s peak and final event, Jesus’ speech, is given as an HP (λέγει: Mk 11.22–25). It thus points beyond the episode, to further developments. At any rate, the speech is highlighted through two discourse features: marked encoding through use of ὁ Ἰησοῦς and the redundant quotative frame (ἀποκριθεὶς... λέγει), which indicates that the utterance is an attempt by the speaker to take control in the conversation.

128

Chapter 2: Mark

Table 3: Distribution of responses among miracle stories, noting type of emotion 336 Story

Miracle type

1.9–11

Epiphany

1.21–28

Exorcism

1.29–31

Healing

1.39–45

Healing

2.1–12

Healing

3.1–6

Healing

4.35–41

Rescue / nature

5.1–20

Exorcism

5.24b–34

Healing

5.21–24a, 35–43

Healing

6.35–46

Nature

6.47–52

Rescue / nature

7.24b–30

Exorcism

7.31–37

Healing

8.1–9

Nature

8.22–26

Healing

9.2–8

Epiphany

9.14–29

Exorcism

10.46–52

Healing

11.12–14, 20–25

Nature

16.1–8(+?)

Epiphany

Response

Emotion

(?)

( )

Fear / trouble

Amazement

336 The table shows if a miracle story has a response (column 3) and if the said response contains emotion(s) (columns 4–6). Highlighting identifies the five stories that do or may have an epiphanic aspect. Note the intercalated story (Mk 5.24b–34) is listed first (i.e. before 5.21–24a, 35–43), since its miracle occurs first.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

129

Q. Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative The final task of this chapter is to draw together my earlier observations, situating them in the overall narrative. What role do the miracle stories and, in specific, the responses play in the unfolding of characterisation and development of plot-lines? And what effect does the implied author 337 intend to have on the (ideal) audience? 338 Alter’s interest in “what is done in each individual application of the schema to give it a sudden tilt of innovation” will be borne in mind. 339 For convenience, alongside my shorthand designations exact references will be provided. First, I offer a brief discussion of the “structure” of Mark. Many conflicting views exist – they are so numerous, in fact, that some doubt whether anything can be plausibly claimed. 340 I take as a point of departure the key junctures of the plot (see Section A): the climax, i.e. crucifixion (15.20c–41, especially, 15.39), and the turning point (8.27–9.13). From here one can easily add the dénouement (15.42–16.8[?]). In addition, similar to many interpreters, I see that following the title (1.1) and introduction (1.2–13) three sections precede the turning point: 1.14–3.6; 3.7–6.6a; 6.6b–8.26. 341 The main subsequent boundaries are 11.1 and 14.1 (see Table 4). 342 The general argument to be pursued below does not rely heavily on these additional boundaries. Nevertheless, questions can be usefully asked as to the distribution of miracle stories (16 prior to the turning point; 4 after) and responses (notably in section 3 only 2 of 6 stories have responses – why?).

337 “Implied author” is used for discussion of effects on readers (Rimmon-Kenan 2002: 87–90, 118–130). 338 Answers to this question will be presented at the end of this section. 339 As mentioned previously, among literary critics of the Gospels, I have not found any study that has given attention to the variations of the miracle response motif employed by Mark. 340 On this topic see, generally, Larsen (2004); Collins (2007: 85–93) and Morrison (2008: 2–34). 341 Cf., especially, Perrin and Duling (1982: 239–247), though I am less than convinced that summaries, head up each new section – see the judgement of Hedrick (1984: 304), cited by Larsen (2004: 151–152). Rather, sections are defined, primarily, by their content, with aid at times from boundary features at their opening (see Section N) and others, notably responses or a related motif, at their close. See further below. 342 The five major boundaries noted here (1.14, 3.7, 6.6b, 11.1 and 14.1) are held by, e.g., Hooker (1991: 27–29), Moloney (2002: 18–19) and Culpepper (2007: 35–38). I accept that “[s]tructures in the gospel [of Mk] are not necessarily entirely discrete, but may overlap or interpenetrate one another” (Dewey 1980: 38).

130

Chapter 2: Mark

Table 4: Distribution of responses in miracle stories within sections of the narrative Section

Reference

Response / Stories

Responses

Intro

1.2–13

0/1

1

1.14–3.6

4 (prob. 5) / 5

1.27–28; (prob. 1.31c;) 1.45; 2.12c; 3.6

2

3.7–6.6a

4/4

4.41; 5.14–17 and 5.20; 5.33; 5.42d (cf. 6.6a)

3

6.6b–8.26

2/6

6.49–50b and 6.51c–52; 7.36b–37

Turning point

8.27–9.13

1/1

9.5–6 and 9.8

4

9.14–10.52

1/2

10.52c

5

11.1–13.37

1/1

11.20b–21

6

14.1–15.20b

0/0

Climax

15.20c–41

0/0

Dénouement

15.42–47; 16.1–8[?]

1/1

16.5b–c and 16.8

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

131

I. Prior to the first miracle story with a response The title (Mk 1.1) sets the expectation for the audience that what follows will concern itself with Jesus the Messiah. 343 This expectation is confirmed by the first episode (1.2–11). After the setting of the stage with background material on Jesus’ predecessor, 344 the protagonist is introduced in a terse account of his baptism and an accompanying visual and audio theophany, portrayed with more than a hint of the marvellous. 345 It is one of the most vivid and profound direct interventions of God in the book. The heavens opening, the empowering 346 spirit of God descends on Jesus. Features of the story of Elisha’s succession of Elijah are echoed. 347 Then follows one of two instances where God, the most authoritative voice in the narrative, speaks directly (also 9.7). The statements’ content in both cases is similar: Jesus is God’s “son.” Yet no fanfare accompanies the theophany. The audience is not told whether anyone other than Jesus even witnesses it. 348 Jesus’ visual perception is given some attention, though his inner thoughts and feelings are not penetrated – so he, not the theophany itself, seems to be focalised. Jesus does not respond in any way to the experience. Thus, the introduction of Jesus amidst a miracle story, a theophany in particular, in which Jesus’ sonship to God is declared, is a manifesto of sorts for the book. On the one hand key knowledge is shared between four narrative agents – God, Jesus, the narrator and the audience – and an implicit question is raised as to whether other characters already do or will come to know who 343

As per Collins (2007: 130–132), the title is original. For a different view (“a superscription... added by a scribe in the latter half of the second century”) see Culpepper (2007: 40–41 [40]). υἱοῦ θεοῦ is probably added by a later hand (Collins 2007: 130). 344 Following the imperfects and equivalent periphrastic construction in Mk 1.2–8, the next three sentences present the first actions of the narrative (ἦλθεν... εἶδεν... ἐγένετο; 1.9–11). 345 Taylor (2011: 115–116, 130–134) analyses the levels of narration at work in each of the pericopes of Mk 4.35–6.56. Here only occasional comments can be made on the issue – primarily regarding the epiphanies and rescue nature miracles. The “marvelous” features in 1.2–11 fit best in “romance,” where the “typical hero” is herself “identified as a human being,” though superior in “degree” to other humans and to her environment (Frye 1957: 33). Still, to cite Taylor (2011: 131) mutatis mutandis, “this encounter does not take place in some enchanted land... but in the... entirely real Decapolis [here: Jordan river] region....” 346 For the sake of brevity, I have anticipated the later, unfolding characterisation of Jesus as “empowered” by the spirit – an understanding that comes out especially in relation to exorcisms (see, especially, Mk 3.23–30). 347 On the parallels with stories from the Scriptures, see Chapter Seven. 348 The crowds are not mentioned after the background material is related (1.4–8); and John’s action is stated indirectly (ἐβαπτίσθη... ὑπὸ Ἰωάννου; 1.9). Effectively, it seems, only Jesus and God are on stage.

132

Chapter 2: Mark

Jesus is. 349 The formation of this nexus of shared knowledge is supported by the absence (possibly intentional) of the response motif – so common elsewhere – regarding John and the crowd. 350 On the other hand, a shroud of mystery surrounds the brief pronouncement for at least one member of the quartet: the audience. 351 What does Jesus being God’s son mean? At the least it provides confirmation of the title’s summary designation of Jesus as the Messiah. Thus he is certainly “superior in degree” to other human characters; but what else can be said? 352 The sense of mystery is heightened by, despite Jesus being focalised, the absence of any indication of how he feels or thinks about the theophany – potentially the intentional absence of a response motif, too, is at work. 353 Implications of the heavenly pronouncement will be explicated throughout the narrative. Terminologically similar identifications will occur at key junctures, in the speech of: God in the turning point (9.7), Jesus (14.[61–]62) and, ironically, a Roman centurion at the climax (15.39). 354 Prior to and during the turning point (8.27–9.13), miracles will play an important role in revealing his identity to the audience – both characterisation and plot, thus, are in view. This is true, too, of the close of the book (16.1– 8[?]), which is, like the opening story, an account of an epiphany. The next miracle story follows only a little later. First come a summary 355 of Jesus’ temptation (1.12–13), which closes off the opening section, 356 a summary introduction of his public activity (1.14–15; his miraculous deeds 349

Cf. Culpepper 2007: 68–69. Similarly, Broadhead 2001: 23. 351 God and the narrator know more than they are letting on. The sense that Jesus may too is created by the lack of penetration into his thoughts and feelings about the marvellous happenings. 352 This citation of Frye (1957: 33, 34) presents a criterion of heros in both “romance” (including “legend” and “folk tale”) and “the high mimetic mode” (i.e. “most epic and tragedy”). In the former, the hero is superior to the hero’s environment; in the latter, subject to it. As Jesus has scarcely acted by Mk 1.11, little of his qualities is known. 353 The audience would only come to such an opinion retrospectively, once it becomes clear that miracle stories throughout the narrative so often have responses. 354 Ironic, too, are similar statements made by demons/unclean spirits (Mk 3.11; 5.7). Cf. also the implicit claim of Jesus in a parable (12.1–11) and in a private discourse (13.32). 355 Properly speaking, this is not a story – three short sentences, covering a period of 40 days, employ the imperfect, describing repeated events (Mk 1.13). The initial sentence (using a HP) simply portrays motion to a new location (1.12). 356 Mk 1.14 is a major boundary because of: first, the thematic discontinuity – Jesus’ ministry in the Galilee (Collins 2007: 87–88) – second, the sentence-initial temporal reference (i.e. frame of reference; see n. 308), μετὰ δὲ τὸ παραδοθῆναι τὸν Ἰωάννην – and, third, the redundant use of ὁ Ἰησοῦς (see n. 309). Other episode-initial instances of ὁ Ἰησοῦς are 3.7; 8.27; 9.2 (in 12.35, continuity of context mitigating a break, the noun phrase highlights the speech). 350

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

133

are not mentioned) and the second story of the narrative, Jesus’ private call of a few key followers (1.16–20). A brief word about the call story is in order. The followers will not play a key role in the immediately following stories (1.21–3.6; 357 here, when present, they are almost always tertiary 358 to the interaction of Jesus and others, especially his opponents). However, the preeminence of Jesus’ relationship to them is established – representing the disciples, generally, and the Twelve, as well as themselves constituting an inner circle. 359 And a pattern of Jesus interacting with them directly in stories of a private setting is begun. 360 Finally, Simon, Andrew, James and John are the first to react to Jesus in the narrative, though not to his miracles, which have not taken place yet, but simply to his call to discipleship. 361 II. Mark 1.27–28 So the first story of Jesus’ public activity is of his first miracle (1.21–28), which, alongside his teaching, is an indication of his authority as God’s son. 362 By word only and without invoking anyone’s name (e.g. Solomon or even God) Jesus successfully commands an unclean spirit’s silence and exit from the victim. 363 The story is characterised by the amazement of those in the synagogue – first in the introductory material describing their reaction to his teaching (ἐξεπλήσσοντο; 1.22) and then in the mainline response (ἐθαμβήθησαν; 1.27), following the exorcism, which pertains to both teaching and miraculous deed. 364 The lengthy, developed response (1.27–28), clos-

357 There is an inclusio to Mk 1.21–3.6. It begins and ends with stories of healings in a synagogue on the Sabbath. Both of these stories, too, have key responses to miracles. See below. 358 The one exception is Mk 1.35–38. 359 Note subsequently the inner circle is often just three, excluding Andrew. 360 They represent the said three character groups of established followers, despite that in this early episode the four become followers. Also Peter and, to a lesser extent, the sons of Zebedee, are characters in their own right. 361 In Mk 1.18 and 1.20b description of following (ἠκολούθησαν; ἀπῆλθον ὀπίσω αὐτοῦ) is preceded by ἀφέντες, expressing the fishermen’s forsaking their former way of life. Their immediate and complete obedience to Jesus’ commanding call seems to give the story, despite its realism, hues of what Frye (1957: 34) calls the “high mimetic mode.” (This level of narration is not among those present in Taylor’s analysis of Mk 4–6; see above, n. 345.) 362 Jesus’ conflict with this possessed man, who like the one in Mk 5.1–20 has “extraordinary knowledge” of Jesus (but no “preternatural strength”), may also “in some ways fit well into a work of ‘romance’” (Taylor 2011: 130–131). 363 Cf. Collins 2007: 166. 364 Cf. e.g. Tagawa 1966: 89; Dwyer 1996: 92, 98; Culpepper 2007: 57; Strecker 2013: 206.

134

Chapter 2: Mark

ing the episode, has emotion, speech and reporting (many of the most common elements): καὶ ἐθαμβήθησαν ἅπαντες ὥστε συζητεῖν πρὸς ἑαυτοὺς λέγοντας· τί ἐστιν τοῦτο; διδαχὴ καινὴ κατ᾿ ἐξουσίαν· καὶ τοῖς πνεύμασι τοῖς ἀκαθάρτοις ἐπιτάσσει, καὶ ὑπακούουσιν αὐτῷ. καὶ ἐξῆλθεν ἡ ἀκοὴ αὐτοῦ εὐθὺς πανταχοῦ εἰς ὅλην τὴν περίχωρον τῆς Γαλιλαίας.

The utterance raises the question of the origin of Jesus’ powerful teaching. 365 For the audience, therefore, it is confirmed that the theophany experienced by Jesus at the Jordan was not public knowledge. Ironically, the unclean spirit is aware that Jesus is “the holy one of God,” while the crowd is unsure of his identity, affirming only that he is a powerful teacher. 366 The crowd’s response to Jesus’ miracle is inferior to the disciples’ preceding reaction to his call. The prevalent amazement here is given a mixed association – it is positive yet inadequate. 367 For hearers/readers a tension is set in place as to if/when human characters will come to a greater realisation of Jesus’ identity. 368 In the meantime, knowledge of Jesus’ power to teach and expel demons spreads widely. 369 Because of its location, this miracle story and the response it contains have the possibility of being paradigmatic. 370 To a certain extent they are. Before various crowds Jesus will perform primarily healings, including exorcisms, though they may take increasingly powerful manifestations – and twice he will miraculously provide food. Crowds, likewise, when having an emotional response to a healing, will be amazed (2.12c; 5.20; 7.37; with 5.15 as an exception). And their verbal responses, including estimations of Jesus, will never adequately appreciate him (2.12c; 7.37; cf. 6.2–3, 14–15; 8.28). Yet, in another sense, the response is not paradigmatic, but rather sets a bar. 371 Some characters will respond to Jesus’ miracles in a worse – 1.45a (ex-leper); 7.36b (companions of ex-deaf/mute man) – or far worse manner – 3.6 (Pharisees); 5.14–17 (pig-herders and Gadarene crowd); cf. also 6.2–3, 5 (the crowd in 365 See also Mk 1.22: καὶ ἐξεπλήσσοντο ἐπὶ τῇ διδαχῇ αὐτοῦ· ἦν γὰρ διδάσκων αὐτοὺς ὡς ἐξουσίαν ἔχων καὶ οὐχ ὡς οἱ γραμματεῖς. 366 Cf. Theissen 1974: 170–171; Kingsbury 1983: 86–88 and 1989: 39; Hooker 1991: 65–66, 72–75. Some (e.g. Broadhead 1992: 56–62), argue that the author subordinates Jesus’ miracle to his teaching in this first public episode. 367 Contra Tagawa 1966 1966: 89–90 and Dwyer 1996: 98–99. 368 Similar are Hooker (1991: 65) and Culpepper, for whom the unclean spirit’s “disclosure” in this initial public episode concerns “the issue around which the plot of the Gospel revolves” (Culpepper 2007: 56–57 [56]). Cf. Theissen 1974: 212. 369 Jesus’ entering Capernaum and exit of the news about him provide the story’s framework (Strecker 2013: 206). 370 So Tagawa 1966: 88; Dwyer 1996: 93 (with references to others), 98–99; Strecker 2013: 207. 371 Similarly see Dwyer 1996: 98–99.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

135

Jesus’ hometown). Related, two pertinent phenomena (3.6; 6.6a) touch on issues of structure. Other characters, especially individuals, will respond more positively: notably the Gadarene ex-demoniac (5.20) and Bartimaeus (10.52c); probably also Peter’s mother-in-law (1.31c). Various crowds will become more confident in their opinions of who Jesus is (2.12c; 7.37). Mark 1.21–28 and subsequent developments in public settings also set a precedent for similar developments with established followers in private miracle stories. Jesus’ followers will reach a better though still imperfect understanding of Jesus. 372 Thus, this initial miracle story and the crowd’s response set a standard – unsatisfactory by the narrator’s system of values – to which later responses to Jesus’ activity, including perhaps especially formal responses in miracle stories, may be compared. 373 III. Intervening material The three pericopae that follow, together with the previous story, effectively constitute two adjacent days (in some sense paradigmatic – though, the episodes have an inciting aspect) 374 in the public ministry of Jesus and, thus, a distinct portion of the narrative. 375 The spatial continuity, too, helps establish 372

Similarly, Hooker 1991: 21. Tolbert (1989) also sees the various reactions to Jesus as a key to following the unfolding of the plot. I do not agree, however, that the Parable of the Sower (Mk 4.1–20) is a “fundamental typology of hearing-response that organizes the entire plot of the Gospel” (Tolbert 1989: 163, emphasis mine). She identifies four monolithic groups of people who allegedly fit the typology (the scribes, Pharisees and “Jerusalem Jewish leaders”; the disciples; Herod and the rich young man; “ones healed (or saved) by their faith”) (Tolbert 1989: 171). Without going into detailed criticism of the proposal, suffice it to say that here more attention is given to nuance – individual instances of response and, where relevant, development and complexity of characterisation. Other respondents, notably various crowds, are also considered. I still understand the Parable of the Sower as offering a picture of different types of reactions (to teaching etc.) and responses to miracles. But the options given in the parable are not exhaustive, nor can any one character (group) be identified exclusively with one soil type, not even the soil “along the way” (cf. Mk 15.43–46). Note, Tolbert considers miracle stories important (1989: 176–177), but, for her, reactions to Jesus’ teaching, which are the catalyst for a given miracle, are central; responses to the miracles themselves are less significant for characterisation. 374 Cf. especially Mk 1.38, where Jesus, it seems, makes a decision to continue travelling and proclaiming. 375 Narrative time slows to roughly a 24-hour period in Mk 1.21–39, covering the Sabbath and the first day of the week. Many scholars (Broadhead 2001: 25–28; Witherington 2001: 97; Donahue and Harrington 2002: 78–86; Culpepper 2007: 54, 61) note this temporally based unity (though often misconstruing it as “one day”). Moloney (2002: 55–56) focuses on 1.21–34. The crowd waits until sunset, after the Sabbath, to bring their afflicted (Collins 2007: 175). Note Broadhead (1992: 56–71; cf. 2001: 25–28) argues for three intertwined pericopae (including 1.32–39), not four (including 1.32–34; 35–39). The “tem373

136

Chapter 2: Mark

this delineation. 376 Jesus’ healing is important, often central, to all of the pericopae. A private healing story (1.29–31) may well contain a response. 377 If so, the brief response of one element (καὶ διηκόνει αὐτοῖς: 1.31c), closing the episode, is positive, recalling the angels’ recent service to Jesus (1.13c). The act portrays Peter’s mother-in-law as becoming a follower or foreshadows women followers. 378 Whatever the case may be, it is worth noting that the narrator passes by the opportunity to have the disciples 379 respond to a miracle. Hearers/readers must rather wait until the narrative portrays more of the diversity of positioning towards Jesus by various non-follower characters. 380 And the disciples’ response will come in a more private setting. No reactions are noted in the following story, containing a geographically localised summary of exorcisms and other healings (1.32–34). Still, bringing the sick to Jesus (1.32–33) is effectively an informal continuation of or fallout from 1.27–28, 381 as is the search for Jesus the next morning (1.36–37). The sense is that the town is still buzzing with talk and amazement at the exorcism. Also, owing to their faith, the crowd’s characterisation takes a positive step forward. 382 As the four episodes (1.21–38) are closely linked, the absence of a reaction in the summary (and, potentially, in the private healing story) does not seem to have a great significance. 383

poral frame of reference” (Runge 2010: 216–220) in 1.35, with a change of setting and characters, is reason to see a boundary. A fronted time reference occurs in 1.32; though the sense of continuity is stronger here, as a “genitive circumstantial frame” is used (Runge 2010: 256–261; especially 256–257 on various references to change of time). 376 Broadhead 2001: 26. 377 See above, n. 156. 378 See above, n. 247. Note that, unlike the man formerly possessed by Legion or Bartimaeus, the characterisation of Peter’s mother-in-law is minimal. Importantly, the three words do not convey whom she understands Jesus to be. As Lau (2013: 214) observes, the two finite verbs of which the woman is the subject denoted her plight (κατέκειτο: 1.30a) and her remedied condition (διηκόνει: 1.31c). 379 Again, this term is appropriate, since the two sets of brothers are the only established followers identified so far. 380 Lau (2013: 215) correctly notes that, given their concern for the sick person and portrayal as active participants in the story, “die anwesenden Schüler... eigentümlich still bleiben” (“the disciples present... remain curiously silent”) at its close. On the semi-public (or soon-to-be-public) nature of the setting, see above, n. 269. 381 Thus, in retrospect, the audience knows Mk 1.28 spoke proleptically and the crowd did not violate the Sabbath. 382 Faith as an explicit theme related to miracles is not introduced until Mk 2.5. 383 The idea that “Mark places the woman-episode at the center of the day’s activities... as an indication of the reigning presence of God” (Moloney 2002: 56) does justice neither to the placement, length and important features (notably Jesus’ teaching, the term ἐξουσία, comparison with the scribes, amazement (twice), the response, generally, and the question

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

137

IV. Mark 1.45 The healing of the leper (1.39–45) 384 functions, on the one hand, to establish the hyperbolic presence of crowds around Jesus. 385 To this end a lengthy response of two main types of elements – movement and reporting – is employed (1.45): ὁ δὲ ἐξελθὼν ἤρξατο κηρύσσειν πολλὰ καὶ διαφημίζειν τὸν λόγον, ὥστε μηκέτι αὐτὸν δύνασθαι φανερῶς εἰς πόλιν εἰσελθεῖν, ἀλλ᾿ ἔξω ἐπ᾿ ἐρήμοις τόποις ἦν· καὶ ἤρχοντο πρὸς αὐτὸν πάντοθεν.

The most prominent element, reporting, is an ironic counterpart to Jesus’ command not to speak (in this geographical region), which itself creates the impression of a private setting for the miracle, contrasting the setting of the synagogue in the first miracle story, where amazement reigns. The second element, hearers’ coming to Jesus, brings the story into a public setting. On the other hand, the story introduces a response to Jesus that falls below amazement and asking questions about him: disobedience and disrespect. 386 No reason is given for his failure. 387 The (ex-)leper is, thus, complex, since he also demonstrates great faith in Jesus and God. 388 A dangerous option of understanding and relating to Jesus is opened up to the audience. The exleper’s failure to visit the priests, in fact, can be seen as a catalyst and foreshadowing of Jesus’ terminal conflict with them. 389

of Jesus’ identity) of Mk 1.21–28 nor to the concept of “day” that is implicit in the text (see above, n. 375). 384 Contra, e.g., Broadhead (1992: 64, 72) and Culpepper (2007: 60–61), Mk 1.39, containing a geographically broader summary of Jesus’ activity, including exorcisms, is more likely to mark a boundary than to be the final sentence of the preceding episode. Note a similar construction in 1.14 (ἦλθεν... κηρύσσων). No response occurs in this summary. As here, an initial sentence containing an aorist indicative is, at times, followed by an HP which aids in marking a boundary (cf. e.g. 4.1; 5.21–22; 6.1; cf. 2.18 [initial imperfect]). 385 On the other hand, the story demonstrates the power of Jesus’ purity. Rather than becoming impure, by touching the leper Jesus’ purity overcomes the impurity of the disease (cf. Müller 2013: 222). 386 Some (e.g. Tolbert 1989: 137, 141; Broadhead 1992: 73; Culpepper 2007: 63) would exonerate the ex-leper. Müller’s (2013: 223) take on the issue is similar to the present reading. 387 This will be the norm in the narrative when a response that is worse than Mk 1.27– 28 occurs. 388 There is no penetration into his inner life, nor, owing to the paucity of text, any character development. 389 Broadhead (2001: 29–30) agrees with the implication of conflict with the priests, but, contrary to the view presented here, would see Jesus’ command to report as an instigation of the conflict (Broadhead 1992: 74–75).

138

Chapter 2: Mark

V. Mark 2.12c The narrative returns to a public setting in the healing of the paralytic (2.1– 12). 390 Here Jesus associates his important, initially ambiguous, selfdesignation, ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου with his authority (ἐξουσία; cf. 2.28). 391 The meaning of the designation, appearing first here, will be flipped on its head in the turning point (8.31). Jesus will associate it, ultimately, with the figure in Dan 7 (Mk 14.62). The story of the paralytic introduces explicitly the themes of faith and of conflict with Jesus’ opponents – the latter carries through the next episodes, with 2.1–3.6 forming an “extended concentric structure.” 392 Still, the present episode links the foregoing (1.21–45), largely miracle stories, with the following conflict stories. 393 The conflict is centred on what Jesus can or cannot say, whether declaring forgiveness or effecting healing. 394 A response by “all” of amazement and praise to God (the seeing element occurs too, for the first time), emphasising the unique quality of the miracle, closes the pericope (2.12c): ...ὥστε ἐξίστασθαι πάντας καὶ δοξάζειν τὸν θεὸν λέγοντας ὅτι οὕτως οὐδέποτε εἴδομεν. Amazement is, thus, reinforced as the paradigmatic response to Jesus’ public healing activity. 395 Yet development has also occurred: questions about Jesus’ teaching (1.27) are replaced by confident praise of God. 396 This crowd, 397 likely related to that of

390 Probably the same house in which Peter’s mother-in-law was healed is meant (Lau 2013: 215). The door, previously mentioned with regards to crowds and healing, is referred to again (Mk 2.2; cf. 1.33). 391 ἐξουσία has been important for characterising Jesus, through a crowd’s mouth, already in Mk 1.27 (cf. 1.22). 392 Dewey 1980: 33. Dewey argues, based on vocabulary, form and content, for the pattern a b c b’ a’ in Mk 2.1–3.6. The pattern serves “to bind the incidents into an organic whole” and has a “linear or climactic development” (Dewey 1980: 119, 137). 393 See Tolbert 1989: 139–141. Still, I am not convinced by the overall parallel structure she proposes for Mk 1.16–3.6. E.g. if 1.29–34 is one episode, as she claims, then there is no good reason to see 2.13–14 and 2.15–17 as separate episodes. (As Tolbert notes, Mk 1.35–39 already does not fit the proposed structure.) Further, see above, n. 392. 394 As Klumbies (2013: 236) notes, Jesus makes both of these statements (Mk 2.5, 11) as the story unfolds. Jesus is in fact the only one to speak until Mk 2.12. 395 A number of features set the story of Mk 2.1–12 in close relation to the first miracle story (1.21–28): teaching situations that give rise to miracles, use of ἐξουσία (1.22, 27; 2.10), similar types of questions (τί ἐστιν τοῦτο [1.27]; τί οὗτος οὕτως λαλεῖ [2.7]), οἱ γραμματεῖς in opposition to Jesus (1.22; 2.6), reference to time in the verbal element (διδαχὴ καινή [1.27]; οὕτως οὐδέποτε εἶδομεν [2.12]) and amazement. Cf. Dwyer (1996: 99; cf. 102–103) on some possible, though not convincing, “structural similarities” between 1.27 and 2.12c (i.e. ὥστε... λέγοντας). 396 Dwyer (1996: 100) notes the uniqueness of this “doxology,” though he remarks on some similarities in 7.37.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

139

1.21–28(–34), has formulated their view of Jesus. It is better than some views that crystallise in what follows, though it does not meet the narrator’s approval. 398 VI. Mark 3.6 The last conflict story (3.1–6) in the concentric structure, the other miracle story, 399 concludes with the extreme, antagonistic response of Jesus’ opponents – the most negative response in the narrative. Uncommonly, the cause of their poor response is given: their heart condition (3.5). 400 The response has two elements, movement and conspiring to destroy Jesus (3.6), the latter being the most prominent and serving as a fade-out: καὶ ἐξελθόντες οἱ Φαρισαῖοι εὐθὺς μετὰ τῶν Ἡρῳδιανῶν συμβούλιον ἐδίδουν κατ᾿ αὐτοῦ ὅπως αὐτὸν ἀπολέσωσιν. 401 The temporal (Sabbath) and physical (synagogue) setting “forms a nice inclusio with the very first healing story.” 402 Thus, the response here contrasts significantly with the first (1.27–28): vehement opposition versus stupefaction. A contrast with the positive yet inadequate praise and amazement (2.12c) in the story opening the “controversy section” also occurs. 403 Like in that story, here too Jesus’ speech, addressing alternately the disabled person and Jesus’ opponents, constitutes the main action. 404 The only speech from other characters comes as the final element in the respective

397 Given that the hyperbolic use of πάντες is common in Hellenistic Greek, Mk 2.12c potentially remains ambiguous at the close of the story. Still, it does not seem likely (contra e.g. Dwyer 1996: 103; Klumbies 2013: 237–238) that the scribes partake in the act of praise as part of the crowd. This becomes clearer in related episodes, following shortly thereafter, in which they are still pitted against Jesus. 398 Contra Tolbert 1989: 139, 141; Broadhead 1992: 77; Dwyer 1996: 104; Klumbies 2013: 237–238. 399 Mk 2.1–12 and 3.1–6 share the unusual pattern of “miracle initiated-debate-miracle completed,” (Dewey 1980: 111; cf. 111–112 on other common features). Cf. Tolbert (1989: 139–140), despite the larger proposed parallel structure. 400 This is one of the keys that link (see Mk 2.6–8) the outer stories of Mk 2.1–3.6 (cf. Dewey 1980: 69, 103, 111). 401 Jesus’ saving life (Mk 3.4) is contrasted with his opponents’ plotting to take life (Broadhead 1992: 83) – though it is not implied (contra Broadhead) they begin on the Sabbath; cf. 1.28 (εὐθύς), 32 (see above, n. 381). 402 Tolbert 1989: 132; cf. 139, 141. 403 So Dewey 1980: 112, 118; similarly, mutatis mutandis, Tolbert 1989: 139. 404 As in Mk 2.1–12a, Jesus alone speaks in 3.1–5, first to the disabled man, then to his opponents (with a question) and finally again to the disabled man (with a command). Three consecutive instances of λέγει (3.4–5) highlight the following healing and response. At the same time, a concentric structure emerges: Jesus’ first and third utterances are commands and a double-question sits in the middle (Becker 2013: 250).

140

Chapter 2: Mark

responses (here the content is indicated obliquely). 405 The responses conclude all three respective stories (1.27–28; 2.12c; 3.6). Having explored a variety of reactions to Jesus’ teaching and miracles, employing especially the formal feature of responses in miracle stories (4, possibly all, of 5 stories have them; they play a significant role in the development of the plot), 406 the first main section of the narrative, the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry (1.14–3.6), 407 ends on an ominous note. 408 VII. Intervening material The next four miracle stories, clustered together (4.35–5.43), and a subsequent story with a summary of miracles (6.1–6a), constitute, I suggest, the latter part of the next section (3.7–6.6a). 409 A brief account of Jesus escaping the crowd (3.7–12), including a summary of healings and exorcisms, opens it. The intervening material pertains in part to Jesus’ power to exorcise unclean spirits and those who recognise it and in part to a differentiation between insiders and outsiders. Jesus’ teaching, especially the one concentrated section of his parables (4.1–34), centred on the kingdom of God, plays an important role. The section sees a widening of the characters interacting with Jesus, a further diversifying of responses, along with other reactions, and the beginnings of a focus on Jesus’ interaction with the established followers, which will take predominance later in the narrative. The section also presents a new kind of miracle (other than healing) and, generally, miracles of a greater quality. The summary statement of Jesus’ ever more numerous healings (3.10–12; introduced by γάρ), given relatively extensive treatment (see the brief mainSee Section D, above, on my categorising συμβούλιον ἐδίδουν... ὅπως... ἀπολέσωσιν (Mk 3.6) as conspiring. 406 I see, like Tolbert (1989: 131–142), though with more room for nuance, that the first section consists of a variety of initial responses to Jesus. In my view his miracles play an important role and formal responses are key. 407 Most who do not take Mk 3.7 as a major section break (for some who do, see above, n. 342; also Broadhead 2001: 7) still see 3.6 as the conclusion of some larger unit (at least 2.1–3.6) – (so Tolbert 1989: 144, 311; Iersel 1998: 117; Longacre 1999: 165; Witherington 2001: 36, 38; Donahue and Harrington 2002: 47; Collins 2007: viii). 408 There is, perhaps, an inclusio of sorts for the first major section, which begins with a fronted reference to John getting arrested (Mk 1.14a), foreshadowing his successor’s fate, and ends with an explicit reference to the danger awaiting Jesus (3.6) – the final word is ἀπολέσωσιν. On 3.6 and 6.6 (I exclude 8.21, 10.45 and 12.44 as conclusions of major sections) “looking toward the passion” (Perrin and Duling 1982: 240). 409 The redundant use of ὁ Ἰησοῦς in Mk 3.7 at the beginning of a paragraph draws attention to an already existing boundary, creating a “major break” (Levinsohn 2000: 278). That it and the phrase μετὰ τῶν μαθητῶν are fronted reinforces the break. See above, n. 356, on a similar phenomenon in 1.14. See below on 6.6. 405

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

141

line events in 3.7–9), contains no reactions to the miracles. The demons’ recognition that Jesus is “the Son of God” appears first here. This development brings a sharper contrast, thus, between their understanding and that of the human characters reacting to Jesus’ miracles and teaching. 410 The behaviour here, in fact, of the now massive crowd puts Jesus’ corporeal safety at risk – a disturbing development in characterisation. 411 Thereafter Jesus privately selects the Twelve (3.13–19), though they will not have an active role distinct from the “disciples” until later. 412 The spectrum of others’ ideas of Jesus’ identity is further explored in the two following intertwined pericopae (3.20–35). Jesus’ family, here introduced, “go out to ‘save’ him and in the process ally themselves with his enemies [the Jerusalemite scribes].” 413 Neither character group recognises that God’s spirit dwells in Jesus – his family believes he has lost his mind; and the scribes think his power is from the Satan, the ultimate antithetical view. The irony of the alliance effects a “new sense of direction in the Gospel”: Jesus’ true house, not at all divided, is defined on the basis of doing God’s will. 414 The scribes’ opinion on his power’s origin is implicitly contrasted, again with irony, with the confession of the unclean spirits that Jesus is God’s son (3.11). The crowd is the contrapuntal, commendable character group in the intercalation. Yet, the immediately following teaching section will further refine the definition of insiders, those in God’s family. 415

410 Of a similar mind are Kingsbury (Kingsbury 1983: 86–88 and 1989: 38–39), Hooker (1991: 72–75, 110) and Donahue and Harrington (2002: 121–122), who observe, especially, the connection to the plot against Jesus initiated in Mk 3.6. Note that the demons’ declaration and Jesus’ silencing them, though background information, seem to gain some prominence by their location at the end of this unusual pericope, where so much is background material. 411 Mk 3.9 has a limiting effect on Malbon’s (2000: 71) proposed “composite portrait of followers of Jesus” (including the disciples and the crowd). 412 The larger group of disciples are referred to by οἱ μαθηταί throughout this section. See οἱ περὶ αὐτὸν σὺν τοῖς δώδεκα in Mk 4.10 (=οἱ μαθηταί in 4.34; cf. 5.31 and 6.1). On οἱ μαθηταί referring to the Twelve in 6.35, see below. 413 Shepherd 1995: 539. 414 Shepherd 1995: 538–539; cf. 532–533. Alazony (innocence of a “victim” or “ironist”) is necessary for irony. 415 There is a tension in Mk 3 and 4, since initially the crowd (ὁ ὄχλος; 3.20, 32 – distinct from the Twelve [cf. αὐτούς; 3.20]) seems unreservedly identified as insiders (those who do God’s will; 3.34–35), while in 4.10–11 a great crowd (ὄχλος πλεῖστος; 4.1) is excluded, as the followers (οἱ περὶ αὐτὸν σὺν τοῖς δώδεκα) alone are told they have been given the secret of the kingdom of God. The tension may be the result of insufficient reworking of source material. For unsuccessful attempts to harmonise the portrayals of the related crowds see Tolbert (1989: 160–161) and Malbon (2000: 83–84, 218–220). The tendency to favour the disciples over the crowd is predominant in the narrative overall.

142

Chapter 2: Mark

Jesus’ teaching is then introduced en masse (4.1–34; though see teaching interspersed in 2.1–3.6) in a series of parables. The distinction between Jesus’ disciples and the crowds is depicted within a given pericope for the first time. The disciples, in a contrastively private setting, are told that they have been given the mystery of the kingdom of God. 416 Accompanying the explicitly addressed mystery of the kingdom is the lingering, implicit mystery of Jesus – the parable-weaving source of knowledge of the kingdom – as Son of God, a royal messiah. 417 The three seed parables, especially, jointly address “the challenges to Jesus’ authority raised in Mark 2 and 3” (Culpepper 2007: 150). VIII. Mark 4.41 The following rescue miracle story (4.35–41) is a first in numerous ways, having: a character-focaliser (the disciples); the disciples and Jesus alone present; 418 a private setting throughout; 419 a miracle other than a healing; the greatest miracle yet, putting the great forces of nature into submission; an extensive parallel with a story from the Scriptures; 420 a mode of writing that “moves between several levels of narration... but tends towards the mythic”; 421 an epiphanic element; 422 fear as the emotion in a response; and the most extreme emotional response so far. The response – and with it the story – focuses explicitly on the identity of Jesus (4.41): καὶ ἐφοβήθησαν φόβον μέγαν καὶ ἔλεγον πρὸς ἀλλήλους· τίς ἄρα οὗτός ἐστιν ὅτι καὶ ὁ ἄνεμος καὶ ἡ θάλασσα ὑπακούει αὐτῷ;

(The theme of belief is present in Jesus’ comment following the miracle.) 423 The response in this, the first private miracle story, echoes that in the first 416

Mk 4.10–12; cf. 33–34. Of all characters the disciples – or followers – despite their foibles, are most to be linked to the good soil, since they are the chosen insiders. See above, n. 373 on the types of soil in the Parable of the Sower. 417 Similarly, Culpepper (2007: 138) states: “[F]or Mark Jesus himself was the secret of the kingdom of God, and the text to be interpreted was the words of Jesus....” 418 In Mk 1.29–31 Peter’s mother-in-law and, presumably, others from the household are present. NB more than the Twelve are present in 4.35–41. What precedes (4.10, 33–34) presupposes the larger body of disciples (cf. πλοῖα; 4.36). 419 There is neither reporting of the event as an aspect of a formal response here, nor reporting of it elsewhere in the narrative (and, thus, outside of a response). 420 The parallel is with Jonah 1.4–16. See Chapter Seven, below. 421 Taylor (2011: 116) observes: “[T]he story... takes place, on the whole, on a realistic level....” On Frye’s definition of “myth” see above, n. 36. 422 This is a natural corollary to the use of a mythic level of narration; see above, n. 421. 423 Many note the contrast of faith and fear in the four stories of Mk 4.35–5.43 (see 4.40; 5.33–34, 36). It is important, but not overarching and guiding. Equating this contrast with a juxtaposition of the non-follower suppliants and the disciples (Tolbert 1989: 164– 171; cf. Rhoads et al. 1999: 133) is unwarranted. The presence (4.40–41; 5.15, 33) or

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

143

public miracle story (1.27–28), on account of the shared elements (emotional and verbal – reporting is absent here) and similar utterance: (a) question(s), 424 with similar content and shared vocabulary (ὑπακοῦσαι). 425 The fear (in the response) is best understood, it seems, as both positive and negative – positive in that it recalls the sailors’ response in Jonah 1, 426 negative in that it is coloured by the disciples’ inadequate statement or, rather, question. 427 The great fear takes the place of the great wind, which turned into a great calm. 428 The heightened focus on Jesus’ identity can be seen in the greater kind of miracle coupled with the type of question left hanging off the disciples’ lips at the story’s end. 429 The question is raised for the audience as to whether the disciples will fare better than the crowd in identifying Jesus. The odds are, on the one hand, in their favour, as they have been privy to a more powerful miracle, an epiphany. This is especially true following the teaching material, which stresses their access to the mystery of the kingdom. 430 Focalisation through the disciples, too, aids the audience in identifying with them and thereby fans the hope that they will succeed. 431 Yet, on the other hand, in Jesus’ comments (4.40) “a level of opposition” arises for the first time between Jesus and his followers (Broadhead 1992: 94). Nevertheless, perhaps the audience’s sympathy is to remain with the disciples; their inadequate response might be excused on account of their experiencing a miracle, mythithreat (5.36) of fear is common to disciples and non-disciples in these miracle stories – and elsewhere. 424 Note that the other set of similar questions made between Mk 1.27 and 4.41 – τί οὗτος οὕτως λαλεῖ; βλασφημεῖ· τίς δύναται ἀφιέναι ἁμαρτίας εἰ μὴ εἷς ὁ θεός; 2.7) – also in a miracle story, are not given in a response or by characters that are respondents in the episode, but in the middle of story, by Jesus’ opponents, the scribes, spoken internally. 425 Key shared vocabulary – ἐπιτιμῆσαι, φιμῶσαι, ὑπακοῦσαι – unites the stories on the theme of Jesus’ authority, but do not render Mk 4.35–41 an “exorcism” story (contra, e.g., Broadhead 1992: 94–96 and Dwyer 1996: 108–109). 426 See Chapter Seven on the parallel. 427 On the inadequacy of the question see Theissen (1974: 212). The contrast between fear (τί δειλοί ἐστε;) and faith (οὔπω ἔχετε πίστιν;) in Jesus’ words (4.40) is clear (see above, n. 423). But it is likely not the only factor at work. The fear in 4.41 is a response to the miracle, not the storm (Dwyer 1996: 110–111; Culpepper 2007: 156). So the fear’s negative sense comes not from a contrast with faith, but the unsatisfactory verbal response. Note, Broadhead (1992: 96–97), too, mutatis mutandis finds a dual nature for fear here. 428 Gradl (2013: 258): “Der See liegt ruhig. Die Jünger sind aufgewühlt.” 429 So Culpepper (2007: 153): owing to its superior quality, “the stilling of the storm... focuses the question of his identity (‘Who then is this?’ 4:41) even more sharply.” See also Broadhead (1992: 94, 96, 97). 430 Note though Mk 4.35 has two adverbials for time neither are fronted. Rather the pericope begins with καί and a verb, indicating the author’s choice to represent continuity with the foregoing, a link that should not be missed. 431 Similarly, Fowler 1981: 67.

144

Chapter 2: Mark

cally portrayed, unlike anything Jesus has previously performed. This response, then, is to some extent like the first (1.27–28) in that it sets a bar for future, private miracles. IX. Mark 5.14–17, 5.20 The monumental exorcism that follows (5.1–20) – the greatest public 432 miracle yet – is a lengthy story involving three scenes. The first scene closely links the story to Jesus’ first miracle, though the threat, confession – “son of the most high God” (i.e. the second and final instance of unclean spirits’ correct recognition of the protagonist 5.7) – verbal exchange and deliverance are greater. 433 The entire second scene is the response of the pig herders and inhabitants of the region. The lengthiest and most complex in the Gospel, the response includes five elements, 434 a number of which are mentioned more than once – it begins with flight (5.14–17): 435 καὶ οἱ βόσκοντες αὐτοὺς ἔφυγον καὶ ἀπήγγειλαν εἰς τὴν πόλιν καὶ εἰς τοὺς ἀγρούς· καὶ ἦλθον ἰδεῖν τί ἐστιν τὸ γεγονὸς καὶ ἔρχονται πρὸς τὸν Ἰησοῦν καὶ θεωροῦσιν τὸν δαιμονιζόμενον καθήμενον ἱματισμένον καὶ σωφρονοῦντα, τὸν ἐσχηκότα τὸν λεγιῶνα, καὶ ἐφοβήθησαν. καὶ διηγήσαντο αὐτοῖς οἱ ἰδόντες πῶς ἐγένετο τῷ δαιμονιζομένῳ καὶ περὶ τῶν χοίρων. καὶ ἤρξαντο παρακαλεῖν αὐτὸν ἀπελθεῖν ἀπὸ τῶν ὁρίων αὐτῶν.

This Gadarene crowd’s negative response is and will remain, 436 second only to the scribes’ (3.6). Fear is the corollary emotion. 437 The response is contrasted with: the better response to the first exorcism (1.27–28) and, in the 432

Not all four miracles of Mk 4.35–5.43 are escalating in terms of the magnificence of power displayed, contrary to the claims of some. The second through fourth stories do display this development to some extent. (The exorcism in Mk 5.1–20 is greater than earlier healings, owing to the severity of possession; a healing through mere touch, without Jesus’ conscious consent, follows; and, finally, a resurrection occurs.) The first story, however, is of a different type from the others and greater even than the story of the child’s resurrection. The levels of narration employed in the respective stories confirms this assessment (Taylor 2011: 115–116, 130–132). 433 Mk 5.1–20 is one of four exorcism stories (cf. 7.24–30; 9.14–29). In only it and 1.21–28 does Jesus dialogue with the demoniac, including similar vocabulary and phrasing (1.24; 5.7) (cf. Dwyer 1996: 112). 434 Note this is the second time that the element of seeing occurs (3 occurrences here). 435 Broadhead (1992: 99), too, sees Mk 5.14–17 as one response (“the crowd [sic] responds”). 436 Next in line as negative reactions are Mk 3.21, 31–32; and 6.2–3, 5–6. 437 This fear may have some positive aspect – i.e. respect of the powerful feat accomplished in the ex-demoniac (cf. Dwyer 1996: 113–114). Ultimately, however, fear is negative here, since it leads to a rejection of Jesus (so Broadhead 1992: 99). (Dwyer [1996: 114] claims the fear “occurs before they [the crowd] have even heard about the loss of the pigs.” But pig herders, specifically, bring them news in Mk 5.14. Surely one is not to assume they neglect to mention the loss of the pigs.)

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

145

present story, the positive second response and Legion’s own recognition of Jesus. 438 These respondents fail to adequately answer the question posed by the disciples in the preceding story. 439 Notably, the local Gadarene crowd consists of Gentiles. In the third scene, the recipient and those who hear his report (also Gentiles) give a response consisting of reporting and emotional elements (5.20): καὶ ἀπῆλθεν καὶ ἤρξατο κηρύσσειν ἐν τῇ Δεκαπόλει ὅσα ἐποίησεν αὐτῷ ὁ Ἰησοῦς, καὶ πάντες ἐθαύμαζον. The ex-demoniac is the first individual character to respond since chapter one. He succeeds where the exleper failed (1.45): he obeys Jesus’ command to bring the report to where he is told. 440 He is simultaneously portrayed much like a successful disciple. 441 The generic Decapolis crowd responds similarly to, though less elaborately than, the crowd(s) in 1.27–28, and 2.12c, the last word of the story being ἐθαύμαζον. A good deal of tension is released. Still, hearers/readers expect a greater reaction to Jesus than this to occur at some point, while the question posed in the disciples’ recent response (4.41) still rings in the air. 442 X. Mark 5.33 and 5.42d The next two stories are interwoven (5.21–43) – each miracle, in turn, outdoing the miracles for non-followers that have preceded. 443 The intercalated story, the healing of the woman with the hemorrhage, contains a response whose delayed entry serves to slow down the narrative. The story, initially focalised through the clandestine suppliant, draws the hearers/readers in to identify with her in her plight and hopes – and, later, her fear. The function of the response here is unlike that in any previous (or subsequent) story. The healing, procured in relative secrecy, is followed by a statement indicating the woman’s perception of it (5.29b). The statement does not come across as a response. 444 Rather, the absence of such a response, usually following im438 The other correct identification of Jesus by demons (Mk 3.11) contrasts 3.6, being in close proximity. 439 So, too, Theissen 1974: 212. 440 His fulfillment of the command may be seen as hyperbolic. This interpretation seems more likely than a form of disobedience here – similarly see Malbon (2009: 72, 136–137). If Mk 1.31c is not a response, then the connection between the ex-demoniac here and the ex-leper is closer, being the only two individual respondents by this point. 441 So, e.g., Broadhead (1990: 100) and Culpepper (2007: 170–171), especially on the switch from ἀπαγγεῖλαι (Mk 5.19) to κηρύξαι (5.20; cf. 3.14, 6.12). Note that κηρύξαι is also used in the ex-leper’s response (1.45a). There is no complexity or penetration into inner life, only development in the ex-demoniac’s characterisation. 442 So, too, Theissen 1974: 212. 443 See above, n. 432. 444 No response or possibly one (Mk 1.31c) in previous stories has consisted of just one element and the cognitive element has not yet occurred in any response.

146

Chapter 2: Mark

mediately upon the miracle, creates suspense. Will the recipient not say or do something? (No one else can respond, because no one else, besides Jesus, knows a healing took place.) The narrator, accessing Jesus’ thoughts (5.30), takes up again the familiar role as focaliser. Jesus’ insistence to know who touched him raises the level of suspense. Additionally, the delay here creates suspense for the outer story of the intercalation, as the illness of Jairus’ daughter has brought her to the brink of death and Jesus should be rushing to heal her. Finally, the woman responds (5.33): ἡ δὲ γυνὴ φοβηθεῖσα καὶ τρέμουσα, εἰδυῖα ὃ γέγονεν αὐτῇ, ἦλθεν καὶ προσέπεσεν αὐτῷ καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ πᾶσαν τὴν ἀλήθειαν.

Unlike in the previous two stories containing responses of fear, here the emotion expresses an expectation of potential chastisement. 445 The negative spin put on the fear, in addition to the large number of elements (five), causes the response to bear some similarity to the negative response in the preceding miracle story. On the other hand, her coming to Jesus falling in front of him and telling him what he sought to know demonstrates positive traits. They also lie in stark contrast to the Gadarene crowds’ coming to Jesus and asking him to leave! The story’s return to narrator-focalisation may already indicate that a more positive outcome is to be expected, since Jesus is now active and he, surely, cannot fail in his quest. The woman’s composite characterisation, both in the response and elsewhere, is complex, the story concluding with Jesus’ affirmation of her faith. 446 This faith finds a contrast, initially, and is then built upon in the enveloping story. The greater faith demanded ironically from Jairus now, his daughter dead, takes its lead from the woman’s exceptional characteristic. 447 The resulting, essentially private miracle evokes a response containing one sole 445

Similarly, Broadhead (1990: 105, 108). For a different reading see Dwyer (1996: 118–119). 446 She is brave and has great faith to approach Jesus in a crowded public area as an unclean person and to touch him, expecting that even touching his clothing unawares will bring her healing. Still, significantly, she initially avoids having to meet Jesus face-to-face. This contrasts with, e.g., Jairus, Bartimaeus, the paralytic’s friends and the socially powerless leper, all of whom boldly approach Jesus to make their request. Perhaps she does not understand his compassion as she does his power. Nevertheless, she is brave, honest and, perhaps, confident in Jesus enough to step forward and divulge her secret, when her deed is found out, though she approaches full of fear. This complexity of characterisation is lost on many interpreters (Tolbert 1989: 164–165, 169–170; Broadhead 1990: 110–111; Shepherd 1995: 529–530; Dwyer 1996: 118–120; Rhoads et al. 1999: 130–133; Malbon 2000: 50– 51). 447 Similarly Edwards (1989: 205) sees the woman’s faith as “the key to its [the intercalation’s] interpretation.” Cf. Shepherd (1995: 529–530, 539) who views Jairus as contrasted somewhat negatively with the woman.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

147

element (5.42d) – καὶ ἐξέστησαν [εὐθὺς] ἐκστάσει μεγάλῃ – the greatest expression yet of non-followers’ emotion. The three named followers are probably among the respondents. 448 Still the focus remains largely on Jairus. 449 For the narrator, even this heightened response is inadequate – the respondents’ view of Jesus has not reached that of the unclean spirits. 450 The disciples’ question remains unanswered. 451 The story ends with Jesus’ insistence on silence and request to give food to the girl. Both the magnitude of the miracle and the extremity of the response highlight this deed as Jesus’ greatest to date in the presence of non-followers. It is, interestingly, the second miracle story to have a direct parallel in the Jewish Scriptures. 452 On account of his faith Jairus is portrayed favourably over-all, despite the inadequacy of the response. XI. Intervening material The anticlimax (or anti-peak, reserving “climax” for just one moment in the narrative), which follows thereafter in the synagogue of Jesus’ hometown (Mk 6.1–6a), begins with everyone’s amazement at his teaching. 453 Then questions arise as to his all-too-familiar identity. 454 In an ironic turn of events, the episode, concluding in a summary of miracles (6.5), ends in Jesus’ amazement (6.6a) at the lack of faith of his hometown compatriots, on account of which he can do few miracles indeed. 455 With this episode, therefore, the narrative rounds out the last of the reactions to Jesus on the negative end. 456 The occurrence of an inclusio of amazement (6.2, 6a), situated in a

448

So Broadhead 1990: 107; Dwyer 1996: 120. Note he is mentioned first in Mk 5.40 (Peter, James and John are referred to collectively: τοὺς μετ᾿ αὐτοῦ). Also of the respondents, he is the only one central to the story, the only one mentioned in the first half of the story (5.21–24). 450 Contra, in different ways, Broadhead (1990: 107, 111–112) and Dwyer (1990: 120). 451 So, too, Theissen 1974: 212. 452 See Chapter Seven. 453 Mk 6.2b: καὶ πολλοὶ ἀκούοντες ἐξεπλήσσοντο λέγοντες· πόθεν τούτῳ ταῦτα, καὶ τίς ἡ σοφία ἡ δοθεῖσα τούτῳ, καὶ αἱ δυνάμεις τοιαῦται διὰ τῶν χειρῶν αὐτοῦ γινόμεναι; The last two sentences (Mk 6.5–6a) “pick up language Mark used in the two sandwiched miracle stories that precede it,” (Culpepper 2007: 192) – δύναμις, ἐπιθεῖναι τὰς χεῖρας, ἀπιστία; cf. Dwyer (1996: 121). 454 Such questioning echoes the disciples’ question in Mk 4.41 (cf. Theissen 1974: 212). 455 Mk 6.6a – καὶ ἐθαύμαζεν διὰ τὴν ἀπιστίαν αὐτῶν – is, thus, quite comparable to the formal responses under consideration, the difference being that the specific story contains only a summary of miracles. On the irony, see Malbon (2009: 68); cf. Broadhead (1992: 115). 456 At the extreme are the opponents who want to kill him; next are some Gentiles who want nothing to do with him, despite having witnessed the effects of his liberating power; 449

148

Chapter 2: Mark

synagogue, with Jesus’ teaching and miracles in focus, recalls the first story of Jesus’ public ministry. 457 The episode, therefore, brings Mk 1.21–6.6a, being in some sense a section on its own, 458 to a close. A variety of formal responses and other reactions to Jesus have been added in Mk 3.7–6.6a to those seen earlier – from the disciples, Jesus’ family (a reaction), a specific Gentile crowd, a formerly severely demon-possessed Gentile, a larger Gentile crowd, a healed woman, Jairus, the synagogue ruler, and his wife (and three followers), and Jesus’ hometown (a reaction). Noticeably, the Galilean crowd and Jesus’ opponents do not feature in responses in this section, though their posture towards Jesus is still elaborated in some respect. A new section, with a focus on Jesus’ interaction with the Twelve, in addition to various crowds, suppliants and opponents, probably begins at Mark 6.6b. 459 The section leads to the turning point. First is an intercalation, regarding John the Baptiser’s death and the mission of the Twelve (6.6b–34). 460 The Twelve themselves are now authorised and sent to proclaim Jesus’ teaching about the kingdom of God and to exorcise demons and perform other

and then follow those familiar with him, yet skeptical and unbelieving, who nevertheless still derive some benefit from him. 457 Dwyer (1996: 121) notes some similarities. They bolster the proposed response motif inversion in Mk 6.6. 458 I have already claimed, along with others, that 1.14–3.6 and 3.7–6.6a are the first two sections. Nevertheless, it seems that there are grounds for seeing a complementary, in some sense overlapping, structure for the initial stories of the public ministry of Jesus: 1.21–6.6a – with stories of healings in synagogues on the Sabbath, involving key responses, appearing at the beginning (1.21–28), approximately the middle (3.1–6) and end (6.1– 6a). 459 In addition to thematic discontinuity, the aid of formal features in identifying the new section is limited. Unlike Mk 1.14 and 3.7, no formal feature indicates discontinuity in 6.6b (begins with καὶ περιῆγεν). Yet, 6.6a, the proposed close of the previous section, shares being an unusual and extreme variation on the motif of responses to miracles (Jesus’ surprise) with 3.6 (opponents’ plotting to destroy him), which closes the first section. This similarity has not been noted, to my knowledge, though the related themes of rejection/disbelief in the episodes are widely recognised. The less likely option for a section break, 6.1, also has a sentence-initial verb and minimal participant reference (καὶ ἐξῆλθεν). (A section break at 6.30 is unlikely, as it would sever the intercalation of Mk 6.6b–34.) 460 Typically the intertwined stories are seen as Mk 6.6b (or 7)–32 (e.g. Shepherd 1995: 522). However, only in 6.35 does a break appear (a fronted reference to change in time). At any rate, the second half of the intercalation’s outer story (whether 6.30–32 or 6.30–34) is somewhat independent of the first half – something unique in intercalations in Mk – as it is also the opening of or, perhaps, transition to the next episode.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

149

healings. They, too, are to expect varied responses (6.11). 461 The focus seen here on the Twelve and, generally, the followers only increases as the narrative approaches the turning point. Sandwiched in the middle is a story of just how extreme negative reactions can get, Herod’s execution of Jesus’ forerunner. Yet Herod is portrayed as complex, for he also has genuine awe for John and both is greatly perplexed by and enjoys John’s teaching. 462 This provides further foreshadowing of the book’s climax, as well as prefiguring Jesus’ radical call to discipleship, based on a self-revelation, in the turning point. 463 The concluding part of the intercalation, including the Twelve’s report of their mission (6.30–34) begins or leads into the story relating Jesus’ quantitatively greatest miracle, the feeding of the 5000 (6.35–46). Though the story is narrated at length and in detail – focusing on Jesus’ interaction with his disciples 464 – notably there is no response. 465 The episode ends with statements about everyone eating their fill, there being food left over and, finally, the disclosure of the breath-taking number of beneficiaries. The story has a clear parallel in the Scriptures. 466 It is the first public miracle story with such parallelism. This fact, alongside the magnitude of the miracle, would purport to make the greatest claim in a public context of Jesus’ stature as a miracle worker. Yet it is precisely here that one hears the crowd’s silence. It would seem the possibility of having the crowd respond is passed over by the narrator. Its absence indicates a lack of perception on the part of the masses to properly identify Jesus. 467 This notion is corroborated by that, later, this and the other feeding miracle become loci for criticism of faulty understanding (6.52; 8.14–21; cf. 8.11–13). 461 No reactions (response-like motifs) accompany the summary of exorcisms and healings they perform (Mk 6.13). 462 Notably, though John performs no miracles, Herod is the one character with authority in the narrative who shows awe (ὁ γὰρ Ἡρῴδης ἐφοβεῖτο τὸν Ἰωάννην, εἰδὼς αὐτὸν ἄνδρα δίκαιον καὶ ἅγιον; 6.20a) to either Jesus or John. I agree with Dwyer (1996: 127) that “a mixture of emotions marked the hearers of God’s messengers,” though not, with respect to the authorities, that “a holy awe surrounded both of them.” On various religious authorities’ dissimilar reactions of fear (Mk 11.18; conceived of negatively) and amazement (12.17; somewhat positive) to Jesus, see below. 463 Similarly, see Shepherd (1995: 539) and Culpepper (2007: 198). 464 Cf. Broadhead 1990: 121. 465 Only two previous miracle stories potentially lack responses: the opening epiphany story and, possibly, the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law. Explanations have been offered for the absences; see above. 466 See Chapter Seven. 467 Broadhead (1990: 123), too, takes 6.45–46 to be the end, claiming, “The concluding focus on prayer, calling and revelation rather than on acclamation of the miracle worker provides a guide to the identity of Jesus.” The view has some merit. But, the change of characters in these verses shows they more likely mark the opening of a new episode.

150

Chapter 2: Mark

XII. Mark 6.49–50b and 6.51c–52 Thereafter followers again find themselves in a private situation encountering Jesus’ power over forces of the sea in a tempest (6.47–52), with the level of narration approaching the mythic 468 and scriptural parallelism in view. 469 Now, however, with the Twelve 470 alone present, Jesus is seen as more uncanny, more powerful: he walks on the water. The epiphanic element is, thus, stronger. As the episode is focalised through Jesus initially (6.45–48), the audience sees Jesus’ mythic feat, experiencing whatever sense of surprise or shock they may feel, before the disciples are aware of anything. Thus, unlike in 4.35–41, the audience is brought to view the followers’ response from a more privileged position. 471 The narrator becomes the focaliser again, just as the followers’ response (6.49–50b) is given, 472 raised a few decibels to match the greater nature of the feat: 468 Taylor, commenting briefly on the episode (two sentences; cf. two pages on Mk 4.35–41), labels it “practically a ghost story” (2011: 133–134 [133]). The terminology is, presumably, borrowed from Frye (1957: 50), who has “ghost stories” as a “category” of the “low mimetic.” Yet this level of narration is at work only beginning at 6.49, once the Twelve’s ocular sensation and inner thoughts are introduced. It is mixed with the “ironic mode,” the Twelve being “inferior in power or intelligence to ourselves” (Frye 1957: 34). Mk 6.49–52 seems in juxtaposition, therefore, to the preceding description of Jesus’ feat (6.48), cast in the light of similar acts in the Scriptures, notably Exod 14. Full analysis of such parallelism and fuller argumentation for mythic elements is not possible in this study. Still, one point might be made here. Jesus’ initiative to walk on water and intent to pass by the Twelve – no one requests the miracle and in itself it benefits no one – have an air of self-determination, an effect amplified by his being the focaliser. He thus seems portrayed (in some meaningful way) “superior in kind both to other men [sic] and to the environment of other men [sic]” (Frye 1957: 33). Frye (1957: 30) states, “[I]n true myth there can obviously be no consistent distinction between ghosts and living beings.” The play between Jesus’ rather unremarkable perspective on his actions – he does not think, “This is marvelous!” or, “God be praised!” but wishes merely to pass the Twelve – and their perspective, while creating irony, serves to underline for the audience how vastly Jesus’ nature is underestimated. Here too, it seems, Taylor’s (2011: 116) words on 4.35–41 apply: “the story... takes place, on the whole, on a realistic level, but tends towards the mythic,” while recognising the “ghost story” element. 469 On the parallelism, see Chapter Seven. 470 Note there is just one boat for οἱ μαθηταί (6.45; cf. 6.30–32, where one boat serves Jesus and οἱ ἀπόστολοι). 471 Similarly, Fowler 1991: 67–68. Experiencing the story through Jesus’ “inside” view also informs the audience that Jesus was unable to fulfill his intention of passing the Twelve by (Mk 6.48), owing to their response. 472 The Twelve are best understood as focalised – albeit, “from within” (RimmonKenan 2002: 77) – since: (1) too little text is dedicated to their field of vision, emotions and mental processes (see above, n. 272); and (2) use of the articular pronoun in Mk 6.49a (as a reply to Jesus’ act in 6.48a [note HP]) and 6.50c makes this part of the interaction

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

151

οἱ δὲ ἰδόντες αὐτὸν ἐπὶ τῆς θαλάσσης περιπατοῦντα ἔδοξαν ὅτι φάντασμά ἐστιν, καὶ ἀνέκραξαν· πάντες γὰρ αὐτὸν εἶδον καὶ ἐταράχθησαν.

Here a number of elements (four) join together, involving a measure of semantic redundancy for emphasis, which focus on their act of screaming. 473 Their being disturbed or thrown into confusion – the only instance of ταραχθῆναι and its cognates in Mark – is made explicit in a supporting sentence, explaining the nature of their outburst. While the audience may well have anticipated that the Twelve would have an extreme response to seeing Jesus, their misidentification of him may come as a surprise. This turn of events highlights, on the one hand, the bewildering power exercised by Jesus and, on the other, the great divide between Jesus’ identity as revealed to the audience and as understood by the Twelve. 474 In reply Jesus tells them to have courage and not to fear, he enters the boat and the storm ceases. Thereupon a statement of the Twelve’s response of an emotional and cognitive nature (6.51c–52) follows: καὶ λείαν ἐν ἑαυτοῖς ἐξείσταντο· οὐ γὰρ συνῆκαν ἐπὶ τοῖς ἄρτοις, ἀλλ᾿ ἦν αὐτῶν ἡ καρδία πεπωρωμένη. 475 The narrator’s comment on the inadequate status of the Twelve’s heart clearly casts the amazement in a negative light. 476 This is the first time that respondents have two responses in a single episode. 477 Their poor performance, therefore, is underscored. Despite Jesus’ would-be remedial self-identification, the Twelve’s amazement betrays continued misunderstanding. Like the disciples in a storm, previously, and like their outsider counterparts in less dramatic contexts, the Twelve fail to recognise Jesus for between Jesus and the Twelve (note also the HP in 6.50d) intermediate steps en route to a goal, in this case the peak of the episode (6.51a–b), in which the Twelve are not the subject. On this use of the articular pronoun see n. 301, above. 473 The redundancy is with respect to Mk 6.48a (...ἔρχεται πρὸς αὐτοὺς περιπατῶν ἐπὶ τῆς θαλάσσης). On tail-head linkage as a forward-pointing device, see Runge (2010: 163– 177). The screaming, the only such instance of the verbal element, might be better labeled vocal (and non-verbal). It is more indicative of an emotion, it seems, than of an attempt at communication. So some leeway of categorisation is needed here. 474 Fowler (1991: 67–68 [67]), failing to recognise the magnified portrayal of Jesus’ exercise of power in the stilling of the storm’s “companion story,” wrongly has the audience feeling no empathy for the Twelve by Mk 6.49. The greater display of power mitigates the extent of the audience’s censure of the disciples’ initial response. Broadhead (1990: 125– 126) also equates the two emotions of 6.50b and 6.51c, calling them both “fear” and viewing them in an equally negative light. 475 If the original text includes ἐκ περισσοῦ, which is unlikely (see above, n. 114), then the emotional response is greater than that in Mk 4.41 and 5.42d. 476 So, too, Theissen 1974: 170, 212. The critique, bearing similarity to Jesus’ early criticism of his opponents (Mk 2.6, 8; 3.5; cf. 7.6, 10.5), is sharp. 477 Earlier, Mk 5.1–20 contains two formal responses, with different characters (groups) as respondents (2 in each).

152

Chapter 2: Mark

who he is. 478 Far more than amazement is required from them, 479 though the audience’s criticism should not be scathing. 480 XIII. Intervening material In the earlier collection of four miracle stories the more powerful miracle, which was private and for followers, was related first and the greatest miracle for non-followers, last. Here the order is reversed. The switch seems to point in the direction the narrative is taking. Until roughly this point the public teaching and miracles have had centre stage – in fact by the stilling of the storm teaching and miracles to which the disciples alone are privy had just been introduced. Now the emphasis turns increasingly toward the private relationship between established followers, notably the Twelve, and Jesus. Note that in both collections of miracles the qualitatively and now also quantitatively greatest miracles for non-followers have occurred. In the resurrection of Jairus’ daughter, however, there was an extreme emotional response; in the feeding of the 5000, no response at all. Thereafter comes a summary description of the hordes that bring their sick from the surrounding area to Jesus to be healed, wherever he goes (6.53–56). No reaction to the healings is described. 481 The following material (7.1–23) constitutes the second instance of extensive teaching, now in the context of conflict with the Pharisees. 482 A focus on the Twelve again is evident (7.17– 23). 483 478

Similarly, Broadhead 1990: 141. A further pattern can be seen. The Galilean crowd and followers both initially respond in miracle stories emotionally with a question referring to command and obedience (Mk 1.27; 4.41) and next emotionally, but no longer with a question (2.12c; 6.51c). 479 The audience may have expected the Twelve would affirm here, “You are the Son of God” (cf. Mt 14.33). 480 Contra Fowler 1991: 68–69. I read this episode and its responses, not only “against the backdrop of an earlier, similar episode” (Fowler 1991: 68), though it is crucial, but also against that of other miracle stories and responses. The response here, while clearly to be criticised, is superior to many others so far (e.g. Mk 3.6; 5.14–17; cf. 6.6a). Dwyer (1996: 133–134) argues the final response is purely positive. The weakness of his argument is his understanding of γάρ in 6.52, which, contrary to his claim, supports 6.51c specifically. Γάρ can provide supporting material for non-contiguous sentences (e.g. 16.3– 4), but this is when context precludes it from relating to a contiguous sentence. 481 Broadhead (1990: 128) suggests that, thus, the pericope “highlights the onrushing crowd with its unadorned expectation of miracles.” This is possible. Reactions, however, never occur in summaries of miracles, only of teachings, as I discussed above (see nn. 94, 105 and 122). 482 The first is Mk 4.1–34; cf. also the teaching material in 2.1–3.6 ; 6.7–11. 483 It is less clear that οἱ μαθηταί here are the Twelve. They may be, simply, the disciples.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

153

Two miracle stories follow – one in the region of Tyre, the other, likely, in the Decapolis. The first is a private exorcism, the second, seemingly, a semiprivate healing that is soon widely broadcast. The first healing story is unique, in that the healing itself is not narrated, only its effects. 484 Rather, the mother, upon returning home, finds her child saved from the plaguing spirit. The absence of a response here may be due to one or more factors, including focused attention on the exchange between Jesus and the petitioner – which brings the issue of the Gentiles to the fore. 485 XIV. Mark 7.36b–37 At any rate, the response (7.36b–37) to the healing contains reporting, by the companions of the healed man (and the man himself [?]), and an extreme 486 expression of emotion, on the part of auditors, accompanied by verbal articulation of general and unreserved acclamation of Jesus’ miraculous deeds: ὅσον δὲ αὐτοῖς διεστέλλετο, αὐτοὶ μᾶλλον περισσότερον ἐκήρυσσον. καὶ ὑπερπερισσῶς ἐξεπλήσσοντο λέγοντες· καλῶς πάντα πεποίηκεν, καὶ τοὺς κωφοὺς ποιεῖ ἀκούειν καὶ [τοὺς] ἀλάλους λαλεῖν.

Thus a Gentile crowd, like the Galilean one (2.12c), affirms Jesus. In fact, this will be the last time that a crowd responds to Jesus’ miracles. So it may be seen as, in some sense, capping off the positive appreciation of Jesus expressed by various crowds in the first half of the narrative. 487 Still, Jesus is not identified adequately to the narrator’s liking. 488 Again, as with the exleper, the reporting constitutes an act of disobedience. 484

On similar miracles, see n. 319. Similarly see Broadhead (1990: 130–131). The fact that the exorcism itself is not narrated may contribute to the absence of the response motif; though, see Mk 5.15. It is just possible that this and the following miracle story are presented as a pair and the response (7.36b–37) to the second provides a kind of conclusion to both. Indeed, it has a similar ending to the healing of the leper (1.45), which also functions, according to some interpreters, as a cap to the series of interrelated episodes, containing notably two miracle stories and a related summary, in Mk 1.21–38. 486 This is perhaps the most extreme expression of emotion (Dwyer 1996: 136), owing to the adverbial. Though, on account of repetition, the emotion expressed in 16.5c and 16.8b,d is also extreme. 487 So Moloney 2002: 150–151. Crowds will still be amazed at Jesus later, though regarding his teaching (9.15; 11.18; cf. 12.17). 488 On the important reference to Isa 35.5–10 in the crowds’ speech see Broadhead (1990: 133) and Marcus (2000–2009: 1:479–481). Dwyer (1996: 137) claims too much: “Amazement in Mark can hardly be interpreted as indicating a lack of understanding or faith in light of 7.37....” The plot-line of Jesus as the “Son of God,” inasmuch as it pertains to his grandeur, has not yet reached its peak. More attention to detail is needed, then, concerning the understanding shown in Mk 7.37. 485

154

Chapter 2: Mark

XV. Intervening material The feeding of the 4000 (Mk 8.1–9), though slightly diminished quantitatively, has much the same form as its earlier parallel. 489 Again, in place of a response come statements of everyone eating and becoming full and of the leftovers and number of recipients. 490 I would suggest that a marked contrast is intended between the response in the preceding miracle story and the absence in this one. The Gentile crowd is portrayed as amazed in the extreme at Jesus’ healings, expressing unlimited affirmation, yet his greatest miracles – and those that liken him to the greatest miracle worker in the Jewish tradition – go unsung, the crowd left unaffected. The fact that such a miracle happens twice, with no response, solidifies this portrayal. 491 Still, both Jewish and Gentile crowds have shared in “bread from the table of the Lord” (Broadhead 1992: 143) in some sense. 492 To my mind the narrator has, with this story, effectively finished characterising the crowds, depicting their relationship to Jesus, in the first half of the narrative. The narrator’s judgment is mixed. They are impressed by and benefit from him; yet, while they think they have identified him completely, they have only succeeded in part. Their failure – though they are not alone in failing – will spell disaster for the protagonist later. This reading seems to find corroboration in the brief following episode (8.10–12). The Pharisees, pitted as Jesus opponents generally, demand a sign from heaven, ostensibly to validate his activity. Jesus, apparently exasperated, having proclaimed that no sign will be given, leaves them. The audience would be aware that the sign had just been given. Thus, Jesus’ words seem to interpret his miracles in a way similar to his parables – the outsider cannot understand. The irony, which comes in the following episode (8.13–21), is that the Twelve themselves, the alleged most privileged insiders, also do not understand the meaning of the two provisions of bread. What follows is the only healing executed in two phases. The blind person’s healing (8.22–26) seems to symbolise the followers’ need for multiple

489

Cf. Marcus 2000–2009: 1:491. Alternatively, a final statement (Mk 8.10) describes Jesus entering into a boat with the Twelve and traveling (e.g. Broadhead 1990: 134–137). Still, it seems better to see 8.10–11 as together introducing a new location and new participants. 491 Some note only the Jewish-Gentile contrast, e.g. Broadhead (1990: 136–137). Like Fowler (1981: 99) I see that the second story in the “matched pair of stories” is to be read keenly in light of the former. His focus is on the ironic and negative portrayal of the disciples, mine is on the portrayal of the crowds. The added irony of the silence in Mk 8.1–9 is that a Gentile crowd has recently affirmed Jesus’ ministry with language from Isaiah; see above, n. 488. 492 Cf. also Collins 2007: 379–380; Marcus 2000–2009: 496–497. 490

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

155

efforts on Jesus’ part in order to open their eyes to who he is. 493 For this reason, though the miracle is public I would argue, along with many others, that the miracle pertains in fact not to relationship of the crowds or even the man to Jesus, but that of the followers to him. In such a context, the absence of a response is fitting. 494 Two episodes follow (Mk 8.27–9.1; 9.2–13) which jointly comprise the turning point of the narrative. 495 In both there is a key revelation of Jesus’ 493

Cf. Broadhead 1990: 138–139, 144. The episode’s concluding sentence relates Jesus’ sending the recipient away, forbidding him to go into the town, presumably to spread the news of the healing (Mk 8.26). 495 Morrison (2008) makes the most detailed case for taking these two episodes, jointly, as the turning point. The strongest arguments he gives are the following shared thematic features: the central focus on the revelation of Jesus’ true identity; passion and resurrection predictions (8.31 [cf. 34–35]; 9.9, 10, 12); Peter as a major character; the involvement of John the Baptiser and Elijah (and a prophet/Moses, though I find this less convincing); and the secrecy motif (8.30; 9.9). Note also the order of these features: “In both cases, the command to silence appears on the heels of a revelation about Jesus’ true identity (8:29; 9:7)” (Morrison 2008: 123). Fewer of the features Morrison (2008: 118) presents under the heading “shared vocabulary and syntactical construction” are noteworthy – ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου (8.31, 38; 9.9, 12); πολλὰ παθεῖν (8.31; 9.12); ἀναστῆναι (8.31; 9.10); αὐτοῖς ἵνα μηδενί (8.30; 9.9). Morrison (2008: 120, 150) discusses ἀποκριθείς... λέγει in 8.29b and 9.5, but fails to see the greater verbal parallelism – ἀποκριθεὶς ὁ Πέτρος λέγει αὐτῷ; καὶ ἀποκριθεὶς ὁ Πέτρος λέγει τῷ Ἰησοῦ (in both cases the use of a full noun phrase is necessitated by participant reactivation) – and its import. Runge observes that the discourse function of “redundant quotative frames” (the “use of extra verbs of speaking to ‘frame’ or introduce a speech”) when “changes of speaker and hearer” occur is “either to signal a change in direction of the speech or to highlight the salient speech of the discourse” (2010: 145, 152). (“The choice to use a second verb has the effect of slowing the discourse like a speed bump, attracting attention to what follows” [Runge 2000: 154].) Levinsohn (2000: 233) argues that in Mk, when a participle form of ἀποκριθῆναι is followed by a finite verb, “the speaker responds to a verbal or non-verbal stimulus by attempting to take control of the conversation.” This seems to be happening in both 8.29b and 9.5. The HP points forward to something following the utterance concerned. The similar context in which this verbal and functional parallelism occurs is of greater interest. In both cases, a statement made by Peter at a moment fraught with suspense is followed by a speech of an authoritative character (Jesus: 8.30–32a; the heavenly voice: 9.7b), addressing Jesus’ identity, which serves as a corrective. It could be further added to Morrison’s list of shared features that in neither episode do the disciples comprehend what is revealed to them about Jesus (8.32b–33; 9.8, on which see below). Also, I would want to specify that both episodes point to the end of the narrative (cf. ἀναστῆναι [8.31; 9.10]). Finally, the opening sentence of both episodes has a full noun phrase (8.27; 9.2) in reference to Jesus, indicating in each case a “major break” in the overall narrative (Levinsohn 2000: 278). This phenomenon (“a high-level boundary” in two successive episodes) is not only unique in Mk (cf. above, n. 356), thus further bringing the stories together. It may also function, I suggest, to mark these episodes jointly as a transitional moment of special significance in the discourse. 494

156

Chapter 2: Mark

identity. 496 In the first, Jesus’ inquiry of others’ and his followers’ opinions of who he is elicits Peter’s remarkable confession, “σὺ εἶ ὁ χριστός” (8.29). Yet, the key revelation that Jesus is God’s son is missing; also, with little delay, the confession is portrayed as inadequate on more explicit grounds. 497 For immediately Jesus begins to radically modify the followers’ understanding of what the Messiah is (8.31). The Son of Humanity must suffer, be rejected, be killed and rise from the dead. It comes to such a conflict, that Peter, in his confrontation with Jesus, is depicted as representing the forces of the Satan (8.33) – a conflict laid out at the narrative’s beginning. This key revelation will guide the plot until the climax and, further, the close of the narrative. 498 XVI. Mark 9.5–6 and 9.8 The transfiguration (9.2–8) – I will address its aftermath (9.9–13) below – is similar to the two preceding rescue nature miracles. 499 It is a private miracle for established followers, utilising in part a mythic level of narration 500 and having: epiphanic elements, a response containing the emotion of fear and a parallel in the Scriptures. Yet it sets itself apart from these miracle stories – and all others, bracketing for the moment the opening epiphany story (Mk 1.2–11) – in numerous ways: extreme exclusivity (only three followers are present); an even more remote location; no (additional) miraculous ele-

496 Morrison argues for a “Janus approach”: “The two ‘faces’ – Peter’s confession of Jesus as ὁ χριστός and the divine declaration of Jesus as ὁ υἱός μου ὁ ἀγαπητός – stand, as it were, back-to-back and look out over the narrative, one backward, the other forward” (2008: 115, 116). I see the relationship of the two parts of the turning point as being more complicated. See below. 497 So, too, Theissen 1974: 213. 498 Thus, contrary to Morrison (see above, n. 496), Mk 8.27–9.1 has more to do with what will unfold in the narrative following the turning point. Of course Peter’s confession does link the episode to the title (1.1). 499 I have called Mk 9.2–13 an episode above. This seems best, given: the continuity of many of the participants (Jesus and his three followers); same location (a mountain); the continuity of theme (especially Jesus’ speech in 9.9); and the way 9.9–13 is linked to the foregoing, i.e. by means of a fronted genitive absolute construction in 9.9 (see Runge [2010: 256–261]). Still there is enough distinctive topical material in the transfiguration (9.2–8) to analyse this scene on its own. Despite some resultant incongruity in my use of terminology I have called it (and not 9.2–13) a “miracle story.” 500 Taylor (2011: 136): “This story clearly belongs nearer the mythic mode than the lower mimetic: for a moment, a window is opened into heaven. Many details belong to the realm of myth... At one point, however, Peter breaks the mythic atmosphere and drags the narrative down to low mimetic or even ironic mode....”

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

157

ment, other than the epiphanic; 501 a change in Jesus’ appearance; the presence of Moses and Elijah; the cloud; and the direct involvement and speech of God. It approaches the mythic level of narration more than any other part of the narrative. 502 It is, thus, the final and most grand in a series of three private miracles for insiders, a series that now reaches its peak in the turning point of the narrative. Related more generally, it is the peak of all of the miracle stories from 1.23 until the turning point. The transfiguration and Jesus’ baptism, too, share significant points of contact. They are both: prominently placed in the narrative (the opening episode; episode within the turning point); epiphany stories; and the episodes with the clearest theophanic element. The speech from God, of course, draws a strong connection between them, too. 503 There is similarity in the content of the utterances and, even, word selection and order (ὁ υἱός μου ὁ ἀγαπητός). 504 Thus the stories in general and God’s words in particular form an inclusio for the first half of the book. 505 The two differences in God’s speech are: the addressee (Jesus: σὺ εἶ [1.11]; followers: οὖτός ἐστιν [9.7]); and the collocated material (ἐν σοὶ εὐδόκησα; ἀκούετε αὐτοῦ). There are also important differences between the stories, more generally. The former story contains only one epiphanic moment (the voice and spirit, like a dove [1.10–11]); the latter contains two (Jesus with Moses and Elijah [9.2–4]; the cloud and voice [9.7]). Related, Jesus is the central focus of the epiphany, initially, in the latter. 506 The former 501 Similarly, Broadhead (1992: 149; cf. 150–151): “In other instances the revelation is veiled in the meeting of a need (6.47–53; 4.35–5.1)” – though, note the miraculous walking in 6.45–62, unlike the calming there, meets no need. 502 Similarly, Taylor 2011: 136. 503 The two episodes are the only instances in the narrative where this character (literally a voice from heaven) acts. (Malbon’s considerations are similar, noting generally, “Most of the references to God occur in the direct speech of the Markan Jesus ... Only twice does the narrator mention God directly... [1.14; 2.12]” [2009: 75–7 (76)]. But God is not active there.) 504 See, similarly, Theissen 1974: 215. Related is the shared use of vocabulary and inflection (ἐγένετο, φωνή, ἐκ): καὶ φωνὴ ἐγένετο ἐκ τῶν οὐρανῶν (Mk 1.11); καὶ ἐγένετο φωνὴ ἐκ τῆς νεφέλης (9.7). 505 I see no problem with identifying overlapping organising devices in the narrative. In the turning point there is, principally, the inclusio of theophany story and divine speech (Mk 1.11 and 9.7) and the related culmination of the miracle stories. There is also the overarching prophecy and fulfillment device, beginning with the first passion-resurrection prediction (8.31) and bringing the narrative to its close. If I were, like Morrison, to employ Janus as a heuristic device, I would have the two parts of the turning point facing, primarily, in the opposite directions. Still, notably, the transfiguration (9.7) and its aftermath (9.9, 12) direct the audience’s attention decidedly “forward,” too. 506 Broadhead (1992: 151) describes “[t]he epiphany of Jesus and the appearance of the heavenly witnesses” as “the center around which the body operates.”

158

Chapter 2: Mark

has a consistent narrator-focaliser, the latter involves character-focalisation, through established followers (as in, also, the first rescue nature miracle; see also the closing epiphany story [16.1–8]). Finally, importantly, what has only been shared between God, Jesus, the narrator and the audience is finally revealed to the three closest followers. 507 Thus, the transfiguration serves as, not only the second half of an inclusio formed with the opening episode, but also, in key respects, a culmination of the tension set up by it. The tension is not ultimately resolved here – a fitting reality for a mid-way-point episode. In total, then, the transfiguration is the peak of the series of private miracle stories for established followers, the miracle stories in general and, in key respects, the first half of the narrative. 508 507

Cf. Tolbert 1989: 204–205; Broadhead 1992: 151. That the divine statement in Mk 9.7 is the peak of the turning-point might be supported by various observations. (A) For a number of reasons the inclusio it forms with 1.11 is superior to the potential inclusio formed by the title (1.1) and Peter’s confession (8.27), which agree one with the other on Jesus being “the Messiah.” First, the authority of God’s statements is greater than that of Peter’s and – to some extent – the narrator’s (Malbon 2009: 77). Second, the parallelism of the two epiphany stories is stronger than that of the title and Peter’s confession, which share only χριστοῦ / ὁ χριστός. Third, many elements in the parallelism between the two epiphany stories – and the development of the plot outlined between them – are uniquely important to the narrative. (B) Other general considerations, may point to a greater importance of the transfiguration over the preceding episode (8.27–9.1) for the narrative overall. First, significantly, the divine voice links the episode, verbally, directly to the climax (15.[37–]39; οὖτος... υἱὸς θεοῦ), while 8.27–9.1 does not. Second, whereas Jesus rebukes Peter in the former story for his misunderstanding of the nature of Jesus’ identity (8.33; cf. 8.30); God himself does this in the latter (9.7). Third, the transfiguration is the peak of the miracle stories in the first half of the narrative. Alternatively, 8.27–9.1 contains, largely, revelations that anticipate or initiate further developments in the plot and, ultimately, the climax: namely, the conception of Jesus’ messiahship is drastically altered; Jesus predicts what will happen at the end of the narrative; Jesus rebukes Peter, the lead disciple, as the Satan, on this new key issue, presenting the ultimate oppositional stance; and Jesus makes the invitation to discipleship based on the reformed conception of messiahship. The aspects of 8.27–9.1 that may be taken as a culmination of earlier developments are, it seems, less than for the transfiguration: a human character first identifies Jesus terminologically (and to some extent conceptually) according to the values of the narrator; Jesus’ willingly reveals his destiny to other characters. Fourth, the transfiguration, generally, may be unique to the narrative in more (important) ways than 8.27–9.1. This point is related, yet distinct from, some of the foregoing points. Notably, as mentioned previously, in the transfiguration human characters, other than Jesus, hear for the first and last time the divine pronouncement that the audience was privy to at the opening of the book. (For other unique aspects of the transfiguration, see previous discussion.) This will not happen again. However, Jesus will again, for example: predict his suffering, death and resurrection; teach his disciples about his inverted values of greatness and service; reveal his identity to human characters (14.62). 508

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

159

How do the responses fit in this narrative? To the first epiphany Peter, just as he is the interlocutor in the preceding episode (8.29, 32), is the one to respond, in speech (9.5–6): καὶ ἀποκριθεὶς ὁ Πέτρος λέγει τῷ Ἰησοῦ· ῥαββεί, καλόν ἐστιν ἡμᾶς ὧδε εἶναι, καὶ ποιήσωμεν τρεῖς σκηνάς, σοὶ μίαν καὶ Μωϋσεῖ μίαν καὶ Ἠλείᾳ μίαν. οὐ γὰρ ᾔδει τί ἀποκριθῇ, ἔκφοβοι γὰρ ἐγένοντο.

His direct discourse, however, is supported by two explanatory statements of his lack of understanding and his – and the other followers’ – fear. The fear is not described as extraordinary. It is the negative cause of Peter’s fumbling verbal response. 509 His verbal response, which evidently betrays, again, some misunderstanding of who Jesus is, leads to further development in the story. Though Peter’s words are directed at Jesus, Jesus does not reply. The appearance of a cloud and a divine pronouncement, “This is my beloved son. Listen to him,” take up a corrective 510 reply to Peter’s response. Peter’s having placed Jesus on the same level as Elijah and Moses is unacceptable; the narrator, through the contrast of speeches, draws attention to the unique status of God’s son. Remarkably, though the response motif is employed again, the followers do not actually respond to the second epiphany. The epiphany constitutes the peak in the development of human perception of Jesus towards the knowledge articulated by the transcendent characters – God and the unclean spirits/demons – and, possibly, the narrator. 511 But the response motif is used to indicate a lack of response! In place of the sort of response that has occurred in previous instances comes the statement that suddenly, looking around, the followers no longer saw anyone except Jesus only (9.8): καὶ ἐξάπινα περιβλεψάμενοι οὐκέτι οὐδένα εἶδον ἀλλὰ τὸν Ἰησοῦν μόνον μεθ᾿ 509

Similarly, Broadhead (1992: 151) proposes the narrator links “the fear of the disciples to their failure to understand.” For an alternate view see Dwyer (1996: 142–143). 510 Similarly, Broadhead (1992: 149) speaks of Peter’s “misdirected” “answer” and “improper... response”; the disciples’ “confusion” and “inappropriate” “reply,” that is, “inability... to respond properly to the revelation of Jesus’ identity”; and, generally, “this failure.” Broadhead only once addresses what about the response is in error, when he states, “Here the voice of God speaks from the clouds to articulate the proper understanding of Jesus and the proper response to the revelatory event: ‘This is my beloved Son – Hear him!’” (1992: 149; cf. 151, 153). 511 Cf. Malbon 2009: 70–83. She thus lists the instances (Malbon 2009: 82): “1:1 narrator: Son of God; 1.11 (God): my Son; 1:24 unclean spirit: the Holy One of God; 3.:11 unclean spirits: the Son of God; 5:7 Legion: Son of the Most High God; 9:7 (God): my Son.” Malbon, with some reservation, accepts the variant υἱοῦ θεοῦ in 1.1. She notes the irony of the situation, “...oddly enough, what the unclean spirits and demons say to and about Jesus is most like what (God) says in 1:11 and 9:7 and what the narrator says in 1:1” (Malbon 2009: 82).

160

Chapter 2: Mark

ἑαυτῶν. The mention of characters’ seeing, following a miracle, should lead to action(s) (5.14c–15, 17; 6.49–50a) or otherwise be associated with it (them) (2.12c). The mention of visual sensation without accompanying emotion, speech or the like indicates that the disciples fail to respond. 512 In effect, the three disciples’ visual sensation is given prominence over their earlier verbal and emotional response. The importance of this visual element is reinforced in the following and closely connected scene in which, the four of them descending from the mountain, Jesus commends his followers not to tell anyone about what they have seen until the Son of Humanity rises from the dead. 513 This emphasis on visual sensation, yet lack of accompanying elements signifying comprehension and/or appreciation, seems to leave a ringing silence in the audience’s ears. The followers fail once again. Yet the focalisation employed for this key revelation draws the audience in: either to identify with the followers and to root for their eventual success in the narrative or, later, in the future of the narrative world; and/or to succeed in their place in recognising the import of the characterisation of the protagonist in this moment.

512 The differences between the references to sight in the opening theophany story (Mk 1.10) and here (9.8) are enough to suggest that 9.8 deserves special consideration as a variation of the response motif. First, there is precedent by ch. 9 to create the expectation that following a miracle seeing should be accompanied by action(s). This is not the case, of course, in the narrative’s opening story. Second, the sentence in which εἶδον is the main verb closes the story (9.8) – a common position for responses. In contrast 1.10 is not the end of the story. Third, in 1.10–11 the seeing of a miraculous event is immediately followed by the description of another such event (καὶ φωνὴ ἐγένετο). This does not happen in 9.8, of course, nor in the third story where more than one miraculous event occurs (6.48–51). Nor is the element of seeing in a response ever separated from another element by the description of some other type of event: 2.12c (reference to seeing in speech); 5.15– 17; 6.49–50b; 11.20b–21; 16.5b–c. Mk 6.49–50b is a notable instance, since verbs of seeing are twice the main verb of a sentence; and both times they are immediately followed by another element in the response: οἱ δὲ ἰδόντες αὐτὸν ἐπὶ τῆς θαλάσσης περιπατοῦντα ἔδοξαν ὅτι φάντασμά ἐστιν, καὶ ἀνέκραξαν· πάντες γὰρ αὐτὸν εἶδον καὶ ἐταράχθησαν. Fourth, the disciples have been respondents in previous stories; Jesus never has. Fifth, the disciples have already responded in the current episode. Thus, the audience may well be expecting the disciples’ response in this final position, especially following mention of their visual perception. None is given. (It should be noted that, nevertheless, 1.10, like most instances of the element of seeing in responses [see above, n. 137], is accompanied by an explicitly identified object.) 513 In an associative manner, the conversation turns to the topic of rising from the dead and, then, to Elijah. Nevertheless, Jesus’ warning reinforces the primarily visual importance of the previous episode, just as it connects the two intertwined epiphanies to his resurrection at the end of the book.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

161

XVII. Intervening material The obtuseness of the followers is reinforced in the aftermath of the transfiguration (9.9–13). When Jesus commands them to delay reporting what they have seen to others until after the Son of Humanity rises from the dead, they, by means of associative thinking, get side-tracked from the epiphany to the concept of resurrection. The recent thematised references to seeing and, related, understanding (8.15–21, 22–26) are likely conjured up in Jesus’ statement, when seen now in light of 9.8. Thus, the followers, though they have seen Jesus’ transfigured, have not understood the meaning. But even with respect to their associated topic of resurrection the narrator portrays their incomprehension. 514 With this follow-up to the transfiguration, then, the hope that the followers will eventually understand its meaning is weakened already – at least, perhaps, prior to the resurrection (i.e. within the narrative). As the three accompany Jesus down from the mountain-top, the audience realises that, for the time being at any rate, only those among themselves with “eyes to see” will truly understand the meaning of Jesus’ characterisation in the narrative, a characterisation that achieved its peak of revelatory grandeur only moments ago, at its geographic peak. From here until Jesus arrives in Jerusalem (9.14–10.52) the narrative focuses on Jesus’ interaction with his followers. 515 This is seen, too, it seems, in the two miracle stories in this part of the narrative, which flank it on either side. The first (9.14–29) 516 is the only story – an exorcism – in which followers (the disciples) play some part in procuring the miracle. 517 Emblematic of this section in general, it concerns the followers’ need for instruction, especially via correction. 518 Here Jesus’ rebuke comes down hard on them – along with the whole generation (9.19). The suppliant father of the victim has mixed characterisation (earnest, yet both possessing and lacking faith), 519 but

514 Ultimately they redirect the conversation to the topic of Elijah, for which Jesus offers clarification. There is no indication that the three grasp his words. 515 Cf. e.g. Best, though for him “the centre of Mark’s instruction to his readers on... discipleship” (1981: 15) is Mk 8.27–10.45. 516 A change in characters and location in Mk 9.14 marks the boundary. 517 Yet note the role they play, earlier, in the feeding stories, which includes administering the miracles’ benefits. 518 Best (1981: 66) notes the disciples’ failure here is different than their typical “failure to appreciate who Jesus is and what he demands from them in suffering.” 519 Similarly, Marcus 2000–2009: 2:663. There is no penetration into his inner life nor any real development – his persistence is finally expressed in his cry for help (κράξας... ἔλεγεν; Mk 9.24).

162

Chapter 2: Mark

is ultimately contrasted with the disciples to their detriment. 520 An emphasis on faith marks the story (9.19, 23–24). There is no response. Rather, the story ends with the disciples asking Jesus in private to instruct them on this difficult sort of exorcism – private instruction, following the disciples’ failure, being a fitting ending to the story in this part of the narrative. 521 Peculiarly an amazement motif appears at the story’s opening, upon Jesus’ arrival. The relevant sentences bear similarity to formal responses. 522 The solutions proposed for this conundrum are many. 523 Ultimately, I have not been convinced by any of them and remain agnostic as to its meaning. The pericopae in Mark 9.30–10.45 lay out Jesus’ further predictions – first to the disciples, then the Twelve – of his own impending suffering, unjust execution and resurrection and his teaching to the Twelve on being the “servant of all” (9.35; cf. 10.44). In this context, twice the disciples are amazed at his teaching on the extreme difficulty of the rich entering the kingdom of God (10.24, 26). 524 Hereafter amazement will continue to be a reaction to Jesus’ teaching, apart from miracles. 525 That the majority of the disciples are amazed, while some of them are afraid, in view of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem (10.32) sets the scene for Jesus’ final passion prediction. 526 The cause of 520

Malbon (2000: 200, 208) sees more in common between their portrayals. Best (1981: 67–69) finds less of a connection between prayer and faith than I do in Mk (cf. 11.22–25). Related, he does not see the boy’s father in a better light than the disciples. 521 If my argument is accepted that the portrayal of the various crowds’ responses to Jesus’ miracles has already been given its final statement, then no particular explanation is needed to explain the absence of the response motif, though I have offered a possible one. It may simply be unnecessary at this point in the plot. 522 καὶ εὐθὺς πᾶς ὁ ὄχλος ἰδόντες αὐτὸν ἐξεθαμβήθησαν καὶ προστρέχοντες ἠσπάζοντο αὐτόν (Mk 9.15). 523 See Dwyer (1996: 147, 149) for options and bibliography. “The reaction... is by all accounts unique” (Dwyer 1996: 147). Even that ἐκθαμβηθῆναι denotes amazement here is an open question; cf. above, n. 106. 524 οἱ δὲ μαθηταὶ ἐθαμβοῦντο ἐπὶ τοῖς λόγοις αὐτοῦ (Mk 10.24). οἱ δὲ περισσῶς ἐξεπλήσσοντο λέγοντες πρὸς ἑαυτούς· καὶ τίς δύναται σωθῆναι; (10.26). Note the latter has both an emotional and verbal component. The wording, even, is similar to 7.37. θαμβηθῆναι and ἐκπλαγῆναι are also the two verbs used in 1.21–28, though in reverse order. Cf. Dwyer (1996: 153, n. 30) on the textual variants for πρὸς ἑαυτούς in 10.26. Dwyer (1996:154) does not think the content “but the divine authority of the teaching... stuns with wonder.” 525 Amazement at his teaching is already in Mk 1.22; 6.2. Yet in both cases a larger context involves miracles also. 526 καὶ ἐθαμβοῦντο, οἱ δὲ ἀκολουθοῦντες ἐφοβοῦντο (Mk 10.32c–d). “The text here is fairly certain...” (Dwyer 1996: 157). Here the words οἱ δέ are best understood as an articular pronoun, with ἀκολουθοῦντες as a pre-nuclear participle (cf. 6.49; 14.11). Distinction is implied between two groups, who are further distinguished from the Twelve (10.32e); so, with different reasoning, Marcus (2000–2009: 2:741–742). Various constituents of

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

163

the reactions, probably, is knowledge of the threat Jesus faces in Jerusalem and his resolution to go there nonetheless. The fear is strictly negative. 527 (Note this is the clearest of two instances in which amazement and fear are contrasted in Mark.) 528 disciples are probably the subjects in 10.32c–d (contra Marcus – scholarly positions on the topic are many; in addition to those cited by Marcus, see Moloney [2002: 204, n. 174]). “The disciples” are the presumed subject in 10.32c, since the subject in 10.23–24 and implicitly in 10.26 is οἱ μαθηταί and only Peter and Jesus’ exchange (10.28–31) intervenes. Thus, the subject of 10.32d is a smaller group within the body of disciples (“some of them”). Similar phraseology for two reactions within one group of disciples, the latter being of a subgroup, is seen in Mt 28.17 (cf. Davies and Allison 1988–1997: 3:681–682). (In addition, as to ἀκολουθοῦντες, note no crowd follows Jesus from Mk 9.14 until now, though they come to him in two regions [9.15, 25; 10.1]; from 10.46 on [cf. 11.8] a crowd seems to join Jesus in his movement toward Jerusalem). The sense of 10.32d, then, would be, “And/though some of them, still following, were afraid.” The purpose of fronting reference to a “subgroup of a group of participants mentioned in the last sentence,” thereby temporally bringing the subgroup into focus, is in fact to anticipate “the switch of attention to the remaining member(s) of the group” (Levinsohn 2000: 228, 230, emphasis original). Thus, the Twelve, whom Jesus next takes aside, come from among the (larger) amazed group. Ambiguity in Mk 10.32d would be removed if it read, with similar meaning, οἱ δὲ ἐφοβοῦντο (ἔτι) ἀκολουθοῦντες or οἱ δὲ καὶ ἀκολουθοῦντες ἐφοβοῦντο. The position presented here has the added advantage of fitting in with a larger narrative feature in this section, Jesus’ removing the Twelve from the larger group of disciples for special teaching purposes, occurring first in 9.33–35(–50). In 10.32e(–45) Jesus “again” (πάλιν) takes the Twelve aside for special teaching (including a more detailed passion prediction, with Jerusalem now specified). 10.32.a–d is background material (all imperfects), setting the scene for this speech. By implication the larger group (with 2 unequal reactions) in 10.32c–d is the general body of disciples, from whom Jesus takes the Twelve aside. Similarly, see Dwyer (1996: 159–160; also n. 55 for bibliography) and Moloney (2002) though neither sees a sub-group of disciples in 10.32d, failing to note the distinctiveness marked by δέ. 527 In Mk 10.32–34 a death knell of sorts is sounded. Jesus’ itinerate ministry is over. Jerusalem as his final and climactic destination is for the first time explicitly articulated. Prior to this Jerusalem is only a source of those coming to Jesus, primarily his opponents (3.22; 7.1; though see 3.8 [part of the crowd]). This definitive movement offers a good explanation of the emotional reactions in 10.32c–d. The majority are amazed Jesus is walking straight into danger. This seems in some sense comparable to amazement at his various teachings, given that the larger body of disciples has been privy to his first two passion predictions (8.[27–]31; 9.31), predictions he has just now begun to help fulfill. The fear is comparable to fear elsewhere, largely unrelated to the miraculous, with similar negative connotation; see 5.36; 9.32; 11.18, 32; 12.12. For Dwyer the “motif of wonder” (both fear and amazement) here, as elsewhere, indicates “[t]he rule of God is again breaking in to save” (161). Yet he does not state what the disciples are amazed at or afraid of. 528 The other concerns the Gadarene crowd’s fear (Mk 5.15) and the general Decapolis crowd’s amazement (5.20) at the exorcism and victim’s restoration to society; cf. 11.18, where the two emotions have different sources. Note a contrast is in play, in both cases,

164

Chapter 2: Mark

XVIII. Mark 10.52c The final episode prior to Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem and its environs reports the healing of Bartimaeus (10.46–52). 529 This character, truly, may be dubbed an exemplar. He is persistent and expectant in his pursuit of healing from Jesus, much like the woman with the hemorrhage had been, yet he meets Jesus face to face. He even calls Jesus the “son of David,” evidencing some kind of greater than usual understanding of Jesus. 530 His response, too, gives this impression (10.52c): καὶ ἠκολούθει αὐτῷ ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ. It consists solely of a type of movement unique to this story, i.e., following Jesus. 531 And this act of following has not been solicited by Jesus, as elsewhere. 532 Prior to this Jesus commends his faith: ὕπαγε, ἡ πίστις σου σέσωκέν σε (10.52a). Perhaps the narrator intends for this story to be read, similar to the other story of a healing of blindness, metaphorically in large part. Many have suggested as much. The message, presumably, is something like: this is what happens when one “approaches” Jesus with faith and one’s “eyes” are truly opened – when fear is portrayed negatively. When more positively portrayed, fear / being troubled and amazement inform one another in 6.50b and 6.51c and 16.8b,d. 529 The HP in Mk 10.46a prototypically draws attention to the natural boundary (change of location). New characters are introduced shortly thereafter. 530 Malbon (2009b) offers a different reading. Note, though, another possibly also identifies Jesus as the messiah (Mk 14.3–9) and is commended for this. On the potential messianic meaning of the act of anointing there, see Evans (2001: 359); cf. Collins (2007: 641– 642). 531 On discipleship’s strong association with ἀκολουθῆσαι, see above, n. 156. Contra Malbon (2000: 75–78), the reverse is not the case – ἀκολουθῆσαι does not necessarily imply discipleship or “follower-ship.” Use of the term with respect to the crowds’ following Jesus is a case in point. Despite that Jesus often calls the crowds to him (Mk 7.14; 8.34 [including an invitation to “whomever” to follow Jesus]), their following him as a group is unsolicited – Jesus’ initial intent is to travel from town to town and speak in synagogues (Mk 1.38–39), though it is thwarted immediately (1.45). And crowds’ following is of a more reckless sort, causing some risk to Jesus’ personal safety, as is portrayed early on (3.7–10; cf. 5.24; 6.31–34). The positive view of “the crowd” in 3.20–35, despite the hindrance to Jesus and the disciples’ eating, is evidence against the foregoing claims; on which see above, n. 415. Two more clarifying points should be made in this context (contra Malbon 2000: 77–78): those described as many (πολλοί) in 2.15c are disciples (this supporting sentence [note γάρ] refers to οἱ μαθηταί in 2.15b); and Levi, easily understood as becoming a disciple in the one story he appears in, does not need to be “listed as one of the twelve” (Malbon 2000: 78) to be part of the larger body of disciples. 532 Others become disciples when positively answering Jesus’ call to follow him (Mk 1.17–20; 2.14; cf. 10.21–22). Yet the Gadarene ex-demoniac does try to follow Jesus (5.18); and he is asked to fulfill another task (5.19). It is possible, in fact, that Bartimaeus’ following of Jesus contradicts a command of Jesus (ὕπαγε; 10.52a). But it seems better to understand Jesus’ command, pragmatically, as a healing word, not a literal injunction to leave him.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

165

following him, even without solicitation, is the natural result. Bartimaeus is either indicative of the followers’ improved state or, alternatively, is pitted against them as the ideal follower. 533 In either case the story serves as an invitation to the audience to “see” Jesus and follow him. XIX. Intervening material Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem (11.1–11), amidst the invocation of blessing on “the coming kingdom of our father David” by “many” (probably both followers and a festal crowd is in view; cf. 10.46b) and his enactment of judgement in the temple (11.15–19) are key events in the mounting conflict with his opponents. XX. Mark 11.20b–21 The latter event is intercalated in the remaining miracle story (11.12–14, 20– 25) occurring prior to the climax. 534 The story is unique in numerous respects. First is the unique kind of miracle: the withering of a tree. This nature miracle story is the only one to have no physical benefit for humans. 535 Further, it is the result of a cursing. 536 In this story only does the miracle transpire, implicitly, while another event is narrated. Finally, only here does the peak of the episode occur after the response (or, where relevant, final response). The response, in fact, initiates, Jesus’ lengthy reply (11.22–25). 537 The response (11.20b–21) has three elements (seeing, cognitive, verbal): ...εἶδον τὴν συκῆν ἐξηραμμένην ἐκ ῥιζῶν. καὶ ἀναμνησθεὶς ὁ Πέτρος λέγει αὐτῷ· ῥαββί, ἴδε ἡ συκῆ ἣν κατηράσω ἐξήρανται. The Twelve (cf. 11.11b) and then, specifically, Peter respond. Notably this is the one story where established followers’ response(s) contain(s) no emotional element. The response functions here unlike any other, to introduce a discourse – seemingly, much like at the beginning of the discourse in chapter 13. 538 By inference the shrivelling of the fig tree symbolises the ill fate of the temple authorities; and Jesus’ comments on his and his followers’ prayer in 11.22–25, with much emphasis on faith, 533

I find this a difficult issue to take a side on. It is one of two miracle stories within which other material is intercalated (cf. Mk 5.21–43). 535 As noted above, Jesus’ walking on water itself is of no benefit to the Twelve (Mk 6.48–50), though the rescue at sea in that story, of course, is. 536 It is the only miracle in which violence or destruction occurs, at least to any object or character other than the unclean spirits – in one instance a mass death of pigs is related. 537 The final verb in the response, a historical present, also points forward. However, Jesus’ speech itself is introduced with λέγει (Mk 11.22), perhaps pointing forward to the following conflicts with the authorities. 538 Mk 13.1 has λέγει... διδάσκαλε, ἴδε..., similar to λέγει... ῥαββί, ἴδε... (11.21 [12]). 534

166

Chapter 2: Mark

contrasts his verbalised criticism of the authorities in the intercalated story (11.17). 539 A further potential implication is that Jesus’ (unarticulated) prayer for the new temple will succeed. 540 The insight from this private miracle is for the Twelve only. The time for public miracles is past. XXI. Intervening material The ensuing engagements in the temple (11.27–12.44) between Jesus and his various opponents, a more positively portrayed scribe, a crowd and some followers (the disciples[?]/the Twelve[?]) provide two occasions for instances of amazement at Jesus’ teaching. As with Jesus’ opening teaching and miracle (1.21–28) his final days of teaching still draw amazement from the crowd (11.18d); 541 yet, unsatisfactorily, that is still all he is awarded. 542 The crowd has failed to adequately recognise him; and its involvement at his trial will soon reveal this failure. One irony is that the religious authorities hesitate to act against Jesus, owing to their fear of the amazed crowd’s appreciation of Jesus (11.18; 12.12; cf. 11.32). 543 Another irony is that the opponents who first began plotting to kill Jesus, the Pharisees and Herodians (3.6), are now reduced, for the moment at least, to the same reaction of amazement (12.17b) 544 that has characterised crowds since the introduction of the Capernaum crowd – the only group of opponents to be astounded. 545 Following Jesus’ lengthy discourse in private to the inner circle of three followers (Mk 13) comes the articulation and execution of the plot to kill Jesus (14.1–15.41). Jesus’ prophecies, and those in the Scriptures, are fulfilled as he is abandoned by his followers, betrayed by one, denied by another, handed over to the religious authorities, rejected by them, condemned to 539

Similarly, Shepherd 1995: 531, 539. Collins (2007: 534) claims, “[T]he audiences of Mark would have understood the withering of the fig tree as representing a loss of power on the part of the leaders of the people.” More probably the intercalation intimates, “Within the house of Jesus one finds a house of prayer for all the nations... The reader is being led to accept that there will be another temple...,” Moloney (2002: 228); cf. Shepherd (1995: 539); Culpepper (2007: 382–383). In either case, a house of worship in which prayer for all nations occurs is envisaged. 540 This might be a new physical temple or a new community, centred on Jesus, as a temple; see above, n. 539. 541 Mk 11.18d: πᾶς γὰρ ὁ ὄχλος ἐξεπλήσσετο ἐπὶ τῇ διδαχῇ αὐτοῦ. 542 Dwyer (1996: 164) notes the connection with Mk 1.21–28. For him the amazement in both cases is positive, equally so. 543 Dwyer (1996: 164–167, 171 [165]) unnecessarily pits Mk 11.18 against 11.32 and 12.12 – claiming in 11.18 “the authority of Jesus made the leaders afraid” – owing to a misunderstanding of how γάρ constrains material. In the said text, for fear of Jesus on account of the crowd’s esteem of him the authorities deliberate as to how to destroy him. 544 Mk 12.17b: καὶ ἐξεθαύμαζον ἐπ᾿ αὐτῷ. 545 Similarly, Dwyer 1996: 175.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

167

death, scorned, handed to the Gentiles, mocked, spit upon, flogged and executed. 546 Ironically, as these fulfillments transpire, he is mocked repeatedly as a king until he is finally “enthroned” on the cross. 547 The peak of each of the conflicts – with Jesus’ followers, the religious authorities, the crowd(s) and, implicitly, the unclean spirits/the Satan – are found here, as is the previously foreshadowed conflict with Roman authority. 548 Generous use of the historical present in the scenes of Jesus’ beating by the soldiers and crucifixion build toward and mark the narrative’s climax (15.33–39). 549 Miraculous elements occur in the latter scene, though it is not a miracle story. 550 The climax, mentioned previously, is, following Jesus’ death, the ironic exclamation of his roman executioner: ἀληθῶς οὗτος ὁ ἄνθρωπος υἱὸς θεοῦ ἦν (15.39). The expectations of the hearers/readers, so often frustrated in the responses in preceding miracle stories, as well as elsewhere, such as Peter’s confession, are finally met, as a human character gives voice to what has been known all along. 551 Yet there is an unexpected twist; for the character does not himself understand the full weight of his words. XXII. Mark 16.5b–c and 16.8 The final miracle story (16.1–8[?]) is the second of two parts of the narratives’ extant dénouement (15.42–16.8[?]). To my mind the arguments for and against the narrative’s original ending being truncated are equally persuasive. 552 Related, 16.8b may be an incomplete sentence. 553 And just possibly 546

For some of the main prophecies, see Mk 8.31; 9.12, 31; 10.33–34, 45; 14.7–8, 18, 21, 22–24, 27, 30, 41, 49. For predictions as a key plot device in Mk see Petersen (1978a) 49–80. On the scriptural texts (Zech 9–14; Dan 7; Ps 10, 22 etc.; Isa 50, 52–53) presented as fulfilled in Mk 14–16, see Marcus (1992: 153–198). 547 On Jesus ironically portrayed as a king in Mk 15 see Matera (1982). 548 Incidentally, Pilate’s amazement at Jesus’ silence (Mk 15.5) and quick death (15.44) does not seem related in a definite manner to amazement at his miracles and/or teaching. In contrast is Dwyer’s (1996: 180–185 [185]) overall thesis “that all, believers and nonbelievers, Jews and Gentiles... of necessity marvel” at “the power of heaven.” 549 Longacre (1999: 161), noting that the HP is “[n]o longer... limited to motion, transportation and speech verbs.” 550 “The darkness of 15.33 and the torn veil of 15.38 are epiphanic elements; they indicate there is no absence of divine presence and power in the death of Jesus,” (Broadhead 1992: 181). 551 On this point see, especially, Theissen (1974: 162, 212–215, 219). 552 The majority opinion is that the narrative originally ended with Mk 16.8 (cf. Iverson 2006: 80, n. 6). Alternatively, the original ending may have been accidentally mutilated. Five lines of argumentation are key for the issue. (1) Against Magness (1986), Croy (2003: 89–96, 96; cf. 60–63) has convincingly argued that in antiquity “[e]ndings of whole and independent narratives that leave the fulfillment of an essential narrative component in serious doubt are definitely not common [and, more precisely, evidently non-extant].” The

168

Chapter 2: Mark

16.8a was originally the beginning of a new scene (or pericope). 554 I will proceed by offering two options for analysing the final periocope and, thus, the narrative’s ending. The first analysis assumes the text’s integrity. As a story with only established followers as respondents, it shares much in common with the other three such stories: a private setting, an epiphany (or at least a story with an

ending of Jonah (4.10–11), “the closest possible parallel,” which consists of an unanswered question made by God, the reaction of the prophet not being narrated, does not “subvert the book’s trajectory and constitute an anticlimax as Mark 16:8 does” (Croy 2003: 96; cf. 58– 60 – though there Croy does not bring to the fore the argument that in 16.8 it is the doubt of the fulfillment of the promise made in 16.7 not merely its lack of fulfillment in the narrative, that is so peculiar within ancient literature). Yet, Croy’s (2003: 94, emphasis original) argument is overstated: “the narrative does not allow us to assume the actualization of the young man’s promise (16:7).” The track record of prediction and fulfillment, notably re. Jesus’ predictions, does not leave “serious doubt” that Jesus will meet with the disciples; see, especially, Petersen (1978a: 77–78). The extant narrative does, however, end on a note of doubt, unique in the ancient world – doubt as to how the meeting will take place. Thus at the last moment the plot experiences a level of frustration, owing to the subversion of “the book’s trajectory.” This argument, here modified, is the strongest of the eight Croy presents for mutilation. (2) As regards γάρ, I accept the statement of Iverson: “The argument from genre [made by Croy] aids little in the discussion of Mark’s ending...” since γάρ-concluding sentences “are extremely, extremely rare at all times and in all genres [not just in narrative prose]” (2006: 93, 94; emphasis original). However, I cannot agree that “the usage of final γάρ... can be utilized with equal force to support the case for a mutilated text or the intentional, abrupt ending” (Iverson 2006: 93; emphasis mine). Rather, owing to the rarity of the phenomenon and in light of other evidence favouring truncation, the burden of proof lies with those who claim that Mark is doing something different and the final sentence has not been corrupted. (On the possible effect for the audience of ending this way, see Marcus [2000–2009: 2:1092].) (3) As one of Croy’s reviewers writes, “The fact that Mark’s Gospel was felt to have an unsatisfactory ending by at least two ancient scribes... should give one pause” (McGrath 2006: 65–66). (4) Marcus (2000–2009: 2:1092) rightly observes, “The mutilation thesis, then, combines two improbabilities,” the first being “extremely rapid deterioration or dismemberment [of the autograph].” (5) The second is “mutilation precisely at the end of a pericope” (Marcus 2000–2009: 2:1092). Though 16.1–8 as it stands forms a cohesive narrative unit, this argument is weaker, for the integrity of the sentence of 16.8d is, to some extent, brought into question by other factors (see point 2, above). Also, it is conceivable, at least, that 16.8a originally begun a new scene (or pericope). Gundry (1993: 1011) cites change of location as a consideration for this possibility. More critical, however, is the loss of a (or potential change of) participant(s) – cf. 5.14 for a possible parallel (also with the element of flight); yet there a nominal constituent is fronted, a formal feature supporting the thematic change. 553 This is a natural corollary to the argument for accidental mutilation. See especially points 2 and 5 in n. 552, above. 554 See point 5 in n. 552, above.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

169

epiphanic hue), 555 focus on the power at work in Jesus and a response which includes the emotional element of fear / being troubled or alarmed. As with the stilling of the storm and the transfiguration, this story, too, is focalised through the respondents. Yet the differences between this and the other three are also remarkable: the regular (male) followers – the disciples, the Twelve, the inner-circle of three – are replaced by women followers, namely Mary, Mary and Salome; 556 no parallel story in the Scriptures is to be found; and a mythic level of narration is not present – nor would one expect it to be since, importantly, Jesus himself is not present. 557 In fact, this is the only miracle story where Jesus is absent. The narrative’s close also has commonalities with its opening: first of all, obviously, a key place in the narrative (entry into / exit from the narrative world); an epiphany story with few observers (there one, here three); and a statement by a more-than-human character focused on Jesus. But the voice from heaven does not identify Jesus as God’s son here. Rather, a young man in white sitting in the tomb announces that Jesus, referred to as “the crucified one,” has risen – thus, the prophecy first made by Jesus in 8.31 and reiterated shortly thereafter in the second half of that key juncture in the narrative (9.9, 12) 558 has now been fulfilled and the prophetic words receive a fitting verbal echo. 559 555 The young man in a white robe (Mk 16.5) is to be understood as an angel; cf. Marcus (2000–2009: 2:1080, 1085, 1124–1125). Still connections between the two young men in Mk (also 14.51), especially the type of clothing, may well have symbolic meaning, pointing to “restored discipleship” (Moloney 2002: 345–346 [346]). For Broadhead (1992: 81) “the elements of an angelophany” are present, but not sufficient to have 16.1–8 constitute a miracle story. Curiously, he claims the episode “employs a suppressed tone that points not to miracles, but to the future of Jesus with his followers.” The motif of fear as a response in fact prevails here (see below) and is indicative of the nature of the episode. 556 The presence of these three named individuals may well have correspondence to Peter, James and John, the three respondents in the transfiguration. 557 The scene is on the whole realistic, though with a healthy dose of “ghost story” (on the term see above, n. 468). 558 Of course other, subsequent predictions and, starting earlier in the narrative, various foreshadowings of Jesus’ execution and resurrection also find a closure of sorts in the young man’s speech. 559 Unlike the features of the inclusio of the divine speech in Mk 1.11 and 9.7, no verbal parallelism exists between the predictions in the turning point (8.31: δεῖ τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου πολλα παθεῖν... ἀποδοκιμασθῆναι... ἀποκτανθῆναι... ἀναστῆναι; 9.9: ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἐκ νεκρῶν ἀναστῇ; 9.12: γέγραπται ἐπὶ τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἵνα πολλὰ πάθῃ καὶ ἐξουδενηθῇ) and here (16.6: Ἰησοῦν ζητεῖτε τὸν Ναζαρηνὸν τὸν ἐσταυρωμένον· ἠγέρθη...). Of what is shared – reference to Jesus by a noun phrase (8.31; 9.9, 12: ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου; 16.6: Ἰησοῦς ὁ Ναζαρηνός) and descriptions of his death (8.31: ἀποκτανθῆναι; 16.6: σταυρωθῆναι) and resurrection (8.31; 9.9: ἀναστῆναι; 16.6: ἐγερθῆναι) – nothing is held verbatim in common. (Part of the reason for this, it seems, is that now the need for secrecy is gone. The Son of Humanity is to be identified with Jesus

170

Chapter 2: Mark

Like the previous miracle stories with established followers, the question is again raised as to when they will finally grasp who Jesus is. This is part and parcel of a subplot, begun in the narrative’s opening theophany, and left unresolved here. This important aspect of the overall story is achieved by the response in the miracle story – or, rather, two responses which together create this effect (16.5b–c; 16.8): ...εἶδον νεανίσκον καθήμενον ἐν τοῖς δεξιοῖς περιβεβλημένον στολὴν λευκήν, καὶ ἐξεθαμβήθησαν. ... καὶ ἐξελθοῦσαι ἔφυγον ἀπὸ τοῦ μνημείου, εἶχεν γὰρ αὐτὰς τρόμος καὶ ἔκστασις· καὶ οὐδενὶ οὐδὲν εἶπαν· ἐφοβοῦντο γάρ.

They are both highlighted, the final response constituting the peak of the episode. 560 Fear / being alarmed is here all-pervasive. The initial emotion of the women, their alarm, is the key element (a mainline event) in their response to the young man’s appearance and his words (16.5) – the youth’s encouragement to them not to be alarmed is also relevant (16.6). 561 Though the second and third mention of emotion (16.8), fear, are in supporting comments, introduced by γάρ, the preponderance of these related emotions as well as repetition in quick succession bring fear / alarm to the fore, with the two responses taken together. Indeed, this effect is also achieved by ending the narrative with the short two-word sentence ἐφοβοῦντο γάρ. Amazement, too, has an accompanying presence (ἔκστασις). 562 Despite the emphasis on fear / alarm, it must be observed that the final series of two mainline events, highlighted by the foregoing historical present (λέγει; 16.6–7), are the women’s fleeing and not speaking. This mitigates against seeing the emotional element as the predominant one in the responses

the Nazarene.) Significant parts of the utterances’ contents, too, are not held in common (e.g., in 16.6, the topic of where Jesus’ body was placed [ὁ τόπος ὅπου ἔθηκαν αὐτόν]). There is also a conspicuous connection between the Jesus’ speech in 14.28 and the youth’s (16.7) – note the shared vocabulary and phraseology: προάξω/προάγει ὑμᾶς εἰς τὴν Γαλιλαίαν (cf. ἐγερθῆναι in 14.28 and 16.6). The key, new material is: ἐκεῖ αὐτὸν ὄψεσθε, καθὼς εἶπεν ὑμῖν (16.7). 560 Note that the sequence of HPs (ἔρχονται... θεωροῦσιν... [Mk 16.2, 4]; the intervening sentence, employing the imperfect [ἔλεγον], describes action simultaneous to the verb of motion, stated prior) leads to the first response (16.5b–c). Another HP (λέγει; 16.6–7) points to the second response (16.8). 561 Dwyer (1996: 187) rightly notes that μὴ ἐκθαμβεῖσθε (16.6) “is unusual and draws attention to the rare Markan word.” More common in Mk (5.36; 6.50) and certainly in other literature is μὴ φοβεῖσθε / μὴ φοβοῦ. 562 This is the one instance of fear / being alarmed or troubled and amazement – not in two responses of the same characters (6.47–52) or of different ones (5.1–20) but – of the same characters and in one response.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

171

– perhaps there is a “tie” then, in terms of emphasis, between the multiattested fear / alarm and the concluding mainline flight and verbal silence. The final event of the narrative is a non-event. Καὶ οὐδενὶ οὐδὲν εἶπαν clearly contrasts with the young man’s command. Interestingly, this is the one instance in which an element of a response (here reporting), as a mainline event, is negated. 563 The narrator offers an inversion of a well established motif to drive home a point: this miracle story and with it the entire narrative concludes with a signal failure on the part of these followers. The emotion here, then, is negatively coloured by the flight and disobedient silence, 564 though it may yet have some positive aspect. 565 563 The only other negated element in a response, background information, is: οὐ γὰρ ᾔδει τί ἀποκριθῇ (Mk 9.6a). 564 Dywer (1996: 188–193) views the elements of the responses in 16.5b–c, 8, consistently, as (more) positively portrayed. (A) Following Magness, he argues against the silence’s negative sense. Though, as Dwyer observes, the women’s failure to speak may well be understood by the audience to be in some sense “provisional” – they eventually told the disciples (how else did news of their encounter become known?) – it is incorrect to claim καὶ οὐδενὶ οὐδὲν εἶπαν in its context means “they told no one else, or told no one until they told the disciples” (Dwyer 1996: 192). (Note 1.44 is not a comparable instance of “double negatives related to speech” [Dwyer 1996: 189]. The negated command there is part of a larger construction [μηδενὶ μηδὲν... ἀλλά...], in which the second half corrects or replaces the first – cf. Runge [2010: 92–100].) Citing biblical texts “where silence, for a time, results from a divine encounter” (Dwyer 1996: 189), he even suggests the silence here may be an appropriate response. Such a reading does not adequately account for: (1) the tension and frustration of expectation that the extant text (taking 16.8 as the ending) fosters for the overall narrative on account of the silence (see above, n. 552); (2) the flagrant disregard for the youth’s command to speak inherent in the women’s silence (cf. Marcus [2000–2009: 2:1080; cf. 1087] on “recipients’ obedient response to the command” being the “[o]ne typical component” of angelophanies that is “conspicuously missing” here); and (3) the fact that this is the one instance in which a common element in responses is negated (1 of 2 instances of negation of elements, generally). Note Magness (1986: 100) misses the point when he claims, “Structural patterning teaches us to read the ending of Mark as a description of appropriate and positive actions....” The analysis pursued here has sought to find what Alter (1981: 52) calls “really interesting,” i.e. the manipulation of patterns for the “imaginative purposes at hand.” That the final mainline event of the narrative offers, unexpectedly, a doubly uncommon variation on two familiar themes – the failure to report, as one of the elements in a miracle response, despite the injunction to report – should be the cause of some consternation in the audience. (B) Dywer (1996: 188) seeks to distance the action of flight from the “negative connotations in Mk 5.14 and 14.50, 52” by appealing to parallels in other literature where there is “confrontation with the supernatural,” i.e. 1 En. 106.4 and, especially, Dan 10.7. This attempt fails on three grounds. (1) Flight as an element in responses in Mk is negative elsewhere (5.14; flight from Jesus – so Marcus [2000–2009: 2:1086]). Followers’ flight elsewhere is also from a positively portrayed character and is negative (14.50, 52; flight from Jesus – Dwyer (1996: 188) notes flight “is commanded in 13.14,” but the flight there is to be from a fore-

172

Chapter 2: Mark

Some further remarks on the emotional elements of the responses are in order. This is the third miracle story in which (the same) respondents have two responses, separated chronologically and textually. The initial disturbance (16.5) may not be negative, 566 though the subsequent fear and amazement (16.8) are. Such a deterioration in responses has already been seen in the two earlier cases (6.49–50b and 6.51c–52; 9.5–6 and 9.8). 567 This confirms the general portrait of followers, formed earlier in cases focused on the Twelve and the three, namely, that despite greater revelation – here evidence of an empty tomb, angelic proclamation of Jesus’ resurrection and a prediction of a future meeting in the Galilee, recalling and confirming his words to this effect – the followers do not meet Jesus’, nor the narrator’s, expectation of them. 568 The episode implies, then, that had the women properly understood who Jesus was, especially in light of what he said about himself, they would not have fled in fear and kept silent. Yet, the pattern of prophecy and fulfillment

told event conceived of as very negative). (3) In 16.8 flight is associated with the disobedient silence. In terms of prominence in the discourse (16.1–8) and the logical relations signalled by the connectives, Dwyer (1996: 192) has it exactly wrong, when he claims: “The silence is a function of the wonder, subordinate to it, and not the main feature of the narrative.” 565 The question of whether fear as a response is typical and positive in epiphany stories in Jewish and/or other literature, generally, will be addressed briefly in Chapter Seven, below. My position is not the same as that of Dwyer (1996: 193), who sees “the amazement [sic] of 16.8 as not necessarily negative or positive, but simply a function of the marvelous act of God.” The fear in 16.8 has a definite negative connotation, though it may be ambivalent, having also a positive connotation. (Note Dwyer [1996: 188], in light of formal similarities, associates 16.8 with 5.33, regarding which he wrongly claims: “her reaction is in faith... and is commended by Jesus.”) 566 It may be negative. The narrator’s system of values may suggest the women followers should have expected Jesus’ resurrection and, therefore, some other responses would be fitting, perhaps a confident exclamation of Jesus’ resurrection or sonship and/or perhaps joy (cf. Lk 24.52; Jn 20.20). Yet, the emotion here might be a common response to epiphanies, including angelophanies (so, e.g., Marcus [2000–2009: 2:1085]) – see Chapter Seven, below. 567 For stories in which two emotional reactions appear at different points, a distinction must be made for characters’ initial emotion (whether its actual presence or threat is stated or merely implied in the speech of another character) between emotions due to a danger or reality of bodily harm and those due to the occurrence of a miracle. Dwyer (1996: 192) inappropriately cites Mk 5.35–41 (initial fear at storm) and 5.35–43 (initial fear at death) as narratives comparable to 16.1–8. 568 So, for Marcus (2000–2009: 2:1087), “the women are not essentially different from the male disciples”; cf. Moloney (2002: 349) and others. In contrast Malbon (2000: 65) argues that “minimal emphasis is placed on their [the women’s] fallibility as followers in comparison with... especially the disciples.”

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

173

in the narrative assures the audience that Jesus’ words (Mk 14.28) and, now, the aligned statement of the young man – ἐκεῖ αὐτὸν ὄψεσθε, καθὼς εἶπεν ὑμῖν (16.7) – will come to fruition in the future of the story world. 569 The likeliest options are that the young man will tell the disciples himself or, more probably, Mary, Mary and Salome’s fear-driven oral paralysis will eventually be overcome and the disciples will hear the good news from their mouths. Similarly, Peter, James and John, too, will tell others, now, of what they have seen on the mountain where Jesus was transfigured (9.9). And, since the narrative claims to be a record of fact, the narrator would have the audience understand that the foretold meeting in the Galilee has indeed taken place. Jesus’ followers have finally recognised him as the Son of God, who was revealed in glory on the high mountain and, with horrendous irony, in suffering on the cross. So how is the audience expected to respond to this tension at the story’s close? The answer may have multiple facets. The focalisation through Mary, Mary and Salome elicits the audience’s empathy, on the one hand. These followers have been some of Jesus’ most faithful. When the other disciples, including the Twelve, abandoned Jesus, denied him or even handed him over, they stayed near him. Now they have even come with the intention to pay their respects to and serve his corpse. Yet alarm and fear overwhelm them at the sight of the dazzling messenger and his message of Jesus’ resurrection. The fear also silences them in disobedience – here contrasting with the Gadarene ex-demoniac, while similar in some ways to the ex-leper. 570 The characterisation achieved is complex. By identifying with these followers, the audience is encouraged to see that God, ultimately, will bring about his purposes, despite their foibles and, even, disobedience. 571 In fact, in contrast to the protagonist, no character with a recurring role in the narrative, save his forerunner, John the Baptiser, has properly lived up to the narrator’s standards, though many characters have benefitted from Jesus. Identifying with these women followers also encourages a general sense of solidarity with all of those who have improperly identified and/or followed Jesus. On the other hand, the focalisation here, as in the transfiguration, may function, perhaps in addition, as an invitation to the audience to succeed where these followers have failed. The audience would, thus, identify themselves with Jesus (and John the Baptiser). They are called to follow Jesus 569

Petersen 1978a: 77. The ex-leper is told not to tell one group but another. He, disobediently, does the reverse. Mary, Mary and Salome are told to tell the disciples, yet they tell no one. 571 Moloney (2002: 354): “As Christian disciples continue to fail and flee in fear, they are told that God’s action in and through the risen Jesus overcomes all such failure.” “In the end, all human beings fail... but God succeeds” (Moloney 2002: 352). Cf. Petersen (1978a: 77–78). 570

174

Chapter 2: Mark

faithfully and to announce his resurrection. 572 There is, perhaps, no insurmountable obstacle to envisioning the audience identifying, alternatively, with the women followers and Jesus. A second analysis assuming the text’s mutilation, by nature hypothetical, must be tempered. The most likely addition to the extant narrative would be an appearance of Jesus to his “disciples” in the Galilee – though there might be more lost material. Given this, a number of points in the foregoing analysis would remain unchanged. The climax would in all probability still be the crucifixion account in chapter 15. 573 The followers’ general complex portrayal would not be changed, though potentially some positive development would take place. Would there be a confession on their part that Jesus is the “Son of God,” forming a fourth key moment in the narrative? It is impossible to know. Still, the fact that in his critical hour the followers had abandoned him would retain the point that God brings his purposes to fruition, despite Jesus’ followers’ shortcomings – and of those individuals positively related to him in a less formal manner – however extreme. Even a new scene beginning at 16.8 would not drastically effect the meaning of the relevant response (16.8), since, as in other stories the second response of established followers builds on the first one, a similar pattern might be expected. If 16.8 were to begin a new episode, however, a more substantial difference would result, as no other episode in Mark begins with a response to a miracle in a previous episode. The women’s attitude towards the messenger and his news might be expected to change in such a context. 574 Still an account of Jesus’ appearance to his disciples might well be expected to offer a more comic closure to the Gospel than 16.8 does. Such an ending would necessarily cast all the foregoing material in a more positive light. 575 It would be hazardous to present more than a very tentative suggestion as to what a lost ending, including an encounter in the Galilee, might evoke in the audience, in addition to their putting trust in God’s ability to bring about the divine plan. I suggest, therefore, the audience might be invited to expect restoration following their own (inevitable?) failure and, equally, to receive a commission. 576

572

Cf. e.g. Rhoads et al. 2012: 134. See above, n. 549, on the abundance of HPs there, which marks the climax. 574 Perhaps such an episode would relate the women bringing news to the disciples, despite their initial flight. 575 Rimmon-Kenan (2002: 121): “The recency effect encourages the reader to assimilate all previous information to the item presented last.” 576 This might involve a baptism in the holy spirit (cf. Mk 1.8). 573

Conclusion

175

R. Conclusion The foregoing analysis has demonstrated that, whatever the sources and other traditional origins of the response motif may be, the author-redactor of Mark has used it creatively in writing the gospel narrative. While both miracle stories and the responses they contain are an important part of Mark’s narrative and despite the flourishing of narrative critical study of Mark, the present chapter, to the best of my knowledge, constitutes the first detailed literary analysis of the responses motif in this gospel. In addition to this basic result of the analysis, the analysis has made several additional contributions. I begin with those that pertain to definitions. First, the analysis has supported the definitions of miracle and miracle story adopted in this study (see Chapter One), especially as they relate to epiphanies. As the narrative unfolds, the Gospel of Mark makes it clear that the stories of (a) the theophany at Jesus’ baptism, (b) the epiphany of Jesus, Moses and Elijah and related theophany on the high mountain and (c) the angelophany at the tomb are to be understood as part of a larger body of episodes that includes stories of the mighty deeds of Jesus. An important factor drawing stories of healings, exorcisms, the cursing of the fig tree, epiphanic rescues at sea and other epiphanies together is the presence of responses, which consist of a similar basic form and sort of content. I will take up this point in more detail momentarily. I noted in Chapter One that Gerd Theissen’s work sets an important precedent for the approach adopted and confirmed here, though little of subsequent scholarship has followed his lead in including epiphany stories in the study of miracle stories. 577 A related point, made clear in the analysis, is that two stories – the stilling of the storm and the walking on water – while narrating Jesus’ mighty deeds, contain an epiphanic element that draws them into closer connection with the three aforementioned epiphany stories. Theissen’s approach is again an important forerunner to the argument I have made. Support for the identification of the stilling of the storm and the walking on water as stories of epiphanies is found in the shared patterns, pertaining to responses: established followers respond with fear / being troubled in private settings, while narration employs non-standard focalisation (i.e. the narrator is not the [sole] focaliser). The frequent and characteristic narration of responses in both epiphany stories and other miracle stories is strong evidence that the episodes should be treated as one group. The two kinds of stories draw on a shared, limited pool of response components. All elements occurring multiple times are found in responses of both story types. In order of frequency they are: emotion (in 13 577

Scholars who do follow Theissen’s lead have not gone as far as him in the number of epiphanic episodes they include among miracle stories.

176

Chapter 2: Mark

responses), speech (9), movement between locations (7), visual sensation (6), reporting (6) and cognitive acts (5). Often these elements are well represented, in relative numbers, in both story types. 578 The typical placement of the emotional component (absolutely in the response and relative to speech) is a further, albeit more moderate, feature drawing the kinds of stories together. Second and closely related, the analysis has confirmed the appropriateness of the definition of response I adopted in Chapter One, in as much as it pertains to Mark. Previous scholarship has concentrated on four (Theissen) aspects or kinds of characters’ actions and feelings – roughly equivalent to what I have called emotion, speech, reporting and antagonism – occurring in response to a miraculous occurrence. My analysis has identified several additional features. Movement between locations, visual sensation and cognitive acts occur regularly in connection with how characters respond to miracles. For all components, the identification of a given instance is based primarily on the governing verb in the respective clause. On account of the frequency of all the elements just mentioned, the moderate tendency for them to appear in various combinations and the fact that most of them are not categorically positive or negative, it is best to speak of one motif, namely the response motif, rather than to speak of various discrete motifs. There is, in addition, one instance each of falling and an expressly antagonistic element (conspiring to kill). Generally, I observed that miracle stories in Mark commonly have, subsequent to the occurrence of a miracle, a series of contiguous clauses that describe one or more characters’ visual perception and/or internalised and/or externalised experience resulting from the miracle. The definition is not watertight. For in the midst of the narration of characters’ perception of a miracle and resultant actions/experience a comment about the ramifications for Jesus might be narrated (Mk 1.45b). Nevertheless, this and related instances can reasonably be seen as variations of a motif. Typically, full sentences are involved, usually one to four. The confirmation of the definition of response and the identification of six main elements, noting the greater frequency with which emotions occur, builds upon the best observations of previous scholarship (see Chapter One). The approach picks up on the idea of a singular, unified motif appearing in miracle stories (Martin Dibelius, Ruldolf Bultmann, Kenzo Tagawa, also Werner Kahl). At the same time it follows the lead of Theissen, also Kahl, for identifying individual, recurrent elements. As mentioned, the three commonly occurring components related to characters’ responses envisioned by Theis578 Notably emotions occur in responses found in both epiphanic (6) and non-epiphanic miracle stories (7), as do also seeing (3 and 3, respectively) and speech (3 and 6, respectively).

Conclusion

177

sen (Admiration, Akklamation, Ausbreitung des Rufes) roughly correspond to the emotional, verbal and reporting elements I have identified. At the same time, the present approach confirms and makes space for the observation inherent in Bultmann’s conception of Eindruck auf die Zuschauer (see also Tagawa), namely that emotions are generally the most characteristic of responses in terms of frequency. Third, the analysis showed how variation in focalisation in miracle stories aids in characterisation and seeks to affect hearers/readers. With heightened methodological rigour relative to previous studies, I have observed that five of the six Markan episodes with non-standard focalisation are miracle stories. Responses can play an important role in the alternate forms of focalisation, whether fixed character-focalisation (stilling of the storm; angelophany at the tomb) or variable focalisation (healing of the woman with hemorrhaging; walking on water; transfiguration) is in view. Building on the insights of others, notably Robert Fowler, it was noted in the analysis how the use of character-focalisation can: build tension in the plot, as in the variation of character-focalisers between the stilling of the storm and the walking on water; lead the hearers/readers to identify and sympathise with the plight, fears and hopes of characters; and/or call hearers/readers to succeed where characters fail (transfiguration and angelophany at the tomb). I offered a new perspective for aspects of focalisation in some individual stories. More importantly, the analysis provided, to the best of my knowledge, the first recognition that the four epiphanic episodes related to Jesus’ active ministry and resurrection are intertwined, in various ways, through the use of non-standard focalisation. I also provided the detailed consideration of how these joint linkages function. Fourth, I conducted in the chapter’s sub-sections the first analysis of the discourse for responses, specifically, and to a certain extent also for miracle stories, generally. By analysing the discourse it was possible to determine, for example, that emotion is the most characteristic component of the responses, not just quantitatively but also qualitatively (in terms of prominence). Some other tendencies were observed. With the most common collocation (speech and emotion) in roughly half the responses, the two components tend to have equal prominence in the discourse. In other cases, a lack of tendency was discovered. For example, no prototypical relative priority of elements exists, in responses with multiple components. 579 In light of these observations and others about the order of appearances of components and the location of responses in relation to the miracle and the end of the story, the analysis

579

In the five responses where reporting occurs, it is always (among) the most prominent component(s).

178

Chapter 2: Mark

showed that responses, far from being formulaic, are perhaps even less formal in shape than one might have expected. Discourse analysis also enabled the finding that in up to half (between five and seven) of the 14 miracle stories with responses, a response, in part or whole, constitutes the story’s peak or part of it. Consideration of a variety of features – such as the historical present and other highlighting devices – enabled the pertinent observations, as well as an understanding of how the response, in other contexts, pertains to the contours of those stories. Analysis of the discourse complemented narrative-critical analysis of the stories at numerous points, helping to flesh out, for example, what events are most significant, what features of characters are brought to the fore and, generally, what a given story’s key points are. Fifth, Justin Taylor’s observations about levels of narration in the Gospels has proved enlightening for as well as found confirmation in the foregoing analysis. Taylor notes that the level of narration approaches the mythic level in the stories of epiphanies of Jesus during his Galilean ministry. Conversely a “romantic” level of narration is found in the healing and exorcism episodes. Analysis of the responses has confirmed the distinction, since established followers respond with fear in private settings to these epiphanies of Jesus, whereas others respond – typically with amazement, if an emotion is present – in public settings to the other miracles. Moreover, the three epiphanic episodes share in common the fact that they have parallels in the Jewish Scriptures. (I did not consider such parallelism in detail, being beyond the scope here; but will return to the topic in Chapter Seven, below.) Alternation between levels of narration, therefore, is an integral aspect of both the miracle stories and the overall Markan narrative. Sixth, with the last point serving as a segue, I turn to the principal task I set before me in the analysis and the resultant findings. The analysis has explored variations in the employment of the formal feature of responses, looking for, in Alter’s (1981: 52) words, “what is done in each individual application of the schema to give it a sudden tilt of innovation or even to refashion it radically for the imaginative purposes at hand.” Such a quest has proved rewarding, as the responses are far from monolithic in either content or function. Rather the response motif is used in a variety of ways and for diverse purposes, both within individual miracle stories and throughout the larger narrative of Mark. Both plot and characterisation are primarily in view, though other literary features such as focalisation are also pertinent. As for plot, the analysis, building on the work of others, has offered some original readings of particular stories. More important, though, is the original contribution made here to seeing how plot developments in the larger narrative are fostered, in multiple ways, through the use of the response motif. As for characterisation, the depiction of both positive and negative aspects – also ambiguous ones – of the respondents themselves can be the result of narrating the

Conclusion

179

responses. The characterisation is so often in terms of the respondents’ understanding and acceptance of who the narrator presents Jesus to be. Alternatively – or simultaneously – Jesus can be characterised in various ways through the responses of others. Jesus is worthy of the attention he receives, inasmuch as it is positive; yet he comes across, at the same time, as more than what the respondents think him to be. Often both the development of one or more plotlines and charactersiation result from the narration of a given response. As for character portrayal, some figures are painted in broad strokes: Pharisees want to destroy Jesus; Bartimaeus follows him. The picture of others appears more complicated: the disciples, with a fearful recognition of Jesus’ power, fail to grasp who he is; various crowds, while impressed by and benefitting from Jesus, succeed only in part to identify him, despite their confident appraisal of him; a man healed of leprosy, despite his faith in Jesus, goes against his command and brings about difficulty for him. Thus in as much as this analysis on responses in miracle stories sheds light on the issue, it supports Taylor’s (2011) claim that the Gospels, in this case Mark, commonly present nuanced portrayals of characters. More impressive is how responses in miracle stories form a pattern which functions to further the plot. This feature is closely related to the characterisation of Jesus. In addition to other means of depicting various characters’ estimations of Jesus, notably in their interactions with him, their responses to miracles map out a spectrum of negative to positive estimations. Even the most positive, however, ultimately fail to measure up to the narrator’s identification of Jesus in the opening miracle story. A dividing line separates those four stories in which established followers respond – namely, the stilling of the storm, the walking on the water, the transfiguration and the resurrectionrelated angelophany – from the rest. They are unique in consistently having a private setting, miracles that are epiphanic in nature and, at any rate, reveal the great power/nature possessed by Jesus, and responses that contain the emotional element of fear or being troubled. The use of alternative forms of focalisation is noteworthy: three of the stories have the disciples or the women followers as focalisers; in a fourth Jesus is a focaliser. The other stories are typically public in setting or go from private to public, portray exorcisms and other healings and the responses concerned, when an emotional element is present, have amazement – they also frequently have non-followers as respondents. Focalisation through a character in these stories is extremely rare. Among the elements in responses, then, the emotional one is key to the pattern observed, which is perhaps not surprising given that it is the most characteristic element. The first three stories pertaining to established followers, all having parallels in the Scriptures with stories of the prophets and utilising a mythic level of narration, form a series building, in terms of the miraculous power displayed, to a crescendo in the transfiguration. Both the main plot-line and a subplot-line reach a peak. Here, that is, at the turning

180

Chapter 2: Mark

point of the narrative, the narrator reveals the most magnificent view of Jesus’ nature (main plot-line), though the three followers privy to the epiphany do not comprehend it, as their responses indicate (subplot-line). Comprehension is left to the ideal audience. Yet they are not spoon-fed; they are, rather, expected to have “eyes that see” the significance of the protagonist’s characterisation. The final miracle story for established followers, too, provides some important insight – this time at the close of the narrative. While the main plotline reaches its climax in Jesus’ crucifixion, two subplot-lines – related to the questions “Which characters will recognise who Jesus is?” and “Will the followers of Jesus be faithful to his call of discipleship?” – are held in suspense right until the end. Through portraying Mary, Mary and Salome’s fearful response of flight and silence, the narrator invites the audience to believe that God’s purposes will be accomplished despite the mixed nature of Jesus’ followers and, possibly, to take up the task of proclaiming Jesus’ resurrection. Thus, the narrator of Mark employs with agility a common motif, the responses of recipients and observers to miracles, in a variety of manifestations and, indeed, in networks of relationships among the variations, at times working with broader strokes, at times refashioning the convention singularly “for the imaginative purposes at hand.” Sometimes the absence of the motif is also telling. Though an approach of caution is still required, since a convincing reason for the variation (or absence) of the motif cannot always be found. The analysis raises some intriguing questions. Are the components typically found in the Markan responses common in the responses in the other Synoptic Gospels? In John? Are there other elements common there? Do emotions play a similar role in these narratives as in Mark? Does the same pattern of private versus public, established followers versus others, epiphanies versus healings and exorcisms, fear and being troubled versus amazement, standard versus non-standard focalisation, occur in the miracle stories of Matthew, Luke and John? Is the distribution of such miracle story types and their respective responses similar to that in Mark – that is, primarily in the first half of the narrative, with a high point in a key epiphanic episode, and then an important epiphany (or epiphanies) again at the end? These questions will be taken up, in turn, for each of the remaining gospels in the next three chapters. Other important questions also arise, as to potential influences on the composition/redaction of Mark. Did the author-redactor originate the pattern in its entirety? Or did (a) source(s) used by the author-redactor contain one or more facets of the pattern observed? If yes, which aspects were found in part in the source(s) and then developed further by the author-redactor? Important here is the fact that the pattern is not pristine in the narrative of Mark. For example, two responses of fear are found in stories that are not about private

Conclusion

181

epiphanies for established followers (the exorcism of Legion and the healing of the woman suffering from hemorrhaging). The second of these stories also features character-focalisation. These facts would tend to suggest that traditional material has been incorporated at these junctures. This observation would mitigate against the idea that the author-redactor has invented in total the pattern observed. Paradoxically, the exceptions to the rule lend support to the idea that the pattern observed, too, is traditional material that has been incorporated, perhaps without a massive overhaul by the author-redactor. Was an earlier written source primarily responsible for the differentiation between epiphany stories and others? Or was such a distinction already found in oral transmission of miracle stories about Jesus at a period contemporary to and/or preceding Mark? I will begin answering such questions already in sections dedicated to the Synoptic Problem in Chapters Three and Four, focusing there on the capability of the Two Document Hypothesis and its two most well-known rival hypotheses, respectively, to explain the data. Then in in Chapter Six – dedicated specifically to examining the interrelations of all four gospels – I will consider not only possible relations between John and the other gospels but also the possible influences of oral tradition Questions about tradition history also arise, though answering them lies largely outside the reach of the present study. Does the range of elements found in the Markan responses – especially, emotional, verbal, seeing, reporting, movement and cognitive elements – populate responses in other literature? If so, where? What differences are there? Similar questions can be asked of the location of the responses within the stories and other literary features. As noted by Cotter (1999: 1), who looked largely at non-Jewish sources, miracle stories in Greco-Roman narratives do not have a fixed form. As for emotions, where do they play the lead role in responses? Does the distinction between responses of amazement and fear, generally speaking, hold true in other works or, generally, bodies of literature? Theissen (1983: 70) observes that the emotional responses in particular have few parallels in “pre-Christian” [sic] literature, by which it is meant, it seems, nonJewish, pre-Christian literature. Thus a preliminary inquiry would suggest that a tradition-historical study of responses in miracle stories pertinent to Mark might be most profitably conducted in the context of Jewish literature. This finds immediate corroboration in the fact that a number of the Markan miracle stories themselves have parallels in the Jewish Scriptures and their interpretative traditions. Studies of Jesus’ deeds of power in relation to the Jewish Vor- and Umwelt and considerations about the concept of “miracle” in the Gospels (see Chapter One in both cases), too, offer corroboration for the notion that Jewish literature constitutes an appropriate and promising location for conducting comparative study. The questions outlined in this paragraph will be taken up in Chapter Seven.

Chapter 3

Matthew In the previous chapter I demonstrated how the response motif is used in various, creative ways in the Gospel of Mark. Employment of the motif there helps not only to characterise Jesus as the powerful Son of God but also to portray other characters in various ways, both negative and positive, and to shape the plot, not only of a given miracle story but also of the larger narrative. The question remains as to whether the same literary creativity is evident in the Gospel of Matthew. Is there diversity in the use of the response motif in Matthew, rather than its employment serving principally to offer laud to the narrative’s protagonist? On the one hand, one might expect a positive answer to the question. Miracle stories are more numerous in Matthew than in Mark. This is seen, for example, at the beginning and end of Matthew. In each place a number of epiphany stories occur, not just one. The miracle stories in Matthew also cover a longer period in the narrated world, from Mary’s pregnancy with Jesus to Jesus’ post-resurrection appearance in the Galilee. Related, some material in Matthew is not found in Mark. Thus miracle stories, at a glance, are prominent if not integral to the narrative of Matthew, appearing in creative ways. This would suggest that the various features within the miracle stories, too, have been touched by the artistry of the author-redactor. On the other hand, one might hesitate to expect a strongly affirmative answer to the question. Miracle stories in Matthew are often shorter than their counterparts in Mark. Sometimes the response in Mark has no parallel in Matthew (e.g. Mk 1.45; cf. Mt 8.4). Indeed, Heinz Joachim Held, an influential scholar of the Matthean miracle stories, seems to indicate that responses have little role here. Also, Matthew, unlike Mark, has huge sections of teaching material and, generally, proportionately less space dedicated to miracles. Such a factor, too, might suggest that the response motif would be employed less creatively in Matthew. Finally, the topic of Matthew’s sources plays a role in expectations of what the analysis in this chapter might uncover. This statement is true despite the fact that the approach to be used here is narrative criticism. For, if Matthew is literarily dependent on Mark as the majority of scholars assume, the author-redactor of Matthew may reproduce various motifs from the literary source, without (much) creative adaption for his own purposes. The result could be, for example, expressions of amazement and

184

Chapter 3: Matthew

declarations about Jesus have lost the nuance they possess in Mark, such that in Matthew the responses serve generically to sing the praises of Jesus. Such expectations might be strengthened when one notices how in Matthew some miracle stories appear in constellations similar to those found in Mark, developing comparable contours for the larger narrative. For example Matthew, like Mark, contains three miracle stories during Jesus’ ministry in the Galilee, where his disciples alone are present, that contain or feature an epiphanic element. To find the answer, of course, to the question of artistry in Matthew with respect to the response motif I must conduct a close narrative critical reading of the gospel. Many corollary questions naturally arise. How common and how important are responses in the Matthean miracle stories? What are the constituent elements of the responses? Do feelings play a key role? Do the responses help distinguish between stories of rescue nature miracles and epiphanies, on the one hand, and other stories, notably of exorcism and healing, on the other? Generally, how do the miracles and responses to them contribute to characterisation and plot development? The approach here, as in the preceding chapter, will be to engage in literary and linguistic analysis of the responses in Matthew to understand the role they play as the narrative unfolds. At the same time, data are collected that will be used in discussion of the interrelations of the Gospels. Such discussion begins already in the concluding section of this chapter and of the next, where various hypothetical solutions to the Synoptic Problem are considered. Later, in Chapter Six, the data from all four gospels will be subjected to extensive comparative analysis to be conducted later. Returning to narrative criticism, the principal focus of the present chapter, the reader my opt to browse some earlier, more technical sections of the chapter, initially, and return to the relevant details while reading the key analysis of the narrative of Matthew, in Section Q. 1

A. State of the Question In terms of narrative criticism, considerably less has been written on Matthew than on Mark. 2 In particular, the Matthean miracle stories as a whole have not received concentrated attention. Still, entries in the first volume of Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen (KFW1) offer literary and 1 Nevertheless, even upon first reading one should give attention to detail in at least Sections A–D, H–J, P. 2 Sim (2011: 49) offers a brief review of scholarship in this regard. See also, below, n. 5.

State of the Question

185

linguistic study of many of the Matthean miracle stories. It must be remembered that “miracle stories” are considered in the said volume to be stories of Jesus’ miraculous deeds only – a view that is not shared by the present study. Contributors make valuable observations for various 3 individual miracle stories, though the stories’ relation to the larger narrative is seldom reflected upon. The observations will be taken up in what follows. Christian Münch’s introduction to Matthew’s miracle stories, however, does not offer much by way of either literary criticism or analysis of the responses. 4 No focused treatment of the response motif in Matthew exists in the literature. I will consider conceptions of the plot of Matthew before turning to some studies that give special attention to responses in miracle stories. The various conceptions of the plot of Matthew tend to agree that it is conflict driven. 5 For Jack Dean Kingsbury (1986: 8; cf. 3) “the conflict on which the plot of Matthew’s story turns is that between Jesus and Israel, especially the Jewish leaders.” The conflict progressively intensifies until it reaches an irreconcilable level of hostility. Even the crowds, “generally well disposed toward Jesus,” are finally turned against him by the leaders (Kingsbury 1986: 3). Kingsbury has conflicted notions of the narrative’s climax. Jesus’ crucifixion, the final commissioning of the disciples or both are the peak moment. 6 Conflict with the disciples plays an important, secondary role for plot development. Since the disciples are not Jesus’ opponents, the source of this conflict of “a fundamentally different order” is not enmity but merely “their periodic failure to comport themselves in a manner that befits sons of God (5:9, 45) and disciples of Jesus (10:1, 24–25)” (Kingsbury 1986: 8). Their point of view is human and they lack faith. Kingsbury offers astute observations about how the story in Matthew develops, while his understand-

3

Fifteen of the 20 Matthean episodes identified as “miracle stories” by KFW1 are analysed in the said volume. 4 Münch (2013a: 380–382) discusses form-, redaction- and composition-critical studies of the miracle stories, but dedicates no section to narrative criticism. Münch (2013a: 380– 381, 387–388) touches upon responses when speaking of form criticism and “zur theologischen Deutung der Wunder Jesu,” briefly, but other topics receive the lion’s share of attention, such as dialogue, faith and Jesus’ power and compassion. 5 Powell (1992: 187–193) and Yieh (2004: 30–31) provide surveys of conceptions of the plot of Mt. 6 In his earlier work Kingsbury writes (1986: 8, 91) both that “[t]he death of Jesus, of course, constitutes the primary resolution of his conflict with the Jewish leaders” (“his death serves as the central event of [his] mission... for he effects the salvation of all people from their sins”) and that “28.16–20 constitutes the major climax not only of the third part of Matthew’s story but also of his entire story....” Kingsbury’s later view (1992: 347) similarly lacks precision, though it favours one location more: “the ‘cross’ is the place where Jesus’ story reaches its culmination.”

186

Chapter 3: Matthew

ing of Jesus’ opponents can benefit from precision. 7 What seems lacking in his analysis, however, is attention to the character of God. Though God is rarely explicitly active, the character is still important to plot development, as can be seen, for example, from the many citations of prophetic text. Focusing on causality and looking backwards from the story’s last scene, Frank J. Matera (1987: 243) sees the plot as God’s fulfillment of his promises to Israel, Israel’s “rejection of Jesus’ messiahship and the movement of the Gospel from Israel to the nations.” Matera sees a pattern of possibilityprobability-contingency at play. The “climax of the entire Gospel” is the final episode (Mt 28.16–20). 8 Causality in the plot “produces a determinate affective response”: namely, “[t]he narrator expects the readers to worship Jesus as the risen Lord and to be confident that he is present to the church until the close of the age” (Matera 1987: 242). While Matera observes important elements of the narrative, in Matthew “causality is a less dominant principle for linking events than the motif of promise and fulfillment” (Powell 1992: 190). David Howell (1990: 111–113, 111) sees “two themes” as “central to Matthew’s plot”: those of promise/fulfillment and acceptance/rejection. The former “plotting device often takes the form of internal prolepses by ‘anticipating events which are not clearly defined but gradually come into focus as the narrative proceeds.’” 9 Promise/fulfillment also ties the gospel’s story of Jesus to the prior story of Israel, which it invokes. Regarding the acceptance/rejection of “God’s will,” Howell (1990: 113) proposes that “the correlatives acceptance/rejection give a more precise statement of this plot element than Kingsbury’s category of ‘conflict.’” This re-focusing allows for Jesus’ own conflict with temptation (Mt 4.1–11; 26.36–46) to be grouped under the same rubric as the conflict between Jesus and the Jewish authorities. Howell’s (1990: 133) analysis does not give specific attention to the motif of responses in miracle stories despite, for example, the awareness that “[i]n chapters 8–9 Matthew recounts a series of miracles which highlight the alternative responses of acceptance and rejection to Jesus’ ministry.” 10 How7 In the analysis, below, the relationship of the Pharisees, the one group of opponents to Jesus who respond in miracle stories, to other groups of opponents is spelled out with more exactness. The crowds, of course, are a different type of character, one which becomes adversarial only in Mt 27, under the influence of religious authorities. 8 Since Matera (1987: 245) uses “the great commission” to refer to the episode of Mt 28.16–20, it would seem that for him “the climax of the entire Gospel” is the episode, not just the speech of Jesus it contains. 9 Howell (1990: 112) is citing Culpepper (1983: 63). 10 On the other hand, Howell’s study has an important reader-response component. Again with Mt 8–9 as the example, Howell (1990: 135) states, “The alternatives of acceptance or rejection which are plotted in the miracle stories challenge the readers of the stories as well.”

State of the Question

187

ell (1990: 77, 182) speaks of both “the death-resurrection of Jesus” and, more narrowly, “the rejection and crucifixion of Jesus” as the “climax.” 11 Janice Capel Anderson (1994: 147), speaking of the plot’s “many... threads,” sees Jewish leaders, the crowds, the disciples, supplicants and Gentiles all involved in important ways. “Conflict arises over which groups will recognize, understand, and accept Jesus’ identity and mission” and a related guiding line of questioning is “[W]ho will help or hinder Jesus, when, why, and how?” (Anderson 1994: 146). Anderson (1994: 147) is agnostic as to “[w]hether the passion or the resurrection scene [sic] is the precise climax of the narrative.” She gives emphasis to one of the threads: “An important part of the developing plot is how the Gentiles receive Jesus and how he begins to extend his mission beyond Israel” (Anderson 1994: 146). Her conception of the plot can be viewed as a synthesis of some ideas presented by Kingsbury, Matera and Howell. Again, as with Kingsbury, the criticism can be levelled that insufficient attention is given to the character of God. For Mark Allan Powell (2009: 70) the main plot line is “the conflict between God and Satan,” which is “resolved positively” when “Jesus dies on the cross.” 12 Two subsidiary plot lines, interwoven with the main one, are Jesus’ conflicts with his disciples and with the religious leaders of Israel. The irony is that “Jesus must ‘lose’ his conflicts with the religious leaders and with his own disciples in order for the greater conflict between God and Satan to be resolved favorably” (Powell 2009: 70). 13 A key issue in the plot is “Jesus’ divine sonship” (Powell 1992: 199), which both God and the Satan affirm, though the latter tries to redefine it (Mt 3.17; 4.3, 6; 27.40; cf. 14.33; 16.16; 17.5). Powell’s perceptive analysis of the plot can be adopted along broad lines. One should focus less on titles of Jesus in Matthew, however. I have noted previously, as have many before me, that the narrative critical task produces only limited results. Noticeably, one must forego the valuable insights from study of the Vor- and Umwelt of traditions, including narrative patterns, contained in a text. Among the Gospels this is perhaps nowhere more lamentable than in the case of Matthew. References and allusions to other Jewish texts and traditions abound in this gospel. A select few of them 11

It would seem, then, that for Howell (1990: 157) the theme of promise/fulfillment has pride of place in the plot, since “[t]he question of whether to release Jesus or Barabbas represents the culmination of Matthew’s use of the correlatives acceptance/rejection to plot his Gospel.” 12 Powell is not more precise than what is cited regarding the peak moment. His use of the word “climax” (Powell 2009: 69–70; cf. 1992: 198) is even more vague, citing Mt 26.56, 69–75; 27.15–26 in addition to the mention of Jesus dying. The conflict, not of equal powers, Powell terms “God’s plan and Satan’s challenge” (Powell 1992: 199). 13 The disciples and religious leaders are used as pawns by the Satan to thwart Jesus’ redemptive mission.

188

Chapter 3: Matthew

will be treated in Chapter Seven. For now, though, I merely acknowledge once again the shortcomings of the approach used presently. I now turn to two monographs whose consideration of responses warrants attention. In his study of the crowds, 14 Robert Cousland (2002) investigates their positive and negative reactions to Jesus. He sees them as essentially welldisposed to Jesus, that is, up until his trial and condemnation in Jerusalem. His study addresses some of the miracle stories, notably those in which the crowds respond. Cousland devotes due attention to terms expressing emotion – θαυμάσαι, ἐκστῆναι, φοβηθῆναι, ἐκπλαγῆναι (this term does not appear in miracle stories) – and praise. Cousland correctly sees the characterisation of the crowds as less positive than that of the disciples and the various suppliants, yet superior to that of the religious leaders. Comparison between various characters’ responses in miracle stories contributes to this insightful analysis. Nevertheless, Cousland’s generally positive evaluation of the crowds’ responses would benefit from nuancing. The notion that an emotion experienced by a character in relation to Jesus’ teaching or miracle working “depicts a preliminary response that could, depending on the beholder, either lead to faith or away from it” (Cousland 2002: 136) does not hold true for the miracle stories. 15 Cousland’s study, which provides insights especially in 14 The use of “crowds” in the plural is warranted in the discussion of the respective character in Mt, since the plural is used so frequently in Greek, especially in early episodes (4.25; 5.1; 7.28; 8.1; 9.8, 23; cf. 8.18) (cf. Cousland 2002: 37–39). 15 The best candidate for an episode in which a character has a preliminary reaction followed by another is Mt 13.53–58 (see Cousland 2002: 127). Here amazement (ὥστε ἐκπλήσσεσθαι: 13.54), followed by extended speech (καὶ λέγειν: 13.54), gives way to rejection (καὶ ἐσκανδαλίζοντο: 13.57), a movement that is facilitated through the speech, which comes across almost as thought development. With the responses in miracle stories, on the other hand, Cousland would see the verbal element (δοξάσαι: 9.8; 15.31) as constituting the second response. In the first place, for reasons articulated in Chapter One, there is justification for taking the adjacent clauses in each instance (9.8; 15.31) together as one response. Moreover, here, as in other responses (see below, especially Section G) the emotional element is closely associated with the verbal element. In both 9.8 (ἐφοβήθησαν καὶ ἐδόξασαν) and 15.31 (ὥστε... θαυμάσαι... καὶ ἐδόξασαν – the intervening seeing element is a post-nuclear participle: βλέποντας) we are dealing with emotional and verbal elements as the main verbs in two clauses (whether dependent or independent) conjoined by καί. (In 13.54–57, the lengthy intervening speech has prominence equal to that of the amazement.) Furthermore Jesus’ reaction in 8.10 establishes a pattern: ἀκούσας δὲ ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἐθαύμασεν καὶ εἶπεν τοῖς ἀκολουθοῦσιν.... In this event cluster, introduced with δέ, the amazement and speech are closely linked (καί). An even closer association is seen between the emotional and verbal elements in the first response in a miracle story (8.27): οἱ δὲ ἄνθρωποι ἐθαύμασαν λέγοντες.... These precedents establish a pattern of close association between emotion and speech – for the former type see 9.8 (cf. 12.23 [without δέ]); for the latter see 9.33b; 14.26a [cf. 14.26b]; 21.20. Only 15.31 exhibits a different configuration.

State of the Question

189

comparison between characters and also between episodes, will be considered further in what follows. Michael Theophilos (2011), in studying Moses typology in Matthew, addresses the ten miracle stories in chapters 8 through 9, at least six of which have responses. He sees three cycles of miracles, with the last, comprising four stories, reaching a climax. Theophilos states (2011: 148): In response to all that has been narrated thus far in chapters 8–9, those who have witnessed Jesus [sic] mighty deeds respond as follows, “the crowds were amazed and said, ‘never has anything like this been seen in Israel.’ But the Pharisees said, ‘by the ruler of the demons he casts out the demons.’”

He argues that “the positive/negative dichotomy... could... be seen to support a Matthean allusion to Moses’ life” (Theophilos 2011: 152). Again, the present chapter being dedicated to narrative critical analysis, discussion of the proposed Moses typology is deferred until Chapter Seven. I consider below, however, Theophilos’ keen observations (replacing “dichotomy” with a less polarised “contrast”) about the responses in the progression of the stories of Matthew 8–9. Finally, I turn to two redaction-critical assessments of Matthean miracle stories. The one study dedicated to the miracle stories in Matthew, that of Heinz Joachim Held (1963), is still cited by many today as the definitive treatment of the subject. Given the unique and virtually uncontested status of the study it is worth consideration here, despite the focus on and assumptions inherent in redaction criticism. With respect to responses in miracle stories, Held’s study has muddied the waters some. He argues that Matthew, in interpreting the received tradition, “has standardised his healing miracles as conversations” (Held 1963: 242). The form, he claims, is entirely changed: “Admittedly, as far as content is concerned they report miracles, yet their form, as this is what matters, is in no way in the style of a miracle story” (Held 1963: 243). This is true especially, Held (1963: 231) claims, of the opening and closing of the stories: “[t]o the formal beginning of the healing story there corresponds, as a rule, a formal conclusion and both serve as a frame for the conversation of Jesus with the suppliant.” For Held (1963: 230) the “typical concluding formulae” are not responses, but a statement of healing. He cites four examples of “the conclusion” (Held 1963: 230, emphasis original), examples that are indeed notable for their similarity in sentence structure and vocabulary, in addition to content (Mt 8.13b; 9.22b; 15.28b; 17.18c). 16 In each case the said sentence comes at the close of the respective story or scene. No response is narrated. 16 καὶ ἰάθη ὁ παῖς ἐν τῇ ὥρᾳ ἐκείνῃ (Mt 8.13b); καὶ ἐσώθη ἡ γυνὴ ἀπὸ τῆς ὥρας ἐκείνης (9.22b); καὶ ἰάθη ἡ θυγάτηρ αὐτῆς ἀπὸ τῆς ὥρας ἐκείνης (15.28b); καὶ ἐθεραπεύθη ὁ παῖς ἀπὸ τῆς ὥρας ἐκείνης (17.18c).

190

Chapter 3: Matthew

On their own the data considered by Held support his argument. But the data surveyed are incomplete, the analysis impressionistic. Held briefly considers responses. But he does this to show, in a synoptic parallel within the Triple Tradition, how Luke (18.43b–c) has a response, where both Mark (10.52c) and Matthew (20.34c) do not. 17 Again, the data examined are far from comprehensive. As will be shown below, responses have an important role in many of Matthew’s miracle stories – and in this context, it can be specified, in stories of healings and exorcisms. Some of the responses, like the “concluding formulae” Held cites, are both rather formal in nature and occur in the final position in a story. 18 Held’s analysis shows the dangers inherent in focusing on what is distinctive of one gospel in relation to the others. It also reveals the weakness of looking solely for typical features of a given gospel, here Matthew. One should entertain the possibility also of how a typical feature may be given a “sudden tilt of innovation” or even be “refashion[ed]... radically” (Alter 1981: 52) for creative purposes. In examining a text with such possibilities in mind, due attention must be given to how expectations and patterns are established as the narrative unfolds – something redaction criticism is not equipped to consider. Held’s analysis will be considered again, in Chapter Six, when I turn to the question of the interrelations of the Gospels. Gerd Theissen believes that Matthew differs significantly from Mark with respect to characters’ recognition of who Jesus is. In Mark the key recognition comes towards the gospel’s end, in the mouth of the Roman executioner. In Matthew, Theissen (1974: 222) claims, “die Hoheit Jesu” is recognised by numerous characters, starting from the beginning, with the magi being a case in point. 19 This tendency is allegedly seen frequently in the miracle stories of Matthew, appearing in various ways. For example suppliants allegedly bespeak “von grenzenlosem Vertrauen” (Theissen 1974: 179). 20 Responses, too,

17

Held (1963: 223) argues that responses (“the praise of God and the publication of the miracle before all the people”), while “important” to Luke, is “an interest... on which no traceable emphasis is laid in Matthew.” Held sees a response in Lk 8.47 too, where one is absent in Mt 9.22 and, he alleges, Mk 5.33 (!). 18 Responses in healing stories can be formal, whether reporting is the main (sole) element (Mt 9.26; 9.31) or emotions and speech are key (Mt 9.8; 9.33b–34; 12.23–24; 15.31 – cf. responses in other types of miracle stories 8.27; 14.26; 21.20). Five of the six responses cited above (all save 12.23–24) occur in final position. At times a response (e.g. 8.33–34 – in final position) may bear less similarity with other responses. On all these points, see the discussion below. 19 “Jesus’ majesty.” The English translation here and in what follows is provided by Francis McDonagh in Theissen (1983). 20 “Limitless confidence.”

Miracle Stories with Responses

191

play an important role in this context. The disciples’ act of reverence and declaration in Mt 14.33 are notable (Theissen 1974: 179): Nach dem Seewandel steht bei Mt nicht mehr das Unverständnismotiv, sondern es folgen Proskynese und Akklamation (14,33). 21

Theissen’s comparison between Matthew and Mark is true only to a limited extent. As I intend to show in the analysis to follow, a later episode in Matthew throws substantial doubt on the disciples’ comprehension during the walking on water episode. Their act of prostration and statement there too, therefore, are recast as inadequate. Theissen moves forward the discussion found in previous studies by asking about the role of the miracle stories within the larger framework of Matthew. A short-coming inherent in his redaction-critical approach, however, limits the effectiveness of his analysis. For when Theissen considers the individual “motifs” and “themes” found in a given miracle story in relation to those in other stories, he does so primarily with general, collective comparisons. Individual miracle stories are taken to be “rounded-off,” independent episodes. Little effort is made to understand the stories within the unfolding of the narrative they are embedded in. 22 When considering responses, specifically, the criticism can be sharpened in the following manner. Attention should be given to specific characters and how their actions might be cast in a particular, even counter-intuitive light, given prior material or how the narrative might reinterpret the characters’ traits and actions during the course of events unfolding in later episodes.

B. Miracle Stories with Responses Matthew contains twenty nine miracle stories. 23 Miracles and summaries of miracles are present in some other contexts. 24 Responses are found in nine21 “After the walking on the water Matthew does not have the Marcan motif of incomprehensibility, but of prostration and acclamation.” 22 Yet see Theissen 1974: 210-211. 23 Münch (2013a: 379) counts only 20 miracle stories in Mt. He omits the three epiphany stories in chs. 1–2, the three others in ch. 28, the epiphany at Jesus’ baptism and the transfiguration. He takes 15.29–31 to be a summary, not a story. 24 Summaries of healings (/exorcisms) occur frequently enough: Mt 4.23, 25; 8.16; 9.35; 12.15; 14.14, 35–36; 19.2; 21.14–15; cf. 10.1, 8. (On how “[v]arious summaries are connected to one another by fairly long repetitions,” see Anderson [1994: 149]. While I accept 15.29–31 as a story not a summary, I observe, like Anderson [1994: 148], that all of the “summary passages” save one [11.1; cf. 4.23–25; 8.16; 9.35; 12.15–16; 14.13–14; 14.34–36; 19.1–2] “include references to Jesus’ healing activities.”) Brief mention of an

192

Chapter 3: Matthew

teen of the miracle stories, namely: the Angel of the Lord’s first appearance to Joseph (1.18–25); the Angel of the Lord’s second appearance to Joseph (2.13–15); the Angel of the Lord’s third appearance to Joseph (2.19–23); the stilling of the storm (8.23–27); the exorcism of two demon-possessed men near Gadara (8.28–34); the healing of the paralytic (9.1–8); the resurrection of the ruler’s daughter (9.18–19, 23–26); the healing of two blind men (9.27– 31); the exorcism of a mute demon-possessed man (9.32–34); the healing of the man with a withered hand (12.9–14); the exorcism of a blind and mute demon-possessed man (on collusion with Beelzebul) (12.22–45); the walking on water (14.23b–33); the healing of many (15.29–31); the transfiguration (17.1–8); the healing of two blind men in Jericho (20.29–34); the withering of the fig tree (21.18–22); the angelophany to Mary Magdalene and the other Mary (28.1–8); Jesus’ appearance to Mary Magdalene and the other Mary (28.9–10); and Jesus’ appearance to the eleven (28.16–20). What is probably a response (8.15d) in the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law (8.14–15) will be referred to parenthetically in the analysis to follow. One miracle story – the healing of the centurion’s child/slave (8.5–13) – has an inversion of the response motif, that is, Jesus’ amazement at the centurion’s exemplary faith and Jesus’ speech (8.10–12). Eight stories have neither a response nor anything similar to one. 25 The reaction of Jesus’ executioners – the centurion and those with him – to the earthquake and related events surrounding Jesus’ death bares similarity to the responses in miracle stories. All save one of the stories pertaining to rescue nature miracles and/or epiphanies have one or more responses (9 of 10 stories). Only roughly half of the remaining miracle stories contain the response motif (10 of 19).

C. Number of Responses within a Miracle Story Three miracle stories have more than one response. One has three responses: Matthew 17.4, 17.6 and 17.8. Two stories have two responses: 14.26 and

angelophany occurs at the end of one story (4.11). Cataclysmic events transpire (27.51– 54), miraculously, in the story of Jesus’ execution, including a story within a story. A story (2.1–12) with a warning dream, likely to be considered epiphanic given the nature of a preceding dream, is not considered a miracle story, owing to the very little attention paid to dreams (2.12). 25 I.e. theophany at Jesus’ baptism (Mt 3.13–17); healing of the leper (8.1–4); healing of the hemorrhaging woman (9.20–22); feeding of the five thousand (14.15–21); exorcism of the “Canaanite’s” daughter (15.21–28); feeding of the four thousand (15.32–38); exorcism of the demon–possessed boy (17.14–18); the stater in the fish’s mouth (17.24–27) – note in the latter story, the occurrence of the miracle is assumed, rather than narrated.

Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers

193

14.33; 26 28.4 and 28.8. Only rescue nature miracle and/or epiphany stories, therefore, have multiple responses. 27 Sixteen further stories have one response: 1.24–25; 2.14–15a; 2.21; 8.27; 8.33–34; 9.8; 9.26; 9.31; 9.33b–34; 12.14; 12.23–24; 15.31; 20.34c; 21.20; 28.9b–c; 28.17. Thus 23 responses are the focus of this chapter. Three miracles stories with responses contain more than one miracle (2.19–23; 14.23b–33; 17.1–8). 28 In one designation of a response an exception is made to the rule of subdivisions of verses (“a,” “b,” etc.) corresponding to independent clauses (2.14–2.15a). 29 Subdivisions within 15.31 also constitute an exception. 30

D. Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers As in the analysis of Mark, here too instances of an element are identified primarily as the main verb in a (subordinate or main) clause or a participial phrase. Redundant quotative frames (ἀποκριθεὶς... εἶπεν: Mt 17.4) are considered one instance of the verbal element. In addition, in one case two verbs pertaining to visual sensation are taken together as one instance of seeing. 31 Occasionally an adverbial (ἀπὸ τοῦ φόβου: 14.26b; ἀπὸ... τοῦ φόβου αὐτοῦ: 28.4) or portions of one (μετὰ φόβου καὶ χαρᾶς μεγάλης: 28.8) are taken to be distinct elements in themselves. A noun (ἐξῆλθεν ἡ φήμη αὕτη: 9.26) or an adjective (ἐγενήθησαν ὡς νεκροί: 28.4b) might be more indicative of the 26 Peter’s request for Jesus to invite him to walk on the water (Mt 14.28) is presented within a dialogue (14.27–29) that concludes with Peter leaving the boat and walking towards Jesus. (Note the articular pronoun in 14.29a, introducing Jesus’ speech, marks it as an intermediate step). Therefore it seems best not to take Peter’s speech and/or exit from the boat and subsequent actions as a response to Jesus’ uncanny appearance on the water per se, but as interaction within and to the dialogue. 27 Only two of seven epiphany stories with responses – and one of two rescue nature miracle stories – have multiple responses. 28 I do not include here occasions where the healing of two individuals (Mt 9.30; 20.34) or more (15.30) are denoted by a single aorist indicative verb, whether implicitly describing multiple acts of Jesus or not. In terms of the discourse in each case the healings together are represented as a singular event. 29 Mt 2.15b is the concluding fulfillment formula (purpose clause): ἵνα πληρωθῇ τὸ ῥηθὲν ὑπὸ κυρίου διὰ τοῦ προφήτου λέγοντος· ἐξ Αἰγύπτου ἐκάλεσα τὸν υἱόν μου. Mt 2.15a refers to the remainder of the sentence. 30 ὥστε τὸν ὄχλον θαυμάσαι βλέποντας κωφοὺς λαλοῦντας, κυλλοὺς ὑγιεῖς καὶ χωλοὺς περιπατοῦντας καὶ τυφλοὺς βλέποντας (Mt 15.31a); καὶ ἐδόξασαν τὸν θεὸν Ἰσραήλ (15.31b). 31 ἐπάραντες δὲ τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς αὐτῶν οὐδένα εἶδον εἰ μὴ αὐτὸν Ἰησοῦν μόνον (Mt 17.8).

194

Chapter 3: Matthew

type of element than the relevant verb. (Unlike in Mark, there are no instances in Matthew of the content of speech or substantives constituting occurrences of elements.) Thus in Matthew I identify 10 elements in responses – emotional, verbal, seeing, reporting, movement between locations, falling, other bodily movements, antagonism, doubt and hearing – in addition to some features I label “other.” Twelve instances of the emotional element are present in 10 of 23 responses (9 of 19 stories). The range of vocabulary is limited. Two words (both from the root φόβ*) express fear – φοβηθῆναι (Mt 9.8a; 17.6) 32 and φόβος (14.26b; 28.4; 28.8) – one marks being troubled – ταραχθῆναι (14.26a) – two denote amazement – θαυμάσαι (8.27; 9.33b; 15.31; 21.20; cf. 8.10a); ἐκστῆναι (12.23a) – one expresses joy – χαρά (28.8). Joy and fear come together in one response (28.8), fear and being troubled in another (14.26). Objects of the emotions are never specified. Once an adverb – ἐφοβήθησαν σφόδρα (17.6) – and once an adjective – χαρᾶς μεγάλης (28.8) – specify greater intensity. Once an emotion (fear) acts upon characters (28.4). 33 Upon examination of the types of miracles with emotional elements in the responses, a pattern emerges. Five of the six instances of fear and being troubled occur in rescue nature miracles and/or epiphanies (Mt 14.26a; 14.26b; 17.6; 28.4; 28.8). Alternatively four of the five instances of amazement occur in relation to other types of miracles: exorcism (9.33b; 12.23a); healing (15.31); a mundane nature miracle (21.20). The remaining instance of fear is found in a story of healing (9.8) and the other occurrence of amazement in a story of a rescue nature miracle (8.27). Related, Jesus reacts with amazement to the centurion’s faith in another story of healing (8.10a). Amazement at Jesus’ teaching (ἐκπλαγῆναι: 7.28; 13.54; 19.25; 22.33; θαυμάσαι: 22.22) also fits the pattern – fear does not occur in such a context (yet cf. 9.8). 34 For Jesus’ teaching is repeatedly associated with his activities of healing and exorcism. 35 Within miracle stories encouragement not to be afraid and a ques32 There is strong support for ἐφοβήθησαν (B ‫ א‬D W etc.) in Mt 9.8a. The reading ἐθαύμασαν (C N S etc.) likely began as a perceived emendation (by a copyist or editor) of what seemed like an inappropriate emotion (fear). 33 This seems the best understanding of Mt 28.4a (ἀπὸ δὲ τοῦ φόβου αὐτοῦ ἐσείσθησαν), though the same phrase elsewhere does not collocate with a passive verb (14.26b). 34 The amazement in Mt 13.54 is also at Jesus’ healing. Note Pilate is once amazed at Jesus’ silence (27.14). 35 Jesus heals and teaches/proclaims the good news of the kingdom in synagogues (Mt 4.23; 9.35; 12.9–14; 13.53–58) and in the temple (21.14, 23–27 etc.). These tasks are also given to his disciples (10.1–8). Jesus’ paradigmatic initial teaching (Mt 5–7) is bound to his performance of healings and exorcisms, both before (4.24b–25) and after (8.1–17). Specific healings (9.1–8; 12.9–14), exorcisms (12.22–45; 17.14–20) and the cursing of the fig tree (21.18–22) are also commonly occasions for Jesus’ teaching (though see 17.1–13).

Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers

195

tion as to why one is afraid occur only in the context of rescue nature miracles and epiphanies. 36 On the basis of the emotions in responses, then, rescue nature miracle and/or epiphany stories (fear) are set apart from the others (amazement). The verbal element is slightly more common than the emotional one: 13 instances in 10 responses (9 stories). The majority (8 instances) have direct discourse, most often as (a) statement(s) (9.33b, 34; 12.24; 14.33; 17.4; cf. 8.10b–12, 13a), but also as a question (8.27; 12.23; 21.20). 37 The verb consistently used in these instances is εἰπεῖν(/λέγειν). Just once does another verb, ἀποκριθῆναι (17.4), accompany it, in a redundant quotative frame. In two thirds of the instances Jesus is the sole topic of the speech, whether slander (9.34; 12.24), commendation (14.33), questions (8.27; 12.23) or another utterance is in mind (14.26). 38 In one case focus seems more on the exorcism Jesus effects than on him. 39 Once a statement is intended to honour Jesus, alongside Moses and Elijah. 40 A miracle, a withered fig tree, is the focus of one question. 41 In both cases where Jesus is the addressee a comment seeks to honour him (14.33; 17.4). Other than these, an addressee is not specified (though cf. 8.10b–12, 13a). Speech is probably to be seen as interaction between members of the group speaking, though in two cases (9.33b–34; 12.23– 24) speech of different characters (οἱ ὄχλοι and οἱ Φαρισαῖοι) may be seen, in part, as their dialogue also. Concerning indirect speech, one instance is a request for Jesus to leave (παρεκάλεσαν ὅπως μεταβῇ ἀπὸ τῶν ὁρίων αὐτῶν: 8.34b). 42 In another Jesus is understood to be a ghost (λέγοντες ὅτι 36 In six of 10 rescue nature miracle and/or epiphany stories (one of) the epiphanic character(s) states a question or makes a reassuring comment pertaining to fear: μὴ φοβηθῇς παραλαβεῖν Μαρίαν τὴν γυναῖκά σου (Mt 1.20); τί δειλοί ἐστε, ὀλιγόπιστοι; (8.26); θαρσεῖτε, ἐγώ εἰμι· μὴ φοβεῖσθε (14.27); ἐγέρθητε καὶ μὴ φοβεῖσθε (17.7); μὴ φοβεῖσθε ὑμεῖς (28.5); μὴ φοβεῖσθε (28.10). 37 Only in Mt 17.4 does the direct speech contain more than one sentence. 38 In similar phraseology Jesus’ exorcist power is slandered: ἐν τῷ ἄρχοντι τῶν δαιμονίων ἐκβάλλει τὰ δαιμόνια (Mt 9.34); οὗτος οὐκ ἐκβάλλει τὰ δαιμόνια εἰ μὴ ἐν τῷ Βεελζεβοὺλ ἄρχοντι τῶν δαιμονίων (12.24). Commendation comes as a short phrase: ἀληθῶς θεοῦ υἱὸς εἶ (14.33). Questions pertain to his identity – ποταπός ἐστιν οὗτος ὅτι καὶ οἱ ἄνεμοι καὶ ἡ θάλασσα αὐτῷ ὑπακούουσιν; (8.27 [B ‫ ;]א‬in other manuscripts [C S etc.] the last two words are ὑπακούουσιν αὐτῷ); μήτι οὗτός ἐστιν ὁ υἱὸς Δαυίδ; (12.23) – as does another utterance: φάντασμά ἐστιν (14.26). 39 οὐδέποτε ἐφάνη οὕτως ἐν τῷ Ἰσραήλ (Mt 9.33b). 40 κύριε, καλόν ἐστιν ἡμᾶς ὧδε εἶναι· εἰ θέλεις, ποιήσω ὧδε τρεῖς σκηνάς, σοὶ μίαν καὶ Μωϋσεῖ μίαν καὶ Ἠλίᾳ μίαν (Mt 17.4 [Bc]). Of the many variant readings for this speech utterance, only ποιήσωμεν (Cc D S W) vs. ποιήσω (B ‫ א‬C*) is of significance here, the remainder being variant spellings of names and variations in order of noun and numeral. 41 πῶς παραχρῆμα ἐξηράνθη ἡ συκῆ; (Mt 21.20). 42 ὅπως μεταβῇ (‫ א‬A C D etc.) is probably to be preferred to ἵνα μεταβῇ (B and W).

196

Chapter 3: Matthew

φάντασμά ἐστι: 14.26a). One of two instances of praise to God – δοξάσαι (9.8b; 15.31b) – also involves indirect speech: ἐδόξασαν τὸν θεὸν τὸν δόντα ἐξουσίαν τοιαύτην τοῖς ἀνθρώποις (9.8b). The remaining instance of the verbal element is a scream: κράξαι (14.26b). 43 Rarely are there adverbials (twice) 44 or direct objects (twice). 45 The verbal element appears in responses in various types of miracle stories. Still, it is to be noted that the two instances of praise appear in stories of healing. 46 The element of seeing occurs seven times (in 7 responses, 7 stories). The principal verb involved in each case is ἰδεῖν (8.34b; 9.8a; 14.26a; 15.31; 17.8; 21.20; 28.17a). In one case an idiom is used in addition: ἐπᾶραι τοὺς ὀφθαλμούς (17.8). Twice no object is specified; once healed persons are the object; in the remaining instances it is Jesus. 47 No adverbials occur. The element is found among nature rescue miracles and/or epiphany stories and other stories. 48 Reporting happens just four times (in 4 responses, 4 stories). The words/phraseology used are: ἀπαγγεῖλαι (8.33b; 28.8); διαφημίσαι (9.31); and ἐξῆλθεν ἡ φήμη αὕτη (9.26). 49 Twice the object is specified: πάντα καὶ τὰ τῶν δαιμονιζομένων (8.33b); αὐτόν (9.31). Only once the addressees are mentioned: τοῖς μαθηταῖς αὐτοῦ (28.8). With similar wording twice adverbial constituents note the extent of the reach of reporting: εἰς ὅλην τὴν γῆν ἐκείνην (9.26) ἐν ὅλῃ τῇ γῇ ἐκείνῃ (9.31). It is worth nothing that occasionally Jesus commands silence about a miracle that has transpired. 50 Alterna43 κράξαι (Mt 14.26b), modified by ἀπὸ τοῦ φόβου, does not indicate something verbal, per se, but vocal. 44 One adverbial specifies Jesus as the addressee (Mt 17.4: τῷ Ἰησοῦ), the other describes fear as the cause of the scream (14.26b: ἀπὸ τοῦ φόβου ἔκραξαν). 45 In both cases the phrase is similar: ἐδόξασαν τὸν θεὸν Ἰσραήλ (Mt 15.31b); ἐδόξασαν τὸν θεὸν τὸν δόντα... (9.8b). 46 The remaining 11 instances have this distribution – rescue nature miracle and/or epiphany: Mt 8.27; 14.26a,b; 14.33; 17.4 – mundane nature miracle: 21.20 – exorcism: 8.34b; 9.33b, 34; 12.23, 24. (Cf. 8.10b–12, 13a [healing].) 47 With no object: Mt 9.8; 21.20. With healed persons: βλέποντας κωφοὺς λαλοῦντας, κυλλοὺς ὑγιεῖς καὶ χωλοὺς περιπατοῦντας καὶ τυφλοὺς βλέποντας (15.31; some manuscripts have κωφοὺς ἀκούοντας [καὶ λαλοῦντας]: B N 1071). With Jesus: ἰδόντες αὐτόν (Mt 8.34b [cf. 8.34a]; 28.17); ἰδόντες αὐτὸν ἐπὶ τῆς θαλάσσης περιπατοῦντα (14.26); οὐδένα εἶδον εἰ μὴ αὐτὸν Ἰησοῦν μόνον (17.8 [B* Θ 700] – among variant readings εἰ μὴ τὸν Ἰησοῦν μόνον [Bc C* S U etc.] is notable for the number and quality of witnesses). 48 An exorcism (Mt 8.34); healings (15.31); a mundane nature miracle (21.20); rescue nature miracles (9.8; 14.26); epiphanies (17.8; 28.17). 49 In Mt 9.26 ἡ φήμη αὕτη (B S N W) is a better attested reading than ἡ φήμη αὐτῆς (‫א‬ C etc.). 50 Jesus’ command to not report occurs in both stories without responses (Mt 8.4) and with them (9.30; cf. 17.9). Regarding the latter, the following response (9.31) has reporting, despite the negative injunction.

Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers

197

tively, a positive command to report occurs in three other stories. 51 Twice it is obeyed, whether in a response (28.8) or in a subsequent story (28.11). 52 Once compliance or its lack is not noted (cf. 8.4). The reporting element occurs three times in stories of healing, once in an epiphany story (28.8). There are 14 occurrences of movement between locations (in 9 responses, 9 stories). Movement to a distant location, specified by an adverbial, is twice noted: ἀναχωρῆσαι (2.14b), εἰσελθεῖν (2.21b). 53 Fleeing (φυγεῖν: 8.33a; and, related, ἀπελθόντες εἰς τὴν πόλιν: 8.33b), departing quickly (ἀπελθοῦσαι ταχὺ ἀπὸ τοῦ μνημείου: 28.8) 54 and running (δραμεῖν: 28.8) 55 occur. Following Jesus does too: ἠκολούθησαν αὐτῷ (20.34c). There is one instance each of coming to Jesus (as a result of hearing about a miracle) – ἐξῆλθεν εἰς ὑπάντησιν τῷ Ἰησοῦ (8.34a) 56 – and approaching him (following a postresurrection appearance) – προσελθεῖν (28.9b). 57 Twice generic motion away is described, without adverbials (ἐξελθόντες: 9.31; 12.14). The act of taking someone with/along, occurring three times (always παρέλαβεν: 1.24b; 2.14a; 2.21a), is unique in that it conceptually involves the movement of more than one party. (It potentially connotes, in addition, some movement of the body.) In each case the object(s) are specified; once an adverbial specifies the time of the act. 58 The distribution of this action among types of miracle stories will be discussed presently, in Section E. For the other actions mentioned in this paragraph there is no significant pattern of distribution. There are five instances of bodily posturing towards the ground (in 5 responses, 5 stories). For ease of reference this element will be called “falling,” though I recognise that there is more diversity semantically. Three times the verb προσκυνῆσαι (14.33; 28.9c; 28.17a) is used, expressing prostration be-

51 Both an angel (Mt 28.7) and Jesus (28.10) command the reporting of Jesus’ resurrection. Note is the epiphany in question the content per se of what is commanded to be reported. 52 To be precise, in both cases the intent to obey is narrated (through going), though the reporting itself is only assumed later (Mt 28.16). 53 εἰς Αἴγυπτον; (Mt 2.14b); εἰς γῆν Ἰσραήλ (2.21b). In 2.21b the reading εἰσῆλθεν (B ‫א‬ C) is preferable to ἦλθεν (D N S W etc.). 54 Though ἀπελθόντες is a superior reading (B ‫ א‬C etc.), ἐξελθόντες is a notable variant (A D S W etc.) 55 The verb of the clause is further modified by μετὰ φόβου καὶ χαρᾶς μεγάλης. 56 While ὑπάντησιν τῷ Ἰησοῦ (B Θ) is the superior reading, a number of variants occur: ὑπάντησιν τοῦ Ἰησοῦ (‫ ;)א‬συνάντησιν τοῦ Ἰησοῦ (C 157); συνάντησιν τῷ Ἰησοῦ (S N W etc.). 57 Related, in Mt 14.33 in some older manuscripts (C* D P S W etc.) ἐλθόντες precedes προσεκύνησαν. The best manuscripts do not have the participle (B ‫ א‬Cc N). 58 Objects: τὴν γυναῖκα αὐτοῦ (Mt 1.24b); τὸ παιδίον καὶ τὴν μητέρα αὐτοῦ (2.14a); τὸ παιδίον καὶ τὴν μητέρα αὐτοῦ (2.21a). Adverbial of time: νυκτός (2.14a).

198

Chapter 3: Matthew

fore Jesus, who is twice specified. 59 Falling on one’s face occurs once: ἔπεσαν ἐπὶ πρόσωπον αὐτῶν (17.6). The extreme description of becoming as though dead (ἐγενήθησαν ὡς νεκροί: 28.4b) 60 can justifiably be included in this grouping, though the concept of physical immobility is connoted as much as falling is and the act is involuntary. All five instances occur in stories of epiphanies (28.4b; 28.9c; 28.17a) and/or rescue nature miracles (14.33; 17.6). Various other bodily movements, of which there are five instances (in 5 responses, 5 stories), constitute a conceptually more heterogeneous group than in the case of other elements (emotional, verbal, seeing, reporting, movement, falling). Getting up occurs three times (always ἐγερθείς: 1.24a; 2.14a; 2.21a). 61 This action appears only in epiphany stories, as do two others: being shaken (σεισθῆναι: 28.4a), 62 evidently involuntary; grabbing Jesus’ feet (ἐκράτησαν αὐτοῦ τοὺς πόδας: 28.9b). (Related, see the occurrence of serving: διηκόνει αὐτῷ [8.15d].) There is a single instance of explicit antagonism, namely conspiring (against Jesus): συμβούλιον ἔλαβον κατ᾿ αὐτοῦ ὅπως αὐτὸν ἀπολέσωσιν (Mt 12.14). There is one instance of doubt (διστάσαι: 28.17), without further specification. 63 Hearing is noted twice, with a single word (ἀκούσαντες: Mt 12.24; 17.6; cf. 8.10a). Four instances remain that do not fit within the categorisation scheme used above. A generalised statement of obedience occurs: ἐποίησεν ὡς προσέταξεν αὐτῷ ὁ ἄγγελος κυρίου (1.24). 64 Once abstention from sexual relations is mentioned. 65 Naming a child occurs once. 66 The last two types of (in-)action are more social in nature than physical, cognitive or verbal. Thus they are listed here. Once remaining in a location is indicated (ἦν ἐκεῖ: 2.15a), with an adverbial of time. 67 The instance is listed here because it is not an inversion of the motif of relocating (see the analysis in Section Q, below).

59 Mt 14.33 and 28.9c (B ‫ א‬D): προσεκύνησαν αὐτῷ. Some witnesses do not have a pronoun in 28.9c (A S W etc.). 60 In Mt 28.4b ἐγενήθησαν (B ‫ א‬C* D 33) is preferable to ἐγένοντο (A Cc S W etc.). 61 διεγερθείς (Cc D S W etc.) is not preferable to ἐγερθείς (B ‫ א‬C*) at Mt 1.24. 62 The verb is modified by ἀπὸ... τοῦ φόβου αὐτοῦ. 63 Since the element of belief is important in responses in Jn (see below, Chapter Five, Section D), this otherwise anomalous element in Mt is identified specifically, to serve later comparative purposes. On the other hand the motif of belief, little faith and doubt are important in miracle stories, generally, in Mt (see below, Section Q). 64 Note this statement comes as a generalisation, prior to Joseph’s specific acts of obedience (Mt 1.24b–25). 65 οὐκ ἐγίνωσκεν αὐτὴν ἕως οὗ ἔτεκεν υἱόν (Mt 1.25a). 66 καὶ ἐκάλεσεν τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ Ἰησοῦν (Mt 1.25b). 67 ἕως τῆς τελευτῆς Ἡρῴδου (Mt 2.15b).

Combinations of Elements within Responses

199

E. Combinations of Elements within Responses What patterns can be observed for combinations of elements within the responses? The first three responses to appear in the narrative set themselves apart as a group on account of their common constellation of elements, not found elsewhere. The responses share certain elements (bodily motion – specifically, rising – and movement – specifically, taking along/with), words and even morphology: ἐγερθείς (1.24a; 2.14a; 2.21a); παρέλαβεν (1.24b; 2.14a; 2.21a). Two responses possess verbatim phraseology (ὁ δὲ ἐγερθεὶς παρέλαβεν: 2.14a; 2.21a). In them the third and final “main” 68 element is also identical (moving to a distant location), a type of movement which does not appear in any other response. The remaining four elements, in two responses (1.24a, 25 [three]; 2.15 [one]), are each unique. 69 So the elements in these three responses are either common to two of them or all three or not shared with any other response. The three relevant stories are all of angelophanies. These three responses, then, along with the four that consist of just one element (9.26 [reporting]; 17.4 [verbal]; 17.8 [seeing]; 20.34c [following]; cf. 8.15d [serving]) are bracketed from the following discussion, leaving 16 responses for analysis. The most commonly collocating elements are emotional and verbal, occurring in seven responses. 70 Many of the instances of direct speech (6:8) occur within these responses, covering a variety of types of stories. 71 At the same time, when the collocation of emotion and speech is considered generally, the distinction between types of stories based on the emotion (fear / being troubled or amazement) is only slightly less clear. 72

68 “Main” elements are all those listed in Section D (above), besides those instances designated “other.” 69 A generalised statement of obedience, abstention from sexual relations, naming a child and remaining in a location are among the only elements that do not fit in the categorisation scheme in Section D, above. Thus, notably, the three responses have in common an absence of some of the most frequent elements (emotional, seeing, verbal, reporting). 70 The seven responses account for the majority of appearances of both elements (8:12 [emotional]; 10:13 [verbal]): Mt 8.27; 9.8; 9.33b–34; 12.23–24; 14.26; 15.31; 21.20. 71 Rescue nature miracle and/or epiphany: Mt 8.27 (question). Mundane miracle: 21.20 (question). Exorcism: 9.33b–34 (twice); 12.23–24 (twice – once a question). Unless otherwise noted, the speech is a statement. The four other instances of the verbal element in the said collocation are: indirect speech about a ghost (14.26a), a related scream (14.26b) and two instances of praise (9.8; 15.31). 72 The verbal element collocates with fear/being troubled in one healing (Mt 9.8 [praise]) and one story of rescue nature miracle and/or epiphany (14.26 [twice]). The latter story type is represented only once (8.27) in the 5 instances where amazement is present (exorcism: 9.33b–34; 12.23–24; healing: 15.31 [praise]; mundane nature miracle: 21.20).

200

Chapter 3: Matthew

Emotion collocates with seeing in four responses (with no preference for the type of emotion). 73 It collocates (as fear) with falling (other than proskynesis) twice 74 and with each of movement and reporting just once (28.8 for both). It is perhaps noteworthy that just one of six relevant responses containing movement also contain an emotional component. In contrast all three responses with reporting that are relevant have movement as well. 75 The verbal element is found in five of the six relevant responses containing seeing. 76 The only triple collocation that occurs more than once is that of emotion, speech and seeing, found together in four responses. Three of these account for the instances of the verbal element other than direct speech, including the only two instances of praise. 77 Here, too, various story types are represented. 78 On average responses in stories that may be termed epiphanic have more elements than those in other stories. 79 Interestingly, five of the six of the remaining stories of rescue nature miracles and/or epiphanies, when the narrative’s first three epiphany stories are bracketed, contain the instances of physical positioning towards the ground (14.33; 17.6; 28.4; 28.9c; 28.17 – the exception is the story containing the response in 8.27).

73

Fear/being troubled: Mt 9.8; 14.26. Amazement: 15.31; 21.20. The acts of falling and becoming as dead (also shaking), not proskynesis, are those accompanied by an emotion (fear): Mt 17.6; 28.4. The three instances of proskynesis come with speech only (Mt 14.33 – though see above, n. 57, for a variant), seeing and doubt (28.17) or approach and grasping Jesus’ feet (28.9b–c). Falling collocates with other bodily motions twice (28.4; 28.9b–c). 75 Mt 8.33–34; 9.31; 28.8. 76 Mt 8.33–34; 9.8; 14.26; 15.31; 21.20. 77 Mt 14.26 (twice); 9.8; 15.31. The remaining response with the triple collocation is 21.20. 78 Rescue nature miracle and/or epiphany: Mt 14.26. Mundane miracle: 21.20. Healing: 9.8; 15.31 (praise in each case). 79 In the epiphany stories at the narrative’s opening and close, responses have two (28.4; 28.9b–c) to three or more different types of elements (1.24–25; 2.14–15a; 2.21; 28.8; 28.17). Responses in the two rescue nature miracle stories, too, have two (8.27;14.33; 20.34c) or three (14.26) different kinds of elements. Only in the transfiguration does a response (17.4) or possibly two (17.8 – if not taken along with 17.6) have only one element. The remaining response there (17.6) has three kinds of components (or four, if 17.8 is read together with it). In contrast, stories of other types of miracles have responses containing on average fewer elements: one (9.26; 20.34c), two (9.31; 9.33b–34; 12.14; cf. 12.23–24 [which also has the once occurring element of hearing]); three (9.8; 21.20) and, once, four (8.33–34). (Note two responses, containing a generic movement away may be considered as having effectively only one [main] element: 9.31; 12.14). 74

Relative Priority of Elements

201

F. Relative Priority of Elements Do any elements of the responses typically receive a specific level of prominence in the discourse? Does the relative priority of elements for a given collocation exhibit a pattern? The following analysis will show that the responses contain a moderate level of formality, particularly with respect to the relative priority of emotional, verbal, falling and seeing elements. On the other hand, the movement element does not fall into an observable pattern. A similar scheme and procedure is adopted here as in Chapter Two, Section F. In Table 1 (see below) the relative prominence of elements in a given response are represented thus: background material (–), demoted event/action via a subordinated clause (+), an elaboration on a mainline event via a postnuclear participial clause ( –), mainline event (default level of prominence) ( ), highlighted mainline event ( +). 80 In addition a plus sign (+) is used to represent a noun that acts as an adverbial (Mt 14.26b; 28.4; 28.8 [twice]). And once a check mark with a minus sign ( –) represents a post-nuclear infinitive clause (28.8). Which elements are most frequently mainline events? For those components that occur four times or more the absolute numbers of mainline events ( +, ) are as follows: movement (9); emotional (7); verbal (6); falling (5); reporting (3); seeing (1). In relative numbers the components are mainline events in the following frequencies: falling (5:5), reporting (3:4), movement (9:14), emotional (7:12), verbal (6:13), seeing (1:7). Note that if post-nuclear participles are also included ( –), then the verbal element is in absolute terms (11) the most frequent and in relative terms (11:13) the second most common. In the discussion of relative prominence within given responses to follow, the first three responses in the narrative (1.24–25; 2.14–15a; 2.21) are excluded, owing to their shared, peculiar nature, which differentiates them from all other responses. Naturally, responses with only one component (Mt 9.26; 17.4; 17.8; 20.34c; cf. 8.15d) are also bracketed from the discussion. When multiple instances of one or more components occur in a response, I compare the most prominent instance of the element(s).

80

I do not note redundant quotative frames here. The verbal element is marked once, even when two verbs describe the relevant direct / indirect speech (e.g. Mt 1.27; 2.12b).

28.17 28.9b–c 28.8 28.4 21.20 20.34c 17.8 17.6 17.4 15.31 14.33 14.26 12.23–24 12.14 9.33b–34 9.31 9.26 9.8 8.33–34 8.27 2.21 2.14–15a 1.24–25 –

Reporting

+

+

–

+

+

Hearing

–

– +

+

+ +,

+

Grasping

+

Shaking

, +,

Falling

,–

+ +

Seeing

+, + +

Emotional

– , –,

–

–

Verbal

+ ,+ –

+

– , –,

Other

+ + + Rising

, , Movement

Chapter 3: Matthew

202

Table 1: Relative prominence of elements in responses

Doubt

Conspiring

Order of Appearance of Elements

203

First, the general observation can be made that the single instance of visual sensation is always the least prominent component in the responses it appears in. This observation includes five responses with seeing and speech and four with seeing and emotion. In five of seven relevant responses visual sensation is denoted by a pre-nuclear participle (8.34b; 9.8; 14.26; 21.20; 28.17). The five instances of falling are always among the most prominent elements in the respective responses. In six of seven relevant responses emotions are as prominent or more than speech. 81 Beyond specific collocations, the observation can be made that in seven of 10 responses emotion is as prominent or more so than other components (8.27; 9.8; 9.33b–34; 14.26; 15.31; 17.6; 21.20). Making a distinction between stories of epiphany and other miracles does not modify the observation. No consistency in levels of prominence exists for the three responses containing movement and reporting. I make one more general observation: in five of 10 responses containing speech (one instance of) the component is a post-nuclear participle. 82 In three of four responses with the triple collocation, emotion and speech have equal prominence, while seeing is demoted (9.8; 14.26; 15.31; cf. 21.20). In two cases of the triple collocation, tendencies of the verbal (post-nuclear participle) and seeing (pre-nuclear) elements coincide, with an emotion as the main-line event: ἰδόντες... ἐταράχθησαν λέγοντες... (14.26); ἰδόντες... ἐθαύμασαν λέγοντες... (21.20). 83 The above considerations further establish that emotions receive prominence in the responses. Speech, to a lesser degree, does too. Seeing, while occurring frequently enough, is the component that is consistently demoted.

G. Order of Appearance of Elements Here I examine the order of appearance of elements in the 19 responses that contain two or more elements. I will principally show that emotion, speech, seeing, reporting and movement frequently appear in specific places within the responses, whether absolutely or with respect to other elements in common collocations. This observation is especially true for emotion, speech and

81 Emotion is more prominent than speech three times (Mt 8.27; 9.33b–34; 21.20), equally prominent three times (9.8; 14.26b; 15.31), less prominent only once (12.23–24). 82 In just two of five relevant responses movement is (among) the most prominent element(s). 83 The two sentences in full: οἱ δὲ μαθηταὶ ἰδόντες αὐτὸν ἐπὶ τῆς θαλάσσης περιπατοῦντα ἐταράχθησαν λέγοντες ὅτι φάντασμά ἐστιν (Mt 14.26); καὶ ἰδόντες οἱ μαθηταὶ ἐθαύμασαν λέγοντες· πῶς παραχρῆμα ἐξηράνθη ἡ συκῆ; (21.20).

204

Chapter 3: Matthew

visual sensation. The analysis demonstrates that the responses in Matthew have a formal quality. Considerations of relative priority further support the idea. The first three responses (see Table 2, below) stand apart, as they all begin with rising which is followed shortly (1.24b) or immediately (2.14a; 2.21a) by taking along/with (παρέλαβεν), being the next main component. The last two have in common, also, a subsequent element (movement to a distant location). Considering also prominence (see Table 1, above), the three are further tied together. Rising is a demoted event (pre-nuclear participle) and παρέλαβεν denotes a mainline event. Given the unique nature of these three responses, then, they will not be considered in the discussion remaining in this section. In all five responses with movement, the component comes in the initial position. In four cases (not 8.33–34) a pre-nuclear aorist participle is in view: ἐξελθόντες (9.31; 12.14); ἀπελθοῦσαι (28.8); προσελθοῦσαι (28.9b–c). In four of six relevant responses visual sensation is initial, absolutely (9.8; 14.26; 21.20; 28.17 – for the exceptions, 15.31 and 8.33–34, it occurs in the middle or towards the end, respectively). Considering prominence as well, in each case it is a pre-nuclear participle. In five of 10 relevant responses the (or an instance of) emotion comes in the initial position (8.27; 9.33b–34; 12.23–24; 15.31; 28.4). 84 In four responses one (or two) instance(s) of the emotional element follows immediately after another, opening component (9.8; 14.26; 21.20; 28.8 [two] – in three cases it is seeing [see below]). Once the emotion comes last (17.6). 85

84 Only one of the 10 responses has merely one instance each of two elements. Not merely binary options are the norm, then, in what is presently under consideration. 85 This accounts for all instances of emotion in the relevant responses, save the second instance in Mt 14.26 [14.26c], which is in the second last position.

205

Order of Appearance of Elements

Table 2: Order of appearance of elements 86 1.24–25 2.14–15a 2.21 8.27 8.33–34 9.8 9.26 9.31 9.33b–34 12.14 12.23–24 14.26 14.33 15.31 17.4 17.6 17.8 20.34c 21.20 28.4 28.8 28.9b–c 28.17

86

Rising Rising Rising Emotion Move Seeing Reporting Move Emotion Move Emotion Seeing Falling Emotion Verbal Hearing Seeing Move Seeing Emotion Move Move Seeing

Other Taking Taking Verbal Move Emotion Reporting Verbal Conspire Verbal Emotion Verbal Seeing

Taking Move Move

Other Other

Other

Reporting Praise

Move

Seeing

Verbal Emotion

Verbal

Move

Reporting

Verbal

Verbal Hearing Verbal Praise

Falling

Emotion

Emotion Bodily Emotion Bodily Falling

Verbal Falling Emotion Falling Doubt

Note “move”=movement between locations; “taking”=taking with/along; “falling”=falling/prostrating and, in one case, becoming as though dead (Mt 28.4b); “bodily”=other bodily motion. It has seemed expedient to specify in the table some special subsets of movement between locations (taking) and other bodily motion (rising and falling). (Unnecessary complexity would have resulted had the table specified the remaining instances, whether, on the one hand, movement to a distant location, fleeing, departing quickly, running, following, coming to Jesus and approaching him or, on the other, being shaken and grabbing Jesus’ feet.) Similarly, the two instances of praise are specified in the table, though in the analysis they are considered, generally, as instances of the verbal element.

206

Chapter 3: Matthew

In all of the seven responses containing the collocation (8 instances), the emotion precedes the verbal element, whether immediately (8.27; 9.8; 9.33b; 12.23; 14.26 [twice]; 87 21.20) or with one intervening element (15.31 [seeing comes between]). In four cases an emotion is modified by a post-nuclear participle – ἐθαύμασαν(...) λέγοντες (8.27; 9.33b; 21.20); ἐταράχθησαν λέγοντες (14.26a). 88 (Note, for all responses, when direct speech is involved there is some propensity for the verbal element to be a post-nuclear participle [five of nine instances of direct speech: 14.33, in addition to the four instances just mentioned].) In two of the three other instances in which speech follows immediately after the emotion, parallel syntax and prominence in the discourse are exhibited: 9.8 (ἐφοβήθησαν καὶ ἐδόξασαν); 12.23 (ἐξίσταντο... καὶ ἔλεγον) – the other instance is 14.26b (ἀπὸ τοῦ φόβου ἔκραξαν). In the remaining case the intervening visual sensation is relatively less prominent than the other two elements: 15.31 (θαυμάσαι βλέποντας... καὶ ἐδόξασαν). This pattern of constituent order actually works against the association of rescue nature miracles stories (8.27; 14.26a, b) with epiphany stories (no occurrences), aligning them more with other miracle stories (healing: 9.8; 15.31; exorcism: 9.33b; 12.23; mundane nature miracle: 21.20). In all five responses where the collocation is found seeing precedes speech, whether an emotion comes between them (9.8; 14.26a; 21.20 – reproduced below) or nothing does: ἰδόντες αὐτὸν παρεκάλεσαν... (8.34b); βλέποντας... καὶ ἐδόξασαν (15.31). Seeing immediately precedes (an instance of) emotion in three of the four relevant responses (9.8; 14.26a; 21.20). In the remaining response (15.31) the order is reversed, with nothing in between. In all three relevant responses moving (one or two instances) immediately precedes reporting: ἀπελθόντες... ἀπήγγειλαν (8.33b); ἐξελθόντες διεφήμισαν (9.31); ἀπελθοῦσαι... ἔδραμον ἀπαγγεῖλαι (28.8). The first two instances have in common as well an order of relative prominence and verb forms (aorist participle preceding a mainline event). In three of four responses in which the triple collocation is found the order is as follows: seeing, emotional and verbal. In addition, as noted in the foregoing section, in two cases the elements have a common pattern of prominence and even significant verbal identity: ἰδόντες... ἐταράχθησαν λέγοντες... (14.26); ἰδόντες... ἐθαύμασαν λέγοντες... (21.20). The other instance with this order similarly has seeing as a (verbally identical) prenuclear participle and the emotion as a main event: ἰδόντες... ἐφοβήθησαν καὶ ἐδόξασαν... (9.8). These three instances, then, share much in common.

87

In Mt 14.26 two pairs of emotion and speech occur one after the other. In the remaining case (Mt 14.33), speech is a constraint on the sense of the prostration: προσεκύνησαν αὐτῷ λέγοντες. 88

Order of Appearance of Elements

207

The remaining response has the order emotion-sight-speech: ὥστε... θαυμάσαι βλέποντας... καὶ ἐδόξασαν... (15.31). A synthesis of observations on both order and prominence are useful now. On the one hand seeing in 15.31 uses the same lexeme as in the other instances and is here too the relatively least prominent component. On the other hand it has a different verbal form and aspect (continuative) and relative prominence (post-nuclear participle, not pre-nuclear). Here, again unlike in the other three responses, the emotion is less prominent than the speech. Still the four responses share in common that all three elements in the collocation appear in immediate proximity to one another, ending with speech. Also both 9.8 and 15.31 end with the verbally identical καὶ ἐδόξασαν. And for three of the responses, including the somewhat anomalous 15.31, there are only three instances of elements (also 9.8; 21.20). (In 14.26 all five instances of elements also belong to the collocation.) In summary, the collocation of seeing, emotion and speech has a pronounced formal appearance, though it occurs only four times. Something further about the element of seeing should be said. Though it only occurs six times throughout the responses, five times it is first in a distinct series of actions (of one character). It always comes with the same lexeme, form and function (pre-nuclear participle): ἰδόντες αὐτὸν παρεκάλεσαν... (8.34b); ἰδόντες... ἐφοβήθησαν καὶ ἐδόξασαν... (9.8); ἰδόντες... ἐταράχθησαν λέγοντες... καὶ ἀπὸ τοῦ φόβου ἔκραξαν... (14.26); ἰδόντες... ἐθαύμασαν λέγοντες... (21.20); ἰδόντες αὐτὸν προσεκύνησαν... (28.17a).

Either two (8.34b; 28.17a) or three (9.8; 14.26; 21.20) elements are involved – in one case there are two instances of two of them (14.26). The word ἰδόντες immediately precedes another element (emotion [3 times]; verbal; falling) that is a mainline event. Viewed alternatively, in four cases it precedes a verbal element which is either a mainline event (8.34b; 9.8) or modifies one (14.26; 21.20). In summary in the five of six responses in which visual sensation is the first component in a distinct series of actions, a strong formal pattern is observed, which bears a relation to all three of the most common collocations. Whether, then, for the absolute location of some components (notably movement and seeing being initial) or the relative order in collocations (emotion to speech; seeing to speech) a measure of formal consistency is seen in the sixteen responses just examined. But the formal nature of responses is seen most of all in the first three responses in Matthew, which I considered earlier.

208

Chapter 3: Matthew

H. Characters Responding As in Section H of Chapter Two, the interest here is primarily focused on answering the question “Who?” Issues of characterisation are addressed in more detail in Section Q, below. Roughly 12 characters or character groups are respondents in miracle stories. 89 Jesus is not among them. One response is generic, with no respondents specified (Mt 9.26). Adoption of the same rubric used for analysing Mark is justified here. The Pharisees, who become Jesus’ avowed opponents, are to be treated specially. Joseph, too, is set in a category of his own. For one, as shown in preceding sections, his three responses are those that, in fact, are already set apart as a group on the basis of a shared combination of elements, words and morphology and the order of their occurrence. In addition, Joseph acts in the one period of the narrative outside of (prior to) Jesus’ adult activity. All three of Joseph’s responses cast him in a positive light. Among the category of followers, two characters (character groups), being established followers, have a continuing role in the narrative. Peter responds in one story and the “disciples,” basically equivalent to the “Twelve” (or the “Eleven”), 90 in four stories (5 responses). Others play a one-time role – Peter, James and John – or an otherwise brief role – Mary Magdalene and the “other” Mary. Worthy of note is the otherwise unspecified subgroup of disciples who doubt in the final episode. The only new followers, the second pair healed of blindness, appear merely in the respective episode. Through their response these two are portrayed positively, as are Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, for the most part, through theirs. The disciples’ portrayal, alternatively, fluctuates between essentially laudable (14.33; 28.17) and lacking, 89 Joseph (Mt 1.24–25; 2.14–15a; 2.21); “the disciples” (8.27; 14.26; 14.33; 21.20; 28.17 – note there is a further subgroup, specified in a limited way, in the last instance); the pig-herders (8.33); the “city” of Gadara (8.34); “crowds” (9.8; 9.33b; 12.23; 15.31 [here simply “crowd”]); the first pair healed from blindness (9.31); the Pharisees (9.34; 12.14; 12.24); Peter (17.4); Peter, James and John (17.6; 17.8); the second pair healed from blindness (20.34c); Mary Magdalene and the “other” Mary (28.8; 28.9b–c); and the guards (28.4) 90 The “disciples” (μαθηταί), introduced immediately upon Jesus’ commencement of his public ministry (Mt 5.1, referring to the four individuals from the preceding episode [4.18–22]), undergo a period of consolidation of number until ch. 10 (see, also, Kingsbury 1986: 109–110). Indicative of this, it would seem, are the two negative and positive examples: one unnamed disciple stops following Jesus (8.21–22); Matthew joins the disciples (9.9). From 10.1 on it becomes clear that the disciples are twelve (later eleven) in number. For the present purposes it is not crucial to differentiate between the less defined “disciples” in one miracle story (8.23–27) and the “disciples” in the remaining miracle stories in which they are respondents. On the unity of the disciples as a (single) character, see also Kingsbury (1986: 13) and Carter (1996: 215).

Characters Responding

209

though tending towards positive (8.27; 14.26; 21.20). The responses of Peter and the triad of Peter, James and John, all of whom belong to the larger group of “the disciples” are less than satisfactory. The cumulatively positive characterisation of the disciples, those evidently closest to Jesus relationally, does not come about easy. And even in the majority’s final act, the demonstrative prostration before Jesus, surprisingly some still evidence doubt (28.17). Four non-follower respondents appear in just one episode each: the pigherders (8.33); the people from Gadara (8.34); the first pair healed from blindness (9.31); and the guards (28.4). “The crowds” are respondents in four stories. 91 An extreme negative response is that of the pig-herders and the Gadarenes. The guards’ response does not appear to be positive – and, from developments in a following episode, apparently has no transformative effect. Acting disobediently, the only non-follower suppliants to respond, the formerly blind men, come out in a strongly negative light. Only the responses of the crowds can be evaluated as, to some extent, positive. Their praise of God (9.8; 15.31), especially, contributes to a meritorious portrayal, though other factors mitigate against it (see below, Section Q). Returning to the Pharisees, their responses are either extremely slanderous (9.34; 12.24) or inclined towards violence (12.14). Notably in two instances the Pharisees are contrasted with “the crowds” (9.34; 12.24). Still, the crowds come out here far from being the ideal respondents. Bracketing Joseph’s responses, in the six remaining rescue nature miracle and/or epiphany stories, all respondents, save one, the guards (28.4), are established followers of Jesus (Peter; Peter, James and John; the “disciples,” including once “some” of the eleven; the two women named Mary). Alternatively, Jesus’ opponents (the Pharisees), pig-hearders and citizens of a related city, the “crowds” and various suppliants (two pairs of two formerly blind men) only respond in stories of healing and exorcism. Only here, too, does a generic statement occur about a report spreading, unaccompanied by acts of an identifiable character. Note in these stories once a pair of new followers are the group respondent. The differentiation between miracle story types established on the basis of different emotions in responses finds further support in the alternation between established followers and others as respondents. 92

91 The crowds (on the plural see above, n. 14), established as a character early in the narrative, when Jesus’ begins his public ministry (Mt 4.25; 5.1; 7.28; 8.1), are referred to as ὄχλοι [ὄχλος] in all responses (9.8; 9.33b; 12.23 [15.31]). 92 An outlier to the pattern is the mundane (non-epiphanic) nature miracle story, in which the disciples are respondents.

210

Chapter 3: Matthew

I. Functional Roles of Respondents Analysis of the responses in terms of the functional roles of the respondents offers further corroboration of the pattern of differentiation among miracle story types (aside from the special case of Joseph). Established followers are always recipients in rescue nature miracle and/or epiphany stories, where they are respondents. The only other respondent in one of these stories, also a recipient, is the group of guards. In responding to the one non-rescue nature miracle, established followers are observers. Stories of other types of miracles (healing, exorcism) have respondents whose roles are more varied: hearers (the citizens of Gadara), observers (crowds [3 times]; Pharisees [3 times]; the pig-herders) and recipients (two pairs of two formerly blind men [twice]; crowds [Mt 5.31]).

J. Setting Placing the settings of the miracle stories with responses on a continuum in terms of spatial proximity to urban-centres, the data present some limited further support for the proposed differentiation between types of miracles. First I observe that the settings of the three epiphanies to Joseph add to the body of evidence placing the stories (and the responses they contain) in a category of their own. In each of the three stories, while no specific location is given, 93 the phrase κατ᾽ ὄναρ (1.20; 2.13; 2.19) is used to indicate the conceptual “location” within which the angelophany transpires. I bracket, therefore, the stories of angelophany to Joseph in what follows. Responses in the remaining epiphany stories occur on a mountain (28.17) or a high mountain (17.4; 17.6; 17.8) – presumably both are away from urban centres – near a tomb outside of Jerusalem (28.4; 28.8) and on the way from this tomb to another location, possibly urban (28.9b–c). Responses to rescue nature miracles take place in a boat at sea (Mt 8.27; 14.26; 14.33). The instance in an unknown space, while the respondents are moving between locations (28.9b–c), is the least characteristic of the pattern evident in these stories, where the setting is a secluded, uninhabited location, at times out in the elements. In contrast stories of healings, exorcisms and the shrivelling of the fig tree – for those stories with responses – typically occur in relatively more urban 93 The first story (Mt 1.18–25) gives no indication of physical location. While the second (2.13–15) can be assumed to take place in Bethlehem (cf. 2.1), no effort is made to specify the location for the angelophany (presumably at Joseph’s home). The third story mentions a location at the beginning, but it is extremely vague (Egypt: 2.19).

Focalisation

211

settings. The setting might be a synagogue (Mt 12.14), a house (9.26; 9.31; 9.33b–34), an unspecified location in a city (9.8). A road outside a city is twice a setting, also, for a response in this context (20.34c; 21.20). There are three exceptions to this pattern. Alternatively, a response to a healing or exorcism can occur on a mountain (15.31), near tombs (8.33–34) or in a location, presumably would-be secluded (outdoors?), Jesus has retreated to in order to avoid danger (12.23–24; cf. 12.15). Considering whether a miracle story is portrayed as public or private provides an additional and stronger angle for observing the pattern of differentiation among miracle story types. Stories of epiphanies and rescue nature miracles always occur in private settings, where established followers are recipient respondents. 94 All stories of healings and exorcisms containing responses are presented as occurring completely in or at some point entering into the public sphere. 95 In these stories, as noted previously, the respondents are always characters other than the established followers. The one episode that lies somewhere between the two types of stories is the cursing of the fig tree. This is a non-epiphanic episode occurring in private with established followers responding. I note, in addition, that also for miracle stories not containing a response, there is tendency toward the pattern. 96

K. Focalisation The Transfiguration is the one miracle story which ventures into characterfocalisation. 97 The effect is to bring the hearers/readers to sympathise with 94

The one story that is less explicit on this point is the post-resurrection appearance of Jesus to the women. 95 Stories of healing and exorcism that enter into the public sphere are: Mt 8.28–34; 9.18–19, 23–26; 9.27–31. The healing of Peter’s mother-in-law, too, should be understood as an event, which subsequently becomes public knowledge (cf. 8.16–17). 96 Typically, stories of healing (Mt 8.1–4 ; 8.5–13; 9.20–22), exorcism (17.14–18) and feeding (14.15–21; 15.32–38) occur in public settings. Twice the setting is private (15.21– 28 [exorcism]; 17.24–27 [nature miracle]). While the general setting is public, perception of the one relevant theophany (3.13–17) may be private, restricted to Jesus. For discussion of this point, see below, Section Q. 97 The disciples, whether Peter (Mt 17.4) or all three (17.6, 8), are frequently active, and other events transpire in relation to them – notably Jesus’ transformation (17.2a: ἔμπροσθεν αὐτῶν), the appearance of Moses and Elijah (17.3: αὐτοῖς) and the theophany with speech (17.5). Spatiality beyond their realm of perception is never addressed and their hearing (17.6a) and seeing (17.8) are noted. Narration penetrates their inner life (17.6b). In contrast Jesus’ audio and visual perception and thoughts and emotions are not given. The story begins with a narrator-focaliser and only fully achieves character-focalisation by 17.8.

212

Chapter 3: Matthew

the disciples. Hearers/readers join in the disciples’ emotional turmoil and difficulty in understanding who Jesus is and what transpired on the mountain. This effect is discussed further in Section Q, below. In some other miracle stories, also, narration of events is limited to the spatial and temporal perception of characters and their inner world of thoughts and emotions is penetrated. Yet the stories do not dedicate enough text to such facets to move from narrator-focalisation to character-focalisation. 98

L. Location within a Miracle Story The vast majority of responses (19 of 23) follow immediately upon the heels of a miracle. 99 Twice something intervenes: a fulfillment formula (1.22–23 [1 sentence]; re. 1.24–25); a command from Jesus (9.30b [1 sentence]; re. 9.31). Once, the miracle, portrayed as the object of respondents’ perception, is narrated within the response (28.17). In one instance, using the motif ironically, an additional response to an epiphany (17.8) follows an intervening act and speech of Jesus (17.7 [2 sentences]). Typically a response constitutes the closing line(s) of a story (13 of 19 stories). 100 In such cases the final sentence is a mainline event and an aorist 98

The story of the stilling of the storm (Mt 8.23–27), the next best candidate for character-focalisation, has the disciples as the main actors in only three sentences (8.23, 25, 27). And the oblique reference to Jesus (dative case) in the story’s opening clause is typical of the stories in this sequence (chs. 8–9) and elsewhere and does not signal to the hearers/readers that something is out of the ordinary. The closing look into the disciples’ inner life (8.27) is not enough to bring about character-focalisation. Other miracle stories of this nature are the healing of the first pair of blind men (9.27–31), the healing of the woman suffering from hemorrhaging (9.20–22) and the epiphanies experienced by Mary Magdalene and the “other” Mary (28.1–8; 28.9–10). Hartenstein (2013: 457) seems to argue that the story of walking on water is focalised through the disciples. But the penetration of the disciples’ inner life (14.26) is neither as rare as she suggests nor enough to constitute focalisation through them. Anderson (1994: 72) provides a list of instances of inside views of characters in Mt. She does not address the issue of whether whole episodes are focalised through characters. 99 Mt 2.14–15a; 2.21; 8.27; 8.33–34; 9.8; 9.26; 9.33b–34; 12.14; 12.23–24; 14.26; 14.33; 15.31; 17.4; 17.6; 20.34c; 21.20; 28.4 (note this is part of a story within a story); 28.8; 28.9b–c. Strictly speaking the guards’ response (28.4) comes after a backgrounded description of the angel’s appearance (28.3), not after the event of his arrival on the scene (28.2b–c). One story with two miracles and another with three, while not having a response after the second miracle (cf. 2.22; 14.29b–c), have responses (2.21; 14.26; 14.33) immediately following the other(s). In another story responses come right after both of the miracles (17.4; 17.6). So 18 of the stories’ 23 miracles have a response directly following them. 100 Mt 1.24–25; 8.27; 8.33–34; 9.8; 9.26; 9.31; 9.33b–34; 12.14; 14.33; 15.31; 17.8; 20.34c; 28.8.

Connectives Introducing Responses

213

indicative (Mt 1.25b; 8.27; 8.34b; 9.8b; 9.26; 9.31 12.14; 14.33; 15.31b; 17.8; 20.34c; 28.8), with one exception (an imperfect: 9.34). A single concluding speech from Jesus follows the response in three instances (21.20; 28.9b–c; 28.17), two being among the narrative’s closing episodes. In another, a lengthy discourse by Jesus (12.25–45), with one interaction from his interlocutors, follows the response (12.23–24). In stories at the beginning of the narrative, once a fulfillment formula follows the response (2.14–15) and once further events unfold after the response (2.21).

M. Connectives Introducing Responses Here I examine whether connectives help demarcate responses. Eight of 23 responses are introduced wit καί, the default connective for narrative discourse. 101 Within three of the responses beginning with καί the actions of a second character are subsequently introduced with δέ. 102 Otherwise, where relevant, only καί connects a response’s subsequent sentences. One response (15.31) begins with ὥστε. Yet, while its opening clause (15.31a) is dependent upon the foregoing sentence (15.30c), the second clause (15.31b) is independent, beginning with καί. More commonly (14 times) δέ is the initial connective in a response. When accompanied by an articular pronoun, it indicates a third-level usage (2.14–15a; 2.21; 9.31; 28.9b–c), actions in lieu of speech as reactions in dialogue. More commonly δέ indicates that the response is a development (1.24–25; 8.27; 8.33–34; 9.8; 12.14; 14.26; 14.33; 17.4; 17.8; 28.4). 103 None of the responses introduced with δέ contain another instance of that connective, but, when more than one sentence is present, only καί. No response begins with τότε (or contains it elsewhere), despite the prevalence of the connective in Matthew. Thus only a minority of responses (10 of 23 responses in 8 of 19 stories) are demarcated at their beginning, in an identical manner, by the use of a connective other than the default καί.

101

Mt 9.26; 9.33b–34; 12.23–24; 17.6; 20.34c; 21.20; 28.8; 28.17. Mt 9.33b–34; 12.23–24; 28.17. Accompanying the connective is, twice, a noun phrase (οἱ δὲ Φαρισαῖοι: Mt 9.33b–34; 12.23–24) and, once, an articular pronoun (οἱ δέ: 28.17). 103 The best readings have δέ in Mt 14.26a (Β ‫ א‬D etc.). Others (C P S W etc.) have καί as the connective. 102

214

Chapter 3: Matthew

N. Sub-Unit Divisions Do the responses constitute sub-units within their respective miracle stories? Of the nineteen miracle stories with responses, few are divided into sub-units. Four contain two paragraphs, whether both are relatively short (1.18–25; 8.28–34) or the second is considerably lengthier (14.23b–33; 12.22–45). One story has four paragraphs or scenes (9.18–26). 104 A sub-unit is often formed by a change of cast. This determines how Matthew 9.18–26 is divided: 9.18–19 (Jesus and the ruler); 9.20–22 (a woman and Jesus); 9.23–24 (Jesus and mourners); 9.25–26 (Jesus and a girl). The same factor is at play both in 8.28–34 – 8.28–32 (Jesus and the possessed men/demons); 8.33–34 (i.e the response: the pig herders, the city and Jesus) – and in 1.18–25 – 1.18–19 (Joseph and Mary); 1.20–25 (Joseph and the Angel of the Lord). The concept of a change of cast is also relevant in 12.22–45. In this story though, the events in the first sub-unit (12.22–24) are divided from the second by their type: Jesus’ lengthy speech, a quasi-monologue (12.25– 45). Alternatively, a fronted time indication can be significant for demarcating a subdivision. In 14.23b–33 this feature, accompanied by a change of location, is decisive: 14.23b–24 (evening – Jesus on a mountain, the disciples in a boat); 14.25–33 (fourth watch of the night – Jesus and disciples on the sea). The initial, brief sub-unit serves more as an introduction to an encounter, than as part of the narrative itself (much like the function of 1.18–19 in its respective story). In five cases, one in each story, a second or subsequent paragraph begins with δέ (1.20; 8.33; 9.25; 12.25 14.25). 105 Just once a subdivision corresponds to a response (8.33–34). Five responses correspond to a development unit, that is a distinct series of mainline events joined by καί (an event cluster) introduced with δέ. Two (9.8; 14.26; 28.4), three (1.24–25) or four (8.33–34) mainline events are in view. 106 (One of these instances is also a paragraph [8.33–34]). With δέ in a thirdlevel usage, two related phenomena occur (2.21; 28.9b–c), each involving two mainline events. Thus responses rarely constitute sub-units of miracle stories.

104

For the present purposes, I consider the complex of miracle stories in Mt 9.18–26 jointly in relation to the response in 9.26. 105 Two other paragraphs in one story begin with καί (Mt 9.20, 23). 106 Note a background comment (Mt 1.25a) is embedded within one development unit 1.24–25.

Peak of Story and Relative Prominence of Responses

215

O. Peak of Story and Relative Prominence of Responses What is the relation of a response to the peak of a story? I begin discussion of the highpoint in each story by looking at the use of δέ and τότε in Matthew. Stephen Levinsohn (2000: 74, emphasis original) suggests, “Matthew’s Gospel has a number of passages in which only the conclusion is introduced with δέ. This suggests that the author’s primary intent in relating the episode is to lead up to that conclusion.” In the one example Levinsohn (2000: 74) treats at length, a miracle story (Mt 9.1–8), “...δέ is used only to introduce the response of the crowds to the manifestation of Jesus’ authority.” 107 Only three of the remaining stories in which a response is introduced with δέ (8.23–27; 12.9–14; 28.8–10) contain no other instances of δέ, marking a development. 108 But even here the picture is not as clear as Levinsohn suggests. Steven Runge (2010: 37–42) argues that τότε, like δέ, is also marked for “development,” though the former has the added semantic constraint of temporal sequentiality. It would be more accurate to claim that both connectives are marked for “significant change,” which commonly constitutes a development. 109 Stephanie Black’s (2002: 250) understanding of τότε roughly confirms Runge’s claim in this regard, as she notes τότε can be used “in the speech margins of ‘climactic statements’” and to introduce “actions or events which function as a climax of the pericope in which they are found....” 110 In the four stories where a response is the one development introduced by δέ, τότε is always also present, indicating a development. 111 Still it is noteworthy 107 I note that in two manuscripts (N Θ) δέ introduces the sentence in Mt 9.4. The remaining witnesses have καί. 108 Note that δέ in Mt 8.24b introduces background material and does not indicate a development in the storyline. In 12.11 δέ, accompanied by an articular pronoun, constitutes a third-level usage (cf. Levinsohn 2000: 218), marking speech within a dialogue as a step en route to a goal. Though two manuscripts (D 1424) have καί for the connective in 12.14, the remaining witnesses have δέ. A more significant textual variant occurs in 28.9, where in a number of early witnesses (A C S etc.) δέ introduces the episode (ὡς δὲ ἐπορεύοντο ἀπαγγεῖλαι τοῖς μαθηταῖς αὐτοῦ...). Yet even in such a reading the usage of δέ would not indicate a development within story, but would be “a high-level usage, indicating that the episode as a whole represents a new development in the [overall] story” (Levinsohn 2000: 75). At any rate, the best witnesses (B ‫ א‬D W) introduce the episode at 28.9 with καί. 109 See the discussion of δέ above, in Chapter Two, Section M. 110 On the other hand, Black’s (2002: 247) idea that τότε serves “as a signal of continuity in discourse” (she follows Levinsohn [2000: 95–97] on this point) differs from Runge’s conception, which I find more convincing. 111 Levinsohn (2000: 74) notes the presence of τότε in Mt 9.6b, but fails to observe how this changes the picture of a story with only one concluding development to a story with two developments, the first being Jesus’ speech which brings about the miracle. Similarly,

216

Chapter 3: Matthew

that in three stories the response (8.27; 9.8; 12.14) is the final of two developments. Also interesting is the story (17.1–8) with multiple responses, in which the second and third of three developments are responses (17.4; 17.8). Here too the final response is the closing line. In the majority of stories (13 of 19) a response or part of one is the culminating moment or found within it. A response is the peak in six stories: Mt 1.24–25 (four sentences); 8.27 (one); 9.8 (two); 12.14 (one); 14.33 (one); 17.8 (one). 112 Three times the moment of greatest interest or intensity is a portion of the response: 8.34 (two sentences); 9.33b (one); 15.31a (a result clause). 113 Once, when a response is a part of the peak, material following it

τότε in 8.26b and 12.11 introduces the miracle-producing speech of Jesus. Alternatively, in the remaining story, Jesus’ speech, following the response, is introduced with τότε (28.10). 112 In all six of these instances the response corresponds to the final development or development unit (introduced with δέ in each case) in the respective story. (NB in Mt 12.14 καὶ ἐξελθόντες is found in manuscripts D and 1424, whereas others have ἐξελθόντες δέ. A variant in one manuscript (C*) in 14.33 has οἱ δὲ ἐλθόντες, containing then the articular pronoun, in place of οἱ δὲ ἐν τῷ πλοίῳ [other manuscripts, including Cc]. The variant reading has the disciples’ response as a kind of reply to Jesus’ speech in 14.31.) The prominence of the development unit in Mt 1.24–25 is probably increased by the introduction of background material just prior to it (1.22–23), which slows the narrative down. A possible marked encoding of the participants in 1.24a (use of ὁ Ἰωσήφ) would also indicate greater prominence. A lack of the article here (ὁ), attested in some manuscripts (‫ א‬S etc.), would have the response marked as even more prominent. (NB the relative clause in 1.25a, ἕως οὗ ἔτεκεν υἱόν, following the main clause, receives more prominence than it.) Use of more than the default encoding in 8.27 for already active participants (οἱ ἄνθρωποι) highlights the sentence. Note Black (2002: 250) takes “Jesus’ rebuke of the winds and waves” in 8.26a (τότε) as the peak. Both 8.26 and 8.27 are key moments; the latter is the peak. 113 In Mt 8.33–34, the final development unit (begins with δέ) of the respective story, the introduction of a new character (πᾶσα ἡ πόλις) in 8.34a with the “attention-getter” (Runge 2010: 122–123) καὶ ἰδού marks the encounter between this group and Jesus as of greater prominence. (Conceivably the noun in πᾶσα ἡ πόλις is over encoded; πάντες would arguably be sufficient.) An offline comment in another story (9.34) coincides with the actions of a second group responding to the healing. The final mainline event (9.33b) is the peak. The story in 15.29–31 has no intersentential connectives other than καί. Nor are highlighting devices such as HP or marked encoding of participants present. Rather the story’s peak must be determined by literary means. The presentation of the problem (15.30a–b) is followed by the resolution (15.30c–31a). But in the primary sentences for both problem and resolution, post-nuclear dependant clauses, owing to their length and specificity, have equal (15.30a) or greater (15.31a) prominence. Here, too, key words are repeated (χωλούς, τυφλούς, κυλλούς, κωφούς), drawing a parallel between problem and solution. Thus the story’s high point is the amazement and visual sensation of (the results of) the healings (15.31a: ὥστε τὸν ὄχλον θαυμάσαι βλέποντας...). The following act of praising the God of Israel (15.31b) is the dénouement. The reading ἐδόξαζον that some manuscripts (‫ א‬L etc.) have in 15.31b in place of ἐδόξασαν (B A C D N S W etc.) would

Peak of Story and Relative Prominence of Responses

217

is too: 2.14–15 (two sentences, including final purpose clause with fulfillment formula). 114 Twice a healing gesture and a statement of healing or an act demonstrating the healing combined with the response constitute the high point: 9.25–26 (three sentences: healing gesture; demonstration; response); 20.34 (three: healing gesture; statement of healing; response); cf. 8.15. 115 Similar is the instance in which the speech of an angel and some disciples’ response are jointly the peak: 28.5–8 (two sentences). 116 In one case a healing gesture and speech and the statement of healing are the high point 9.29–30a (two sentences), while a subsequent speech by Jesus and the response constitute the dénouement. 117 Once events subsequent to the response are the episode’s highpoint (2.22b–23). 118 In the remaining four instances, the key moment occurs after the response and comes as speech: 12.38–45 (two speeches); 21.21–22; 28.10; 28.18. 119 In a related story, the present this, the final event of the narrative, as a fade-out imperfect, though such a reading would not alter the foregoing analysis of the story’s peak. 114 The events of Mt 2.14 are highlighted by the preceding HP (2.13: φαίνεται – note that one early manuscript [B] has ἐφάνη). Note 2.14–15 is the final development. 115 In one story the final development unit (Mt 9.25–26), is further marked as a unit by use of a fronted temporal frame of reference (9.25a: ὅτε δὲ ἐξεβλήθη ὁ ὄχλος...). (Some early manuscripts [N C S W] read λέγει in 9.24a, rather than ἔλεγεν [B ‫ א‬D etc.]. This reading would add to the prominence of the events in 9.25–26.) The closing development unit (20.34) in the other story is highlighted by over encoding of Jesus (ὁ Ἰησοῦς in 20.34a) and a preceding HP (20.33). In 8.14–15, a story with no developments, it is likely that the resolution of the problem (thus 8.15b–c) is the high point, while a possible response (8.15d) would be the dénouement. 116 Mt 28.5–8 is the story’s concluding development unit (note two early manuscripts [C W] have not δέ but asyndeton as the connective at 28.5). Further prominence is achieved in 28.5 through heavy encoding in reference to the angel and use of a redundant quotative frame (ἀποκριθεὶς... εἶπεν). That the two sentences form a pair and should be seen jointly as the story’s peak stems from parallelism between the angel’s command and the response: ταχὺ πορευθεῖσαι εἴπατε τοῖς μαθηταῖς αὐτοῦ (28.7) and ἀπελθοῦσαι ταχὺ... ἔδραμον ἀπαγγεῖλαι τοῖς μαθηταῖς αὐτοῦ (28.8). 117 The development in Mt 9.29 is marked by τότε. Two HPs in a verbal exchange point forward to this (9.28b,c). The pair of healing gesture and speech (9.29) and statement of healing (9.30a) should probably be read together as the story’s highpoint (note again a related pair in 9.28b,c with forward-pointing HPs). Futher interaction, the dénouement, in 9.30b–31 is given more than normal prominence via marked encoding in reference to Jesus (9.30b). 118 Mt 2.22b–23 is the final development unit of the respective story. The mainline events form a pair of warning and reaction and should likely be taken together as the episode’s peak. 119 Following speeches introduced with common, singular speech verbs (Mt 12.23b, 24, 25–37), the two concluding speeches (12.38, 39–45) have redundant quotative frames (using ἀποκριθῆναι and εἰπεῖν), highlighting their significance. They constitute a development in the series of interactions, introduced with τότε (12.38). In 21.21 marked partici-

218

Chapter 3: Matthew

three mainline actions in a reaction of Jesus (Mt 8.10–13a) to a centurion’s faith are the high point, while the healing itself, coming last, is the dénouement. 120

P. Distribution of Responses in Miracle Stories I have noted above that there is a significant correlation of the emotions of fear and alarm with rescue nature miracle stories and epiphanies and amazement with other miracle stories. There are only two outliers to this pattern: the response in Mt 8.23–27, a rescue nature miracle story, contains amazement only; the response in 9.1–8, a story of a healing, has fear only. Still, it has also been noted that while all but one of the 10 epiphany and rescue nature miracle stories have responses, responses in only four stories contain an emotion. A few features stand out when considering the distribution of responses throughout the course of the narrative (see Table 3, below), noting the type of emotion where relevant. Though the narrative’s opening contains a number of miracle stories (all are epiphanies), emotions nowhere appear in the common responses. No primacy effect associates fear or being troubled with epiphanies. In fact this emotion will not be associated with such a story until chapter 14. Upon the start of Jesus’ public ministry (Mt 4.17), miracle stories do not appear for some time, the first one coming after the lengthy Sermon on the Mount. Of the ten stories that appear, at times in succession, in the relatively short stretch of chapters 8–9, only three have responses with an emotion. None of the first three do. Thus the opportunity for establishing a pattern at the outset is lost. What is more, the two outliers to the noted significant patpant encoding (ὁ Ἰησοῦς) and a redundant quotative frame (ἀποκριθεὶς... εἶπεν) mark the related statement (21.21–22) as the key moment in the story. Use of δέ in 21.21 is probably to be taken as marking a development within the episode (not within an exchange). The development of 28.10 (τότε) is highlighted by means of marked encoding (ὁ Ἰησοῦς). (Note the HP in this concluding sentence indicates that the episode as a whole points forward.) The concluding speech of the narrative (28.18–20) is also highlighted through marked encoding (ὁ Ἰησοῦς). There is no development in this final, short episode (δέ, with the articular pronoun, in 28.17b is a form of third level usage, indicating a response of some characters that is different to that of the larger group [subjects of 28.17a] to which they belong). 120 The development unit of Mt 8.10–13a (begins with δέ) consists of three actions by Jesus, amazement (8.10a) and two speeches (8.10b–12, 13). The first and lengthier of the speeches is linked to the statement of Jesus’ amazement, which is highlighted through marked encoding (ὁ Ἰησοῦς). The second speech, now directed at the centurion, is similarly highlighted. (For a similar sort of story in which, though, a second, concluding speech does not receive as much prominence as the first, see Lk 17.11–19.)

Distribution of Responses in Miracle Stories

219

tern of distribution occur amongst these stories – in fact the first two stories containing emotional responses are the outliers! This means that readers/hearers of the Matthew would likely not pick up on the pattern of emotional types of responses and types of miracle stories until, say, chapter 17 or 21, if at all. In light of the previous chapter on Mark, and to speak proleptically concerning the data from all four gospels, it seems that Matthew preserves the pattern from source material(s), which Matthew has not presented in the unfolding of the narrative in a way which preserves the pattern’s significance. A further consideration which strengthens this position is the inversion of the response motif in the story of the healing of the centurion’s servant (Mt 8.5–13). Here, in a presumed twist of convention, Jesus reacts with amazement to the centurion’s remarkable faith (rather than the centurion responding with amazement, later, to the healing). This amazement reaction and accompanying speech occurs prior to the narration of the miracle, which itself is the story’s dénouement. Such a play on convention only works when there has been significant repetition of a pattern to establish expectations, which in turn are then surprisingly exploited for creative purposes. But the story of the centurion’s servant is only the second healing story in the narrative. And no miracle story of any kind up to this point has a response with an emotion. So, even laying aside the question of what type of emotion should be associated with a healing, the inversion of the emotional response motif would be entirely lost on the readers/hearers of Matthew, 121 if their expectations were not informed by prior familiarity with other stories (written or oral) of Jesus’ healings, which had ingrained the conventional expectation of amazement in response to miracles.

121

This would be true, at least, for the first reading/hearing of Mt.

220

Chapter 3: Matthew

Table 3: Distribution of responses among miracle stories, noting type of emotion Story

Miracle type

1.18–25

Epiphany

2.13–15

Epiphany

2.19–23

Epiphany

3.13–17

Epiphany

8.1–4

Healing

Response

8.5–13

Healing

(Inversion)

8.14–15

Healing

(?)

8.23–27

Rescue / nature

8.28–34

Exorcism

9.1–8

Healing

9.20–22

Healing

9.18–19, 23–26

Healing

9.27–31

Healing

9.32–34

Exorcism

12.9–14

Healing

12.22–45

Exorcism

14.15–21

Nature

14.23b–33

Rescue / nature

15.21–28

Exorcism

15.29–31

Healing

15.32–38

Nature

17.1–8

Epiphany

17.14–18

Exorcism

17.24–27

Nature

20.29–34

Healing

21.18–22

Nature

28.1–8

Epiphany

28.9–10

Epiphany

28.16–20

Epiphany

Emotion

Fear / trouble

Amazement

( ) ( )

Joy

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

221

Q. Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative In this section I draw together observations made above, while also noting how the responses relate to other features in the individual miracles stories and the larger narrative. A preliminary discussion of the “structure” of Matthew will allow for some general observations as to the distribution of miracles stories and responses throughout the gospel. A good proposal for Matthew’s structure would do well to take into account the five blocks of teaching material. 122 At the same time there seem to be other, potentially overlapping considerations. The opening episodes (Jesus, a child, is not an active character) are distinct. The passion and resurrection narrative forms a distinct block of material. 123 Alternatively, one can make a good case for a section focused on events, especially conflict, in Jerusalem (21.1–28.15). 124 For the present purposes, focused as they are on narrated events (in distinction to lengthy teaching sections), it will be sufficient to identify, on the one hand, the introduction, climax and dénouement and, on the other, the remaining narrative “sections” (numbered 1–6), when the lengthier teaching blocks are isolated. 125

122 The idea of the five teaching sections as indicators of structure was first argued by B. W. Bacon – see Theophilos (2011: 2–3). A (five-time) repeated formula coincides with the close of each teaching section (7.28; 11.1; 13.53; 19.1; 26.1). The idea of a chiastic structure within this material is possible, though that there is one within the entire gospel is less than convincing to me. 123 Crucial here are the opening sentences (see comments below on Mt 26.1–5) and the continuity of the involvement of Jesus’ opponents, the chief priests and the elders, into the resurrection-related episodes. 124 An even wider section (16.21–28.20) could be envisioned, concerning Jesus’ suffering, death and resurrection (see Kingsbury 1986: 78–94; France 2007: 3–4). 125 Nevertheless, the teaching blocks often belong within the framework of a story (e.g. Mt 4.23–7.29; see below).

222

Chapter 3: Matthew

Table 4: Distribution of responses in miracle stories within sections of the narrative Section

Reference

Response / Stories

Responses

Intro

1.1–2.23

3/3

1.24–25; 2.14–15a; 2.21

1

3.1–4.25

0/1

7.28–10.4

6 (prob. 7) / 10

(prob. 8.15d;) 8.27; 8.33–34; 9.8; 9.26; 9.33b–34

11.1–13.2

2/2

12.14; 12.23–24

13.53–17.27

3/8

14.26 and 14.33; 15.31; 17.4, 17.6 and 17.8

19.1–22.46

2/2

20.34c; 21.20

5.5–7.27 (teaching) 2 10.5–42 (teaching) 3 13.3–52 (teaching) 4 18.1–35 (teaching) 5

23.1–25.46 (teaching) 6

26.1–27.44

0/0

Climax

27.45–56

0/0

Dénouement

27.57–28.20

3/3

28.4 and 28.8; 28.9b–c; 28.17

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

223

The data in Table 4 (see above) allow for the following observations. In both the introduction and dénouement are three miracle stories (of epiphanies), which each contain one or more responses. Elsewhere, where there are just a couple of miracle stories (what, for heuristic purposes, are called sections 3 and 5) both have responses. In the sections with the largest concentration of miracle stories, conversely, not all stories have responses. Between the first and second blocks of teaching (section 2), the majority of the 10 miracle stories (6, probably 7) have responses. The opposite is true for the other section with numerous miracle stories (only 3 of 8 contain responses). What can account for these distribution patterns? I. Matthew 1.24–25 Following the genealogy (Mt 1.1–17) the narrative proper opens with a miraculous account (1.18–25) of the conception of Jesus, the resultant tension between the couple-to-be and its resolution through the appearance and speech of the Angel of the Lord in a dream and Joseph’s obedient response. The angel’s words help to establish the listeners’/readers’ expectations of how the plot will unfold: the child will save the people from their sins. The peak moment, the resolution of conflict, is Joseph’s response to the angelophany (Mt 1.24–25): ἐγερθεὶς δὲ ὁ Ἰωσὴφ ἀπὸ τοῦ ὕπνου ἐποίησεν ὡς προσέταξεν αὐτῷ ὁ ἄγγελος κυρίου καὶ παρέλαβεν τὴν γυναῖκα αὐτοῦ, καὶ οὐκ ἐγίνωσκεν αὐτὴν ἕως οὗ ἔτεκεν υἱόν· καὶ ἐκάλεσεν τὸ ὄνομα αὐτοῦ Ἰησοῦν.

The wording of the angel’s commands is revisited, demonstrating complete obedience. Following the general statement of obedience, two main actions are described: Joseph’s taking Mary as his wife (παρέλαβεν; cf. 1.20) and naming the child (ἐκάλεσεν; cf. 1.21). 126 Mary’s giving birth to Jesus is given less prominence than these two mainline events. The primacy effect establishes Joseph’s response as ideal. The response also establishes a symmetry between angelic command and human response. The resolution of this initial episode is given added stress in that it constitutes the episode’s peak. The resolution has the effect of demonstrating that God is in control of the unfolding events. 127

126 Similarly Anderson (1994: 154), with less attention to detail, notes “words which echo” the command. 127 Howell (1990: 117) observes, “The will of God is fulfilled in the predictive... [and] the volitional sense....”

224

Chapter 3: Matthew

II. Intervening material The episode with the magi (2.1–12) introduces the element of danger that colours the remainder of the narration surrounding Jesus’ birth and infancy. Though King Herod’s character is not well-known yet, his strong emotional reaction of being troubled by the magi’s words and his furtive behaviour makes the sincerity of his expressed intent to bow before the newborn child suspect. 128 The highpoint of the episode is the magi’s extreme reaction of joy to seeing the star above the birth-place, prostration to the child and bestowal of gifts. The story closes with a briefly narrated dream-warning (demoted in prominence), likely to be understood as the communication of an angel, 129 and their obedient reaction to it. 130 No verbal parallelism between warning/command and subsequent action is present. But, the magi clearly follow in Joseph’s footsteps in this regard. The respectful conduct of these representatives of foreign power become a potent contrast to the violent opposition of the king in Jerusalem. 131 III. Matthew 2.14–15 The second (explicit) appearance of the Angel of the Lord in a dream (Mt 2.13–15) is closely linked to the first one. The recurrence of vocabulary at the appearance of the angel (ἰδού, ἄγγελος κυρίου, φανῆναι, κατ᾽ ὄναρ, εἰπεῖν – 2.13; cf. 1.20) and even sentence structure 132 ensures this. Joseph’s response to the angel’s commands is again obedient (2.14–15a): ὁ δὲ ἐγερθεὶς παρέλαβεν τὸ παιδίον καὶ τὴν μητέρα αὐτοῦ νυκτὸς καὶ ἀνεχώρησεν εἰς Αἴγυπτον, καὶ ἦν ἐκεῖ ἕως τῆς τελευτῆς Ἡρῴδου...

The language of the angel’s commands is even more closely revisited this time, in vocabulary, structure, word-order and content (2.13: ἐγερθεὶς παράλαβε τὸ παιδίον καὶ τὴν μητέρα αὐτοῦ καὶ φεῦγε εἰς Αἴγυπτον καὶ ἴσθι ἐκεῖ ἕως...). 133 The response, the peak of this short episode, further establishes the appropriate type of reply to divine guidance, here mediated through an 128 His being troubled “can be seen retrospectively... as foreshadowing Herod’s violent action...” (Howell 1990: 119). 129 This sense will be strengthened as the next episodes unfold. 130 On the rationale for this story, despite the likely epiphanic motif, not being included among the miracle stories of the study, see above, n. 24. 131 Howell (1990: 117) astutely sees here a difference of acceptance (magi) and rejection (Herod) of Jesus. 132 See esp. ἰδοὺ ἄγγελος κυρίου / ἐφάνη or φαίνεται / λέγων. Similarly Anderson (1994: 155) notes that the “introduction is almost exactly the same” in the stories of Joseph’s dreams, though giving just counts of words in common. 133 Similarly, Anderson (1994: 155).

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

225

angel. Some lexemes and their morphology are shared in common with the first response (ἐγερθείς / παρέλαβεν). The concluding fulfillment formula creates another tie with the earlier epiphany story. It, along with Joseph’s response, promotes the notion that God is in control of the unfolding events. In addition the out-of-sequence narration of Herod’s death serves a preemptory purpose: any potential suspense from the following murderous scene (2.16–18) is precluded. IV. Matthew 2.21 The third appearance of the Angel of the Lord to Joseph (Mt 2.19–23) reinforces what is now a clear narrative pattern. The introduction of the angel, 134 his command and Joseph’s obedient response all employ the familiar vocabulary of earlier scenes. The actions in Joseph’s response (2.21) are akin to those in previous responses: ὁ δὲ ἐγερθεὶς παρέλαβεν τὸ παιδίον καὶ τὴν μητέρα αὐτοῦ καὶ εἰσῆλθεν εἰς γῆν Ἰσραήλ. The resemblance to the preceding response (2.14) is striking – he gets up, takes the child and mother and goes somewhere – including extended verbal identity (ἐγερθεὶς παρέλαβεν τὸ παιδίον καὶ τὴν μητέρα αὐτοῦ). In the present story the angel’s command and the response are very closely linked in terms of content, vocabulary and structure. 135 This third story of angelic appearance incorporates two dreams. While the second dream (Mt 2.22b) may well be presented as involving the Angel of the Lord, its brief and different style of narration (χρηματισθεὶς δὲ κατ᾿ ὄναρ) creates distance from preceding interrelated instances of detailed narration of angelophany. The language here is closer to the magi’s dream (2.12), though here the content of the warning is not as clearly stated. For reasons of doubt here, as there, as to the nature of the dream, Joseph’s reaction is not considered to be a response to a miracle. The three stories of angelophany in the narrative’s opening jointly establish for the listeners/readers what the narrator’s expectation of what is a proper response to the direct intervention of God. 136 In each case and cumulatively it involves obedience to the commands of an angel, demonstrated by the detailed following-out of specifics. The terms ἐγερθῆναι and παραλαβεῖν have played an important role both in the commands and in the responses. 134 Note, esp., the wording in Mt 2.19–20 (ἰδοὺ ἄγγελος... λέγων), minus ἐν Αἰγύπτῳ, is identical to that in 2.13. 135 ἐγερθεὶς παράλαβε τὸ παιδίον καὶ τὴν μητέρα αὐτοῦ καὶ πορεύου εἰς γῆν Ἰσραήλ (Mt 2.20). The one change (other than imperative to indicative – i.e. πορευθῆναι to εἰσελθεῖν) is deictically appropriate to the angel and narrator. The similarities are noted, more generally, by Anderson (1994: 156). 136 Similarly, Howell (1990: 120).

226

Chapter 3: Matthew

Interestingly, no speech or emotion constitutes a part of any of the responses. Emotions are common enough in the first two chapters, whether narrated explicitly – being troubled, joy, anger – or implicitly – grief. 137 Even the angel’s initial words to Joseph refer to at least potential emotion (1.20: μὴ φοβηθῇς παραλαβεῖν Μαρίαν...). In the concluding episode related to Jesus’ infancy Joseph’s fear of Archelaus is narrated (2.22a). Yet in all these instances the emotions are removed, often far removed, from the laconic mode in which Joseph’s obedient responses to angelic visitation are narrated. There the listeners/readers receive details of his actions only. With the responses, as with other features of these opening stories – notably direction and prophecy through angels and fulfillment through citations from the Scriptures – the repetitions also “give divine sanction to Jesus and events of his life”; show “the reliability of anticipations”; and “provide motivation (divine motivation) for the chain of events” (Anderson 1994: 156–157, emphasis original). V. Intervening material John the Baptiser proclaims the arrival of the kingdom of Heaven, the coming of wrath and the arrival of his successor and superior, who will sift the wheat from the chaff. While Jesus is baptised (Mt 3.13–17) the spirit of God, appearing as a dove, lands upon him and a heavenly voice says, “This is my beloved son, in whom I am pleased” (3.17). The story, containing no response, ends with these words. It is unclear which characters other than Jesus, if any, may have seen and heard what he has experienced. 138 The Satan’s temptations of Jesus challenge him on the very point that was just announced to him by God – his relation to God as son (4.3, 6). Yet the Satan’s challenge to God’s plan is overcome by Jesus. When it is briefly narrated that angels serve him (4.11), there is no response on his part. 139 As Jesus also begins to proclaim the arrival of the kingdom of Heaven, he calls two pairs of fishers to follow him (4.18–22). His words are enough to secure their allegiance. Both pairs’ actions, worded in similar fashion, 140 are 137 Explicitly Herod and Jerusalem are troubled at the magi’s’ words; the magi are overcome with joy at the their being successfully guided by the star; Herod is angry at being duped. Implicitly parents mourn bitterly over their slaughtered children. 138 While the “opening” of the heavens (Mt 3.16b) is narrated in a manner suggesting the event is perceivable by all, the next event, the descent of the spirit of God in a visible form, is presented as the object of Jesus’ observation. This style of narration allows for the understanding that Jesus alone perceives the occurrence. The heavenly voice, too, as a consequence, may be understood as perceived by only Jesus. 139 The occurrence is clearly less significant than the confrontations between Jesus and the Satan. 140 οἱ δὲ εὐθέως ἀφέντες τὰ δίκτυα ἠκολούθησαν αὐτῷ (Mt 4.20) – οἱ δὲ εὐθέως ἀφέντες τὸ πλοῖον καὶ τὸν πατέρα αὐτῶν ἠκολούθησαν αὐτῷ (4.22).

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

227

the first positive, exemplary reactions to Jesus’ ministry. 141 Description of Jesus’ commands and their reactions does not, however, demonstrate the symmetry seen in the episodes with Joseph and the Angel of the Lord. There is no expectation, therefore, that the characters following Jesus will carry out God’s plan as well as Joseph has. The next, lengthy episode (4.23–7.29) ties Jesus’ work of healing and exorcism to his teaching. As it opens, Jesus teaches in the synagogues of the Galilee, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and healing all diseases among the people. This precedes large numbers of people coming from various locations bringing those with various sicknesses, whom he heals. The stage is then set for the first extended teaching, which offers an evidently characteristic portrayal of and the essential introduction to Jesus’ public activity. Jesus is the interpreter of the Torah par excellence. He calls Israel to greater, more sincere devotion to God and Torah. In this context he also predicts that some will expel demons and perform mighty deeds in his name. Not all of those who do such things, however, will have a place in the kingdom of Heaven. Like John the Baptiser before him, Jesus predicts that some “trees,” those that fail to produce good fruit, will be cut down. They include false prophets. At the close of Jesus’ teaching, the uncommitted amazement (ἐξεπλήσσοντο) of “the crowds” is narrated, owing to the authority he taught with, which is contrasted with the scribes. 142 The extended narration of Jesus’ teaching is immediately followed by a brief account of a healing he performs (Mt 8.1–4). The request of a man with leprosy expresses an awareness of Jesus’ power to heal. No response is narrated. Rather Jesus’ command to him, the episode’s concluding sentence, reinforces Jesus’ commitment to the Jerusalem temple and Moses’ teaching. In the story of the healing of the Capernaum centurion’s son/servant 143 (Mt 8.5–13) attention is focused on Jesus’ reaction to the petitioner’s faith. The centurion’s request expresses a deep trust in Jesus’ authority to command healing and a related sense of unworthiness to host Jesus. Amazed (ἐθαύμασεν; 8.10) Jesus addresses those following him, praising the Gentile’s faith as superior to that found in Israel. Jesus then predicts that many (Gentiles) from various lands will join the Jewish patriarchs in the kingdom of Heaven, while “the heirs of the kingdom will be thrown into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth” (8.12; NRSV). Je141

See, further, Howell (1990: 130). καὶ ἐγένετο ὅτε ἐτέλεσεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς τοὺς λόγους τούτους, ἐξεπλήσσοντο οἱ ὄχλοι ἐπὶ τῇ διδαχῇ αὐτοῦ· ἦν γὰρ διδάσκων αὐτοὺς ὡς ἐξουσίαν ἔχων καὶ οὐχ ὡς οἱ γραμματεῖς αὐτῶν (Mt 7.28–29). Cousland (2002: 128) notes the inadequacy of the reaction, which indicates the crowds “remain static and uncommitted.” The model of four disciples’ reaction to Jesus (4.20, 22) is still fresh in the minds of the hearers/readers. 143 The term’s use here is ambiguous (Roth 2013: 394). 142

228

Chapter 3: Matthew

sus’ amazement at the Gentile’s faith recalls the crowds’ amazement at Jesus’ teaching, a teaching unlike that of the scribes, on account of his authority. Evidently the crowds’ amazement did not express great faith and, potentially, did not express much faith at all. Those “following” Jesus – related, it would seem, to the hordes present at the Sermon on the Mount, who also brought sick individuals to him, coming in some cases from great distances – are the “Israel” targeted by his rebuke (Roth 2013: 395). The increasing and tense contrast between those of “Israel” who will belong to the kingdom of Heaven and those who will not finds expression in Jesus’ teaching, though healings and exorcisms are linked to it. Jesus’ final words, now addressed to the centurion, underscore again the issue of faith. (Note the mention of Jesus’ amazement in this story of a healing is not a play on a response motif, for this is the first time a character in a miracle story is amazed.) 144 In the brief story of the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law (Mt 8.14–15) one may observe the first response in a miracle story. Following an act demonstrating her healing, she serves him (8.15d): καὶ διηκόνει αὐτῷ. This may well demonstrate her acceptance of Jesus’ kingdom message. 145 The summary of healings and exorcisms happening after sunset (8.16–17) has a fulfilment formula, citing Isaiah with regard to the healings, as its closing piece. VI. Matthew 8.27 The challenges of following Jesus, that is discipleship, are brought to the fore in the brief exchanges between Jesus and two individuals. The same theme is continued in the story of the stilling of the storm (Mt 8.23–27), with a private setting. 146 Despite the ironic, even bizarre situation of Jesus’ sleeping in the midst of the turmoil, his words, upon being awoken, chastise his disciples for their fear and little faith. Jesus’ rebuke of the wind and the sea and the attainment of a great calm brings the episode into a mythic level of narration, as Justin Taylor has shown. 147 The level of narration akin to that found in works of “romance,” that in Matthew is associated with healings and is familiar to the hearers/readers already from the preceding two miracle stories, has been set aside for something grander. Then comes the first unequivocal response in a miracle story linked to Jesus’ adulthood (8.27): 144

The outstanding faith of this foreigner, alongside the socially marginalised leper’s faith, may contrast with the scribes (7.29), Pharisees and Sadducees (3.7), who until now have not reacted positively to John the Baptiser or Jesus. 145 She performs for Jesus the same sort of act the angels recently performed (διηκόνουν: Mt 4.11). 146 Note that the command to cross to the other side occurs already in Mt 8.18. 147 Taylor’s (2011: 115–116) analysis of the stilling of the storm in Mk applies also to the Matthean version of the episode.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

229

οἱ δὲ ἄνθρωποι ἐθαύμασαν λέγοντες· ποταπός ἐστιν οὗτος ὅτι καὶ οἱ ἄνεμοι καὶ ἡ θάλασσα αὐτῷ ὑπακούουσιν;

It contains speech and an emotion. In light of the foregoing stories, the disciples’ response of amazement may well, on the one hand, contrast with Jesus’ amazement at the centurion’s great faith and, on the other, display similarity to the amazement of the crowds at Jesus’ teaching, which is also related to Jesus’ authority (cf. the theme of obedience here) and identity. At the same time the disciples’ little faith pales in comparison to the centurion’s magnificent display of faith. Still, their commitment to following Jesus is clearly superior to the two individuals who failed the test and, thus, never made it into the boat in first place. 148 Notably, the response focuses on Jesus, especially his authority and identity, not on the miracle per se. 149 This focus continues a theme started in the first miracle story. The episode resonates with the themes and even events of a parallel story from the Scriptures. (The parallelism with Jonah 1 will be discussed in Chapter Seven, below.) The response comes as the highpoint of the episode. In this way, several aspects of the narrative are brought to the fore: a question of Jesus’ identity; the disciples’ complicated characterisation, including negative aspects; and the conflict between them and Jesus. VII. Matthew 8.33–34 Jesus acts but once in the mainline of the story of the two demon-possessed men (Mt 8.28–34), when he gives the brief command for the demons to leave. In contrast the men, respectively the demons, are active characters in this, the first story of an exorcism. The characterisation of Jesus reinforces what has already been stated. 150 Following the exorcism and the drowning of the pigs, the response of the Gentile swine–herders and those of the nearby city constitute the story’s second, culminating scene (8.33–34): οἱ δὲ βόσκοντες ἔφυγον, καὶ ἀπελθόντες εἰς τὴν πόλιν ἀπήγγειλαν πάντα καὶ τὰ τῶν δαιμονιζομένων. καὶ ἰδοὺ πᾶσα ἡ πόλις ἐξῆλθεν εἰς ὑπάντησιν τῷ Ἰησοῦ καὶ ἰδόντες αὐτὸν παρεκάλεσαν ὅπως μεταβῇ ἀπὸ τῶν ὁρίων αὐτῶν.

148

The listeners’/readers’ criticism of the disciples envisioned by Dronsch (2013: 403) here is too sharp. 149 See Theophilos (2011: 122) for further discussion of how “the motif of discipleship” here is “subservient to the larger motif of Christology,” including a helpful discussion of ποταπός in the disciples’ question. The force of the disciples’ question does not allow for a picture of them here as “those who understand,” contra Cousland (2002: 131). 150 καὶ ἐξέβαλεν τὰ πνεύματα λόγῳ (Mt 8.16b). Other shared vocabulary links 8.16 to the present story (more so than for 4.24). Cf. Vorholt 2013: 409.

230

Chapter 3: Matthew

It contains four types of elements – movement (fleeing; coming), reporting, seeing and verbal – but no emotion. The gravity of the tragic conclusion is underscored on account of its being also the story’s high point: the citizens of the city plead with Jesus to leave their territory. 151 This is the first negative response in a miracle story. The Gentiles’ actions are perhaps surprising, given their stark contrast to the Gentile centurion’s great faith and Jesus’ praise of it and related prediction. Ironically Jesus is barred from Gentile territory, not by the two men of super-human strength, but by those who heard about the men’s deliverance from evil control. 152 Nothing is narrated further about the pair’s experience or possible reaction to all this. As in the previous miracle story, focus in the response is or becomes Jesus, not the miraculous feat or loss of pigs. 153 VIII. Matthew 9.8 Back on the other side of the sea, in Capernaum, 154 Jesus comes into conflict with the scribes (Mt 9.1–8). His pronouncement of forgiveness of sins to the paralytic brought to him (9.2), recalling the words of the Angel of the Lord (1.21), arouses an unspoken accusation of blasphemy in their minds. Jesus, knowing their thoughts, criticises them and, to confirm that the “Son of Humanity” has authority to forgive sins, heals the paralytic. The meaning of the title is not explained – and nowhere else in the narrative is its denotation clearly spelled out (8.20; 10.23 etc.; though see 26.64). Yet that it refers to Jesus is clear here and only becomes clearer as the narrative progresses. While no response from the scribes (or the healed man) is narrated, the onlooking crowds, now introduced, respond in the story’s peak moment (9.8): ἰδόντες δὲ οἱ ὄχλοι ἐφοβήθησαν καὶ ἐδόξασαν τὸν θεὸν τὸν δόντα ἐξουσίαν τοιαύτην τοῖς ἀνθρώποις.

Three components (seeing, emotional [fear] and verbal [praise]) are woven together, along with direct speech, to present one of the most spectacular and memorable responses thus far. 155 The fear would seem to be an escalation 151

On a potential chiastic structure to the story, see Vorholt (2013: 409). As characters come to meet Jesus (ὑπαντῆσαι: 8.28; ὑπάντησις: 8.34) at the story’s opening and close “hostility is the keynote of both” (Davies and Allison 1988–1997: 2:85). 153 Following the swine herder’s more broadly focused report (πάντα καὶ τὰ τῶν δαιμονιζομένων: Mt 8.33b), Jesus comes into focus. The city dwellers, seeing Jesus (ἰδόντες αὐτόν: 8.34b), conclude the episode by requesting him to leave (similarly, Davies and Allison 1988–1997: 2:85). 154 So, also, e.g. Felsch 2013: 427. 155 Contra Cousland (2002: 132), given the close connection of the fear and praise (see further, above, n. 15), it would not hold true that “the crowds’ use of δοξάζω points to a more considered and deliberate action on their part.” 152

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

231

from the amazement that has occurred in a response (8.27) and reaction (7.28) recently. 156 Still, the disconnect between Jesus’ mention of the “Son of Humanity,” an oblique reference to himself, and the crowds’ understanding of the term as referring to “people,” generally, suggests that the response is not ideal. 157 The mention of authority here and earlier, recalls the story with the centurion (ἐξουσία: 8.9; 9.6, 8), as does the type of ailment (παραλυτικός: 8.6; 9.2, 6). The centurion from Capernaum recognised the unique authority of Jesus; the respondents in Jesus’ “own town” do not. The previous remarkable response of the disciples also failed to understand Jesus’ authority. At the same time, the previous two responses were focused on Jesus; this one is not. 158 The question is raised as to whether and when characters will recognise the uniqueness of the protagonist. Interestingly, the praise of God in this context, therefore, is portrayed as an inappropriate response. 159 This is the third miracle story in a row in which the response (or a portion of it) both comes at the relevant episode’s conclusion and constitutes the high point. As a consequence, not only is the inadequacy of the relation of the crowd in Capernaum to Jesus drawn further into center stage, but also the comparison between the respondents in the three stories is brought into starker relief. IX. Intervening material As the narrative moves to another type of encounter, a call to discipleship, it becomes apparent that two groups of three miracle stories have taken place, each followed by brief call-to-discipleship scenarios. The second triad of

156

Similarly, Cousland 2002: 133. Cousland (2002: 133) also notes the inadequacy of the speech’s content, since the crowds lack “insight into his [Jesus’] identity.” The location of this story and the response it contains within the larger narrative does not suggest that “the authority given to Jesus and (implicitly) to his followers” (Davies and Allison 1988–1997: 2:96) is in mind. 158 This is noticeable in part in the use of the visual element in the response: καὶ ἰδόντες αὐτὸν παρεκάλεσαν... (Mt 8.34); ἰδόντες [no object] δὲ οἱ ὄχλοι ἐφοβήθησαν καὶ ἐδόξασαν τὸν θεόν... (9.8). 159 The initial two interactions in the story of the healing of the paralytic take the form: καὶ ἰδού (+ introduction of character) and καὶ ἰδὼν ὁ Ἰησοῦς... εἶπεν (Mt 9.2, 3–6a). Similar to the second part of this formation is the response (ἰδόντες δὲ οἱ ὄχλοι... [+ speech]: 9.8), coming right after the demonstration of the healing. (Davies and Allison’s [1988–1997: 2:86, 95] similar observation incorrectly equates the use of these related formulations as determinative of the story’s “structure.” Attention should also be given to the developments in the episode, as marked by δέ and τότε. Cf. above, Section O). This pattern underscores the fact that the content of the crowds’ speech fails to measure up to Jesus’ references to the Son of Humanity having authority to forgive sins on earth. 157

232

Chapter 3: Matthew

miracles have been “linked by their common emphasis on highlighting the response of their respective audiences” (Theophilos 2011: 137). 160 X. Matthew 9.26 When Jesus associates with a socially deviant group, by pious Galilean standards, he calls another disciple, Matthew, and comes into further conflict, now with Pharisees and disciples of John the Baptiser. Into this context is introduced a petitioner, a “ruler,” whose interactions with Jesus tie together four scenes, comprising two intertwined 161 miracle stories (Mt 9.18–26). His evident boldness and trust in Jesus has him ask Jesus to raise his daughter from the dead. On the way to the man’s home Jesus is touched from behind by a woman, who hopes thereby to be healed from her hematological troubles. Jesus, turning around and seeing her, commends her faith. She becomes healed. Upon entering the house Jesus announces that the girl is not “dead” but “sleeping.” He is ridiculed by the mourners. Nevertheless, once the crowd is thrown out he successfully “raises” the girl. A generic instance of the response motif closes the set of miracle stories (9.26): καὶ ἐξῆλθεν ἡ φήμη αὕτη εἰς ὅλην τὴν γῆν ἐκείνην. The one element, reporting, describes the thorough-going spread of the news about the resurrection. The response is not employed to help characterise the ruler, who’s faith in Jesus has been established early on already (9.18). Rather, as the final of three sentences jointly constituting the story’s conclusion and peak, the response combines with the narration of Jesus’ healing gesture and the girl’s resurrection to underscore the magnificent nature of the miracle. XI. Matthew 9.31 Yet another miracle story occurs in rapid succession (Mt 9.27–31). Two blind persons, crying out for mercy and following Jesus, will not take his silence for an answer. 162 Jesus asks the two whether they trust him to be able to heal them, after they have doggedly followed him even into a house. Their trust 160 Mt 9.9–13 has a “corresponding focus” (Theophilos 2011: 138) as Matthew the taxcollector’s reaction to Jesus is related (there are no reactions in the two call episodes of 8.18–22). 161 Among the features that tie the stories together are healing through touch, use of θυγάτηρ (Mt 9.18, 22) and the focus on the girl or woman being healed at the moment of the miracle, without the (potential) presence of others being mentioned (cf. Eberhart 2013: 418). 162 Felsch (2013: 427) seems to suggest that Jesus is initially silent because the conversation should happen indoors and in private. But Jesus has had no qualms with talking to the woman suppliant, just earlier, outdoors and in public (Mt 9.22). I remain agnostic as to the sense of Jesus’ initial reluctance to dialogue with the two blind persons.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

233

has secured their healing, Jesus declares. 163 Thereby they join the ranks of the ruler and the woman who also, likely on the same day, 164 having boldly approached Jesus, attained their goal. Yet Jesus’ command for their silence is flagrantly disobeyed, through a response consisting of movement and reporting (9.31): οἱ δὲ ἐξελθόντες διεφήμισαν αὐτὸν ἐν ὅλῃ τῇ γῇ ἐκείνῃ. 165 It bears verbal similarities with the response in the preceding story. Thus this story, too, ends with portraying widespread dissemination, here of news of Jesus himself, though now the reporting itself is cast in a negative light. These similarities along with the motifs of initiative, trusting in Jesus and healing by touch bring the stories together. 166 Jesus’ powerful words and the healing they bring about are the key moment in this story (9.29–30a), just as his healing gesture and the resultant resurrection were part of the peak in the previous story. Here, however, the response is cast as part of the dénouement. Thus, for the first time in the sequence of miracle stories containing responses, which began in 8.27, the response is not (a part of) a story’s highpoint. Focus has shifted to the remarkable occurrences themselves, as well as to characterisation of the protagonist, whose powerful words and actions have a decisive and immediate efficacy. Unlike in the case of Joseph, no angel guides the protagonist. He is marked by authority verging on autonomy. With a word or with a movement of his hand he determines the conduct of the forces of nature and evil spirits and the properties of illnesses plaguing humans and even death. XII. Matthew 9.33b–34 The final miracle story in the sequence, again on the same day, 167 revisits the theme of conflict, raising the stakes. The story is so brief that the response, almost half the story’s length, takes special prominence. 168 This feature is On πίστις and πιστεῦσαι denoting trust (“Vertrauen”) here, see Felsch (2013: 428). The day would include at least Jesus’ conversation with John’s disciples, if not the meal at Matthew’s place. 165 Davies and Allison (1988–1997: 2:138) also emphasise the disobedience of the two. I am unsure of the reason for Jesus’ command to silence here. 166 For some further connections see Felsch (2013: 426). The connection between this story and another story of the healing of two blind men is discussed below. The chiastic pattern that Anderson (1994: 179) argues for, involving this pair and two other story doublets (Sign of Jonah: Mt 12.28–42; 16.1–4 – Feeding of 5000/4000: 14.13–21; 15.30–38) with the story of the Canaanite woman (15.22–28) in the middle, seems somewhat forced. 167 On the sewing of these two, essentially independent, stories together, see Felsch (2013: 426–427). Note that the character healed here is passive, unlike the woman healed of hemorrhaging and the two formerly blind men. 168 On various common motifs that are absent – a request for healing; a healing word or gesture from Jesus – see Felsch (2013: 428). 163 164

234

Chapter 3: Matthew

compounded by the fact that the response is also the episode’s high point. Such a level of prominence for a response is familiar from many of the other miracle stories in Mt 8 and 9. The response to this exorcistic healing, which is both an exorcism and a healing, involves two distinct and contrasting groups, neither of which includes the recipient (9.33b–34): καὶ ἐθαύμασαν οἱ ὄχλοι λέγοντες· οὐδέποτε ἐφάνη οὕτως ἐν τῷ Ἰσραήλ. οἱ δὲ Φαρισαῖοι ἔλεγον· ἐν τῷ ἄρχοντι τῶν δαιμονίων ἐκβάλλει τὰ δαιμόνια.

The components are emotional and verbal. The amazement of the crowds does not necessarily portray them in a good light. Their comment seems possibly inferior to the words of the crowds who last responded to a miracle, the healing of the paralytic (9.8). There crowds at least explicitly praised God, even if there was substantial misunderstanding. Crowds both there and here, at least as unaware of who Jesus is as are the disciples, do not focus on Jesus in their exclamation. 169 Still their response qualitatively exceeds that of the other large group of respondents, who asked Jesus to leave their territory. Ironically to date the demons have done the best job of identifying Jesus (8.29). The Pharisees, on the other hand, the other respondents in the present story, are as far off the mark as possible, identifying Jesus’ power with that of the ruler of the demons. This, the second significant action of these characters in the narrative so far, is indeed dramatic. 170 With a perverted twist of irony, they may in fact be the ones aligned, unknowingly, with the demonic ruler, a possibility that will appear more probable to the hearers/readers later. The peak of the story is the crowds’ amazement and speech, while the Pharisees’ speech is given as concluding background information.

169

Felsch (2013: 429) claims this story’s focus on the response of the two characters (primarily or solely) serves to confirm Jesus’ greatness (“deren Größe bestätigt”). But the characterisation of the crowds and the role this plays in the narrative are more complex. The disciples’ response, as with the actions of other key characters in miracle stories until this point, has been focused specifically on Jesus’ identity. Cousland (2002: 138; cf. 129) observes, “While their [the crowds’] astonishment leads them to remark on the healings and exorcisms they have witnessed, they have not yet begun to consider the identity of the one performing the healing....” 170 The Pharisees first significant act is to ask a question (Mt 9.11). Earlier, prior to any action on their part being given as a mainline event (John the Baptiser sees the Pharisees coming to him in 3.7), they receive criticism in speeches of both John and Jesus (3.7–10[– 13]; 5.20), as they do in their first encounter with Jesus (9.12–13). The scribes (γραμματεῖς), who are associated with the Pharisees (5.20), are also criticised by Jesus (5.20) and are compared negatively with respect to Jesus by the crowds (7.29). Through the association the Pharisees may be seen as brought into loose connection with Herod’s violent opposition to Jesus at his birth (2.4; cf. 12.14).

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

235

In this way the series of ten miracle stories, following Jesus’ inaugural teaching, comes to its conclusion and its high point. 171 The six responses, involving the actions of six characters (the crowds, the Pharisees, the disciples, the Gentile pig-herders, the people of Gadara and two suppliants), have played a key role in portraying the range of relationships to Jesus that have emerged. But the responses have not had the only or the most important part in the portrayal. Jesus’ affirmation (8.10, 13; 9.22, 28–29) or criticism (8.26) of the characters’ level of trust has been important, as has the narrator’s comment of Jesus’ perception of the faith of some (9.2). 172 Perhaps surprisingly, the disciples are the one group criticised expressly in this regard. Nevertheless, as the stories of failed calls to discipleship show, the disciples surpass others who have sought to follow Jesus. 173 Also interesting is the ambivalent characterisation of a pair of suppliants who demonstrated trust and disobedience. Besides Jesus, the character who stands out in the series is the Gentile centurion, whose great faith is unmatched among Jesus’ ethnic compatriots in the Galilee. Other Gentiles, however, had a disastrous, unwelcoming response to Jesus’ exorcist activities. The only ones with a poorer reception of Jesus were, ironically, the various groups of religious leaders. A ruler and a woman’s suffering of hemorrhaging, like the centurion, demonstrated quality trust. The crowds have shown good intentions, but clearly something in them is lacking, in light of Jesus’ words to the centurion and the dissonance between their proclamation of praise and his own commentary on his activity. Noticeably, responses do not play a (significant; cf. 8.15d) role in the first triad of miracle stories (8.1–15). When the response motif is first employed, in the second triad (8.23–9.8), it is used to expose inadequate (8.27; 9.8) and negative (8.33–34) appreciations of Jesus. In the final four miracle stories, a response either does not help in the portrayal of any character (9.26) or presents disobedience (9.31) or inadequate appreciation and opposition (9.33b–34). In short, the response motif is employed relatively late and is not used for positive portrayal. Such portrayal, coming early, happens first through a suppliant’s request and Jesus’ reaction to it. The opposition of the religious leaders escalates in the final story to the point of the defaming of Jesus. The earlier charge of blasphemy is bested by a charge that Jesus operates through the Satan’s power, the very foe, the readers/hearers know, Jesus successfully defeated after his commission and em171 Similarly, Boring (2000: 223–224, 241). Note in the last series of miracle stories (Mt 9.18–34), the relation of the relevant characters to Jesus declines from exemplary faith to dismal rejection and calumny. 172 See Howell (1990: 133). 173 While the call scenes in Mt 8–9 bring a discipleship theme to the fore at points, it would be going too far to argue that all the miracle stories here should be understood within a discipleship context (cf. Howell 1990: 135).

236

Chapter 3: Matthew

powerment from the voice from heaven. How will Jesus answer this challenge from the Pharisees? 174 The narrator will have the hearers/readers wait a while for the answer. XIII. Intervening material A summary statement of Jesus going around through the towns of the Galilee 175 is the stage for his comments about his compassion on the crowds and the need for workers. That the “sheep” are troubled and thrown about is probably to be understood as a criticism of the religious leaders in the Galilee (9.36). Jesus’ comments lead to, following a listing of the disciples, a lengthy speech by Jesus who commissions 176 and sends them out. Jesus’ second lengthy speech, directed now to his disciples, heightens the sense of tension and forthcoming conflict. On the one hand unclean spirits are the opponents. Jesus gives the disciples power to cast them out and to heal every sickness, as they continue his task of proclaiming the arrival of the kingdom of Heaven. On the other hand, harsh and even violent opposition is foretold from rulers of synagogues, kings and even whole cities. Even within families where some receive the kingdom, others will resist severely. Death is foretold, but also reward. Jesus, along with the one who sent him, is to receive allegiance greater than any familial ties. And, tying in the last miracle story, since Jesus has been called Beelzebul, then his disciples can expect no better treatment. When even John the Baptiser in prison questions whether he was correct in identifying Jesus as his successor, Jesus cites various instances of the healings he has performed as a demonstration. This context prepares the way for Jesus’ criticism of the contemporary “generation,” which, the hearers/readers may be surprised to discover, have not received either John or Jesus. Similarly, harsh words of judgment fall on the cities of Chorazin, Bethsaida and Capernaum, because they have not repented, though having seen Jesus’ acts of power. Evidently the earlier responses of amazement by crowds are not to

174

For Anderson (1994: 177), too, the final story in the sequence “plants in the implied reader’s mind seeds of a conflict which will come to flower later in the Gospel.” 175 Mt 9.35 forms an inclusio with 4.23, tying the first major teaching section with a narration of Jesus’ first might deeds. Note the thematically related 7.28–29, that comes between the two parts. 176 The disciples are commissioned to heal and perform exorcisms, initially, before the listing of the Twelve. Later this commission is repeated and Jesus adds that they are to proclaim the kingdom (Mt 10.7–8).

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

237

be understood as sufficient or acceptable. 177 Religious authorities, too, seem to get special reproach. 178 XIV. Matthew 12.14 Two stories of conflict regarding the Sabbath with the Pharisees follow. First (Mt 12.1–8), Jesus, referring to himself as the Son of Humanity, presents himself as lord of the Sabbath, when his disciples’ work on the day is challenged. 179 The question of whether healing on the Sabbath is permissible is raised by the Pharisees in “their” synagogue at the opening of the next story (12.9–14). Jesus’ answer puts emphasis on the value of doing good to humans on the Sabbath. 180 Following the healing of the man with the “withered” hand, the Pharisees engage in the first violence-oriented response (12.14): ἐξελθόντες δὲ οἱ Φαρισαῖοι συμβούλιον ἔλαβον κατ᾿ αὐτοῦ ὅπως αὐτὸν ἀπολέσωσιν. This, the story’s final development, is its highpoint. 181 The vision of future violence overshadows the story’s other aspects. The irony, of course, is that the Son of Humanity, doing good and healing on the Sabbath, will be destroyed by those plotting evil and harm on the same day. 182 Therefore Jesus’ self-description, the Son of Humanity, now takes on a sense of foreboding. 183 Jesus’ earlier predictions to his disciples already begin to find their fulfillment. The narrative moves, now, towards Jesus’ execution. But is this God’s plan? XV. Matthew 12.23–24 Aware of their intents, Jesus escapes and heals many from the crowds that follow, now instructing them all to remain silent (earlier only a few were given such a command [Mt. 8.4; 9.30]). Yet further conflict with the Pharisees ensues in an exorcism episode (12.22–45). The act of deliverance and the responses occur early on, setting the stage for lengthy interaction between 177

Similarly, Howell (1990: 138–139). A doxology (Mt 11.25–26), towards the end of the series of verbal exchange and utterances, sets up an antithesis between the wise and the children. 179 Starnizke (2013: 436) is probably right to see the concept of the Son of Humanity having authority on the Sabbath as binding both stories together. 180 On the use of ἄνθρωπος at various narration-levels in the story, helping create the said emphasis, see Starnitzke (2013: 437). 181 At the same time importance is given to Jesus’ analogy, the centre of the story’s “Ringkomposition” (Starnitzke 2013: 437). (Contra Starnitzke, the HP in Mt 12.13 does not highlight Jesus’ speech, but the following healing.) 182 Similarly, Davies and Allison (1988–1997: 2:322). 183 At the same time, a sense of the future authority of the Son of Humanity has also been indicated (Mt 10.23). 178

238

Chapter 3: Matthew

Jesus and his opponents. Two characters, “crowds” and Pharisees, both respond in ways akin to what occurred in a similar exorcism, the final miracle story in chapter nine, (12.23–24): καὶ ἐξίσταντο πάντες οἱ ὄχλοι καὶ ἔλεγον· μήτι οὗτός ἐστιν ὁ υἱὸς Δαυίδ; οἱ δὲ Φαρισαῖοι ἀκούσαντες εἶπον· οὗτος οὐκ ἐκβάλλει τὰ δαιμόνια εἰ μὴ ἐν τῷ Βεελζεβοὺλ ἄρχοντι τῶν δαιμονίων.

The crowds once again are amazed and have direct speech. Here they turn their attention to Jesus’ identity. 184 Their question either expects a negative answer, that Jesus is not the Son of David, or allows for the questioners’ doubt concerning the answer. 185 The Pharisees’ utterance, however, is presented as reacting to the crowds (ἀκούσαντες), 186 though it contains the same accusation as the last time. And, in contrast to the previous similar story, this time the crowds’ actions are backgrounded, while the Pharisees’ accusation comes as a mainline event. 187 The following, extended speech by Jesus (12.25–37), directed at the Pharisees, offers the awaited answer to their challenge. 188 He justifies his exorcisms as worked by the spirit of God, just as he condemns them for their idle words, which will be judged in due time. A presumably sarcastic request by some of his opponents for a sign brings on further, scathing criticism (12.39–42). As the equation between the “generation” and the religious leaders is made explicit, earlier judgements against Galilean cities is recalled in Jesus’ words against the Pharisees. Though implicit in this instance, in both cases Jesus’ acts of power should have brought about the repentance of the recipients and observers. 189 Jesus also cryptically predicts his imminent death and resurrection, as the Son of Humanity, thus investing an important sense into this title, a sense that will only grow as time goes on. 184

“The crowds’ interest has shifted from the activity of Jesus to Jesus himself” (Cousland 2002: 138) between the similar stories of exorcism and the respective reactions (Mt 9.33; 12.23–24). 185 For Boring (2000: 285, incl. n. 261) the crowds in Mt 12.23 take “a step further in the direction of discipleship, entertaining the possibility that Jesus might indeed be the hoped-for son of David,” though “the question stops short of affirmation.” Davies and Allison (1988–1997: 335) suggest something similar. Cousland’s (2002: 138) reading is superior: “[T]he question of whether he might be the Son of David... is only broached....” 186 Similarly, Davies and Allison (1988–1997: 2:335). Note that the crowds’ emotion and speech are backgrounded, while the Pharisees’ speech is a mainline event that constitutes a development (δέ) in the discourse. 187 Cousland (2002: 139), for other reasons, also sees an “intensification” between the two stories with regards to the presentation of opposition to Jesus. 188 See, similarly, Anderson (1994: 178). 189 μετανοῆσαι, a Leitwort in the earlier context, ties the two incidents together (Mt 11.20, 21; 12.41).

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

239

XVI. Intervening material A final, brief episode in this series pertaining to Jesus’ disciples and opponents pits the former against even Jesus’ own relatives, who have come seeking him out. It seems that only those who become Jesus’ disciples have truly entered the kingdom of Heaven. The third speech by Jesus (Mt 13.1–52), comprising a sequence of parables, is different than the earlier two in that it vacillates between public and private discourse, the latter directed to the disciples. It also, relatedly, involves interaction with other interlocutors. This movement from public to private, which happens twice, is reinforced by the nature of the parables and their interpretation. A distance is created between insiders and outsiders. 190 The envisioned division is intensified in the episode in the synagogue of Jesus’ hometown, Nazareth (Mt 13.53–58). His teaching evokes a reaction from those present that is akin to occurrences in earlier texts, including some miracle-story responses. Amazement (13.54: ἐκπλήσσεσθαι), followed by extensive direct discourse, outlining the audience’s familiarity with Jesus’ family and social standing and inability to explain the providence of his sagacity, leads to their “stumbling.” Jesus’ reply shows that he considers their reaction a dishonour to him. He performs merely a few acts of power there, none of which is described in detail. No response is mentioned. The amazement of the Nazareth audience requires further discussion as it has echoes in the narrative up to this point. Crowds were amazed at Jesus’ teaching, too, after his first speech. The disciples were amazed at his uncanny power to calm a storm. Twice crowds have been amazed at Jesus’ exorcism of demons. None of these instances, nor the response of fear to a healing, have been deemed adequate. Questions demonstrating misunderstanding and/or unbelief have been recurrent in them. The disciples alone are those with the blessed eyes and ears, the one group that has forsaken everything to follow him, though even their comprehension up to this point has been put into question. Yet a few individuals have demonstrated faith, once even amazement-inspiring faith. The retrospective story of John the Baptiser’s execution at the hands of Herod the tetrarch suggests doom envisioned by the Pharisees for Jesus, John’s successor. At the same time it serves to explain Jesus’ motivation for withdrawing to a solitary place. The possibility that the violent death of John and, if foreshadowed, also that of Jesus could be a part of God’s plan is left

190 The masses do not have eyes to see or ears to hear. Jesus disciples, on the other hand, have eyes and ears that are blessed. The various parables touch on the limited number of those who will enter the kingdom as well as the eventual judgment and the great effectiveness of the small enclave of Jesus’ followers.

240

Chapter 3: Matthew

hanging. Interestingly, through a comment from Herod, Jesus’ working of acts of power is related to the concept of resurrection. When Jesus is followed by crowds, despite his implied mourning and earlier criticisms against the “generation,” he has compassion on them and heals their sick. Still, given this and his miraculous provision of food for them all, the wondrous event in the next story (Mt 14.15–21), no response of the crowds is noted. Perhaps it is not needed – the intent is to portray the limitless compassion of Jesus for the sincere, yet not fully understanding crowds. Alternatively, perhaps the crowds are too busy getting their fill, too little interested in the person providing it. Their characterisation is ambiguous, open to multiple interpretations. XVII. Matthew 14.26 and 14.33 A public miracle is followed by a private one, after Jesus forces his disciples into a boat to go ahead of him to the other side of the sea. The story (Mt 14.23b–33) opens with Jesus alone and the disciples’ boat being tossed about in a storm. 191 The private, stormy setting recalls the previous rescue nature miracle, in which these established followers responded. In the second, much lengthier scene (14.25–33) Jesus comes to them walking on the water. The disciples’ response is extreme (14.26): οἱ δὲ μαθηταὶ ἰδόντες αὐτὸν ἐπὶ τῆς θαλάσσης περιπατοῦντα ἐταράχθησαν λέγοντες ὅτι φάντασμά ἐστιν, καὶ ἀπὸ τοῦ φόβου ἔκραξαν.

Two of its three elements are stated twice (verbal/vocal and emotional). This is the first time fear has been accompanied by another emotion. Unlike earlier (cf. 9.8), here the fear (and being troubled) does not evoke praise of God but a scream. 192 The disciples clearly misidentify Jesus too. The fear is greater than the amazement in the earlier, related episode – so too is the nature of the miraculous happenings related to the storm. Narration has again entered into a mythic level. 193 Jesus replies, seeking to calm their fears. After Jesus takes up Peter’s suggestion to invite him also to come walk on the water, Peter experiences initial success! His reaction (14.30) to seeing the effects of the wind bears striking similarity to the disciples’ response to seeing Jesus walk – 191 The fronted temporal reference in Mt 14.23b (ὀψίας δὲ γενομένης) likely marks the beginning of a new episode. Re-introduction of the story’s characters, besides Jesus (14.23b–24), and the (re-)statement of the setting support this assessment. The story is closely related to the immediately foregoing, as the separation between Jesus and his disciples (and the use of προάγειν [14.22]) sets up the expectation that their reuniting will be narrated. Some (e.g. Hartenstein 2013: 454) see the story beginning with 14.22. 192 Kingsbury (1992: 15) also takes the fear to be presented negatively. 193 Taylor’s (2011: 133) identification of this episode as “practically a ghost story” does not do justice to the features it contains, as the analysis here shows.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

241

he sees (βλέπων); becomes afraid (ἐφοβήθη); and, beginning to sink, screams (ἔκραξεν). Peter has failed. Jesus, pulling him back up, chastises his lack of faith. The term Jesus’ uses (ὀλιγόπιστος: 14.31) recalls his earlier, similar rebuke of the disciples in the other storm at sea (8.26). 194 With the two back in the boat, the storm abates. The story concludes with a formally simple, powerful response (14.33): οἱ δὲ ἐν τῷ πλοίῳ προσεκύνησαν αὐτῷ λέγοντες· ἀληθῶς θεοῦ υἱὸς εἶ. It is the story’s dramatic highpoint. The disciples’ fear and unbelief has given way to understanding and a proper posturing towards Jesus – the first time characters succeed in this respect. 195 The change is likely due to the culmination of the entire scope of happenings: Jesus’ walking on the water; his call to Peter and Peter’s semi-success at walking on water; his saving Peter; and his return to them, now as one they know, just as the storm ceases and the world returns to normal. 196 Parallel stories from the Scriptures, especially the crossing of the Reed Sea, are invoked in the episode. (Such parallelism is considered further in Chapter Seven, below.) Looking back the hearers/readers can discern an escalation in the responses of the disciples in two very similar types of stories, in private contexts at sea. Jesus has demonstrated greater power and their type of response has followed suit, increasing in intensity and appropriateness. 197 The first miracle story with a response described the disciples’ emotions and speech, elements contained in the responses in the present story too. The concluding speech in the (final) response in both stories focuses on Jesus’ identity, the latter answering the former. 198 XVIII. Intervening material Back on dry land, the masses continue to bring their sick to Jesus, all of whom are healed (Mt 14.34–36). Yet does the silence concerning these characters’ appreciation of Jesus, in light of the foregoing, reinforce the division 194 On this and other shared elements (e.g. cry of σῶσον) see Anderson (1994: 176– 177); cf. Held (1963: 205–206). 195 Hartenstein (2013: 454) observes how the disciples’ response presents the solution to the problem set up by Herod at the start of the chain of events leading to the story. It is best not to see the disciples here as “worshipping” Jesus (contra, e.g., Kingsbury 1986: 113), but performing an act of reverence before him, prostration. 196 Hartenstein (2013: 455) argues, alternatively, that the calming of the storm has lesser importance. Still, as she demonstrates (Hartenstein 2013: 456–457), the disciples’ actions are narrated consistently in relation to Jesus. 197 Similarly Anderson (1994: 176–177); cf. Howell (1990: 142). 198 “They [the disciples] in effect give answer to the question they themselves raised earlier in another episode out on the sea...” (Kingsbury 1986: 113; cf. Carter 1996: 220). Their statement is “one of three human confessions of Jesus as the Son of God” (Anderson 1994: 177). The other two are discussed further, below.

242

Chapter 3: Matthew

between insiders and outsiders? This possibility seems mitigated, at least in part, but the ardour with which the crowds seek out Jesus and the trust they have simply to touch his tassels and be healed. 199 Another conflict with the Pharisees, along with the scribes, and a related, subsequent scene of private interpretation of a parable for Jesus’ disciples again present the insider/outsider dichotomy. At the same time, while Jesus is taken aback that the disciples are still lacking understanding, their characterisation is complexified. The account of healing of a demonised child (Mt 15.21–28) is the first story, during Jesus’ adult life, to occur in Gentile territory. The petitioning mother, a Gentile, demonstrates exemplary faith – just as the petitioning centurion did earlier. 200 And – again like him – she receives commendation from Jesus for her faith (15.28a). 201 The irony is that the woman is a better exemplar of faith than the Galileans who have benefited from him. 202 She outshines the disciples too. 203 As in previous stories where the quality of the faith of the petitioner(s) was commented on (8.10; 9.22; cf. 9.2 [though, see 9.27–31]), here too any potential response of the petitioner to the healing is deemed unnecessary for narration. XIX. Matthew 15.31 In contrast, in a story of numerous healings (Mt 15.29–31), the multitude receiving benefit from Jesus responds with amazement and praise to God. The response contains three elements – seeing, emotional and verbal (15.31): ὥστε τὸν ὄχλον θαυμάσαι βλέποντας κωφοὺς λαλοῦντας, κυλλοὺς ὑγιεῖς καὶ χωλοὺς περιπατοῦντας καὶ τυφλοὺς βλέποντας· καὶ ἐδόξασαν τὸν θεὸν Ἰσραήλ.

199

The story of the woman healed of hemorrhaging seems to have gotten around, as many now are healed simply by touching Jesus’ tassels. 200 See Poplutz (2013: 467) and Anderson (1994: 184). 201 In her request she also recalls the faith of the ruler, who, bowing before Jesus, requested help for his daughter. She joins the ranks of the few who have bowed before Jesus: the magi (Mt 2.11); a leper (8.2); the ruler (9.18) and the disciples (14.33). 202 The Jewish-Gentile motif is emphasised in numerous ways, including the woman’s recognising Jesus as the Son of David, and Jesus’ stark statements regarding his mission to the lost sheep of Israel and her being a dog. The actions of this woman in unclean territory also put Jesus’ prior, ritually pure interlocutors to shame (Poplutz 2013: 463; Anderson 1994: 184). 203 “She is willing to receive ‘bread-crumbs’ while the disciples do not understand about bread and the loaves of the 5,000 or the 4,000...” (Anderson 1994: 184).

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

243

The praise to God, on the one hand, cannot be ill-placed. Yet, on the other hand, until now the greatest demonstration of faith (i.e. the centurion) 204 and the most profound response, the disciples’ recent prostration and confession in the boat, have been centred on Jesus. Tension is created. 205 Also, the greater attention is given to the crowd’s amazement, which is the episode’s highpoint. The praise of God here recalls the healing of the paralytic, where the crowds praised God but misunderstood who the Son of Humanity is. In the meantime the crowds have considered the possibility that Jesus is the Son of David (12.23). But this idea seems since then to have escaped them. The portrayal of the crowds is fully complex. XX. Intervening material The feeding of the 4000 (Mt 15.32–38) follows on the heels of this brief story of healings, as did the earlier feeding story on a similar summary of healings. 206 The intensity of the need is heightened, since the crowds have been three days with Jesus already this time and significant danger is posed if they leave him now, without any food. Jesus, not the disciples, this time initiates the exchange about provisions. Again, as in the earlier parallel story, Jesus’ compassion for the crowds is stressed, though now it is articulated by Jesus, not the narrator. Jesus’ continued compassion for the crowd, despite their many, repeated shortcomings, speaks in their favour. On the other hand the disciples, despite the earlier experience, betray no understanding of how they and Jesus might solve the problem. 207 Still, Jesus follows the already familiar procedure, narrated again in detail, and the multitude is satisfied. Again there is no response. Just the number of mouths fed is given. Perhaps their earlier praise of God is still ringing in the hearers’/readers’ ears and that is enough. Or perhaps the narrator underscores one more time, their inability to appreciate the miracle Jesus has worked for them. Upon another request for a sign from the Pharisees and, now, the Sadducees (last seen in their interaction with John the Baptiser in chapter three), Jesus repeats his statement that only the sign of Jonah (the contents are not 204 In the immediately foregoing episode, the faith of the Canaanite woman is also focused on Jesus to some extent (Mt 15.22), but less so than with the centurion. 205 Similarly, Cousland (2002: 134, 135) observes that here “the crowds offer no hint of... praise of Jesus” and their praise of God, “though in itself laudable, stops short of any sign of commitment to or of faith in Jesus.” 206 Other features, especially vast shared vocabulary, evoke the context of the earlier feeding story too – see, e.g., σπλαχνισθῆναι (Mt 15.32; cf. 14.14) and ἔρημος/ἐρημία (15.33; 14.15), appearing at the beginning. 207 “Not only does their [i.e the disciples’] faith pale in comparison with the faith of the Gentile woman, but they seem not to have learned anything from the preceding feeding miracle...” (Howell 1990: 144; cf. Anderson 1994: 187).

244

Chapter 3: Matthew

specified this time) will be given (Mt 16.1–4). When, by use of metaphor, Jesus in private warns the disciples of the teaching of Pharisees and Sadducees (16.5–12 ), they again demonstrate their dullness, for which they are chastised. For the third time Jesus calls one or (here) more of them ὀλιγόπιστοι (16.8; cf. 8.26 and 14.31). But the last time the criticism was levelled at them, in the storm on the boat, the situation seemed repaired with the disciples’ prostration before and correct confession of Jesus. The complexity of their character portrayal grows. In the region of Caesarea Philippi Jesus and his disciples hold a further private conversation, again initiated by him, now concerning his identity (16.13–28). Peter, as in the recent storm at sea, stands out among the disciples, experiencing initial success in relating to Jesus in a more commendable manner. His confession that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God, receives the teacher’s affirmation, just as Peter personally receives strong commendation. This confession is linked closely to the recent, private epiphany, when the disciples, jointly, declared Jesus to be the Son of God. 208 In the stupefying next interaction, however, Peter receives the harshest criticism, being identified as the Satan, for opposing Jesus’ first open speech about his soon coming suffering and death in Jerusalem at the hands of the leadership there and third-day resurrection. God’s plan involves Jesus’ execution. Peter has now been an agent of the Satan to hinder the plan. How else will the Satan seek to thwart it? In the subsequent call for his disciples to prepare themselves for similar sufferings Jesus employs the Son of Humanity phrase in reference to himself, in his future glory. Yet, here and earlier in Jesus’ inciting revelation it is clear that the disciples understanding of him as Son of God needs modification – he must die on a cross. 209 XXI. Matthew 17.4, 17.6 and 17.8 An even smaller circle of just three disciples, appearing in this configuration for the first time, accompany Jesus in private to a high mountain (Mt 17.1– 8[–13]). The epiphany story, focalised first through the narrator and then through the disciples, contains three responses, which aid in bringing about the character-focalisation. Jesus’ form changes, his face shines, his clothes become white like light. Moses and Elijah appear then, too, and speak with Jesus. The episode thereby ventures into a mythic level of narration, leaving aside the level used commonly for episodes of healing and exorcism, namely that found in works of “romance.” At the same time the present story invokes epiphanic episodes from the Scriptures – encounters with God at Sinai, involving Moses and Elijah – that bear numerous similarities (see further, be208 209

So, too, Kingsbury (1986: 113) and Carter (1996: 221). See also Kingsbury 1986: 113.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

245

low, Chapter Seven). At the aforementioned profound happenings, Peter, once again standing out among his companions, responds verbally (17.4): ἀποκριθεὶς δὲ ὁ Πέτρος εἶπεν τῷ Ἰησοῦ· κύριε, καλόν ἐστιν ἡμᾶς ὧδε εἶναι· εἰ θέλεις, ποιήσω ὧδε τρεῖς σκηνάς, σοὶ μίαν καὶ Μωϋσεῖ μίαν καὶ Ἠλίᾳ μίαν.

The hearers/readers may not know whether to trust his suggestion, given his track record in such private settings, especially recently (16.23; cf. 15.15–16). And this is the first time that a response has consisted of merely speech! There is no emotion, no prostration. Nothing but Peter’s suggestion. Any misgiving is confirmed when a cloud of light “overshadows” all three disciples and a heavenly voice singles Jesus out as the one worthy of their attention, termed “my beloved son.” This proclamation, accompanied by the private setting and (a few) disciples alone being present, forms a close connection with the two rescue nature miracle stories and Peter’s recent confession. 210 Whereas Peter, acting individually, had partial success, followed by rebuke, in two of these episodes, he now has only dismal failure, incurring correction. All three respond now, physically and emotionally, with heightened intensity (17.6): καὶ ἀκούσαντες οἱ μαθηταὶ ἔπεσαν ἐπὶ πρόσωπον αὐτῶν καὶ ἐφοβήθησαν σφόδρα. The response, probably the greatest explicit expression of emotion in view of a miracle, is linked unequivocally to the heavenly voice. 211 It also further ties this epiphany to the early epiphanic stories at sea. Jesus touches the three and speaks to calm their fears. That the narrator moves between the disciples’ interaction with the heavenly cloud and voice to their interaction with Jesus, while giving a view of their inner world of feelings, brings the narration closely toward focalisation through the disciples. The character-focalisation is finally achieved fully in the concluding sentence, which relates their visual sensation. In the scene’s closing line and moment of greatest interest, a creative variation on the response motif, it seems that something is out of place (17.8): ἐπάραντες δὲ τοὺς ὀφθαλμοὺς αὐτῶν οὐδένα εἶδον εἰ μὴ αὐτὸν Ἰησοῦν μόνον. Similar to responses seen earlier, the disciples’ visual sensation is noted. Seeing Jesus is particularly underscored. 212 But strangely nothing is said about any changed perspective on the part of the disciples. Nothing is 210

So, too, Kingsbury 1986: 114; cf. 105. Similarly, Davies and Allison (1988–1997: 2:703, 706). Given the presence of “Son of God” in an earlier, related response (Mt 14.33), it is likely that here (17.5), too, the identification is the key content of the speech. 212 This is a rare instance in Mt of the anarthrous noun Ἰησοῦς (Levinsohn 2000: 159) – on the textual variant, see above, n. 47. The anarthrous noun and the “negation + exception/restriction” (Runge 2010: 87) statement (οὐδένα... εἰ μὴ...) are both discourse features that highlight Jesus, the object of the visual sensation. 211

246

Chapter 3: Matthew

narrated, such as an exclamation about Jesus (like that made on the second boat-trip, after all had returned to normal), which would demonstrate an improved response and corresponding understanding. This is a strange kind of highpoint for a miracle story. It seems that not only has Peter received correction regarding Jesus’ identity, twice within a week and with severity, but all three characters that are privy to this epiphany are implicitly criticised by the narrator for their lack of comprehension. Still, the fact that the narrative is focalised through these weak disciples aids in bringing the hearers/readers to sympathise with them. This monumental event, narrated in a mythic level, has ventured into a dimension of reality that seems beyond the comprehension of earthbound humans. Censure of the disciples is further mitigated by Jesus’ earlier compassionate gesture of touching them and his encouraging them not to be afraid. Nevertheless, the disciples have failed in understanding who Jesus is and their failure is part of a larger development in the narrative. Hearers/readers can see here the third private miracle for disciples only, in a secluded setting, in a series of miracles being epiphanic or having an epiphanic element and increasing in grandeur. In each episode a correlating mythic level of narration has been employed. Jesus’ power over the storm inspired the first response, involving both an emotion (amazement) and a question as to who Jesus might be. In the incident of Jesus’ walking on water was brought about, eventually, prostration and an evidently insightful proclamation of Jesus’ identity. Preceding this, however was an extreme reaction involving fear-laden screaming. Here, in contrast, great fear and falling at the appearance of the cloud are later replaced by mere visual observation, accompanied by silence and no physical posturing. Though the type and level of emotion has intensified in the string of private miracle stories, the level of understanding, focused on the issue of Jesus as the Son of God, has stopped progressing. High expectations of the disciples are dashed. When will the disciples understand who Jesus is and his mission? Will they at all? Aspects of the story make it a more grand revelation than anything to date. Not just the Angel of the Lord (as in the opening chapters) makes an appearance, but Moses, Elijah and the glorious cloud, itself, containing God’s voice. At his baptism, too, a voice from heaven proclaimed Jesus’ Sonship, accompanied by a manifestation of God’s spirit. The proclamations’ similar wording, in addition to the heavenly voice motif, which only occurs in these two locations, brings the stories together. Here the heavens did not just open, but the cloud of glory itself came near. At the same time the transfiguration story recalls Jesus’ baptism. In both cases a voice from heaven says very similar things to/about Jesus (3.17; 17.5). After the first declaration, the meaning of Jesus being God’s son was immediately challenged by the Satan. Can such a threat be expected again, after the second declaration? The Satan, through Peter, has just recently op-

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

247

posed Jesus’ understanding of being the Son of God. The three disciples present now on the mountain seem equally imperceptive, despite the heavenly voice. Are they aligned with the Satan in their appreciation of Jesus’ identity as God’s son? Will they align with the Satan in posing a new challenge to God’s plan? XXII. Intervening material In the next scene (Mt 17.9–13) Jesus, commanding the three’s silence about the occurrence, 213 again predicts the imminent suffering (likening it to that of John the Baptiser, “Elijah”) and resurrection of the Son of Humanity. Not just the three privileged disciples, but also those left behind demonstrate their failure. In the following exorcism story (Mt 17.14–20), the “generation’s” lack of faith is likened to the little faith of the disciples. Here, again an outsider/insider theme is taken up as Jesus explains the disciples’ failure to them in private. Though the petitioner and recipient himself may not be included in the censure, Jesus’ words addressed in the second person to the contemporary generation are foreboding. Perhaps then for this reason and on account of the concluding private discourse, it is no surprise that the story contains no response. 214 The disciples become sad, when hearing for the second time Jesus predict his death and resurrection. This is the first time a character in interaction with Jesus has become sad (Mt 17.23). It would seem clear that the disciples’ perspective is significantly in error. The insider/outsider motif plays a formative role, again, in the ensuing miracle story. In a private conversation with Peter, Jesus’ explanation of why he and his disciples are exempt from paying the temple tax concludes with a command to Peter to pay it anyway, in order to not “cause them to stumble.” Though the proposed miraculous means of provision of money are foretold, neither they nor any further event, including a response, are narrated. The emphasis in this peculiar miracle story remains on Jesus’ private explanation to Peter of their being, implicitly, sons of the kingdom of Heaven. Jesus’ fourth major speech, in private to his disciples, begins with a question from them as to who is the greatest in the kingdom of Heaven. His speech promotes the children, the little ones, exhorts to take all measures against inhibiting them and advocates extravagant forgiveness. These themes are revisited in the following episodes. A brief summary of Jesus’ healing many is followed by confrontations with the would-be-wise Pharisees and, then, the memory-challenged disci213 καὶ καταβαινόντων αὐτῶν ἐκ τοῦ ὄρους ἐνετείλατο αὐτοῖς ὁ Ἰησοῦς λέγων· μηδενὶ εἴπητε τὸ ὅραμα ἕως οὗ ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἐκ νεκρῶν ἐγερθῇ (Mt 17.9). 214 Similarly, Howell (1990: 146–147).

248

Chapter 3: Matthew

ples, who prevent children from coming to him. One seeking Jesus’ Torahwisdom is invited to sell everything, give it to the poor and follow him. The young man, sad (19:22 λυπούμενος), cannot take up the invitation on account of his wealth. Jesus’ teaching, inspired by the incident, evokes the disciples’ extreme amazement (19.25: ἐξεπλήσσοντο σφόδρα). Nevertheless their commitment to follow (19.27–28) Jesus will be rewarded when the Son of Humanity sits on his thrown in glory. A promise of future reversal of those who are now first and last, accompanied by an illustrative parable and another prediction of Jesus’ calamitous fate and resurrection in Jerusalem, clashes with the tone of James and John’s and their mother’s request for the two’s greatness. Such misunderstanding must be corrected by further teaching from Jesus on service as the measure of greatness. XXIII. Matthew 20.34c For the second time, recalling the earliest stories of healing, two blind men cry out for Jesus’ mercy, naming him the Son of David (20.29–34). Their persistence, despite the resistance of the crowds around them, is rewarded. The crowds appear in a less than favourable light when, in an exchange with Jesus, the blind men’s request for healing is granted. 215 Throughout the emphasis falls on Jesus’ compassion (Münch 2013b: 497). 216 The short sentence describing their response of following, the only instance of such a response, concludes the story (20.34c): καὶ ἠκολούθησαν αὐτῷ. Like Peter and companions in the opening scenes of Jesus’ public ministry (4.20, 22) and, later, Matthew (9.9), these two make the decision to come alongside Jesus in his journey, likely becoming his disciples. They outshine the earlier pair healed from blindness, who responded disobediently. 217 These healed men prove to be better than the wealthy young man, too, whom Jesus recently called to follow him (19.21). Though as workers who begin their toil in the vineyard in the last hours of the day (20.1–16), they can expect to receive the same reward as those following (cf. 19.27–28) Jesus since the beginning. 215

Anderson (1994: 183) suggests that the crowds’ rebuke – accompanied by the lack of compassion (see below, n. 216) – “foreshadows their eventual switch to the side of the Jewish leaders.” Davies and Allison (1988–1997: 3:109) note the subtle irony in that when the crowd shortly hereafter calls Jesus the Son of David, it “does precisely what it seeks to prevent others doing.” 216 This is the first time that Jesus has compassion on specific individuals. It is worthy of note that the specification of his compassion occurs in connection with a miracle that produces disciples. In contrast is the crowd, who despite having experience of Jesus’ compassion (Mt 9.36; 14.14; 15.32) fail to show it to others (Anderson 1994: 183) 217 Similarly, see Anderson (1994: 181).

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

249

XXIV. Intervening material A throng before and behind Jesus announces his entrance into Jerusalem, recognising him as the Son of David. 218 The whole city shudders, asking τίς ἐστιν οὗτος (Mt 21.10), recalling the city’s similar reaction to news of the birth of the king of the Jews (2.3), an event which saw opposition and great loss of life. 219 While Jesus’ fate will be bloody, ironically, he performs acts of healing in the temple, summarily narrated. The healings contribute, alongside Jesus’ driving out those engaged in commercial activities, to an indignant reaction on the part of chief priests and scribes that partly resembles (21.15– 16a: visual sensation; emotion; speech) responses in miracle stories. 220 The chief priests have not been active since the narrative’s beginning (2.4), there too coupled with the scribes. Jesus’ reply restates the notion that the wise do not perceive God’s workings, but children do. XXV. Matthew 21.20 The next morning (Mt 21.18–22) when Jesus, hungry, curses a fig tree and it immediately shrivels, his disciples respond (21.20): καὶ ἰδόντες οἱ μαθηταὶ ἐθαύμασαν λέγοντες· πῶς παραχρῆμα ἐξηράνθη ἡ συκῆ; The three familiar elements (seeing; emotional; verbal) have amazement at their centre. Astute hearers/readers may recall their similar amazement and question exhibiting lack of understanding (8.27) in the first story of a stilled storm or, more likely, their recent great amazement at his teaching on the implausibility of rich entering the kingdom (19.25). On the other hand, Jesus’ reply, relating faith to the ability to have a mountain move, recalls his rebuff of the disciples (17.20) at their inability to cast out a demon. 221 The disciples’ response here, then, is not cast in a positive light. 222 They do not understand the power that God works for those who trust in him. The accumulative effect of this response and others preceding it seems to indicate that amazement has not been an appropriate way to respond to the miracles Jesus performs. A contrast is 218 The crowds’ pronouncements in relation to Jesus have developed (Mt 9.33; 12.23; 21.9), as Cousland (2002: 141–142) well notes. Yet, other factors prevent any picture of a linear development (see discussion of 15.31, above). 219 “The parallels between Matthew 2 and 26–27 suggest that Jesus’ implicit rejection by Jerusalem in the opening chapters anticipates the rejection later of the Davidic Messiah and Son of God in the passion” (Howell 1990: 199). 220 ἰδόντες δὲ οἱ ἀρχιερεῖς καὶ οἱ γραμματεῖς τὰ θαυμάσια ἃ ἐποίησεν καὶ τοὺς παῖδας τοὺς κράζοντας ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ καὶ λέγοντας· ὡσαννὰ τῷ υἱῷ Δαυίδ, ἠγανάκτησαν. καὶ εἶπαν αὐτῷ· ἀκούεις τί οὗτοι λέγουσιν; (Mt 21.15). 221 On both the link with Mt 17.20 and the amazement’s inappropriateness see also Kingsbury (1986: 116). 222 Similarly Cousland (2002: 129).

250

Chapter 3: Matthew

implied between the disciples, who have to pray for such acts of power to happen (21.22), and Jesus, who simply makes pronouncements and procures what is desired. XXVI. Intervening material A series of conflicts in the temple ensues between Jesus and various religious authorities (21.23–22.46). 223 Parables here undermine the authority of Jesus’ opponents. His teaching evokes amazement from the crowds (ἐξεπλήσσοντο: 22.33) and a coalition of Herod’s sympathisers and Pharisees’ disciples (ἐθαύμασαν: 22.22). 224 The Pharisees are the most active group opposing Jesus, though they ally (21.45–46) themselves with the chief priests, who along with the scribes were the first group to oppose Jesus in the temple, on the previous day. The Pharisees, along with the scribes, receive a thorough lambasting from Jesus in the presence of the crowds (23.1–39). A sequence of private teachings, including prophecies and parables, highlight the unpredictable nature of the return of the Son of Humanity with angelic forces to establish a kingdom and the need for Jesus’ disciples to carry on their work faithfully in the predicted meantime. Strangely, in the distinct, closely linked series of episodes beginning thereafter (26.1–28.20) the Pharisees all but disappear. 225 The plan of Jesus’ opponents, primarily now the chief priests and elders, who want to seize him and 223 Kingsbury’s (1986: 17) idea that the “several groups” of “Jewish leaders” can “be treated as a single character” is perhaps too strongly stated. At any rate, the various groups are (or become) certainly united in purpose – doing away with Jesus. They have in common also that they are evil (Kingsbury 1986: 18–19). On the transition from the Pharisees to the chief priests and elders as the principal opposition, see below. 224 These reactions to teaching have a similar form to some responses to miracles, though hearing not seeing is the sense noted: καὶ ἀκούσαντες ἐθαύμασαν, καὶ ἀφέντες αὐτὸν ἀπῆλθαν (Mt 22.22); καὶ ἀκούσαντες οἱ ὄχλοι ἐξεπλήσσοντο ἐπὶ τῇ διδαχῇ αὐτοῦ (22.33). The latter recalls the crowds’ reaction to Jesus’ first teaching (7.28). The crowd, unfortunately, has not demonstrated a strong positive development since then, though they have recognised that Jesus is the “son of David” (21.9). Cousland (2002: 44; cf. 128, 141) sees the repeated amazement and related phraseology as indicative of “an overall consistency” of the crowd. The consistency can well be seen as a negative trait (a lack of development), given the inadequate reaction, and in light of their progress in other respects. Moreover, the disciples recent response of amazement, less than desirable, has confirmed the unsatisfactory nature of the emotion. 225 The Pharisees appear once, in Mt 27.62. Still, it can be noted, their association with the scribes (noticeably in ch. 23, though also earlier: 5.20; 12.38; 15.1) brings them into the circle of the conspirators against Jesus in chs. 26–28. The scribes themselves appear but once in these chapters (26.57: the trial before Caiaphas). Still they have been repeatedly present among the guilty party in Jesus’ predictions of his unjust execution (16.21; 20.18; cf. 17.22).

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

251

kill him after the feast (26.3–5), conflicts with that of God, who will have Jesus crucified during the feast (26.1–2). This plan begins to unfold as Judas takes up the role of betrayer. Jesus not only is fully cognizant of his schemes but also possesses knowledge of seemingly all that will transpire. He allows himself to be captured, after verbalising his restraint in not calling on heavenly forces to rescue him, a process of humiliation unfolds, despite a challenge to God’s plan coming, once again, through one of his own disciples. Through false accusation and condemnation to beating, crucifixion and ridicule. Along the way Pilate, the crowds and the Roman soldiers become accomplices. 226 The disciples abandon him, while Peter renounces even knowing him. Hanging on the cross, Jesus resists the Satan’s last temptation, voiced through his accomplices, the Jewish authorities, again challenging Jesus’ identity as the Son of God. 227 The Satan wills to overcome God’s plan, but God will not be thwarted and Jesus will die. After Jesus cries in a loud voice and gives up his spirit, miraculously a violent earthquake transpires, just as the temple’s curtain tears in two – the later appearance of resurrected, holy Jewish ancestors is also briefly related, disturbing the usual diachronic narration in the passion. At this point comes the reaction of the Roman executioners, possibly the climax of the narrative, if not Jesus’ death. 228 It (27.54) resembles responses in miracle stories, involving seeing (ἰδόντες) fear (ἐφοβήθησαν σφόδρα) and 226

Cousland (2002: 239) correctly notes that the narrative “does not completely condemn the crowds... [but] leaves open the possibility of forgiveness, especially as the crowds are still distinguished from their leaders after the crucifixion of Jesus, and seen as their dupes.” Yet as the foregoing analysis has indicated, Cousland (2002: 21–22) goes too far when he argues that “favourable” portrayal of the crowds is produced by “virtually all of the actions, responses and statements made by the crowds in the gospel” other than “the crowds’ involvement in Jesus’ arrest and trial.” Closer to the present analysis is that of, e.g., Howell (1990: 142) who speaks of a “mixed” portrayal of the crowds also in the early part of the narrative: their relation to Jesus is “sometimes positive... other times negative.” 227 The invitation for Jesus to escape from the cross (εἰ υἱὸς εἶ τοῦ θεοῦ...: Mt 27.40) recalls the Satan’s wording in his early confrontation with Jesus (4.3, 6). I owe this point to Michael Theophilos (personal communication). 228 The happenings around the ninth hour, following Jesus’ cry of dereliction (a mainline event and development: Mt 27.46a), are given as backgrounded information (imperfects in three sentences: 27.47–49). Then comes Jesus’ (second cry and) death (27.50), a mainline event and development, introduced with δέ. The final development in the episode is the centurion and his companions’ reaction (a finite aorist: 27.54). In this position it likely constitutes the peak of the episode and, thus, the climax of the narrative. (On other grounds, Davies and Allison [1988–1997: 3:628] see “the climax in v. 54.”) On the other hand the heavy encoding of Jesus in 27.50 (use of a full noun phrase) could suggest a greater prominence for this event than for those that follow. At any rate, broadly speaking Jesus’ death, a ransom for many (20.28), is the story’s climax, accomplishing salvation from sins (1.21) with the pouring out of blood for the forgiveness of sins (26.28). Cf. Powell (2009: 81).

252

Chapter 3: Matthew

a proclamation: ἀληθῶς θεοῦ υἱὸς ἦν οὗτος. 229 The reaction is closely related to the response of the three disciples that heard God’s voice at Jesus’ transfiguration. 230 It also confirms the success of God’s plan, despite the Satan’s most recent challenge. Jesus is then buried, though not by those who have been his closest disciples. 231

XXVII. Matthew 28.4 and 28.8 The Angel of the Lord, materialising at the tomb, has not appeared since the opening episodes and there only in dreams. 232 The activity of God, evident there as here, is now intensified. 233 The story about him (Mt 28.1–8) is interwoven among other, tomb-related episodes. The storyline follows the women’s encounter with the angel. As important background information, however, the angel’s encounter with the guards, whom the religious authorities (including the Pharisees) had requested from Pilate, is told. 234 Their response is most dramatic (28.4): ἀπὸ δὲ τοῦ φόβου αὐτοῦ ἐσείσθησαν οἱ τηροῦντες καὶ ἐγενήθησαν ὡς νεκροί. The fear it contains has come to be understood as the more extreme emotion in responses. The two physical elements, depicting a development from arrest (bodily motion) to extreme incapacitation, with falling implied (thus, the element of “falling”), has only the disciples’ falling during a theophany (17.6) as an, albeit limited, precursor. 235 On the other hand, Roman soldiers experiencing fear during an earthquake immediately ὁ δὲ ἑκατόνταρχος καὶ οἱ μετ᾿ αὐτοῦ τηροῦντες τὸν Ἰησοῦν ἰδόντες τὸν σεισμὸν καὶ τὰ γενόμενα ἐφοβήθησαν σφόδρα, λέγοντες· ἀληθῶς θεοῦ υἱὸς ἦν οὗτος (Mt 27.54). 230 Davies and Allison (1988–1997: 2:706) observe various features that tie the stories together, including that “Jesus is confessed by others to be the Son of God,” a confession that is associated with being “overcome with fear” (ἐφοβήθησαν σφόδρα: 17.6; 27.54). Yet, given the contrast of glorification and humiliation, they state (Davies and Allison 1988–1997: 2:706): “We have here pictorial antithetical parallelism, a diptych in which the two places have similar lines but different colours.” 231 Powell (2009: 71) astutely observes that in light of John receiving a decent burial from his disciples (Mt 14.12), the lapse of the Twelve in this regard serves “to expose the depth of those disciples’ unfaithfulness.” The presence of the women at the cross and the burial underscores their complete failure. 232 The angels appearing briefly in Mt 4.11 do not play a narrative role comparable to that of the Angel of the Lord. 233 So Powell (2009: 73–74). 234 Powell (2009: 72–73) discusses the many ironies of the chief priests and Pharisees’ request for a guard, many of which deepen the pathetic portrayal of the disciples, who are in no condition to pull off the envisioned potential hoax. 235 Becoming as though dead is “an ironic fate for those entrusted to guard the dead” (Powell 2009: 74). The choice of σεισθῆναι serves “to create a wordplay” (Davies and Allison 1988–1997: 3:666) with σεισμός (Mt 28.2). 229

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

253

recalls the reaction at Jesus’ execution and the surrounding miraculous events. 236 While this information explains the lack of involvement of the guards and thereby sets the stage for the women’s encounter, any potential initial response of the women is not narrated. Upon return to the main story line the angel immediately speaks to the women, attempting to verbally calm or prevent their fear and announcing Jesus’ resurrection in words which may well bring about “shock of recognition through repetition.” 237 He instructs them to see the place where his corpse had laid and to quickly go and tell the disciples about his resurrection and their meeting in the Galilee. Their response to the heavenly messenger has three elements (28.8): καὶ ἀπελθοῦσαι ταχὺ ἀπὸ τοῦ μνημείου μετὰ φόβου καὶ χαρᾶς μεγάλης ἔδραμον ἀπαγγεῖλαι τοῖς μαθηταῖς αὐτοῦ.

The resultant characterisation is mixed. On the one hand, like Joseph in the opening stories of angelophany, they obey the angel’s commands – they go quickly, with the purpose of announcing to the disciples. Identity and similarity of word choice and word order 238 makes their obedience stand out all the more clearly, recalling Joseph’s obedient responses in the opening chapters. On the other hand, the presence of fear would seem to betray some lack of trust or even disobedience, given the angel’s greeting. (Joseph was never afraid in his responses to the Angel of the Lord.) It is not specified that the women do not look at the place where Jesus had lain. This might also indicate a lack of full compliance. 239 At any rate the fear is mixed with joy, a positive trait. 240 This is the first time for the appearance not only of joy but also of such a complex mixture of emotions. In sum these women are doing what they have been told and there is an expectation of positive developments to come. 236

Similarly Davies and Allison (1988–1997: 3:666). Anderson (1994: 158–170, 170). She traces anticipations of the resurrection (Mt 16.21; 17.9b; 17.23; 20.19; 26.32) and of the meeting in the Galilee yet to come (26.32) given earlier in the narrative. 238 Mt 28.7[8]: ταχὺ πορευθεῖσαι [ἀπελθοῦσαι ταχὺ] + εἴπατε τοῖς μαθηταῖς αὐτοῦ [ἀπαγγεῖλαι τοῖς μαθηταῖς αὐτοῦ]. Davies and Allison (1988–1997: 3:668) note the use of ταχύ in this regard. 239 The story sets the expectation that the women will see the tomb (Mt 28.1). And responses in miracle stories until now have had the element of seeing frequently enough. These considerations further support the notion that the absence of reference to the women’s seeing the resting place of Jesus’ body might be indicative of it not happening. 240 Powell (2009: 75) places too much emphasis on the “potential for negative results” regarding joy, citing Mt 13.20–21. In all other occurrences when joy is described (i.e. not simply the greeting χαῖρε / χαίρετε), it is positively portrayed (2.10; 5.12; 13.44; 18.13; 25.21, 23). Note furthermore Jesus’ greeting hereafter (28.9). 237

254

Chapter 3: Matthew

XXVIII. Matthew 28.9b–c Once again established followers of Jesus experience an epiphany of him, evidently in private (28.9–10). Hearers/readers may well sense that when Jesus appears, his word χαίρετε (28.9), though a typical greeting, implies more. Rather than a response of joy to this epiphany, however, the women’s response is described entirely in physical terms (three elements: movement, bodily motion, falling) (28.9b–c): αἱ δὲ προσελθοῦσαι ἐκράτησαν αὐτοῦ τοὺς πόδας καὶ προσεκύνησαν αὐτῷ. They have not fallen on their faces, let alone fallen as though dead. Rather they have prostrated themselves, clutching Jesus’ feet. This act recalls the prostration of the magi in one of the opening stories, also the disciples’ response to the epiphany in chapter 14. Here however, no gifts are available to give and no words are spoken. Rather the simple and graphic act of grabbing his feet bespeaks a sense of total surrender and acceptance of their Lord’s power and role as representative of God, a theme that will presently appear in Jesus’ concluding words to the narrative (28.20). It is possible that here the act of proskynesis indicates worship. It would seem that their fear has lessened, too, though perhaps not disappeared (cf. 28.10). Jesus’ reply to their gesture, in word choice and content similar to the angel’s speech, seeks to calm/prevent their fear and sends them again to the disciples. The repetition raises the expectation for and certainty of the momentous encounter between Jesus and those disciples who abandoned him. 241 Will he be as compassionate on them as he has been repeatedly to the crowds? There can be little doubt. 242 The narrator foregoes the opportunity to describe any further response from the women, choosing instead to mention their departure, briefly, as a point of departure in the ensuing episode (28.11: πορευομένων δὲ αὐτῶν...). It is to be assumed that they continue on their way with the same goal of reporting in view. Are they still filled with joy or fear or both? This is no longer of paramount importance. Their act of prostration before Jesus’ feet and the resonances that act has in the wider narrative are the central image of the women that the narrator leaves with the hearers/readers. In place of a further response, the present episode reaches both its highpoint and conclusion in Jesus’ reassuring words. Jesus is incomplete control, despite all appearances. God’s plan is succeeding triumphantly. 241 Similarly, Anderson (1994: 171). Jesus’ speech, a development (τότε) and the episode’s peak (highlighted through heavy encoding of Jesus), also points beyond the episode (HP: λέγει) (cf. Levinsohn 2000: 199–200). 242 “...Jesus’s desire for the disciples to be recovered – and, indeed, his reference to them as ‘my brothers’ (28:10; cf. 12:46–50) – conveys a strong sense of his faithfulness to these errant disciples in a way that contrasts sharply with their faithlessness to him (Powell 2009: 74).

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

255

XXIX. Intervening material The troop of soldiers’ interactions with the chief priests and the elders (Mt 28.11–15) reveals that the guards’ recent response, seemingly involuntary, to the appearance of the angel was not to produce good fruit. The whole scene is akin to a response. 243 While the two women named Mary left the tomb only to encounter Jesus, the soldiers left it to meet with his adversaries, those responsible for his death. Likewise, as the women, it is implied, will bring a report of the resurrection to the disciples, the soldiers bring a report to Jesus’ opponents. 244 The religious leaders convince these soldiers by means of bribery to spread a false rumour. This is a surprise. Nowhere in the narrative until now, just at its close, has an epiphany been so unsuccessful in procuring from its recipients a reaction that is in line with the values of the narrator. The episode’s closing line inverts a motif borrowed from responses in miracle stories: a false report gets spread around. 245 Bringing the conflict with the religious authorities to an unpredicted dénouement, the episode “reveals that the forces of evil are both unconscionable and powerful” (Powell 2009: 79). Within the future of the narrative world (“to this day”: Mt 28.15), too, it is indicated that the recalcitrant religious leaders succeed in their “evil obstinacy” (Powell 2009: 78), continuing to turn the people against Jesus and his disciples. XXX. Matthew 28.17 When the 11 disciples meet the risen Jesus in the Galilee (28.16–20), seemingly in private, their arrival is conveyed in terms that bespeak obedience. 246 Their brief response is the story’s second and third sentences (28.17): καὶ ἰδόντες αὐτὸν προσεκύνησαν, οἱ δὲ ἐδίστασαν. The element of seeing, focused on Jesus, recalls responses in earlier private epiphanies (14.26; 17.8; cf. 8.34). The act of prostration has been key for the portrayal of some positive posturing toward Jesus, whether in petitions (8.2; 9.18; 15.25; cf. 20.20) or, more potently, in responses in epiphany stories (14.33; 28.9b–c; cf. 4.9–10), 243 If Mt 28.11–15 appeared in Jn, one would be justified in analysing it in its entirety as a response. But in the present gospel it does not seem advisable to view such a long, complicated series of interactions as a response. 244 Powell (2009: 78) notes this parallel and the fact that both the soldiers and the disciples are commissioned to spread what they have been taught (Mt 28.15, 20). On the other hand, the soldiers’ act is like reporting (see below). 245 καὶ διεφημίσθη ὁ λόγος οὗτος παρὰ Ἰουδαίοις μέχρι τῆς σήμερον [ἡμέρας] (Mt 28.15b). 246 They go to the mountain in the Galilee, just as Jesus instructed (Mt 28.16). The obedience recalls not only Joseph’s obedience in the opening episodes (esp. 1.24) but also the disciples’ earlier obedience (esp. 21.6; 26.19).

256

Chapter 3: Matthew

as well as already in the narrative’s opening scenes (2.2, 11). Worship of Jesus may, as with the women’s recent response, be implied. 247 Still, a number of things are peculiar in the present response. First, Jesus’ appearance is narrated, as it were, within the response. Second, the 11 are uncharacteristically split into two groups. 248 Third, both a favourable action, prostration (the larger group), and an unfavourable one (the smaller one) occur. The latter, disbelief or hesitation, appears here for the first time within responses. Why do some disciples doubt? No answer is given. But the portrayal of ambiguity, despite a larger portion of positive traits, has not been foreign in previous characterisation of the disciples, especially with respect to their “little faith.” 249 As in the previous epiphanic episode, Jesus’ concluding speech is the moment of greatest interest. Here it is also the majority of the story and the close of the overall narrative: Jesus’ command to make disciples of the nations. His vision recalls the prominent figures in miracle stories who have been not only receptive to him but full of faith. 250 There is hope that, in the envisioned future of the story world, there will be great success, even if the disciples, like their master, must also expect to face severe opposition, even violence, from within and without the group. Just as Jesus, in speaking to the two Marys, characterised the disciples in terms they did not deserve, here too in his commissioning he expresses a moving, unwarranted, loyalty to and trust in them. 251 The presence of doubt in their midst, though it surprisingly and inappropriately lingers after all they have been taught and have seen, will evidently not hinder the greater power remaining among them, at work in them, the power of Immanuel, “God with us,” who remains with the disciples until the age’s end. God’s plan has and will succeed.

R. Synoptic Problem: Comparison of Matthew and Mark In this section, I begin to step beyond narrative-critical and linguistic analysis, turning my attention to the interrelations of the Gospels, specifically here to the relation between Matthew and Mark. The conventional solution to the Synoptic Problem – that is the problem of the network of various literary agreements and disagreements between Matthew, Mark and Luke and the 247

So Kingsbury (1986: 118). In Mt 28.17 the articular pronoun denotes a sub-group (BDAG: ὁ, ἡ, τό, definition 1.b.). So Davies and Allison (1988–1997; 3:681–682). See further, above, pp. 162–163, n. 526. 249 Mt. 8.26; 14.31; 16.8; 17.20. Note the collocation of ὁλιγόπιστος and διστάναι in Jesus’ rebuke of Peter (14.31). See, similarly, Kingsbury (1986: 16). 250 Poplutz 2013: 466. 251 Similarly, see Powell (2009: 80). 248

Synoptic Problem: Comparison of Matthew and Mark

257

resultant necessity to posit some form of literary dependence – is the Two Document Hypothesis (hereafter 2DH). The hypothesis posits that two sources, independent of each other, namely Mark and the hypothetical document Q, were each used by both Matthew and Luke, who wrote without knowledge of one another. Of the two most well-known rival hypotheses only one disagrees with the 2DH on the issue of Mark’s chronological relation to Matthew. The Two Gospel Hypothesis (2GH) rejects Markan priority. 252 It argues, instead, that Matthew was written first and was used as a source by Luke. Mark, writing last, used both Matthew and Luke. (No literary sources outside of the Synoptics are posited.) Thus, it is appropriate to focus the question of the respective merits of the 2DH and the 2GH on the possibility of Mark using Matthew or the reverse. A similar approach has been adopted by Duncan Reid (2011), in his preliminary study of the miracle studies in light of the Synoptic Problem. This is the topic I will address here. I leave a discussion of the third hypothesis (the Farrer Hypothesis) until the corresponding section at the end of the next chapter. It should be noted that the principal proponents of both the 2DH and the 2GH do not give much room for oral tradition to play a role in their hypothetical reconstructions of the Synoptics’ source material. I will treat the topic of oral tradition in detail in Chapter Six. A number of the features analysed, shared by Matthew and Mark, do not strongly favour either hypothesis for the direction of literary dependence. In order to tighten the focus of this analysis, therefore, I will offer only a survey of such features, before turning to data that bears a greater significance for my question. First, there are some common features of a general nature. As with Mark, the definitions of response, miracle and miracle story proposed in Chapter One have found support in the analysis of the narrative of Matthew (see further Section S, below, on these claims). Moreover, miracle stories commonly have responses in Matthew (19 of 29 stories) as in Mark (14 of 21). Indeed, the frequency is similar (66% [Mt], 67% [Mk]). In Matthew, like in Mark, two stories of rescue at sea – for various reasons, some shared between the gospels others not (see below) – appear to be epiphany stories as much or more than stories of Jesus’ mighty deeds. In both gospels the epiphany stories, constituting a minority among miracle stories, typically contain responses (9:10 [Mt], 4:5 [Mk]). Stories with multiple responses are commonly (3:4 in Mk) or uniquely (3:3 in Mt) epiphany stories. Second, considered collectively the majority of responses in Matthew align with those in Mark in terms of their constituent components and the frequencies with which they turn up. Matthew contains, with comparable frequencies, the main components found in Mark, with the exception of the cognitive 252

On the 2GH, see especially, McNicol et al. (1996) and Peabody (2002), who present a case, respectively, for Lk’s use of Mt and for Mk’s use of the other two.

258

Chapter 3: Matthew

element – thus, emotional, verbal, seeing, reporting and movement. 253 In addition, Matthew contains five instances of falling, prostration and the like, whereas Mark has only one. Both have just one instance of express antagonism. Some responses in Matthew have elements not found in Mark: hearing (2 instances), unbelief (1), and various bodily motions (5), notably getting up. Matthew has one instance of joy, though the emotion does not occur in Mark. Still, the basic types of emotions are the same, namely amazement and fear / being troubled. They occur with similar frequency and do not or strongly tend not to appear in the same response (in Mt each emotion is found in five responses, respectively; in Mk each emotion is found in six responses, respectively, and one further response contains both emotions). Third, both Matthew (for responses other than those in chs. 1–2) and Mark share some tendencies with regards to collocations and order. Again general trends for the responses, taken in the aggregate, are in view. For example, in both Matthew (7 of 23 responses have the collocation) and Mark (8 of 18) the components most commonly occurring together are emotion and speech – always (Mt) or typically (Mk) in this order – though the collocation occurs relatively more frequently in Mark. The component of movement between locations always (in 5 of 5 responses in Mt) or very commonly (in 5 of 6 responses in Mk) comes initial in a response. Where relevant, (an instance of) the emotional element comes in the initial position with some frequency (in 5 of 10 responses for Mt; in 5 of 12 for Mk). In each gospel, for responses in which there are multiple elements including seeing, this component often comes first in a distinct pair or series (5 times out of 6). Three instances each occur in a parallel context (Mt 8.34b || Mk 5.15b–c; Mt 14.26 || Mk 6.49; Mt 21.20 || Mk 11.20b–21), though the type and order of the elements following seeing are never identical in both gospels. One further instance in Matthew (9.8) and two in Mark (6.50; 16.5b–c) occur also in parallel contexts, though without a counterpart in the other gospel. (The last instance [Mt 28.17a] occurs in a story unique to this gospel.) None of the data in this or the preceding two paragraphs, individually or taken together, would pose a significant challenge to either the 2DH or the 2GH. The same is true for the categorically different phenomena found in chapters one and two of Matthew. The first three miracle stories in Matthew have responses that differ in nature from the remainder of responses in this gospel and in Mark. Some components’ types, their lexemes, order, relative prominence and even inflection are fixed (ἐγερθεὶς [...] παρέλαβεν). Nothing comparable to this is found in Mark. Such fixity, with other components and/or lexemes, is unknown in miracle stories in both Matthew and Mark. The sto253

For reporting there is a notable difference in terms of absolute and, especially, relative frequency: four of 19 responses (Mt) vs. six of 14 (Mk).

Synoptic Problem: Comparison of Matthew and Mark

259

ries themselves are unique among the two gospels: angelophanies that occur during sleep to a character (Joseph) belonging to a generation preceding Jesus’ public ministry. Of the shared features that have greater significance for the Synoptic Problem, the double pattern of settings, characters and miracle types is worthy of special attention. For the adult life of Jesus, in the unfolding of the narrative of Matthew, as in Mark, stories of epiphanies pertaining to Jesus’ adult ministry are meaningfully distinguished from other miracle stories on the basis of responses, with established followers responding in private contexts, usually away from urban centres, and other characters in settings that are characteristically public or become public and commonly in or around cities and towns. (In both gospels, parallelism with miracle stories from the Scriptures, associated with ancient prophets, is present for the three epiphanic episodes in the Galilee.) At the same time, some important differences between the two gospels in relation to the same pattern reveal that the 2GH is inferior to the 2DH. In Mark two additional features aid in making the differentiation between the stories involving epiphany stories and those with only other kinds of miracles. Most notably is the association of amazement with healings and exorcisms, on the one hand, and fear / being troubled with epiphanies, on the other. The use of non-standard forms of focalisation also facilitates the distinction. But in Matthew neither of these features is pertinent. There is just one story with character-focalisation in this gospel. More important is lack of distinction between miracle story types on the basis of emotional responses, though both amazement and fear appear frequently in response to various miracles. The fascinating data require further discussion. With respect to frequency alone, both Matthew and Mark in fact have in common a tendency for fear / being troubled to occur in epiphany stories (5 of 6 instances in Mt; 6 of 9 in Mk) and amazement to appear in other stories (4 of 5 instances in Mt; 5 of 7 in Mk). Interestingly, the two responses that are outliers to the pattern in Matthew (i.e. amazement in a rescue nature miracle story and fear in a healing story) occur in parallel instances where Mark has emotions that fit the observed pattern. These data are represented below in Table 5. Table 5: Outlier responses in Matthew for emotions and miracle story types Healing of the paralytic Stilling of the storm

Matthew fear (9.8) amazement (8.27)

Mark amazement (2.12b) fear (4.41)

At the same time, each of the four outliers to the pattern in Mark (fear alone in two responses in stories of exorcism/healing; amazement alone in a re-

260

Chapter 3: Matthew

sponse in a rescue nature miracle story; amazement alongside fear in a response in an epiphany story) occur where Matthew has a parallel story but does not produce an exception to the pattern, whether because no response exists at all (cf. Mk 5.33), the response contains no emotion (Mt 8.33–34 || Mk 5.14–17; Mt 14.33 || Mk 6.51c–52) or the emotion is fear (and joy) not fear and amazement (Mt 28.8 || Mk 16.8). Furthermore, responses in stories that differ enough as to be conceivably unique 254 to Mark (7.36b–37) and Matthew (15.31) have emotions that fit the pattern. The same is true of a response in a story unique 255 to Matthew (9.33b–34). Instances of emotion that are unique to Matthew (21.20) and Mark (5.20), respectively, in shared response contexts also fit the trend. With only two exceptions to the pattern of emotions and miracle types in Matthew, the pattern is actually more pronounced – strictly in terms of frequency – than in Mark. In Matthew, however, the pattern plays little role in the unfolding of the narrative. This is the result, especially, of the fact that both outliers to the pattern (see above, Section P) are the first two responses to occur! They also constitute two of only three responses among the first series of ten miracle stories that contain emotion. 256 It is not, perhaps, until the transfiguration (17.6) or even the angelophany at the tomb (28.4; 28.8) that fear may come to be associated closer with the epiphanies than with healing and exorcism. 257 Rather, in Matthew, other features assist in holding the private epiphany stories together, notably the response component of falling/prostration, which occurs in five of the six epiphany stories related to Jesus’ adult life. 258 (A more minor way that the pattern in Matthew differs from that in Mark is the instance in which non-followers are respondents in an epiphany story [Mt 28.4].) 254 Some would claim that Mt 15.29–31 and Mk 7.31–37 are versions of the same story. If this is the case, owing to the extremely few agreements of wording or even content, there is no reason to assume literary dependence between the two gospels for this story. 255 The story in Mt 9.32–34 bears many similarities to that in 12.22–45 which has a parallel in Lk (11.14–36) and, in part, in Mk (3.22–30). 256 One may say that the flow of the narrative in Mt actually obscures the pattern of differentiation. 257 Possibly a recurring pattern of constituent order (emotion-speech) in responses also works against the association of rescue nature miracles stories with epiphany stories and for their association with the other miracle stories. 258 Four interrelated features – beyond similarity of characters and settings – bring epiphany stories together in various constellations, with a cumulative effect of bringing all the stories into relation with one another: references to the little faith and/or doubt of Jesus’ disciples (Mt 8.26; 14.31; 28.17); Peter’s stepping out from among the disciples and acting on his own (14.28–31; 17.4); proclamations about Jesus being God’s son (14.33; 17.5 – the proclamations answer a question from 8.27); prostration and falling (14.33; 17.6; 28.9b–c; 28.17). For details, see above, Section Q.

Synoptic Problem: Comparison of Matthew and Mark

261

Another literary feature, not present in Mark, brings complication to the presence of the pattern in Matthew. Jesus’ amazement at the centurion’s faith (Mt 8.10) in a story of healing fits the pattern, when the amazement is taken as a play on the response motif. The problem is Jesus’ amazement is rendered unintelligible as a play on the motif to the hearers/readers because of its location in the narrative. The potential inversion of amazement occurs in a story that precedes every story in which there is a response with an emotion! The foregoing considerations make a strong case for understanding the differences between the two gospels to be a result of Matthew unwittingly preserving a pattern from a source or sources. The evidence thus points towards Matthew’s dependence on Mark. The analysis here, then, provides some considerable hitherto unknown evidence against the 2GH. These data must, of course, be put in their proper place in relation to the remainder of the data bearing on the Synoptic Problem. 259 Still, the 2GH, when compared to the 2DH, has less going for it than against it. At the same time, the analysis offers a challenge to the 2DH, at least as it is conventionally conceived. The challenge comes from two angles. First, the analysis raises the possibility of oral traditions influencing Matthew. For if 259

A strength of the 2GH is the way it comfortably sits with the statements of early Christian writers like Papias and Clement of Alexandria (both preserved by Eusebius). Farmer (1990: 129) writes, the 2GH “…enjoys the support of the historical evidence critically evaluated.” The 2GH also accounts for the Minor Agreements (agreements between Mt and Lk against Mk in the Triple Tradition) better than the 2DH does. For direct literary dependence is the solution: Lk uses Mt. Similarly, the 2GH accounts well for characteristic Matthean phraseology appearing in Lk. The 2GH enjoys concord with the principal of Occam’s razor, for no hypothetical sources are posited. Among the 2GH’s known weaknesses is the fact that at times Lk seems to preserve material that is more primitive and, arguably, earlier than Mt’s version; and Mt’s version seems in places later than Mk’s. There is, naturally enough, debate as to what qualifies as “earlier.” Sometimes the plot of an episode in Mk (and Lk) is superior to that in Mt’s shorter version. (E.g. For the healing of Jairus’ daughter, Mt has the petitioner’s daughter has already died when he comes seeking help from Jesus, whereas the narrative suspense in Mk and Lk is not only greater, but also it seems part and parcel of the miracle complex’s make-up.) The views of Jesus in Mt and Mk are often appealed to in this connection. Pertinent to responses in miracle stories, Peter Head (1997: 90–91) argues that the Twelve’s prostration before Jesus and proclamation of him as the “son of God” in Mt’s version of the walking on water (Mt 14.33) is a development in a trajectory of heightened appreciation of Jesus beyond what is found in Mk (6.51b-52), amazement and a lack of understanding. This is a strong argument. Still, it needs to tempered by the fact that, as the narrative of Mt later reveals (see above, Section Q), the disciples’ response in Mt also demonstrates misunderstanding. To be sure, ideal hearers/readers could identify with the prostration and proclamation of their communities’ apostles. Nevertheless, in a reading of Mt, they would be doing this reading against the grain or, at least, ironically. The hearers/readers have greater understanding at this moment than do the characters in the story.

262

Chapter 3: Matthew

Matthew is unwittingly preserving a pattern pertaining to the correlation between types of responses and types of miracles stemming from an earlier tradition, then it is a tradition upon which Mark also draws. If this earlier tradition is, in part or in whole, an oral tradition, then the way in which the 2DH is traditionally conceived needs alteration, possibly substantial. If the earlier tradition is only literary, then the procedure of Matthean authorredactor becomes improbable, since Matthew would have: (1) reproduced Mark’s pattern (a) in material shared with Mark where Mark did not have it and (b) in material new in Matthew; and (2) actually improved on the pattern found in Mark overall, removing outliers from four contexts found in Mark and creating only two new outliers (both in shared contexts). Q, as commonly envisioned, contains one miracle story with a response. The amazement in the story of exorcism would explain one, probably two instances in Matthew (12.23–24; cf. 9.33b–34). But the other changes to the pattern inherited from Mark (and only Mark) would remain inexplicable. The literary-source solution may already appear less satisfactory than simply positing oral tradition. But there is more. The problem for the 2DH is further complicated by the fact that the only other miracle story in Q, given its conventionally conceived extent, contains a variation on the response motif. In the healing story related to the Capernaum centurion Jesus reacts with amazement to the petitioner’s faith. (While the ironic sense inherent in the amazement is not felt in Matthew, because of the story’s location in the narrative, it is felt in Luke, as the next chapter will demonstrate.) The story in Q presumes a context in which hearers/readers of the story can sense the irony. This observation lends itself comfortably to the possibility that Q, as an oral-derived text, was understood by hearers/readers in light of related oral performances in the Jesus tradition, which provided much inherent meaning. 260 In such a circumambient tradition stories about Jesus’ (and/or others’) miracles may have commonly employed responses, including specific kinds. With responses of amazement occurring commonly in oral performances of the stories, the audience would come to expected the feature, hence the irony in the Capernaum centurion story. Conversely, excluding influence of oral tradition would seem to leave one in a difficult position. A traditional literary context which would provide the expectation of amazement in response to a healing would have to be a strong one. Such a tradition, as noted by Gerd Theissen, has not been identified by comparative study. I will return to this question, as a probative exercise, in Chapter Seven. The other solution is to envision Q as being a larger document, including more than two miracle stories. Since Mark-Q overlaps are already conceded 260

See Chapter Six, below, on theory of oral tradition and social memory undergirding my claims here.

Conclusion

263

on the 2DH, one might look for stories of healing and exorcism occurring in all three Synoptic Gospels with (a) amazement in a response of at least one of the gospels and (b) strong grounds in the story for literary dependence between Matthew and Luke which could be explained by yet another Mark-Q overlap. The healing of the paralytic is a potential candidate. It will be analysed in Chapter Six. Thus, the comparative analysis of responses in Mark and Matthew while helping to rule out one potential solution to the Synoptic Problem, the 2GH, actually creates some difficulties, too, for the most commonly held hypotheses, the 2DH.

S. Conclusion The analysis in this chapter has demonstrated that in Matthew the response motif is employed creatively. The narrator wields it in various ways and for diverse purposes. In order to make this discovery I had to pay attention to how any one instance of the response motif relates not only to aspects of the miracle story at hand but also to other aspects of the narrative as it unfolds. While this point remains the primary result of the analysis, important corollary points have been made. I begin the summary by considering the key definitions. First, this analysis of Matthew, like that of Mark (see Chapter Two, Section R), has confirmed the appropriateness of the definitions set out in Chapter One for miracle, miracle story and response. In applying the term miracle story to Matthew, it behooves one to include not only the episodes of healing, exorcism, miraculous provision of food and so forth, but also stories of the appearance of angels, Jesus’ transfiguration and the post-resurrection appearance of Jesus. Analysis of the presence and nature of descriptions of one or more characters’ response to a miraculous occurrence constitutes an important part of the case for epiphany stories being miracle stories in this gospel. I will return to this point in a moment. As noted in Chapter One, Gerd Theissen’s work represents a key precedent for the approach I have adopted and confirmed in the analysis, though subsequent scholarship has tended not to follow suite and include epiphany stories among miracle stories. The analysis has confirmed also that, due to the fact that the stories of the stilling of the storm and the walking on water are closely connected with epiphanies of Jesus in other contexts and with the appearances of angels, the said two episodes are best understood as epiphany stories. Again, Theissen’s work is a precedent to the argument presented here. In the foregoing analysis, observation of patterns of established followers as respondents and private settings in epiphanic episodes has helped to establish this connection. So, too, has the observation that acts of falling, prostration and related bodily movement

264

Chapter 3: Matthew

toward the ground are, beyond the walking on water episode, distinctive of responses to episodes that are usually categorised distinctly as epiphanies. Various other narrative features further draw the stilling of the storm and the walking on water into a familial relationship with the other epiphany stories – features such as the interconnectedness between the disciples’ question about Jesus’ identity (Mt 8.27), their declaration of Jesus as the Son of God (14.33) and God’s criticism of the evidently faulty understanding behind their declaration (17.8). The frequent presence of responses in Matthew in both epiphany stories and other miracle stories constitutes evidence that the stories should be considered together. The frequency is especially true of epiphany stories: nine of 10 stories have one or more responses. For the most part, too, both of the said types of stories draw on a common body of response elements. The exceptions are the initial three miracle stories, all angelophanies, whose responses have stereotyped phraseology not found in other stories. Otherwise the responses in epiphany stories – i.e. the stilling of the storm, the walking on water, the transfiguration, the angelophany at the tomb and the two stories of Jesus’ appearances after his resurrection – draw on the same basic pool of components that are found in responses in the other miracle stories. Five of the main six components in responses in miracle stories occurring after chapter two are held in common by both types of stories. In order of frequency they are: emotion (in 10 responses), speech (10), visual sensation (7), movement between locations (6), falling and the like (5), reporting (4). The one exception to the rule (falling etc.) is one of the less frequent. Notably, emotions of amazement and fear / being troubled are a key element linking the epiphany stories with the others. At times formal features such as the order of the components, their relative prominence and even lexical forms draw the two types of stories together. An example is the ordered pair of movement and reporting (compare Mt 8.33b, 9.31, 28.8). Another is the frequent use of ἰδόντες as the first element in a distinct series of actions (8.34b, 9.8, 14.26, 21.20, 28.17a). The analysis has proved the definition of response, too, to be justified. While earlier scholarship typically identified up to four kinds of actions of characters in response to a miracle, in the foregoing additional related features have been identified. Noteworthy are movement between locations, visual sensation and a set of actions including falling and prostration. Each of these three elements occur more frequently in Matthew than reporting, one of the four types of responses identified by Theissen. Various formal features of references to visual sensation (its appearance before speech in relevant collocations, its frequent initial location absolutely and the use of ἰδόντες) make the element of particular interest in the present context. Owing to the frequency of the numerous elements, the various combinations in which they occur and the fact that the most common elements are not categorically posi-

Conclusion

265

tive or negative, one is justified in speaking of a single motif, namely the response motif, rather than various discrete motifs. Second, as in the previous analysis of Mark the analysis in this chapter has shown how attention to focalisation through characters can enhance one’s appreciation of how the narrative portrays the characters involved. In the one episode that ventures beyond narrator-focalisation, the transfiguration, the responses of Peter, James and John pay a key role in focalising the narrative through them. Focalisation through the three disciples elicits the sympathy of the hearers/readers for them, as they fail to comprehend the grand vision of Jesus they have experienced. To the best of my knowledge this aspect of the transfiguration in Matthew has not been examined before. Third, in sub-sections of this chapter I have provided the first application of discourse analysis to the responses and, in various respects, to the miracle stories of Matthew. Analysis of the discourse has helped to establish, for example, that emotions do not simply occur frequently in responses but also receive prominence in them. Conversely visual sensation, appearing less commonly, consistently receives less overall prominence. Examination of connectives, high-lighting devices and other features has proved invaluable for identifying the high points of the respective stories and, thus, enabling a better appreciation of how the responses relate to other parts of the stories. Notably, in the majority of stories a response or part of it belongs to or constitutes the relevant episode’s peak. This is an especially important aspect of stories in Mt 8 and 9, where various characters’ appreciation of Jesus get centre stage, being also contrasted with one another. By way of contrast, less prominence is given to responses in the narrative’s final two miracles stories as focus is centred on the reassuring and authoritative speech of the resurrected Jesus. A moderate level of formality in the responses has been identified in part by discourse analysis. In addition to an analysis of the order of appearance of elements and the location of responses within the stories, discourse analysis has helped identify the formality, through observation of recurrent relative priorities of elements and common relations of the responses to episodes’ peaks. Fourth, the analysis of Matthew has given rise to observations that dovetail with those made by Justin Taylor in his examination of levels of narration in the Gospels. Taylor observed that a mythic level is employed in certain miracle stories, namely those epiphanic episodes that occur during Jesus’ ministry in Galilee, while a “romantic” level of narration accompanies stories of Jesus’ miraculous healings and exorcisms. As in Mark, so too in Matthew the nature of the responses fits this distinction. Established followers respond in private settings to epiphanies of Jesus, while other characters respond in public settings to the therapeutic miracles. Furthermore, the three epiphanic episodes, as noted in passing, have parallel stories in the Scriptures, involving the prophets of old. This feature, which further links the said three stories togeth-

266

Chapter 3: Matthew

er, will be considered more fully in Chapter Seven, below. The pattern of alternating between levels of narration in the miracle stories, therefore, is deeply ingrained in the fabric of Matthew’s overall narrative. Fifth and most importantly, the analysis in this chapter has identified various specific ways that Matthew creatively incorporates the miracle stories and with them the response motif in its narrative, furthering the plot and aiding in characterisation. The narrative employs the response motif in a variety of ways to further the main and subsidiary plot lines. Taking the principle movement in the plot to be “the conflict between God and Satan,” (Powell 2009: 70), I observed the distinct role Joseph’s three responses in stories of angelophany at the narrative’s beginning play in establishing both the conflict and an expectation of an eventual positive resolution. Through verbal parallelism and similarity of content between angelic instruction to Joseph and his responses his obedience is underscored. The fact that near identical phraseology appears in each of the three responses adds further to this notion of unwavering submission to God. God’s plan is successfully unfolding despite diabolical, horrifically violent opposition. Such a device – parallelism between command and response – in an epiphany story does not occur again until the narrative’s close, where the command of the Angel of the Lord, who appears again at long last, is obeyed by the women disciples. Alternatively responses in miracle stories during Jesus’ adulthood help create conflict in two interwoven subplot lines: Jesus’ conflicts with his disciples and with the religious leaders. The disciples respond in epiphany stories, where Jesus is often the/a epiphanic character. The religious leaders and other characters respond in stories of healing and exorcism. In the bulk of the narrative – Jesus’ ministry prior to arriving in Jerusalem – an escalating series of three revelations in private contexts with the disciples as respondents is intermingled within a larger body of stories of healings and the like in primarily public contexts in which, when a response occurs, characters other than established followers respond. As the magnitude of Jesus’ power and glory is increasingly revealed, the disciples move from amazement and raising the question of Jesus’ identity (stilling of the storm) through fear and screaming to prostration and a confession that Jesus is the Son of God (walking on water). Their act of reverence and proclamation is then thrown into doubt by Peter’s botched verbal attempt at respecting Jesus alongside Moses and Elijah, followed by Peter, James and John’s fear at the sound of a heavenly voice that chastises them and, then, disappointingly, their silent looking at Jesus (transfiguration). Commands by the Angel of the Lord were followed immediately by a description of Joseph’s obedience in detail. Here, in contrast, the command of God himself, unmediated, to listen to Jesus is followed by a note that the disciples merely look at Jesus. Through the responses of Peter, James and John in the third story, these disciples and their other comrades among the Twelve are characterised as unable to understand the mean-

Conclusion

267

ing of their own earlier confession that Jesus is the Son of God, a confession repeated by the heavenly voice. The three epiphany stories are closely tied in to Peter’s proclamation about Jesus in the vicinity of Caesarea Philippi. Peter’s interactions with Jesus, when discussing his identity and mission with the disciples, also there receive mixed review. Peter receives the keys to the kingdom but is also rebuked as the tool of the Satan. As I noted briefly, all three epiphanic episodes in the Galilee also find parallels in stories from the Scriptures – stories involving Jonah, Elijah and Moses. I will return to this point, giving it greater attention, in Chapter Seven. The tension that results in the series of three epiphany stories and related episodes is further exacerbated as the narrative approaches the climax, Jesus’ death on the cross. Ironically, tension in this subplot line serves to bring about resolution in the main plot line, as Jesus’ death brings about God’s defeat of the Satan. Conflict with the disciples is resolved only in the larger narrative’s dénouement. Following the introduction of Jesus’ ministry with a lengthy teaching block, a series of ten miracle stories follows. Responses, which occur in many of them, join in with a host of other features in the stories to portray various characters’ reactions to Jesus. As the first two or three stories do not portray characters responding, the presence or absence of responses does not come across as crucial for characterisation or development of conflict. Where they do occur, the responses show, for example, how some reject him (a group of Gentiles), others disobey him (two men healed from blindness) and the crowds are impressed by him, while yet not completely appreciating him as they ought. Through a feature related to responses – Jesus’ amazement at and commendation of the Capernaum centurion’s faith – this petitioner is singled out as the principle positive example. The oppositional words of the Pharisees in response to an exorcism, on the other hand, who are the last characters to respond in the final, culminating story, establish themselves as the negative example par excellence. In three of the four healing/exorcism stories with responses that remain, the crowds and/or the Pharisees are the respondents. The Pharisees’ negative stance towards Jesus escalates in the first of these miracle stories, through a response, as they take counsel to destroy him. Characteristic of the crowds’ response is amazement, also seen in the response to the final miracle story in the series of ten. In the final story in which they are respondents, the crowds praise God for the many and varied healings they see. But contrast between this response and that of the disciples in the boat in a miracle story located in close proximity, who prostrate themselves and proclaim Jesus to be the Son of God suggests that the praise, while not ill-placed, is insufficient. Closing the period of Jesus’ teaching and miracle ministry, outside Jerusalem, is the response of two men healed of blindness. Their following Jesus recalls both the disciples’ obedient reaction to Jesus’ original call and the disobedient response of the earlier pair of similarly healed suppliants.

268

Chapter 3: Matthew

Jesus’ crucifixion, where implicitly God defeats the Satan, is marked by cataclysmic, miraculous events, again ironically, and prominently accompanied by a response-like motif. The executioner becomes afraid and proclaims Jesus to be the Son of God. After the crucifixion miracle stories return in full force. Through the three epiphany stories and the responses of various followers, the conflict between Jesus and them is brought to resolution. The women followers not only obey the Angel of the Lord’s command, like Joseph at the beginning, but also prostrate themselves before Jesus in a subsequent encounter. The act recalls the position of reverence the magi adopted before Jesus. In another encounter with Jesus the Twelve, too, prostrate themselves before him. Implicitly their prostration now, at the end, mends the rift stemming from their earlier act in the boat, accompanied by misunderstanding of Jesus. Neither the Twelve nor the women followers speak to Jesus as they bow before him. This time commentary about Jesus is made by Jesus himself. Jesus will mystically remain ever with his disciples. Yet some doubt. Jesus’ concluding words, however, assure that God will ensure his plan is successfully carried out through the disciples, just as Jesus with compassion and faithfulness has restored them, despite their foibles, and now commissioned them for the great task of making disciples of all people groups. Three epiphanies at the opening of the narrative are mirrored by three at the end. Joseph’s obedience to angelic command, essential to the first three, has no counterpart in the closing story. Obedience to Jesus’ commissioning of the Twelve is left to the future of the story world. Characterisation, too, is a function of the employment of responses. Subtlety and context can play a large part in whether a response is to be understood positively or negatively. The quality of the response does not rest primarily on the components found in it. Responses that are similar in content and even wording can draw different pictures. For example, of two responses in adjacent stories in which reporting of a miracle occurs one response is benign or positive (9.26), another inappropriate (9.31). In another story, the component of reporting (28.8), correlating to an angelic command, undoubtedly helps portray the respondents in a good light. Components that may seem inherently positive are at times given a spin that presents the actions as lacking in some respect. Notably, by following the larger narrative, hearers/readers discern in retrospect that the disciples lacked understanding in the walking on water episode at the very moment that their actions either resembled those of earlier, positively portrayed characters (prostration before Jesus, like the magi performed) or seemed otherwise to appear worthy (a proclamation that Jesus is the Son of God). The appearance of praise in a response, too, is no guarantee that the respondents are without mixed portrayal. In one instance the reason for the crowds’ praise of God (9.8) is contrasted with Jesus’ earlier statement about his authority as the Son of Humanity and, thereby, deemed insufficient, the result of misunderstanding. In the other the

Conclusion

269

adequacy of the crowds’ praise (15.31) is put into doubt on account of comparison with an impressive response by the Twelve in a nearby context. The observations made in this paragraph about characters’ speech deserve underscoring. The function of characters’ verbal utterances following miracles – what earlier form-criticism deemed to be acclamation – has turned out to be varied and sophisticated in Matthew. It is not a strictly positive feature. In the same way, similar responses can play different roles in the development of conflict in the narrative. Two similar responses, each having the same ordered set of respondents and very similar content – crowds: amazement and speech; the Pharisees: (hearing and) speech, involving a functionally equivalent accusation – are used for different purposes. The first (9.33b– 34), the high point in the series of ten miracle stories, establishes the Pharisees as the antagonistic respondents to Jesus’ miracles, at the same time contrasting them with the curious and impressed crowds. The series of miracles opening Jesus’ ministry leads to conflict. The second (12.23–24), following a greater expression of opposition by the Pharisees (12.14), provides an opportunity in the narrative for Jesus to reply to the accusation levelled at him earlier. He replies at length. Placing Jesus’ reply here, not earlier, allows for the opening series of miracles to end in the Pharisees’ expression of antagonism, not Jesus’ defence of himself. Characterisation of Jesus – a classic concern of form-critical study of the responses in miracle stories – still proves to be a function of many responses. This may be true in any given case, even when the response serves equally or more the portrayal of other characters or the development of plot lines. For example, the disciples’ prostration and proclamation about Jesus in the boat, following his walking on water, serve in part to help cast Jesus’ actions are remarkable and portray Jesus as worthy of admiration. The irony is that only the ideal hearers/readers understand the full implication of his actions for his identity. Only they can approve of the disciples’ response and move beyond it to adoration of Jesus that involves true comprehension. Sixth and finally, in the concluding section of the chapter, I compared the responses in Matthew and Mark for the purposes of addressing the Synoptic Problem. To the best of my knowledge this is the first detailed analysis of miracle stories, specifically, dedicated to solving the problem of the interrelations of the Synoptics. The comparison of Matthew and Mark showed both impressive similarities and some important differences between the two. In both gospels the most frequently appearing components in responses are largely the same: emotional, verbal, seeing, movement, reporting. Mark has, in addition, a common cognitive element not present in Matthew; in Matthew falling and similar posturing towards the ground are common, unlike in Mark. The most interesting feature held in common between the two gospels is a pattern with respect to emotions and types of stories – fear / being troubled in epiphany stories and amazement in other miracle stories. Settings (private vs.

270

Chapter 3: Matthew

public, respectively; far vs. close to urban settings) and characters (established followers vs. other characters) helps solidify the distinction between the two types of stories and responses. Curiously, though the pattern is integral to the Markan narrative, it does not play a significant role in the unfolding of the narrative in Matthew. The evidence suggests that, assuming direct literary dependence between the two gospels, Matthew is dependent on Mark. Analysis of this body of evidence, therefore, speaks against the Two Gospel Hypothesis, which posits Matthean priority, and for the commonly accepted Two Document Hypothesis. In summary, the examination of the responses in Matthew leads to the conclusion that their nature and function in the narrative occupies a space somewhere between artistry and inherited tradition.

Chapter 4

Luke In the previous two chapters my analysis of the response motif in the miracle stories of the Gospel of Mark and the Gospel of Matthew has shown that variation and even artistry are among the hallmarks of the motif’s employment in the respective narratives. In both gospels, the motif, far from being simply a means of offering a veritable round of applause for Jesus, is used in a variety of ways, both to portray various characters in a positive or negative light and to shape the plot of not only the specific story at hand but also the greater narrative. Specific elements in responses – even praise – can be used for diverse purposes. The question remains as to whether the same creativity in the use of responses is evident in Luke and, if so, to what extent. Is the response motif employed in Luke primarily to proclaim the praises of Jesus and the God he represents? In the case of Luke one might well expect that the use of responses would line up with the traditional form-critical understanding, namely that the responses serve to portray Jesus positively and thus arouse admiration for and belief in him among the hearers/readers of the Gospel of Luke. A number of responses to miracles have praise in this gospel, as many interpreters, both redaction critics and narrative critics, point out. Paul Achtemeier, for example, in his redaction-critical analysis claims that the typical conclusion in a Lukan story of a miracle performed by Jesus is giving glory to God and, thereby, acknowledging the source of Jesus’ power. Such praise validates Jesus. Similarly Kindalee Pfremmer de Long’s (2009) narrative-critical study of “praise responses” in both miracle stories and other contexts throughout the greater narrative of Luke and Acts argues that praise indicates that characters recognise that events, no matter how surprising, constitute the fulfilment of the restoration foretold by Israel’s prophets. Miracles Jesus performs as well as epiphanies of Jesus or angels, whose appearance is also in relation to the protagonist, inspire the praise. Thus praise of God consistently orbits around Jesus, bringing validation to him, his words and his deeds. On the other hand, the case for praise being a typical feature of responses in Luke has been overstated. Relatively speaking praise is not common – only eight of 35 responses contain praise, while merely three have joy. Furthermore, as I have demonstrated in the chapter on Matthew, the presence of praise in a response does not guarantee that the said response is used exclu-

272

Chapter 4: Luke

sively or even primarily to portray Jesus positively. Indeed, there are reasons for which one might well expect that in Luke the response motif is employed artfully. Luke, the longest gospel, contains the most miracle stories. They span a longer period of narrated time, beginning with angelophanies around the births of John the Baptiser and Jesus and concluding with Jesus’ ascension to heaven. Also unique are Luke’s collections of lengthy epiphany stories, integral to the overall plot, at the narrative’s opening and ending. One might expect that the types of miracle stories relate to one another in ways unique to Luke, since this gospel has, for example, only two epiphanic episodes during Jesus’ Galilean ministry (not three, as in Matthew and Mark). Significantly, the most miracle stories with responses are in this gospel. Only a careful investigation of the relation that each instance of the response motif has with other elements of the story at hand and the response’s role within the larger narrative can answer the question of where and to what extent the narrator employs the motif for exalting Jesus, in addition to whatever other purposes there may be. To analyse how responses affect the unfolding of the narrative I will again utilise literary and linguistic approaches. At the same time I collect data throughout the sections of the chapter for comparison of Luke with the other gospels, for the purpose of shedding light on the interrelations of the Gospels. I engage in such comparative study, first, in the final section of analysis in the present chapter, while considering the Synoptic Problem, particularly potential lines of literary dependence, given Markan priority. Fuller comparison between Luke and the rest of the Synoptic Gospels, as well as John, is provided in Chapter Six.

A. State of the Question Narrative critical study of the Gospel of Luke has not been prolific. This seems due in part to the uniqueness of Luke among the Gospels, given its special relation to Acts. Many see Luke as the first volume of a two-part work, with Acts being the second volume. 1 Few of these scholars engage in an analysis of the narrative of Luke on its own. 2 Undertaking a narrative critical analysis of both Luke and Acts, on the other hand, is a daunting task –

1 On Lk and Acts as one composition see, e.g., the many contributions to the volume edited by Verheyden (1999) on the unity of “Luke-Acts.” 2 Some conceptions of the plot of “Luke-Acts” do not allow for analysis of Lk on its own (cf., e.g., below, n. 22). For the present purposes it is not crucial to decide whether Lk is an independent work or part of a larger work. To my mind the story of Lk is complete without Acts, though the latter continues the storyline (cf. Parsons and Pervo 1993).

State of the Question

273

the two books comprise one quarter of the entire New Testament. Not surprisingly, there are few narrative critics who have cast their nets that wide. 3 No detailed literary study, to the best of my knowledge, has been dedicated to the Lukan miracle stories. Again, contributions to the first volume of Kompendium der frühchristlichen Wundererzählungen (KFW1) provide literary and linguistic analyses of a number of these stories, inasmuch as “miracle story” is taken by these scholars to mean stories of Jesus’ mighty deeds. 4 I have found various observations made by contributors to the volume concerning the role responses have in individual episodes insightful and I will take these up in turn in the analysis to follow. The introductory essay to the Lukan miracle stories by Ruben Zimmerman (2013a) provides observations as to how some episodes fit into the wider narrative. Zimmerman notes how a text from Isaiah predicting healing is taken up by Jesus in the inaugural speech of his ministry, in the synagogue of Nazareth, just as a similar Isaianic prophecy is later invoked in Jesus’ reply to John the Baptiser’s inquiry as to whether Jesus really is “the coming one.” Jesus’ work of healing and exorcism is framed, therefore, at the outset of his adult life as both the fulfilment of scripture and integral to the narrative. Reference in Jesus’ inaugural speech also to Elijah and Elisha’s healing activities strengthens the expectation. Zimmermann also observes, for example, how two later episodes – about the resurrection of a widow’s deceased only son and a healing associated with the centurion of Capernaum, a Gentile official – also harken back to Jesus’ opening speech in Nazareth. 5 Still, Zimmermann’s brief analysis is primarily redaction-critical. And he provides no focused discussion of the Lukan responses, neither those of praise and joy nor the others. Indeed, what is completely lacking in scholarship is a literary study of how the responses in these stories – alongside other aspects of the stories – fit into the larger unfolding narrative of Luke. Before considering a few studies that give focused attention to some of the responses in Lukan miracle stories, I first turn to the plot. Discussion of various scholars’ conceptions of the plot will be lengthy, for reasons that will soon become apparent. Among the few who permit a study of the narrative of Luke on its own, most conceptions of the plot can be divided into two groups: conflict with the religious authorities, with the climax at Jesus’ crucifixion (Kingsbury; Pe-

3 Robert Tannehill (1986–1989) is notable for his literary study of both books, as a single continuous narrative. 4 Contributions to KFW1 analyse 14 of the 20 Lukan episodes they deem to be miracle stories. 5 In a brief comment, Zimmermann (2013a: 520) also shows appreciation of the fact that the first story of a miracle performed by Jesus, in Capernaum, occurs directly after and in close relationship to the episode containing Jesus’ opening speech in Nazareth.

274

Chapter 4: Luke

tersen); 6 the fulfillment of the redemptive/salvific purpose of God, with the climax being the resurrected Jesus’ instruction to his disciples (Green; Culpepper). 7 Robert C. Tannehill’s vision of the plot of “Luke-Acts” as “God’s comprehensive saving purpose as it encounters human resistance” (1986– 1989: 1:44) seems to straddle both options. Tannehill’s analysis of Luke on its own suggests the gospel’s plot is similar to that of “Luke-Acts,” though there is less focus on the “comprehensive” aspect. 8 The envisioned plot is inextricably linked to the promise/fulfillment device used throughout the narrative and in a concentrated way at the beginning. The hopeful “previews of salvation” (Tannehill 1986–1989: 1:15) announced by Gabriel, Mary, Zechariah and Simeon receive a sobering hue through Simeon’s private words to Mary. Jesus will be resisted and cause “the rising and falling of many in Israel” (Lk 2.34). A violent fate for Jesus is also foreseen – truly a strange plan of God. The predicted conflict, extending even to Jesus’ disciples, does not find its resolution in Jesus’ execution and resurrection: “Changing the disciples’ perceptions involves a rather lengthy process which covers the whole of Luke 24” (Tannehill 1986–1989: 1:278). Through a series of appearances and despite continued resistance, Jesus opens the disciples’ eyes to recognise him and their minds to understand the scriptural prophecies about him. The culmination of this process turns the disciples into

6 For Kingsbury the plot is “conflict between Jesus and Israel, made up of the religious authorities and the people” (1991: 71) and “reaches its culmination” in “the episode of Jesus on the cross” (1994: 377). Conflict with the disciples, next in importance for the plot, finds resolution in Lk 24 (Kingsbury 1991: 21, 35, 136–137). In the vision of Petersen (1978: 85), for whom the “principal plot device” is “repeated confrontation and rejection,” the plot consists of “confrontation between an accredited agent of God and the people of God in their sanctuaries (synagogues and temple), with the confrontation climaxing in the legal rejection of [Jesus] by the official representatives of the people of God....” 7 For Green (1997: 10, 832), while the main plot line, “the redemptive purpose of God for all people,” culminates in Acts, Lk 24 “narrates the climax of the Third Gospel.” The disciples’ “enlightenment is possibly [sic; read: “possible”] only in light of the resurrection of the crucified one (ch. 24)” (Green 1997: 397). Though Culpepper (2000: 21) does not address plot per se, he notes that “many of the themes” in Lk “could be subsumed under the rubric of the fulfillment of God’s redemptive purposes.” He sees 24.44–49 serving “to bring closure by recapping major themes of the Gospel,” of which the “fulfillment of Scripture,” notably “all” the things written about Jesus, is key (Culpepper 2000: 486). 8 While Tannehill (1996: 28) states, “We can ask about an overall plot in Luke...,” to the best of my knowledge, his commentary does not provides a precise statement of it. Still, interpreting Simeon’s words, he offers a statement similar to that in his earlier work on Luke-Acts (quoted above): “The audience can now anticipate that the story concerns God’s comprehensive saving purpose as it encounters human resistance” (Tannehill 1996: 73). His analysis of the narrative of Lk, however, de facto puts most emphasis on the disciples’ difficulty in understanding God’s saving purpose.

State of the Question

275

Jesus’ witnesses (Tannehill 1986–1989: 1:294). Tannehill’s analysis of the plot will be adopted here, with some minor modifications. 9 Tannehill’s articulation of the plot can be complemented by Mikeal C. Parsons’ analysis of how the motif of promise and fulfillment is sewn into the fabric of the gospel’s narrative. Parsons’ analysis deserves consideration at length, partly because it requires some modification, but also and more importantly on account of its particular contribution to the understanding of the overall plot. This contribution has special significance for the present analysis, owing to the role that various responses in epiphany stories in Lk 24 play in bringing about the gospel’s high point. Central to Parsons’ analysis is the distinction between narrative prolepses and analepses and the observation that the former occur often prior to Jesus’ passion, while, in contrast, the latter appear commonly afterwards. The narrator’s use of the motif of promise and fulfillment helps to identify the climax of the narrative among the analepses. 10 The climax of the narrative is nowhere precisely predicted. 11 But it is closely related to the said motif: the moment in which Jesus successfully gets through to his followers in explaining that important earlier points in the narrative were indeed the fulfillment of scripture. The disciples’ faulty attempts at understanding – that is their responses to the epiphanies in Lk 24 – are finally overcome by Jesus’ own act of opening their minds (Lk 24.45–59). To understand the use of analepses and prolepses, Parsons seeks to differentiate between four different ways that promises are articulated in the narra9 For example, Tannehill (1986–1989: 1:44) posits that from Simeon’s statement onward “[i]t remains to be seen whether and how God’s saving purpose can be realized in the face of human resistance.” Yet the text admits of no real question as to “whether,” only “how.” The preface states confidently that the account written concerns “the things that have been fulfilled” (τῶν πεπληροφορημένων... πραγμάτων: 1.2). Similarly, see Parsons (1987: 91). 10 To my mind this is the best of two readings of Parsons’ work. Parsons (1987: 80, 93), calling 24.50–53 “the dénouement,” seems to see the narrative’s climax primarily as Jesus’ teaching in Lk 24.44–49: “A major tension in the plot is resolved when the disciples finally understand this [i.e. that the events of the passion were necessary] through the teaching of the risen Christ. The turning point comes when Jesus announces their mission in 24.47– 49.” The first one, possibly two, of the “three major plot devices or strategies” Parsons (1987: 77, 80) identifies – “conflict,” “prophecy and fulfillment” and the “journey motif” – coincide at this key point. However, elsewhere Parsons (1987: 87) seems (inexplicably) to allow for the irreconcilable view that “the references to the fulfillment of scripture are to the high points of the Gospel plot.” In such a scenario the prolepses in the majority of the book and the analepses at the end would designate Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection as the high points, perhaps with one of them receiving greater focus than the other. 11 The key prophecy by Simeon (Lk 2.34), which I mentioned above, envisages both the falling and rising of many. The latter does not occur until the final chapter.

276

Chapter 4: Luke

tive: citations from or reference to scripture, speech of “heavenly beings,” speech of “living prophets” and comments from the narrator. Parsons finds that, for scriptural fulfilment, prolepses occur up until Jesus’ passion. The only three analepses occur in Luke 24, along with one prolepsis. It should be noted that while specific passages of scripture are cited, the Scriptures are often invoked en masse. “Interesting also is the fact that, with few exceptions, the references to the fulfillment of scripture are to the high points of the Gospel plot” (Parsons 1987: 87). 12 Of these, Jesus’ death and resurrection receive focus. 13 Parsons’ (1987: 87) examination of “prophecies credited to heavenly beings” reveals a pattern similar to the one found for scriptural fulfilment. Prior to the crucifixion are prolepses; afterwords is an important analepsis. (A prolepsis through the mouth of Jesus, now a heavenly being in Luke 24 by Parsons’ analysis, also occurs in that chapter.) Parsons claims that all instances of reference to “prophecy of a living prophet,” that is a prophet that is a character in the narrative, are proleptic in nature. He then suggests “that predictions by prophets serve functions other than providing textural closure to the Gospel, that is, to establish reliability on the part of the chief protagonist and the narrator” (Parsons 1987: 89). In narrator contrast the “[o]nly two significant internal prolepses... found in the commentary of the to the narratee” (Lk 9.31, 51), involving the “exodus and journey motifs,” refer to the final sentences of the narrative and thereby help to bring about “closure” (Parsons 1987: 90). Parsons’ analysis has much to commend it. I offer here a few constructive comments in an effort to hone the examination of the data. The categories Parsons uses could benefit from greater precision. The angels’ words in Luke 24.6–7 are not a prophecy. Rather they are a reminder of at least two predictions that Jesus made (9.22, 44 – possibly also 18.31–33). It would be more accurate, therefore, to label the relevant category “reference to promise and fulfillment in the speech of heavenly beings.” Likewise the category “prophecy of a living prophet” might be better termed “reference to promise and fulfillment in the speech of (prophesying) human characters.” Saying “human 12 Parsons (1987: 87) cites Maddox (1982: 142) with affirmation: “The only specific events seen as fulfillment are the high points of the story: Jesus’ mission, death, resurrection and ascension....” I omit references to Acts in the citation, as just Lk is relevant in the present context. On the greater relevance of Jesus’ death and resurrection, see immediately below. I will make one important further caveat regarding Maddox’s claim below. On Parsons’ calling these events the “high points” of the plot, see above, n. 10. 13 Parsons (1987: 85–86) table seven, “Fulfillment of Scripture,” does not properly represent the fact that five of nine texts he lists from Lk find their fulfillment in Jesus’ suffering, death and resurrection: i.e. all three analepses (24.26, 44, 46) and two of five prolepses antecedent to the passion (18.31[–33]; 22.37). A different subject is found in each of the remaining prolepses (3.4–6; 4.18–19; 21.22; 24.47).

State of the Question

277

characters” allows for retaining Jesus’ speech before and after his resurrection in the same category. 14 The foregoing brings to attention the fact that in a number of instances the nature of the reference to a promise-fulfillment scheme blurs the boundaries of the categories. Notably eight of nine instances Parsons records for citations from the Scriptures pertain to Jesus’ speech, whether predicting events (18.31–33; 21.22; 22.37; 24.47) or explaining how they fulfill prophecy (4.18–19; 24.25–26, 44, 46). The remaining instance is the one time the narrator does not speak through a character (3.4–6). The situation is even more complex. From the reference in 18.31–33 to the upcoming suffering and resurrection from the dead of the Son of Humanity as being a fulfillment of scripture (cf. 24.25–26, 44–46) it follows that the preceding predictions by Jesus to these events are also to be understood in relation to scriptural fulfillment (9.22, 44; cf. 24.7). 15 Again the pair of angels’ speak (24.6–7) about the fulfillment of Jesus’ predictions (which in turn involve scriptural prophecy). In light of this situation, it seems advisable to allow instances to be included in more than one category, where relevant. The exception would be the category of comments from the narrator (that do not invoke the Scriptures or recall speech of other characters). Still, Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem is at the outset cast in terms of promise and fulfillment, having as its final goal his departure (ἔξοδος [9.31]; ἀνάλημψις [9.51]) there. And this motif involves various promise-fulfillment categories (scripture; human characters; the narrator in other contexts). When such distinctions are made one sees with respect to human characters, in the data considered by Parsons, the same pattern of prolepses prior to the passion and analepses, with one exception (24.47), after it. Thus promise and fulfillment in the mouths of human characters does, in fact, help to bring the plot to its resolution. Moreover, in consideration of the plot one might, as does Tannehill, give special attention to the chorus of voices in “previews of salvation” in Luke 1–2, which include not just angelic characters, but humans also. 16 Simeon’s prophecies, in particular, are crucial for plot development. 17 Likewise, the interpretative speeches in chapter 24 play a key role in the plot. Finally, for some categories the field of data could profitably be broadened. There are more prophecies by human characters than Parsons accounts

14 What is more, reference to Jesus as a “prophet” would seem inadequate by the standards of the narrative. See below, Section Q. 15 Note, especially, the repeated reference to the “third day” in Lk 9.22; 18.33; 24.7, 21, 46. 16 Perhaps also Jesus’ speech in Luke 4 plays an important role for plot development. 17 See, e.g., Tannehill (1986–1989: 1:44), discussed above, and de Long (2009: 133), discussed below.

278

Chapter 4: Luke

for. 18 Regarding scriptural fulfillment, Parsons limits the data to explicit citations. But important instances of allusions and more subtle utilisations of scriptural texts occur. 19 As one of the more clear examples, Jesus refers again to an Isaianic prophecy when inquirers are sent from John the Baptiser (Lk 7.22; cf. 4.18–19). Beyond the two internal prolepses provided by the narrator that Parsons addresses, there are a host of implicit analepses. These come often as indications that a certain, destined time is taking place. Implicitly God through the Scriptures or some other means – at a time in the narrative world external and prior to the narrative – has promised that a given event should occur. 20 I add here, as a reflection stemming from the foregoing discussion, that in an important way the main plot line lines up with the explicitly stated purpose of the writing – so that the hearers/readers may know the certainty of what they have already learned about (1.4). This emphasis on attaining knowledge and understanding (ἐπιγνῶναι [1.4; 24.31]; γνῶναι [24.35]; συνιέναι [24.45]) is found, then, in both stated purpose and plot. The foregoing discussion, while lengthy, brings to attention the importance of the disciples’ understanding for the resolution of the plot. Responses to the epiphanies in Lk 24 bear heavily upon this resolution, a point that will be discussed in detail in what follows. Kindalee Pfremmer de Long’s (2009) study of “praise responses in the narrative of Luke-Acts” examines 17 occurrences of praise in Luke – I limit my comments in what follows to the Gospel. Eight of these are, in whole or in part, what in the present study are termed responses in miracle stories: Lk 1.64; 21 2.20; 5.25–26; 7.16; 13.13, 17 (by my counting two separate responses); 17.15–16; 18.43; 24.50–53. Three are in epiphany stories (1.64; 2.20; 24.50–53), the remainder in stories of healing and/or exorcism. De 18

E.g. Lk 11.29–30; 12.50; 13.32; 22.16. Litwak (2005), who gives a detailed look at the beginning, middle and end of “LukeActs” in light of not just citations and allusions but also “echoes,” does not find a paradigm of scriptural promise-fulfillment to be suitable for an understanding of the data in their entirety. Rather, he argues, the various uses of the scriptures seek to establish “continuity between Jesus and his followers and Israel in the past” (Litwak 2005: 206). While he has made a good case for many, perhaps the majority, of such subtle references to the scriptures of Israel as doing something beyond a prophecy-fulfillment paradigm, still there are some instances where a such a paradigm is at work. While they may be quantitatively the minority, in terms of plot analysis they have, at some key points, qualitative superiority. 20 See, e.g., the use of πλησθῆναι/πίμπλασθαι (which in the aorist sounds similar to πληρῶσαι and its cognates; cf. πληροφορῆσαι [Lk 1.1]) in Lk 1.23; 1.57; 2.6. 21 Zechariah’s speech (Lk 1.67–78), which de Long includes alongside 1.64 as an instance of praise, is presented by the narrative as prophecy (1.67). Clearly the opening blessing connects the prophecy with other utterances by human characters in Lk 1–2 (Mary, Simeon). But the prophetic aspect of his speech is more definitive than the blessing. 19

State of the Question

279

Long (2009: 133) argues that “that the motif of praise of God responds to and marks for the reader key moments in the divine visitation, which unfolds according to the plot synopsis offered by Simeon.” While the plot analysis can not be accepted in its entirety, 22 de Long makes a number of valuable observations on how the use of the motif of praise helps to give shape to the narrative of Luke. De Long notes the close relationship between joy and praise in the narrative. 23 She observes how characters’ praise – also joy – works alongside the promise-fulfillment motif to create tension with respect to recognition (de Long 2009: 134): Through the praise motif... the narrative introduces tension related to recognition. In various ways, the unfolding of the divine visitation... surprises characters. And the greatest surprise is Jesus’ death in Jerusalem. Not even his disciples can understand this dark moment in the plot until divine revelation brings recognition....

The tension she describes is seen most clearly in broader developments throughout the narrative, especially with respect to the disciples’ recognition of God’s activity through Jesus. Her arguments for the alleged tension in individual episodes are not always convincing, though Zechariah’s silence turning to praise at the narrative’s opening is an important exception. 24 22

For de Long (2009: 132) the “plot of Luke–Acts” – one work in two parts, is in view – “centers on two major subplots: the restoration of Israel’s glory (the Gospel and the beginning of Acts) and the conversion of the Gentiles (in the latter part of Acts). What unites these two strands in terms of plot is the person of Jesus and his identity as messiah, particularly related to his death and resurrection.” Both envisioned subplots, she argues, reach their peaks in Acts. Beyond citing the analysis of the plot of Lk, outlined above, which is in conflict with de Long’s conception, I briefly make the following observations. De Long’s (de Long 2009: 132) analysis relies too heavily and woodenly on the occurrence of specific vocabulary – i.e. the instances of ἐπισκέψασθαι (Lk 1.68, 78; 7.16; Acts 15.14) and the related noun, ἐπισκοπή (Lk 19.44) – in an attempt to identify “four major contexts in which divine salvation appears in the plot,” that is “Jesus’ birth, his healing ministry, his approach to Jerusalem (involving issues related to Jesus’ identity), and conversions of the Gentiles.” (There are actually not “four references to the visitation” [de Long 2009: 132], given this vocabulary, but five.) Still de Long’s comments on the resolution in Lk 24 of tension established earlier in the unfolding of the narrative are insightful and will be addressed in the analysis below. 23 De Long (2009: 146–147) states: “…joy in response to God’s work may function implicitly as praise of God, and conversely, it imbues praise of God with the quality of joy,” though praise is more frequent than joy after Lk 1. On her allowance for joy not being associated with praise (and not being positively portrayed), see below, n. 28. 24 De Long (2009: 183) claims that “[w]ith regard to narrative structure,” four of five miracles stories in Lk containing responses of praise (excluding 7.11–17) “involve narrative tensions analogous to the silence of Zechariah in the infancy narrative.” This claim holds true for 13.11–17, but not for the other three stories, where the response comes right

280

Chapter 4: Luke

Recognition is linked to comprehension of the Scriptures (de Long 2009: 134): “Thus praise responses mark... also characters’ recognition that events within the narrative – however surprising they may be – constitute the restoration anticipated by Israel’s prophets....” She makes an insightful corollary observation: “By contrast, silence and blame indicate characters’ failure to recognize and participate in the fulfillment of these hopes” (de Long 2009: 134). That recognition of God’s plan is not automatic – neither certain nor immediate – de Long (2009: 277) describes as the “key paradox” in the narrative. Given this, it is curious that she limits herself, with respect to healing effected by Jesus, to analysis of five stories. The vast majority of such stories, if not all, have responses. Important questions might be asked as to why, for example, praise occurs in a response in one episode but not in another. 25 Similarly de Long’s astute observation that the “surprising” way God’s plan unfolds is often an obstacle to characters’ recognition of it and the resulting praise raises the intriguing possibility of a correlation between amazement in responses and a lack or limited amount of recognition. Unfortunately, de Long gives no sustained treatment of responses of amazement, though in some contexts amazement is presented in contrast to praise and/or joy. 26 De Long gives some attention to how characters’ positive response of praise in

after the healing. (While tension in Lk 17.11–19 exists on account of the lack of response by some recipients, it does not represent a structure similar to that found in the stories of Zechariah.) See the analysis in Section Q, below. 25 Also, what is implied if a story has not only a delay of praise but actually no praise at all? 26 I note here briefly ways that some characters’ amazement indicates a lack of knowledge about what God is doing, in contrast to other characters’ praise: observers’ amazement (1.63b) at Zechariah’s behaviour is supplanted by the latter’s praise, when his speech is restored (1.64b) (the other characters’ amazement turns into their and others’ fear, memory and questions [1.65–66]); those who hear the shepherd’s report are amazed (2.18), while the shepherds confidently praise God (2.20); similarly, Simeon praises God (2.28–32), while Joseph and Mary stand nearby, amazed (2.33). (Related, in 1.21b–22b observers’ amazement/wondering at Zechariah’s delay in the temple turns into knowledge [not praise] that he had a vision.) If a distinction between praise and amazement is established at the beginning of the narrative, then a complex situation is created when praise comes together with amazement and fear in 5.26. This may suggest limited understanding, alongside praise. Likewise in 9.43 amazement accompanies knowledge of God’s greatness – something at least akin to praise. The episodes in ch. 24 jointly constitute a special case: the amazement of Peter and the others (24.12, 22), who do not believe (24.11) the report of the angelic witness to Jesus’ resurrection, does turn to praise (24.53) eventually, but in the meantime joy and amazement – and unbelief – come together in their response (24.41) to an appearance of Jesus.

State of the Question

281

one episode does not secure their positive portrayal in further episodes. 27 But, not noted by de Long, there are cases where praise is simultaneously accompanied by features showing a lack of understanding. 28 Responses, in general, do not neatly fit within binary categories. 29 She notes how sometimes characters’ visual sensation is noted prior to praise. 30 As de Long observes, individual praise is sometimes followed by corporate praise in healing stories (5.25– 26; 18.43; cf. 13.13, 17). 31 But the instances are too infrequent, too sporadic, to establish, as she argues, a narrative pattern. 32 A study by Karl Allen Kuhn (2009) on appeal to the emotions in biblical narrative is noteworthy in the present context, as his one lengthy case study is of Luke 1–2. An important point of departure is the observation that the Gospels are full of explicit reference to emotions (2009: 9):

27 De Long (2009: 188): “Their [religious leaders’] praise in 5:26 raises the possibility that they might accept the work of God for themselves, but their continued resistance suggests the opposite….” Similar questions arise about the portrayal of the crowds. Complexity of characterisation arises for crowds, too, as their joy in God (Lk 13.17) and praise of God (7.16; 18.43) seems tempered by (some of ) Jesus’ reproaches against “this generation” (9.41; 11.29–32; 17.25; though see 7.31) and other features of the narrative – see the discussion in Section Q, below. 28 E.g. the utterance accompanying praise in Lk 7.17 does not adequately identify Jesus. (See Section Q, below.) This creates a complex situation. Both the release of some tension and the forming of other tension. De Long (2009: 8. 135, n. 3; emphasis original) consciously allows for occurrences of joy being “not... positive” or “ambiguous,” but takes instances of praise to be “more clearly positive”. 29 While recognising the importance of Simeon’s words about rising and falling (Lk 2.34) as an organising principle for the plot, my analysis of responses in miracle stories, allows for shades of grey between the two idealised poles than does de Long’s study (2009), which mostly envisions either acceptance (praise) or rejection (silence or blame). 30 I.e. Lk 17.15–16; 18.43 (de Long 2009: 190, 191). But judging from other responses (e.g. 8.34) it follows that mention of characters’ visual sensation in the narrative is not always tantamount to indicating their “recognition of divine mercy” (192) or being able to “see the saving work of God,” contra de Long (2009: 192, 194; emphasis original). 31 Contra de Long (2009: 189), more caution should be exercised in relation to Lk 13.17, since speech is not necessarily implicit in the crowd’s response. The contrast is between joy (crowd) and shame (Jesus’ opponents). Note the praise explicitly lacking in another story (17.18) is related to (9 other) recipients of healing, not to corporate praise following the praise of an individual. 32 E.g. in discussion of Lk 13 de Long (2009: 188–189; cf. 149) curiously claims, “By this point in Luke, the reader has been conditioned to expect a communal response of praise....” I find few precedents of “communal” praise (1.58; possibly 2.20; 5.26; 7.16). Prior to this point, individuals (1.46–55; 1.64 [a response; cf. 1.67–79]; 2.28–32, 38; ) just as commonly praise God, without a community simultaneously or subsequently joining in as a chorus.

282

Chapter 4: Luke

The Gospels are filled with emotion and emotional characters. Emotional reactions (both positive and negative) to the announcement of Jesus’ birth in Luke’s and Matthew’s infancy narratives, Jesus’ miracles, Jesus’ teaching about the kingdom of God, and the reality of Jesus’ resurrection reveals that from the evangelists’ perspective emotion is a fundamental dimension of human response to the in-breaking of God’s reign in Jesus....

Many of the contexts he speaks of, perhaps the majority, are what the present study terms miracle stories. His use of the term “response,” though more general in scope, and the fundamental place that emotion has in “responses” are also noteworthy. Kuhn is aware, too, “that writers can reliably produce in readers an awareness of a character’s affective states by characterizing a situation whose construal is assumed to give rise to them.” 33 Unfortunately, Kuhn does not make a differentiation between explicit and implicit reference to characters’ emotions in his methodology and subsequent analysis. 34 In practice Kuhn gives attention to characters’ explicitly described emotions, but not as much as one might expect. 35 Claire K. Rothschild argues that the narrative of Luke-Acts exhibits stylistic features characteristic of rhetoric found in Greco-Roman historiography. In her treatment of appeals to eyewitnesses in Luke in particular, many of the texts she looks at are responses in miracle stories or contain them. 36 Rothschild notes, “Credibility was awarded the ancient historians able to demonstrate they had access to eyewitness reports of the events they narrate” (2004: 222). A literary device used in service of establishing this credibility Rothschild calls the “amplification of eyewitnesses,” that is an author’s portraying through narration the amplified quantity (“numerous”) and quality (especially the “powerful” status) of witnesses (Rothschild 2004: 215). She draws due attention to the “multiplication of eyewitnesses” in Luke, noting 20 instances. In contrast, revealingly, she provides only four instances of the “promotion of eyewitnesses” in Luke, though she discusses 14 such instances in Acts. Indeed, in Acts, the actions (or presence) of various socially promi-

33 Kuhn (2009: 25) cites with approval the judgement of cognitive psychologists Andrew Ortony, Gerald Clore and Allan Collins. 34 Kuhn’s (2009: 32–55) section on methodology (“How Biblical Narratives Move Us”) is divided into “plotting” and “characterization.” A discussion of explicit and implicit reference to characters’ emotions could reasonably appear in one or both of these. 35 Kuhn skips past explicit emotions with no discussion. For example Kuhn (2009: 99– 102) only scarcely mentions the “holy fear” of those who witness the miraculous loosing of Zechariah’s tongue, though he spends over two pages discussing the cause and nature of their earlier amazement. 36 Eight of the 20 portions of text Rothschild treats in Lk for “multiplication of eyewitnesses” (see below) are responses or parts thereof: Lk 1.65–66; 4.37; 5.15; 7.16–17; 8.37; 9.43a; 13.17; 24.8–9.

State of the Question

283

nent characters who are either positive 37 or moderately favourable 38 towards the young movement of Jesus followers seems to lend support to the narrative claim that the events portrayed are from credible sources – perhaps also generally known or verifiable – and, thus, they happened as written. Rothschild’s section on “certain exceptions to the amplification of eyewitnesses” discusses nine texts, all from Acts. One is left with the impression that there are no exceptions to the rules in Luke. In Luke however, regarding the “promotion of eyewitnesses” the majority of the events, including the miraculous, occur in the presence of those who are not distinguished socially; and named individuals of social status with a positive connection to Jesus are rare. 39 Sometimes those who are low on the social scale are the sole eyewitnesses, such as the shepherds, for example, who alone are the recipients of the grand angelophany at Jesus’ birth. Also, with respect to miracles specifically, though it is often noted that many observe or later hear about them, some miracles occur in the presence of only a few characters and news of them stays private, at least within the confines of Luke. Notable here, as in one or more of the other three gospels, are Jesus’ calming of the storm, the transfiguration, the angelophany at his tomb and his resurrection appearances. These key miracles take place precisely when the “multiplication of eyewitnesses” device is not at work. One of the “special manifestations of the rhetoric of eyewitnesses” Rothschild observes is, allegedly, the “regular emphasis on seeing over hearing” (2004: 240, 241). But she cites only Luke 24.11–12 and Acts 12.12–17 in support of the claim. 40 Seeing and hearing often come together, not in any hierarchical scheme, in both Luke (2.20; 7.22; 10.23–24; cf. 4.20–22; 8.10) 37

Such characters include important government officials – the eunuch over Queen Candace’s treasury and the proconsul Sergius Paulus – and otherwise dignified characters – Cornelius, Publius, possibly Lydia and various, unnamed, socially prominent women (Acts 17.4, 12). Note Rothschild does not discuss all of these characters. 38 Characters here include the proconsul Gallio, the tribune Lysias, the proconsul Festus, King Agrippa II, Queen Bernice. Note Rothschild does not discuss all of these characters. 39 Rothschild (2004: 268) discusses the named “women who provided financial support for Jesus’ ministry” in Lk 8. The unnamed centurion of Capernaum in Lk 7 who receives a miracle, however, escapes her attention. Thus, in Lk there are no counterparts to Sergius Paulus and Publius from Acts, who receive miracles and either believe in the teaching about Jesus or receive his representative cordially. 40 Rothschild might have cited, e.g., Lk 23.8. Her discussion of the text elsewhere shows she misses the relevant point: Herod did not “desire to meet Jesus and to hear his case himself” (Rothschild 2004: 269). After hearing about Jesus, he wanted to see Jesus perform a sign (see also Lk 9.9). Note Rothschild insists that emphasis “on seeing, not as a part of any doctrine of merit or theological argument... but as a part of an authenticating defense for a historical account, is unique in the NT to Luke-Acts” (2004: 245).

284

Chapter 4: Luke

and Acts (2.33; 4.20; 8.6; 22.14–15; cf. 19.26; 28.26–27). Still, Rothschild seems to have intuited something important with regards to seeing. In as much as this pertains to responses in miracle stories, the analysis below will consider the element of seeing, which occurs more frequently than references to hearing. As to whether this feature fits best within Hellenistic historiography as opposed to biblical modes of telling history is a question that cannot be entertained here. 41 One redaction critical study is to be mentioned. In Luke, Paul Achtemeier (1975: 553) argues, more so than in any other gospel “miracles can be the basis of belief in God,” a point “perhaps... most clearly seen in the way Luke characteristically concludes such narratives.” 42 The “typically Lucan ending of a miracle of Jesus” – also termed “the typically Lucan response to a miracle of Jesus” – is “glorifying God,” which indicates the “source of Jesus’ power” (Achtemeier 1975: 552, 561). According to Achtemeier (1975: 533) “there are regular references to the praise of God by those who witness the miracle of Jesus, or by the one who benefitted from it (5:25; 7:16; 9:43; 13:13; 17:15; 18:43)....” While these six instances might be deemed “characteristically” or “typically Lucan” by redaction critical standards, the claim that they have a “regular” occurrence can not be maintained. 43 Achtemeier (1975: 554) argues that in miracle stories “fear” (which is “a usual reaction in Luke to manifestations of the divine”) is, like the praise motif, “also a characteristic reaction... (5:26; 7:16; 8:35, 37; cf. also 24:5)” connected with faith. But two of the four instances he cites (8.35, 37) can hardly be examples wherein characters’ “reaction to miracles is to see God behind the activity of Jesus, thus acknowledging Jesus to be the one whom God has chosen to do his work” (Achtemeier 1975: 544). Still, Achtemeier’s specific focus on fear – and not generic “wonder” or Admiration – is noteworthy. He does not discuss responses of amazement, an important corollary issue needing consideration. The question of whether and which responses of praise and/or fear to miracles may indicate that the miracles are an important basis of belief must be revisited, giving attention to the flow of the larger narrative. Lastly, Achtemeier notices the importance of reference to seeing in the context of

41

Rothschild assumes, but does not argue, that Hellenistic context is where appeals to seeing in historiography are more characteristically to be found. 42 Achtemeier (1975: 556) claims further: “In Luke as in Acts, acceptance of the call to follow Jesus, whether as a disciple or in faith, is intimately connected with the miraculous activity of Jesus.” 43 By Achtemeier’s (1975: 547) count Luke has 20 miracle stories. Note Achtemeier avers that “in one instance, such a reaction [praise of God] is specified by Jesus as the proper response (17:18).” The instance is not so clear.

Miracle Stories with Responses

285

miracles. 44 Since most of his examples concern the alleged redaction of Luke’s sources, a more comprehensive treatment is needed here. I offer a final remark about narrative-critical approaches to responses in miracle stories in Luke, especially appropriate here, given the mention of Achtemeier. There is a tendency to look at what is distinctive in Luke in relation to the other Synoptic Gospels. The approaches, then, often have the feel of redaction-critical studies. This is true of works focused on themes especially related to responses (de Long) and others (Tannehill; Culpepper). Thus, studies that otherwise give nuanced analyses of individual episodes in which praise appears – including finding negative aspects of the portrayal of the characters offering the praise to God – tend to be uniform in their positive assessment of the act of praise itself. 45 At the same time, the instances of fear that occur in angelophanies and other epiphanies, in particular, are often taken for granted as part and parcel of the type of story they are found in and passed by with scarcely any comment. Rather than criticise these approaches here in detail, I will address the issue at hand, where relevant, in the analysis below (see, especially, Section Q).

B. Miracle Stories with Responses Luke has 27 miracle stories. 46 Some other stories contain miracles or summaries of miracles. 47 The 24 miracle stories with responses are: Gabriel’s appearance to Zechariah (1.8–23); Gabriel’s appearance to Mary (1.26–38); healing of Zechariah’s mouth (1.59–80); angelophany to shepherds at Jesus’ birth (2.1–20); exorcism in the synagogue of Capernaum (4.31–37); call of the first disciples (5.1–11); healing of the leper (5.12–16); healing of the 44

“Formal analysis also indicates Luke’s predilection for adding a reaction of the crowd, usually to praise God for what they have seen...” (Achtemeier 1975: 549–550). How “usual” reference to seeing is will be discussed below. 45 Cf. e.g., Tannehill 1986–1989: 86, 145; Culpepper 2000: 29–30; de Long 2009: 181– 183. 46 Zimmermann (2013: 513) counts 20 miracle stories in Lk. The present study includes four stories in chs. 1–2 and three more in ch. 24 as miracle stories. Also in contrast to Zimmermann, I do not consider the healing in ch. 22 to constitute a miracle story (see below, n. 47), but the transfiguration is to be counted as one. 47 The story of Jesus’ arrest contains a healing (Lk 22.47–53). Summaries of miracles appear in Lk 4.40–41; 6.17–19; 7.21; 9.11. Descriptions of some of Jesus’ disciples relate healings and exorcisms that are not narrated elsewhere (8.2–3). Speech of the disciples (9.9; 10.17; cf. 19.37) or Jesus (7.22; 10.13) also refers to miracles. The way the scene of Jesus’ crucifixion is narrated, notably the prominence given to the darkening of the sun and the tearing of the curtain in the temple, presents it almost as though it were a miracle story (see further, below, Section Q).

286

Chapter 4: Luke

paralytic (5.17–26); healing of the man with a withered hand (6.6–11); resurrection of the widow’s son (7.11–17); stilling of the storm (8.22–25); exorcism of Legion (8.26–39); healing of the hemorrhaging woman (8.42b–48); healing of Jairus’ daughter (8.40–42a, 49–56); transfiguration (9.28–36); exorcism of the possessed boy (9.37–45); exorcism of a mute demonpossessed man (on collusion with Beelzebul) (11.14–36); healing of the crippled woman (13.10–21); healing of the man with dropsy (14.1–24); healing of the 10 lepers (17.11–19); healing of Bartimaeus (18.35–43); angelophany to Mary Magdalene, Joanna and Mary of James (24.1–12); Jesus’ appearance to Cleopas and another disciple (24.13–35); Jesus’ appearance to the Eleven and the others (24.36–53). 48 In the analysis I will refer parenthetically to what is probably a response (4.39c) in the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law (4.38–39). For the healing of the centurion’s slave (7.1–10), Jesus’ amazement at the petitioner’s faith is an inversion of the response motif (7.9). Just one story has nothing akin to a response. 49

C. Number of Responses within a Miracle Story Nine miracle stories have more than one response. Two have three responses: Luke 9.32c–33, 9.34c and 9.36b–c; 24.37, 24.41a (two genitive absolute clauses) and 24.52–53. Seven have two: 1.12 and 1.21b–22b; 2.9c and 2.15b– 20; 5.8–10a and 5.11; 8.34–37a and 8.39b; 13.13c and 13.17b–c; 24.5a (two genitive absolute clauses) and 24.8–12; 24.31a–b and 24.32–35. Fifteen other stories have one response: 1.29; 1.64b–66; 4.36–37; 5.15; 5.25b–26; 6.11; 7.16–17; 8.25b; 8.47; 8.56a; 9.43a; 11.14c–16; 14.6; 17.15–16a; 18.43b–c. Thus 35 responses are the object of study in this chapter. The majority (5:8) of stories with multiple responses are epiphany stories. 50 Four stories contain two (1.8–23; 24.13–35; 24.36–53) or three (9.28–36) miracles. Seven responses are exceptions to the rule with respect to the denotation of verse subdivisions (“a,” “b,” etc.), which otherwise correspond to independent clauses (sentences): 2.15b–20; 5.8–10a; 5.25b–26; 9.32c–33; 13.17b–c; 24.5a; 24.41a. 51 Subdivisions within one response are also an exception (9.32c–33). 52 48

Though Lk 24.13–52 constitutes one episode, it is here divided into its two scenes. I.e. the feeding of the five thousand (Lk 9.10–17). 50 Two exorcism stories and one story of a miraculous provision of fish also have more than one response. Note five of eight epiphany stories have multiple responses (the other three stories each have one). 51 Lk 2.15a designates the initial clause with ἐγένετο and a temporal expression (καὶ ἐγένετο ὡς ἀπῆλθον ἀπ᾿ αὐτῶν εἰς τὸν οὐρανὸν οἱ ἄγγελοι; cf. Levinsohn [2000: 177]). While 9.32a refers to the first sentence, I use 9.32b to indicate the pre-nuclear participle of 49

Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers

287

D. Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers The elements in responses in Luke correspond primarily to verbs, as was the case in both Mark and Matthew. Still in Luke there are numerous instances where a noun, adjective or adverbial is as much or more of an indicator of the type of element. 53 Rarely, an element corresponds to an adverbial alone, a substantive or the content of speech. 54 Redundant quotative frames are taken as one instance of the verbal element. 55 In two further cases a set of two verbs is taken as one element. 56 So in Luke I identify 12 elements in responses – emotional, verbal, seeing, reporting, movement between locations, falling, other bodily movements, cognitive, belief, testing, hearing and finding. Some other features I label “other.”

the second sentence (διαγρηγορήσαντες δέ). Two pre-nuclear participial phrases are jointly referred to by 5.25a (καὶ παραχρῆμα ἀναστὰς ἐνώπιον αὐτῶν, ἄρας ἐφ᾿ ὃ κατέκειτο). So 2.15b, 5.25b and 9.32c refer to the remainder of the respective sentences (and verses). Similarly, 13.17a indicates the initial subordinate clause (καὶ ταῦτα λέγοντος αὐτοῦ) and 13.17b refers to the remainder of the sentence (κατῃσχύνοντο πάντες οἱ ἀντικείμενοι αὐτῷ). 5.10a (ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ Ἰάκωβον καὶ Ἰωάννην υἱοὺς Ζεβεδαίου, οἳ ἦσαν κοινωνοὶ τῷ Σίμωνι) is a sentence fragment which belongs to the preceding verse (5.9). 5.10b represents the remainder of the verse (i.e. the one complete sentence in the verse). The responses 24.5a (ἐμφόβων δὲ γενομένων αὐτῶν καὶ κλινουσῶν τὰ πρόσωπα εἰς τὴν γῆν) and 24.41a (ἔτι δὲ ἀπιστούντων αὐτῶν ἀπὸ τῆς χαρᾶς καὶ θαυμαζόντων) each consist of two pre-nuclear genitive absolute clauses. 24.5b and 24.41b refer to the remainder of the said sentences (and verses). 52 Lk 9.32c: εἶδον τὴν δόξαν αὐτοῦ καὶ τοὺς δύο ἄνδρας τοὺς συνεστῶτας αὐτῷ; 9.33a: καὶ ἐγένετο ἐν τῷ διαχωρίζεσθαι αὐτοὺς ἀπ᾿ αὐτοῦ; 9.33b: εἶπεν ὁ Πέτρος πρὸς τὸν Ἰησοῦν· ἐπιστάτα, καλόν ἐστιν ἡμᾶς ὧδε εἶναι, καὶ ποιήσωμεν σκηνὰς τρεῖς, μίαν σοὶ καὶ μίαν Μωϋσεῖ καὶ μίαν Ἠλίᾳ, μὴ εἰδὼς ὃ λέγει. 53 Noun as subject: φόβος ἐπέπεσεν (Lk 1.12); ἐγένετο... φόβος (1.65a); ἐγένετο θάμβος (4.36a); ἐξεπορεύετο ἦχος (4.37); θάμβος... περιέσχεν (5.9); διήρχετο... ὁ λόγος (5.15); ἔκστασις ἔλαβεν (5.26); ἔλαβεν... φόβος (7.16a); ἐξῆλθεν ὁ λόγος οὗτος (7.17). Noun as object: ἔδωκεν αἶνον (18.43c); κλινουσῶν τὰ πρόσωπα (24.5a). Noun in genitive or dative: ἐπλήσθησαν φόβου (5.26c); ἐπλήσθησαν ἀνοίας (6.11a); φόβῳ μεγάλῳ συνείχοντο (8.37). Adjective: ἐμφόβων... γενομένων (24.5a); ἔμφοβοι γενόμενοι (24.37) – cf. participle accompanying εἶναι: καιομένη ἦν (24.32). Adverbial: ἔθεντο... ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτῶν (1.66a); συμβάλλουσα ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτῆς (2.19). 54 Adverbial: ἀπὸ τῆς χαρᾶς (Lk 24.41a). Substantive: οἱ ἀκούσαντες and τῶν λαληθέντων (2.18); οἱ ἰδόντες (8.36). Content of speech: εἴδομεν παράδοξα σήμερον (5.26); οὐχὶ ἡ καρδία ἡμῶν καιομένη ἦν (24.32). 55 These are indicated below. 56 Lk 2.19: πάντα συνετήρει τὰ ῥήματα ταῦτα συμβάλλουσα ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτῆς. 1.66: ἔθεντο... ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτῶν λέγοντες....

288

Chapter 4: Luke

The 32 instances of the emotional element occur in 25 of the 35 responses (20 of 24 stories). They divide into six categories: fear (13 instances – 1.12b; 1.65a; 2.9c; 57 5.26c; 7.16a; 8.25b; 8.35d, 37a; 8.47a; 9.34c; 24.5; 24.37 [twice]); being troubled (2 instances – 1.12a; 1.29a); 58 amazement (11 instances – 1.21b; 2.18; 4.36a; 5.9–10a; 5.26a; 8.25b; 8.56a; 9.43a; 11.14c; 24.12c; 24.41); joy (13.17b; 24.41; 24.52); “burning hearts” (24.32); humiliation (13.17a); anger (6.11a). With two exceptions fear appears as a word from the root φόβ*: φοβηθῆναι (2.9c [ἐφοβήθησαν φόβον μέγαν]; 59 8.25b; 8.35d; 9.34c); φόβος (1.12b; 1.65a; 5.26c; 7.16a); φόβος μέγας (8.37a); ἔμφοβος (24.5a; 24.37). One exception (πτοηθῆναι: 24.37) 60 appears in tandem with ἔμφοβος. The other exception (τρέμειν: 8.47a) occurs alone. Being troubled is signified with ταραχθῆναι (1.12a) and διαταραχθῆναι (1.29a). Words of various roots indicate amazement: θαυμάσαι (1.21b; 2.18; 8.25b; 11.14c; 24.12c; 24.41); ἐκπλαγῆναι (9.43a); θάμβος (4.36a; 5.9–10a); ἐκστῆναι (8.56a); ἔκστασις (5.26a). 61 Joy comes as χαρά (24.41; 24.52) or χαρῆναι (13.17b). The occurrence of praise may also indicate joy (see below). Anger is referred to by πλησθῆναι ἀνοίας (6.11a); “burning hearts” by ἡ καρδία ἡμῶν καιομένη ἦν (24.32); and humiliation by καταισχυνθῆναι (13.17b). Those responding are at times the object of the verb (fear: 1.12b; 1.65a; 7.16a; cf. 8.37a [related passive verb] – amazement: 4.36a; 5.9–10a; 5.26a). 62 Rarely is the source of the emotion explicitly indicated, whether within the respective clause (6 or 7 instances) or in a post-nuclear participial clause

57 NB I take ἐφοβήθησαν φόβον μέγαν (Lk 2.9c) as but one instance of fear. On a variant reading, see below, n. 59. 58 Because being troubled is rare in responses in Lk, I note also its appearance in comments by Jesus in 24.38. 59 In Lk 2.9c Codex Vaticanus reads ἐφοβήθησαν σφόδρα; cf. ἐφοβήθησαν φόβον μέγαν σφόδρα (W). 60 πτοηθέντες (A D P S etc.) is probably preferable to θροηθέντες (B P75) in Lk 24.37. Both are superior to φοβηθέντες (‫ א‬W). The basic sense of fear is retained with θροηθῆναι (BDAG: ad loc). NB I count πτοηθέντες δὲ καὶ ἔμφοβοι γενόμενοι as two instances of the emotional element of fear. While the verbs may constitute a pleonasm, I allow for the possibility that they do not. 61 Some early manuscripts do not have the phrase καὶ ἔκστασις ἔλαβεν ἅπαντας in Lk 5.26 (D S W). 62 Fear – with accusative: ἔλαβεν δὲ φόβος πάντας (Lk 7.16a) – with ἐπί and accusative: φόβος ἐπέπεσεν ἐπ᾿ αὐτόν (1.12); ἐγένετο ἐπὶ πάντας φόβος τοὺς περιοικοῦντας αὐτούς (1.65a) – cf. φόβῳ μεγάλῳ συνείχοντο (8.37). Amazement – with accusative: θάμβος... περιέσχεν αὐτὸν καὶ πάντας τοὺς σὺν αὐτῷ... ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ Ἰάκωβον καὶ Ἰωάννην υἱοὺς Ζεβεδαίου, οἳ ἦσαν κοινωνοὶ τῷ Σίμωνι (5.9); ἔκστασις ἔλαβεν ἅπαντας (5.26) – with ἐπί and accusative: ἐγένετο θάμβος ἐπὶ πάντας (4.36a).

Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers

289

(twice) – all but three of the instances pertain to amazement. 63 (In a motif related to responses, the object of Jesus’ amazement in a miracle story is explicitly noted: his suppliant [ἐθαύμασεν αὐτόν: 7.9a].) Only once (8.25b; cf. 24.32) is Jesus specifically identified as the cause of the emotion. He is mentioned as part of the cause in another instance (13.17c). In only one other instance does an adverbial accompany an emotion (again amazement). 64 One upshot is that fear / being troubled very often (13:15) occurs without further specifications, whereas amazement does only about half the time (5:11 or 6:11). Lastly, it should be noted that twice joy is an adverbial for another element (unbelief: 24.41a – movement: 24.52) and once amazement, as a post-nuclear participle, constrains the way that an act of relocation is to be processed (24.12c). As for distribution, a pattern can be seen with respect to types of miracle stories. Fear / being troubled is the most common emotion in responses in epiphany stories and/or the rescue nature miracle story (7 of 9 stories). It is worth noting that one or more responses in all such stories have an emotional element. When fear / being troubled is not present, either joy alone is (24.52) or “burning hearts” alone (24.32). When other emotions are present alongside fear / being troubled, either amazement alone (1.21b [cf. 1.12]; 8.25b) or amazement alongside joy and/or praise (2.18, 20 [cf. 2.9c] with praise; 24.41 [cf. 24.37] with joy and praise) occurs. In other types of miracle stories, when the emotional element is present in (a) response(s) (11 of 15 stories – 13 of 15 if praise is considered an indication of joy), amazement is the most common (6 stories). Fear is less common (4 stories). Six stories contain either joy (1) or praise (5); thus, it is possible that joy is as frequent as amazement. Humiliation and anger each occur in one story. In five stories amazement alone occurs. With one exception (8.37) fear occurs in conjunction with praise (1.64b–65; 5.25b–26; 7.16) – in 5.25b– 26 amazement accompanies them both. Joy appears alongside humiliation in one story (13.17). Anger appears alone (6.11a). Twice praise occurs where no (other) emotion does (17.15; 18.43b–c). To paint in broad strokes, then, one 63 Unless otherwise indicated, amazement is the relevant emotion in what follows. With accusative: τὸ γεγονός (Lk 24.12c). With ἐπί and dative: ἐπὶ τῷ λόγῳ (1.29 – being troubled); ἐπὶ τῇ ἄγρᾳ τῶν ἰχθύων ὧν συνέλαβον (5.9–10a); ἐπὶ τῇ μεγαλειότητι τοῦ θεοῦ (9.43); ἐπὶ πᾶσιν τοῖς ἐνδόξοις τοῖς γινομένοις ὑπ᾿ αὐτοῦ (13.17c – joy). With περί and genitive: περὶ τῶν λαληθέντων ὑπὸ τῶν ποιμένων πρὸς αὐτούς (2.18). With a postnuclear participle introducing direct speech: λέγοντες ὅτι εἴδομεν παράδοξα σήμερον (5.26 – fear); λέγοντες πρὸς ἀλλήλους· τίς ἄρα οὗτός ἐστιν ὅτι καὶ τοῖς ἀνέμοις ἐπιτάσσει καὶ τῷ ὕδατι, καὶ ὑπακούουσιν αὐτῷ (8.25b). The instance of an adverbial of time is probably relevant also: ἐν τῷ χρονίζειν ἐν τῷ ναῷ αὐτόν (1.21b). (See also two dependent clauses in one instance: ὡς ἐλάλει ἡμῖν ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ, ὡς διήνοιγεν ἡμῖν τὰς γραφάς [24.32].) 64 Lk 24.12c: πρὸς ἑαυτὸν θαυμάζων. Note B and L have πρὸς αὐτὸν θαυμάζων.

290

Chapter 4: Luke

sees that whereas fear is characteristic of epiphany and nature miracle stories, other stories can be roughly divided into two kinds, in which either amazement alone or joy/praise, often accompanied by some (other) emotional response, occurs. I note also that amazement comes as a reaction to Jesus’ words or teaching in some contexts. 65 And Jesus’ teaching is associated with his healings and exorcisms. 66 The verbal element is the next most common, with 26 instances (in 18 of 33 responses, 17 of 24 stories). Redundant quotative frames are noted in the list that follows by the phrase “with εἰπεῖν,” provided in brackets. There is a notable presence of verbs or a verbal phrase for praise, directed to God (11 instances in 8 responses/stories): δοξάσαι (Lk 2.20; 5.25b, 26b; 67 7.16b [with εἰπεῖν]; 13.13c; 17.15; 18.43b); αἰνέσαι (2.20); δοῦναι αἶνον (18.43c); εὐλογῆσαι (1.64b [with εἰπεῖν]; 24.53). 68 The object is always stated: τῷ θεῷ (18.43b); τὸν θεόν (the others). 69 In one case direct speech is offered. 70 In another the grounds for and, likely, the content of the praise (two verbs) are given. 71 Only once is there an adverbial (μετὰ φωνῆς μεγάλης: 17.15). Some instances of praise (5.25b; 17.15; 18.43) may indicate joy. 72 65 Amazement occurs at Jesus’ words/teaching: Lk 2.47; 4.22, 32; 20.26. I note one more instance of amazement in a miracle story (not a response): 9.43b. Beyond these contexts, Jesus parents’ are greatly amazed at the adolescent’s behaviour (2.48) and amazed at the wonderful things said about him as a child (2.33). Only three other instances of amazement occur in Lk: at Zechariah confirming his child’s name (1.63); at Jesus’ seemingly inappropriate eating habits (11.38) at the women followers’ report (24.22 – this report of a report occurs within direct speech). 66 A response in an early miracle story of Jesus’ ministry associates his teaching to his driving out demons (4.36). Jesus’ teaching is coupled with his exorcisms (and other healings) early on (Lk 4.14–4.44). See below, Section Q. 67 Some early manuscripts do not have the phrase καὶ ἐδόξαζον τὸν θεόν in Lk 5.26 (D S W). 68 NB ἐλάλει appears in Lk 1.64b. I do not count it as a separate instance of the verbal element, though strictly speaking we are not dealing with a redundant quotative frame. The post-nuclear participle εὐλογῶν (see above) clarifies what type of speech occurs. The preferred reading in Lk 24.53 is εὐλογοῦντες (P75 ‫ א‬B C* L YC) – αἰνοῦντες καὶ εὐλογοῦντες (A CC S U W etc.) is likely a later development. 69 In Lk 2.20 the implied object of δοξάσαι is the same as αἰνέσαι. 70 Lk 7.16b (using ὅτι recitativum): ἐδόξαζον τὸν θεὸν λέγοντες ὅτι προφήτης μέγας ἠγέρθη ἐν ἡμῖν καὶ ὅτι ἐπεσκέψατο ὁ θεὸς τὸν λαὸν αὐτοῦ. 71 Lk 2.20: δοξάζοντες καὶ αἰνοῦντες τὸν θεὸν ἐπὶ πᾶσιν οἷς ἤκουσαν καὶ εἶδον καθὼς ἐλαλήθη πρὸς αὐτούς. 72 Praise is associated with a variety of emotions in the responses of some characters: joy (Lk 24.52–53); fear (7.16); and both fear and amazement (5.26). Still, the distinct association of joy and praise at the narrative’s opening (1.47, 58; 2.10–14 [20]; cf. 1.14, 44) may have an enduring effect of a default association to praise. Thus, the praise response of characters, where no emotion is explicitly stated (5.25b; 17.15; 18.43), might be

Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers

291

As for the other 15 instances of the verbal element, occurring once are: εὐχαριστῆσαι (17.16a) and ζητῆσαι (σημεῖον ἐξ οὐρανοῦ) (11.16). Otherwise verbs (or at least their roots) tend to be generic: εἰπεῖν (5.8; 5.26c; 8.25b; 9.33b [twice]; 11.15; 73 24.32; cf. 7.9); λαλῆσαι (2.15b); 74 συλλαλῆσαι (4.36b [with εἰπεῖν]); διαλαλῆσαι (6.11b); ἐρωτῆσαι (8.37a). Twice silence is noted: σιγῆσαι (9.36b); οὐκ ἴσχυσαν ἀνταποκριθῆναι πρὸς ταῦτα (14.6). 75 This terminology (other than thanks) can express antagonism – speech (11.15); request (9.37a; 11.16); discussion (6.11b) – or be otherwise associated with it – silence (14.6). The last instance may pertain also to humiliation (cf. 13.17a). The addressee is often explicitly identified in the clause describing the speech: πρὸς ἀλλήλους (5 times); Jesus (4 times). 76 Where relevant, there are only two exceptions (9.33b [second instance]; 17.16a) to the rule that the content of the speech is indicated, mostly directly (9 times), 77 though at times indirectly (3 times). 78 With one exception (5.26c; cf. 14.6), Jesus is largely (4.36b; 6.11b; 8.25b; 8.37a; 11.15, 16; 24.32) or partially (2.15b; 5.8; 9.33b) the topic of the utterance. Once a post-nuclear participle, indicating lack of comprehension, specifies the nature of the speech. 79 (Alternatively, three seen an expression of joy. In addition, the early association of praise and joy has a primacy effect on hearers/readers; see below, Section Q. 73 45 P reads ἐλάλησεν ὀχυροὶ λέγοντες in Lk 11.15 in place of εἶπαν (B) / εἶπον (P75 ‫א‬ A C D N S U W etc.). 74 In Lk 2.15b ἐλάλουν (B ‫ א‬W) is to be preferred to εἶπον (A D P S etc.). In ‫ א‬εἰπεῖν occurs as a post-nuclear participle, making a redundant quotative frame. 75 A few manuscripts read οὐκ ἴσχυσαν ἀποκριθῆναι (‫ א‬Λ etc.) in Lk 14.6. D reads οὐκ ἀπεκρίθησαν. 76 To one another: ἐλάλουν πρὸς ἀλλήλους (2.15b); συνελάλουν πρὸς ἀλλήλους (4.36b); διελάλουν πρὸς ἀλλήλους (6.11b); λέγοντες πρὸς ἀλλήλους (8.25b); εἶπαν πρὸς ἀλλήλους (24.32). To Jesus: ἠρώτησεν αὐτὸν (8.37a); εἶπεν... πρὸς τὸν Ἰησοῦν (9.33b); ἐζήτουν παρ᾿ αὐτοῦ (11.16); εὐχαριστῶν αὐτῷ (17.16a). Cf. 5.8 where the preceding nuclear verb identifies Jesus as the addressee. 77 Direct speech is always relatively short (1–2 sentences): διέλθωμεν δὴ ἕως Βηθλέεμ καὶ ἴδωμεν τὸ ῥῆμα τοῦτο τὸ γεγονὸς ὃ ὁ κύριος ἐγνώρισεν ἡμῖν (Lk 2.15b); τίς ὁ λόγος οὗτος ὅτι ἐν ἐξουσίᾳ καὶ δυνάμει ἐπιτάσσει τοῖς ἀκαθάρτοις πνεύμασιν καὶ ἐξέρχονται; (4.36b); ἔξελθε ἀπ᾿ ἐμοῦ, ὅτι ἀνὴρ ἁμαρτωλός εἰμι, κύριε (5.8); εἴδομεν παράδοξα σήμερον (5.26c – using ὅτι recitativum); τίς ἄρα οὗτός ἐστιν ὅτι καὶ τοῖς ἀνέμοις ἐπιτάσσει καὶ τῷ ὕδατι, καὶ ὑπακούουσιν αὐτῷ; (8.25b); ἐπιστάτα, καλόν ἐστιν ἡμᾶς ὧδε εἶναι, καὶ ποιήσωμεν σκηνὰς τρεῖς, μίαν σοὶ καὶ μίαν Μωϋσεῖ καὶ μίαν Ἠλίᾳ (9.33b); ἐν Βεελζεβοὺλ τῷ ἄρχοντι τῶν δαιμονίων ἐκβάλλει τὰ δαιμόνια (11.15); οὐχὶ ἡ καρδία ἡμῶν καιομένη ἦν [ἐν ἡμῖν] ὡς ἐλάλει ἡμῖν ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ, ὡς διήνοιγεν ἡμῖν τὰς γραφάς; (24.32); cf. also λέγω ὑμῖν, οὐδὲ ἐν τῷ Ἰσραὴλ τοσαύτην πίστιν εὗρον (7.9). 78 Accusative infinitive clause: ἠρώτησεν αὐτὸν... ἀπελθεῖν ἀπ᾿ αὐτῶν (8.37a). Relative clause: τί ἂν ποιήσαιεν τῷ Ἰησοῦ (6.11b). Other: σημεῖον ἐξ οὐρανοῦ ἐζήτουν παρ᾿ αὐτοῦ (11.16). 79 Lk 9.33b: μὴ εἰδὼς ὃ λέγει.

292

Chapter 4: Luke

times [direct] speech comes as a post-nuclear participle specifying the way that falling [5.8] or an emotion [5.26c; 8.25b] is to be understood.) Other than this, no adverbials occur. 80 Of the nine total instances of direct speech, there are two suggestions (cohortative statements: 2.15b; 9.33b), one command (5.8), two questions (4.36b; 8.25b) and four instances of statements only (5.26c; 7.16b; 11.15; 24.32; cf. 7.9). The 18 occurrences of seeing appear in 14 responses (12 stories). All but two instances use the verb ἰδεῖν (Lk 1.12; 1.22b; 2.15, 17, 20; 5.8; 5.26c; 8.34a, 35a, 36; 8.47a; 9.32c; 9.36c; 17.15; 18.43c; 24.12b). 81 Once θεωρῆσαι (24.37) occurs. In the remaining case a phrase – αὐτῶν... διηνοίχθησαν οἱ ὀφθαλμοί (24.31a) – expresses visual perception as much as cognitive activity. 82 The same is true of one instance of ἰδεῖν (8.47a). For the sake of ease of analysis, these two instances will be referred to as occurrences of seeing, though the cognitive aspect will also be addressed in discussion. (The sense of sight may be implicitly evoked in an instance of a physical element [κλινῆσαι τὸ πρόσωπον: 24.5].) In two thirds of the instances, the object of the sight is specified, whether a relative pronoun (twice), single noun phrase (6 times), or a more complex noun phrase or structure (4 times). 83 Twice Jesus is a/the object (9.32c; 24.37). Only three adverbials occur – one each pertaining to time, location and manner. 84 In nine of the instances seeing is presented independently. Not infrequently it is the content of another element – verbal (2.15b; 2.20; 5.26c), cognitive (1.22b; 24.37), reporting (9.36c). Once it is a substantive (8.36). Once it is an infinitive expressing the purpose of an act of relocation (8.35). Once, coming after the nuclear verb, it specifies the way the emotional trouble is to be understood (1.12). Note speech in Lk 8.37a is followed by a dependent explanatory clause: ὅτι φόβῳ μεγάλῳ συνείχοντο. 81 In Lk 1.29a a less probable reading has ἰδοῦσα διεταράχθη (A Cc S W etc.); cf. διεταράχθη (B ‫ א‬W etc.). 82 The phrase describes regaining the ability to perceive who Jesus is. The “eyes” being “restrained” (24.16) and “opened” are both linked (causally – explicitly in 24.16) to recognising Jesus (ἐπιγνῶναι). The opening of the eyes is linked to the disciples visually observing Jesus break bread (Lk 24.30b; cf. 24.35). The phrase αὐτῶν... διηνοίχθησαν οἱ ὀφθαλμοί is not merely, then, a metaphor for cognitive activity; visual sensation is also implied. (Note two variations: διηνύγησαν [‫ ]*א‬and ἠνύγησαν [D].) 83 Neuter relative pronoun: οἷς... εἶδον (2.20); ὧν ἑώρακαν (9.36c). Noun phrase: ὀπτασίαν (1.22b); παράδοξα (5.26c); τὸ γεγονός (8.34a); τὸ γεγονός (8.35a); τὰ ὀθόνια μόνα (24.12b – this reading [P75 B ‫א‬c W] is preferable to τὰ ὀθόνια κείμενα [A etc.] and τὰ ὀθόνια κείμενα μόνα [S etc.]); πνεῦμα (24.37). More complex structure: τὸ ῥῆμα τοῦτο τὸ γεγονὸς ὃ ὁ κύριος ἐγνώρισεν ἡμῖν (2.15b); ὅτι οὐκ ἔλαθεν (8.47); τὴν δόξαν αὐτοῦ καὶ τοὺς δύο ἄνδρας τοὺς συνεστῶτας αὐτῷ (9.32c); ὅτι ἰάθη (17.15); 84 Time: σήμερον (5.26c). Location: ἐν τῷ ναῷ (1.22b). Manner: καθὼς ἐλαλήθη πρὸς αὐτούς (2.20). 80

Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers

293

The reporting element occurs 15 times (in 11 responses, 9 stories). Three times verbs of movement, without agency specified, indicate the spread of news: ἐξεπορεύετο ἦχος περὶ αὐτοῦ (4.37); διήρχετο... ὁ λόγος περὶ αὐτοῦ (5.15a); ἐξῆλθεν ὁ λόγος οὗτος... περὶ αὐτοῦ (7.17). The λόγος/ἦχος is about Jesus (4.37; 5.15a [probably]; 7.17). 85 When the act of communication is inherent in the verb, various words are used: ἀπαγγεῖλαι (8.34b, 36; 8.47b; 9.36c; 24.9; cf. 847b); κηρύξαι (8.39b); ἐξηγήσασθαι (24.35); γρωρίσαι (2.17); 86 διαλαληθῆναι (1.65b); λαληθῆναι (2.18); εἰπεῖν (24.10b; 24.34). In five of these 12 instances addressees (or absence thereof) are specified in the relevant clause. 87 For the passive verbs once the agent is identified (2.18; cf. 1.65b). With two exceptions, the content of the report is represented in these instances, whether simply or in more detail. 88 In nine of the 12 instances Jesus himself, whether explicitly or implicitly, is a limited (4 times) or significant (5 times) part of what is reported. 89 Such a tendency, then, is found in 12 of 15 total instances. Adverbials accompany the verb occasionally – indicating mostly the physical extent reached by the reporting (5 of 15 instances), though also noting time (once) and marking an alternative (once). 90 In one instance it is made explicit that reporting did not take place (9.36c). 91 Mostly reporting is portrayed as an act by itself (not an aspect of another element). 92 85 Recent precedent (Lk 4.14; 4.37 [a response]) with similar phrasing makes it highly probable that the περὶ αὐτοῦ in 5.15a also refers to Jesus. 86 Superior manuscripts have ἐγνώρισαν (B ‫ א‬D W etc.); cf. διεγνώρισαν (A P S etc.). 87 Addressees: πρὸς αὐτούς (Lk 2.18); ἐνώπιον παντὸς τοῦ λαοῦ (8.47b – note the best witnesses [P75 B ‫ א‬Cc D W etc.] do not have the additional αὐτῷ [C* P S etc.]); τοῖς ἕνδεκα καὶ πᾶσιν τοῖς λοιποῖς (24.9); πρὸς τοὺς ἀποστόλους (24.10b). Lack thereof: οὐδενί (9.36c). 88 Demonstrative pronoun: ταῦτα (24.10); ταῦτα πάντα (24.9). Simple noun phrase: πάντα τὰ ῥήματα ταῦτα (1.65b). Prepositional phrase: περὶ τοῦ ῥήματος τοῦ λαληθέντος αὐτοῖς περὶ τοῦ παιδίου τούτου (2.17). Relative clause: πῶς ἐσώθη ὁ δαιμονισθείς (8.36); ὅσα ἐποίησεν αὐτῷ ὁ Ἰησοῦς (8.39b); δι᾿ ἣν αἰτίαν ἥψατο αὐτοῦ... καὶ ὡς ἰάθη παραχρῆμα (8.47); οὐδὲν ὧν ἑώρακαν (9.36c – with preceding noun); ὅτι ὄντως ἠγέρθη ὁ κύριος καὶ ὤφθη Σίμωνι (24.34 – alternatively this is direct speech with ὅτι recitativum); τὰ ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ καὶ ὡς ἐγνώσθη αὐτοῖς ἐν τῇ κλάσει τοῦ ἄρτου (24.35 – also with accusative noun phrase). When the content of reporting is not given in the relevant clauses (2.18; 8.34b), it is specified in the preceding sentence (2.17 [see above]; 8.34a [τὸ γεγονός]). 89 Significant part – explicit: Lk 2.17; 8.39b; 24.34, 35 – implicit: 2.18. Limited part – explicit: 8.47b – implicit: 9.36c; 24.9, 10. No part: 1.65b (the character of Jesus has not been introduced yet); 8.34b (cf. τὸ γεγονός [8.34a]), 8.36 (πῶς ἐσώθη ὁ δαιμονισθείς). 90 Physical extent: ἐν ὅλῃ τῇ ὀρεινῇ τῆς Ἰουδαίας (Lk 1.65b); εἰς πάντα τόπον τῆς περιχώρου (4.37); ἐν ὅλῃ τῇ Ἰουδαίᾳ... καὶ πάσῃ τῇ περιχώρῳ (7.17); εἰς τὴν πόλιν καὶ εἰς τοὺς ἀγρούς (8.34b); καθ᾿ ὅλην τὴν πόλιν (8.39b). Time: ἐν ἐκείναις ταῖς ἡμέραις (9.36c – note this is a negative instance of reporting). Alternative: μᾶλλον (5.15a). 91 The term used (ἀπαγγεῖλαι: Lk 9.36c) makes it clear what type of speech (reporting) is at stake. This is not the case in 1.22a (οὐκ ἐδύνατο λαλῆσαι αὐτοῖς). Also, the expecta-

294

Chapter 4: Luke

There are 17 instances of movement between locations (in 12 responses, 11 stories). Bearing some conceptual similarities are: following Jesus (ἀκολουθῆσαι: 5.11; 18.43b – each time with αὐτῷ), coming to him in response to reports of miracles (συνελθεῖν [5.15b]; ἐξελθεῖν [8.35a]; ἐλθεῖν [8.35b]), coming upon his inquiry as to who touched him (8.47a) and returning to him after seeing a miracle (ὑποστρέψαι: 17.15). Fleeing (φυγεῖν: 8.34a), going hastily (ἦλθαν σπεύσαντες: 2.16a) and running (δραμεῖν: 24.12a) occur. Seven more instances of relocating (ὑποστρέψαι: 2.20; 24.9; 24.33a; 24.52 – ἀπελθεῖν: 5.25b; 8.39; 24.12c) occur. An adverbial indicating direction or destination of movement appears six times. 93 In six cases the movement is constrained by a post-nuclear participle (mostly with ὑποστρέψαι and δραμεῖν). 94 Twice infinitive clauses indicate the purpose of motion. 95 Once a prepositional clause expresses the manner of movement. 96 There are five instances of activity involving adopting some lower body posture with respect to another character (in 5 responses, 5 stories). The verbs used are various: προσπεσεῖν (5.8; 8.47b); πεσεῖν ἐπὶ πρόσωπον (17.16a); κλινῆσαι τὸ πρόσωπον (24.5a); προσκυνῆσαι (24.52). For convenience and despite some incongruity of terminology, I will refer to these instances as “falling.” The posture of respect is performed before angels (24.5a) and Jesus (5.8; 8.47b; 17.16a; 24.52). The person receiving homage is explicitly indicated in the respective clause, with one exception (24.5a). 97 Twice another

tion has not yet been established at this early stage in the narrative that characters report to others what they experience in miracle stories. 92 Once, as a post-nuclear participle, reporting specifies the nature of the act of movement (Lk 8.39b). Reporting is the cause of amazement once (ἐθαύμασαν περὶ τῶν λαληθέντων ὑπὸ τῶν ποιμένων πρὸς αὐτούς: 2.18). Once reporting is an attribute of those individuals who are the object of the act of “finding” performed by others (24.34). 93 With destination: εἰς τὸν οἶκον αὐτοῦ (Lk 5.25b); πρὸς τὸν Ἰησοῦν (8.35b); ἐπὶ τὸ μνημεῖον (24.12a); εἰς Ἰερουσαλήμ (24.33; 24.52). With location departed: ἀπὸ τοῦ μνημείου (24.9). Note the related instance of καθ᾿ ὅλην τὴν πόλιν (8.39b) which occurs in a post-nuclear participle, modifying ἀπῆλθεν. 94 With speech: ὑπέστρεψαν... δοξάζοντες καὶ αἰνοῦντες τὸν θεόν... (Lk 2.20); ἀπῆλθεν... δοξάζων τὸν θεόν (5.25b); ὑπέστρεψεν... δοξάζων τὸν θεόν (17.15); ἠκολούθει... δοξάζων τὸν θεόν (18.43b). With reporting: ἀπῆλθεν... κηρύσσων... (8.39b). With emotion: ἀπῆλθεν... θαυμάζων... (24.12c). 95 Lk 5.15b: συνήρχοντο... ἀκούειν καὶ θεραπεύεσθαι ἀπὸ τῶν ἀσθενειῶν αὐτῶν. 8.35a: ἐξῆλθον... ἰδεῖν τὸ γεγονός. 96 Lk 24.52: ὑπέστρεψαν... μετὰ χαρᾶς μεγάλης. 97 With dative: τοῖς γόνασιν Ἰησοῦ (Lk 5.8); αὐτῷ (8.47b). With accusative: αὐτόν (24.52). With a prepositional phrase: παρὰ τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ (17.16a).

Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers

295

element (speech), as a post-nuclear participle, modifies the physical act of respect. 98 An adverbial specifying direction occurs once. 99 Other bodily motions occur five times (in 3 responses, 3 stories). Bending over “for the purpose of looking” (παρακῦψαι [BDAG: ad loc.]) semantically different from falling and related actions, occurs once (24.12b). There are two instances of standing up – ἀναστῆναι (24.12a; 24.33a; cf. 4.39c) – the latter with an adverbial. 100 Bringing (καταγαγεῖν: 5.11) and leaving (ἀφεῖναι: 5.11) an object also occur. 101 (See also the instance of serving [διηκόνει: 4.39c].) Verbs for cognitive processes occur nine times (in 8 responses, 8 stories). Characters realise or recognise (ἐπιγνῶναι: 1.22b; 24.31b), suppose (ἐφάνησαν ἐνώπιον αὐτῶν ὡσεὶ λῆρος τὰ ῥήματα ταῦτα: 24.11a – δόξαι: 24.37), 102 ponder (διαλογίσασθαι: 1.29), remember (μνησθῆναι: 24.8) and lay up in their memory (ἔθεντο... ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτῶν λέγοντες...: 1.66a) 103 or treasure up in their memory (πάντα συνετήρει τὰ ῥήματα ταῦτα συμβάλλουσα ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτῆς: 2.19). Once a lack of awareness is noted (μὴ εἰδέναι: 9.33b). The exceptional structure in 24.11a aside, in all instances the object is specified, by means of a noun phrase (3 times) or something more complex (5 times). 104 Twice τὰ ῥήματα ταῦτα (2.19; 24.11a; cf. 1.65b) denotes the content of the cognition. Twice Jesus (24.31b; 24.37) and once his words (24.8) are the object of cognitive activity. The only adverbials occur in 24.11a. 105 Beyond these nine instances, as noted above, two occur-

Lk 5.8: προσέπεσεν... λέγων· ἔξελθε ἀπ᾿ ἐμοῦ, ὅτι ἀνὴρ ἁμαρτωλός εἰμι, κύριε. 17.16a: ἔπεσεν ἐπὶ πρόσωπον... εὐχαριστῶν αὐτῷ. 99 Lk 24.5a: κλινουσῶν τὰ πρόσωπα εἰς τὴν γῆν. 100 Lk 24.33a: αὐτῇ τῇ ὥρᾳ. 101 The objects are: related: καταγαγόντες τὰ πλοῖα ἐπὶ τὴν γῆν ἀφέντες πάντα (5.11). Note: a case could be made for including the two verbs of Lk 5.25a (standing: ἀναστὰς ἐνώπιον αὐτῶν; picking up an object: ἄρας ἐφ᾿ ὃ κατέκειτο) as part of the response. Yet, a statement of the effectiveness of a healing often precedes the response (e.g. in stories that occur prior to this point – 4.35b, 39b; 5.6–7, 13c). So it is probably not until the familiar motif of praise occurs (5.25b), associated with the man’s movement, that the response truly commences. 102 The best manuscripts have τὰ ῥήματα ταῦτα (P75 B ‫ א‬D etc.), not τὰ ῥήματα αὐτῶν (A S W etc.). 103 On λέγοντες referring not to speech but to thought, see, e.g., Lk 5.21[–22]. 104 Noun phrase: πάντα συνετήρει τὰ ῥήματα ταῦτα συμβάλλουσα... (Lk 2.19); ἐμνήσθησαν τῶν ῥημάτων αὐτοῦ (24.8); ἐπέγνωσαν αὐτόν (24.31b). Infinitive clause: ἐδόκουν πνεῦμα θεωρεῖν (24.37). Relative clause: μὴ εἰδὼς ὃ λέγει (9.33b). Thought represented as speech: ἔθεντο... ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτῶν λέγοντες· τί ἄρα τὸ παιδίον τοῦτο ἔσται; (1.66). Other dependent clauses: ἐπέγνωσαν ὅτι ὀπτασίαν ἑώρακεν ἐν τῷ ναῷ (1.22b); διελογίζετο ποταπὸς εἴη ὁ ἀσπασμὸς οὗτος (1.29b). 105 Lk 24.11a: ἐνώπιον αὐτῶν and ὡσεὶ λῆρος. 98

296

Chapter 4: Luke

rences of the element of seeing (8.47a; 24.31a) pertain as much to mental as to visual perception. Two responses (in 2 stories) each have an instance of disbelief (ἀπιστῆσαι: 24.11; 24.41). 106 Once an object is given (αὐταῖς: 24.11). The one adverbial is an instance of an emotion (ἀπὸ τῆς χαρᾶς: 24.41 – discussed above). Only one element is expressly antagonistic, namely, testing Jesus (πειράσαι: Lk 11.16). (Related are the instances of the verbal element in 6.11b, 11.15, 16, mentioned above.) 107 Hearing occurs 3 times, in 2 responses/stories (ἀκοῦσαι: 1.66a; 2.18a, 20), with the object noted once. 108 Finding someone (εὑρεῖν: 8.35c; 24.33b – ἀνευρεῖν: 2.16b) is a component once in a response in each of three stories. 109 Finally, five responses each contain an instance of information that does not fit in the foregoing schema of categorisation. These instances are best labelled as “other.” 110

E. Combinations of Elements within Responses What sort of patterns are observable in the responses for combinations of elements? In seven responses there is only one type of (main) 111 element

106 Belief, important in Jn generally and in responses there in particular (see the following chapter), does not have the same nature in Lk or play a comparable role in the narrative. At any rate doubt seems to have more of a cognitive sense in Lk (not the case in Mt). ἀπιστῆσαι, thus, might have been included among the instances of the cognitive element. On the other hand, for purposes of comparison later, it is identified on its own as disbelief. 107 Antagonism in these cases is indicated by the speech’s content (Lk 6.11b, 11.15) or another verb (11.16). 108 In Lk 2.20, the object is a relative pronoun (neuter plural). 109 A variant for ἀνευρεῖν in Lk 2.16b is εὑρεῖν (‫א‬c D W etc.). The object is in each case stated at some length: τήν τε Μαριὰμ καὶ τὸν Ἰωσὴφ καὶ τὸ βρέφος κείμενον ἐν τῇ φάτνῃ (2.16b); καθήμενον τὸν ἄνθρωπον ἀφ᾿ οὗ τὰ δαιμόνια ἐξῆλθεν ἱματισμένον καὶ σωφρονοῦντα παρὰ τοὺς πόδας τοῦ Ἰησοῦ (8.35c); ἠθροισμένους τοὺς ἕνδεκα καὶ τοὺς σὺν αὐτοῖς, λέγοντας ὅτι ὄντως ἠγέρθη ὁ κύριος καὶ ὤφθη Σίμωνι (24.33b–34). 110 Three responses contain a sentence constituting background information: ἐξελθὼν δὲ οὐκ ἐδύνατο λαλῆσαι αὐτοῖς (Lk 1.22a); καὶ γὰρ χεὶρ κυρίου ἦν μετ᾿ αὐτοῦ (1.66b); ἦσαν δὲ ἡ Μαγδαληνὴ Μαρία καὶ Ἰωάννα καὶ Μαρία ἡ Ἰακώβου καὶ αἱ λοιπαὶ σὺν αὐταῖς (24.10a). (A statement of a character’s inability to speak [1.22a] has a limited resemblance to reporting [see above, n. 91].) In another case, the additional information provided is a temporal frame preceding the main verb: καὶ ἐγένετο ἐν τῷ διαχωρίζεσθαι αὐτοὺς ἀπ᾿ αὐτοῦ (9.33a). In the fifth instance, respondents’ presence in a given location (the temple) is noted: ἦσαν διὰ παντὸς ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ (Lk 24.53). 111 For the present discussion (Section E) some statements (Lk 1.22a; 1.66b; 9.33a; 24.10a; 24.53) designated as “other” (see above, Section D) are bracketed.

Combinations of Elements within Responses

297

(emotional: 2.9c; 8.56a; 9.34c; 9.43a; 13.17b–c [twice] – verbal: 13.13c; 14.6). With 32 instances of emotions appearing in 25 responses, it is no surprise that they frequently occur in conjunction with other components. The most common collocation is of emotion and speech: both elements are found in 12 responses. (Two thirds [18:27] of the instances of the verbal element, then, occur in responses with emotion). These data and much of the others discussed in this section can be seen in Table 1 and Table 2, below. Seven of the instances of praise are relevant, showing no strong preference for a particular emotion. 112 In the remaining relevant responses amazement occurs more frequently than other emotions. 113 The collocation is found in stories of both epiphany and other sorts of miracles. 114 A collocation of seeing and emotion occurs in nine responses. Amazement and fear / being troubled are equally represented. 115 Thirteen of 18 instances of visual sensation appear in a response with emotion. Worthy of note is that all of the first 10 instances of seeing come in responses with emotions. This establishes a pattern early on. Seeing and speech come together in eight responses. (Twelve of 18 instances of seeing occur in responses where a verbal element is present.) In four responses praise is involved. 116 Thus only four responses with praise do not mention visual sensation. 117 In the seven responses that have both reporting and an emotion, there is one instance more of fear than of amazement. 118 (Eleven of 15 instances of reporting coincide with occurrences of the emotional element.) Seven responses contain both relocation and reporting. 119 (This accounts for 11 of 15 instances of the latter).

112 Fear and praise: Lk 1.64b–66; 7.16–17. Amazement and praise: 2.15b–20 (praise twice). Both fear and amazement with praise: 5.25b–26 (praise twice). Joy and praise: 24.52–53. 113 In responses containing a verbal element that is not praise there are more instances of amazement (4.36–37; 5.8–10a; 11.14c–16) or fear and amazement (8.25b), than fear (8.34–37a), anger (6.11) or “burning hearts” (24.32–35). 114 With praise – epiphany stories: Lk 1.64b–66; 2.15b–20; 24.52–53 – other miracle stories: 5.25b–26; 7.16–17. Other instances of the verbal element – epiphany story: 24.32– 35 – other miracle stories: 4.36–37; 5.8–10a; 6.11; 8.25b; 8.34–37a; 11.14c–16. 115 Fear / being troubled: Lk 1.12; 8.34–37a; 8.47; 24.37. Amazement: 1.21b–22b; 2.15b–20; 5.8–10a; 24.8–12. Both fear and amazement: 5.25b–26. 116 Speech as or including praise: Lk 2.15b–20; 5.25b–26; 17.15; 18.43c. With other types of speech only: 5.8–10a; 8.34–37a; 9.32c–33; 9.36b–c. 117 Lk 1.64b–66; 7.16–17; 13.13c; 24.52–53. 118 Amazement (3 instances): Lk 2.15b–20; 4.36–37; 24.8–12. Fear (4): 1.64b–66; 7.16– 17; 8.34–37a; 8.47. “Burning hearts”: 24.32–35. 119 Lk 2.15b–20; 5.15; 8.34–37a; 8.39b; 8.47; 24.8–12; 24.32–35.

298

Chapter 4: Luke

Cognitive processing occurs in as many responses (6 of 8) with emotion as with seeing. (In each case six of nine instances of the cognitive element are thus accounted for.) The cognitive component occurs with equal frequency with amazement and fear / being troubled. 120 It is noteworthy that the first four responses with a cognitive component also have an emotion. In four of five responses where falling or prostration occur an emotion is present, though there is little similarity between the collocations, including the type of emotion. 121 Perhaps surprisingly, multiple collocations with emotion and speech most frequently have reporting (6 responses), not visual sensation (4 responses). 122 A quadruple collocation of relocation, reporting, emotion and visual sensation occurs in four responses. In addition, relocation, reporting and emotion come together in one other response, making it the second most common collocation. 123 Cognitive processing, emotion and seeing jointly appear in four responses – twice at the beginning and twice at the end of the narrative. 124

F. Relative Priority of Elements Which of the elements, if any, typically receive greater or lesser prominence in the discourse? For a given collocation do the pertinent elements exhibit a pattern of relative priority? The following analysis will show that with regards to relative prominence the responses do not exhibit formal traits. Still

120 Amazement: Lk 1.21b–22b; 2.15b–20; 24.8–12. Fear / being troubled: 1.29; 1.64b– 66; 24.37. The responses with seeing and cognitive acts are: 1.21b–22b; 2.15b–20; 9.32c– 33; 24.8–12; 24.31a–b; 24.37. 121 Joy (Lk 24.52–53), amazement (5.8–10a) and fear (8.47; 24.5a – τρέμειν and ἔμφοβος, respectively, despite the prevalence of words from the root φοβ* in responses) are each relevant. As noted above, varied vocabulary describes posturing of the body toward the ground: προσπεσεῖν (5.8; 8.47b); κλινῆσαι τὸ πρόσωπον (24.5); προσκυνῆσαι (24.52). 122 Emotional, verbal and reporting – without seeing: Lk 1.64b–66; 4.36–37; 7.16–17; 24.32–35 – with seeing: 2.15b–20; 8.34–37a. Seeing, emotion and reporting: 8.47; 24.8– 12. Seeing, emotion and verbal: 5.8–10a; 5.25b–26. There is one instance of the collocation of verbal, reporting and seeing elements without emotion (9.36b–c). I do not specify here the number of instances of each element. It is truly remarkable, given the high frequency at which seeing, verbal and emotional elements individually appear and given the high rate at which any two of these elements collocate, that so few responses contain the triple collocation. 123 Quadruple collocation: Lk 2.15b–20; 8.34–37a; 8.47; 24.8–12. Relocation, reporting and emotion only: 24.32–35. 124 Lk 1.21b–22b; 2.15b–20; 24.8–12; 24.37.

Relative Priority of Elements

299

tendencies can be seen for some elements, whether they receive greater prominence – emotion, movement between locations – or less – seeing. A procedure familiar already (see Section F, above, in Chapter Two and Chapter Three) is used. The relative prominence of elements is represented in Table 1 (see below) according to the following scheme: background material (–); demoted event/action via a subordinated clause (+); a fade-out usage of the imperfect, i.e. a demoted event/action that belongs on the general line of sequential events (FD); an elaboration on a mainline event via a post-nuclear participial clause ( –); mainline event (default level of prominence) ( ); highlighted mainline event ( +). The letter S refers to elements that are contained in embedded speech (5.26c; 24.32). Additionally, I use the minus sign (–) to represent: a verb in a genitive absolute frame (i.e. pre-nuclear) (Lk 24.5a; 24.41a); an adverbial used in such a frame (24.41a); a substantive (2.18; 8.36). In three cases a plus sign (+) denotes: an adverbial pertinent to a mainline event (2.20 [twice]); or a subordinate clause specifying the object of cognitive processing (1.22b; 9.33). Once a check mark with a minus sign ( –) represents a post-nuclear infinitive clause (8.35). Verbs in a redundant quotative frame, constituting one instance of the verbal element, are represented just once in Table 1. 125 In six instances the negation of an element is indicated by parentheses. Again I note that, though one could further differentiate between levels of dependence within less prominent material, the data analysed here are sufficient for the present purposes. In absolute numbers the instances of mainline events ( +, ) for the most frequent elements are: emotional (16); movement between locations (14); reporting (7); verbal (6); cognitive (5); seeing (3); falling (2). In relative numbers, movement (14:17) most commonly appears as mainline events. Roughly half of the instances of three other elements are mainline events: cognitive (5:9), emotional (16:32) and reporting (7:15). Falling (2:5), verbal (6:26) and, especially, seeing (3:18) are the least often to have a default level of prominence in the narrative. Note that just one of 11 instances of praise is a mainline event (Lk 18.43c).

125

Two other instances of pairs of verbs (1.66; 2.19) are treated as one instance of a given element – see above for justification.

300

Chapter 4: Luke

Table 1a: Relative prominence of elements in responses (Lk 1–8)

+

,–

– –

–

+, +

–

S

,– , –

–

FD

,–

–

Reporting

+

S, +, +

Seeing

–

, –,

,

–

–

–

–

Verbal

,

–

,

Movement

, +

+

Falling –

–

Cognitive Belief Testing

+, +

Bodily motions

Finding –

–

Other

–, +

–

Hearing

8.56a

8.47

8.39b

8.34–37a

–

–

,

+,

7.16–17

FD

8.25b

6.11

5.25b–26

5.15

5.11

5.8–10a

4.36–37

–,

+

2.15b–20

–

–

2.9c

,

1.64b–66

1.21b–22b

+

1.29

1.12 Emotional

301

Relative Priority of Elements

Table 1b: Relative prominence of elements in responses (Lk 9–24)

–, –

–

24.41a

–, –

–, –

–

24.37

S

24.52–53

24.32–35

24.31a–b

,–

–

,

–

–,

24.8–12

18.43b–c

–

24.5a

17.15–16

)

(–)

+

14.6

–

–, –

13.13c

,–

– (

,+

Verbal

13.17b–c

11.14c–16

9.43a

9.36b–c

9.34c

9.32c–33 Emotional

–

–

+

+

–

Seeing

( )

Reporting

+, +

,

–

Movement

+

+

–

Falling ( ) –

+

+, +

Bodily motions

(–)

(–)

Belief Testing

–

,

–

Cognitive

Hearing Finding –

–

Other

302

Chapter 4: Luke

The seven responses with only one type of element (2.9c; 8.56a; 9.34c; 9.43a; 13.13c; 13.17b–c; 14.6) are bracketed in the analysis that follows. When there are multiple instances of one or more elements involved, I use the most prominent instance(s) of each element to determine, for a given collocation, which component is more/most prominent. Emotions tend to be more prominent than speech, 126 as prominent as seeing, 127 reporting 128 and cognition, 129 but less prominent than movement. 130 The relation of emotion to seeing is interesting, since given all 18 instances of the latter, as noted above, it very rarely receives a default level of prominence. Nevertheless, few responses (6 of 19) do not contain an emotional component that is not as or more prominent than all instances of the other elements. 131 Visual sensation is almost always less prominent than speech (in 7 of 8 responses) 132 and on average as prominent as cognitive acts 133 and, as just mentioned, emotion. Still, in the majority of responses (11 of 14) it is not (among) the most prominent component(s). Movement is on average more prominent than reporting. 134 With one exception movement is as prominent or more than the other element(s) in a given response (11 of 12 responses). 135 126 In seven of the 12 responses containing the collocation one or more instances of emotion receive greater prominence than the instance(s) of the verbal element. In 2 responses this relation is reversed, while in 3 responses the level of prominence is equal (for the most prominent instance). 127 In four of nine responses containing the collocation, one more instances of emotion receive greater prominence than the instance(s) of seeing. Three times the relation is reversed. Twice the level of prominence is equal (for the most prominent instance). 128 Emotions with greater prominence: Lk 1.64b–66; 4.36–37. Reporting with greater prominence: 8.47; 24.8–12; 24.32–35. Equal level of prominence for both components: 2.15b–20; 7.16–17; 8.34–37a. 129 Emotions with greater prominence: Lk 1.29; 2.15b–20. Cognition with greater prominence: 1.21b–22b; 24.8–12. Equal level of prominence for both components: 1.64b–66; 24.37. 130 Movement with greater prominence: Lk 8.47; 24.8–12; 24.32–35; 24.52–53. Equal level of prominence for both movement and emotion: 2.15b–20; 5.25b–26; 8.34–37a. 131 The six exceptions are: Lk 1.21b–22b; 5.8–10a; 8.47; 24.8–12; 24.32–35; 24.52–53. Note of the four responses with falling and emotion, the former has more prominence than the latter (5.8–10a; 24.52–53) or as much as it (8.47; 24.5a). 132 Speech with greater prominence: Lk 2.15b–20; 5.8–10a; 5.25b–26; 8.34–37a; 9.36b– c; 17.15–16; 18.43b–c. Equal level of prominence for both components: 9.32c–33. 133 Seeing with greater prominence: Lk 2.15b–20. Cognition with greater prominence: 1.21b–22b. Equal level of prominence for both components: 24.8–12; 24.31a–b; 24.37. 134 Seven responses are in view. Movement with greater prominence: Lk 8.39b; 24.8– 12; 24.32–35. Equal level of prominence for both movement and reporting: 2.15b–20; 5.15; 8.34–37a; 8.47.

Order of Appearance of Elements

303

Praise, which as noted above is rarely a mainline event, comes as either background material (5 of 10 instances) or as a post-nuclear participle modifying a mainline event (4). 136 A few further observations on relatively frequent collocations are in order, though in each case the instances are few. In five of the six responses containing the triple collocation of emotional, verbal and reporting elements, (an) emotion receives as much (2.15b–20; 7.16–17; 8.34–37a) or more (1.64b–66; 4.36–37) prominence than either or both of the other two components. 137 In all four responses containing emotion, seeing, reporting and relocation, the last two mentioned of these are always at least among the most prominent of the four (2.15b–20; 8.34–37a; 24.8–12) or more prominent than the other two (8.47). 138 In three of four responses containing cognitive, emotional and seeing elements, reference to cognition receives more prominence (1.21b–22b) or as much prominence as the most prominent of the other two elements (24.8–12; 24.37). 139 There is no overall pattern to the distribution of prominence among the elements. Nevertheless, the analysis confirms the importance of emotions for the responses, by noting its prominence in various respects. I have also observed that typically movement receives more prominence in the discourse than other elements and both seeing and praise are relatively less prominent.

G. Order of Appearance of Elements In this section I consider the 28 responses that contain two or more elements. I will demonstrate that emotion, speech, visual sensation, reporting and movement occur in particular locations within the responses, whether abso-

135 The one exception is Lk 18.43b–c. In fact one might add that all instances of movement are as or more prominent than other elements, with one further exception (the first instance of it in 24.8–12). 136 These data, which are not specified in Table 1, are as follows. Praise as background material: Lk 1.64b; 5.26b; 7.16b; 18.43b; 24.53. Praise modifying a mainline event: 2.20 (2 instances); 5.25b; 17.15. Note that the instance in 18.43b is also a post-nuclear participle, though it modifies a verb in the imperfect. Participles specifying praise occur in conjunction with related verbs in two of the remaining instances (1.64b; 24.53). All the aforementioned occurrences are of participles with imperfective aspect. Thus only two of 11 instances of praise do not involve such a participle. 137 In the response that is the exception (Lk 24.32–35) visual sensation is mentioned in direct speech. 138 In two instances the emotion is not among the most prominent element. 139 In the exception (Lk 2.15b–20) the emotion is more prominent than the seeing and cognitive elements.

304

Chapter 4: Luke

lutely or with respect to other elements in collocations. This observation holds true especially for emotion, speech and visual sensation. Thus, the following analysis shows that, to a limited extent, there is a formal quality to the responses in Luke. Considerations of relative priority further support the idea. Fourteen of the 20 responses containing emotion have one (or two) instances of the emotional element in the initial position (9 responses: 1.21b– 22b; 1.29; 4.36–37; 6.11; 7.16–17; 8.25b [two]; 11.14c–16; 24.5a; 24.37 [two]) in the final position (4 responses: 5.8–10a; 8.34–37a; 24.8–12; 24.41a [two]) or in both places (1 response: 1.12). 140 Even more of the relevant responses noting visual sensation (11 of 14) have the said element first (6 responses: 5.8–10a; 8.34–37a; 8.47; 9.32c–33; 17.15–16; 24.31a–b) or last (5 responses: 1.21b–22b; 2.15b–20; 5.25b–26; 9.36b–c; 24.37). 141 When initial, an aorist participle of ἰδεῖν as a pre-nuclear participle is common (4:6). 142 When final, visual perception is referred to in direct or in indirect speech (2.20; 5.26) as the content of reporting (9.36c) or the object of cognition (1.22b; 24.37). (This accounts for all but one of such cases [2.15b – seeing in direct speech].) Of the nine responses in which the collocation of emotional and verbal elements occurs and represent the actions of the same character 143 six have the former precede the latter immediately (4.36–37; 5.25b–26 [for two pairs]; 144 6.11; 7.16–17; 8.25b [two instances of emotion come first]) or with one ele140

Note that in only three of the 20 responses (Lk 1.29; 6.11; 24.5a) is there merely a binary option (just one instance each of two elements). In three cases an emotion comes second in a response of at least four elements (1.64b–66; 8.47; 24.32–35). The remaining three responses have emotion(s) elsewhere in the middle (2.15b–20; 5.25b–26 (two); 24.52–53. (This accounts for all instances of emotions in the said responses, save the first instance in 8.34–37a [i.e. 8.35d].) 141 Note that in only one of the 14 responses (Lk 24.31a–b) are there just one instance each of two elements. Thus the discussion here concerns primarily more than binary possibilities. The three responses having (just one instance of) seeing elsewhere are: 1.12; 18.43b–c; 24.8–12. (This accounts for all instances of seeing in the said responses, save two elsewhere in each of 2.15b–20 [i.e. 2.15b, 17] and 8.34–37a [i.e. 8.35a, 36].) 142 With aorist participle: ἰδών (5.8; 17.15), ἰδοῦσα (8.47), ἰδόντες (8.34). The remaining cases are: εἶδον (9.32c); αὐτῶν δὲ διηνοίχθησαν οἱ ὀφθαλμοί (24.31a). 143 Thus three responses with the said collocation are not considered for the moment (Lk 1.64b–66; 2.15b–20; 11.14c–16). The verbal and emotional elements represent the actions of essentially the same characters in 5.8–10a (Peter; Peter and his companions). (Something similar occurs in Mk 9.5–6, the only other response in which the actions of [slightly] different characters are represented in the collocation.) 144 The second pair (Lk 5.26c) clearly belong together, with the nuclear verb denoting the emotion and the post-nuclear participle providing the speech. It seems reasonable to see 5.26a–b as a pair of emotion and speech also.

Order of Appearance of Elements

305

ment intervening (24.52–53). A variety of emotions are represented: amazement (4.36; 5.26a–b), fear (5.26c; 7.16), both fear and amazement (8.25b), joy (24.52–53), anger (6.11). The norm is that finite verbs (plus a noun, where relevant) represent each element type. Occasionally speech is introduced with a participle only: ἐπλήσθησαν φόβου λέγοντες... (5.26c); φοβηθέντες δὲ ἐθαύμασαν λέγοντες... (8.25b). Once the emotion is merely an adverbial (24.52–53). A common form of expression is used in the two instances where an emotion immediately precedes praise: καὶ ἔκστασις ἔλαβεν ἅπαντας καὶ ἐδόξαζον τὸν θεόν (5.26a–b); ἔλαβεν δὲ φόβος πάντας καὶ ἐδόξαζον τὸν θεὸν λέγοντες... (7.16).

As a mainline event the emotion, expressed as a noun (ἔκστασις, φόβος), takes a hold of all (ἅπαντας, πάντας). A verbatim four-word phrase then depicts praise, a demoted event. Once direct speech follows. (Similarity of phraseology is seen in two other responses, where an emotion is immediately followed by speech, though there the second component differs [verbal; reporting]). 145 All three of the responses where the ordering of the collocation is reversed have the (verb denoting the) 146 speech immediately preceding the emotion (5.8–10a; 8.34–37a; 24.32–35). In two cases the emotion comes within explanatory material, introduced by γάρ (5.9–10a) or ὅτι (8.37a), related to the speech. 147 Different emotions are relevant – amazement: 5.8–10a – fear: 8.37a – burning hearts: 24.32. Here too finite verbs tend to represent the respective elements. 148 Thus for responses containing the two said elements there is a strong tendency for them to appear with no other components intervening (in total six such pairs have the emotion initial; three have speech initial).

145 In Lk 1.65 and 4.36 a phrase employing ἐγένετο(...) ἐπὶ πάντας and the emotion as a noun (φόβος, θάμβος) is followed by a sentence with an imperfect of a verb with the root λαλ* (διελαλεῖτο, συνελάλουν). 146 Note in Lk 24.32–35 the emotion is found within the speech. 147 Therefore the ordered pair verbal-emotional is defining in Lk 8.34–37a, though a case could be made for a pairing of the first indication of emotion (8.35d) and the speech (8.37a), as was done in Section G of Chapter Two, above, for Mk 5.14–17. 148 In Lk 5.8 speech is introduced with a participle only and in 24.32 the emotion is mentioned within direct speech.

306

Chapter 4: Luke

Table 2: Order of appearance of elements 149 1.12 1.21b–22b 1.29 1.64b–66 2.9c 2.15b–20 4.36–37 5.8–10a 5.11 5.15 5.25b–26 6.11 7.16–17 8.25b 8.34–37a 8.39b 8.47 8.56a 9.32c–33 9.34c 9.36b–c 9.43a 11.14c–16 13.13c 13.17b–c 14.6 17.15–16 18.43b–c 24.5a 24.8–12 24.31a–b 24.32–35 24.37 24.41a 24.52–53

emotion emotion emotion praise emotion verbal emotion seeing emotion seeing bodily report move emotion emotion emotion seeing emotion move seeing* emotion seeing emotion verbal emotion emotion praise emotion verbal seeing move emotion cognit bodily seeing* verbal emotion unbelief falling

seeing other cognit emotion

emotion cognit

seeing

report

cognit

hearing

other

seeing report

move cognit

finding move

seeing praise

report praise

hearing hearing

verbal falling bodily move praise verbal praise emotion move report report emotion

report verbal move

emotion

emotion

praise

emotion

verbal

seeing

report verbal report seeing

move verbal

see emotion

move

finding

move

falling

report

other

verbal

cognit

verbal

report

seeing

verbal

testing

verbal

praise seeing

falling praise

verbal

report bodily

other seeing

report move

cognit emotion

unbelief

bodily cognit emotion emotion

move seeing

finding

report

report

other

praise

emotion move praise falling move move cognit emotion emotion emotion move

149 “Move” = movement between locations; “cognit” = cognitive; “falling” = falling/prostrating; “bodily” = other bodily motions. “Seeing*” (with an asterisk) indicates that cognitive activity is also involved. While praise is specified in the table, in the analysis, generally, it is considered to be one type of the verbal element.

Order of Appearance of Elements

307

In the seven responses containing seeing and emotion and in which they represent the actions of the same character, 150 surprisingly, the elements occur side by side just twice, with little similarity (for seeing the lexeme, participial form and aspect is shared): ἐταράχθη... ἰδὼν καὶ φόβος ἐπέπεσεν ἐπ᾿ αὐτόν (1.12); ἰδοῦσα... τρέμουσα... (8.47). Otherwise the elements are separated by one or two components; again there is little similarity between the instances. 151 Seeing comes first in four cases (twice with an aorist participle) and the emotion is initial in the other three. In the seven responses which have the collocation of seeing and speech (8 instances), representing the actions of the same character, 152 the order is as often one way as the other. When seeing precedes speech there is a tendency for the pre-nuclear participle ἰδών (5.8; 17.15; 18.43c – the other instance [9.32c–33] has εἶδον). Twice the elements are (essentially) adjacent (9.32c– 33 [a temporal phrase with καὶ ἐγένετο intervenes]; 18.43), twice another component is between them (5.8 [with falling]; 17.15 [with movement]). In three of the four cases where speech comes first, visual perception is referred to in direct or in indirect speech (2.15b, 20; 5.26; cf. 9.36b–c, where seeing is part of [non-]reporting). Language use in these cases does not bear a formal trait. 153 In all six responses containing movement and reporting and in which the actions of the same character is involved, the (initial instance of each of the) components appear in that order. 154 Three times they are adjacent. 155 Alternatively one or two elements come in between. 156

150 Thus 2 responses with seeing and emotional elements are excluded (Lk 1.21b–22b; 2.15b–20). 151 One component intervenes: καὶ ἐπλήσθησαν φόβου λέγοντες ὅτι εἴδομεν παράδοξα σήμερον; (5.26c – with speech); βλέπει... καὶ ἀπῆλθεν... θαυμάζων... (24.8–12 – with movement); πτοηθέντες... καὶ ἔμφοβοι γενόμενοι ἐδόκουν πνεῦμα θεωρεῖν (24.37 – with cognition). Two components intervene: ἰδὼν... προσέπεσεν... λέγων... θάμβος γὰρ περιέσχεν... (5.8–10a – with falling and speech); ἐξῆλθον... ἰδεῖν... καὶ ἦλθον... καὶ εὗρον... καὶ ἐφοβήθησαν (8.35 – with movement and “finding”). 152 One response with seeing and verbal elements is excluded (Lk 8.34–37a). 153 Seeing within speech: ἐλάλουν... ἴδωμεν (Lk 2.15b); δοξάζοντες καὶ αἰνοῦντες... ἐπὶ πᾶσιν οἷς... εἶδον (2.20); λέγοντες... εἴδομεν... (5.26). Within reporting: ἐσίγησαν καὶ οὐδενὶ ἀπήγγειλαν... οὐδὲν ὧν ἑώρακαν (9.36b–c). 154 The remaining instance of the collocation has the order reversed (Lk 5.15). Reporting, generic here, is followed by movement towards Jesus by those who hear about him. 155 Lk 8.34: ἔφυγον καὶ ἀπήγγειλαν; 8.39b: ἀπῆλθεν... κηρύσσων; 24.9: ὑποστρέψασαι... ἀπήγγειλαν. The relations in terms of prominence are varied. 156 One: ἦλθεν καὶ προσπεσοῦσα... ἀπήγγειλεν (Lk 8.47). Two: ἦλθαν σπεύσαντες καὶ ἀνεῦραν... ἰδόντες δὲ ἐγνώρισαν (2.16–17); ὑπέστρεψαν... καὶ εὗρον... (τοὺς ἕνδεκα καὶ τοὺς σὺν αὐτοῖς λέγοντας...) καὶ... ἐξηγοῦντο (24.34–35). An interesting feature of the

308

Chapter 4: Luke

Four of the seven responses containing both movement and speech (four of five with praise) have a formulaic composition, with the former expressed as a finite verb and the latter being a post-nuclear participle of δοξάσαι (and, in one case, also αἰνέσαι) with τὸν θεόν: ὑπέστρεψαν... δοξάζοντες καὶ αἰνοῦντες τὸν θεόν... (2.20); ἀπῆλθεν... δοξάζων τὸν θεόν (5.25b); ὑπέστρεψεν... δοξάζων τὸν θεόν (17.15); ἠκολούθει... δοξάζων τὸν θεόν (18.43b).

This accounts for all instances in which movement is immediately followed by speech. 157 Considering also relative prominence, these responses are the only ones to contain praise as a participle modifying a mainline event. 158 Each of the three instances of finding follows immediately after movement between locations – both components are mainline events. 159 Little pattern is seen for collocations of three or four components. And, for whatever pattern is detectable, no formal resemblance is evident. Of the five responses containing emotion, relocation and reporting, the emotion precedes the other two components when the same character is involved (twice); it follows them, however, when the emotion pertains to another character. 160 Movement precedes reporting in each case. Four of these responses contain reference to visual sensation as well. In three cases it comes before the other elements related to the character in question. 161 Four of the six responses with emotion, speech and reporting have the last mentioned of these appear last. 162 In three of the four relevant responses the order cognition-emotion-seeing is

last instance is that the act of reporting by the pair of characters in question is preceded by other characters’ reporting (placed in parentheses above). 157 Related is one of two instances where movement is followed by reporting: ἀπῆλθεν... κηρύσσων... (Lk 8.39b). 158 See above, n. 136. 159 Lk 2.16: ἦλθαν σπεύσαντες καὶ ἀνεῦραν.... 8.35b–c: ἦλθον... καὶ εὗρον.... 24.33: ὑπέστρεψαν... καὶ εὗρον.... 160 Emotion-movement-reporting: Lk 8.47; 24.32–35. Movement-reporting-emotion: 2.15b–20; 8.34–37a; 24.8–12. 161 With one character: seeing, emotion, movement... reporting (8.47). (In what follows, the actions of a second character are italicised.) Lk 2.15b–20: ...seeing, movement... seeing, reporting... emotion, reporting... movement... Lk 8.34–37a: seeing, movement, reporting... emotion; reporting, seeing... emotion (in the second iteration of the pattern, seeing does not come first). Lk 24.8–12: ...movement, reporting... movement... seeing, movement, emotion. (Note the situation in a number of responses is complicated by the fact that there are numerous instances of various components.) 162 Verbal-emotional-reporting: Lk 1.64b–66; 24.32–35. Emotional-verbal-reporting: 4.36–37; 7.16–17. Some other order: 2.15b–20; 8.34–37a.

Order of Appearance of Elements

309

found. 163 In each case seeing is the response’s absolute last element. The four responses with seeing, emotional and verbal elements present them in a variety of sequences. The foregoing discussion allows for a further comment on seeing. In seven of 14 responses where it occurs, it is first in a distinct series of actions. 164 In five of the cases a pre-nuclear aorist participle of ἰδεῖν is used, followed (usually immediately) by an element that consitutes the mainline event (falling; movement [three times]; speech) and often then also by other elements: ἰδὼν... προσέπεσεν... λέγων... θάμβος γὰρ περιέσχεν... (5.8); ἰδόντες... ἔφυγον... καὶ ἀπήγγειλαν... (8.34–37a); ἰδοῦσα... τρέμουσα... ἦλθεν... καὶ προσπεσοῦσα... ἀπήγγειλεν (8.47); ἰδὼν... ὑπέστρεψεν... δοξάζων... καὶ ἔπεσεν... εὐχαριστῶν... (17.15); ἰδὼν ἔδωκεν αἶνον... (18.43c).

In one of the two other relevant responses the same lexeme for visual sensation is used – now a mainline event – which is followed by another mainline event (speech) and further elements: εἶδον... καὶ ἐγένετο... εἶπεν... μὴ εἰδὼς ὃ λέγει (9.32c–33).

The remaining response, having two mainline events, employs a different verb for seeing: αὐτῶν δὲ διηνοίχθησαν οἱ ὀφθαλμοὶ καὶ ἐπέγνωσαν αὐτόν (24.31a).

Thus among the seven of 14 responses where seeing comes first in a series of actions, a (semi-)formal pattern is observable, though with no relation to the most common collocations. In the foregoing analysis, two points of interest have emerged, each of which I will summarise at some length, owing to the large amount of material covered. On the one hand, various features regarding relative prominence reveal formal aspects of the responses. Emotions commonly appear: in absolute terms, first or last; where the collocation is relevant, immediately adjacent to speech. Visual sensation is also often first or last absolutely. When in final position or as the second element in a collocation with speech, seeing commonly appears within direct or indirect speech (or thought). Furthermore, visual sensation frequently comes as the first element in a distinct series of 163

Cognitive processing-emotion-seeing: Lk 1.21b–22b; 2.15b–20; 24.37. The exception is 24.8–12 (cognitive-seeing-emotion). 164 Lk 18.43c, in addition to the 6 responses in which seeing comes first absolutely (see above). Note for all instances of seeing in responses, regardless of it being initial or not in a distinct series of actions, there is no general pattern to which element it precedes. It comes immediately before movement four times (Lk 2.15b–16a; 8.34; 17.15; 24.12b–c) and other elements either once or twice (e.g. verbal: 9.32c–33; 18.43c – emotional: 1.12; 8.47).

310

Chapter 4: Luke

actions. In such a context or in an absolute initial position, a pre-nuclear aorist participle of ἰδεῖν is commonly employed. Thus a pattern of relative prominence coincides with a pattern of order. In addition to what has been noted in the immediate foregoing about speech in collocation with emotion or seeing, the analysis has shown that praise, in particular, when collocating with movement appears: with specific lexemes and phraseology; and, in relation to movement, with a common order, immediate proximity and relative prominence. In collocation with reporting, movement always occurs first. On the other hand, not only does no over-riding pattern with respect to the order of elements occur, but also my observations about indications of formality become tempered. This tempering results from recognition of the fact that the phenomena discussed are relatively uncommon in relation to the large number of responses in Luke. Quality, too, plays a role here. Even the most commonly appearing elements do not exhibit patterns that are especially noteworthy either for their quality or consistency. 165

H. Characters Responding As in the corresponding sections of the previous two chapters, the focus here is on the question “Who?” More attention is given to issues of characterisation in Section Q, below. Some 30 characters respond in the miracle stories. Jesus is not one of them. One story contains only a generic response, with no specific characters identified (5.15). The seven respondents in miracle stories prior to Jesus’ adulthood can be addressed separately, as they come from an earlier generation 166 and the episodes they appear in – with one main, brief exception for Mary 167 – occur only in a distinct section at the beginning of the narrative. 168 The other exception is “the people” in the opening story, a character who can at least loosely be associated with a collective character, appearing later, referred to at times with the same term. Four other characters 165 A difference between the data in Lk and those in Mt provides an illustration of the limits of formal traits in Lk. In Mt both movement and seeing typically come first absolutely. In Lk emotion and seeing each commonly come either first or last absolutely. 166 A number of important characters at the narrative’s opening are described as aged (Elisabeth, Zechariah, Simeon, Anna) and can reasonably be assumed to no longer be living when Jesus begins his ministry in the Galilee. 167 Only Mary appears again, ever so briefly (Lk 8.19), in the remainder of the narrative. 168 Zechariah (Lk 1.12; 1.22a; 1.64b); the “people” (1.21b, 22b); Mary (1.29; 2.19); neighbours and relatives of Zechariah and Elisabeth (1.65a); others in the hill country of Judea (1.65b–66); shepherds (2.9c; 2.15b–17, 20); an unknown number of characters (πάντες) who hear the shepherds, likely including relatives of Mary and Joseph (2.18).

Characters Responding

311

are also groups of unnamed individuals: neighbours and relatives of Elisabeth and Zechariah; others in the hill country of Judea; shepherds; an unknown number in Bethlehem, probably including relatives of Mary and/or Joseph. Two of the seven, named individuals, Zechariah and Mary, number among those portrayed as having a strong sense of piety. They alone are respondents in more than one of the miracle stories in the opening sequence. Concerning the remainder of the miracle stories, some interesting details come to light when a distinction is made among the 23 respondents 169 between followers and non-followers. As for followers, in two or three stories characters become followers through their act of responding to a miracle. Once or twice the respondents (Bartimaeus; probably the man freed from Legion) do not appear again in the narrative. The character group (Peter, James and John) from the third story appears again twice in the narrative, both times in miracle stories (once as a respondent). (Note in each case where Peter, James and John respond, Peter has a more active role than the others.) And individuals from the trio take active roles elsewhere also. Once Peter, acting on his own, again responds in a miracle story. More commonly characters already established as followers (whether their becoming followers of Jesus is narrated or not) respond in miracle stories: the “disciples”; the “Eleven and those with them;” the Eleven; Cleopas and another disciple (not belonging to the Eleven); Mary Magdalene, Joanna and Mary “of Jacob,” along with other women. In one response the division between followers and non-followers does not hold: a group of disciples and a large crowd jointly respond (7.16–17). Occa169 The crowd in the Capernaum synagogue (4.36–37); Peter, James and John (5.8–10a; 5.11; 9.32c–33; 9.34c; 9.36b–c – in both stories James and John are described as companions of Peter [κοινωνοὶ τῷ Σίμωνι: 5.10; οἱ σὺν αὐτῷ: 9.32] and Peter plays a more pronounced role); a crowd (5.15b; 9.43; 11.14c; 13.17c; 18.43c [lit. the “people,” though cf. 18.36]); the man healed of paralysis (5.25b); the Pharisees and scribes (5.26 [the suppliants and possibly others are likely also involved]; 6.11; 14.6 [here lit. Pharisees and legal experts; cf. 11.37–54 on the scribes’ association to legal experts]); disciples and two crowds, one consisting of mourners from Nain (7.16–17); the “disciples” (8.25b; 24.37; 24.41a; 24.52–53 – in the latter story lit. all the disciples assembled with the Eleven are in view); pig herders (8.34, 36); those from the city of Gerasa and surrounding fields (8.35, 37a); man formerly possessed by Legion (8.39b); woman healed from an issue of blood (8.47); Jairus and his wife (8.56a); “some” from crowd (11.15); “others” from crowd (11.16); woman healed from a back condition (13.13c); Jesus’ “opponents” (13.17b – the characters, including a synagogue leader, are not easily identified); Samaritan healed of leprosy (17.15–16a); Bartimaeus (18.43b); Mary Magdalene, Joanna and Mary “of Jacob,” along with a number of other unspecified women (24.5a; 24.8–10); apostles, that is the Eleven (24.11); Peter (24.12 – here his role is clearly distinguished from the others); Cleopas and another disciple, both not apostles (24.31a–b; 24.32–33, 35); the Eleven and “those with them” (24.34).

312

Chapter 4: Luke

sionally non-followers who oppose Jesus respond in miracle stories: the Pharisees and the scribes (or legal experts); a group of “opponents,” including a synagogue leader; and two different subgroups of a crowd (in one story). Less than welcoming responses come also from: Gentile pig herders; those from Gerasa and the surrounding fields. Two other characters are groups: those in the Capernaum synagogue; the “crowd” or “people,” present in a number of stories. There are also responses from four individuals and one couple: the man healed of paralysis; the woman healed of a hematological problem; Jairus and his wife; the woman healed of a back condition; the Samaritan healed of leprosy. Of the non-followers, only the crowd, on the one hand, and the Pharisees together with their learned accomplices, on the other, appear in more than one story. Non-followers are respondents in only healing and exorcism stories. Followers, on the other hand, are respondents in stories of: healing, a miraculous catch of fish, a rescue nature miracle and epiphanies. In stories of epiphany or that contain an epiphanic element only established followers are respondents. With one exception (7.16–17) these are also the only stories in which established followers respond. Thus there are two strong, contrasting associations of established followers and epiphany stories, on the one hand, and nonfollowers with stories of healing and exorcism, on the other. Those who are relationally the closest to Jesus have privileged access to epiphanies.

I. Functional Roles of Respondents Consideration of the functional roles of the respondents provides further support for the pattern of differentiation between the epiphany stories and the related rescue nature miracle story, on the one hand, and the remaining miracle stories, on the other. It was noted in Section D, above, that fear / being troubled is the most frequently occurring emotion in the former group of stories, while, conversely, in the latter group, responses with emotions typically contain either amazement alone or joy/praise, often accompanied by another emotion. 170 In this way amazement is more characteristic of the nonepiphanic stories. In applying the categories of recipient, observer and hearer to all eight of the epiphany stories and the rescue nature miracle story, a complementary pattern emerges with respect to emotions. In these stories only recipients respond with fear and/or being troubled. In fact recipients in seven of the stories respond with such emotion: Zechariah (1.12); Mary, Jesus’ mother (1.29b); the shepherds (2.9c); the disciples in the boat (8.25b); 170

I make explicit here something not mentioned in Section D. In six stories of healing and exorcism praise or joy is found. In five additional stories amazement alone occurs.

Functional Roles of Respondents

313

Peter, James and John (9.34c); Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary “of Jacob” and the others (24.5a); the apostles and the other disciples with them (24.37). Conversely, when any emotion is associated with those who have heard about an epiphany, it is always amazement: the “people” (1.21b); those who hear the shepherds’ report (2.18); Peter (24.12c). Just twice recipients experience both fear and amazement (8.25b; 24.37 and 24.41a). Thus fear / being troubled is associated more closely with the experience of an epiphany. In stories of healing and exorcism, on the other hand, such a distinction between emotions in responses based on the roles of respondents is not found. Fear or amazement (once both) is associated with either recipients or observers. 171 In neither case where those who hear about the miracles from others are respondents do emotions occur. 172 Nor does consideration of joy and praise in light of functional roles bring the aforementioned pattern of differentiation into starker relief. While the two instances of praise (once with joy) in epiphany stories come as the emotions of recipients (Lk 2.20; 24.52–53), in non-epiphanic contexts recipients alone praise God (1.64b; 17.15) or do so along with observers (5.25b–26; 7.16; 13.13c and 13.17c [joy]; 18.43b–c). In the latter case the two characters’ acts of praise (or, once, joy) may be indicated separately (Lk 5.25b–26; 13.13c and 13.17c; 18.43b–c) or the recipient is not singled out among those praising God (7.16). Still, the foregoing analysis reinforces the differentiation between miracle story types based on emotions. Fear / being troubled is closely associated with epiphanies – that is, with the experience of epiphanies. This type of emotion is almost always part of the recipients’ response and, thus, is characteristic of these stories. In contrast amazement, being not characteristic of epiphany stories, becomes even more closely associated with the nonepiphanic episodes, in which recipients and observers commonly experience that emotion. Analysis of the functional roles of the respondents in the responses, on the other hand, does not provide additional support for the pattern of differentiation among miracle story types identified in Section H, above, based on a distinction between established followers other characters. Still, it can now be specified that, for the period in the narrative concerning Jesus’ adult life, fear / being troubled in a response is characteristic of only established followers as recipients in epiphany stories. 171 Recipients – fear: woman healed of an issue of blood (Lk 8.47) – amazement: Jairus and his wife (8.56a). Observers – fear: the neighbours and relatives of Elisabeth and Zechariah (1.65a); the disciples and a crowd near Nain (7.16–17); those from Gerasa and the surrounding area (8.35d) – amazement: those in the Capernaum synagogue (4.36a); crowd (9.43a; 11.14c) – both amazement and fear: Pharisees and scribes (5.26). 172 Hearers are respondents in Lk 1.66; 5.15b.

314

Chapter 4: Luke

J. Setting A pattern is seen when the settings of the miracle stories with responses are considered in terms of their proximity to village- or city-centres. During the period of Jesus’ adult activity prior to his crucifixion the miracles to which the early disciples are respondents happen in a boat (5.8–10a; 5.11; 173 8.25b) or on a mountain (9.32–33; 9.34c; 9.36b–c). Two of these are characterised by or contain an epiphanic element. The remaining miracles with responses in this part of the narrative, being healings and exorcisms, occur typically in synagogues (4.36–37; 6.11; 13.13c; 13.17b–c), houses (5.25b–26; 8.56a; 14.6; cf. 4.39c), in unspecified places within towns and cities (5.15; probably 8.47; cf. 7.9), entering towns and cities (7.16–17; 17.15; 18.43b–c) and in an area that, though unspecified, may also be populated or, at least, less removed from urban centres (9.43). 174 Alternatively one exorcism occurs away from a city. 175 But even here in both responses (8.34–37; 8.39b) a city setting is involved. For another exorcism a location is not specified (11.14c–16). After Jesus’s crucifixion, however, all of the epiphany stories that ensue are associated with towns and cities. While in some cases the responses contain movement to and from houses (24.8–12; 24.32–35 [also between urban centres]), the key events in them take place not underway, but in the houses and, in the first case, at the tomb also. In other cases the response occurs only in a house (24.31a–b; 24.37; 24.41a) or at the tomb (24.5a). In the remaining story, the narrative’s end, the disciples’ response takes them from the Mount of Olives to the temple precincts (24.52–53). This focus on urban areas bears some similarity to the epiphany stories at the narrative’s beginning. Jerusalem and Nazareth are where Gabriel appears. Zechariah responds inside the temple (1.12) and the “people” in the temple precincts (1.21b–22b). Mary responds in what is presumably a domicile (1.29). A large number of angels appear in fields, where the shepherds first respond (2.9c). The second response in that story (2.15b–20), however, has the shepherds moving from the fields to a house in Bethlehem and returning to the field. Finally, the healing of Zechariah occurs at, presumably, the couple’s house, while the response continues from there into the surrounding area (1.64b–66). A further connection, regarding setting, between the narratives’ opening and ending is that the 173

Note in the concluding response (Lk 5.11) the disciples and Jesus leave the boat. However it is not specified where they go. What is important is that the former follow the latter. 174 The location of the exorcism of the boy is contrasted with secluded location of the transfiguration. 175 The encounter between Jesus and the man controlled by Legion may occur on the shore of the lake. At any rate the man is described as “from the city” (8.27) and information is given that he no longer lives there, but in tombs.

Setting

315

temple is the or a key location for the first and last stories, both of which are epiphanic. Consideration of whether the setting is public or private brings some support to light for the pattern observed. During Jesus’ adult ministry the miracles to which the early disciples are respondents occur in semi-private (5.8– 10a; 5.11) 176 or, for the two epiphanic stories, private settings (8.25b; 9.32– 33; 9.34c; 9.36b–c). In contrast the healings and exorcisms are typically portrayed as occurring in public settings, whether the idea is inherent in the physical location (synagogue; streets within or entering into a city), or indicated through the presence of many people (in a house: 5.25b–26; cf. 4.39c – elsewhere: 8.34–37; 8.39b; 9.43). 177 Occasionally the setting seems more private (in a house: 8.56a; 14.6). 178 But the general distinction between private miracles for Jesus’ main disciples and public ones for others holds. As for the narrative’s beginning and end a difference is seen. The settings for the appearance of angels and Jesus after his resurrection are all portrayed as private, with the exception that in the closing line of the narrative the disciples’ response to Jesus’ ascension brings them into the temple. In contrast knowledge of two angelophanies in the opening episodes becomes public – and this through the motif of responses (the people: 1.22a–b – an unknown number: 2.18). It is only knowledge of the appearance of Gabriel to Mary that seems to remain private. 179 The foregoing considerations are evidence that the private nature of the miracle stories in which disciples, especially established disciples, are respondents is distinctive of them. In the case of miracles prior to Jesus’ execution, the settings are not only private but also removed from urban centres, unlike in the case of healings and exorcisms.

176

Despite the presence of a crowd earlier, the miraculous catch of fish is portrayed as an event following a private interaction between Jesus and Peter and preceding further private interaction. The crowd is not mentioned again. 177 Knowledge of the healing of Peter’s mother-in-law seems to go public, given the following story (Lk 4.40–41). 178 The picture in Lk 8.51–56 is less than clear. Jesus only allows Peter, John and James and the girl’s parents to enter the house with him. Inside, it seems, others mourning there scorn Jesus for his statement. After the resurrection, Jesus commands the parents not to tell anyone. Still, some of their neighbours and relatives evidently know about the event. The healing in 14.1–24 takes place in a house where a number of guests are present, though no crowd is mentioned. 179 There may be an implicit indication that Elisabeth comes to know about the epiphany (see Lk 1.45; cf. 1.56).

316

Chapter 4: Luke

K. Focalisation How might different types of focalisation in the miracle stories correspond to what has already been observed about patterns in the responses? In just one miracle story or, probably, two, focalisation goes beyond the standard kind, namely fixed external focalisation. After the opening sentences of the story of Jesus’ transfiguration, narration becomes focalised through Peter and the other disciples. 180 In all likelihood the angelophany at Jesus’ tomb is also focalised, initially, through disciples, the women who have come to anoint Jesus, before returning to the common narrator-focalisation. 181 In both cases character-focalisation happens through established followers in an epiphany 180

Lk 9.28–36 begins with Jesus active. The three disciples, named in the opening sentence (9.28) are not mentioned again until the notice comes that they are sleeping (9.32a). From this point on Jesus is no longer (inter-)active (he is spoken to by Peter, but unlike in the case with Moses and Elijah, Jesus does not engage in dialogue). Rather, Peter and company (see 9.32 on this designation) are the only characters – besides the heavenly voice – to act (that is, actions that constitute mainline events; Moses and Elijah do depart in a temporal frame in 9.33). At the point where the story switches to the disciples’ activity (9.32b) the scene is seen through their eyes and Peter’s thoughts are soon accessed (9.33b) – references to both their visual sensation and their cognition occur in the first response. The cloud covers them (Jesus is not mentioned). And, in the second response, the followers’ emotions are accessed. The voice addresses them (Jesus is commented upon in the third person). Afterwards Jesus is “found” alone by the disciples, whose silence is then noted (within the third response). In the final sentence, a statement about the disciples’ inactivity, the voice of the narrator, returning as focaliser, resumes its standard role, by creating temporal distance from “those days” (9.36c). Here too, the disciples’ visual sensation is brought to the fore. 181 Note that two of the first three mainline events in the story are represented by εὗρον (Lk 24.2, 3), presenting important new information as something accessed for the hearers/readers through its discovery by these disciples. The women’s inner emotional life (24.5a – i.e. the first response) and thoughts (24.8 [within the second response]) or both (24.4) are tapped into. Given these factors, a further indication of focalisation through the women might be seen in the fact that the two angelic figures appear – it is specified – to the women (24.2: αὐταῖς). Significantly, the description of the men’s clothing precedes and helps lead to the women lowering their gaze. The remainder of the epiphanic encounter seems to stay within their limited field of vision, as nothing further is said about the men’s appearance; rather subsequent reference to the men pertains only to their voice. Relatedly, their speech is their only action in the story, other than appearing. The women are much more active, with their actions constituting five mainline events in Lk 24.1–11, in addition to backgrounded events. Still, it should be noted that there is no explicit reference to the women’s senses of sight and hearing. Nor is any inner dialogue presented. And references to their emotion do not constitute mainline events, but come as circumstantial frames for the appearance and action of the angels, which are mainline events. Focalisation through the said disciples ends in 24.11 when the narrator returns as focaliser, accessing the other disciples’ thoughts. Peter’s emotions are soon accessed too (24.12c).

Location within a Miracle Story

317

story. The responses (there are more than one in each story) play a part in the internal-focalisation.

L. Location within a Miracle Story It is very often the case that a response follows immediately upon the occurrence of a miracle or shortly thereafter. The 24 stories with responses contain 29 miracles. For 20 miracles (in 17 stories) the/a response comes immediately after. 182 In five instances a brief sentence intervenes. Three times Jesus gives a healed/resurrected child back to the parent (7.15c [re. 7.16–17]; 9.42e [re. 9.43]) or tells the parents to give the child food (8.55c; re. 8.56a). Once Jesus asks his disciples’ briefly about their faith (8.25a; re. 8.25b). A brief sentence about Jesus alone being present also intervenes for the third miraculous occurrence in one story (9.36; re. 9.36b–c). In four more instances a lengthier portion of text – always involving speech by Jesus – precedes the response. Jesus gives a command to silence (5.14; re. 5.15). He interacts with others, asking who touched him (8.45–46; re. 8.47). He sends away a healed character and asks a question of opponents (14.4c–5; re. 14.6). Notably, in the story of Jesus’ epiphany to two disciples on the way to Emmaus the first response is extremely delayed (24.15–30; re. 24.31a–b). (The response to his disappearance, however, comes immediately afterwards, as noted already.) When something intervenes between a miracle and the (first) 183 response, then, Jesus is always involved, usually in an active manner. In just six of the 15 relevant stories of healing and/or exorcism does the response appear in the final position. 184 In the remaining stories mostly speech from Jesus follows, bringing the story to its close: whether short (3 stories), longer (2) or very long (2). 185 In one case a lengthy prophecy by Zechariah 182 Stories of healing/exorcism (9): Lk 1.64b–66; 4.36–37; 5.25b–26; 6.11; 8.34–37a; 11.14c–16; 13.13c; 17.15–16; 18.43b–c; cf. 4.39c. Miraculous catch of fish: 5.8–9a. Epiphany stories (6 stories / 10 miracles): 1.29 and 1.21b–22b (for both miracles: appearance of Gabriel and Zechariah’s inability to speak); 1.29; 2.9c; 9.32c–33 and 9.34c (for the initial two of three miracles: the epiphany of Jesus, Moses and Elijah and the appearance of the cloud); 24.5a; 24.32–35 (the second of two miracles: Jesus’ disappearance); 24.37 and 24.52–53 (for both miracles: Jesus’ appearance and his ascension). 183 In six stories there are second responses to the/a miracle (Lk 2.15b–20; 5.11; 8.39b; 13.17b–c; 24.8–12; 24.41a). 184 Lk 4.36–37; 5.25b–26; 6.11; 7.16–17; 8.39b; 18.43b–c. 185 Short utterance by Jesus: a command to silence (re. Lk 8.56a), a commendation of saving faith (re. 8.47). Longer utterance: a series of questions about the ungrateful and a commendation of saving faith (re. 17.15–16), private teaching to disciples – along with the narrator’s commentary on their inability to understand – (re. 9.43a); two short parables in

318

Chapter 4: Luke

and statements about the child’s growth follow the response (re. 1.64–66). Once a story closes with a statement about Jesus remaining in uninhabited areas to pray (re. 5.15). In contrast, in six of eight epiphany stories the/a response comes last. 186 A response (5.11) closes the story of the miraculous catch of fish too. In only six of 15 relevant stories of healing and/or exorcism is it true that both a/the response follows immediately after the miracle and it or another response closes the story. 187 In five other of these stories the (one) response (5.15; 8.47; 8.56a; 9.43; 14.6) comes neither immediately after the miracle nor in the final position. Four of six epiphany stories with multiple responses have both one (or more) response(s) coming immediately after the/a miracle and another in the final position of the story. 188 Conversely, in none of the eight stories concerning epiphanies does a/the response occur neither immediately after the appearance of the epiphanic character nor at the story’s end.

M. Connectives Introducing Responses Does the use of connectives help to demarcate the responses? Eighteen of the 35 responses begin simply with καί. 189 In three of two of these responses actions of a second or third character or subdivision of a group are introduced with δέ. 190 Once the connective is καὶ ἐγένετο (2.15b–20). 191 Within this

the presence of opponents (re. 13.17b–c). Very long utterance: two long parables (and other teaching material) in the presence of opponents (re. 14.6); discourse concerning allegiance with God, the exorcism of demonic power and warnings to those who oppose him (re. 11.14c–16). 186 Lk 2.15b–20; 8.25b; 9.36b–c; 24.8–12; 24.32–35; 24.52–53. In one story the sentences that follows the final response (1.21b–22b) describe Zechariah’s continuing mute state and return home. In another, the response (1.29), which occurs earlier on, is followed by lengthy interaction between Mary and Gabriel. 187 The response(s) in the six said stories are: Lk 4.36–37; 5.8–9a and 5.11; 5.25b–26; 6.11; 8.34–37a and 8.39b; 18.43b–c. 188 The stories are: Lk 2.1–20; 9.28–36; 24.1–12; 24.36–53. Note the response (8.25b) in the one rescue nature miracle story follows shortly after the miracle and closes the story. 189 Lk 1.12; 1.21b–22b; 1.64b–66; 2.9c; 4.36–37; 5.11; 5.25b–26; 8.39b; 8.56a; 9.36b– c; 11.14c–16; 13.13c; 13.17b–c (connective supplied in 13.17a, a sentence fragment); 14.6; 18.43b–c; 24.8–12; 24.32–35; 24.52–53. 190 In Lk 1.21b–22b a backgrounded note about Zechariah’s inability to speak (1.22a) comes with δέ. In 11.14c–16, a mainline action of a subgroup (11.15) and the backgrounded action of another (11.16) are introduced by δέ. 191 The connective is supplied in Lk 2.15a (a sentence fragment).

Sub-Unit Divisions

319

response, too, δέ is twice used. 192 In the remaining 16 responses δέ is the initial connective. In one instance a third-level usage is in view (Lk 1.29). Three times background material is introduced by the connective (5.15; 9.43a; 24.37). In 12 instances δέ marks a development: Lk 5.8–10a; 6.11; 7.16–17; 8.25b; 8.34–37a; 8.47; 9.32c–33; 193 9.34c; 17.15–16a; 24.5a; 24.41a; 24.31a–b. In one of the responses καὶ ἐγένετο introduces a subsequent sentence. 194 In yet another δέ twice introduces subsequent developments. 195

N. Sub-Unit Divisions Here I examine whether and to what extent responses constitute sub-units of miracle stories. Nine of the 24 miracle stories with responses are not divided into sub-units. 196 Nine others have just one division. Of the remaining stories four consist of three sub-units, while three are sub-divided even further. A change of cast is often the basis for sub-unit division. At times the change of interaction between characters is more clear-cut: Zechariah and Gabriel (1.8– 20) to Zechariah and the people (1.21–23); Joseph and Mary (2.1–8) to the shepherds and the angel of the Lord (2.9–14) to the shepherds and those in Bethlehem, including Mary and Joseph (2.15–20); Jesus and the man possessed by Legion (8.26–33) to Jesus, the pig-herders and others from the region (8.34–37a) to Jesus and the healed man (8.37b–39); Jesus and 10 lepers (17.11–14) to Jesus and the Samaritan leper (17.15–19); the blind man and the crowd (18.35–39) to the blind man and Jesus (18.40–43); the women disciples and the angels (24.1–8) to the women disciples and the Eleven and the others (24.9–12). In some stories actions by other characters, though creating complexity, does not leave the basic alternation between the principal characters interacting unclear: Jesus and Jairus (8.40–42) to Jesus and the suffering woman (8.43–48) to Jesus, Jairus and his daughter (8.49–56); 197 Jesus and the father of a demon-plagued boy (9.37–43a) to Jesus and his disciples (9.43b–45). 192

The connective introduces the shepherds’ reporting, a development (Lk 2.17), and the cognitive acts of Mary, which constitute background information (2.19). 193 The connective in supplied in 9.32a, a sentence fragment. 194 Lk 9.33a. 195 Lk 8.35 (δέ introduces the actions of those who hear from the pig herders); 8.36 (actions of the pig herders). 196 Lk 1.26–38; 4.31–37; 5.12–16; 6.6–11; 7.11–17; 8.22–25; 9.28–36, 13.10–21; 17.11–19; cf. 4.38–39. 197 Alternatively the third sub-unit could be understood as based on the theme of Jesus’ confrontation with death (Lk 8.49–56).

320

Chapter 4: Luke

At other times the focus on those interacting changes between sub-units, while characters in focus in one place may nevertheless be present or active (possibly to a lesser extent) in another: Jesus, the crowd and Simon (5.1–3) to Jesus, Simon and his companions (5.4–11); Jesus, the paralysed man and his companions (5.17–20) to Jesus, the scribes and the Pharisees (5.21–26). 198 In some stories, lengthy speeches constitute or are key in the formation of paragraphs: interaction preceding and following Zechariah’s healing (1.59– 66) to Zechariah’s prophecy (1.67–80); Jesus’ reply to an accusation of collusion with Beelzebul (11.14–26) to an interlude on hearing God’s word and doing it (11.27–28) to Jesus’ reply to a request for a sign (11.29–36); controversy around Jesus’ healing on the Sabbath (14.1–6) to warning about prominent seating (14.7–11) to advice on appropriate dinner invitees (14.12–14) to the parable of the banquet (14.15–24). Two complicated cases are interrelated episodes involving appearances of Jesus in chapter 24. On the one hand, there is a clear distinction between two instances of Jesus’ appearance and interaction with various characters, despite some overlapping of setting and lack of surface features for a boundary. On the other hand, determining the sub-divisions within each story is not as clear. I suggest that the first story divides itself, thematically, between the lengthy conversation on the road (24.13–27), the interaction leading up to and involving the meal (24.28–31), the (second) response of two disciples, also the others (24.32–35). The next episode is also divided thematically: Jesus’ series of attempts, eventually successful, to enlighten his disciples (24.36–49 – including the narrative’s climax); Jesus’ blessing and departure and the disciples’ response (24.50–53 – constituting the narrative’s dénouement). Few of the sub-divisions noted correspond exactly or closely to responses. Two responses are paragraphs (8.34–37a; 24.32–35). One (2.15b–20) is slightly less than a paragraph (2.15–20). Another (24.8–12) constitutes a paragraph (24.9–12) and one additional short sentence. Only two responses (Lk 7.16–17; 17.15–16a) out of 12 introduced by δέ marking a development constitute a development unit (i.e. a cluster of mainline events, conjoined by καί). 199 Both contain two mainline events. Alternatively, one response consists of three development units (8.34–37a). One other response makes up the opening and majority of a development unit. 200

198 In addition this story has another thematic change: faith and forgiveness (Lk 5.17– 20) to healing and conflict over Jesus’ authority (5.21–26). 199 Note the two mainline events in Lk 7.16–17 have an intervening backgrounded sentence (7.16b). 200 The two lengthy sentences of one response (Lk 8.47) are the majority of a development unit, which includes also Jesus’ reply (8.48).

Peak of Story and Relative Prominence of Responses

321

O. Peak of Story and Relative Prominence of Responses I analyse here the relation of each response to the moment of greatest intensity or interest in the relevant story. In less than half of the stories (10 of 24) the high point involves material found in a response. In each case the key moment is introduced with the connective δέ marking a development, whether as a single sentence or a development unit. Three times a response constitutes a story’s peak: Lk 6.11 (two sentences); 7.16–17 (three); 8.25b (one). 201 Twice a part of a response is the high point: 2.17–18 (two); 24.12 (three). 202 Twice a penultimate response and a further, subsequent miraculous occurrence are jointly the key moment: 9.34c–35 (two); 24.31 (three). 203 Another instance in which a response along with subsequent material (Jesus’ commendation) constitutes the peak is 8.47–48 (two). 204 Twice preceding material and the response – 8.38b–39 (two) – or part of it – 5.22–25 (three) – together form the moment of greatest interest. 205 Related, in a story with no response, Jesus’ own amazement and commentary on the faith of a suppliant, prior to the healing, is the peak (7.9). Alternatively, in seven stories the (final) response is or belongs to the dénouement – and, where relevant, an earlier response is not a part of the peak. In some cases the words from Jesus which effect the healing and/or exorcism

201 In each of the three instances the response is the final development or development unit in the respective story and brings it to a close. Use of heavy encoding, a high-lighting device, in Lk 6.11a gives even greater prominence to the response. It should be noted that the middle sentence in 7.16–17 is backgrounded. 202 In each of the respective stories, the relevant part of the response is the final development unit. Lk 24.12 also takes up the final position in the episode. In this response the final sentence (24.12c) receives greater prominence, owing to the preceding HP (24.12b). In each story the response concerned is the second of two. 203 The high points are: the three disciples’ fear while entering the cloud and the pronouncement from heaven (Lk 9.34c–35); the disciples’ cognitive response and Jesus’ disappearance (24.31). In the latter case, Jesus’ disappearance receives special attention, owing to heavy encoding in reference to the subject (24.31c). 204 This part of the story is also a development unit. Heavy encoding of the subject in Lk 8.47 further helps to identity the story’s key moment, which is highlighted. 205 The peaks are: speech from Jesus preceding the healing, including a command to the paralysed man, and a related statement of the healing, along with part of the response (Lk 5.22–25); Jesus’ command to the man released from Legion and his response (8.38b– 39). An over-encoded reference to Jesus in 5.22 highlights his speech, giving it additional prominence. Literary considerations, especially verbal parallelism, lead me to take both Jesus’ command and the statement of healing, which involves the first part of the response, jointly as the peak of the story of the healing of the paralytic. Similar verbal parallelism in the exorcism of Legion is at work. Note the episode contains also an earlier response that precedes the peak.

322

Chapter 4: Luke

are the moment of greatest interest, whether together with the statement of the effectiveness of the miracle – Lk 4.35a–b (two sentences); 18.42–43a (two); cf. 4.39a–b (two) 206 – or alone – 8.54 (one). 207 Once Jesus’ words following a healing and preceding the response are the peak: 5.14 (one). 208 Similar is the story in which a pronouncement by Jesus calling three disciples is the key moment 5.10b (one). 209 In two stories words of an epiphanic character are (a part of) the high point. Gabriel’s words of chastisement and prophecy are the peak in one story: 1.19–20 (one). 210 Jesus’ opening of the disciples’ minds and his final speech are the key moment not only of the final story, but also of the entire narrative: 24.45–49 (two). 211 In seven stories the high point is reached after both the miracle and the response(s). In a number of instances speech by Jesus constitutes the peak: 9.43b–44 (one sentence); 11.17–26, 28, 29–36 (three [an extended discourse]); 13.18–21 (two); 14.(7–)16–24 (one [four]); 17.17–18 (one). 212 Once 206 Heavy encoding in reference to Jesus in Lk 4.35a draws added attention to the sentence (note no instance of δέ in the story [4.31–37]). Literary features – parallelism between command and result – lead me to take 4.35b as part of the peak as well. The same considerations (extra encoding for Jesus and the said parallelism) mark 18.42–43a as the high point. 207 In Lk 8.54 the use of δέ and a semantically redundant reference to Jesus with a noun phrase (αὐτός) identify the story’s key moment. 208 Reference to Jesus with a full noun phrase in Lk 5.14 makes the sentence the key moment in the story. The response and further happenings (5.15–16) are, given in the imperfect, backgrounded. 209 Heavy encoding for the subject in Lk 5.10b draws attention to the key moment of Jesus’ speech. Culpepper (2000: 117) also sees Jesus’ words here as the story’s peak. Note an initial response precedes it. 210 Lk 1.19–20 is the final speech in the encounter between Zechariah and Gabriel and the semantically unnecessary reference to the subject (ὁ ἄγγελος) and the redundant quotative frame bring it to the fore. Note one of the two responses comes before the peak and one after it. 211 Lk 24.45–49 is a development unit, introduced with τότε. Extensive literary considerations – on which see below, Section Q – lead to understanding Jesus’ act of opening the disciples’ mind and his explanatory speech and commission as the narrative’s climax. Note two responses precede this moment in the relevant episode and one follows it. 212 Lk 9.43b–44 is the final development in its story; it is also the last mainline event. Jesus’ speech in 13.18-21 is a development (marked, uncommonly in Lk, by οὖν) and the final sentence in the story (note two responses precede the peak). Use of a full noun phrase in reference to Jesus and a redundant quotative frame (also δέ in a third-level usage) in 17.17 mark the speech as the story’s peak. In each of the two remaining cases, those found in chs. 11 and 13, the sheer amount of space dedicated to Jesus’ speech, relative to the length of the story, and the speech’s final position indicate that it is the high point. In the former, the key moment is introduced with heavy encoding for Jesus (11.17; cf. 11.28). For the present purposes it is not necessary to distinguish in great detail between the parts of the extended discourse in 11.14-36, presented as three distinct utterances made by Jesus

Distribution of Responses in Miracle Stories

323

Zechariah’s lengthy prophecy, following the response, is a story’s key moment: 1.67–79 (one). 213 Mary’s reply to Gabriel’s prophecy is the high point in another story: 1.38 (one). 214 When the type of story is considered, contrasting tendencies are observed. The high point in stories which have or are characterised by an epiphanic element typically involves material found in a response (5 of 8 stories). 215 Conversely in stories of healings and exorcism the peak infrequently is or incorporates (part of) the response (5 of 15). 216 I note in addition that, interestingly, in no story is a healing or exorcism itself, alone, the peak. 217

P. Distribution of Responses in Miracle Stories The vast majority of miracle stories have responses. A pattern is established early on: 10 (perhaps all) of the first 11 miracle stories have responses (see below, Table 3). The two certain exceptions are not among the last 10 stories either. Responses have a steadily definitive relation to the stories. Regarding the types of emotion, fear is found in the first four stories, three of which concern epiphanies. Amazement also occurs in two of these epiphany stories. Thereafter, however, amazement appears largely in stories of healing and exorcism, with only one exception prior to the end of the narrative (6 of 7 stories). It also occurs in an inversion of the response motif in a story of healing. 218 Amazement appears again in two of three epiphany stories at the narrative’s extremity. Alternatively, fear, after the first two chapters, appears equally in both healing and exorcism stories (4 stories), on the one (11.17-26, 28, 29–36), with the speech of an interlocutor in the middle (11.27). The three utterances may be considered as jointly constituting the story’s peak; they also bring it to a close. (Note the last utterance is marked as a further development with δέ [11.29].) 213 The length of the utterance, relative to the length of the story, already marks the speech as a noteworthy event. It is also the final mainline event and the reference to Zechariah in Lk 1.67 both contains heavy encoding and is anarthrous. 214 Mary’s utterance is the final speech in the encounter with Gabriel. Reference to her that is semantically redundant (full noun phrase) as well as anarthrous brings it to the fore. Literary considerations – note the inverted parallel with the preceding encounter between Zechariah and Gabriel, in which Zechariah’s behaviour was lacking and Gabriel’s speech brought the episode to a close – also suggest that Mary’s final words, a befitting reaction, are the peak. 215 The relevant responses are: Lk 2.17–18; 8.25b; 9.34c–35; 24.12; 24.31. 216 The relevant responses are: Lk 5.22–25; 6.11; 7.16–17; 8.38b–39; 8.47. 217 This finding undermines an assumption in Barnard’s (2006) study of the verb system, which investigates the Lukan miracle stories as a test case. 218 In Table 3, below, this instance of amazement is indicated by “Inv” (inversion).

324

Chapter 4: Luke

hand, and in the epiphanies and the rescue nature miracle story, on the other (4 stories). Based on the above observations, especially concerning a potential primacy effect, it follows that: though fear is clearly brought into connection with epiphany stories, the emotion is not exclusively associated with such stories; and amazement is also associated with epiphanies. Nevertheless, it is worth noting, once again, that seven of eight epiphany stories contains fear in a response and the exception has a uniquely occurring emotion (“burning hearts”). Yet if one takes into consideration whether, in epiphany stories, the characters responding are recipients (they have experienced the appearance of the angel[s], Jesus or the voice/cloud of God) or merely hear about the occurrences from others, then a strong correlation between fear and epiphany is observed. In all seven epiphany stories that contain the emotion of fear, it is associated only with recipients. The amazement that occurs, alternatively, is in three of five relevant stories (1.21–22b; 2.15b–20; 24.8–12) part of the response of characters who learn about the epiphany after the event. These include the opening angelophanies. Thus a connection between fear and experiencing epiphanies (and the designation of amazement as an emotion for those at a greater distance from such grand miracles) is established at the opening of the overall narrative. If praise is considered an expression of joy (see the discussion, below, in Section Q), then the following observations are noteworthy. There are seven stories with fear but not praise or joy: five epiphany stories; two stories of exorcism and healing. Despite one early exception, the tendency for praise/joy to occur in healing and exorcism stories is established well before the second exception, at the narrative’s close. The initial four times praise occurs, it appears alongside fear.

325

Distribution of Responses in Miracle Stories

Table 3: Distribution of responses among miracle stories, noting type of emotion

5.1–11

Nature

5.12–16

Healing

5.17–26

Healing

6.6–11

Healing

7.1–10

Healing

7.11–17

Healing

8.22–25

Rescue / nature

8.26–39

Exorcism

8.42b–48

Healing

8.40–42a, 49–56

Healing

9.10–17

Nature

9.28–36

Epiphany

9.37–45

Exorcism

11.14–36

Exorcism

13.10–21

Exorcism (Healing)

14.1–24

Healing

17.11–19

Healing

18.35–43

Healing

24.1–12

Epiphany

24.13–35

Epiphany

24.36–53

Epiphany

(?)

(Inv)

( )

( )

Praise

Healing

Joy

Exorcism

4.38–39

Burning Hearts

4.31–37

Humiliation

Epiphany

Anger

Healing

2.1–20

Amazement

1.59–80

Fear / trouble

Epiphany

Emotion

Epiphany

Response

Miracle type

Story 1.8–23 1.26–38

326

Chapter 4: Luke

Q. Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative In this section I analyse the roles that the responses play in the individual miracle stories and in the unfolding of the overall narrative. How do the stories and responses fit into the plot of the fulfillment of God’s saving purpose as it meets with human resistance? Many observations made in the preceding sections are drawn together here. As in the case of Mark and Matthew, I begin with a brief discussion of the “structure” of Luke, in order to make some observations about the general distribution of miracle stories and responses. The stories about the conception and birth of John and Jesus and about Jesus’ infancy and youth (Lk 1–2) are easily distinguishable from the majority of the narrative, which concerns Jesus’ adult life. Many interpreters take 9.51 to be the beginning of a new section, on account of the clear references here and in what follows to Jesus traveling to Jerusalem. The end of the section is difficult to determine. I suggest 19.44. (Other possibilities would not change the analysis pursued below.) The following after this point can be divided into three sections: Jesus’ teaching and confrontations in Jerusalem; his passion; the climactic series of episodes pertaining to his resurrection. (The dénoument [Lk 24.50–53] is found in the final story, which also contains the narrative’s overall climax.) These divisions are represented in Table 4, above. Some questions arise. What is the effect on the narrative of having four miracle stories in the introduction and three in the climactic ending, all seven of which have responses? Why are there three times as many miracle stories in the first section of Jesus’ ministry than in the second (longer) section? What is the result of there being so many miracle stories in the first third or so of the narrative (the introduction and next section)? And what sense is created by so many miracle stories, along with responses, generally? Since there is so much material to be covered in this section, it will be longer than the corresponding section in each of the two previous chapters.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

327

Table 4: Distribution of responses in miracle stories within sections of the narrative Section

Reference

Response / Stories

Responses

Intro

1.5–2.52

4/4

1.12 and 1.21b–22b; 1.29; 1.64b–66; 2.9c and 2.15b–20

1

3.1–9.50

12 (prob. 13) / 15

4.36–37; (prob. 4.39c;) 5.8– 10a and 5.11; 5.15; 5.25b–26; 6.11; 7.16–17; 8.25b; 8.34– 37a and 8.39b; 8.47; 8.56a; 9.32c–33, 9.34c and 9.36b–c; 9.43a

2

9.51–19.44

5/5

11.14c–16; 13.13c and 13.17b–c; 14.6; 17.15–16a; 18.43b–c

3

19.45–21.38

0/0

4

22.1–23.56

0/0

Climax

24.1–53

3/3

24.5a and 24.8–12; 24.31a–b and 24.32–35; 24.37, 24.41a and 24.52–53

328

Chapter 4: Luke

The preface to Luke indicates the intention of the narrator: that the reader(s) (also hearers) may achieve certainty of what he (they) have been informed of (ἵνα ἐπιγνῷς περὶ ὧν κατηχήθης λόγων τὴν ἀσφάλειν: 1.4). 219 The task the narrator undertakes is to write an orderly account (καθεξῆς... γράψαι: 1.3) of the things fulfilled among “us” (περὶ τῶν πεπληροφορημένων ἐν ἡμῖν πραγμάτων: 1.1). The reputed sources are named as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of “the word” (οἱ ἀπ᾿ ἀρχῆς αὐτόπται καὶ ὑπηρέται γενόμενοι τοῦ λόγου: 1.2) – sources to which the narrator claims to have access, at least partially (παρέδοσαν ἡμῖν... ἔδοξε κἀμοι παρηκολουθηκότι ἄνωθεν πᾶσιν ἀκριβῶς: 1.2–3). The sources, presumably characters to appear in the following narrative, are characterised in terms of their visual sensation of events and, it would seem, their service in spreading the word of what has been fulfilled. Questions naturally arise as to which characters and what events might be referred to. I. Luke 1.12 and 1.21b–22 Zechariah and Elisabeth, the first two characters introduced, are described as ideal, pious Jews of priestly stock living in Judea. Mention of Elisabeth’s sterility raises a problem and the possibility of its resolution through divine intervention. The introduction of the characters and problems plays on themes familiar from scriptural narratives. “In an important sense the Gospel of Luke begins mid-story and immediately makes us aware of that fact” (Tannehill 1986–1989: 1: 18). 220 This background material (Lk 1.5–7) sets the stage for the following account of an angelophany (1.8–23). 221 The opening story, thus, is a miracle story. Gabriel appears to the priest Zechariah, while in the temple burning incense. His response contains two elements – emotional (both being troubled and fear) and seeing (1.12): καὶ ἐταράχθη Ζαχαρίας ἰδὼν καὶ φόβος ἐπέπεσεν ἐπ᾿ αὐτόν. It is followed by speech from Gabriel, which begins with the words μὴ φοβοῦ (1.13). Fear (and being troubled) is associated closely, thereby, with the angelophany. The emotional response might be taken as expected, perhaps even involuntary, in such an encounter. Nevertheless, it is contrasted with the coming joy that Gabriel predicts in association with Zech219

It is not to be imagined that one sole person would read and hear the narrative. Tannehill (1986–1989: 1:17–18) observes, “[I]t is important to consider how thoroughly the Lukan birth narrative is permeated with the Old Testament hope and celebrates its fulfillment... We cannot understand what the excitement is about unless we realize that ancient hopes, treasured in the hearts of the Jewish people, are coming to fulfillment.” 221 Most interpreters see the story’s boundaries as Lk 1.5–25 (e.g. Tannehill 1996: 42; de Long 2009: 137). Fronted temporal clauses begin both Lk 1.24 and 1.26. Given the change of subject, such surface features likely indicate a break in the discourse (cf. Levinsohn 2000: 276). 220

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

329

ariah’s child to be. 222 The emotion of joy, expressed in three different ways in succession, is given considerable importance. 223 The tone of the prophecy is entirely hopeful: only the success of John the Baptiser’s vocation is touched on. 224 In the spirit and power of Elijah he will turn many in Israel back to their God. He will prepare a people for the Lord. Still, a description of his career, whose aim is Israel’s repentance, is an important note of solemnity in this, the narrative’s opening speech and prophecy. His being filled (πλησθήσεται) with the holy spirit from his mother’s womb brings the characteristic fulfillment aspect of the narrative to mind. 225 Still, the child’s birth and career – and the associated joy – are a preparatory work. The question arises: to what final end is the preparedness for? Zechariah’s reply 226 (Lk 1.18) to the prophecy is deficient. His question “How shall I know this?” demonstrates a lack of belief (1.20) in the angelic messenger. The encounter ends with Gabriel’s two further predictions (1.20): Zechariah will be mute and Gabriel’s words will be fulfilled in their appropriate time. The latter (esp. πληρωθήσονται) links the birth and career of Elisabeth and Zechariah’s child intimately with the emerging plot (cf. 1.3). 227 The content of the angelic announcements here – and later, as will be shown – play an important role in framing this plot. 228 Tension is also raised by the prediction of joy and the interim silence of Zechariah. 229 The story continues in the courtyard of the temple, with the reactivation of the other character, the “people,” waiting outside (Lk 1.21a; cf. 1.10). The

222 Note the logical connection (Lk 1.13–14): μὴ φοβοῦ, Ζαχαρία, διότι... ἔσται χαρά σοι καὶ ἀγαλλίασις.... 223 Lk 1.14: καὶ ἔσται χαρά σοι καὶ ἀγαλλίασις καὶ πολλοὶ ἐπὶ τῇ γενέσει αὐτοῦ χαρήσονται. 224 That the predicted joy will be for “many” does not seem to imply anything negative. 225 The perfective (aorist) and future forms of πλησθῆναι / πίμπλασθαι (note that the continuative forms do not appear in Lk or the rest of the New Testament) bear some visual and aural similarity to πληρωθῆναι. Usage of the two verbs in Lk in common contexts creates a connection between them. 226 It appears reasonable in this case to differentiate between Zechariah’s response to the miraculous occurrence of the appearance of Gabriel and his reply to the angel’s prophecy. Making a judgment here seems to involve more subjectivity than in other instances analysed in this study, such as Mk 16.8 and Jn 20.18. Still, in the present case Zechariah’s actions constitute a further step in dialogue between the human and the heavenly (morethan-human) figure. In the instances in Mk and Jn mentioned above, the women’s and Mary’s actions, respectively, are not verbal replies to their interlocutors. 227 See also Lk 1.23 (ὡς ἐπλήσθησαν αἱ ἡμέραι...; see above, n. 225, on this verb) at the close of this story. 228 So, too, Tannehill 1986–1989: 1:2. 229 See de Long 2009: 175.

330

Chapter 4: Luke

response of the people to the angelophany and the miraculous silence of Zechariah is narrated in two stages (1.21b–22): καὶ ἐθαύμαζον ἐν τῷ χρονίζειν ἐν τῷ ναῷ αὐτόν. ἐξελθὼν δὲ οὐκ ἐδύνατο λαλῆσαι αὐτοῖς, καὶ ἐπέγνωσαν ὅτι ὀπτασίαν ἑώρακεν ἐν τῷ ναῷ·

Initial amazement at Zechariah’s detainment (emotional element) is followed by knowledge (cognitive) that a vision of a transcendent phenomenon has been seen (seeing). The amazement is, thus, presented as a spatially, experientially and epistemologically more removed response to the angelic appearance. It is not made explicit exactly how they arrive at this knowledge from the uncanny fact that Zechariah cannot talk (1.22a). 230 The second miracle is subordinated to the first one. The seeing element pertains to Zechariah’s experience, not those responding. The association of visual sensation with Zechariah in the story’s two responses makes him a candidate for being one of the αὐτόπται mentioned in the preface. The absence of a joyous response is ironic, given that news of Gabriel’s visitation was to bring joy. 231 II. Luke 1.29 The next story is also an angelophany (Lk 1.26–38). 232 Mary’s entrance to the story is remarkable for its lack of fanfare (1.27). 233 Her response to Gabriel’s appearance and greeting 234 – this time the angel speaks first – has an emotional (being very troubled) and cognitive component (1.29): ἡ δὲ ἐπὶ τῷ λόγῳ διεταράχθη καὶ διελογίζετο ποταπὸς εἴη ὁ ἀσπασμὸς οὗτος. The emotional similarity of Mary’s and Zechariah’s responses is complemented by the identical initial words of Gabriel’s speech: μὴ φοβοῦ (1.30). These similarities confirm the emotion of fear / being troubled as “natural” or “normal” for direct encounters in the narrative with otherworldly beings. An important difference is that Mary’s encounter with Gabriel, from the beginning, is fo-

230 The offline comment in Lk 1.22c–d draws attention to Zechariah’s physical condition being continual, but does not necessarily imply that he explained to the crowd through his signaling what took place inside the temple. 231 So Kuhn (2009: 70). Zechariah’s silent departure is a “disappointing denouement” (Kuhn 2009: 75). 232 Elisabeth’s positive reaction (Lk 1.24b–25) to her conceiving is narrated as background material, setting the scene for the following encounter, in another miracle story. Some, e.g., Kuhn (2009: 74–76), see Lk 1.24–25 as part of the end of the previous story. 233 So Kuhn 2009: 77. 234 There is some connection – though it should not be pressed – between Gabriel’s emphatic prediction of joy to Zechariah and his greeting (χαῖρε: Lk 1.28) Mary. For an alternative approach, see de Long (2009: 139–142).

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

331

cused on the latter’s speech. 235 Whereas Zechariah’s response was emotional only, Mary’s is also cognitive. This variation introduces a pensive characteristic of Mary that will be developed more later. 236 How might Mary reply, then, to what Gabriel will say to her? Gabriel’s prophecy is profound, an escalated addition to his early prophecy. God will give David’s throne to Mary’s child, to be called son of the most high, and his kingdom will not end. Again, the prophecy is entirely positive. This reign is surely what Elisabeth’s and Zechariah’s child will prepare the people for. Mary’s reply (Lk 1.34) indicates receptivity, on the one hand, as she does not question how she will know Gabriel’s words are true but simply how it will happen. On the other hand, her question is unreasonable, though it sets the stage for Gabriel to present an even more grandiose and outlandish prophecy about her child. The question is a further expression of her emotional turmoil and mental perplexity (Kuhn 2009: 84). The angel’s words explaining the nature of the supernatural birth and the child are reaffirming of her question’s acceptability. Her final reply (1.38) expresses a posture of submission and trust, despite the even greater challenge to her understanding coming from Gabriel’s last prophecy. Thus, the contrast of the young girl with the aged priest Zechariah puts her in a very favourable light. 237 Notably, the initial responses of the two to the appearances of Gabriel do not provide the main contrast. Rather they establish a similar narrative context and similarity of form within which their subsequent replies to Gabriel’s words create a contrast. 238

235 Alternately the visual – ὤφθη (Lk 1.11) – and verbal – εἰσελθὼν... εἶπεν (1.28) – aspects of Gabriel’s appearance are featured. Similar attention to visual and aural matters is found in the respective responses: καὶ ἐταράχθη Ζαχαρίας ἰδών (1.12a); ἡ δε ἐπὶ τῷ λόγῳ διεταράχθη (1.29a). Still, it would be an overstatement to claim, as Kuhn (2009: 83) does, that “the sudden appearance of the angelic visitor” is presented as playing no part in causing Mary’s inner disturbance. Kuhn (2009: 83–84) also overstates the difference between Zechariah’s and Mary’s emotions. Culpepper’s (2000: 51) suggestion that perhaps Mary’s emotion resulted from her thinking that “an evil spirit was threatening to prevent her marriage does not take adequate account of what is explicitly stated (ἐπὶ τῷ λόγῳ). 236 Contra Kuhn (2009: 83) διεταράχθη καὶ διελογίζετο (Lk 1.29) is not an instance of “synonymous parallelism.” 237 “All those long years, Zechariah prayed for what he is not willing to believe in. Mary believes what she could have never before imagined” (Kuhn 2009: 85). 238 Gabriel does not comment, in contrast to Zechariah, on Mary’s faith per se. But Elisabeth does later (Lk 1.45).

332

Chapter 4: Luke

III. Intervening material In the next scene 239 Elisabeth’s child’s reaction to the sound of Mary’s greeting – leaping for joy and being filled with the holy spirit (Lk 1.41, 44) – partially fulfills Gabriel’s words to Zechariah. 240 Elisabeth speaks of the future fulfillment of the words spoken to Mary (1.45). 241 It is unexpected, though, that joy at Mary’s pregnancy with Jesus should precede the predicted joy at John’s birth. 242 The programmatic joy announced earlier is now being refocused on Mary’s child, for whose reign Elisabeth’s child will prepare – and is already preparing 243 – the way. Mary also expresses a joy focused on the same (1.47; cf. 1.55), while the theme of God’s great reversal, notably her own exultation, plays a prominent role in her praise of God. Joy and praise (and blessing; cf. 1.42, 45) are, thus, conceptually fused together in this episode. 244 The joy and praise provides a contrast to Zechariah’s silence; and tension is heightened as to when and how his joy will come about. 245 And “God’s favor to one humble woman” is a “paradigm of God’s saving work which is now beginning” (Tannehill 1986–1989: 1:29). The story ends with Mary returning to her home on the one hand and on the other Elisabeth giving birth, when the time for it is fulfilled (ἐπλήσθη), and her neighbours and relatives hearing of God’s graciousness to her and rejoicing with her (1.58). IV. Luke 1.64b–66 In the story of the miraculous loosening of Zechariah’s tongue 246 (Lk 1.59– 80), 247 at John’s circumcision, amazement turns to fear. Those gathered are

The fronted participle and later occurring temporal phrase (ἐν ταῖς ἡμέραις ταύταις) in Lk 1.39 indicate that what follows is not a new story. Pfremmer de Long (2009: 137) and Kuhn (2009: 86) misconstrue the data. Note the encounter with Gabriel has been put in the frame of Elisabeth’s sixth month of pregnancy (1.26). 240 Again, use of πλησθῆναι portrays the event as a significant part of the “things fulfilled among us” (Lk 1.3). 241 The use of τελείωσις in Lk 1.45 further expands the vocabulary which expresses fulfillment. 242 So de Long 2009: 145. 243 Cf. Kuhn 2009: 86–87. 244 Similarly, de Long 2009: 146–147. 245 Kuhn’s (2009: 93–95, 93) suspicion regarding Lk 1.39–56 “ that the reaction Luke was expecting among much of his audience... was astonishment and wonder, perhaps even incredulity,” but not joy, which would only be a later development, is intriguing. It depends on who hearers/readers are envisioned to be. Kuhn’s conception is fairly narrow. 246 The story begins without an indication of place or characters. After an indication of time, it jumps right to the issue that was the immediate set-up for the miracle. Circumcision and naming are not in themselves the story’s focus. 239

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

333

amazed (ἐθαύμασαν: 1.63) when Zechariah, contrary to cultural norms, confirms in writing that the name of his and Elisabeth’s child will be John. 248 When he suddenly begins to speak, a complex response unravels (1.64b–66): καὶ ἐλάλει εὐλογῶν τὸν θεόν. καὶ ἐγένετο ἐπὶ πάντας φόβος τοὺς περιοικοῦντας αὐτούς, καὶ ἐν ὅλῃ τῇ ὀρεινῇ τῆς Ἰουδαίας διελαλεῖτο πάντα τὰ ῥήματα ταῦτα, καὶ ἔθεντο πάντες οἱ ἀκούσαντες ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτῶν λέγοντες· τί ἄρα τὸ παιδίον τοῦτο ἔσται; καὶ γὰρ χεὶρ κυρίου ἦν μετ᾿ αὐτοῦ.

Five elements occur: speech (praise), emotion (fear), reporting, cognition, hearing. By having Zechariah’s prophecy (1.67–79) come later, a prophecy which must precede the reporting of the events to and the pondering of them by those not present, the story is allowed to reach its peak in his lengthy utterance. The first character to respond is the recipient of the healing. Zechariah’s praise of God contrasts with his earlier silence, a consequence of his unbelief. Joy is in all probability implied, given the recent collocation of joy and praise (Lk 1.46–47; cf. 1.58) and its contrast with Zechariah’s silence. 249 Gabriel’s prophecy of Zechariah’s joy has come to fulfillment in the latter’s praise of God. Narration of Zechariah’s activity, however, is suspended momentarily as the response of others, extending over many days and perhaps months or years, is related. Those who become afraid include possibly, in addition to those who are present at the circumcision, others living in the immediate area who are not present. 250 If this is the case, the reporting implicit already in καὶ ἐγένετο ἐπὶ πάντας φόβος τοὺς περιοικοῦντας αὐτούς (1.65a) is followed by an explicit, though passive, statement indicating that “these things” were

247 Lk 1.57–58 is linked to the foregoing (fronted nominal clause + δέ ; time reference follows the verb), providing a closure for Elizabeth’s actions which are a counterpart to Mary’s departure. Lk 1.59 begins with a structure (καὶ ἐγένετο ἐν + time reference) that indicates a new story begins. The new story is closely related (καί) to the foregoing. (de Long [2009: 137] incorrectly indicates that a temporal clause begins 1.57a.) 248 Kuhn (2009: 100–101) argues well against the idea that Zechariah did not know what Elisabeth said. But his understanding of the reaction of amazement in Lk 1.63b as one of the indications that “the events surrounding John’s birth as manifestations of God’s intervention” (Kuhn 2009: 100) uncritically conflates the reaction with the later response to the miracle of healing. It also relies heavily on statistics of how often amazement is linked to revelation or manifestation of power by God in Luke and Acts, but not on a close reading of the episode at hand. Also, though Kuhn (2009: 100, 102; cf. 106–107) notes “holy fear” in 1.65, he understands 1.66 (primarily) in relation to “wonderment.” 249 So, too, de Long 2009: 148. 250 Use of the word “all” in the phrase ἐπὶ πάντας φόβος τοὺς περιοικοῦντας αὐτούς (Lk 1.65a; cf. 1.58) may suggest more characters than those who have come to the circumcision though the alternative (see 1.59) is also possible.

334

Chapter 4: Luke

repeatedly discussed in a broader geographical region. 251 Another sentence describes the cognitive impact made on those who heard about the events: the strange story caused perplexity and/or curiosity and an effort to remember its details. 252 Earlier, upon hearing the news of Elisabeth’s pregnancy her relatives and neighbours rejoiced with her (1.58). Now not joy, but fear and questions accompany the act of hearing. After following the actions of the increasingly larger circles of respondents, the narrative returns to Zechariah, who prophesies in a manner akin to Gabriel’s and Mary’s earlier oracles. 253 Zechariah’s words refocus attention from his own child to David’s heir. 254 Through him Israel will be saved from its enemies. The theme of fulfillment, here of the ancient prophets’ words, is struck again. When John is finally mentioned, his role is described as preparing the way for “the Lord.” Salvation will come through Israel’s repentance from sins (Lk 1.77). Serving God in holiness and righteousness is on the agenda. But the tone is entirely positive. Salvation comes across as corporate. Peace is the final word and the projected end result of Israel’s straightwalking feet. The story ends with the speedily narrated growth and maturing of the boy “until the day he appeared publicly to Israel” (1.80). Placing the response before the prophecy, then, leaves a gap. How do the relatives, neighbours and others in Judea who hear about the prophecy react to it? Do they join Zechariah’s in not only accepting the plan of God but rejoicing in it? The question in the hearts of the larger circle of respondents (1.66) left ringing in the ears of the hearers/readers makes these questions await an answer at a later time. A word is in order regarding emotions in this story. The move, mentioned previously, from amazement prior to the miracle to fear following it makes the latter an escalated emotion in relation to miracles and the primary one of the two to appear in responses. Fear alongside being troubled has consistently appeared in all three responses. At the same time joy, implicit in Zechariah’s 251 In this, the first time reporting occurs in a miracle response, the agents are not identified per se, nor is a great effort made to distinguish those who report from those who hear. The initial emphasis on the unity of the two groups’ response – only an implicit distinction can be made in Lk 1.65 – gives way to some differentiation in 1.66. 252 Culpepper (2000: 59) claims, “The effect of their amazement is to lead the people to speculate over the identity of this child.” While some support for this position can be found (cf. πάντα τὰ ῥήματα ταῦτα in 1.65b), still not the earlier amazement over the unusual name, but the later fear at the miraculous recovery of speech is associated with the speculations. 253 On the similarity of these and Simeon’s prophecies see Tannehill (1986–1989: 1:32– 33; cf. 42–43), who discusses also relations between the canticles of Mary, Zechariah and Simeon. Kuhn (2009: 102) also sees Zechariah’s “prophecy of praise” as an utterance distinct from his earlier praise of God. 254 Similarly Kuhn 2009: 102–103.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

335

praise and aligned with his belief, lies in some way in contrast to the fear of those living in the region. The latter are now asking questions about what will be, just as Zechariah had when, afraid, he encountered Gabriel. Zechariah is now very confident, while those in the surrounding area are at least less confident, if not unsure. 255 In fact the narrative to this point has made no difference, with respect to emotional responses to miracles, between epiphany stories and the other miracle story. At a number of points, therefore, Luke differs here from the other Synoptics – a point that will be returned to at the end of the present chapter. 256 V. Luke 2.9c and 2.15b–20 In the story of Jesus’ birth (Lk 2.1–20), the peculiar details of the birth place 257 of Israel’s king contrasts with the grandeur of Caesar Augustus, conjured up in the story’s opening line. 258 Something about the picture of the king here, as earlier, 259 is askew. The theme of lowliness continues in the lengthy depiction of the related angelophany, of which shepherds are recipients. The shepherds’ response to the angel of the Lord’s appearance has one sole component – great fear (2.9c): καὶ ἐφοβήθησαν φόβον μέγαν. Again, the angel’s first words are μὴ φοβεῖσθε (2.10). For these and other 260 reasons the association of the emotions of fear and being troubled with angelophanies is secured, even though these emotions, generally, have occurred in all responses so far. As with Gabriel’s message to Zechariah, this angel’s words contrast the fear with a prediction of joy (2.10). This time, however, the “great joy” is

255 I would not affirm without qualification, therefore, the idea that one of the “Lukan themes” affirmed here is of “fear, joy, and praise as the appropriate response to God’s mercy and God’s mighty deeds” (Culpepper 2000: 59). Up until this point (and in what follows) fear is depicted as superior to amazement, but not as in itself “appropriate.” 256 To summarise: the configuration of amazement and fear and the constellation of amazement, fear and joy in and surrounding the present miracle response is noticeably different from what has been seen in the other Synoptics, as is the non-differentiation between epiphany and other miracle stories by means of the emotion of fear. 257 The κατάλυμα is better understood as a “guest-room,” probably with relatives, than an “inn” (BDAG: ad loc.). 258 Culpepper (2000: 65) draws attention to a similar contrast “between the humble setting of the birth and the glory of the angelic announcement.” 259 Something seems awry, too, in the picture of an unmarried young woman betrothed to a descendant of David who receives a visit from Gabriel, promising the birth of Israel’s king, and then spends months in hiding, with presumably only a few relatives knowing of the momentous events. This is not the way for a much anticipated royal, deliverer figure to be announced and brought into the world. 260 Tannehill (1986–1989: 1:38) notes a constellation of features that connects the three “annunciation” stories.

336

Chapter 4: Luke

expressly for all the people. The sign given, of the feeding trough, is strange, unbecoming of the great messiah, whose birth is announced. Heavenly praise erupts, as the angel of the Lord is joined by a host of angels. Peace for the people of divine favour is proclaimed. Praise is hereby again associated with joy. 261 Following this is a lengthy, very complex response on the part of the shepherds and, secondarily, those who hear their report, including Mary (Lk 2.15–20): καὶ ἐγένετο ὡς ἀπῆλθον ἀπ᾿ αὐτῶν εἰς τὸν οὐρανὸν οἱ ἄγγελοι, οἱ ποιμένες ἐλάλουν πρὸς ἀλλήλους· διέλθωμεν δὴ ἕως Βηθλέεμ καὶ ἴδωμεν τὸ ῥῆμα τοῦτο τὸ γεγονὸς ὃ ὁ κύριος ἐγνώρισεν ἡμῖν. καὶ ἦλθαν σπεύσαντες καὶ ἀνεῦραν τήν τε Μαριὰμ καὶ τὸν Ἰωσὴφ καὶ τὸ βρέφος κείμενον ἐν τῇ φάτνῃ· ἰδόντες δὲ ἐγνώρισαν περὶ τοῦ ῥήματος τοῦ λαληθέντος αὐτοῖς περὶ τοῦ παιδίου τούτου. καὶ πάντες οἱ ἀκούσαντες ἐθαύμασαν περὶ τῶν λαληθέντων ὑπὸ τῶν ποιμένων πρὸς αὐτούς· ἡ δὲ Μαριὰμ πάντα συνετήρει τὰ ῥήματα ταῦτα συμβάλλουσα ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτῆς. καὶ ὑπέστρεψαν οἱ ποιμένες δοξάζοντες καὶ αἰνοῦντες τὸν θεὸν ἐπὶ πᾶσιν οἷς ἤκουσαν καὶ εἶδον καθὼς ἐλαλήθη πρὸς αὐτούς.

The elements are many: verbal, seeing, movement, reporting, hearing, emotional, cognitive (and “finding”). There are numerous references to the shepherds’ sight (3 times) and speech (both verbal [2 times] and reporting [3 times] elements). The former is predominant, occurring towards the beginning, in the middle and at the end of the response. It is always in conjunction with a reference to the angels’ words to them: first the shepherds talk about going to see what has been announced to them; then having seen the baby in the food trough, alongside his parents, they let them (and others) know what the angels told them; last, they return, praising God for everything they heard and saw, just as it had been said to them. 262 The theme of fulfillment is, in fact, the story’s very last note. On the other hand, praise (specifying the manner of the shepherds’ return, the final finite verb and event) closes the response and, with it, the story. As in the case of Gabriel’s prophecy of Zechariah’s joy, which manifested itself in the narrative as praise, so too angelic prediction of joy finds fulfillment in the form of the shepherds’ praise to God. 263 For the third time praise is closely associated with joy. Also for the third time, an immediate response of fear or being troubled to an angelophany has given way to joy and praise (Mary’s and especially Zechariah’s joy was delayed). Through the connection of the shepherd’s seeing and their reporting, though they refer to different events (namely, encountering the baby and the 261

So de Long 2009: 148–149. Likewise Culpepper (2000: 65) notes how “[t]hroughout, the emphasis falls on the confirmation of the things that had been spoken to them – the angelic announcement.” Confirmation is very closely associated to the shepherds’ visual (and aural) sensation. 263 Similarly, de Long 2009: 148–149. 262

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

337

angels, respectively), the dual concept of both witnessing and spreading “the word” presented in the preface begins to take narrative form. 264 They seem unlikely candidates, however, for this important role, being the sources of so great an epiphany and prophecy. 265 Nor do they have a continued presence in the remainder of the narrative. But their ideal, praise-filled response serves as a role model. 266 The “all who hear” their story and become amazed (Lk 2.18) do not include Mary (cf. δέ; 2.19), whose response is solely cognitive. 267 She treasures everything that has been said by the shepherds. Her response, while similar to that of “those who hear” in the story of Zechariah’s miraculous speech, is more emphatic and positive – she does not ask a question, but implicitly accepts the shepherds’ account. 268 This is the third time that amazement has occurred. As in 1.21, a response of amazement here is spatially and experientially removed from the miracle. In both cases it is an emotion arising from learning about others’ fearful experience of an angelophany. 269 In the second instance amazement (prior to the miracle) turns to fear (the response). The amazement in the present story does not imply acceptance of the shepherds’ account of the angelophany and prophecy about the child, as Mary’s pondering does. But hearing as a source of knowledge is not downplayed through this association, since the shepherds praise God for what they have heard and seen. 270 The story’s peak, a development unit (Lk 2.17-18) within the response, consists of both the shepherds’ act of reporting what the angel of the Lord 264

The shepherds seem to be the first to take up within the narrative world the role of “eyewitnesses and servants of the word” (cf. Lk 1.58 and 1.65–66). Though attention is drawn to Zechariah’s seeing Gabriel (1.12, 22), nowhere in the narrative does he relate his experience to others. By implication, of course, he is the (only) source for the narrative to draw upon for the incident. Kuhn (2003: 243, 244; though cf. 247), though noting that an angelophany “leads to the shepherds’ ‘making known what had been told them concerning this child,’” makes no distinction between characters’ “bearing witness to God’s salvation” and bearing witness to what they have seen. 265 Their quality as witnesses is not ideal – a fact that lies in contrast to Rothschild’s (2004: 267–269) hypothesis. 266 The shepherds’ praise is “[t]he result of the whole episode” and “the response that should arise from all God’s people” (Culpepper 2000: 66). 267 Similarly Culpepper 2000: 66. 268 Stronger word choice and extra detail favour Mary’s portrayal: (πάντα τὰ ῥήματα) θέσθαι... ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ with a question in direct “speech” (Lk 1.[65–]66); συντηρῆσαι τὰ ῥήματα ταῦτα συμβάλλουσα ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτῆς (2.9). 269 Similarly, the amazement in Lk 1.63b, which precedes the miracle, is replaced by observers’ response of fear. 270 By implication Mary – perhaps also Joseph – has told the shepherds something about the child. Possibly she has (they have) said that the child is a descendant of David or simply that he was just born.

338

Chapter 4: Luke

had told them and the listeners’ amazement at these words. A possible point thereby implicitly brought to the fore is that already at his birth the messiah is not fully understood or embraced by all of his people. Such an interpretive possibility remains dormant, awaiting more explicit confirmation, if at all. VI. Intervening material In the next story of prophecy, 271 again in the temple, Simeon’s contribution to the predictive thread in the early part of the narrative gives two startling twists to the anticipated plot line. The messiah of the Lord will be a light for revelation to the Gentiles, as well as, what has already been announced in other terms, glory for the people of Israel. This twist, in part at least, is what produces amazement (ἦν ὁ πατὴρ αὐτοῦ καὶ ἡ μήτηρ θαυμάζοντες: Lk 2.33) in Joseph and Mary. Amazement is here again associated with communication from humans (not angels). 272 The final, greater twist however, comes in Simeon’s words to Mary – perhaps the communication is to be understood as out of hearing-range of a large audience. The child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel and will raise opposition, so that the thoughts of hearts will be revealed. Unexpectedly hearers/readers learn that not all of Israel will be purified through Jesus’, and likely his predecessor’s, career. The mention of hearts and the image of descent and ascent recall Mary’s words (Lk 1.51– 152). 273 Are Israel’s leaders and its wealthy the hard-hearted ones, destined to fall? What does this mean for God’s deliverance of Israel from foreign enemies that has been so loudly proclaimed? And what sort of sword will pierce the heart of “Mary, his mother” (2.34) – a strange remark, personal and ominous? No reaction to these words is narrated, unlike with Simeon’s early prophecy. The triumphal atmosphere returns with Anna’s praising God and speaking about the child to all who expect “the redemption of Jerusalem.” It returns only in part, though. The foreboding note struck by Simeon’s words to Mary cannot fade so quickly. Indeed, it will continue to resound from here on in the narrative, awaiting the fulfillment of a course of events plotted and set in motion by God that cannot be undone. 274 271 Prophecy’s realisation (a message spoken to Simeon by the holy spirit, though unknown until now to hearers/readers, is fulfilled) and prediction both take place in the story. 272 See Lk 1.63 and 2.18. Similarly Culpepper (2000: 71). 273 Similarly, Tannehill 1986–1989: 1:29, 32. 274 Tannehill (1986–1989: 1:8) correctly observes: “[T]he angelic announcements and prophetic hymns found there [Lk 1–2] form one interconnected disclosure about Jesus which establishes a set of expectations about the course of the story.” I find improbable Tannehill’s thesis that the prediction of Jesus’ reign as messiah in Israel is portrayed as tragically unfulfilled by the end of Lk. Rather, it seems that the narrative’s early predic-

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

339

Still, the praise that has been thematic of the conception and childhood episodes continues here with strength. Both Simeon and Anna’s verbal activity includes praise (Lk 2.28, 38). Simeon’s first utterance is a blessing of God, recalling a prophecy intimated to him by God’s spirit – a mixture of prophecy and praise. Joy is very probably to be understood as part and parcel of the story’s instances of praise, as with the earlier instances of human characters offering praise and blessing (1.42–45, 46–55; 1.64b [cf. 1.68–79]; 2.20 – the last two instances are responses). 275 Again the amazement here, coming in reaction to some of Simeon’s words, is not related to the direct experience of a miracle. The final episode of the opening chapters, with Jesus as a child of 12 years of age, is again in the temple. While the parents search and find their supposedly lost child, he is right in his element, his interlocutors amazed at his insights and answers. Jesus, as a child, is already the ideal interpreter of the Scriptures. That his understanding surpasses his peers and possibly his elders, in this case Israel’s “teachers,” and arouses the latter’s great amazement (ἐξίσταντο: Lk 2.47) does not spell their certain doom, just as his parents’ great amazement (ἐξεπλάγησαν: 2.48) at finding him does not condemn them. Still, it is indicative of a lack of understanding, as it was for Jesus’ parents’ reaction to Simeon’s words. 276 Jesus must be in his Father’s house. 277 He will return with his parents, for now. But he must come again to the temple. Will Israel teachers’ hearts be open to him and, likewise, to God? Will joy be theirs – the absence of joy in this story is noteworthy – when they meet him as an adult? Or will Jesus’ career bring their fall? Mary’s final reaction (2.51c) speaks positively on her behalf: as in her response to the great angelic host, mediated through the shepherds’ report, here too she treasures all these things in her heart, without further questions (cf. 2.48b). 278 The two instances of amazement confirm a pattern that has emerged. The emotion is not associated with responses of recipients of miracles, certainly not epiphanies. In addition the greater amazement here is focused on Jesus’ teaching and related behaviour. As the birth, infancy and childhood stories of John and Jesus come to a close some impressions have been indelibly made. For the present purposes I focus on the role of various emotions generally, which has been considerable, and some aspects of miracle stories and responses. Joy, associated also with praise, has been of paramount importance. Characters’ joy is the prophesied tions are successively reinterpreted, beginning with Simeon. This is also a major point in ch. 24; see below. 275 So, too, de Long 2009: 135–138, 148–149. 276 So, too, Culpepper 2000: 77–78. 277 Alternatively, Jesus must be about his Father’s business (Culpepper 2000: 77). 278 καὶ ἡ μήτηρ αὐτοῦ διετήρει πάντα τὰ ῥήματα ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ αὐτῆς (Lk 2.51d).

340

Chapter 4: Luke

goal of the narrative. It has also punctuated key moments in God’s activity so far, making a noteworthy appearance in responses in miracle stories. Fear / being troubled have been associated with one another. They have been part and parcel of responses, being especially characteristic in the epiphany stories. Angelic messengers have contrasted these emotions with joy, while foretelling the latter. Character’s amazement has occurred at various points, at times in responses. It either signals a lack of understanding or correlates to spatial and/or experiential distance from miraculous events. In the four miracle stories angelophanies have predominated. Even the story of the miraculous loosening of Zechariah’s tongue is indirectly related to angelophany, for the condition was a punishment in the first place for disbelief in Gabriel’s message and the recovery was also predicted by Gabriel. The concepts of seeing, also hearing, the miraculous and relating news of the occurrences to others has been part of responses, recalling the reference to sources in the preface. After a clear indication that a new, larger part of the narrative has begun (Lk 3.1–2) John the Baptiser, now an adult, begins his ministry, described as a “baptism of repentance” for the “forgiveness of sins” (3.3) recalling Gabriel’s words (1.77). His words are fierce and his agenda embraces social justice, including not just a call for the rich and powerful to refrain from extortion but also to be generous to the poor. Simeon’s words to Mary find a thematic echo here as talk of being cut off and thrown into the fire allows for a division within Israel. His successor’s activities are foretold in starker, more polarised terms: some he will put in storage, others he will burn. The events of the holy spirit’s descent on Jesus and the voice from heaven are told in manner uncommon for narrative (infinitive accusative constructions). The sense is more of backgrounded context than a story proper. No indication of Jesus’ or others’ potential reaction is given. The unusual events of Jesus’ temptation, performed by his adversary are, owing to their nature, not miracles. In dialogue Jesus demonstrates himself to be the true interpreter of the Scriptures. Features related to responses appear in the summary material (Lk 4.14–15) preceding the first story of Jesus’ public activity. A report about him goes out throughout the Galilee (4.14b), after he returns in the power of the spirit from his time of temptation. When he teaches, he is praised by all (δοξαζόμενος ὑπὸ πάντων: 4.15). For the first time a human, not God, is the recipient of praise. The hearers/readers may ask to what extent those praising Jesus understand who he is. 279

279

Culpepper (2000: 103) does not differentiate between praise of God and of Jesus with respect to Lk 4.15.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

341

In his hometown’s synagogue on the Sabbath, Jesus proclaims the fulfillment of the text he reads from Isaiah: the spirit is upon him; he brings good news to the poor and sight to the blind; and he proclaims the year of Lord’s favour. The words are fully hopeful. But the listeners’ reaction casts a shadow of foreboding. While they initially speak well of him, they are amazed (ἐθαύμαζον: Lk 4.22) at his words – recalling reactions to Jesus’ teaching in the temple as a twelve-year-old – and, seemingly perplexed or even incredulous, ask rhetorically about knowing his father Joseph. 280 The irony for the hearers/readers of Jesus’ true father is not to be missed. The amazement bespeaks a lack of understanding, perhaps receptivity. At any rate the amazement turns to rage, following Jesus’ use of examples of earlier prophets who went to the Gentiles to perform miracles in explanation of why he did no miracles in his hometown, though he performs them in Capernaum. The listeners’ reaction is so incredibly violent, in fact, that they seek to kill him, though Jesus escapes. The tone left ringing from this inaugural story seems the opposite of the birth and infancy stories: hope, while present, has been overpowered by foreboding hostility. VII. Luke 4.36–37 The following story (Lk 4.31–37) also occurs in a synagogue on Sabbath. This, the first miracle story of Jesus’ adult life, tells of an exorcism in Capernaum, where, it has been made known, miracles have already taken place. While Jesus’ teaching is related here in only summary form, in parallelism with the foregoing story a reaction is given: those listening are greatly amazed (ἐξεπλήσσοντο: 4.32). 281 (This is the third time in short succession that [great] amazement has been associated with Jesus’ teaching.) However, in contrast, 282 following his teaching this time Jesus performs a miracle. He rebukes a demon forcing it to leave its victim. 283 Surprisingly, whereas those 280 On account of the synagogue attendees’ compliments, Culpepper (2000: 107) sees their question as “positive,” not “hostile.” It is more probable to see already a development from speaking well of Jesus, to being amazed and asking questions about the likelihood of his being a prophet or his eligibility as one (less than positive, though not hostile). 281 So, also, Tannehill (1996: 95; cf. 1986: 1:83). 282 To some extent Lk 4.14–44 is “an initial portrayal of Jesus’ mission in its two aspects of word and deed” (Tannehill 1986: 1:83; cf. 85). However a key role of the material’s unity is to facilitate comparison of the differences, especially the way in which Jesus is received. 283 The demon is representative of a number of demons, perhaps demonic powers generally. Some contrast exists between this demon’s interaction with Jesus (showing an awareness of Jesus’ identity and knowledge that its/their demise will be at Jesus’ hand; cf. Stuckenbruck [2013: 530]) and that of the διάβολος, who earlier left Jesus’ presence, though defeated, seemingly undeterred to assault him again (Lk 3.13). Readers/hearers

342

Chapter 4: Luke

who live in the same town Jesus grew up in do not know who he is, the demon does. 284 Even given a violent departure the man remains physically unscathed. 285 A lengthy response follows (4.36–37): καὶ ἐγένετο θάμβος ἐπὶ πάντας καὶ συνελάλουν πρὸς ἀλλήλους λέγοντες· τίς ὁ λόγος οὗτος ὅτι ἐν ἐξουσίᾳ καὶ δυνάμει ἐπιτάσσει τοῖς ἀκαθάρτοις πνεύμασιν καὶ ἐξέρχονται; καὶ ἐξεπορεύετο ἦχος περὶ αὐτοῦ εἰς πάντα τόπον τῆς περιχώρου.

The response has emotional, verbal and reporting components. Accompanying amazement (θάμβος) is a question as to the authority of Jesus’ teaching. This combination indicates lack of understanding. 286 Indeed, the demon has a better understanding of who Jesus is. But the lack of awareness does not suggest that hope is lost. In stark contrast to the preceding story – both stories have a reaction to Jesus at/toward the beginning and at the end – here a final reaction, a response to the exorcism, indicates possibly a positive development, certainly not a nose-dive into antagonism at any rate. While the amazement does not change much from beginning to end, 287 the spread of the news recalls similar early instances in responses (1.58, 65–66; 2.18, 38), 288 suggestive of positive connotation. Still, the absence of joy or praise may well be felt. 289 Focus remains on Jesus himself. VIII. Intervening material A brief story of a healing (Lk 4.38–39), in which Simon is introduced, 290 follows. Various features of the narrative tie this healing and the foregoing

now learn that at some point in the future of the story world the conflict will result, ultimately, in the destruction of these evil opponents. 284 Comparing the speech of those who come into conflict with Jesus (Lk 4.22, 34) establishes the connection. 285 So Stuckenbruck 2013: 531. 286 So Culpepper (2000: 111): “The initial response, however, is amazement and questioning, not confession.” 287 The sense of extreme amazement is maintained, though ἐκπλαγῆναι denotes a stronger emotion than θάμβος. See Chapter One, above (cf. also Kiffiak, forthcoming). 288 The spread of the news about Jesus also forms an inclusio with Lk 4.14, tying the first two episodes, occurring in synagogues on Sabbath with Jesus teaching, together. 289 The absence of praise and joy in this opening miracle story of Jesus’ adult ministry is important to take note of, given the conception of some that “[t]hroughout Luke, joy and praise are the spontaneous responses of God’s people to the mighty acts they witness” (Culpepper 2000: 46 – yet on Culpepper’s sensitivity to nuance here see above, n. 286). 290 Contra Gäbel (2013: 544; cf. Mahr 2013: 536), Simon is to be understood as present. Following the mention of his name twice (Lk 4.38a–b) the plural verb ἠρώτησαν (4.38) would naturally incorporate Simon in the subject. One would expect, on the contrary, if Simon were absent, for this to be made explicit.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

343

exorcism together. 291 The final sentence, which reports the convalescence of Simon’s mother-in-law, perhaps also constitutes a response (4.39c): παραχρῆμα δὲ ἀναστᾶσα διηκόνει αὐτοῖς. 292 The absence of a response from Simon, on the other hand, raises the question as to why this suddenly introduced and named individual does not rejoice or praise God for the healing he requested. At Sabbath’s end Jesus heals all the sick and demon-possessed brought to him. No response is recorded. Rather, the demons’ verbalised awareness of who Jesus is is noted, making a link with the earlier exorcism (Lk 4.41 cf. 4.34). The human characters, by way of contrast, do not seem to have grasped that Jesus is the messiah, the Son of God. Still, the next morning the “crowds’” attempt to prevent Jesus from leaving them suggests a moderately positive relation to Jesus’ miracles, a far cry from the violent reaction to Jesus in Nazareth. 293 This reading is confirmed by the inclusio that links the series of stories centred on Capernaum with the Nazareth episode. 294 Again, though, the predicted joy and praise are absent. IX. Luke 5.8–10a and 5.11 A longer miracle story (Lk 5.1–11), focused on Simon and, to a lesser extent, his coworkers, James and John, begins also with Jesus teaching a crowd. Following this is a miraculous, enormous catch of fish, as a result of Simon’s second act of obedience to Jesus’ instruction. The response describes the actions of Peter and, in supporting material, all three named fishermen (5.8– 10a): ἰδὼν δὲ Σίμων Πέτρος προσέπεσεν τοῖς γόνασιν Ἰησοῦ λέγων· ἔξελθε ἀπ᾿ ἐμοῦ, ὅτι ἀνὴρ ἁμαρτωλός εἰμι, κύριε. θάμβος γὰρ περιέσχεν αὐτὸν καὶ πάντας τοὺς σὺν αὐτῷ ἐπὶ τῇ ἄγρᾳ τῶν ἰχθύων ὧν συνέλαβον, ὁμοίως δὲ καὶ Ἰάκωβον καὶ Ἰωάννην υἱοὺς Ζεβεδαίου, οἳ ἦσαν κοινωνοὶ τῷ Σίμωνι.

It has four elements: seeing, physical (falling), verbal, emotional (amazement). On the one hand, the use of θάμβος draws a connection with the response in Capernaum, the first response to a miracle in the narrative during Jesus’ adult life. On the other hand, a number of features show Simon and his comrades’ response to be more extreme and qualitatively superior. Simon 291

Note Jesus’ similar rebuke (ἐπετίμησεν; Lk 4.35, 39), among other things (cf. Mahr 2013: 536–537). 292 So Culpepper (2000: 111), referring in part to 8.1–3, where women followers serve (διηκόνουν) Jesus and others through financial support. 293 On the other hand, as Tannehill (1996: 96) notes, those in Capernaum “may show the same desire to keep Jesus for themselves as surfaced in Nazareth.” 294 Similar phraseology expresses Jesus’ travelling and teaching in Galilean (Lk 4.15) and Judean (4.44) synagogues. See further Tannehill (1986: 83, 85).

344

Chapter 4: Luke

falls at Jesus’ knees and pleads with him to leave his presence – an extreme move indeed. 295 And rather than asking a question, puzzled as to the source of Jesus’ power, Simon confesses that he is a sinful man (ἀνὴρ ἁμαρτωλός). Jesus’ proclamation of release of captives has found its first truly fertile ground. 296 The words of Gabriel (Lk 1.16–17) and Zechariah (1.77–69), too, are being fulfilled. Simon’s words also show a greater appreciation of Jesus than the Capernaum synagogue crowd. (The response here is directed completely towards Jesus. God is not praised or mentioned.) Simon’s understanding, in fact, is closer to that of the demon there, who knows Jesus is “the holy one of God.” Still, something seems not quite right. First, Jesus’ opening words following the miracle “μὴ φοβοῦ” recall the initial words of Gabriel to Zechariah (Lk 1.13) and Mary (1.30) and of the angel of the Lord to the shepherds (2.10). For hearers/readers this may suggest that some aspect of Jesus was revealed that is closer to the angels than it is to humans, 297 though Simon has not perceived it. Also, encounters with angels have consistently evoked responses of fear or being troubled and the relevant amazement, when present, has been from those who did not see the angel(s). Thus the incongruity of Simon’s amazement and Jesus’ “μὴ φοβοῦ” may suggest that Simon has missed something. 298 This notion is strengthened by the general association of amazement with lack of understanding. Besides, Simon’s (initial) desire for Jesus to leave him, accompanying the amazement, is not appropriate. 299 Jesus must correct it. He calls Peter to fish humans. Then all those in the boats, including Simon, respond (5.11): καὶ καταγαγόντες τὰ πλοῖα ἐπὶ τὴν γῆν ἀφέντες πάντα ἠκολούθησαν αὐτῷ. Leaving everything, including families

295

No comparable action has been taken in response to a miracle so far. Similarly, Tannehill 1986–1989: 1:9. Jesus’ proclamation (κηρύξαι: Lk 4.18, 19; cf. 4.44) of release (ἄφεσις: 4.18) for captives and the year of the Lord’s favour is closely linked to John’s proclamation (κηρύξαι: 3.3) of baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins (ἄφεσις ἀμαρτιῶν: 3.3) – see also γνῶσιν σωτηρίας... ἐν ἀφέσει ἁμαρτιῶν αὐτῶν: 1.77). 297 Similarly Gäbel 2013: 546. 298 Gäbel (2013: 546), incorrectly translating θάμβος as “Schrecken” and “Erschrecken,” misses this point. 299 So, too, Tannehill (1986–1989: 1:204). Gäbel (2013: 544) sees in Simon’s words a contrast with the request for Jesus to stay in Capernaum (Lk 4.42) and a correspondence with the rejection of Jesus by those in Nazareth (4.28–29). This set of contrast and correlation seems pressed (neither does Simon try to kill Jesus, nor is the request to remain in Capernaum deemed appropriate). More certain is the connection with the predictions in chs. 1–2 that Israel will be turned from sin towards God, preparing a way for salvation. Simon’s response should be to repent from sin, not to send away God’s messiah because of his sin. 296

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

345

and catch of multitudinous fish, 300 and following Jesus, Simon, John and James (and others) demonstrate an ideal response in numerous regards. 301 By accepting Jesus’ gracious invitation, the disciples have implicitly received God’s forgiveness, mediated through him. The absence at the story’s end of any reference to the crowds, introduced as were Peter and his coworkers at the opening, is curious. Nothing is said of their potential response or of the spread of the news of the miracle, as in Capernaum (Lk 4.37). In fact the miracle seems to remain private. Some contrast may be implied between Simon, whose multiple acts of obedience to Jesus’ words secure a miracle, and the crowds who are described as (merely) “listening to the word of God.” At any rate the story offers a complex, introductory portrayal of Simon, who, associated closely with John and James, becomes representative of the disciples, in both their strengths and failings. 302 Will Jesus’ success be limited to so small a number as this? What of the crowds? Jesus’ prediction, the episode’s peak, is that Simon – by extension the others, too – will be a fisher of humans. 303 This adds to the plot, indicating Jesus’ success will come, at least in part, through his disciples. Jesus’ catching Simon and his partners is only a beginning. Perhaps, then, the absence of joy and/or praise here is fitting. But, should not the drawing-in of a few sinners also inspire joy? Simon and the others, then, have yet to develop in their understanding of God’s unfolding plan. Their joy, though it linger, must come. X. Luke 5.15 In a following miracle story (Lk 5.12–16) when a leper falls on his face before Jesus and pleads for healing, Jesus heals him and commands him not to tell anyone but to show himself to the priest as a witness. It is unclear what the leper does – no response is recorded. But, in contrast to the preceding story, the miracle here does not stay private. The “crowds’” response of two elements – reporting and physical (coming to Jesus) – is summarising material (5.15): διήρχετο δὲ μᾶλλον ὁ λόγος περὶ αὐτοῦ, καὶ συνήρχοντο ὄχλοι πολλοὶ ἀκούειν καὶ θεραπεύεσθαι ἀπὸ τῶν ἀσθενειῶν αὐτῶν. 300

So Gäbel 2013: 544, 546. Achtemeier (1978: 550) also notes how the first disciples’ following Jesus occurs in response to a miracle. 302 So, too, Kingsbury 1991: 111. Peter is the first named individual, other than John, to appear in a story during Jesus’ adult life. 303 Gäbel (2013: 545) correctly observes how the background comments of Lk 5.9–10a, regarding the fishermen’s emotional response, slows down narrated time, adding to the sense of resolution that comes with Jesus’ answer (5.10b). 301

346

Chapter 4: Luke

The spread of the word about Jesus (ὁ λόγος περὶ αὐτοῦ) may recall the preface (1.2). 304 That many are coming to hear Jesus’ teaching and be healed suggests some success on Jesus’ part. On the other hand, the crowds’ response is contrasted with Jesus’ removal from populated areas, for prayer (5.16). The question seems left open. XI. Luke 5.25b–26 A third miracle story (Lk 5.17–26) in the sequence introduces a theme of conflict with religious authorities. 305 They are many: Pharisees and teachers of the law (or Pharisees and scribes [5.21]) from “every” village and Jerusalem. The healing of the paralytic follows Jesus’ pronouncement of forgiveness for the man’s sins and is brought as evidence for the authority of the Son of Humanity behind it. Recalling earlier predictions (1.51; 2.35) Jesus exposes the thinking in the hearts of the religious leaders (5.22), which is hostile to God’s work in Jesus. 306 The recipient of the healing responds, followed by all those present (5.25b–26): ...ἀπῆλθεν εἰς τὸν οἶκον αὐτοῦ δοξάζων τὸν θεόν. καὶ ἔκστασις ἔλαβεν ἅπαντας καὶ ἐδόξαζον τὸν θεὸν καὶ ἐπλήσθησαν φόβου λέγοντες ὅτι εἴδομεν παράδοξα σήμερον.

Of the three main elements – speech (praise [twice], default speech), emotion (amazement, fear), seeing – the praise, suggestive of joy, occurs in miracle stories of Jesus’ adult life for the first-time here. The healed man and then everyone praise God for the miracle. 307 The host of angels’ prediction of joy for “the whole people” (2.10) is now beginning to be fulfilled. Praise is tied to forgiveness of sins and healing – both have been foretold. Such praise following healing recalls the restoration of Zechariah’s speech. 308 Unexpect-

As λόγος (λόγοι) has been used frequently regarding Jesus’ teaching (Lk 4.22, 32, 36; 5.1), a reference in 5.15 to the preface is possible, but not certain. 305 Another related source of tension is limited access to Jesus, on account of the crowd (de Long 2009: 183–184). 306 Similarly Tannehill 1986–1989: 1:43. 307 On the ironic criticism the praise produces for charges against Jesus of blasphemy, see Culpepper (2000: 126). 308 De Long (2009: 185) observes four instances in Lk where the notice of immediate (παραχρῆμα) healing, is followed by praise (1.64; 5.25; 13.13; 18.43). Contra de Long (2009: 183), however, “the silence of Zechariah” does not offer a model for “narrative structure” here. Zechariah’s silence resulted from disbelief in a message from God, despite the miraculous appearance of an angel. Upon the healing of the paralytic, a response of praise comes immediately. 304

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

347

edly, all of Jesus’ opponents have become those praising God for his work, effected by Jesus. This is a mighty turn-around. Will such a posture last? 309 Strangely, the religious leaders’ praise comes with amazement (ἔκστασις) and fear (φόβος). Given precedent in the opening chapters, the combination of praise and amazement creates a complex portrayal, suggesting insufficient understanding. 310 At the same time this is the first event during Jesus’ adult life to evoke fear (though cf. Lk 5.10), while amazement has been prevalent in relation to Jesus’ teaching and miracles. It recalls fear from the earlier stories, including again Zechariah’s healing. There is, then, a sense of progress from the miracle story in Capernaum to this one, though the content of the speech does not show this, in light of Peter’s recent response. The story’s highpoint is Jesus’ speech and the man’s corresponding acts of rising, taking his matt and going to his home, along with his response of praise (Lk 5.22–25). His praise is not tainted. It finds its source in both healing and forgiveness. On the one hand, the scene recalls the calling of the disciples, notably Peter, who through an act of physical movement received the forgiveness of God mediated through Jesus’ mission. On the other hand, one is reminded of the shepherds who at the end of another miracle story similarly left the presence of Jesus, praising God for the encounter. Though not all recognise or embrace God’s work through Jesus, at least not fully, it would seem that – now in his ministry as at his birth – it is coming to fruition in the lives of the socially disadvantaged, especially the desperate, the sinners, those aware of their need. XII. Luke 6.11 The previous story is the first in a series of four conflicts with the Pharisees (and scribes). In the middle two stories Jesus’ disciples are also brought into the line of fire. The remaining interaction is, like the first, a story of healing (Lk 6.6–11). Both pertain to the authority of the Son of Humanity (5.24; cf. 6.5 regarding the Sabbath) and involve Jesus’ knowledge of the thoughts of his opponents (5.22; 6.8). Jesus’ healing of a man’s crippled hand, the second healing on the Sabbath in a synagogue, provokes a negative response from the scribes and Pharisees (6.11): αὐτοὶ δὲ ἐπλήσθησαν ἀνοίας καὶ It is probable that ἅπαντες in Lk 5.26 includes the Pharisees and scribes (so, e.g., Tannehill 1996: 107; de Long 2009: 186). Still some hesitation is warranted, given the statement about crowds, generally, in 5.15. Nevertheless, the hyperbolic number of religious leaders in one house listed in 5.17 would all but preclude the presence of many others. 310 Amazement has been associated with a lack of understanding at a number of points in the opening episodes. It is contrasted with praise in some cases (1.63b and 1.64b [a response]; 2.18, 20 [a response]; 2.28–32, 33). 309

348

Chapter 4: Luke

διελάλουν πρὸς ἀλλήλους τί ἂν ποιήσαιεν τῷ Ἰησοῦ. Characters so far whose actions bear the closest similarity to those of Jesus’ opponents were those in the synagogue in Jesus’ hometown. Indeed there is continuity in the emotion (anger) and its articulation. 311 Further comparison is invited when the story of the healing of the paralytic is brought alongside this one. At that time all the scribes and Pharisees surprisingly responded with praise to the healing. Now they are filled with anger. A similar development of attitudes towards Jesus took place in Nazareth (though just one story is in question there). And as opposition to Jesus is linked with those whose hearts are hard and are unaware of their sins, Jesus religious’ opponents here and his opponents in Nazareth bear further similarity. The response in the present story is more tame than the final actions of those in Nazareth, though, as no attempt is made to kill Jesus, nor is such an intent mentioned. Still, the sifting of the wheat and the rising and falling of many is already taking place. Luke 6.11, the high point of the story in question, serves also as a peak to the opening stories of miracles and conflicts. XIII. Intervening material That Jesus calls the Twelve immediately after this series of conflicts has an ominous effect. A summary of many healings, now in the presence of a large “crowd” of disciples and many of the “people,” comes without indication of characters’ reactions. Rather, it is a prelude to a lengthy teaching to disciples, in which Jesus, who depicts his own teaching as a superior understanding of the Scriptures, associates his disciples’ joy with being hated and rejected on account of the Son of Humanity. The effect of such a contrast, alongside a host of injunctions for them to love and show kindness to their enemies, has an effect similar to that of Simeon’s private words to Mary. The joy predicted by the angels for all the people contained no sense of foreboding, as found here. The teaching closes on a note of warning. Even those disciples who hear Jesus but do not do what he teaches will find ruin. Conversely obedience brings security in a time of disaster. Simon’s model of obedience is recalled – showing also that a demonstration of God’s power, too, can result from obedience. As the time of instruction closes there is a notice that all the “people,” Lk 4.28: ἐπλήσθησαν... θυμοῦ; 6.11: ἐπλήσθησαν ἀνοίας. Less likely is Tannehill’s (1996: 112) suggestion that the latter phrase indicates, in context, “lack of perception shown by the scribes and Pharisees throughout 5:17–6:11.” Culpepper’s (2000: 135) English rendering of “mindless fury” captures the sense well. Note in 5.31–32 Jesus likens himself to a doctor and the sick to sinners. Jesus’ words in Nazareth explaining why he could do no healing, just as the proverbial doctor cannot heal himself, are now to be interpreted as a denouncement of his opponents there as sinners (cf. Roose 2013: 563). The Pharisees and scribes now join their ranks. 311

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

349

not just the addressees, the disciples, heard Jesus speak. Perhaps some confirmation is found for the suggested contrast between the disciples and the crowd in the story of the miraculous catch of fish. 312 Phraseology that evokes the motif of fulfillment (ἐπλήρωσεν: Lk 7.1) opens the next miracle story (7.1–10). 313 In Capernaum a Gentile representative of Roman rule sends Jewish elders to Jesus to petition him to come heal his precious slave. The Jews speak well of the centurion, who built the synagogue for them. As Jesus nears the man’s domicile, however, the latter has a change of mind, sends Gentile friends to Jesus and requests that Jesus heal his slave by word alone. The centurion expresses his unworthiness to see Jesus face-to-face and articulates in detail his understanding of the nature of having authority. Amazement has until now been characteristically used to describe people’s reactions to Jesus’ teachings and their responses to his miracles. In a twist of the convention, Jesus’ marvels at his petitioner (ἐθαύμασεν αὐτόν: 7.9) and speaks of the centurion’s incredible faith to the crowd about him (7.9). 314 Hearers/readers may well remember the amazement in the Nazareth synagogue, turned into fury (and an attempt on on Jesus’ life) at Jesus’ teaching about Gentiles benefiting from the miracles of Elijah and Elisha in a privileged manner. That amazement finds its ironic counterpart now in Jesus’ amazement at the Gentile benefactor of the Capernaum synagogue, a foreigner whose trust in Jesus 315 affords him not only a miraculous intervention from the God of Israel but also privileged praise from Jesus. The amazement and statement come at the high point of the story. 316 Jesus does not in fact utter a

312

Similarly, see Tannehill 1986–1989: 1:146. The opening clause of Lk 7.1 is a fronted temporal reference. It also gives redundant information (here similar to tail-head linkage) that slows down the pace of the narrative. Both of these features serve the pragmatic function of indicating a break between larger units in the discourse. See Runge 2010: 174 (cf. 131–132), 216. 314 Tannehill (1996: 125) and Hüneburg (2013: 176) note the re-employment of the amazement-response motif. 315 In contrast is the alleged familiarity with Jesus by Jews in Nazareth who could not truly appreciate him. 316 The story is notable for its number of developments, marked with δέ. The centurion’s speech via his friends (Lk 7.6b–8) is a highlighted (tail-head linkage in 7.6b) development. Jesus’ reaction to the speech is the story’s final development (δέ in 7.9a). It is highlighted by two means – tail-head linkage and redundant use of ὁ Ἰησοῦς. (Note I take the two sentences (7.9a–b), linked by καί and conveying the action and speech of one subject, as jointly governed by δέ (7.9a). The final sentence (7.10), linked by καί, is the dénouement.) Popp (2013: 567) agrees with 7.9 being the story’s high point. The participle στραφείς, contrary to his claim, is not what indicates this. To claim that “[t]he point of this story is Jesus’ affirmation of the centurion’s faith” (Culpepper 2000: 156, emphasis added) is only partially correct. 313

350

Chapter 4: Luke

healing word, nor is the healing itself narrated, 317 though the final sentence, the dénouement, narrates the centurion’s friends finding the slave well again (7.10). The story constitutes a thinly veiled criticism of those in Israel who have already seen Jesus’ miracles and heard his teaching but whose faith is weak or, in some cases, worse. The criticism is, on the one hand, particularly pertinent to Capernaum. 318 Whereas Jews here were amazed at the authority of Jesus’ teaching and exorcism, while their questions betrayed a lack of understanding, Jesus’ is now amazed at the centurion’s resolute faith, founded on insight about Jesus’ authority. 319 In addressing the crowd that follows him, which probably is to be seen as including some if not many from the town, he shames them. 320 The Gentile, in fact, built the synagogue, in which the town’s Jews marvelled at Jesus. But the portrayal of the Jews in Capernaum is complex. For even some of the leaders (elders) have a positive association with the centurion. 321 XIV. Luke 7.16–17 As Jesus and those surrounding him, a large crowd and his disciples, approach to enter Nain they encounter another crowd coming out, a funeral procession for a wretched widow’s only son (Lk 7.11–17). Emphasis is laid on Jesus’ compassion and comforting words. 322 He touches the bier – he initiates. When the pallbearers stand still, Jesus speaks, bringing the dead man to life. The response of the now joint body of crowds and, probably, the disciples too is the story’s final development and high point (7.16–17): ἔλαβεν δὲ φόβος πάντας καὶ ἐδόξαζον τὸν θεὸν λέγοντες ὅτι προφήτης μέγας ἠγέρθη ἐν ἡμῖν καὶ ὅτι ἐπεσκέψατο ὁ θεὸς τὸν λαὸν αὐτοῦ. καὶ ἐξῆλθεν ὁ λόγος οὗτος ἐν ὅλῃ τῇ Ἰουδαίᾳ περὶ αὐτοῦ καὶ πάσῃ τῇ περιχώρῳ.

The three elements are emotional, verbal and reporting. Fear and praising God took place previously when the paralytic rose, Jesus’ third (narrated) 317

Cf. Achtemeier 1978: 549; Popp 2013: 567. Jesus’ healing and exorcistic activity has been closely linked with Capernaum, both through the initial reference to Jesus’ miracles (Lk 4.23) and the first story of him performing one (4.31–37). 319 Capernaum Jews were amazed at Jesus’ teaching (ἐξεπλήσσοντο: 4.32) and, jointly, his teaching and exorcism (ἐγένετο θάμβος: 4.36), each of which was associated with his authority (ἐξουσία: 4.32, 36; cf. 7.8). 320 Similarly Popp 2013: 567. 321 On the other hand since authority is the issue at stake in the story, possibly religious leaders, as “Israel,” are criticised (cf. Lk 5.24 and, just after, 7.36–50). 322 Heavy encoding in reference to Jesus in Lk 7.13 achieves the highlighting of Jesus’ compassion. 318

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

351

healing. There however amazement was also present; here fear alone is. The reported speech then pertained to “wonderful things” (παράδοξα). Now the respondents’ words proclaim confidently that God has “visited” his “people,” recalling Zechariah’s words (Lk 1.68; cf. 1.17), and that Jesus is a great prophet raised up by God, answering earlier implicit and explicit questions about who Jesus is. In fact, the response (1.64b–66) to the miraculous loosing of Zechariah’s tongue also involved praise, fear and the spread of news about the event (cf. also the reference to Judea in 7.17 and 1.65). Hearers/readers are reminded that God is fulfilling his promises to redeem his people, 323 made when Jesus and John were just making their way into the narrative. The fear also recalls the responses to the angelic messengers, who announced the promises, and ties this story to those. 324 Finally, the element of reporting describes the widest extent of the spread of news about Jesus so far. 325 The response here, then, constitutes a peak to the series of interactions, including miracles, outlined in the beginning part of Jesus’ ministry. 326 If the disciples number among the respondents, which seems likely, then it is noteworthy that both disciples and two crowds express a common sentiment at this peak moment. It is primarily indicative of success – praise of God, recognition and approval of Jesus. The connection between Jesus and Elijah and Elisha, made by Jesus in his inaugural speech in Nazareth and rejected by those present then, is now finally affirmed by other characters in the Galilee. 327 The response of “all” here displays a corrected attitude possibly also in light of the preceding miracle story (Lk 7.9; cf. 7.29). Yet, hearers/readers will take note that the recognition, thus far, is still only partial. The earlier prophecies about Jesus have indicated that he is to be more than a prophet. And Peter and his two companions may already have recognised something

323 Use of λαός in the mouth of the joint body of crowds (Lk 7.16; cf. 7.1) makes the connection with not only Zechariah’s speech (1.68 [and 77]; cf. 1.21) but also other key speeches at the beginning (1.17; 2.10, 32) more pointed. Possibly the joint crowd in Lk 7 is or resembles God’s people (so Metternich 2013: 574). 324 On Lk 7.16 Metternich (2013: 574) claims: “Das Ergiffensein von Ehrfurcht ist ein immer wiederkehrendes Motiv in Heilungsgeschichten (z. B. Lk 1,12 [sic]; 1,65; 5,26; 8,37) und in Auferstehungsgeschichten....” He misses the complex interaction of fear and amazement in Lk and the sense in which 7.16 reaches a high point (see below) among stories of Jesus’ mighty works of healing, exorcism and resurrection. 325 Building up to this point, during Jesus’ adulthood, are previous responses (Lk 4.37; 5.15) and other material (5.17; 6.17–18) describing Jesus’ fame. Tannehill (1986: 1:86) calls 7.17 “the climax of this development.” 326 Similarly Tannehill 1996: 128. 327 So Culpepper 2000: 157–158; cf. Tannehill 1996: 127–128.

352

Chapter 4: Luke

of this in a more private context. 328 Also, the narrator’s reference to Jesus as “the lord” (7.13) brings out the contrast. 329 Subsequent episodes addressing the possibility of Jesus being (merely) a prophet will show the response near Nain, as good as it is, to be insufficient. 330 XV. Intervening material When disciples of John the Baptiser ask, surprisingly, whether or not Jesus is indeed “the coming one,” Jesus is currently performing various healings. His reply employs motifs known already from responses in miracle stories. He tells them to report what they have seen and heard, listing various healings. Reporting and the collocation of seeing and hearing recalls the response of the shepherds, witnesses of Jesus’ birth, a lacklustre birth for such an expected deliverer. Jesus’ ministry, replete with healings, seems also to defy expectations, even those of his forerunner. 331 Jesus’ subsequent appraisal of John brings about an affirmation by the “people” and the tax collectors and rejection by the Pharisees and their associates. Jesus’ criticism of “this generation,” correspondingly, is against the religious leaders. Another story of conflict with Pharisees follows, as Jesus praises the faith-filled conduct of a “sinful” woman, while the authority he presumes to have to forgive sins is challenged by his opponents. For the first time, through Jesus telling parables in public and interpreting them in private for his disciples, the narrator establishes a clear division between them and all others. 332 The basis for the division is their superior understanding, a feature that distinguished the disciples already in the earliest stories of Jesus’ miracles. 333 God has given them the possibility of knowing the mysteries of God’s kingdom – they are the ones who meant to “see” and to “hear.” In the lead parable, the potential for receiving Jesus’ teaching with 328 The response in Lk 7.16–17, while mentioning both God and Jesus twice, gives more attention to God (similarly, Metternich 2013: 574). The responses of Peter and companions (5.8–10a; 5.11) focused entirely on Jesus. 329 See Culpepper (2000: 158) and Metternich 2013: 572. 330 De Long (2009: 181–183) does not allow for the possibility that praise here (and elsewhere) can be appropriate, yet insufficient (see also Culpepper 2000: 103). Tannehill (1986–1989: 1:86, 145, 148) is open to the possibility. 331 The peculiarity of John the Baptiser’s doubt about Jesus is made stronger, in light of the preceding response of the vast numbers of people, including the disciples probably, to the resurrection near Nain. 332 The possibility of such an implied division was noted above for the earlier teaching context. 333 Tannehill (1986–1989: 1:147) observes how Jesus’ statement (Lk 8.10) makes the crowd’s “lack of understanding” a point on which “the plot begins to pivot,” though there have been earlier indications of this.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

353

joy, but later abandoning it in troubled times, makes explicit the possibility that expressions of joy in the narrative are not necessarily enduring manifestations of the fulfillment of the angelic predictions of joy. This possibility was illustrated graphically, already, in the case of the religious leaders present for the healing of the paralytic. With the emphasis on secret knowledge and exclusivity here, a question arises as to whether the praise of the crowd at Nain is an expression of joy that will endure. Similar to the earlier extended teaching, this one is followed by a short episode, which emphasises the importance of hearing Jesus’ teaching and doing it, linking Jesus’ disciples to the pious characters from the opening episodes. 334 XVI. Luke 8.25b The exclusivity of the disciples’ privileged status finds further expression in the following story (Lk 8.22–25). 335 Recalling the call story of Peter and the others, the disciples – the narrator does not say how many 336 – are once again alone with Jesus in a boat. He falls asleep and a dangerous squall comes up. The disciples awaken him with a cry of desperation. Jesus chastises the wind and waves, which become still. The story thereby moves into a mythic level of narration, as Justin Taylor has observed. This elevated narration style replaces the level of narration characteristic of the previous miracle stories of healing. 337 Here the protagonist is portrayed as not merely superior in “degree” to other humans but superior in kind – a divine being. As in the previous private miracle story Jesus’ speech produces precisely what the disciples desire, though this time the disciples play no part in procuring the miracle. Their response here also resembles that in the earlier story (8.25b): φοβηθέντες δὲ ἐθαύμασαν λέγοντες πρὸς ἀλλήλους· τίς ἄρα οὗτός ἐστιν ὅτι καὶ τοῖς ἀνέμοις ἐπιτάσσει καὶ τῷ ὕδατι, καὶ ὑπακούουσιν αὐτῷ;

Amazement is accompanied by direct speech, an utterance implicitly comparing Jesus to others. Previously the focus was largely on Peter’s insufficiency. 334 Jesus’ mother (Lk 8.20–21) is the narrative’s model of hearing and obeying God’s instruction (1.38). 335 Just as teaching in Lk 6 was followed by two miracle stories, so too the teaching in ch. 8 precedes four such stories. 336 It is unclear how many disciples (μαθηταί) are in the boat with Jesus. Previously a crowd of disciples was referred to (Lk 6.17). Since Jesus picked out the Twelve (δώδεκα; ἀπόστολοι: 6.13) out of a larger body of disciples (μαθηταί) there has not yet been further reference to them. Perhaps the possibility of multiple boats being envisioned should not be ruled out (cf. 5.3). The phrasing of 8.22 makes this unlikely. The difficulty of envisioning what happens is probably the result of an inconsistency in the narrative. 337 Taylor’s (2011: 115–116) observations about the Markan version of this story apply equally to Lk.

354

Chapter 4: Luke

Now the focus is entirely on Jesus. Yet the presence of fear may indicate an intensification of their response. And Peter earlier seemed confident in his response – kneeling before Jesus and describing his inadequacy. There is no physical gesture now and no request. Simply a question 338 mixed with fear and amazement occurs. Ironically, even those to whom it has been given to know God’s mysteries have far too little understanding of the one they follow. Even those privileged to able to “see,” cannot do so fully. The question found in the disciples’ mouths resembles the one asked by those in the Capernaum synagogue, in the first story of Jesus’ acts of power. Various characters have moved from that crowds’ amazement and question asking (Lk 4.36–37) to praise, accompanied by fear – even Jesus’ opponents (5.26; with amazement and fear) and a large crowd (7.16–17; with fear). 339 An escalation has occurred, too, from amazement and a question, through amazement, fear and praise with a statement about generic “wonderful things” to fear (alone) and praise of God with a recognition that God through Jesus is visiting his people. The disciples may have been included in the group in the last of these instances. But a lack is felt. As of yet, strangely, no act of praise has been found specifically on their lips, nor has any other indication of their joy been given. Rather their amazement and question are found here. 340 The response aligns itself with the more inferior responses of characters in previous miracle stories. Will the disciples, in their privileged access to the miraculous, come to show a development of understanding other characters have demonstrated from lesser wonders? At the same time, the joint crowd at Nain recognised Jesus as a great prophet. The question found coming from the disciples (τίς ἄρα οὗτός ἐστιν...) after this private miracle of epiphanic hue would seem to put that identification in question. They have experienced and even learned something more than the others. 341 They just do not yet fully comprehend it. The story has been cast in such a way as to draw an important parallel with a story found in the Scriptures, in Jonah 1. 338

The disciples’ question, which “reveals their inadequate understanding of him” (Tannehill 1996: 145), is their reply to Jesus’ question about their trust in him (similarly, Culpepper 2000: 184). The probable connection with Jesus’ recent teaching (see πιστεῦσαι in 8.13) shows further the inadequacy the disciples’ speech (Tannehill 1996: 144–145). 339 Thus the two prior instances of fear during Jesus’ adult career were both accompanied by praise. 340 Note that questions of this kind (τίς ἐστιν οὗτος ὃς...: 5.21; τίς οὗτός ἐστιν ὃς...: 7.49) previously have been in the mouths of Jesus’ opponents (though see 7.20). In focusing also on Jesus’ authoritative words, the disciples’ response further ties the story together with the preceding teaching (cf. Culpepper 2000: 184). 341 Contra, e.g., Tannehill (1986–1989: 214) who indiscriminately places the disciples here, on account of the question, “on the same level as the crowds, the scribes and Pharisees, and Herod, who raise similar questions.”

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

355

Knowledge of this parallel and its significance is possessed by the informed hearers/readers, in contrast to the disciples. (The parallelism is discussed in Chapter Seven, below.) The response constitutes the high point of the story. Thus the disciples’ lack of understanding regarding Jesus – embodied in the form of a question – takes pride of place in the story. This is a serious problem that God through Jesus will need to address again. Surely God will eventually cause the “rising” of those Jesus chose to be his disciples and who left all to follow him? XVII. Luke 8.34–37a and 8.39b Jesus, for the first time in Gentile territory, finds confrontation and conflict (Lk 8.26–39). After allowing demons possessing a man to negotiate with him, he permits them to enter a herd of pigs, which they drown in the lake. A lengthy response follows (8.34–37a): ἰδόντες δὲ οἱ βόσκοντες τὸ γεγονὸς ἔφυγον καὶ ἀπήγγειλαν εἰς τὴν πόλιν καὶ εἰς τοὺς ἀγρούς. ἐξῆλθον δὲ ἰδεῖν τὸ γεγονὸς καὶ ἦλθον πρὸς τὸν Ἰησοῦν καὶ εὗρον καθήμενον τὸν ἄνθρωπον ἀφ᾿ οὗ τὰ δαιμόνια ἐξῆλθεν ἱματισμένον καὶ σωφρονοῦντα παρὰ τοὺς πόδας τοῦ Ἰησοῦ, καὶ ἐφοβήθησαν. ἀπήγγειλαν δὲ αὐτοῖς οἱ ἰδόντες πῶς ἐσώθη ὁ δαιμονισθείς. καὶ ἠρώτησεν αὐτὸν ἅπαν τὸ πλῆθος τῆς περιχώρου τῶν Γερασηνῶν ἀπελθεῖν ἀπ᾿ αὐτῶν, ὅτι φόβῳ μεγάλῳ συνείχοντο.

Though the motifs of relocation and reporting have occurred before, notably with the sheep herders of socially similar standing in Lk 2, their presence here seems disharmonious. Flight from the scene is a factor. More important, however, is the articulation of fear, twice, the second instance of which is given as the reason that the crowd from Gerash asks Jesus to leave them. Fear has never been combined with so negative an activity as this. The possibility is opened up for fear in an inappropriate response to a miracle being categorically different than the fear that is accompanied, for example, by praise. This is also the second occurrence of a “great” fear. 342 The respondents in the first case, also a response (Lk 2.9c), were key, positively presented characters in the relevant episode. The healed man, though not an active character in the lengthy first response, is described as sitting at Jesus’ feet. The act associates him with another socially marginalised character, whose dignity was restored recently through an encounter with Jesus in which honour and love for Jesus was demonstrated through a gesture focused on his feet (Lk 7.38, 44–46). 343 Instead of accepting the healed man’s request to follow Jesus, Jesus sends him 342 It does not seem that the fear here should be taken as an escalation from the previous fearful response, owing to the different kind of fear – a difference not indicated by lexical choice, of course, but by context. 343 See also Culpepper 2000: 187.

356

Chapter 4: Luke

on a different mission, in Gentile territory. Together Jesus’ speech and the recipient’s response constitute a development unit and the story’s high point. The response parallels the command in terms of components and structure, thereby demonstrating the restored man’s compliance (8.39b; cf. 8.39a): καὶ ἀπῆλθεν καθ᾿ ὅλην τὴν πόλιν κηρύσσων ὅσα ἐποίησεν αὐτῷ ὁ Ἰησοῦς. This time relocation and reporting are positively portrayed, in vivid contrast to the activity of the pig herders. Yet two differences between the command and its fulfillment demonstrate the formerly possessed man’s enthusiasm, obedience beyond the call of duty, and his high appreciation of Jesus. He not only tells his family but also the whole city of his healing. He describes what Jesus has done for him, in place of what God has done for him, demonstrating a great appreciation of Jesus’ agency in his healing. 344 The contrast between command and response, therefore, brings Jesus especially into focus. The motif of exiting the scene while praising God found in the final actions of the shepherds’ response was echoed in the response of the man healed of paralysis. It again finds expression here, though the motif has morphed. The similarities between the said responses cast this recipient in the light of those earlier characters, portraying him positively. The difference between the responses is that the man freed from Legion departs from the scene bringing honour to Jesus verbally, whereas the others have left praising God. This means of focusing on Jesus complements the other one, achieved through the contrast between Jesus’ command and the man’s response. The response of this healed Gentile man outshines that of the disciples in the preceding stilling of the storm episode. Though the former’s access to revelation is more limited than that of Jesus’ closest followers, he would seem to have a better appreciation of Israel’s messiah than they relative to what has been revealed. It is not among the common member of Israel, certainly not the elite, where God’s work through Jesus bears the best fruit. To date it has been with those on the fringes within Israel. Those in Jesus’ home town and also religious leaders have taken up positions of opposition and even violence towards Jesus. Others, responding to a resurrection, have recognised in part God’s work through Jesus. But the socially marginalised – the man healed of paralysis, like the shepherds earlier, and the woman sinner – have acted in especially noteworthy ways in reply to God’s redemptive activity, especially God’s forgiveness. The disciples, of course, also number among such characters, despite their inability to fully appreciate Jesus. For example, recognition of sin and receiving God’s forgiveness were hallmarks of the call narrative of 344 Culpepper (2000: 188) may well be right to speak of a “veiled affirmation” for hearers/readers of the “identity of Jesus” through “the narrator’s parallel phrases in which ‘Jesus’ stands in place of ‘God.’” The affirmation is that of the narrator, not the character.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

357

Peter and the other disciples. Now God’s work is bearing fruit with a marginalised Gentile outside of the context of Israel altogether. Simeon’s prediction of Jesus being a light of revelation for the Gentiles (Lk 2.32) is coming true. What may surprise hearers/readers is how few Gentiles want the revelatory light to shine on them, how many prefer to send it away and remain in darkness. Among the Gentiles, as within Israel, the pattern of Jesus’ limited reception continues. XVIII. Luke 8.47 and 8.56a When back in the Galilee, received by the crowd, 345 Jesus is asked by Jairus, a synagogue ruler, for help for his dying daughter (Lk 8.40–56), the earlier story with the centurion is invoked. 346 This man’s faith is inferior, since he requires Jesus’ on-location presence. Furthermore, the news of a recent resurrection has spread everywhere (7.17). There should be no doubt in Jairus’ mind that Jesus can counteract the terminal illness. On the other hand, his falling at Jesus’ feet suggests positive traits. The intervening story of the healing of the woman suffering from hemorrhaging demonstrates how trust in Jesus can procure a healing even without his knowledge. Jesus’ quest to know who touched him, alongside the miracle, procures a response of five elements (8.47): ἰδοῦσα δὲ ἡ γυνὴ ὅτι οὐκ ἔλαθεν, τρέμουσα ἦλθεν καὶ προσπεσοῦσα αὐτῷ δι᾿ ἣν αἰτίαν ἥψατο αὐτοῦ ἀπήγγειλεν ἐνώπιον παντὸς τοῦ λαοῦ καὶ ὡς ἰάθη παραχρῆμα.

The miracle has not taken her by surprise. But Jesus’ knowledge of it and quest to find her has. Here trembling (τρέμουσα [Lk 8.47], not a lexeme from φοβ*) accompanies the woman’s approach to Jesus. Like Jairus she also falls before him. She announces to all “the people” why she touched Jesus and how she was healed. Reference to “the people” revisits a theme of hope central in the opening chapters and expressed recently in the praise of the crowd at Nain. She joins the ranks of those who have shared with others, in a positive light, the story of their miraculous encouter with God’s power (the shepherds at Jesus’ birth; the formerly possessed Gentile man). 347 Some formal aspects (combination, relative prominence and order of elements and shared lexemes) suggests her response is a(nother) positive counterpart to that of the

Lk 8.40 (ἀπεδέξατο αὐτὸν ὁ ὄχλος) may well recall 4.24. A related point is made by Stare (2013: 585). 346 A similar need and request binds the stories together. So, too, does the relation of the suppliants to synagogues. 347 Similarly Stare (2013: 586). 345

358

Chapter 4: Luke

pig herders. 348 Rather than flee from Jesus, she comes to him. Her trust in him and/or God allows her to do this, despite her fear of possible repercussions. This faith of hers has saved her, Jesus states. The healed woman’s response and Jesus’ affirmation of her faith constitute the episode’s high point. This moment sets the stage for what follows. While news of the death of his daughter presents a challenge to Jairus, the healed woman’s faith presents a role model to him (cf. Lk 8.50). 349 The death of his only child (8.42; cf. 7.12) brings the story of Jairus’ plight closer to the miracle story at Nain. Inside the house Peter, John and James, the parents and mourners are present. After Jesus brings the girl back to life, the parents alone respond, with great amazement (Lk 8.56a): καὶ ἐξέστησαν οἱ γονεῖς αὐτῆς. The closing line is Jesus’ command to them not to tell anyone. The amazement that results, without any accompanying praise or statement, is less impressive than the crowd’s fear and praise of God earlier at Nain. The other recently healed “daughter” (8.48) fell before Jesus. 350 The response of these parents is also less spectacular than that of the many in Gentile territory, though there the respondents did not receive Jesus. Certainly the man delivered from Legion demonstrated a greater appreciation of and for Jesus. This synagogue leader, it seems, has some faith in Jesus, but does not recognise how God’s plan is being fulfilled in him. Important here is that the socially prominent male’s trust in Jesus has grown on account of a socially marginalised woman. 351 XIX. Intervening material Following this series of miracle stories, the Twelve are commissioned for a special task. This is the first time they have been mentioned since Jesus called them apart. They are ready now, too, to cast out demons, heal diseases and proclaim the kingdom of God. Both their reception and rejection is anticipated. As they are about fulfilling their task, their activity, in addition to Jesus’ own, raises Herod’s questions about Jesus’ identity. Various proposals are provided – John the Baptiser, Elijah, another prophet – though it is not clear

348 The said similarities, pertaining only to three elements, are striking – ἰδόντες δὲ οἱ βόσκοντες... ἔφυγον καὶ ἀπήγγειλαν (8.34); ἰδοῦσα δὲ ἡ γυνὴ... ἦλθεν καὶ... ἀπήγγειλεν... (8.47). 349 See Culpepper (2000: 190) on the close connection formed by reference to faith and salvation in Lk 8.48, 50. 350 Contra Stare (2013: 587) Lk 8.47 and 8.56a do not express the same sort of response nor the same extent of development (see below) for the respective characters through the experience of the miracles. 351 So Tannehill 1996: 150.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

359

to whom they belong. This interaction gives a heightened sense of urgency to the question recently asked by the disciples on the lake. When the Twelve return (Lk 9.10–17) they report to Jesus all they have done. They have heard and obeyed his instruction. Hearers/readers may have occasion to wonder again when they, too, will praise God for the fulfillment of God’s promises in this the messianic age, since they do not do so here. 352 When the shepherds brought their report of good news, their mouths were also filled with praise to God. As Jesus’ desire to have distance from the masses is thwarted, he teaches them and heals their sick. The Twelve, seeking to dismiss them at evening, fail to understand Jesus’ intent to have them provide food. 353 Nevertheless their obedience to Jesus in getting the crowd seated is a sufficient expression of trust, in reply to which Jesus procures a miraculous feeding. The Twelve participate, too, in the distribution of the miracle to others – a fitting task for those whose obedience likewise garnished success in their recent bout of proclamation and healing. For the first time there is no response, but not for a lack of interest in how Jesus’ followers and others view him, as the following episode shows. Perhaps the absence of a response here 354 has a magnetic force, drawing the hearers/readers on to the following private scene. At any rate, the story ends with a statement that 12 baskets of bread were left over. Perhaps this is a symbolic reference to the apostles’ involvement in Jesus’ ministry. 355 The other miraculous, abundant provision of food, also had the disciples’ involvement as a key theme, stated towards the end, albeit in the penultimate sentence. Alone with the disciples (a group larger than the Twelve is implied), the question of Jesus’ identity is raised again, now by Jesus himself. 356 As for the opinions of others on the topic, the same three possibilities related to Herod are replicated. Hearers/readers now learn that these are the opinions of “the crowds.” As for the disciples, Peter answers: Jesus is “the messiah of God.” 357 It is evidently affirmed, for Jesus commands his disciples not to tell anyone, but adds, in the same breath that the Son of Humanity must be reject352

Similarly, Tannehill 1996: 151. So, too, Kingsbury 1991: 118; Tannehill 1996: 155. 354 This is perhaps the only miracle story without a response (cf. Lk 4.39c). 355 So Tannehill 1986–1989: 1:216–217. 356 Jesus’ questioning is the capstone in a series (Lk 5.21; 7.20, 49; 8.25b) (cf. Tannehill 1996: 153; Culpepper 2000: 184). 357 Some suggest or argue that Peter (and the disciples) reach this conclusion about Jesus on account of the feeding of the 5000 (Kingsbury 1991: 118; Tannehill 1996: 156; de Long 2009: 221). But, more probably, the realisation is due to their accumulative experiences of, at times with privileged access to, Jesus’ teachings and miracles. At times they have even performed (helped perform) the miracles. Still the feeding miracle may play an important role, too. 353

360

Chapter 4: Luke

ed by Jewish leaders and killed and rise on the third day. 358 The proclamation by many, amidst praise, of Jesus as a great prophet (Lk 7.16) is implicated in Peter’s statement of recognition. 359 At the same time, Jesus’ sudden revelation about his horrific fate suggests that the disciples, too, have not yet understood who he is – that is, what it means for Jesus to be the messiah. Jesus then goes on to explain that his disciples should expect to carry a cross, meaning, he explains, to lose their life. Such foreboding words are familiar from previous teaching contexts. No speech from the disciples is related. Have they understood? XX. Luke 9.32c–33, 9.34c and 9.36b–c When Jesus takes Peter, John and James along with him away from others (Lk 9.28–36), the miracle story of the trio’s call to discipleship is recalled. Elijah and Moses speak with Jesus about the latter’s “exodus,” to be fulfilled in Jerusalem. Both the figures of Moses and Elijah and reference to an exodus, conjure up stories of theophanic encounters at Sinai associated with the two prophets (see further, below, Chapter Seven). Emphasis is placed on the glorious appearance of Jesus in his changed state, the level of narration becoming mythic. 360 The level of narration typical to a work of “romance,” commonly employed in the stories of healings and exorcisms that Jesus effects, has been set aside for something grander. That Peter and the others were sleeping is only mentioned now. The act of sleeping in connection with a private epiphanic encounter recalls the disciples’ prior experience with Jesus in the boat during the storm. Their waking up here gives way to their seeing Jesus. And so begins the first response (9.32c–33): ...εἶδον τὴν δόξαν αὐτοῦ καὶ τοὺς δύο ἄνδρας τοὺς συνεστῶτας αὐτῷ. καὶ ἐγένετο ἐν τῷ διαχωρίζεσθαι αὐτοὺς ἀπ᾿ αὐτοῦ εἶπεν ὁ Πέτρος πρὸς τὸν Ἰησοῦν· ἐπιστάτα, καλόν ἐστιν ἡμᾶς ὧδε εἶναι, καὶ ποιήσωμεν σκηνὰς τρεῖς, μίαν σοὶ καὶ μίαν Μωϋσεῖ καὶ μίαν Ἠλίᾳ, μὴ εἰδὼς ὃ λέγει.

The sleep suggests only a partial awareness of not only the events but also their significance. 361 Peter’s speech coming only after the other two have begun leaving creates the impression that the disciples have been gawking at 358 Simeon’s secret revelation of foreboding for Mary bears some resemblance to Jesus’ revelation here. 359 It was a significant high point, but “[t]he crowd’s confession is not all that Luke will want to say about Jesus...” (Culpepper 2000: 158). If the disciples played a part in the proclamation of Jesus as a prophet, their view has improved. 360 This interest is seen in the initial, detailed description of Jesus’ changed state (Lk 9.29) as well as in the reference to “his” glory (9.32) in the first response, despite the fact that earlier both Moses and Elijah are described as appearing “in glory” (9.31). 361 So Tannehill 1986–1989: 1:224.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

361

the conversation speechless until then. Accompanying Peter’s speech, which apparently does not properly differentiate Jesus from the other two, the narrator gives an inside view of Peter’s faulty thought process. His utterance is void of understanding, despite his deferential addresses of Jesus as “leader” (ἐπιστάτης). 362 The same term was used by disciples, once by Peter himself, in previous private miracle stories (Lk 5.5; 8.24). The second response, occurring as a cloud overshadows the disciples, continues the rhythm of revelation and response. 363 It has only one element, fear (Lk 9.34c): ἐφοβήθησαν δὲ ἐν τῷ εἰσελθεῖν αὐτοὺς εἰς τὴν νεφέλην. There is no praise of God. Fear in such a private context was characteristic in the early episodes of encounters with an angel. Such an encounter, therefore, might be expected, yet it is still not clear what will happen once they are inside the cloud. 364 At any rate, the narrative is now focused on the disciples’ experience. Focalisation through these characters works to elicit sympathy for them in their inability to understand what they have seen and are now undergoing. The voice from heaven speaks to the three disciples, refocusing their attention on Jesus. A presentation of Jesus as a chosen son recalls the words spoken by a similar voice from heaven when Jesus was baptized. 365 There too Jesus’ act of prayer preceded, perhaps precipitated, the encounter and revelation. 366 A shadow of doubt is thrown, then, on the recent proclamation of Jesus as messiah by Peter. If his speech here was void of understanding, perhaps his earlier confession was also less than perfect. 367 The disciples’ fear and the following divine speech (Lk 9.34c–35) constitute the episode’s peak. At the center of this story is a fearful, divine correction of the disciples’ misunderstanding. This concern is revisited and elaborated on in what follows. Suddenly, Jesus alone is present. It would seem that the cloud has quickly disappeared. The third and final response has two negative elements, speech and reporting, along with a revisitation of their visual observation of the previous occurrences (Lk 9:36b): καὶ αὐτοὶ ἐσίγησαν καὶ οὐδενὶ ἀπήγγειλαν ἐν 362 Tannehill (1986–1989: 213) notes: “...when used by the disciples, this title always appears in situations in which the disciples fail to understand Jesus’ power or purpose (see 5:5; 8:45; 9:33, 49). 363 Culpepper (2000: 205): “The... scene... moves between revelatory disclosures and responses from the disciples.” 364 Repetition in the prepositional clause ἐν τῷ εἰσελθεῖν αὐτοὺς εἰς τὴν νεφέλην (Lk 9.34c) of information recently stated (9.34a–b) slows the narrative down in anticipation of what will happen inside the cloud. 365 Lk 3.22: σὺ εἶ ὁ υἱός μου ὁ ἀγαπητός, ἐν σοὶ εὐδόκησα; 9.35: οὗτός ἐστιν ὁ υἱός μου ὁ ἐκλελεγμένος, αὐτοῦ ἀκούετε. 366 Similarly Culpepper 2000: 205. 367 Tannehill (1986–1989: 214, 219, 221) also takes God’s statement here as superior to Peter’s statement (Lk 9.20), both of which he sees as answering the series of questions, beginning in 4.22, about the identity of Jesus.

362

Chapter 4: Luke

ἐκείναις ταῖς ἡμέραις οὐδὲν ὧν ἑώρακαν. That their sight is not specifically focused on Jesus may hint at subtle criticism. They do not understand, still, how much more significant it is that they have seen Jesus than the two ancient prophets. The occurrences surrounding Jesus in this episode, narrated in a mythic level, seem to breach the realm of human comprehension. Ironically, those who are privileged to see cannot truly “see.” In the third response the story returns to narrator-focalization, creating distance from the respondents. As a perspective with temporal distance from the events is introduced, the pull towards sympathy for the three disciples is loosened. The narrator proleptically indicates that the revelation of Jesus will remain not only private but also not understood, until Jesus’ exodus is accomplished. 368 XXI. Luke 9.43a After all the miracles that have already been seen, the inability of Jesus’ disciples to remove a demon from a boy (Lk 9.37–45), a dear only child, 369 provokes a distraught chastisement from Jesus of the unbelieving “generation,” which certainly includes them. (Previously the term referred to just the Pharisees and the associates.) When Jesus heals the child all are greatly amazed at the greatness of God (9.43a): ἐξεπλήσσοντο δὲ πάντες ἐπὶ τῇ μεγαλειότητι τοῦ θεοῦ. The said response seems to betray a criticism – would it not be better if they simply praised God? 370 The crowd shows no improvement of their varied opinions of Jesus. Furthermore, the amazement (θαυμάσαι: 9.43b) of those present excluding the disciples, now for all that Jesus is doing, is presented as the framework for a private message to his disciples, concerning not his mighty deeds but his impending suffering. 371 Again he speaks about the soon-coming handing over of the Son of Humanity. Both their lack of understanding – stated three times in rapid succession – and their fear to ask questions recall the recent encounter with Jesus in glory on the mountain. Now it is clear that they did not understand, either, Jesus’ original modification of Peter’s proclamation that he is the messiah of God. A fundamental rift between God’s unfolding plan through Jesus and the disciples has been exposed at its roots. The cause is their faulty understanding, concerning both that Jesus must suffer and die and then rise again and, in the case of the 368

In part the transfiguration is “a proleptic event,” being linked to “Jesus’ ‘exodus,’ his ascension” (Culpepper 2000: 207). For Kingsbury (1991: 119), too, Lk 9.36 indicates the disciples’ incomprehension. 369 This detail, the presence of a crowd and the parent acting as an intermediary recall the two successful resurrection stories (Culpepper 2000: 208). 370 E.g. Culpepper (2000: 209) equates the amazement in Lk 9.43a with praise. 371 Tannehill (1996: 164), noticing this “sharp shift of mood,” does not tease out an implicit critique of the crowd.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

363

privileged three, that Jesus’ glory surpasses that of the greatest prophets of old. 372 XXII. Intervening material As Jesus’ begins his epic journey to Jerusalem (Lk 9.51) he sends out his emissaries to every place he is about to come through (10.1–16). This larger body of disciples, like the Twelve earlier, are commissioned to heal and to proclaim the kingdom of God. In his commissioning speech, Jesus lays heavy criticism against cities from the Galilee that Jesus is leaving behind, including surprisingly Capernaum, on account of the fact that they have not repented despite the miracles Jesus has performed there. 373 This criticism casts doubt upon the appropriateness of the great amazement that occurred following the most recent exorcism, in addition to the response in the Capernaum synagogue initially or at least the enduring nature of that response. 374 Jesus’ criticism here even “makes it doubtful whether the crowd that glorifies God for Jesus’ healings and regards him as a prophet is responding adequately” (Tannehill 1986–198: 148). Though the exorcisms are not related in any detail, those Jesus commissioned return and with joy give a report of their success. At long last the disciples themselves – and not just the Twelve 375 – display joy at the unfolding of God’s plan, a joy predicted at the annunciation of Jesus’ birth. 376 The Satan has been defeated, Jesus affirms. 377 Jesus redirects their joy, however, to their salvation by God. Then he himself bursts into joyous praise to God, evocative in tone of Mary’s, Zechariah’s and Simeon’s earlier praise-filled 372 Conflict with the disciples on account of their failure to understand Jesus’ identity and vocation has been seen already in Lk 8.25 and, even, 5.8. Interpreters tend to focus on just one aspect (e.g. Parsons 1987: 80; Kingsbury 1991: 119). Nevertheless, what immediately follows (9.46–50) highlights the disciples’ failure to understand the nature of the path to service and suffering of those who want, like Jesus, to be great (Kingsbury 1991: 120– 121; Tannehill 1996: 165). 373 Capernaum, it would seem, is among the cities that have not received (δέξασθαι: Lk 10.8–11; cf. 9.35) Jesus, recalling the concept that a prophet is not accepted (δεκτός) in his/her πατρίς (4.24). 374 Tannehill (1996: 177; cf. 1986–1989: 1:85, 88 148) notes that the denunciation makes “clear that Jesus’ deeds of power should produce more than amazement and adulation” and is “followed by severe warnings of the need for repentance....” 375 Tannehill (1996: 173) finds “climactic parallelism” here owing to the “strong statements of success and joy.” 376 Culpepper (2000: 223) reasons similarly. De Long (2009: 214) emphasises Jesus’ refocusing the disciples’ joy. 377 “The [exorcist] work of the disciples, therefore, has even greater significance than they may have grasped: it signals the coming of God’s sovereign reign on earth” (Culpepper 2000: 224).

364

Chapter 4: Luke

speech. The cause of Jesus’ praise is the hidden nature of the unfolding of God’s plan through Jesus. 378 The father can only be known by the son and those to whom he reveals him. The wise, of whom the religious leaders are emblematic, are ironically subordinated to the “children,” Jesus’ followers – a familiar theme (cf. 1.52–53), now exemplified. The disciples’ eyes and ears are experiencing the fulfillment of ancient prophets’ and kings’ expectations of the messianic age. This joy, then, over the power of the messiah characterises Jesus’ communion with his disciples, ironically, on the road to his execution, though the disciples still do not comprehend its necessity. The bitter words of Simeon, too, lurk not far in the background. XXIII. Luke 11.14c–16 Encounters with various people evoke Jesus’ teaching, as does a disciple’s question about prayer. In the same way a story of an exorcism (Lk 11.14–36) sets the stage for teaching about the power behind Jesus’ activity. “Open opposition to Jesus emerges from the crowd” for the first time (Tannehill 1986–1989: 1:149). After a briefly narrated exorcism that opens the episode comes the response (11.14c–16): καὶ ἐθαύμασαν οἱ ὄχλοι. τινὲς δὲ ἐξ αὐτῶν εἶπον· ἐν Βεελζεβοὺλ τῷ ἄρχοντι τῶν δαιμονίων ἐκβάλλει τὰ δαιμόνια· ἕτεροι δὲ πειράζοντες σημεῖον ἐξ οὐρανοῦ ἐζήτουν παρ᾿ αὐτοῦ.

The expression of amazement alone on the part of “the crowds” is not hostile, but not necessarily promising either, resembling the most recent exorcism in which amazement alone occurred also, made suspect by Jesus’ related criticism of “this generation” and subsequent denunciation of the Galilean villages. There is no praise or joy, as was found in the disciples’ and Jesus’ reaction to the many exorcisms on the road to Jerusalem. Still, the words of some here, equating Jesus’ power to that of Beelzeboul, are almost the all-time low point in responses thus far. At least those in the Decapolis, while rejecting Jesus, did not speak so ill of the source of his power. The backgrounded request for a sign from heaven made by others, testing Jesus, employs a word found only in the devil’s testing of Jesus in the wilderness. The request cannot be a good omen for those asking it. 379

378

So, too, Kingsbury 1991: 124; Tannehill 1996: 179; de Long 2009: 218. Tannehill (1996: 191; cf. 177) observes here a growing negative characterisation: “The crowd has responded [previously] to Jesus with excitement and amazement, but the inadequacy of their response is beginning to show.” 379

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

365

Jesus replies to this set of responses, addressing each of the two sub-sets in sequence. 380 His justification of his power, disproving that he is aligned with forces of evil, also provides a summons for others to radically realign with him personally. It may also serve as a warning. The threat of becoming redemonised, in a worse way, is open to those who have received the benefit of Jesus’ activity (in the Galilee) but have not aligned themselves with him. As another criticism against this “generation” ensues, this time Jesus’ focuses on the misguided quest for a sign. The fact that a group of some characters in the recent response to a miracle, who requested a sign, are now in some way representative of the generation creates some problems in the narrative, while Jesus’ speech casts doubt on the appropriateness of the crowds’ amazement. At any rate, Jesus puts himself in the centre of what is at stake – the “something” greater than Solomon and Jonah. 381 Repentance (Lk 11.32; cf. 10.13) is, again, what Jesus is looking for. XXIV. Intervening material A litany of criticisms against the Pharisees and scribes quickly follows, bringing about greater opposition, potentially lethal in nature. 382 But a gap between Jesus’ followers and the increasingly reckless crowds is also growing. Its growth is delineated in Jesus’ speech in private to his disciples. Even family members will be turned against each other on Jesus’ account (Lk 12.49–53; cf. 2.34). Both Galileans and Judeans are in danger of destruction, if they will not repent. And even among his disciples not all will remain safe. Generosity to those in need is especially key to remaining faithful to Jesus. XXV. Luke 13.13c and 13.17b–c Jesus, continuing to teach in synagogues on the Sabbath, heals a woman from a disabling back condition through an exorcism (Lk 13.10–21). 383 The healing produces a positive response, as the recipient praises God (13.13c): καὶ ἐδόξαζεν τὸν θεόν. The first recipient of healing from Jesus to respond, like380 Böttrich (2013: 604, 605) notes that the two smaller groups, in contrast to the crowds, are Jesus’ interlocutors in Lk 11.17–23 (he mentions 11.25–26 too). Yet part of Jesus’ address to the crowds (11.29–36), still within the series of interactions following the exorcism, is also pertinent (so, Tannehill 1996: 195). 381 The neuter relative pronoun is probably to be taken as Jesus’ veiled self-reference 382 Cf. Jesus’ speech about the disciples’ death at the hands of the opponents (Lk 12.4– 5). Note a Pharisee is amazed (ἐθαύμασεν: 11.38) at Jesus for not washing before eating. 383 The closing boundary of this story is debated. Introduction of the parables in Lk 13.18–21 is not accompanied by any change of characters or timeframe (or heavy encoding of reference to Jesus). Rather the connective οὖν, rare in Lk, is used, indicating a close connection (and development). Hübenthal (2013: 615) allows for the possibility.

366

Chapter 4: Luke

wise in a context of Jesus’ teaching, also praised God. 384 And, as in that story, here debate with Jesus’ opponents occurs. In the present story, however, the synagogue ruler, who levels criticism at Jesus, is only introduced after the healing and the woman’s response have taken place. 385 This character is much less amicable, of course, than Jairus (also an ἀρχισυνάγωγος). Jesus’ line of questioning (and reasoning), in addition to the miracle, brings about the second response (13.17): καὶ ταῦτα λέγοντος αὐτοῦ κατῃσχύνοντο πάντες οἱ ἀντικείμενοι αὐτῷ, καὶ πᾶς ὁ ὄχλος ἔχαιρεν ἐπὶ πᾶσιν τοῖς ἐνδόξοις τοῖς γινομένοις ὑπ᾿ αὐτοῦ.

The shame of Jesus’ opponents, of whom the synagogue ruler is but one representative, contrasts with the joy of the crowd. The recipient unequivocally praised God. The crowd, however, is joyous about the glorious things Jesus is doing. This is, of course, something desirable. But could what is lacking – repentance – sour the picture? 386 The last occasion in which crowds were amazed at what Jesus was doing was followed by heavy criticism of “this generation,” with the failure to repent underscored (Lk 11.32; and cf. recently 13.3, 5). 387 Joy rather than amazement is now present. This is potentially qualitatively superior. But the recent talk of impending disaster for Galileans and Judeans alike (13.1–9), unless they repent, puts the sufficiency of such joy in question. 388 It is unclear if the shame of Jesus’ opponents will breed enhanced hostility. It is possible. The previous controversy in a synagogue about work on the Sabbath brought about the rage of the Pharisees and their scheming against him (6.11). Yet the shame here implies silence on the part 384 The responses to healing/resurrection in Lk 5.26 and 7.16, containing praise, were positively portrayed. The latter (see discussion above), constituting a peak in the progression of responses in Jesus’ early ministry, focuses on both God and Jesus. That Jesus is not mentioned in 13.13c does not seem an indication of a lack here (though Jesus is alone in focus in 13.17b). The woman’s response is given briefly, allowing for rapid movement into the confrontation. (For Hübenthal [2013: 616] the woman’s praise [and two passive forms in 13.12b–13a] indicate that God, not Jesus, is the true source of the healing [cf. Culpepper [2000: 273].) 385 Hübenthal (2013: 616–617) notes how interactions in the story are clearly divided in two (Lk 13.10–13, 14–17). As in 5.17–26, so in 6.6–11 the controversy takes place between the introduction of the disabled person and the healing. De Long (2009: 188–189) observes how interim tension is created by the fact that initially just one individual responds. 386 So Tannehill 1986–1989: 1:151–152. 387 Again see Tannehill (1996: 177), also, on Lk 11.14c, followed by 11.29–32. Similarly, earlier amazement at all Jesus was doing (9.43b) was in the context of his condemnation of the generation (9.41). 388 In Lk 13.6–9 “Jesus speaks to the crowds the way John did” (Tannehill 1986– 1989: 1:151).

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

367

of Jesus’ opponents. All three character (groups) in the episode besides Jesus have responded. The story closes with two parables indicating that the kingdom of God begins as but very small, but later has great effects. It is possible that the parables put the crowds’ response, too, into question. XXVI. Intervening material Suspicion of the crowds’ response seems to find further support in a following warning from Jesus that only a few will be saved from the disaster that is impending. And Jerusalem, where Jesus was found as a boy discussing the Scriptures with learned scholars, gets characterised by him, generically, as a murderer of God’s prophets. 389 XXVII. Luke 14.6 Another conflict with Pharisees on the Sabbath (Lk 14.1–24), 390 now at a home, repeats some essential details from the recent synagogue episode. Jesus heals someone with a physical ailment and afterwards argues, through use of a question, that healing on the Sabbath is permissible. The conflict in this story begins before the healing of the man with a withered hand and is initiated by Jesus himself, while his opponents (Pharisees and scribes) remain speechless (14.4a). His opponents’ response revisits this idea, now mentioning not just silence but an inability to speak (14.6): καὶ οὐκ ἴσχυσαν ἀνταποκριθῆναι πρὸς ταῦτα. The healing along with Jesus’ question, as in the earlier story, inspire the response. 391 Perhaps shame can be infered, in light of the response in the similar scenario. But given the absence of a crowd, whose presence the domestic setting would seem to preclude, 392 such shame may be alien to the scene. At any rate, being at a loss for words is a response with a single negated motif. The various instances of speech, includ-

389 On Lk 13.32–35; 19.41–44; 21.20–24; 23.27–31 see Tannehill (1986–1989: 1:156), who observes that the “tragic effect of these passages is all the stronger because of the joyful expectation” of Jerusalem’s redemption in Lk 1–2. 390 It is not best to designate Lk 14.7–14, 15–24 separately as “Episoden von Jesu »Tischrede«” (Le Roux 2013: 627). The text indicates continuity of characters (14.7, 12, 15), time and theme – 14.1–24 is best seen as one episode. 391 Similarly Le Roux (2013: 627). Here the opponents’ response (πρὸς ταῦτα: 14.6) and the healing (14.4b) and question (14.5) are more closely connected than in the previous story, owing to intervening material there (13.13c–14), including the woman’s response (13.13c). 392 In Lk 7.36–50, at the home of a Pharisee, Jesus’ rebuff of his host provokes a question (7.49) not embarrassment.

368

Chapter 4: Luke

ing praise, following miracles find a stark contrast in this silence. 393 Jesus’ busy role speaking and acting is contrasted by the twice noted silence of his opponents. 394 As in the recent story, parables by Jesus fill the remainder (here, also the majority) of the story. Their thrust is that the poor and other socially undesirables are to be honoured. They are also those who are responding to Jesus’ call, while the wealthy are not. 395 By implication, as in Jesus’ reading in the Nazareth synagogue, the poor are related to or are those who get healed. Those missing out on God’s banquet are the rich, those who do not need healing or both. One of the “rulers” of the Pharisees, though he does not act independently in the episode, is the recipient of criticism from Jesus at one point (14.12–14). 396 XXVIII. Intervening material A series of parables focus on God’s joy at the repentance of sinners (Lk 15.7, 10, 32), providing justification for Jesus’ behaviour in eating with tax collectors and sinners against the criticism of the scribes and Pharisees. Other parables reinforce the need to be generous – a view that the “greedy” Pharisees cannot accept. Even resurrection from the dead will not cause the greedy to stray from their obsession. On the other hand the calls to repentence make dubious the nature of the relation between Jesus and a crowd that has begun to join him (14.25) on his journey to Jerusalem. 397 XXIX. Luke 17.15–16a Jesus encounters 10 lepers who request mercy (Lk 17.11–19). Rather than touch them, as previously, he sends them to the priests. Their obedience secures their healing, underway to the priests. The response in the story belongs to one of the recipients only (17.15–16a): εἷς δὲ ἐξ αὐτῶν, ἰδὼν ὅτι ἰάθη, ὑπέστρεψεν μετὰ φωνῆς μεγάλης δοξάζων τὸν θεόν, καὶ ἔπεσεν ἐπὶ πρόσωπον παρὰ τοὺς πόδας αὐτοῦ εὐχαριστῶν αὐτῷ.

393 The three disciples’ response (Lk 9.36b–c), with negated verbal and reporting elements, has less similarity than may appear at first glance, owing to differences of scene, miracle type and progression internal to the respective stories. 394 Similarly Le Roux (2013: 629). The observation is made stronger when the parables are taken as part of the story. 395 So, too, Tannehill 1996: 233. 396 He receives positive instruction (note μακάριος ἔσῃ: 14.14), not simply rebuke and judgment. There is more hope for him than for the synagogue ruler (13.14). In fact, unlike the latter, all Jesus’ opponents here can say nothing against him, whether good or bad. On the possible meanings of “ruler” of the Pharisees see Le Roux (2013: 628). 397 Similarly, Tannehill 1986–1989: 1:156.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

369

The exuberant praise of God and a deferential posturing towards and thanks to Jesus are clear signs of a positive response. 398 The dual-focus was seen in an early key response (7.16–17). The reference to being at Jesus’ feet (7.38; 8.35; 8.41; 10.39) links the healed man to other positively portrayed characters. Important information – that the man was a Samaritan – is revealed only after the response, linking the recipient and his positive response ever closer to the story of the Gentile leper Naaman, cited by Jesus in his teaching at Nazareth. 399 Jesus’ reply, the episode’s high point, revisits the importance of praise to God following healing. 400 His three questions underscore the disappointing fact that only one of 10 has positively responded, a Samaritan and no Galilean Jew (cf. 17.12). 401 The underlying point seems again that only a few enter the kingdom of God – and not necessarily the Galileans and other Jews that have benefited greatly from Jesus’ activity. 402 XXX. Intervening material The following teaching segments revisit themes of impending judgment, the need for repentance from even the would-be righteous and the difficulty for the rich and powerful to come into the kingdom of God. As Jesus again predicts his forthcoming suffering, death and resurrection – this time to the Twelve only and in great detail – his listeners’ utter lack of comprehension is again underscored (Lk 18.34). 403

398 Ostmeyer’s (2013: 639–640) idea that alliteration with π in Lk 17.16a draws attention to the leper’s movement coming to an end is worth consideration. (It likely is not as an onomatopoeia for halted movement; cf. 10.39.) A juxtaposition of praise to God and thanks to Jesus on the basis of what occurs first (e.g. Culpepper 2000: 326) is unnecessary. 399 Similarly Culpepper 2000: 326–327. 400 As Ostmeyer (2013: 640) and others (cf. de Long 2009: 190) observe, Jesus (Lk 17.18) fails to mention the act of falling before him and thanks to him, while commenting on two other elements in the response (return and praise to God). Nevertheless, the mention of returning implies that the gesture made to Jesus was acceptable, perhaps even expected (Tannehill 1996: 257–258). Jesus previously passed on the opportunity to comment on such posturing towards him (5.10b, 13; 8.42, 48). (This is the only time Jesus is thanked.) In these and like instances the narrator prefers to affirm Jesus primarily not through his’ own speech, but others’ (cf. e.g. 8.39b). 401 The explicitly noted failure to give praise on the part of the nine recalls “the silence of Zechariah” (de Long 2009: 183). Unlike in his case, though, here the tension is fully established only at the story’s end. It is not resolved. 402 The Samaritan here and the one in Jesus’ parable have a strong connection in this regard (Culpepper 2000: 326). 403 As in Lk 9.45, in 18.34 the disciples’ incomprehension is repeated three times in rapid succession.

370

Chapter 4: Luke

XXXI. Luke 18.43b–c As Jesus approaches Jericho, a blind person inquires and finds who is passing by in so large a crowd (Lk 18.35–43). Like the widow in the parable of the unjust judge, this man will not be deterred by the difficulties inherent in his social position or by resistance to his request. This trust in Jesus is rewarded. The response that follows immediately upon the healing is filled with praise (18.43b–c): καὶ ἠκολούθει αὐτῷ δοξάζων τὸν θεόν. καὶ πᾶς ὁ λαὸς ἰδὼν ἔδωκεν αἶνον τῷ θεῷ. The healed man’s act of praising God and a positively portrayed physical action focused on Jesus ties his response together with that of the recently healed Samaritan leper. The poor and the outcasts are entering the kingdom, though the recent rich ruler would not take the invitation. 404 By following Jesus he becomes a disciple. 405 The related praise of the entire crowd, the “people,” indicates that those travelling with Jesus are responding properly to the mighty works he performs. 406 But how will they fare when he enters into his time of suffering? Following the first miracle story in which both a recipient and a crowd of observers respond with praise (5.26b–26), the latter’s attitude turned to anger (6.11), when Jesus’ actions went beyond their understanding and preference. Will this praise too sour in time? It is reasonable to understand those who try to silence the blind man as from the crowd passing by. 407 In that case, a mixed-portrayal already here provides grounds for some hesitation as to the reliability of their praise as an indicator of an (enduring) appropriate response. 408 XXXII. Intervening material The counterpart to the story of the healing of the blind man is the story of Zacchaeus’ joy-filled reception of Jesus and repentance, using his deceitfully gained wealth to win friends (cf. Lk 16.9) among the poor. The Son of Humanity has saved one, a tax collector, that was lost in greed. By implication 404 Unlike the rich ruler, the blind man had nothing to leave behind (Nolland 1989: 3:902). 405 So, e.g., Tannehill 1996: 275; Culpepper 2000: 355. 406 Contra de Long (2009: 190–192) no tension analogous to that created by the delay in Zechariah’s praise following the appearance of an angel is present in this story. Praise follows immediately after the healing. 407 Recently Jesus corrected his disciples for preventing (ἐπετίμων: 18.15) infants from initially getting access to Jesus. Those going ahead of Jesus into Jericho do the same (ἐπετίμων: 18.39) to the blind man. Culpepper (2000: 354) entertains the possibility that the disciples are also the culprits in the latter case. (For a third possibility of the identity of the προάγοντες, see de Long [2009: 191–192]: “people who are socially distinguished or preferred.”) 408 For Tannehill (1996: 157) “the crowd’s reaction shows a blindness which is similar to that of the Pharisees....”

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

371

the fate of the many greedy Pharisees, alongside the rich ruler, looks dismal. A final parable prior to Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem is given to the disciples, unable to grasp the coming suffering, but thinking Jesus will exercise his power in Jerusalem. It warns them to be faithful regardless of how long their expectations are delayed. 409 In retrospect, one grasps that the journey, which had “a few healing stories,” has been primarily about Jesus “preparing his disciples through teachings, while also challenging the crowd and debating his opponents” (Tannehill 1996: 168). Jesus enters Jerusalem as an eruption of joyous praise to God from the mass of his disciples on account of all the mighty deeds they have seen. This response-like sentence 410 fulfills numerous prophecies from the opening stories as it also hosts an echo from the preface. The Pharisees seek to silence Jesus’ disciples. The joy is contrasted also with Jesus’ weeping, as he prophesies doom over the city that does not recognise the hour of its visitation. While Jesus teaches in the temple the people hang on his words. The chief priests and scribes, primarily, oppose him in various confrontations. On the question of taxes they become amazed (θαυμάσαι: Lk 20.26) at his reply and are silenced. 411 Some scribes even commend Jesus on his answer to the Sadducees’ question about the resurrection. Yet the scribes’ love of money and honor, criticised by Jesus, is contrasted with the generosity of a poor widow. This and other teachings from Jesus are directed at the disciples, though they remain throughout “Jesus’ ministry in the temple... passive onlookers and listeners.” 412 As events quickly unfold towards the predicted suffering of the messiah, the portrayal of the disciples’ lack of understanding deepens, though their positive qualities are not overlooked. At the Passover meal, as Jesus speaks about his impending suffering on behalf of the disciples, the disciples break into an argument about who is the greatest. 413 Jesus must redirect their ambitions. They still cannot fathom the necessity in God’s plan for Jesus to willingly submit himself to violent opposition. Nevertheless, the disciples have been faithful. They will eventually rule with Jesus in his kingdom. Peter ex409

Similarly, Kingsbury 1991: 125. Lk 19.37–38: ...ἤρξαντο ἅπαν τὸ πλῆθος τῶν μαθητῶν χαίροντες αἰνεῖν τὸν θεὸν φωνῇ μεγάλῃ περὶ πασῶν ὧν εἶδον δυνάμεων, λέγοντες· εὐλογημένος ὁ ἐρχόμενος, ὁ βασιλεὺς ἐν ὀνόματι κυρίου· ἐν οὐρανῷ εἰρήνη καὶ δόξα ἐν ὑψίστοις. 411 This amazement recalls earlier instances of the emotion in relation to Jesus’ teaching and deeds of power (similarly, Culpepper 2000: 386). The silence recalls the response of Pharisees and scribes to Jesus’ healing of the man with a “shrivelled” hand (Lk 14.6). 412 Kingsbury 1991: 127. 413 Something similar (see above, n. 372) happened related to the great misunderstanding of the disciples following an early prediction by Jesus of his suffering and death (Tannehill 1996: 166, 317–18). 410

372

Chapter 4: Luke

presses a bold, misplaced confidence in himself. Their misunderstanding of Jesus’ words 414 has the disciples bringing weapons along to a place of prayer. Rather than pray so as not to fall into temptation, they sleep – recalling the sleep of three disciples at Jesus’ transfiguration. Jesus’ act of healing, at the moment of his arrest, contrasts with the violent act of one of his disciples, still ignorant of what must happen, though Jesus has explained it so frequently and in detail. That no one reacts to the healing may reveal that the values of all characters involved, other than Jesus, are elsewhere. The bitter weeping of Peter upon recognising his failing in the denial of his Lord is a far cry from the joy spoken of by the host of angels (also Gabriel). The chief priests ironically received joy (Lk 22.5), however, as their sinister plot against Jesus found an enabler in the greedy hands of one of Jesus’ followers. The joy is aligned with the Satan, Judas’ possessor. 415 Jesus’ trial before these and other religious authorities in Jerusalem is followed by another before Pilate, who finds no guilt in him. As with the chief priests, Herod’s great joy (Lk 23.8) at seeing Jesus is ironically presented. His joy is based on his hope to see a miracle performed by Jesus. The hope is short-lived. As Jesus’ silent resistance denies Herod the pleasure, he turns, disappointed, to mockery. The pure joy of seeing the miracles performed by Jesus belongs to the disciples only (cf. 19.37). But at this point in the narrative only those opposing Jesus experience joy. This rich and wealthy Galilean ruler makes friendship with someone of his own kind, on account of his rejection of Jesus. It seems that Zacchaeus and others like him will remain the few characters who abandon greed, avarice and abuse of power to enter the kingdom. 416 With Jesus back in Pilate’s custody, with no explanation the “people” join the religious leaders in calling out for Jesus’ execution. The praise to God for healing near Jericho on the road to Jerusalem has given way to bloodthirsty, unjust shouts against God’s messiah. 417 Pilate acquiesces. Yet,

414 In predicting a time of persecution, Jesus commands the disciples, symbolically, to “purchase” a “sword,” but the disciples take the command literally (Kingsbury 1991: 21, 130). Tannehill (1996: 322) gives an alternative idea. 415 On contrast between Judas and Peter (and the other disciples) regarding the Satan, see Kingsbury (1991: 129). 416 Jairus too and various women disciples must not be forgotten. 417 Tannehill (1996: 335), noting that “there is no explanation” in Lk 23.18 for why “the people are suddenly supporters of the Sanhedrin’s plot,” calls attention to how in Jerusalem the “eager support of Jesus by the people previously protected Jesus (19:47–48; 20:19; 21:38; 22:2).” Possibly the cry for the release of a man with an active role in an uprising, Barabbas, which is the initial utterance of the people in this context, indicates a disappointment in Jesus’ activity (Tannehill 1986–1989: 1:164). At any rate (as Tannehill notes elsewhere – see above, n. 408), even just prior to Jesus’ activity in Jerusalem, the crowd was presented with questionable, if not simply negative traits.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

373

already on the way to the crucifixion site women mourn for Jesus. A mistake has been made and they know it. On the cross, as the “people” stand by and watch, Jesus is mocked as one unable to “save,” in turn, by the chief priests, Roman soldiers and even a criminal on an adjacent cross. Nevertheless he offers salvation at that very moment to a repentant criminal. Zechariah’s prophecy of forgiveness in connection with the messiah (Lk 1.77) and Jesus’ own declaration of his ministry of forgiveness (4.18) found early fulfilment among surprisingly few. Notable were the responses of Peter and the other disciples (5.8–10a; 5.11) – fishermen – and also a man healed of paralysis (5.25b) in miracle stories at the beginning of Jesus’ adult ministry. These characters are not only few but also of little social standing. Later Jesus openly lamented the unrepentant stance of the general populace in many areas he had performed miracles in. Still, there was some success. For example, one socially marginalised woman, without being a recipient of a miracle, had become a profound recipient of forgiveness. Now, at his execution, Jesus is still successfully fulfilling his God-given purpose of providing forgiveness. But the nature of the success is surprising and perplexing for numerous reasons. It occurs in a bizarre and bloody context – one where God’s messiah has been robbed of justice, publically shamed and physically brutalised. And, like in the earlier stories, Jesus’ success is still limited with respect to not only the quantity of those receiving forgiveness but also their lower social status. The reaction of the centurion to Jesus’ death and the accompanying cataclysmic daytime darkness is praise to God and an exoneration of Jesus. 418 Such a twofold focus on God and Jesus has been seen in two important, positively portrayed responses: those of the crowd at Nain and of the Samaritan leper. 419 And praise has been characteristic of positive responses to miracles. 420 One among those who had just been mocking Jesus has seen the light in the darkness. In contrast to the Gentile centurion’s words is the mourning of the crowds. Their actions bear similarity to Peter’s grief, upon the recognition of his failure. 421 It seems theirs was a momentary, though fatal, lapse of 418 Lk 23.47: ἰδὼν δὲ ὁ ἑκατοντάρχης τὸ γενόμενον ἐδόξαζεν τὸν θεὸν λέγων· ὄντως ὁ ἄνθρωπος οὗτος δίκαιος ἦν. 419 It would seem that there as here the focus on both God and Jesus is one means of presenting activity as a more appropriate reply to God’s activity. 420 In responses: Zechariah (Lk 1.64); the shepherds (2.20); the man healed of paralysis (5.25b) and those present then (5.26); the large crowd near Nain (7.16); the woman healed from back difficulties (13.13); the Samaritan leper (17.15); the man healed of blindness near Jericho (18.43b) and the crowd there (18.43c). In related material: a crowd of disciples (19.37); cf. Simeon (2.28). Similarly Culpepper 2000: 462. 421 Tannehill (1996: 346; cf. 335) sees in the peoples’ actions “remorse” and “the beginnings of repentance.”

374

Chapter 4: Luke

judgement. The story is almost portrayed as a miracle story. 422 There is strong emphasis on visual observation of Jesus’ death and the events surrounding it. A comment about the disciples, mention of whom has been absent since Peter’s denial of Jesus, is finally offered. Hearers/readers learn that those “known to” Jesus have been watching all of these happenings from a distance. Despite all their weaknesses, they are there, yet at a safe distance. Strangely, while the people’s reaction is described, the disciples do not say or do anything – only stand and stare. What are their thoughts? How will they react to all this? XXXIII. Luke 24.5a and 24.8–12 The story of Mary Magdalene, Joanna and Mary of Jacob’s encounter at the tomb (Lk 24.1–12) begins after the Sabbath as they return, with burial ointments, to find the stone rolled from the tomb and the corpse missing. Through the narration of their findings and their perplexed reaction to them, characterfocalisation is established. At the same time, the reaction is only a framework (ἐν τῷ ἀπορεῖσθαι αὐτάς: 24.4) for the appearance of two angels (cf. 24.23). Likewise their response to the angelophany is presented, not as a mainline event, but as a circumstantial frame for the angels’ speech (24.5a): ἐμφόβων δὲ γενομένων αὐτῶν καὶ κλινουσῶν τὰ πρόσωπα εἰς τὴν γῆν.... Fear at the appearance of angels is well-known to the hearers/readers from the opening episodes. Fear was present, too, in disciples’ responses in two epiphanic episodes involving Jesus. The first appearance of an angel, Gabriel, was in the holy temple itself. Now, however, two angels visit an unclean tomb. Focalisation through these disciples, accomplished by various means (spatiality, thoughts, emotions, field of vision) helps the hearers/readers to experience along with them the paradigm-shift-making revelation. The activity of angels, occurring elsewhere only in the opening episodes, suggests here something momentous is happening and the narrative is coming to its close. 423 God is at work most openly again, but again only for a very few. Angels, ushering hearers/readers into the narrative, announced the inau422 Of the scene’s nine sentences (Lk 23.44–49) three (yet over half the text) describe reactions to “what happened” (23.47–49). After a sentence giving the time of day, the remaining four (23.44b–46) state: the appearance of darkness; the tearing of the temple’s curtain; Jesus’ cry and prayer; his death. A significant portion of the scene, therefore, is the miraculous occurrences, by which God marks that Jesus’ tragic death is a part of the divine plan. (For an alternative view, that the darkness shows “Satan is fully in control,” see Tannehill [1996: 345].) Yet as the focus in the scene is Jesus’ death and given its placement in the overall narrative, it is best not analysed as a miracle story. 423 Since angels as characters appear in only Lk 1–2 and 24, Parsons states “The angels in Luke 24 provide a sense of circularity, and thus complement the closural effect of the Gospel” (Parsons 1987: 76).

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

375

guration of God’s master plan, foretold long ago in the Scriptures. Now they reappear to announce the accomplishment of that plan. They also help to bring it to its final completion by guiding Jesus’ followers to comprehension of it. The angels’ explanation of the missing corpse and their efforts to stimulate these disciples’ memory of Jesus’ words are rewarded, as the second, lengthy response demonstrates (24.8–12): καὶ ἐμνήσθησαν τῶν ῥημάτων αὐτοῦ. καὶ ὑποστρέψασαι ἀπὸ τοῦ μνημείου ἀπήγγειλαν ταῦτα πάντα τοῖς ἕνδεκα καὶ πᾶσιν τοῖς λοιποῖς. ἦσαν δὲ ἡ Μαγδαληνὴ Μαρία καὶ Ἰωάννα καὶ Μαρία ἡ Ἰακώβου καὶ αἱ λοιπαὶ σὺν αὐταῖς. ἔλεγον πρὸς τοὺς ἀποστόλους ταῦτα. καὶ ἐφάνησαν ἐνώπιον αὐτῶν ὡσεὶ λῆρος τὰ ῥήματα ταῦτα. καὶ ἠπίστουν αὐταῖς. ὁ δὲ Πέτρος ἀναστὰς ἔδραμεν ἐπὶ τὸ μνημεῖον. καὶ παρακύψας βλέπει τὰ ὀθόνια μόνα. καὶ ἀπῆλθεν πρὸς ἑαυτὸν θαυμάζων τὸ γεγονός.

The first element, significantly, is cognitive. The women’s prior “perplexity turns to enlightenment” (Kingsbury 1991: 132). They understand not only that Jesus has risen from the dead but also that his suffering and resurrection had to happen, in accordance with God’s plan, as foretold in the Scriptures. 424 The reporting to others of an event demonstrating God’s activity has occurred frequently. Yet reporting in association with angels and a location at the extremity of the narrative recalls the shepherds’ bringing the wondrous news of Jesus’ birth to others. 425 Now the reversal of his death is to be announced. The act of reporting is stated twice, delaying and building suspension for the reply of those hearing about the miraculous encounter. 426 Unlike in the case of the shepherds, these witnesses’ message encounters an unqualified and pronounced unbelief. Two similar remarks reinforce the notion (ἐφάνησαν... 424 Lk 24.7 refers to Jesus’ words spoken in the Galilee (9.22, 44). There as here scriptural prophecy is only implicit, through the context (esp. use of δεῖ). That the scriptures are (here) and were (there) in view will become clear in direct speech from Jesus to follow (24.25–27, 32, 44–47). 425 Other similarities bring the stories together. They have two responses, the first being relatively short (Lk 2.29c; 24.5) and involving fear at the initial appearance of the angels and the second being long and complicated (2.15b–20; 24.8–12), involving multiple respondents. In the second response movement and reporting from the recipients of the vision is followed by the actions of various groups who hear the report, including the amazement (θαυμάσαι) of one party (“all those who heard”/Peter) and a cognitive act by the other party (Mary/the apostles). 426 In the first instance an aorist indicative is used (ἀπήγγειλαν: Lk 24.9), a mainline event. Then, following background material introduced at this moment also for the effect of slowing down the narrative (24.10a), the act of reporting is described in the imperfect (ἔλεγον: 24.10b) with the rare asyndeton as the connective, establishing a close relation to the foregoing (Levinsohn 2000: 118). In essence 24.10b gives no new semantic information (though the apostles are singled out now). The restated act, now offline material, serves the pragmatic function of setting an expectation that an important event will follow (on such tail-head linkage see Runge [2010: 163–178]).

376

Chapter 4: Luke

ὡσεὶ λῆρος... καὶ ἠπίστουν). 427 The two elements (cognitive and disbelief), related at some length (12 words) and presented negatively, contrast sharply with the earlier, positive and simply stated cognitive act of the women (5 words). Character-focalisation then and narrator-focalisation now create a further contrast. Sympathy from hearers/readers is not elicited for these unbelieving disciples. Perhaps Peter, running to the tomb, will fare better. Peter’s actions, the final part of the long response (Lk 24.12), constitute a development unit and are jointly the story’s highpoint. Special attention is given to the final sentence, since his act of seeing the grave cloths only, narrated with the historical present, points forward to it. The anticipated concluding action, however, is a disappointing moment. Peter is merely amazed at “the happening” and leaves the scene, going nowhere in particular. Unlike the shepherds, the man healed of paralysis, the Gentile set free from Legion and, most recently, the women disciples, Peter’s final act of leaving the scene is not positively portrayed by means of an accompanying act of praise or reporting. As in previous stories of epiphany, here too amazement generated at a farther distance from the miraculous occurrence is contrasted with the fear that characterises the (initial) response of the recipients. Worse, the amazement here implies incomprehension, as in some previous cases (1.21, 63), and bewilderment. 428 Acting individually, Peter sets himself apart, but not in the way that Jesus intended (cf. 22.32). 429 Peter’s bewilderment, like the unbelief of the other disciples, is negatively contrasted with the successful cognitive act of the women. 430 For only a few the great conflict between God and humans has been resolved. Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary of Jacob and the other women have understood and aligned themselves with God’s curious plan for salvation. Like in the transfiguration, however, dullness at a time of great revelation about Jesus in which two (other) heavenly beings are involved – dullness on the part of those who would be Jesus’ most trusted companions – will require God’s patience and further revelation. This point of tension is sharpened by the fact that Peter’s problematic actions are the peak 427 Note use of the imperfect, in describing the disciples’ disbelief, presents (important) background information leading up to the next development in the story, Peter’s actions. 428 So, too, Kingsbury 1991: 133; Tannehill 1996: 351. 429 Peter’s lack of faith/faithfulness (cf. πίστις: Lk 22.32) to Jesus, in contrast to the women disciples, is at stake here. The argument for the originality of the Western text (D), which does not have 24.12, on the basis that “the verse serves to place apostolic confirmation upon the fact of the empty tomb” (Parsons 1987: 36), is not convincing. 24.12 is in fact an embarrassment for Petrine and apostolic authority, even if thereby Peter becomes, ironically, a witness. Male, probably apostolic, confirmation of the empty tomb is already present, and better portrayed, in 24.24. 24.34 provides a far better portrayal of Peter (the first male/apostolic witness of the resurrected Jesus). And that verse is present in D. 430 Similarly, Kingsbury 1991: 132.

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

377

of the episode. Still God’s success seems certain, part of the plan. But how will the tension be resolved? Jesus’ gracious words to Peter, following an initial problematic response on the part of the latter, saved the day when Peter and his companions were first called to be Jesus’ followers. Perhaps such intervention for Peter’s sake again can be anticipated. XXXIV. Luke 24.31a–b and 24.32–35 Jesus makes his post-resurrection debut to two non-apostolic disciples, introduced for the first time here (Lk 24.13–35). Some power prevents their “eyes” from recognising Jesus. 431 (Disciples with less than ideal “sight” 432 were present at an epiphany of Jesus on a Galilean mountain too.) A lengthy conversation ensues in which the disciples, still dejected and full of misunderstanding, describe him as a prophet, marked by miracles and teaching, who, they hoped, would redeem Israel. 433 The praise-filled response of the crowd near Nain made a similar, good-intentioned yet inappropriate identification of Jesus. 434 These disciples are not villains. But they have a long way to go before they will see God’s plan and know it has been fulfilled. 435 As in the last two epiphany stories where Jesus was present, here Jesus’ identity stands in the focal point, accompanied by the disciples’ lack of understanding. Irony is rife – Cleopas assumed Jesus did not know what happened, though he is in fact the only one who really knows. 436 At the same time the disciples’ speech serves to provide a précis of the response of the women disciples who visited the tomb and of the disciples who heard their report

431

God and/or Jesus are potential sources of this power. Perhaps a better case can be made for the disciples “culpable failure” (Tannehill 1996: 352). 432 This is the implication at Lk 9.32, where Peter, James and John, asleep at the moment of Jesus’ appearance in glory awake only later to see it. A similar sleepiness was the disciples’ lot also on another occasion of private prayer (cf. 9.28–29), when Jesus’ need was great (22.45–46). 433 Reference to redemption recalls the proclamations of hope from Lk 1.68 and 2.38 (Tannehill 1996: 353–354). 434 Tannehill (1996: 353) provides a different reading. He sees the description of Jesus as “prophet” here as acceptable. He finds fault, rather, with the disciples’ inability to understand that the prophet needed to die. 435 The journey motif in the story accentuates the plot of a lengthy process of recognition. Astute hearers/readers will hear echoes from the prologue which indicate that the disciples need to move from seeing the suffering, crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus as merely events (περὶ πάντων τῶν συμβεβηκότων τούτων: 24.14; cf. 24.18, 19) to realising they are the fulfilled things (περὶ τῶν πεπληροφορημένων ἐν ἡμῖν πραγμάτων: 1.1). 436 Tannehill 1996: 352. The theme of “knowing” re-appears in the resolution of the encounter (Lk 24.31, 35).

378

Chapter 4: Luke

(24.22–23). 437 Here again the emotion of amazement (γυναῖκές τινες ἐξ ἡμῶν ἐξέστησαν ἡμᾶς: 24.22) is associated with a lack of understanding. Jesus’ reply, though a chastisement, is actually generous in nature. He describes the disciples as slow to believe, not as unbelieving (Lk 24.25; cf. 24.11), while the reference to their hearts revisits a refrain from Simeon’s clandestine words to Mary (2.35). He then proceeds to explain how the suffering of the messiah was necessary, as the Scriptures show. His interpretive task resembles that of the pair of angels. When it seems like Jesus will depart the disciples’ company and they have still not grasped who he is, tension seems to reach a breaking point. The question looms large as to whether the thoughts of the hearts of these two, revealed by Jesus, will lead to their falling or rising. They invite him in. He accepts. While Jesus is giving them bread over a meal, recognition finally comes. The long-awaited response to this epiphany is primarily cognitive in nature, though visual sensation is indicated, in addition, in the reference to the opening of eyes (Lk 24.31a–b): αὐτῶν δὲ διηνοίχθησαν οἱ ὀφθαλμοὶ καὶ ἐπέγνωσαν αὐτόν. Like the women recipients of the previous epiphany, here too successful cognition is key. 438 One of the great sources for human conflict with God – the disciples’ lack of understanding and inability to “see” – is being resolved further, though only two men have joined the ranks of the many women disciples. The angelic visitation not being enough, here, unlike with the transfiguration, the required further revelation has come not as a great cloud and by a pronouncement from a heavenly voice, while Jesus remained enshrouded and silent. Jesus now speaks on his own behalf, though humbly, as an unassuming traveller coming alongside those grief-stricken and with difficulties believing. The additional revelation is more like the sound of a thin silence (traditionally: a still small voice), than a voice from heaven amidst trumpet blast. Though initially closed some power has finally opened the disciples’ eyes. A gesture over a simple meal was the occasion. The breaking of bread recalls Jesus’ act and related words about 437 The pair’s version (Lk 24.21b–24) of the women’s report and the subsequent action of some other disciples to it functions itself as a kind of reporting, subsequent to the angelophany. The Emmaus episode, especially in the said report of the duo and their final response (see below), evidences “a complex process of narration” in which speech from characters revisits material already narrated, thereby “adding some further level of meaning or shade of interpretation” (Johnson 1991: 398, 399). 438 Kingsbury (1991: 133) notes that “the poles between which the action moves” in the present story “have to do with ‘not recognizing’ Jesus (24:16) and ‘recognizing’ him (24:31).” It is probable that, like the women before them, these disciples’ memory is to be understood as now functioning, since Jesus earlier associated the Passover meal, and with it the breaking of bread (see below, n. 439), with the disciples’ mental act of recalling Jesus’ suffering (22.19).

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

379

the fulfillment of God’s plan through his suffering, spoken at the Passover meal, which Jesus had greatly longed to eat with his disciples. 439 Then Jesus suddenly and mysteriously disappears. This event, which along with the preceding response constitutes the story’s peak, receives special prominence in the discourse. Jesus is no longer primarily in the realm of humans. He can disappear, it seems, at whim. Why did he disappear? When will he appear again? He has helped a number of disciples, in small groups, to come to revelation and understanding. How will he help the rest of them, including Peter? Following the disappearance, a second, much longer response comes. Such a pattern has been seen in epiphany stories before. There are two groups of respondents, though the said two disciples remain the subject in all three sentences (Lk 24.32–35): καὶ εἶπαν πρὸς ἀλλήλους· οὐχὶ ἡ καρδία ἡμῶν καιομένη ἦν [ἐν ἡμῖν] ὡς ἐλάλει ἡμῖν ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ, ὡς διήνοιγεν ἡμῖν τὰς γραφάς; καὶ ἀναστάντες αὐτῇ τῇ ὥρᾳ ὑπέστρεψαν εἰς Ἰερουσαλὴμ καὶ εὗρον ἠθροισμένους τοὺς ἕνδεκα καὶ τοὺς σὺν αὐτοῖς, λέγοντας ὅτι ὄντως ἠγέρθη ὁ κύριος καὶ ὤφθη Σίμωνι. καὶ αὐτοὶ ἐξηγοῦντο τὰ ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ καὶ ὡς ἐγνώσθη αὐτοῖς ἐν τῇ κλάσει τοῦ ἄρτου.

Like the shepherds, the two disciples’ first act in response to the epiphany is to talk among themselves. The unusual emotion mentioned – burning hearts – is without parallel in miracle stories or elsewhere in the narrative. Their speech would suggest that dialogue with Jesus was an important part of the amelioration of their understanding resulting in recognition of him. His ability to interpret the Scriptures is key. 440 Though neither joy nor praise is expressed, their words evidence a new appreciation of Jesus, however imprecisely defined. Like the women disciples before them, they to go to the Elev-

439 Parsons (1987: 79–80) correctly observes that the meal setting helps to bring about a sense of resolution to conflict in the narrative overall. Yet, the meal conflict scenes at Pharisees’ houses (Lk 7.36–50; 11.37–54; 14.1–24) are less relevant. The “last” supper (22.14–38) is the important point of contact. The connection is based on vocabulary (though in this regard the feeding of the 5000 has a closer fit [9.6 – cf. 22.19; 24.30]) and, even more, on the content of the dialogue surrounding the breaking of bread. Earlier, it was associated with Jesus’ suffering (παθεῖν: 22.15; cf. 24.26, 46) and the Passover, which was about to be fulfilled (πληρωθῆναι: 22.16; cf. 24.44 – but also 24.25–27 with the notion of scriptural fulfillment). The disciples’ lack of understanding of the need (Tannehill [1996: 316] sees the scriptures implicitly invoked here) for the suffering featured prominently, as they even turned to debate about who is the greatest and armed themselves with swords. (Ironically one of Jesus’ own disciples there was prepared already to hand him over, to a violent death.) The messiah’s suffering, fulfilling God’s plan revealed in the scriptures, and the disciples’ misunderstanding are central in the Emmaus meal also. 440 The wordplay between opening the Scriptures and opening eyes – διηνοίχθησαν οἱ ὀφθαλμοί (Lk 24.31a); διήνοιγεν ἡμῖν τὰς γραφάς (24.32) indicates the significance of Jesus’ interpretive skills for enabling the recognition.

380

Chapter 4: Luke

en and the others to report their experience. 441 This time, however, the ones coming are beaten to the punchline by the other disciples’ reporting of an appearance of “the lord” to Simon, an encounter not narrated elsewhere. 442 They are evidently not, then, met with unbelief. Interestingly, the narrator has not found it important to give details of let alone retell how Peter responded to encountering Jesus. He is not to be singled out among the disciples for special treatment. The report of the two revisits the theme of their understanding being brought about by interaction with Jesus, though now emphasis is laid especially on his act of breaking bread. 443 XXXV. Luke 24.37, 24.41a and 24.52–53 Jesus’ sudden appearance in their midst (Lk 24.36–53) evokes an immediate and extreme response (24.37): πτοηθέντες δὲ καὶ ἔμφοβοι γενόμενοι ἐδόκουν πνεῦμα θεωρεῖν. The three elements are emotional, cognitive and seeing. The fear is stark, underscored through repetition. The fear, once again, recalls not only the angelophanies at the narrative’s beginning (and ending) but also the two stories in the Galilee in which Jesus’ more powerful nature was revealed to the disciples in private. The fear here, as in those two stories, is associated with a lack of understanding. The reference to seeing picks up on the now well-worked theme of true sight. Being an observer with physical eyes does not mean having understanding of what is seen. The cognitive and seeing elements in this response have the opposite sense to those in the recent response at the meal in Emmaus. A revelation of Jesus here does not lead to recognition. Such faulty cognition and “sight” so late in the series of revelations may well serve as a source of frustration to hearers/readers. The tension built in previous episodes surprisingly returns, heightened, in this backgrounded comment. It seems that all disciples – including Peter; Cleopas and his companion; and even Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary of Jacob and the other women – have taken part in this regression. Jesus, through word and gesture, clearly identifies himself, showing extreme patience at the thoughts in the disciples’ hearts. Simeon’s refrain re-

441 In both responses the verb ὑποστρέψαι is used (Lk 24.9; 24.33), the only two instances in ch. 24, prior to the second last sentence of the narrative. The point of concern in both cases is a return to the Eleven and the others, not Jerusalem per se. Though see below, n. 448, on the significance of the return to Jerusalem (24.33). 442 So, e.g. Tannehill (1996: 358). Kingsbury (1991: 135) sees the speech of the Eleven as a question. 443 Neither in Lk 24.32 or 24.35 (cf. 24.30–31) is special emphasis laid on Jesus’ blessing God, contrary to the contention of de Long (2009: 243–244). Note in 9.16 Jesus blesses the bread and fish, not God (cf. Mt 14.19; Mk 6.41).

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

381

sounds once more. 444 Against all probability, it would seem, the disciples’ still do not believe, as the second response reveals (Lk 24.41): ἔτι δὲ ἀπιστούντων αὐτῶν ἀπὸ τῆς χαρᾶς καὶ θαυμαζόντων.... The combination of unbelief and joy, the ground of the former, creates a complex, rich situation. 445 The prophecy of joy made by the angelic host (cf. that of Gabriel), has now finally been achieved in the response of the assembled disciples to the appearance of their lord. Yet it fosters unbelief – the same unbelief the Eleven had at the report of the women disciples. Both the joy and the disbelief are accompanied by amazement, an emotion that is probably to be understood as less than ideal in the current situation and in light of precedent, especially in miracle stories, notably Peter’s recent amazement at the empty tomb. The response, not a mainline event, is the point of departure for Jesus’ words, requesting food. Jesus will do all he can to help his followers overcome their inner challenges to recognise and believe in him. The peak of the episode – and of the overall story – is Jesus’ next words and action (Lk 24.[44–]45–49). He interprets the suffering and resurrection of the messiah in light of the Scriptures for now comprehending disciples. This is the third time such an interpretive act has happened recently – one for each epiphany at the narrative’s close. 446 If earlier it was unclear who opened the eyes of the two on the road to Emmaus, no uncertainty is allowed this time. Jesus opens minds to understand (24.45). 447 Just as in his adolescence, once again those closest to Jesus find him in Jerusalem expounding the Scriptures. 448 The key differences are two. His teaching is this time not in the tem444 Note the verbal parallels: ὅπως ἂν ἀποκαλυφθῶσιν ἐκ πολλῶν καρδιῶν διαλογισμοί (Lk 2.34); τί διαλογισμοὶ ἀναβαίνουσιν ἐν τῇ καρδίᾳ ὑμῶν; (24.38). The collocation occurs in contexts of conflict elsewhere (5.22 and 9.47). 445 Similarly, de Long 2009: 244–245. 446 “The disciples must understand that the events of the passion were ‘necessary’.... A major tension in the plot is resolved when the disciples finally understand...” (Parsons 1987: 80). 447 Word selection makes the connection stronger, with the compound διανοῖξαι (Lk 24.31, 45). 448 Though notion of “returning to Jerusalem” is found only in Lk 2 and 24 (Parsons 1987: 75), the ubiquitous use of ὑποστρέψαι in Lk mitigates against vocabulary alone forming a connection. Parsons (1987: 75) notes that the theme of “finding Jesus in Jerusalem” in the former instance involves Jesus’ parents return seeking him, while in the latter two disciples, having already met Jesus elsewhere, return to Jerusalem only to find him again, by surprise, there. One can add that in both stories a general mood of anxiety reigns – for Jesus’ parents, as for Cleopas and companion (at first) and the Eleven and others. Amazement and lack of understanding during the encounter with Jesus (in Jerusalem) also link the stories (2.47–50; 24.38, 41; cf. 24.45). The portrayal of Jesus as one with masterful understanding of the scriptures, is also significant for the connection between the stories.

382

Chapter 4: Luke

ple for the renowned teachers of his day to hear, but in a private locale for the band of his followers, derived from a wide variety of backgrounds, including the socially marginalised. On this occasion the incomprehension of those dear to him (cf. 2.50) gives way to the light of understanding. This moment has been a long time in the making. As in the Nazareth synagogue Jesus offers a self-description in terms of the Scriptures – one which finally finds eyes that see and ears that hear. In this modest assembly of disciples, following the lead of the women disciples, good soil has finally been found for the seed of God’s word. Also proclamation of forgiveness of sins in the messiah’s name for all nations has been predicted, Jesus claims. He commissions his now enlightened disciples for the task, naming them as the “witnesses” (μάρτυρες: Lk 24.28). of what has been fulfilled. 449 They are now to be identified with the eyewitnesses (αὐτόπται) and “servants of the word” mentioned in the prologue. They join the ranks of Zechariah, Mary and the shepherds – respondents in the early miracle stories – and other pious persons from the narrative’s opening (Elisabeth, Simeon, Anna), equipped to tell all who will listen about the events that have been fulfilled in their midst. In this context, reference to their visual sensation in various private miracle stories, which has occurred in the responses (5.8a; 9.32c; 9.36c; 24.31; 24.37), takes on a specific connotation. So, too, does their recent reporting in the responses (24.9, 10b; 24.34–35) and elsewhere (24.19b–24). The silence of Peter, John and James over the events that transpired on the mountain of Jesus’ transfiguration must also be broken. The disciples, collectively, must speak to others about what they have seen. 450 Reporting, the motif found in numerous responses in miracle stories but until recently associated with respondents other than the disciples, is now to become a defining activity of theirs. 451

449 “These things” (Lk 24.48) picks up on the earlier summary statement (δεῖ πληρωθῆναι πάντα τὰ γεγραμμένα ἐν τῷ νόμῳ Μωϋσέως καὶ τοῖς προφήταις καὶ ψαλμοῖς περὶ ἐμοῦ: 24.44), which recalls the preface (πληροφορῆσαι: 1.1). The disciples’ enlightenment enables their transformation into witnesses (Tannehill 1986–1989 1:294; 1996: 360–361). 450 Reference to their visual and aural sensation in related contexts (e.g. Lk 10.23–24) is also important. 451 Whether one takes Lk as a narrative complete in itself or as part one in a two-part narrative, the relation of seeing and reporting in responses in miracle stories to, on the one hand, the eyewitnesses and servants of the word in the prologue and, on the other hand, the disciples’ commission by Jesus as witnesses is significant (cf. further Acts 1.8).

Responses in Miracles Stories within the Overall Narrative

383

The narrative’s brief, concluding scene, articulating Jesus’ miraculous transition into heaven, the fulfillment of his exodus (cf. Lk 9.31), 452 is brought to a close with a response (24.52–53): καὶ αὐτοὶ προσκυνήσαντες αὐτὸν ὑπέστρεψαν εἰς Ἰερουσαλὴμ μετὰ χαρᾶς μεγάλης καὶ ἦσαν διὰ παντὸς ἐν τῷ ἱερῷ εὐλογοῦντες τὸν θεόν.

No doubt is left, nor fear or amazement – only joy and praise. 453 The disciples do obeisance before Jesus as he departs. This may well be understood as worship by hearers/readers. 454 Praise to God parallels proskynesis before Jesus. 455 The disciples have come to recognise that in accordance with God’s plan Jesus not only has suffered as messiah, but also is now entering into his glorious state beside God (Lk 24.26; cf. 9.31–32). Both these mysteries, withheld from the “eyes” of the disciples at the time of Peter’s confession and, related, Jesus’ transfiguration, have finally been comprehended. It is noteworthy that the narrative’s final two sentences tell of the disciples’ joy and continual presence in the temple, praising God. The use of these motifs helps to bring the overall story to a fitting conclusion. Just as the announcement of the unfolding purposes of God took place in the temple at the beginning, so too praise to God for having accomplished them occurs there. Surrounding (John’s and) Jesus’ birth, Gabriel’s announcement, which initially met with disbelief, brought about events that fuelled the predicted joy (Lk 1.44, 47, 58) and inspired glorious praise (1.64 [a response]; 2.20 [a response]; 2.28, 38; cf. 2.13–14) from pious Jews. 456 Surrounding Jesus’ death and return to life, the disbelief following an angelic announcement finally 452 The travel motif, so important in Lk, is hereby brought to a close (Parsons 1987: 91– 93), though, interestingly, Jesus’ ascent does not occur in Jerusalem (cf. Lk 9.31, 51). 453 Kingsbury (1991: 137) argues that in this response “the conflict between Jesus and the disciples formally comes to resolution.” De Long’s (2009: 245; emphasis added) view is similar: it “marks a climactic transformation.” This seems overstated. Lk 24.45–46 confirms the disciples’ change of mind and new role as Jesus’ witnesses. The move from joy and doubt (and amazement) to joy and praise serves, primarily, to bring closure (so, too, Tannehill 1996: 364). 454 Similarly Ostmeyer (2013: 640), noting the important difference in wording between Lk 24.52 and 17.16a. Also seeing the act as worship are Kingsbury (1991: 137) and Dillon (1978: 184, 223–334); cf. Tannehill (1996: 363–364). 455 Also with a pair of actions showing respect to both God and Jesus are two responses in miracle stories (Lk 7.16–17; 17.15–16a; cf. 18.43b–c) and the centurion’s reaction at Jesus’ death (23.47). 456 The praise of God at the opening (Lk 1–2) and close of the narrative (24), notably in the responses (Lk 1.64 and 24.53; cf. 2.28), is expressed with εὐλογῆσαι, whereas δοξάσαι (and αἰνέσαι) is used elsewhere, but once only in the opening (2.20 [both verbs]). Parsons (1987: 76; cf. Tannehill 1996: 364) makes a similar observation. And, generally, instances (8 of 12) of the term εὐλογῆσαι are concentrated in the opening and close.

384

Chapter 4: Luke

gives way to joy and praise too. 457 In both cases (birth; death and resurrection) the culminating scene of joy takes place in the temple. 458 Through such parallelism, the disciples are depicted as having joined the ranks of the many pious characters from the opening chapters. 459 Human resistance to God’s purposes began in the temple. Final harmony between God and the faithful among his people, depicted in the temple, unties the knot formed by the first instance of resistance and subsequent conflict, of which significant moments also took place in religious spaces – synagogues and the temple. 460 Another prediction at the narrative’s beginning, again in the temple, constituted a hitherto unimagined corollary to the host of angels’ prediction of joy (also that of Gabriel): the messiah would be the cause of the rising and falling of many. Now, at the narrative’s close, the disciples, who have been faithful to Jesus despite their shortcomings, are those that have been elevated by the risen Jesus to the status of his witnesses. In retrospect, the pious characters surrounding and rejoicing in John and Jesus’ births included neither the high priest and his entourage – few priests indeed – nor the people at large. At one point, in fact, in the place of the high bred were lowly shepherds as the heralds of important news from heaven. At that time, then, few and mostly insignificant were those in Israel who embraced God’s plan. As the disciples express their joy and praise, following what is probably meant to be understood as their worship of Jesus, they fulfill many of the intertwined predictions from the narrative’s opening. On the other hand, the host of heavenly angels predicted great joy for the whole of God’s people. This remains to occur. The long-awaited joy and praise have found their home in the disciples. 461 God has been faithful to God’s promises. Then, returning to Jerusalem, the disciples’ obedience to Jesus’ command to wait for the holy spirit is evi457

Though a pristine joy was known at his birth, during Jesus’ adult life, the unadulterated form of the joy predicted by the host of angels (cf. Gabriel’s prediction) has only now finally come. 458 “The narrative ends where it began – with the pious people of God blessing Him in His house” (Parsons 1987: 76). 459 Note Anna is described as never having left the temple (Lk 2.37). “By the end, the disciples have replaced the pious persons of Israel found in the early chapters of the Gospel. The disciples are the ones who are obediently (24.49), joyously (24.52), and continually (24.53) in the temple blessing God” (Parsons 1987: 76 – though “joined the ranks of” would suit the context better than “replaced”). 460 Parsons (1987: 80–83, 81) observes six “conflict incidents between God’s agents with God’s people in God’s house [sic]”: Lk 1.5–23; 2.41–51; 4.16–30; 6.6–11; 13.10–17; 19.45–48. He notes 4.9–12 and 4.31–37 are also relevant. 461 One can say, alongside de Long (2009: 278), that praise and joy in the closing sentences (as elsewhere) “not only acknowledges the divine realization of promises made long before but it also fulfills them.”

Synoptic Problem: Luke’s Dependence on Matthew or Q?

385

dent. 462 The hearers/readers can only expect that in the future of the narrative world the promises made by God and Jesus will also be fulfilled. The disciples will receive power through the holy spirit and be witnesses of the messiah. It can well be expected that Gentiles too will, at some point at least, join the ranks of those who receive blessing through the messiah. There is hope, too, for those in Israel. Many in Jerusalem regretfully mourned after they supported Jesus’ condemnation and execution. It only remains for the witnesses to tell them how the Scriptures have been fulfilled through those horrible events and through Jesus’ resurrection. 463

R. Synoptic Problem: Luke’s Dependence on Matthew or Q? Turning aside now from narrative criticism, I offer a preliminary comparison of all three of the Synoptics. In Section R of Chapter Three I argued that, given a relationship of direct literary dependence between Matthew and Mark, the former used the latter, disqualifying the Two Gospel Hypothesis (which assumes Matthean priority plus Mark’s use of Luke). Yet problems were also posed for the most widely held hypothesis, the Two Document Hypothesis (2DH). Some commonalities are best explained by positing shared access to oral tradition. In this chapter I turn to a comparison between the 2DH and the other of the three currently most well known solutions to the Synoptic Problem. The Farrer Hypothesis (FH), like the 2DH, assumes Markan priority. Unlike the 2DH, however, it assumes Luke’s direct use of Matthew (and thus dispenses with Q). The FH has enjoyed a growth of support in recent years, as the range of contributors to the volume edited by Goodacre and Perrin (2004) attests. 464 462

For the second time in the chapter – both times in responses (Lk 24.33a; 24.52) – the phrase ὑπέστρεψαν εἰς Ἰερουσαλήμ occurs. Now the disciples return to Jerusalem following Jesus’ disappearance, however, out of obedience (24.49), not in quandary about where he has gone (similarly, Parsons 1987: 75). Their obedience recalls that of Mary and Joseph (Parsons 1987: 76). 463 Tannehill (1996: 170) notes how both Jesus’ ministry in the Galilee and his journey to Jerusalem begin with episodes in which he is rejected (in Nazareth and in a Samaritan village). In each case, however, Jesus does not respond with retribution (cf. esp. Lk 9.55– 56) and subsequent episodes reveal success with individuals from the respective area. In Jerusalem, too, then one should expect, eventually, some will come to comprehend and accept God’s strange plan. 464 Another hypothesis, less known, is that of M.-É. Boismard, which postulates that a Proto-Mark and Proto-Matthew were both used by each of (the canonical) Mt, Mk and Lk. Tuckett (2011: 10, 11) cites Frans Neirynck as “an indefatigable analyst and critic of many such individual theories,” including Boismard’s “highly individual” hypothesis. At the same time, Tuckett (2011: 10, n. 3) cites three other important critics: “As both Kloppen-

386

Chapter 4: Luke

I note at the outset that the solution posited in the previous chapter, involving oral tradition, does not by definition favour either the 2DH or the FH over the other. However, traditional support for the FH stems to some extent from appeal to the principal of Occam’s razor (only three written sources on the FH, instead of four on in the 2DH). This appeal is especially associated with Michael Goulder. 465 Others, notably Mark Goodacre, allow that other (no longer extant) literary sources and oral tradition may lie behind one or more of the canonical gospels. 466 Thus the potential virtue of parsimony is already compromised. If the case for oral tradition having a marked influence on Matthew and Luke that I made in the previous chapter is accepted, then the FH loses its advantage over the 2DH in this regard. Nevertheless, as noted already, proponents of the 2DH also do not typically give much attention to the potential influence of oral tradition on the Gospels. Among the Synoptic Gospels, pairs of gospels or especially all three of them have a number of features in common regarding responses in miracle stories. Some of the features shared by Luke with Matthew and/or Mark do not bear heavily on the question of Luke’s direct literary dependence on eiborg Verbin and Sanders and Davies remark, it is striking how many such theories reduce the contribution of the evangelists to a minimum and ascribe virtually all variation to a range of prior sources and traditions.” While the hypothesis is not compelling, I mention it here since in a previous generation its was significant enough as to be included among the three hypotheses, along with the 2DH and the 2GH (the FH was not represented), discussed in detail in a prominent conference on the Synoptic Problem in Jerusalem in 1984, the papers from which were published in Dungan (1990). 465 Goulder’s version of the FH is a utilisation hypothesis – i.e. it works on the assumption that the only literary source(s) used by each canonical gospel is/are one or more of the other canonical gospels. Goulder (1989: 1: 23) argues that the author-redactor of Lk “added new material of his own creation, largely parables, where his genius lay. The new material can almost always be understood as a Lucan development of matter in Matthew. There was hardly any L (Sondergut).” 466 Goodacre (2002: 187, 188; emphasis added), on the FH, believes there to be “oral tradition” behind “the Synoptic Gospels,” including material unique to Lk, and he is prepared to reopen “the question of Matthew’s non-Markan sources,” i.e. literary sources. See Goodacre’s [1996: 367] earlier rejection of Goulder’s “conclusion that Luke had no substantial sources other than Matthew and Mark.” And whereas Goulder (1989) attributes the non-Markan material in Mt largely to the creativity (midrashic imagination) of the authorredactor of Mt, Goodacre (2002: 189) is more inclined to see written sources behind this material in Mt. Goodacre’s (2002: 188) brief consideration of the potential influence of oral tradition on Mt and Lk, given the FH, shows some sensitivity, avoiding “the routine confusion between literary priority and the relative age of traditions.” Nevertheless, the oral tradition he envisages seems less extensive than what my analysis of responses would indicate. For Goodacre its influence is primarily discernible and/or meaningful in contexts where “Matthew and Luke might witness to different, sometimes more primitive versions of material they share with Mark” (Goodacre 2002: 188, emphasis added).

Synoptic Problem: Luke’s Dependence on Matthew or Q?

387

ther Matthew or the hypothetical Q. These features, though I consider them only briefly here, will be the object of further discussion and quantification in Chapter Six, below. Notably, responses are common in Luke (in 24 of 27 miracle stories or 89%), as in the others (Mt: 66%; Mk: 67%). In each gospel epiphanies constitute a minority of the stories, have responses more frequently (all 8 stories in Lk) and more commonly contain multiple responses (6 of 8). 467 In all three of the Synoptics the following response components are the most common (in this order in Lk) and occur with roughly comparable frequencies: emotion, speech, seeing, movement, reporting. All of the Synoptics have just one instance of express antagonism. While both of the later gospels have multiple instances of falling or other motions towards the ground (5 each; Mark has just 1), such bodily motion never occurs in parallel contexts for Luke and Matthew. 468 Similarly, some noteworthy features peculiar to Luke do not help clarify, whether the 2DH or the FH is to be preferred. In Luke a certain emotion (joy: 3 instances) and, especially, a particular type of speech (praise: 11) are more frequent than in the others (joy [Mt: 1] – praise [Mt: 2; Mk: 1]). In Luke alone these are integrated into the narrative. 469 Other similarities are of greater consequence. In all three gospels, epiphany stories are distinguished from other miracle stories, especially those of healings and exorcisms, by a number of shared features. For Jesus’ adult life, established followers are typical respondents for the epiphanies, in private settings, while non-followers (and some new followers) are respondents in the other stories, which involve public settings. In each gospel additional features help establish the distinction. Epiphany stories are especially associated with alternative forms of focalisation (Mk) or uniquely contain responses with falling and related acts (Mt). Mark and Luke agree against Matthew for one feature that distinguishes the two types of miracle stories. In each of these two gospels, as the respective narrative unfolds, fear / being troubled becomes associated with the experience of epiphanies and amazement with other contexts. This is peculiar, since in all three of the Synoptics emotion is a characteristic element of responses, with the most frequent emotions being amazement and fear / being troubled. Moreover, in Matthew, as in the other two gospels, epiphanic epi467

Rather than reproduce here the statistics for Mt and Mk, I refer the reader to Section R of Chapter Three and to Chapter Six. 468 The same is true of the two instances of hearing in each of these two gospels (not present in Mk). 469 Still, as noted, praise and joy in Lk are not univocally positive indicators. Other notable differences concerning components, which nevertheless do not favour either the 2DH or the FH, are as follows. Lk and Mk alone have instances of cognition. Occasionally Lukan material (e.g. the act of finding) does not correspond to that found in the others.

388

Chapter 4: Luke

sodes are quantitatively distinguishable from other miracle stories based on the kind of emotional response, though in this gospel the distinction is not seen as the unfolding of the narrative and thus does not play any role. I have discussed this point in Section R of Chapter Three. In fact, based strictly on the numbers of exceptions to the pattern, the distinction between miracle stories based on type of emotion is greater in Matthew than in the other two gospels, for Matthew has just one story each of amazement at an epiphany and fear at a healing. Finally, Jesus’ amazement at the Capernaum centurion’s faith functions only in Luke as an inversion of the response motif, picking up on responses of amazement in previous miracle stories. In Matthew the larger narrative does not allow hearers/readers to catch this potential inversion of expectation. Yet the inversion might still be detected, if this gospel is taken to be an oral-derived text and hearers/readers are taken to understand the narrative in light of not only itself but also previous oral performances of miracle stories in the Jesus tradition. The analyses in this and the previous two chapters, adopting a narrative critical approach, have not entertained this possibility. I will give attention to it in Chapter Six. Nevertheless, even given the scenario described, the inversion of the response motif would still be more easily detected in Luke than in Matthew, for any single continuous reading of one of these gospels. The FH offers a less plausible explanation than the 2DH for these data. For on the FH a baffling redactional procedure for Luke emerges. On the one hand, Luke improves on Matthew. The pattern becomes clearer in Lk on account of: a primacy effect (fear’s association with experiencing epiphanies occurs early on [three stories in Lk 1–2]); individual cases (for epiphanies fear belongs just to those who experience them [cf. Mt 28.4]); and sheer numbers (seven of eight epiphany stories contain a response in which recipients become afraid in Lk vs. four of five stories in Mt). The improvement involves material that is, roughly speaking, shared between Luke and Matthew, but not Mark, at a gospel’s beginning and end. Importantly, Luke borrows a key Matthean idea for epiphany stories – three angelophanies pertaining to Jesus’ birth at the narrative’s onset – while not following Matthew’s distinctive pattern of responses there, but producing responses that conform to the pattern. 470 Fear appears appropriately (recipients in each story become afraid), setting expectations for the remainder of the narrative for earthbound characters encountering heavenly beings (unlike in Mt, where no emotional component is found in Joseph’s three responses). Luke arranges and edits 470 Lk also produces here responses in which the type and frequency of elements conform to the general pattern found in material he takes over from Mk and Mt elsewhere. And two of the stories each have two responses, conforming with the tendency in Mk and Mt for multiple responses to appear in epiphany stories.

Synoptic Problem: Luke’s Dependence on Matthew or Q?

389

other material, too, better than Matthew. Luke situates the story of the Capernaum centurion, taken from Matthew, in such a way that Jesus’ amazement and speech is cast as an inversion of expectations for characters’ responses to healings. On the FH, one could posit influence from Mark on Luke in this regard. Luke, following Mark’s lead, improves on material drawn from Matthew, to make the said pattern play a meaningful role in the narrative. On the other hand, Luke needlessly and intentionally produces many exceptions to the pattern in question. Three of Luke’s seven exceptions (Mt has two; Mk has four) occur in unique stories (Lk 1.29: fear at healing – 7.16–17: fear at resurrection – 24.41a: amazement at epiphany). Twice, against Matthew, Luke follows Mark’s exceptions in the Triple Tradition (fear at healing or exorcism: Mk 5.14–17 || Lk 8.34–37a; Mk 5.33 || Lk 8.47). In the healing of the paralytic and the stilling of the storm, Luke takes each emotion from Mark and Matthew (both Matthean exceptions to the pattern) and combines them. As these are the only two responses in Luke to contain both amazement and fear (note 25 responses contain emotion), intentionality would be at play. In fact these are two of only three instances in the entire body of miracle stories in the Synoptic Gospels to contain both types of emotion (cf. Mk 16.8). Such redactional behaviour is inexplicable – preserving the majority of exceptions (four of six) to the pattern found in his two sources, while producing other material that conforms with the pattern and employing it more effectively than the author-redactor of Matthew. The 2DH has fewer difficulties with the data. The author-redactor of Luke inherits the pattern of emotions and miracle story types from Mark, at least. The epiphany stories placed at the narrative’s beginning create a primacy effect for associating fear with epiphanies, similar to the first occurrence of fear in Mark (in the stilling of the storm). Also, like Mark, Luke places an exorcism story (Capernaum synagogue) with an amazement response at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, helping to establish the pattern. Material drawn from Q, notably the Capernaum centurion story, is situated within the narrative of Luke in light of the pattern. Still, Luke does not adhere rigidly to the pattern. Like Mark, Luke is able to produce stories which are exceptions, whether drawn from Mark (fear at exorcism and healing: Lk 8.34–37a; 8.47) or with other origins (fear at healing: 7.16–17). The analysis here presents an original argument for the 2DH over and against the FH. Still, the relative strengths and weaknesses of the two hypotheses must be compared jointly. When this is done, the 2DH comes out the stronger. 471 An important factor, which is only slowly receiving the atten471 The FH’s greatest virtue is that it deals aptly with the MAs. On the FH the MAs are to be understood as the simple result of Lk using Mt. Another strength of the FH is that it accounts for phraseology characteristic of Mt that appears also in Lk, with less frequency,

390

Chapter 4: Luke

tion due it, concerns places where Luke preserves something that is arguably earlier than its parallel in Matthew. 472 whether verbatim agreement or only similarities are in view. A parade example is the five speech-summary statements in Mt that each begin with καὶ ἐγένετο ὅτε ἐτέλεσεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς and finish with similar turns of speech. For one of these (Mt 7.28), Lk (7.1) has a similar phrase in a parallel context: ἐπειδὴ ἐπλήρωσεν πάντα τὰ ῥήματα αὐτοῦ εἰς τὰς ἀκοὰς τοῦ λαοῦ. In light of this Goodacre (2002: 181–182) sees the FH as superior to the 2DH: “We could hardly ask for a clearer indication of the way the wind is blowing....” Probably the strongest objection to the FH is that at times Lk seems to preserve material that is more primitive than Mt. Mostly this argument is made with regards to the DT. Goodacre approaches the problem from three angles. “Sometimes it is simply the case that strong arguments for the secondary nature of some Lukan versions have been overlooked” (Goodacre 2002: 66). Alternatively, assuming the 2DH, the method used for establishing the wording of Q means that characteristic Matthean phraseology in Mt within DT does not necessarily imply that a parallel in Lk is more primitive. (“Since Q’s style is clearly Matthean on these occasions [e.g. Mt 8.12 || Lk 13.28], reconstructing Q elsewhere by eliminating the Matthean elements, the standard practice, becomes problematic” [Goodacre 2002: 62].) The few instances, according to Goodacre, that remain can be explained by Lk’s independent access to oral traditions. As Kloppenborg Verbin (2002) notes, this solution works best for potentially liturgical traditions. The situation’s problematic nature increases, however, in proportion to the increased likelihood that Lk has access to an earlier text for pericopae shared in common with Mt. Three other objections to the FH are that: Lk seems ignorant of Mt’s modifications of Mk; Lk seems unaware of Mt’s ‘M’ additions to Mk; Lk’s procedure of re-ordering the Matthean double-tradition seems improbable. Goodacre (2002: 46–104) responds to these objections. For a response to the third objection, see also Peterson (2004). 472 At least one example should be cited, in some detail, here. Buth and Kvasnica (2006a: 285) offer an insightful analysis of the phrase καὶ προσέθετο... πέμψαι in Lk 20.11 (vs. πάλιν ἀπέστειλεν [Mt 21.36] || καὶ πάλιν ἀπέστειλεν [Mk 12.4]) and Lk 20.12 (vs. nothing [Mt] || καὶ... ἀπέστειλεν [Mk 12.5]). This rare phrase in Lk (only here; cf. Acts 12.3), while mirroring “a very Semitic structure associated with literary (Biblical) Hebrew” (‫ שלח‬...‫)ויוסף‬, is not borrowed directly from the LXX. And it is unintelligible as an intelligent writer’s attempt at a Septuagintalism. The splitting of the adjective from the noun in Lk 20.11, not to mention the fronting of one of these before the infinitive (cf. 20.12), is Greek and not Hebrew word order, generally. Moreover, all three instances in the LXX (Num 22.15; 1 Kgdms 19.21; 4 Kgdms 1.13) of προσθέσθαι + ἀποστεῖλαι (as an infinitive) have an explicit subject placed between the two verbs and the object following the infinitive. (There are no instances with πέμψαι – the infinitive, in fact, occurs just once [Neh 2.5].) Such a word order is witnessed over and over again in the LXX for the phraseology προσθέσθαι + infinitive verb, whether the object or an adverbial follows the infinitive (Gen 8.12; 37.8; 38.26; 44.23; Exod 14.13; Num 22.25; Deut 5.25; 28.68 etc.). It is highly improbable that the Hebraism is produced by the redactor of Lk simply from knowledge of the LXX: “It is schizophrenic to insert a blatant Hebraism but to just as blatantly use a non-Hebrew, non-Septuagintal word order” (Buth and Kvasnica 2006a: 285). A more probable explanation is that Lk has edited the word order of a phrase from a Hebraic-influenced source. Considerations of plot and typical patterns in parables

Conclusion

391

Nevertheless, difficulties arise from the analysis for the 2DH. Two sets of problems arise. The first concerns the probability of shared oral tradition, potentially extensive. The complex literary situation requires examination of individual cases. Still, a preliminary look already shows that not all material shared by the Synoptics can plausibly be attributed to literary dependence and coincidentally similar editorial procedures. In addition to literary dependence, positing the influence of oral tradition is likely a better option than chance for explaining the complex network of features in all the Synoptics and also the fear versus amazement distinction in Mark and Luke which divide the miracle stories into the epiphanic and non-epiphanic. The 2DH, as typically conceived, does not allow much room for oral tradition. The second set of problems pertains to agreements between Matthew and Luke against Mark. In both the healing of the paralytic and the stilling of the storm Matthew and Luke, against Mark, deviate from the pattern of emotions and types of miracle stories. In each case Luke deviates just in part. In one response (and in both stories) verbatim agreement between Matthew and Luke occur. Dependence by the two gospels on a common literary source at this point is possible. So too is their drawing on a shared oral tradition. If literary dependence is admitted, then Q may be the source of the features shared by Matthew and Luke. These possibilities will be discussed in detail in Chapter Six.

S. Conclusion As was shown to be the case for Mark and Matthew in the preceding two chapters, the analysis conducted in this chapter has demonstrated that the response motif is used creatively in the Gospel of Luke. Characters’ responses do not uniquely or even primarily serve, for example, to glorify God or Jesus. Through diverse usages of the response motif the portrayal of not only the protagonist, but also other characters, is shaped in a variety of ways. Various aspects of the plot, too, are developed through the multi-faceted employment of responses. Awareness of the diverse roles that responses play rests on making observations at multiple levels of the narrative – in the relevant miracle story and also in the larger narrative, especially by paying atten-

also point to Lk’s version of the parable of the vineyard, tenants and son being closer than the versions of Mt and Mk to an earlier Hebrew form (Buth and Kvasnica 2006a: 286– 287). (On the general association of Hebrew and parables, see Chapter Six, below.) Given the verbatim agreements between various pairs of the Synoptic Gospels and between all three, it is probable that Lk is dependent upon a literary source, not oral tradition, for the Hebraisms. Whether that source is Q is a question I cannot consider here in any detail, though it remains a possibility.

392

Chapter 4: Luke

tion to how the story-telling unfolds. In what follows, I summarise important observations arising from the analysis, beginning with definitions. First, this chapter’s analysis has confirmed, with respect to Luke, the definitions laid out in Chapter One for miracle, miracle story and response. A strong case has been made for use of the term miracle story in relation to Luke as a designation for episodes of not only healing, exorcism, provision of food and the like, but also angelophany, Jesus’ transfiguration and his postresurrection appearances. This claim has an important precedent in the work of Gerd Theissen, who sees epiphany stories as a sub-class of miracle stories. Commonalities among the responses in all the said stories constitute an important aspect of the argument for understanding the episodes as belonging together. I will return to this observation shortly. At the same time, owing to the manner in which the stilling of the storm is told, it is best understood as an epiphany story. The main factor contributing to this conclusion is the mythic level of narration employed, though also relevant is a set of features held in common with other epiphany stories, namely the tendencies there for established followers to be respondents in private settings. The fact that in Luke miracle stories, as defined in this study, almost always have responses (24 or 25 of 27 stories) constitutes powerful evidence in support of the definition. This point holds true, even though boundaries of some stories at the gospel’s opening and close are more difficult to pin down and they contain some lengthier, more complex responses. Moreover, the responses in the two kinds of miracle stories – both epiphanic and nonepiphanic episodes – draw on a common body of elements. The most frequently occurring is emotion. Other common components are: visual sensation, speech, movement between locations, reporting, cognition and falling. Praise in responses – often but not always (13.13c; 17.15–16a; 18.43b–c) accompanied by emotion, whether amazement (2.15b–2.20), fear (1.64b–66; 7.16), both fear and amazement (5.25b–26), or joy (24.52–53) – brings the epiphany stories into a close relation with stories of healing, exorcism and other mighty deeds. Other collocations (emotion and seeing; speech and seeing; movement and reporting; or even the less frequent reporting and seeing [2.15b–20; 8.34–37a; 8.47; 9.36b–c]) also help draw epiphanies into connection with the other miracles. In one case an identical group responding, namely Peter, James and John, and a similarly private setting, forges a connection between a miraculous provision of fish and Jesus’ epiphany. Speech (by Peter), emotion and reference to visual sensation are found in each story’s response(s). The analysis was demonstrated that the definition of response, too, is appropriate for Luke. Previous studies of Lukan miracle stories have focused on aspects of the episodes which correspond to what I have identified as the emotional, reporting and verbal (including praise) elements of responses. These are, of course, features of the stories worthy of study. Yet of similar

Conclusion

393

importance are references to characters’ visual sensation and movement between locations. Also important are descriptions of falling and related posturing of the body and also cognitive processing. The existence of a larger body of common elements that are drawn upon by the narrator in describing characters’ responses warrants consideration of all the elements together under one rubric. This point is strengthened by further considerations. Various tendencies related to combinations of elements, their relative priority and the order of their appearance demonstrate that descriptions of seeing and movement between locations are employed in close relation to those emotions, speech and acts of reporting following a miracle. Moreover, even features such as praise that might at first glance be taken as strictly positive, can be used in more complex ways, including for the depiction of characters’ inadequate responses. The same can be said of the other elements identified – an element is in itself neither positive nor negative. Thus, the data are reconciled easiest not to discrete motifs (cf. Theissen) that are understood as either positive or negative but to a single concept of response. Second, the analysis has revealed how alternative forms of focalisation are employed in miracle stories. The responses play an important role in establishing the uncommon character-focalisation in both the transfiguration and the angelophany at the tomb. In the former episode, the first two of three responses, portraying an inner view of the three disciples’ thoughts and emotions, invites hearers/readers to sympathise with the characters. In the latter episode, hearers/readers are invited by means of character-focalisation to identify with the women and experience with them the paradigm shift resulting from the angelic announcement. A contrasting narrator-focalisation in the following account of the other disciples’ disbelief at the women’s report creates distance from the other characters. This feature thus exacerbates the problem of the disciples’ lack of understanding, helping to build tension as the greater narrative approaches its climax. Third, in this chapter I have conducted the first analysis of the discourse for the responses in the Lukan miracle stories, also for other aspects of the stories. Considering sentences in relation to the mainline of events, it was shown, for example, that visual sensation, though a common component in responses, is typically not among the most prominent elements in a given response and is characteristically less prominent than speech, where the two components collocate. Similarly, praise is rarely a mainline event, coming specifically as either background material or as a post-nuclear participle modifying a mainline event. Examination of the connectives used to introduce responses has identified roughly a third of them as developments in their respective stories. Furthermore paying attention to such features as connectives, the historical present, heavy encoding of subjects, anarthrous references to proper nouns and redundant quotative frames has helped to identify the key moment in each story and to establish the relation of the response(s) to this

394

Chapter 4: Luke

moment. Such analysis has proved useful especially where the response material constitutes or is a part of the peak. A number of miracle stories in the earlier part of the narrative, among others, are relevant (5.25b; 6.11; 7.16–17; 8.25b; 8.39b; 8.47). In addition, the said prominence afforded a given response here helps, beyond the scope of its respective story, to bring it into contrast with other such responses in stories found in close proximity. Fourth, in the analysis I noted ways that responses in the Lukan miracle stories correspond to observations made by Justin Taylor on levels of narration in the Gospels. The conclusion drawn here is similar to that in the preceding two chapters on Mark and Matthew, respectively. In the stilling of the storm and the transfiguration, Taylor observes, a level of narration akin to that found in stories of “romance,” characteristic of the stories of healing and exorcism, is abandoned for a mythic level of narration. The protagonist is portrayed in these two stories – the only ones during Jesus’ adult ministry in the Galilee which may be called epiphanic episodes – as a divine being. (In Luke such a portrayal of the protagonist is found and the mythic level of narration is employed in the two relevant epiphany stories in chapter 24 also.) The two epiphanic episodes contain responses which are distinguished from those in non-epiphanic miracle stories on various grounds. Established followers, the only respondents in the epiphany stories, respond in private nonurban settings, whereas in the remaining stories the respondents are almost exclusively other characters and the settings are typically urban and public. Thus the tendency to move between various levels of narration among the miracle stories, while preserving an impressive pattern comprising of a number of features, is a notable aspect of not only Mark and Matthew, but also Luke, which requires explanation. I will return to this topic in a later chapter. Fifth, I have shown how the narrative of Luke employs the responses in miracle stories for varying purposes. For example, the same component may aid in portraying a character negatively or the reverse. Features within the response and without are determinative. The reporting of the shepherds is positively portrayed, as they bear the angelic, joy-filled message of the messiah’s birth, followed by their praise to God. The reporting of the pig herders is less commendable, associated with flight from Jesus and aiding in procuring his rejection from the region. The fear of those who encounter angels does not seem subject to criticism per se, though they are encouraged not to fear. On the other hand a fearful, evidently unfounded apprehension of reproach for furtively attaining healing adds a negative hue to the portrayal of the woman whose exemplary faith is commended by Jesus. The amazement of those who hear the shepherds’ report of an angelophany or of those who witness the exorcism in the Capernaum synagogue is of a superior quality to Peter’s amazement at the empty tomb, following the unbelief with which he and other disciples greet the report of Mary Magdalene, Joanna and the other Mary of the appearance of angels.

Conclusion

395

The narrative’s plot, too, is furthered through use of the response motif. The plot – the fulfillment of God’s saving purpose as it encounters human resistance – is established in the stories surrounding the birth of John and Jesus. The three angelic appearances are instrumental. Angelic predictions of joy and human characters’ resultant joyous and praise-filled activity, including responses (of Zechariah [1.64b; cf. 1.67–79] and of the shepherds [2.20]) in miracle stories, set the expectation that joy and praise should be found, too, in reply to Jesus’ ministry of teaching and mighty deeds. At the same time, tension is created through the closing prophecy of the narrative’s beginning section. Simeon’s sobering words to Mary, anticipating the rising and falling of many in Israel, raises expectancy that the road to joy and praise for God’s work in Jesus will not be simple. The expectation of conflict, between God and humans, is met without delay. Miracle stories, including the responses, play an important part in its depiction. An important example, two interrelated stories in synagogues, at the onset of Jesus’ ministry, set the stage. Those who know him best, dwellers of Nazareth, are already prepared to kill him owing to his apparent lack of pedigree and disrespect for his hometown. The response of amazement, questioning and spread of a report following an exorcism in Capernaum (4.36–38) is portrayed much more favourably, though here too the expectation of joy and praise is clearly not met. When praise does appear in the narrative, it disappoints. The Pharisees and scribes who praise God at the healing of the paralytic (5.25b–26) soon display that their response was a short-lived expression of joy, a seed that sprouted quickly, as it were, but soon perished. In response to the healing of a man with a withered hand, the Pharisees and scribes are filled with anger and discuss what they can do to Jesus. The praise to God by a large crowd, including disciples, that follows at the resurrection of the widow’s son (7.16–17) has much better overtones. Yet the basis of their praise, in which Jesus is identified as a prophet, is shown to be insufficient. Comparison with dialogue between Jesus and his disciples and proclamations by Peter and a voice from heaven in subsequent contexts determine this assessment. Indeed, as Jesus journeys toward Jerusalem, it becomes clear through his chastisement of the Galilean towns he performed mighty deeds in, his critique of “this generation,” and his calls for repentance and warnings against continuing without it that the earlier responses of praise in the Galilee were inadequate. Alternatively, the praise of God by some, individual recipients of healing (13.13c; 17.15–16a; 18.43b–c), is not sullied by other factors. Still, the much anticipated praise – and joy – is found only in the last response of the final story, a response bringing the narrative to a close (24.52– 53). By this point, resolution of the conflict between Jesus and his disciples has already taken place. Conflict with the disciples begins at the same time that they are introduced: in a miracle story. Misunderstanding of who Jesus is and what he

396

Chapter 4: Luke

wants seems implied here, expressed in a response of Peter, James and John to the wondrous catch of fish (5.8–10a), though positive qualities, such as a willingness to forsake all and follow Jesus, are also depicted in a related response (5.11). The theme of misunderstanding returns in two subsequent miracle stories with the disciples, which likewise occur in private contexts. The intensity of the miracles involved increases, both of the next two being epiphanic in nature. In one of the intervening, very public, miracle stories, the disciples form a part of a large crowd that responds with praise to a resurrection Jesus accomplishes. In the private episode of the stilling of the storm the response of the disciples raises a question about who Jesus is, owing to his great authority over even the forces of wind and water (8.25b). In the soon following story of Jesus’ transfiguration, the series of responses of Peter, James and John depict misunderstanding that is, on the one hand, explicit in Peter’s bumbling attempt to honour Jesus, Elijah and Moses, not knowing what he was saying (9.32c–33). On the other hand, it is indicated by the negated use of common components, in the final response (9.36b–c): the three disciples neither say anything in response to the words of the voice from heaven commending God’s son, nor later tell others about what they saw. This, the greatest revelation experienced by any of Jesus’ contemporaries in the narrative prior to the end, is a centrepiece for depicting the human resistance to God’s plan by those who ought to be the greatest group of advocates of the plan: Jesus’ disciples. The gravity of the misunderstanding is brought into relief through contrast with the preceding episode involving Peter’s proclamation about Jesus being the messiah of God. Their lack of ability to perceive God’s plan, especially that it must involve the suffering of the messiah, is spelled out in no uncertain terms in later episodes (e.g. 9.45; 18.34). In a series of three stories of private epiphanies to disciples that follow Jesus’ crucifixion, the group slowly comes to understand that his suffering was necessary to fulfill God’s plan. The development happens in stages, beginning with smaller groups and leading to the larger one. The response of three women to the two angels at the tomb indicates their mental assent, notably through a cognitive component – they remember Jesus’ words about the necessity of the suffering. But other characters in the same response (24.8–12), the remaining disciples, notably Peter, disbelieve the words of these witnesses. Responses of two disciples in the next episode, a clandestine appearance of Jesus, also help bring about resolution to the conflict. Again, a cognitive element is important – the two’s eyes are opened and they recognise Jesus (24.31a–b). Like the women who met the angel, these disciples too return to the larger group to report their encounter (24.32–35). This time, however, the report seems to fall on good ground, for the others reply that Jesus has appeared to Peter. In the final, immediately following encounter, however, an appearance of Jesus openly to all the disciples, it is clear that the resolution of

Conclusion

397

the conflict has not been achieved. Nor does it come through the responses in this encounter. Indeed, faulty cognition (24.37) and unbelief (24,41a) are the hallmarks of both of the disciples’ collective responses. Rather, the responses aid, in fact, in delaying the resolution of conflict and building suspense. This time Jesus himself must bring about resolution. He opens the disciples’ minds to understand the Scriptures, which have predicted the necessary suffering, death and resurrection of the messiah. A pattern in responses which associates fear and being troubled more closely with the experience of epiphany also plays an important role in the narrative’s unfolding. Conversely amazement occurs typically in responses to more common, less grand miracles – especially healings, exorcisms – and in responses in epiphany stories by those more removed from the miraculous occurrences, who learn about them through reporting. The pattern is established earlier on, though even in the opening chapters a response of fear to the one healing takes place. Fear in subsequent stories of healing and exorcism, however, attracts extra attention on account of being an exception to the pattern. Twice the fear is negative, whether from the Gentiles who request Jesus’ departure or from the healed woman who anticipates chastisement for secretly touching him. Twice it is associated with praise and seems to emphasise the extraordinary magnitude of the impression made on the respondents, though in both cases the response is put into question by surrounding context. Alternatively, the fear that surfaces in response to Jesus’ stilling a storm and to a voice from heaven affirming Jesus brings those two episodes into connection with the earlier epiphany episodes, at the narrative’s onset. Fear in miracle stories does not occur again until chapter 24, where the fear of the women at the angels and of the larger group of disciples at Jesus’ sudden appearance again recalls the responses from the related stories at the other end of the narrative. But here fear finally gives way to joy and praise. The fear, then, is a way of signalling to hearers/readers that a more significant episode is unravelling before them and, potentially, also a response that is more important than the less arresting instances of amazement, an emotion which surfaces also in relation to Jesus’ teaching, while fear does not. In one instance a response-like motif, Jesus’ reply to the great faith expressed by the Capernaum centurion, ironically pits Jesus’ amazement at the Gentile in Capernaum against the amazement by Jewish dwellers of the town at an earlier exorcism. Sixth, in the final section of the analysis I addressed, assuming Markan priority, the complex interrelations of the Synoptic Gospels with respect to responses. This section, drawing upon observations made at various points in this and the previous two chapters, constitutes to the best of my knowledge the first detailed analysis of the miracle stories for the purposes of solving the Synoptic Problem. For each of the Synoptics responses are common in miracle stories. They each produce responses comprised largely of the same sort

398

Chapter 4: Luke

of components: emotion, speech, seeing, movement, reporting. And they share a pattern in which epiphanic and non-epiphanic miracle stories are differentiated from one another. For each gospel the pattern is based, at least in part, on the kind of characters responding and the type of setting. Yet some important differences are telling for the Synoptic Problem. Analysis of patterns of emotion in responses corresponding to miracle types led to the preference of the Two Document Hypothesis over the Farrer Hypothesis. For a baffling redactional procedure for Luke emerges when the latter hypothesis is adopted. I further argued that widespread shared features among the Synoptics are best explained not by assuming literary dependence alone, but by positing also the influence of a shared oral tradition. In short, the foregoing analysis has demonstrated that the responses in Luke evidence both the influence of inherited tradition, on the one hand, and the stylising of the author-redactor, on the other. The chapter has given greater attention to the latter. And, as we have seen, the Lukan author-redactor’s use the response motif at times can verge on artistry.

Chapter 5

John In the previous three chapters I have analysed how the response motif in miracle stories is employed in each of the Synoptic Gospels, respectively. For each gospel I showed how the response motif is used in diverse ways, especially for characterisation and for plot development. I observed how both positive and negative aspects of a range of characters are depicted through the responses. A particular element in responses, such as reporting or even praise, can be used for a positive, negative or more complex portrayal. Responses serve to further various types of conflict and to bring them to their resolutions. This is true both for individual stories and for the overall narrative of a given gospel – the revelation of the secret identity of Jesus as the Son of God (Mark), the defeat of the Satan by God through Jesus losing in conflicts with religious leaders and his disciples (Matthew), the over-coming of human resistance, especially in the disciples, to God’s saving purpose (Luke). In short, the employment of the response motif is far from monolithic. Its employment is often, in fact, creative. Frequently responses have significance beyond simply demonstrating Jesus’ remarkable nature and the miracles related to him. This finding is surprising given the fact that – as many form critics have observed – responses in all three of the Synoptics have some similar formal qualities. In particular responses there commonly draw upon a shared body of elements. A question remains as to what extent the response motif is present and significant in the miracle stories of the Gospel of John, including in light of its larger narrative. A related question concerns the nature of the motif and, finally, the ways in which it is employed in John. As to the first question, for various reasons it might be expected that responses in miracle stories are neither common nor significant in John. As form critics have noticed, responses of fear and amazement, a feature perhaps most characteristic of responses in the Synoptics taken as a group, are rare in John. So, relative to the Synoptics, responses may be less common in John. Whatever responses do occur may also have less significance overall, owing to the fact that, in contrast to the other three gospels, John contains only a few stories of healing and no exorcisms. Indeed, by any counting the Fourth Gospel contains fewer miracle stories than any one of the Synoptic Gospels. With few stories held in common by John and the Synoptics, it might be expected a priori that the Johannine material is categorically different from the synoptic

400

Chapter 5: John

material. It would not be surprising, then, if the attention devoted to responses in miracle stories in the Synoptics was not paralleled in John. But in John the miracle stories that occur during Jesus’ ministry occupy a large proportion of the relevant part of the narrative. This fact, then, could suggest that whatever responses do occur might play a significant role in the respective stories and, as a result, the overall narrative. Some scholars suggest that belief in John functions as a counterpart to fear and amazement in the Synoptics. Belief is a recurrent and important theme in John. Scholars’ conceptions of the plot and typical means of character portrayal in the Fourth Gospel often pertain to the notion of belief. If such an understanding is correct, then the responses in this gospel may have marked significance overall. As to the second question asked above, it can already be expected that in at least one respect the responses in John as a group distinguish themselves from those in the Synoptics. As mentioned, while emotions commonly occur in the Synoptics but not in John, belief is more common in the latter. Yet, early form-critical studies did not pay attention to such features of responses as references to visual sensation, cognition, falling or movement between locations. When such elements of responses are analysed, will there be greater or lesser similarity between the responses in all four gospels? It has been well observed by previous scholarship that miracle stories in John (especially chs. 5, 9 and 11) can be long and involved. Correspondingly, in such contexts what occurs is a lengthier, more complex narration of various characters’ words and actions – often involving interaction – following a miracle. It would be inconsistent with the definition adopted here 1 to label such narrative sequences as responses. Still, in such cases key actions and/or speeches of the characters most crucial to the respective stories function like the responses known from other stories, both in John and in the Synoptics. Moreover, similar to the Synoptics, miracle stories in John can be divided into those of epiphanies and other types of miracles, with the former occurring both in the text’s first half, amidst stories of healing and the provision of food (and drink), and at the end of the second, with appearances of or otherwise related to the resurrected Jesus. In light of the analysis in the foregoing chapters, what needs examination is whether in John, too, responses play a part in the means of differentiation between the epiphanic and other stories. The above considerations suggest that the responses in the Johannine miracle stories are likely to be both similar to and different from those in the Synoptics. Moreover, literary creativity has probably shaped the contours of the response motif in John. It is perhaps natural that a comparison between John and the Synoptics receives attention and may even come quickly to mind when the miracle stories 1

See the definition of this term in Chapter One, above.

State of the Question

401

are concerned. I have dwelt on this comparison in the foregoing not only because it is interesting in its own right but also in order to help hone the lens through which the two questions stated above can be asked of the narrative of John, narrative-critically studied. Indeed, such a study of the Johannine narrative on its own terms is the focus of the present chapter, while in the following chapter I will consider all four of the Gospels together. What is needed here first and foremost is a careful analysis of the responses in relation to the miracle story at hand as well as the larger narrative. Considering the responses in relation to one another – also to descriptions of characters’ reactions of belief in non-miraculous contexts – may well be of particular importance here, given preliminary considerations. Finally, I make a few technical remarks about the analysis to follow. Again, as in the preceding chapters, aspects of both literary and linguistic approaches will be employed. Despite some difference in the material analysed in this chapter, it seems reasonable to investigate here, under the rubric of response, characters’ key actions in Jn 5, 9 and 11, which in common parlance might be described as responses to miracles. Data will be collected in this chapter in a manner that will also enable the discussion in the following chapter on the question of the interrelations of the Gospels.

State of the Question A considerable amount has been written on John from a narrative-critical perspective. Numerous scholars see responses to miracles playing an important part in the narrative of John, notably regarding plot and characterisation. R. Alan Culpepper (1983: 88), writing the acclaimed, 2 first book-length narrative critical treatment of John, defines its plot development as “a matter of how Jesus’ identity comes to be recognized and how it fails to be recognized.” The plot is, specifically, “propelled by conflict between belief and unbelief as responses to Jesus” (Culpepper 1983: 97). These “responses” occur in episodes of dialogue-based encounters as well as in miracle stories, as “Jesus’ identity [is] progressively revealed by the repetitive signs and discourses and the progressive enhancement of metaphorical and symbolic im-

2 See, e.g., Brown 1984; Moore 1989: 45–50; Frey and Poplutz 2012: 6. For Anderson (2008: 368), Culpepper’s study is “the most significant work in Johannine studies” in a “quarter century.” On the history of Johannine studies (in which the narrative had been “eclipsed”) preceding Culpepper’s watershed contribution, see Thatcher (2008). Anderson (2008: 368–369) and Moloney (2012a: 313–319; 2012b: 426–428) trace subsequent literary studies; cf. Culpepper (2007). Stibbe (1993b: 1–2, 1) critiques Culpepper’s “covert modernism” and failure to engage previous literary studies.

402

Chapter 5: John

ages” (Culpepper 1983: 88–89). Still “each episode has essentially the same plot as the story as a whole” (Culpepper 1983: 89). Thomas, seeing Jesus, resurrected, “offers the gospel’s climactic confession, ‘my Lord and my God’” (Culpepper 1983: 96). 3 This view has much to commend it. Some emendations are considered below. Culpepper’s related view on characterisation in John, however, has undergone significant revision. One of the two primary functions of characterisation of those other than Jesus and “the Father,” Culpepper (1983:145) claims in his watershed study, is “to represent alternative responses to Jesus so that the reader can see their attendant misunderstandings and consequences.” The characters are, thus, types. A host of scholars, notably Cornelis Bennema, has challenged this view. 4 Culpepper (2013b: 23) now affirms “the complexity and ambiguity of the Gospel’s more developed characters.” Looking at all characters save agents, actants and walk-ons, Bennema (2009) considers characterisation from three angles: complexity, development, inner life. He finds that a given character may be a type, a personality or an individual – only Jesus, Judas, Peter and, to some extent, Pilate are in the last category. 5 The profile of characters cannot be reduced to their “beliefresponses” (Bennema 2009: 204). Still, each character’s “response to Jesus” fits within the gospel’s dualism: belief/unbelief. 6 Thus, the “characters are representative figures in that they have a symbolic or illustrative value beyond the narrative but not in a reductionist, ‘typical’ sense” (Bennema 2009: 208). Bennema’s excellent work, his attention to detail, can be extended, by recognising the presence of a belief-unbelief continuum. A given reaction of belief in Jesus, for example, may express one of a variety of levels of belief. There is more than a Boolean on/off switch at work. 7 Indeed Bennema’s

3 Similarly, Brown 1966–1970: 2:1047; Moloney 1998b: 537; Keener 2003: 2:1196, 1210–1212; Salier 2004: 163; Bennema 2009: 166–167; Popp 2013: 520–521, 527. Carter (2008: 168), too, sees Jesus’ resurrection, generally, as the climax (the “surprising reversal” of “injustice and damage” that is the crucifixion). Note for Culpepper (1983: 73) the account of Jesus appearance to Thomas is not a miracle story, the “last sign” being “the raising of Lazarus”. 4 “The literature on characterization [in Johannine scholarship] is now vast!” (Culpepper 2013b: 20, with bibliography). Note, also, the massive volume of Hunt et al. (2013). For Taylor’s (2011) notices, see Section A of Chapter Two, above. 5 The distinction between personality and individual is not laid out clearly by Bennema (2009). 6 These “responses” fit within a plot comparable to that conceived of by Culpepper (Bennema 2009: 15–17). 7 Bennema (2009: 204): the narrator “only allows for two categories of responses – adequate and inadequate.” Nielsen (2008) offers a more nuanced argument for a bimodality

State of the Question

403

(2009: 204–205, table 2) own observation that some characters have adequate and inadequate “responses” casts doubt on the proposed strict bimodality. Susan E. Hylen (2013b: 108, 110) argues, “Some characters understand certain things about Jesus, while other characters understand different things, but still display incomplete knowledge”; thus, “faith appears less a single existential achievement and more a lengthy process....” Faith can grow. Still – in affirmation of Bennema’s view – a dividing line exists between adequate and inadequate reactions to Jesus, including inadequate faith (e.g. 2.23–25), despite the varying shades of both. 8 Another important narrative critic in Johannine studies is Francis J. Moloney. Though he sees the climax elsewhere – Jesus’ crucifixion – his analysis of plot is similar in certain respects to that of Culpepper. 9 The dénouement in its original form (i.e. without Jn 21) is concerned with “the disciples’ response to Jesus,” returning to a central issue of the “opening pages,” namely “how one might respond to him (1:19–4:54)” (Moloney 1998b: 515–516, emphasis original). In both the narrative’s opening and proposed ending the central “theme of belief” occurs within a “series of faith journeys” (Moloney 1998a: 154). 10 Earlier, two characters’ journeys take place in miracle stories; at the end, the journeys of three characters transpire in stories of the empty tomb and Jesus’ appearances. Moloney’s vision of the plot offers some correction to the one presented by Culpepper, giving attention to the ever-anticipated hour of Jesus’ ironic glorification, his enthronement on the cross, revealing “[t]he God who so loved the world... to all who gaze upon the one who has laid down his life for his friends...” (Moloney 1998a: 150). In a similar vein is Jörg Frey’s noteworthy investigation of the numerous angles through which this important aspect of the plot is presented – attested in the title of his recent collection of essays, Die Herrlichkeit des Gekreuzigten (Frey 2013a). 11 Yet Frey’s take is in some

(faith vs. hamartia) which only becomes unambiguous in the resurrection appearances. This is still ultimately unsatisfactory. 8 Thus, the belief in Jesus of characters who “seek to kill him” (Hylen 2013b: 97, 108) is, ultimately, found wanting. Hylen’s emphasis on ambiguity, to my mind, does not make the line between adequate and inadequate belief clear. 9 Specifically, Jesus’ “exclamation of achievement, almost of triumph” (τετέλεσται; Jn 19.30) is the climax (Moloney 1998b: 504). Similarly, O’Day 1986: 111; Brant 2004: 258; Lincoln 2005: 12–13 (seeing the resurrection, too, within the climax, though less so); Frey 2007: 66. 10 The beginning and end are drawn together also by “words... from the narrator” (Moloney 1998a: 154). 11 “The Glory of the Crucified One.” See especially, Frey’s (2013a: 556, emphasis original) statement, “Die Sterbeszene Jesu in Joh 19,28–30 kann mit Fug und Recht als der innere Zielpunkt der johanneischen Jesuserzählung betrachtet werden” (“The death scene

404

Chapter 5: John

sense still close to that of Culpepper, since Frey sees that Thomas’ confession of belief (Jn 20.28) comes “mit dem höchsten und kühnsten Christusbekenntinis des ganzen Johannesevangeliums” in an episode that is the “Klimax” of the “johanneischen Ostererzählungen.” 12 And Frey (1997–2000: 2:241; emphasis original) observes that Jesus’ “hour,” being the deciding, eschatological moment from the Johannine point of view, is “das Geschehen von Kreuz und Auferstehung Jesu.” 13 Interestingly, the resurrection of Jesus is not narrated! Thus, insofar as the narrative is concerned, a further tension is built: it would seem that the narration of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances serve to round off the retelling of Jesus’ hour. The narrator binds himself in this way to the portrayal of the characters’ experience of the result of Jesus’ resurrection. Culpepper’s basic analysis remains convincing: the principal plot line is that of characters’ recognition and reception of (belief or unbelief in) Jesus – notably the crucified and resurrected Jesus. 14 Yet subplots, especially Jesus’ ironic glorification on the cross, must be given the attention due them. 15

of Jesus in Jn 19.28–30 can justifiably be considered the inner goal of the Johannine Jesus-story” [i.e. the key, though not the final destination]). See further below, n. 14. 12 “...with the highest and boldest Christ-confession of the entire Gospel of John”; “climax” of the “Johannine Easter-stories” (Frey 2011: 5, 25). For Moloney (1998b: 537) Thomas’ confession does not play such a central role. 13 “the events of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection.” 14 Note the prologue plays a key role in guiding understanding of the narrative. Observing tensions the prologue sets up, Koester (2008: 48–49) notes: “The purpose of sending the Word in the flesh is that people might believe and have life... [But] faith cannot be faith unless Jesus is alive. The conviction that the Jesus who was crucified is now living and that people can now relate to him undergirds the whole of John’s message.” The prologue (Jn 1.5b) barely hints at Jesus’ crucifixion – and not without an intimation that he, as the Light, will not finally be snuffed out; similarly, Schnelle (2008:134). (When first alluded to, the crucifixion is subordinated, epistemologically and in terms of function, to Jesus’ resurrection [2.19–22].) Frey (1997–2000: 2:216–217) notes the important appeal to the hearers/readers’ belief at Jn 19.35, in addition to the consequential cluster of τετέλεσται... τελειωθῇ... τετέλεσται (19.28, 30). Still, the ultimate appeal to belief (20.30–31) is based on the signs that have been written. These include Jesus’ resurrection appearances, but probably not his crucifixion (see below). On the copious use of the HP in ch. 20, which aids in marking the climax, see below, n. 292. 15 The escalating conflict with religious authorities, yet another important subplot line, is also not adequately accounted for in Culpepper’s conception (so Carter 2008: 148). Further, despite the lack of exorcisms, the conflict of Jesus and God with demons and/or the Satan is present (contra Culpepper 1983: 91), implicitly when slurs are ironically aimed at Jesus (Jn 7.20; 8.48, 52; 10.20) and explicitly mostly through Jesus’ speech (6.70; 8.44; 12.31; 14.30; 16.11), though at one key moment the Satan acts as a character (13.27). Jesus’ battle with the “ruler of this world,” related to the cosmic struggle between light and darkness (1.5), is important in the narrative, though the topic occurs in dialogue only.

State of the Question

405

Other conceptions of the plot exist, understandably, now that narrative criticism has become a hallmark of Johannine scholarship. 16 For present purposes, it is sufficient to note two recurring themes in this connection. One is the importance given to characters’ believing or unbelieving reactions to Jesus. 17 The other is the role miracle stories play as a plotting device. 18 Both of these themes are taken up in an insightful article by Craig R. Koester (2008). Claiming that “the resurrection appearances have a role like that of the signs” – a topic I will return to below – he finds the intended relation of the signs and appearances to faith (“the issue that runs throughout the Fourth Gospel”) to be positive (Koester 2008: 48, 52). 19 The said miraculous occurrences do foster faith, provided the relevant characters’ “perspective has already been positively shaped by what they have heard from or about Jesus”; otherwise they “regularly” have a negative effect (Koester 2008: 54, 55). 20 Thus, Koester, like Hylen, notes the growth of faith, though he scarcely addresses the matter of inadequate faith. 21 Crucial here is Koester’s mindfulness that in the Fourth Gospel faith pertains not so much to propositions as to placing trust in another person or, in the present context, another character. 22 He insightfully observes the relation between characters’ patterns of faith growth and the text’s explicit statement of intent, fostering faith in hearers/readers (Jn 20.30–31). As “words have been essential in fostering faith in the people depicted in the gospel” so the “words of the text convey Jesus to the readers in ways that are designed to evoke and sustain faith” (Koester 2008: 73). 23 16 Still, Carter (2008: 145) observes, “Discussions of John’s plot have not been numerous,” with even narrative critics focusing on structure instead. Alternatives include: Stibbe (1994: 32–53), using A. J. Greimas’ structuralist model; Resseguie’s (2001: 171–172) comic plot; Lincoln (2005: 11–14), using the categories of commission, complication and resolution; Carter (2008: 148–170), adapting Aristotle’s “necessary or usual consequence” and “surprising reversal”; Brant (2011: 14), offering three overlapping conceptions of the plot – prophetic, tragic, heroic. 17 E.g. Resseguie 2001: 178–180; Carter 2006: 111 (cf. 26–27, 93–99); Poplutz 2013: 666–667. See, with emphasis on unbelief, Dodd (1953: 379–380) – cf. Culpepper (2013a) on Dodd as “a precursor to narrative criticism.” 18 E.g. Moloney 1998b: 23; Carter 2006: 28–29; Poplutz 2013: 662–663. Cf. Dodd 1953: 289; Michaels 2010: 33. 19 Koester (2008: 48) notes, “John wrote in order that people might believe.” 20 I note an alternative view: though “signs are inadequate to guarantee solid faith... they can provoke one to begin on that journey” (Keener 2003: 2:1215; emphasis added). 21 See, e.g., Koester’s (2008: 65–66) discussion of Jn 11.45; 12.12–18, 32–34 (cf. 12.35–43). He briefly mentions “unreliable faith” with respect to 2.23–25 and “misguided faith,” generally (Koester 2008: 53, 55). 22 Koester 2008: 48. Cf. Bennema 2009: 17. 23 Similarly, Salier (2004: 172) claims: “The σημεῖα... are an essential part of the Gospel’s presentation and the cumulative weight of their presentation is intended to prompt a response of faith in Jesus by the reader.”

406

Chapter 5: John

At the same time, the initial seven miracle stories contribute to the forward motion of the plot, moving it towards the crucifixion and resurrection appearances of Jesus. Christian Welck (1994) helps bring this aspect of the larger story to light. The miracle stories begin pointing forwards already with Jesus’ first sign, where mention is made of his approaching “hour.” The wine miracle is be understood in light of this moment, the culmination of Jesus’ eschatological coming into this world, “der Erlösungstat Jesu am Kreuz,” (Welck 1994: 136). 24 Frey (2016: 220, 222) observes that the “hour,” which “is left unclear at this point and only clarified in later passages,” is more broadly conceived, encompassing both “the death and resurrection of Jesus.” Arguing for similar forward-pointing references to Jesus’ execution and resurrection in the healing of the man born blind (Jn 9), Frey (2016: 225) suggests that such narrative techniques are found in “all (seven) miracle stories in John 2–12.” The mere physical benefits of the miracles – wine, food, recovery from illness, receiving sight etc. – point to the far greater benefit offered by Jesus the “eschatological life-giver” (Frey 2016: 231), the nature and source of which is only fully unveiled in Jesus’ “hour.” Since Welck, concerned more about the implications of sign stories for the post-Easter readers/hearers than for the characters within the Gospel, has shown such a narrative program to be the case in only some of the remaining five stories, 25 Frey’s suggestion could profitably be followed up on. 26 What also remains to be further explored is the potential contributions to this aspect of the plot that responses, including those of belief, in the miracle stories may make. 27 It is worth addressing in more detail the fact that Welck’s study gives less attention to the narrative and the world that it constructs and much more to the (assumed) make-up and needs of the community for whom the Fourth

24

“Jesus’ salvific act on the cross.” Welck (1994: 160; emphasis original) takes the signs, generally, to be “der Anfang des eschatologischen (Heils-)Geschehens, insofern sie als massive Wunder, resp. ‚Zeichen‘ unübersehbarer Aufruf und Anlaß zur entscheidenden Reaktion des Menschen, zum wirklichen πιστεύειν an Jesus und eben damit zum Heil, zur ζωή… sind.” But here again (see above, n. 28), his focus is on the world inhabited by the audience, not the world depicted within the text. Nevertheless, in some stories his analysis seems to address a forwardpointing aspect at work in the plot. For example, Jesus’ words about “the bread of life,” playing off of the miraculous provision of bread, point to “seiner Selbsthingabe am Kreuz” (Welck 1994: 160; emphasis original). 26 The truncated closing boundaries proposed by Welck for the stories of the healing of the man born blind (also Frey here) and the resurrection of Lazarus unfortunately preclude important references to Jesus’ impending death and resurrection. 27 Welck (1994: 237–238; cf. 309) well observes the importance given to belief in the miracle stories for reception of Jesus’ eschatological offer of life. (See also above, n. 25). 25

State of the Question

407

Gospel has been written. 28 This criticism is also true for Frey’s approach to some extent. It would seem that in this scholarship the belief of characters in the Gospel of John is little more than a foil for the deeper, more important belief of the hearers/readers. Yet, even if the hearers/readers know more than the characters throughout the narrative, even up to its conclusion, the disparity should not be over-stated. For within the future of the narrative world, the understanding of the disciples as characters, as facilitated by the spirit, has been predicted by none other than Jesus himself (Jn 14.16, 26; 16.12–13). And the disciples’ post-resurrection reception of the spirit is clearly narrated (20.22). Moreover, the hearers/readers are dependent upon the narrator, the Beloved Disciple, for all their insights on the metaphorical implications of the events narrated. The narrator, then, being also a character in the Gospel, has come to these insights before the audience, on account of the same spirit. It should be borne in mind that belief language (πιστεῦσαι etc.) is not more common in responses in miracle stories in Jn 1–12 or the resurrection appearance stories than in other encounters with Jesus. Rather, belief/unbelief in Jesus, often but not always employing belief language, is a motif that ties together various disparate types of encounters with him. 29 Nor is belief language especially present in the stories of miraculous occurrences. The question naturally arises, given the strong link made between signs and the intention to elicit belief from hearers/readers, as to why responses of belief do not have a stronger presence in stories of the miraculous. To the best of my knowledge this question has not been raised in previous studies. Also what sort of other responses occur and what might their various portrayals indicate? The question of how many miracle stories are in John should be addressed, bearing in mind that the etic concepts of miracle and miracle story need to be related to the emic concept of sign and each individual episode that relates a sign. A time-honoured scholarly tradition divides the Fourth Gospel “structurally” into two parts – the “Book of Signs” (Jn 1.19–12.50) and the “Book

28 In Welck’s division between the narrative’s “vordergründig-dramatische Dimension” and “hintergründig-heilsdramatisiche Dimension,” he takes the latter not uniquely or even primarily as something that transpires later within the narrative (or even later in the narrative world) but as essentially the dimension of what the Fourth Gospel’s community has come to believe about the eschatological appearance of Jesus in the world. The potential distance between Welck’s approach and a narrative-critical approach is seen particularly in his analysis of Jn 6.16–25. He derives understanding of the story primarily as an encouraging metaphor for believers who, without the physical presence of Jesus, are “in ihrer irdischen Existenz unterwegs” towards the goal of salvation (Welck 1994: 171). 29 This is perhaps to be expected, since, as Koester notes, belief on account of Jesus’ words is often portrayed as superior to belief resulting from only seeing miracles.

408

Chapter 5: John

of Glory” (13.1–20.31) – with a prologue (1.1–18) and epilogue (ch. 21). 30 Correspondingly, seven stories of signs, all of which are miracles, are found in the first half, while much of the epilogue is taken to be the remaining story. 31 A helpful aspect of this approach is the identification of a specific relation between a given story, that is a literary unit, and the sign it contains (so, especially, Jn 2.11, 4.54). But problems immediately arise from this picture. Evidently, the Gospel contains more than eight narrated signs. And at least one such additional sign is not found in chapters 1–12 or 21. The primary close of the narrative (Jn 20.30–31), prior to the epilogue, indicates the express purpose of the written narrative. The opening sentence is key to the issue at hand (20.30): πολλὰ μὲν οὖν καὶ ἄλλα σημεῖα ἐποίησεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἐνώπιον τῶν μαθητῶν [αὐτοῦ], ἃ οὐκ ἔστιν γεγραμμένα ἐν τῷ βιβλίῳ τούτῳ·

The implication of this text is that the immediately foregoing story (or stories), narrating the post-resurrection appearance of Jesus, recounts a σημεῖον. For some, an assumed awkwardness is understood to stem from a poor reworking of sources. 32 But such a solution is unnecessary and less probable for various reasons, in addition to the one just cited, namely the simple reading of the text of 20.30 in its current location in the Gospel. 33 First, early in the narrative Jesus responds to the question “τί σημεῖον δεικνύεις ἡμῖν ὅτι ταῦτα ποιεῖς;” (Jn 2.18) by predicting the “rebuilding” of the temple of his body, three days after its destruction. Second, the theme of seeing Jesus’ glory, which is important to the narrative (see esp. 1.14), is related to not only his signs, generally (cf. 1.50–51; 2.11), but specifically to the sign (11.47; 12.18) of resurrection in chapter 11 (here seeing “God’s glory” [11.4; 40] is closely related to Jesus being “glorified” [11.4]). A story pertaining to Jesus’ resurrection, then, could well be understood as a sign portraying Jesus’ glory (and God’s). Third, the language of “appearing” (φανερῶσαι) has to do at times with Jesus’ signs, whether Jesus’ glory (2.11; or, possibly, deeds [3.21]) or the deeds (9.3) or name (17.4–6) of God are what is revealed. There is some merit, therefore, to understanding the reference in the epilogue (21.1, 14) to Jesus’ “third” revealing of himself as per30 E.g. Dodd 1953: 289; Brown 1966–1970: 1:cxxxviii; Moloney 1998b: 23; Poplutz 2013: 662–663. 31 The stories’ concluding boundaries are variously conceived: Jn 2.1–11; 4.46–54; 5.1– 18(–47); 6.1–15; 6.16–21(–25); 9.1–41(–10.21); 11.1–44(–54); 21.1–14. Cf. Welck 1994: 131–235; Labahn 1999: 113; Poplutz 2013: 660. 32 The theory, associated esp. with Bultmann (1959) and Fortna (1970), is that Jn 20.30– 31, originally the ending of a so-called Signs Source, was awkwardly transposed to this place in the Gospel. 33 Similarly, Frey 2016: 226.

State of the Question

409

taining specifically to that aspect of the story that is concerned with the miracle as a sign. It would follow, then, that the two preceding episodes of Jesus’ appearance to his disciples (20.19–23, 24–29) should likewise be understood as stories of signs. Also, it would seem that the story of his appearance personally to Mary could (20.11–18) reasonably be added to the list of sign stories. All of these points confirm the understanding that the story narrating a post-resurrection appearance of Jesus just before 20.30–31, at least, is a narrative about a sign, while in all probability the same is true of the other two such epiphany stories in Jn 20. 34 Such an approach to the stories of signs in John has the added advantage of aligning with the definition of miracle story – including both epiphanic and non-epiphanic episodes – that in the preceding chapters I have argued is appropriate for the other gospels. But are sign stories in John coextensive with miracle stories, thus defined? A good case cannot be made for Jesus’ death by crucifixion being a sign, an episode that judging from scholarly opinion would be the next best candidate. 35 None of the three key points in favour of the hypothesis are compelling: (1) use of the snake metaphor in 3.14; 36 (2) 34 Admittedly some tension results from the observations that Jesus depicts his future “rebuilding of this temple” as itself a sign in Jn 2.19 and that in the stories of Jesus’ postresurrection appearances the epiphanies themselves are portrayed as signs. 35 For Salier (2004: 149, 151) “the death and resurrection considered as a complex event” are “the final and climactic sign.” The earlier view of Dodd (1953: 439), which also takes Jesus’ “death-and-resurrection” as “one complete event,” is less precise – after describing “the Passion of the Lord” as “the final and all-inclusive σημεῖον,” he goes on to speak of the resurrection “[i]n its [sic] character as σημεῖον.” Barrett (1978: 78, 194) takes the “death and resurrection” unambiguously together, yet vacillates as to whether “this event” is greater than the signs – “not merely a token of something other than itself” – or is “the last and supreme sign.” Jesus’ “hour” is the concept that embraces Jesus’ crucifixion, resurrection and ascension (cf. Frey 1997–2000: 2:219 and 2013a: 706, n. 40). (NB Brown [1966–1970: 1: 528] suggests that “the raising up of the Son of Man” is a “candidate for a non-miraculous sign,” though he is cautious, since “[e]very use of sēmeion refers to a miraculous deed.” He opposes the idea, however, that either the crucifixion itself or, indeed, the resurrection is a sign [Brown 1966–1970: 2:1059].) Frey (2016: 231) sees that “the passion and crucifixion narrative,” though “not a sign as the other signs,” is still a story “point[ing] to a deeper level of meaning, and is thus in accord with the epistemological structure of the whole Gospel.” 36 First, since Moses places the snake on a σημεῖον in Num 21.8–9 (LXX), there is no simple equation of snake and sign. Also, since no citation from the LXX at all occurs in Jn 3, it is unclear as to whether the narrator even expects the hearers/readers to have the Septuagintal text in their mind’s eye (or ear). Moreover, the means of connection between Jn 3 and Num 21 pertain to “lifting up” and “giving life.” While the former is not to be found explicitly in Num 21, the latter is (21.8, 9). Thus, it seems better to take the clearly stated connections between Jn 3.14–15 and Num 21.8–9 as the guiding line for interpretation. Important connections within the gospel regarding Jesus’ being lifted up and giving

410

Chapter 5: John

use of σημᾶναι in Jn 12.33 and 18.32; 37 and (3) Jesus’ answer to the request for a sign by foretelling his crucifixion and resurrection in Jn 2.19. 38 Moreover, the close association between miracle and sign has been firmly established in the narrative, on account of technical terminology, long before Jesus’ passion, beginning in fact with the first narrated sign, in ch. 2. This association would not likely be challenged in the minds of hearers/readers at this late point, given the absence of any explicit use of σημεῖον. Nor are there strong grounds for seeing any other episode as a story of a sign, though Jn 20.1–20 should give one reason to pause, especially given the episode’s immediate relation to the un-narrated event of Jesus’ resurrection, part of his “hour,” and the subsequent epiphanic episodes. 39 Rather, the best

life lend further credence to this line of argumentation. An allusion in Jn 3 to the term σημεῖον in Num 21 (LXX), though possible, is unlikely. 37 It should first be noted that no necessary connection, let alone a technical one, exists between a cognate noun and verb, though there may well be a general semantic similarity. Second, the usages of σημᾶναι and σημεῖον in Jn are different in numerous important respects. In John σημᾶναι is used three times (12.33; 18.32; 21.19), always in a particular form (participle with imperfective aspect), in a specific context and with particular content. Indeed, the term’s use is formulaic, quasi-technical: (1) it appears only in the phrase σημαίνων ποίῳ θανάτῳ...; (2) it always modifies speech; (3) Jesus is the speaker; (4) the context is someone’s death. (The use of σημᾶναι functions, in part, to link Jesus’ death to Peter’s.) Finally, the infrequent and late (beginning in Jn 12) use of the verb gives it a less central role than that possessed by σημεῖον, a term appearing early and playing a specific role with respect to the plot and appeal to hearers/readers. 38 The pertinent question to be raised concerns the agency articulated in Jesus’ reply to a request for a σημεῖον. His opponents will destroy the temple; Jesus will rebuild it (2.19). The statement, then, actually speaks against his death as a sign and for his resurrection as a sign. It is seemingly programmatic, being the first mention of Jesus’ death. 39 Generally, Frey (2016: 227) argues that, regardless of the presence of a miraculous element, “the internal structure of significance” in a story, which points to a deeper “dimension of meaning,” is fundamental for determining what is a sign. He takes Jn 20.1–10, above all, as a non-miraculous sign story, arguing that for the Beloved Disciple “the status of the tomb is a sign” (Frey 2016: 228), speaking also of “das ‘Zeichen’ der Leichentücher” (Frey 2013a: 724). Yet, as Frey (2016: 227) himself notes, the Beloved Disciple “concludes from the position of the cloths, not only that Jesus is not there, but more precisely that he has actively risen and left his tomb in good order.” Thus, we are not concerned here with just any story about an event in which a deeper epistemological relevance is to be found, but much more in a story intimately related to a critical miraculous event, Jesus’ resurrection. Interestingly, the description of the Beloved Disciple’s reaction (καὶ εἶδεν καὶ ἐπίστευσεν: 20.8b–c) bares marked similarity to some responses of belief in miracle stories (e.g. 20.28–29). This observation gains added significance in light of the story’s special relation to Jesus’ resurrection and appearances, which I noted above. Thus the possibility of 20.1–10 being a story about a sign does not raise a significant challenge to understanding sign stories and miracles stories as being one and the same.

Miracle Stories with Responses

411

solution is to understand miracle stories in John as sign stories and vice versa. 40 Thus, building on the ideas of Welck and Frey, it is reasonable to see stories of signs, through their depiction of a work or act of power performed by Jesus (including epiphanic appearances), as – not only as referring in a general way to the eschatological revelation of salvation in Jesus which ought to bring about the faith of the hearers/readers of the Gospel, but also – possessing one of two specific narrative functions, both of which are related to Jesus’ death and resurrection. Concerning the first of these functions, early miracle stories move the narrative forward by pointing to these events, which will finalise Jesus’ provision of life to the other characters in the narrative world who have already believed in him. Concerning the second, stories of appearances of the resurrected Jesus advance the narrative by building upon and drawing out the meaning of his execution and return to life for the relevant characters, as well as portraying the development of the individual disciples’ and the larger group’s understanding of and belief in Jesus. Finally, in light of Taylor’s analysis of levels of narration in the Gospels – he examines Mark primarily (see above, Chapter Two, Section A) – the question remains as to which miracle stories in John employ the mythic level. And, following the analyses of the preceding three chapters, the related question arises: do the responses in such stories exhibit common traits that tie them together – the type of focalisation, characters responding, functional roles of respondents, setting and/or elements in the responses?

Miracle Stories with Responses All 11 miracle stories in John describe characters’ actions in response to a miracle – i.e. what is accepted as a response, despite some incongruity of definition, for the present comparative study: (1) changing of water to wine (Jn 2.1–11); (2) healing of the official’s son (4.46–54); (3) healing of the sick man (5.1–47); (4) multiplication of the loaves (6.1–15); (5) walking on water (6.16–21); (6) healing of the blind man (9.1–41[–10.21]); (7) raising of Lazarus (11.1–54); (8) Jesus’ appearance to Mary (20.11–18); (9) Jesus’ appearance to the disciples (20.19–25); (10) Jesus’ appearance to the disciples, including Thomas (20.26–29); (11) Jesus’ appearance to disciples at the Sea of

40 My view is similar to that of Brown (1966–1970: 2:1058, 1059): “...John thinks of the appearances [incl. Jn 20.11–18] as signs,” but “there is no evidence that... the resurrection itself is a sign. Koester (2008), like Dodd (on Dodd, Barrett and Salier, see above, n. 35), sees the resurrection appearances as superior to and distinct from the signs.

412

Chapter 5: John

Tiberias (21.1–14). 41 The story of the visit to the empty tomb (20.1–10), portrayed somewhat like a miracle story, contains something very similar to a response (20.8–9). 42 Something akin to a miracle story is once embedded in speech, a report of the spirit descending and resting upon Jesus (1.32–34). 43 Disparate features here bear similarity to elements of responses. These two phenomena (1.32–34; 20.8–9) will also be referred to in the analysis below. 44

Number of Responses within a Miracle Story In four cases the response in a miracle story is formal, consisting of one to two (contiguous) sentences: Jn 2.11c; 4.53; 6.14; 6.19b–c; (cf. 20.8–9). 45 One story has two single-sentence responses (20.20b; 20.25a). Another story has a moderately formal response (four sentences): 21.7. Thus the two stories hav-

41

Welck (1994: 249–252, 249) also sees the response motif (“Reaktionen auf das Wunder”) as a consistent aspect of the initial seven miracle stories. 42 See Chapter One, above, on the definition of miracle story. I discuss the characteristics of Jn 20.1–10 both above, in Section A, and below, in Section Q. Brown (1966– 1970: 2:1059, citing Jn “xx 1–28”) seems to take this story, along with the stories of resurrection appearances, as a “sign.” 43 Two other miracles take place in stories of a dialogue in Jerusalem (Jn 12.28) and Jesus’ arrest (18.6). 44 Note one other miracle is followed by features akin to a response (Jn 12.29), while another is not (20.12–13). Neither miraculous incident occurs in a miracle story or is considered a sign. 45 Jn 6.21a is excluded as (part of) a response for two reasons. First, the disciples’ fear is assuaged owing to Jesus’ speech, not a miraculous occurrence. Second, that the disciples’ desire to “receive” (λαβεῖν) Jesus resonates with larger Johannine themes (cf. 1.11– 2) is less than certain. The verb is too common in Greek and the context here does not have further indications of such a connection. And the disciples’ intended action (ἤθελον... λαβεῖν; 6.21a) is unsuccessful, interrupted by the immediate arrival of the boat at their destination (καὶ... ἐγένετο; 6.21b). Note: a similar interruption with the same sequence of verb types and intervening connective is found in 10.39 (ἐζήτουν... πιάσαι καὶ ἐξῆλθον). Because of ἀλλά (cf. Levinsohn 2000: 114–115; Runge 2010: 56–57, 92–100) Jn 7.44 is not a meaningful example for comparison. Those seeing an unsuccessful attempt in a negative light include Hylen (2013a: 217–218). Some scholars see the attempt as positive – (and successful) Moloney (1998b: 203); Salier (2004: 108) – (and unsuccessful) Michaels (2010: 357–358) – (and unspecific as to success) Keener (2003: 1:674); Koester (2008: 62–63). (Brown [1966–1970: 1:252, 254] – for whom the attempt’s success is ambiguous – and Barrett [1978: 281] and Chibici-Revneanu [2013: 718] – for whom the attempt fails – do not specify if the endeavour is to be seen positively.) Previous discussion has focused on singular lexemes, notably θελῆσαι and λαβεῖν, without adequate attention to intersentential analysis.

Number of Responses within a Miracle Story

413

ing more than one miracle (6.16–21; 21.1–14) 46 contain only one response. Verbal interaction between various parties is the hallmark of responses in other stories. Once Jesus’ comments seem to take part formally in the portrayal of a character’s (Thomas’) response: 20.28–29. 47 Elsewhere a relatively simple exchange between the respondent (Mary Magdalene) and Jesus shapes the response (20.16b, 18), though the exchange itself is the conclusion of a longer interaction (20.15–17). In one case an exception is made to the rule that subdivisions of verses (“a,” “b,” etc.) correspond to independent clauses (6.19b–c). 48 When more than one respondent (individual or group) comes into play, the picture is often more complicated (not the case in Jn 21.7). Thus three stories (those in Jn 5, 9 and 11) require special consideration. 49 For a given story the key action of each (main) respondent can be identified. 50 In Jn 5, the healed man leaves and reports to the Ioudaioi, meaning here the temple authorities (5.15), and they, in turn, persecute and, then, seek to kill Jesus (5.16, 18). 51 An excursus in Section H, below, is dedicated to consideration of the use of the term Ioudaioi in John. In chapter 11 the majority of the Ioudaioi visiting Mary and who saw the miracle believe (here Ioudaioi means Judeans whose loyalty is with the temple-cult and its authorities) (11.45). Others of them report the deed to the Pharisees (11.46). The chief priests and the Pharisees plot to kill Jesus (11.53). Jn 9.1–10.21 is a special case. The former blind 46 Jesus’ walking on water evokes a response (Jn 6.19b–c), while the disciples’ sudden arrival at their destination (6.21b) does not. Stibbe (1993a: 84) and Keener (2003: 1:673– 675) also see the latter as a miracle (cf. Beasley-Murray 1987: 85). Brown (1966– 1970: 1:252) and Smith (1999: 150) allow for the possibility. However Michaels (2010: 358) rules out a second miracle: “The miracle lay in the crossing itself. How did Jesus get to where he was going?” The miraculous catch of fish (21.6, 11) does not itself cause a response, while Jesus’ appearance does (21.7b–d). 47 Jesus’ rhetorical question (Jn 20.29) describes part of Thomas’ response. (Jesus’ preceding comments [20.27] are also relevant; on, similarly, 9.37 and 38, see below, n. 52). The relation of an early confession of a disciple, Nathanael, and Jesus’ following comment is similar (1.49–50). 48 Jn 6.19a refers to an initial sentence fragment: ἐληλακότες οὖν ὡς σταδίους εἴκοσι πέντε ἢ τριάκοντα. 49 Interactions between numerous parties can result from a miracle: Jn 5.10–18 (the healed man; the temple authorities; and Jesus); 9.8–41[–10.21] (the formerly blind man; his neighbours and those who had seen him previously [and subgroups thereof]; the Pharisees [and subgroups]; the man’s parents; and Jesus); 11.45–53 (the majority of the templeauthority-loyal Judeans visiting Mary; others of them; the chief priests and the Pharisees; and Caiaphas). 50 The respondents ignored here are: the neighbours and those who knew the blind man; and his parents (Jn 9). 51 The reading of B P66 P75 ‫ א‬C L W in Jn 5.16 (i.e. without καὶ ἐζήτουν αὐτὸν ἀποκτεῖναι) is to be preferred.

414

Chapter 5: John

man professes belief in Jesus, doing obeisance before him (9.38). 52 (Though not all manuscripts contain 9.38, it is probably original.) 53 The Pharisees/Ioudaioi have one main action – they expel the man from their presence and by implication the synagogue (9.34; cf. 9.22) – but a noteworthy secondary development, division among them, follows Jesus’ speech (10.19–21). For each of these stories, I define the response as the sum of the respondents’ key actions: 5.15–16, 18; 9.34, 38 (noting 10.19–21); 11.45–46, 53. There are, thus, 12 responses. Still, to complicate matters further, reactions to a miracle can “spill” over into subsequent, even non-contiguous episodes. Here, too, verbal interaction may be a distinguishing feature. So, in Jn 6.22–31 a crowd (not identical to the earlier crowd of 5000 men) interacts with Jesus in connection with a previous miracle (6.1–15). 54 Later actions portrayed as in some way reactions to miracles in previous stories are found also in relation to chapters 5, 9 and 11. 55 In keeping with the present purposes, only reactions within a miracle story (i.e. responses) will be considered in detail.

Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers In the following analysis I do not take special note of which vocabulary comes from the nine relatively short and formal responses. 56 An instance of an element is almost always the main verb of a (dependent or independent) clause or a participial phrase. The two exceptions, also verbs, are substantives. 57

52 Jesus’ words referring to the former blind man’s visual sensation seem also to be relevant (Jn 9.37; cf. 20.27). 53 Though P77, ‫ *א‬and W do not have ὁ δὲ ἔφη... καὶ εἶπεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς (Jn 9.38–39), there is reason to follow “most of our earlier and more significant textual witnesses” (P66 B ‫א‬c A etc.) which do (Michaels 2010: 567–568; cf. Moloney 1998b: 299 – contra Brown (1966– 1970: 1: 375–376) and Barrett (1978: 365). 54 A full-blown discussion of Jesus’ self-designation as the life-giving bread from heaven ensues (Jn 6.32–59). The crowds’ reaction of pursuing Jesus and questioning him should not ultimately be separated from this discussion. 55 Most poignant is Jn 11: see 12.9–11, 17–19. On ch. 5 see 6.2 (also 7.[19–]30–31). On ch. 9 see 10.(38–)39, 41–42. 56 In footnotes I observe when key vocabulary occurs in the broader development leading to the response in the three complex instances (Jn 5.10–18; 9.8–41; 11.45–53). 57 In both cases seeing is the relevant element. Jn 11.45: πολλοὶ οὖν ἐκ τῶν Ἰουδαίων οἱ... θεασάμενοι ἃ ἐποίησεν (only half of the substantive is relevant). 20.29: οἱ μὴ ἰδόντες.

Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers

415

With eight instances, present in seven of 12 responses (6 of 11 stories), the element of seeing is the most common. 58 The verbs used are: ἰδεῖν (Jn 6.14; 20.18; 20.20b; 20.25a; 20.29 [twice]; cf. 1.33, 34; 20.8); θεωρῆσαι (6.19a; cf. 9.8); θεάσασθαι (11.45; cf. 1.32). 59 In direct speech the indicative perfect ἑώρακα (etc.) is used to describe past events – 20.18; 20.25a; 20.29 (first instance; cf. 1.34). 60 In almost all cases the direct object is specified. 61 Occurring six times in five responses (5 stories), the element of belief always employs the verb πιστεῦσαι (Jn 2.11c; 4.53; 9.38; 11.45; 20.29 [twice]; cf. 20.8). 62 Either no complement (4.53; 9.38; 20.29 [twice]; cf. 20.8) or the prepositional phrase εἰς αὐτόν accompanies the verb (2.11c; 11.45). 63 The verbal element appears once in each of five responses (5 stories). 64 The vocabulary used is εἰπεῖν/λέγειν (Jn 6.14; 9.34 [with ἀποκριθῆναι]; 20.16b; 20.28 [with ἀποκριθῆναι]; 21.7a; cf. 10.20–21) and φάναι (9.38). 65 Direct speech occurs in each of the five instances (cf. 9.8–9; 11.47, 49). Reporting occurs once in each of four responses (4 stories): 66 εἰπεῖν (Jn 11.46b; 20.25a); ἀγγεῖλαι (20.18); ἀναγγεῖλαι (5.15) (cf. μαρτυρῆσαι in 1.32, 34). 67 Indirect speech (5.15; 11.46b), direct speech (20.25a; cf. 1.32–34) or both (20.18) are used. 68

58 It is also relevant to a seventh response (Jn 9.8, 37). Note the general association of verbs of seeing with miracles (signs/deeds) is common – σημεῖον is used unless otherwise indicated: Jn 2.23; 4.45 (ὅσα ἐποίησεν), 48; 6.2, 14, 26, 30; 7.3 (σοῦ τὰ ἔργα ἃ ποιεῖς); 11.40 (τὴν δόξαν τοῦ θεοῦ); 11.45 (ἃ ἐποίησεν); 15.24 (τὰ ἔργα); cf. 1.50–51; 12.9. 59 While some manuscripts (P45 P66 D) read ἑωρακότες in Jn 11.45, θεασάμενοι (P6 P59 Β ‫ א‬A C S etc.) is preferable. 60 Cf. Jn 9.37; though see, related, τεθέαμαι (Jn 1.32). 61 ὃ ἐποίησεν σημεῖον (Jn 6.14); τὸν Ἰησοῦν περιπατοῦντα ἐπὶ τῆς θαλάσσης καὶ ἐγγὺς τοῦ πλοίου γινόμενον (6.19b); ἃ ἐποίησεν (11.45); τὸν κύριον (20.18); τὸν κύριον (20.20b); τὸν κύριον (20.25a); με (20.29); cf. 1.32, 33. The exception is μακάριοι οἱ μὴ ἰδόντες καὶ πιστεύσαντες (20.29); cf. 1.34; 20.8. 62 Cf. Jn 9.18, 35–36; 11.48 – though see ἄπιστος and πιστός in, related, 20.27. 63 Cf. εἰς αὐτόν (Jn 9.36; 11.48); εἰς τὸν υἱὸν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου (9.35); εἰς τὸν Ἰησοῦν (12.11); a dependant clause (9.18). Painter (1991: 329–332) gives details of use of πιστεῦσαι in Jn (whether absolute or with dative, εἰς, ἐν or ὅτι). 64 Contra Chibici-Revneanu (2013: 718), no indication of speech (“Durcheinanderreden der Jünger”) exists in Jn 6.19. See also the verbal reactions of different groups in 10.20– 21; 12.29 (cf. 9.8–9). Naturally verbal interaction is characteristic, generally, of 5.10–18, 9.8–41[–10.21] and 11.45–53. 65 Twice a redundant quotative frame with ἀποκριθῆναι is used (Jn 9.34; 20.28). 66 Reporting is only implicit in Jn 4.53b. 67 In Jn 5.15 some manuscripts read εἶπεν (‫ א‬C L) or ἀπήγγειλεν (e.g. D K U) for ἀπήγγειλεν (P66 P75 Β A N S etc.). Despite many manuscripts’ ἀπαγγέλλουσα or ἀναγγέλλουσα in 20.18, ἀγγέλλουσα (P66* B ‫ *א‬A) is preferable. 68 Nothing explicitly accompanies the verb in 12.17.

416

Chapter 5: John

In three responses (and twice in one of them) from three stories an element is violent or expressly antagonistic. Twice this pertains to killing Jesus, whether seeking (ἐζήτουν αὐτὸν... ἀποκτεῖναι: Jn 5.18) or plotting (ἐβουλεύσαντο ἵνα ἀποκτείνωσιν αὐτόν: 11.53). 69 Once harassing/persecuting Jesus (ἐδίωκον... τὸν Ἰησοῦν: 5.16) and once driving the formerly blind man out (ἐξέβαλον αὐτὸν ἔξω: 9.34b) are involved. The emotional element appears only twice (2 stories): fear – φοβηθῆναι (Jn 6.19b) – and joy – χαρῆναι (20.20b). Notably, amazement is absent. 70 Compliments do not accompany the predicates. There are three instances (in 3 stories) of movement between locations: ἐλθεῖν (Jn 20.18 [going to the disciples]); 71 ἀπελθεῖν (5.15 [going to the “Jews”]; 11.46 [going to the Pharisees]). The last mentioned instance has an adverbial. 72 Proskynesis happens once (there are no instances of falling per se): προσεκύνησεν αὐτῷ (Jn 9.38; with Jesus as the object). Three actions in two responses (two stories) may be jointly classified as instances of (other types of) bodily motion: turning (στραφῆναι: 20.16b); putting on clothes (τὸν ἐπενδύτην διεζώσατο: 21.7b) and jumping into water (ἔβαλεν ἑαυτὸν εἰς τὴν θάλασσαν: 21.7d). 73 Hearing occurs once (ἀκούσας ὅτι ὁ κύριός ἐστιν: Jn 21.7b). The statement of knowledge or recognition – γνῶναι (4.53a; cf. 1.33a; 20.9), accompanied by an ὅτι clause 74 – solicits extra attention, given the frequency of references to who knows and what is known in miracle stories. 75 Beyond these elements, once a brief explanatory comment is made about Peter being naked (21.7c) – a comment referred to as “other” in the analysis. 76 No particular pattern of distribution of elements appears, when a distinction between miracle stories of epiphanies and others types of miracles is In Jn 11.53 ἐβουλεύσαντο (P45 P66 P75 Β ‫ א‬D W etc.) is preferable to συνεβουλεύσαντο (A S etc.). 70 Though see Jn 9.30. Amazement is characteristically a (potential) reaction, albeit informal, to miracles (5.20; 7.21) or Jesus’ speech/teaching (3.7; 5.28; 7.15). (The exception concerns Jesus’ conversing with a woman [4.27].) On belief in Jn vs. amazement and fear in the Synoptics – noted by some (e.g. Keener 2003: 1: 516) – see Chapter Six, below. For the sake of thoroughness, I note in, related, 20.10 the unique reading of Λ (θαυμάζοντες τὸ γεγονός). 71 This action is also a fulfillment of a specific command (Jn 20.17). 72 Jn 11.46a: πρὸς τοὺς Φαρισαίους. 73 καὶ προέδραμεν ἅψασθαι αὐτοῦ, found in Jn 20.16 in some manuscripts (e.g. ‫א‬c), is a later addition. 74 Jn 4.53a: ὅτι [ἐν] ἐκείνῃ τῇ ὥρᾳ ἐν ᾗ εἶπεν αὐτῷ ὁ Ἰησοῦς· ὁ υἱός σου ζῇ. 75 Cf. Jn 2.9; 5.13; 6.6; 9.12, 20–21, 24–25, 29–31; 11.22, 24, 49; 20.13–14; 21.4, 12; cf. 20.2, 9. 76 Jn 21.7c: ἦν γὰρ γυμνός. 69

Combinations of Elements within Responses

417

made. Still, it is worth noting, in light of the Synoptics, that the emotional element (fear [Jn 6.19b]; joy [20.20b]) occurs only in epiphany stories.

Combinations of Elements within Responses No arresting pattern of combinations appears. Seeing appears alongside verbal (Jn 6.14), belief (11.45; 20.29 [twice]; cf. 20.8), 77 reporting (20.18; 20.25a; cf. 1.32, 34), and emotional (6.19b–c; 20.20b) elements. Belief occurs once (2.11c) on its own. Otherwise belief appears with seeing (11.45; 20.29 [twice]), cognitive (4.53) or verbal and falling elements (9.38). (It should be noted that the collocations of seeing and believing 78 and, to a lesser extent, seeing and witnessing and/or reporting 79 are common in various other contexts throughout John.)

Relative Priority of Elements The discussion to follow considers the relative prominence of the elements, that is their priority, in terms of discourse analysis (see Section F in Chapter Two for a discussion of the relevant linguistic concepts and terminology). A simple sentence count reveals, as mentioned above, considerable variety. However, bracketing the three complex, lengthier instances (in Jn 5, 9, 11), responses are typically one (2.11c; 6.14; 20.20b; 20.25a) to two (4.53; 6.19b– c; 20.28–29) sentences long. The exceptions are instances of: four sentences (21.7); and two non-contiguous sentences (20.16b, 18). 80 For a general indication of priority, it is observed that in these eight relatively shorter responses: all four occurrences of the verbal element are main verbs (6.14; 20.16b; 20.28; 21.7a; cf. 10.20–21), both emotional elements (6.19b; 20.20), but only two of four instances of πιστεῦσαι (2.11c; 4.53b; cf. 20.8c). Others, too, are main verbs – seeing (only one of eight: 6.19a; cf. 20.8b); reporting (one of two: 20.25a); movement (three of three: 5.15a; 11.46a; 20.18); bodily motion (two of three: 21.7b, d); falling (one of one: 9.38b) and cognition (one of one: 4.53a; cf. 20.9).

77

Reference to seeing earlier (Jn 9.37) is also relevant to belief in the response (9.38). See, e.g., Jn 1.50–51; 2.23; 4.48; 6.30, 36, 40; 11.40; 12.9–11; 20.25b; cf. 9.37–38. 79 See, e.g., Jn 3.11, 32; 19.35; cf. 21.24. 80 Other relevant phenomena are as follows: Jn 1.32–34 (6 sentences within embedded speech); 20.8–9 (4 sentences); 21.7b–d (3 sentences). 78

418

Chapter 5: John

Table 1: Relative prominence of elements in responses 21.7

S, S +

,

+ +

Movement

–

+

Emotional

–

–

Violence

–

+

Reporting

S, S

–

S

S

– S

–

Verbal

20.28–29

20.25a

20.20b

20.18

11.53

11.45–46

9.38

9.34

6.19b–c

–

+

–

Belief

6.14

5.18

5.15–16

4.53

2.11c Seeing

Falling

+

Cognition

,

Bodily

Hearing

+

Other

–

Order of Appearance of Elements

419

For a more detailed consideration of priority of elements, I turn to those seven shorter responses with one sentence or contiguous sentences – and most relevant parts of the other responses (Jn 5.15–16; 5.8; 9.34; 9.38; 11.45–46; 11.53; 20.18). 81 Table 1 (see above), using signs defined previously (see, especially, Section F in Chapter Two), indicates priority in this order: (–), (+), ( –), ( ), ( +). 82 The general observation can be made that elements in responses tend to be mainline events. In relative numbers, this is especially true of reporting (3:4), verbal (5:6), emotional (2:2), movement (3:3) and bodily motion elements. Seeing (2:8) and belief (2:6), the most common in absolute numbers, are rarely mainline events. Embedded speech accounts for half the occurrences of seeing. 83 Given that no general pattern of combinations of elements exists, as noted above, understandably only limited patterns can be observed regarding the relative priority of elements. Seeing is always less prominent than one or more of the elements it accompanies: whether as a substantive – πολλοὶ οὖν... οἱ... θεασάμενοι ἐπίστευσαν... τινὲς δὲ... ἀπῆλθον... καὶ εἶπαν... (Jn 11.45–46) – in direct speech – ἔρχεται... ἀγγέλλουσα... ὅτι ἑώρακα... (20.18) – as a post-nuclear participle – ἐχάρησαν οὖν οἱ μαθηταὶ ἰδόντες τὸν κύριον (20.20b) – or as a mainline event – θεωροῦσιν... καὶ ἐφοβήθησαν (6.19b– c). 84 The belief element is more versatile, occurring: as the most prominent event (4.53); as an event equally prominent as others (11.45–46); or as a feature with less prominence, in embedded speech (9.38; 20.29).

Order of Appearance of Elements Despite the difficulty of the nature of the three longer responses (also for Jn 20.16b, 18), the elements of each of the 12 responses are listed in order of

81 The only part of a response not included in the table is Mary’s turning and initial words to Jesus in Jn 20.16. 82 = a mainline event/action; + = a highlighted mainline event; – = an elaboration on a mainline event via a postnuclear participial clause; + = a demoted event/action via a subordinated clause; – = background material; S = embedded speech. Note when prominence is given to an event cluster, the final main verb receives greater prominence (e.g. Jn 4.53). In Jn 11.45a the element of seeing occurs as part of a substantive. I have marked this with –. 83 Four of eight instances, though recall two of these are in Jesus’ speech commenting on Thomas’ response (Jn 20.29). 84 On relative prominence in Jn 6.19, see above, n. 82. Even in 6.14 seeing is demoted within background material.

420

Chapter 5: John

appearance (see Table 2, below). The response containing but one element (2.11c) is not considered in the discussion to follow. Table 2: Order of appearance of elements 85 2.11c

Belief

4.53

Cognition

Belief

5.15–16, 18

Move

Report

6.14

Seeing

Verbal

Violence

…

Violence

6.19b–c

Seeing

Emotion

9.34, 38

Verbal

Violence

…

Verbal

Belief

Falling

11.45–46, 53

Seeing

Belief

Move

Report

…

Violence

20.16b, 18

Bodily

Verbal

…

Move

Report

Seeing

20.20b

Emotion

Seeing

20.25a

Report

Seeing

20.28–29

Verbal

Seeing

Belief

Seeing

Belief

21.7

Verbal

Hearing

Bodily

Other

Bodily

Seeing comes first in half of the responses (3 of 6) in which it appears. 86 There is some tendency (5 of 8 instances; 4 of 6 responses) for it to come first in a distinct pair with another element – verbal (Jn 6.14); emotional (6.19b– c); belief: (11.45; 20.29 [twice]; cf. 20.8) (see, also, reporting: 1.34). 87 The five instances are as follows: ἰδόντες... ἔλεγον (6.14); θεωροῦσιν... καὶ ἐφοβήθησαν (6.19b–c); πολλοὶ... οἱ... θεασάμενοι... ἐπίστευσαν... (11.45) ὅτι ἑώρακάς με πεπίστευκας; (20.29 [first instance]); οἱ μὴ ἰδόντες καὶ πιστεύσαντες (20.29 [second instance]). 88

Variety is the rule for reference to seeing: twice it is a substantive (Jn 11.45; 20.29 [second instance]); once a pre-nuclear aorist participle (6.14); once a 85 Note, “emotion”=emotional; “report”=reporting; “move”=movement between locations; “falling”=falling and related actions (i.e. here proskynesis); “bodily”=other bodily motions. 86 In four responses (Jn 6.14; 19.b–c; 20.20b; 20.25a) we are dealing with a merely binary option. 87 Note Jn 11.45 (seeing; belief) constitutes the response of one character group. See below. Each instance of the pair in 20.29 is found within a question and statement, respectively (a single sentence in each case). 88 Cf. κἀγὼ ἑώρακα καὶ μεμαρτύρηκα (Jn 1.34); εἶδεν καὶ ἐπίστευσεν· (20.8). Also relevant, with hearing, is: ὁ οὖν ὄχλος ὁ ἑστὼς καὶ ἀκούσας ἔλεγεν βροντὴν γεγονέναι, ἄλλοι ἔλεγον· ἄγγελος αὐτῷ λελάληκεν (12.29).

Characters Responding

421

historical present (6.19b); once a perfect indicative (20.29 [first instance]). There is an equally great variety for the verb form and function of the second component in the pair: imperfect (6.14); aorist indicative (6.19c; 11.45); perfect (20.29 [first instance]); substantive (20.29 [second instance]). In four cases the pairing represents an ordered sequence of events. In the exception, the second instance in 20.29, the motif of sight is negated (a non-event). Two of the instances (20.29) occur in direct speech. In the three remaining responses seeing comes last – twice as the sole element in direct speech (20.18; 20.25a); once as an event in a pair of elements (20.20b). 89 In summary, the factors considered suggest that there is a moderate level of formal usage in responses when it comes to visual sensation. Alternatively, in three of four relevant responses belief often comes last in a pair of elements. (Belief never comes first and only once last, absolutely [Jn 4.53]). 90 It may follow after a cognitive element – ἔγνω... καὶ ἐπίστευσεν (4.53) – or seeing (11.45; 20.29 [twice]). The exception is Jn 9.38: ὁ δὲ ἔφη· πιστεύω, κύριε· καὶ προσεκύνησεν αὐτῷ. It is worth noting the ordered collocation of seeing and believing is found elsewhere within the miracle stories and in other contexts, especially with reference to miracles. 91 In both responses with emotion only seeing appears along with it (Jn 6.19b–c; 20.20b), with each possible order represented. In three of five relevant responses (one instance of) the verbal element comes first (9.34, 38; 20.28–29; 21.7). Once it comes last (6.14). 92

Characters Responding In total 13 characters or character groups are respondents in miracle stories. 93 Notably Jesus never responds. Only three are respondents in more than one story, all being character groups: “the disciples” (three stories: Jn 2.11c; 6.19b–c; 20.20b, 25a); the temple authorities (two stories: 5.16, 18; 11.53 89 ἔρχεται Μαριὰμ ἡ Μαγδαληνὴ ἀγγέλλουσα τοῖς μαθηταῖς ὅτι ἑώρακα τὸν κύριον... (Jn 20.18). ἐχάρησαν οὖν οἱ μαθηταὶ ἰδόντες τὸν κύριον (20.20b); ἔλεγον οὖν αὐτῷ οἱ ἄλλοι μαθηταί· ἑωράκαμεν τὸν κύριον (20.25). 90 In one of four relevant responses (Jn 4.53), there are only two elements, making speech about “first” and “last” concern only a binary possibility. 91 In the miracle stories themselves, where reference to seeing precedes believing, see, further, Jn 4.48; 9.37–38; 20.25b. In other contexts see, e.g., 6.30, 36, 40. For the inverse order see 2.23; 11.40 (in a miracle story); cf. 3.36. 92 This is the one case where there is only a binary possibility. 93 Not included in the analysis are: the formerly blind man’s neighbours and acquaintances (9.8–9.9b; incl. subgroups); his parents (9.20–23); a group of Pharisees (9.40 and 10.19–21; incl. subgroups); and Caiaphas (11.49–52).

422

Chapter 5: John

[with the Pharisees]); 94 and the Pharisees (two stories: 9.34 [cf. 10.19–21]; 11.53 [with the chief priests]). One-time respondents are often individual characters: a royal official (4.53; and, secondarily, his household); the formerly incapacitated man (5.15); the formerly blind man (9.38); Mary (20.16b, 18); Thomas (20.28–29); the Beloved Disciple (21.7a); Peter (21.7b–d). The exceptions are: a crowd of 5000 Galilean men (6.14); 95 and two groups of Ioudaioi – Judeans whose loyalty is with the temple-cult and its authorities – who have seen Lazarus’ resurrection, the majority responding with belief (11.45), some responding by colluding with the Pharisees and, by association, the chief priests (11.46). Dividing the characters into two groups, the established followers are respondents in stories of epiphanies (the water to wine is the exception). Nonfollowers and a new follower are respondents in non-epiphanic episodes only. I. Excursus: Use of the Term Ioudaioi The problem of the identity of the Ioudaioi in John is notoriously complex and difficult (Zimmermann 2013a: 71–74). To my mind the greatest challenge is to understand how Jesus is on the one hand positively identified with Ioudaioi (Jn 4.22) and on the other pitted against Ioudaioi, as they are identified with the world (8.23) and the Satan (8.44). The issue cannot, of course, be dealt with thoroughly here. Still a distinction between use of the term Ioudaioi in reference to a specific character group or groups in the narrative and to customs, ethnicity and so forth proves helpful. Concerning characters, the approach adopted here is not to envisage a one-to-one correspondence between the term and a single character group, as many interpreters do. Rather, the term is understood to refer to a number of character groups, including one whose association is greater in terms of frequency and priority, namely the temple authorities.This approach allows for sufficient treatment of the material’s complexity (as demanded by Zimmermann 2013a), while acknowledging the prominence of the correlation between the Ioudaioi and the temple authorities (as per, e.g., Carter 2006: 70; cf. Bennema 2009: 39). The term Ἰουδαῖοι is used first (Jn 1.19) in reference to a character group who sends priests and Levites from Jerusalem to question John the Baptiser about his identity and, by implication, his authority. They are, thus, the temple authorities. 96 The primacy effect guides understanding of the term’s next usage with respect to a character group (2.18–20). The identity is confirmed as the group is characterised by questioning and criticising the authorisation behind Jesus’ challenge to the temple system in a public confrontation on site. Some reasons indicate the character group referred to as the Ioudaioi in chapter 5 is 94

Chief priests are roughly equal to what are probably the temple authorities (Ioudaioi) in ch 5. See below, n. 101. 95 Note the crowd of 5000 Galilean men is the only respondent in its story. 96 This understanding of Ioudaioi does not get modified, as many interpreters claim, by reference to ἀπεσταλμένοι ἦσαν ἐκ τῶν Φαρισαίων (Jn 1.24). Reference to the Pharisees (presentational articulation – cf. Levinsohn [2000: 7]) distinguishes them semantically from the Ioudaioi – note the later addition of οἱ in some manuscripts in Jn 1.24, which makes the two groups identical.

Characters Responding

423

probably identical – for example, the temple setting (5.14); questioning (5.12); and opposition, generally (5.16, 18). 97 The sudden appearance of Ioudaioi, referring to a character group in the Galilee (Jn 6.41–59), poses difficulties. Three interpretive possibilities are: the earlier Ioudaioi character (1.19; 2.18–20; 5.10–18) makes a sudden appearance; through intentional mismatched renaming, the Galilean crowd (cf. 6.22) is characterised as aligned with the earlier Ioudaioi character; in a less reflective way use of the term Ioudaioi is expanded to include (a new character group of) Galileans, thus creating greater ambiguity in subsequent use of the term. The second, or possibly first, option seems best. Cues in the next chapter favour the first option, as Jesus stays in the Galilee, avoiding Judea, for the Ioudaioi seek to kill him (7.1). 98 However the appeal to personal knowledge of Jesus’ parents by the Ioudaioi in Capernaum (6.42) provides strong support for the second option. At any rate, in 7.1–8.59 the Ioudaioi character (7.1, 11, 13, 15, 35 etc.) is clearly distinguished from the festal crowd (7.12, 20, 31–32 etc.), including its Jerusalem contingent (7.25–30). It is to be identified with the chief priests, introduced as such for the first time, and the Pharisees (7.32, 45, 48), now reintroduced. They, as the Ioudaioi in Jn 1, ask the question σὺ τίς εἶ (8.25) and send representatives to do their work (7.32). 99 Unity is found in the joint quest to kill Jesus (7.32). From here on the Pharisees on their own, too, can be referred to as the Ioudaioi, which is what happens in chapters 9 and 10. In chapter 11 the term is used to refer to both the religious authorities (Jn 11.8) and to two factions within a group that is distinguished from the chief priests and Pharisees (11.45–47). The latter group is presumably common Judeans, who may be expected to have some loyalty to the temple and its leadership. Thus here, for the first time, the term is used to refer to two mutually exclusive character groups. And, though practices of the Ioudaioi etc. have been mentioned previously, this is probably the first time that a character group of non-leaders are called Ioudaioi. Large bodies of Judeans are called Ioudaioi again in what follows (e.g. 12.9, 11), though the temple authorities are too (e.g. 18.12). For further discussion of the use of Ioudaioi, especially as the narrative unfolds, see below, Section Q. If a distinction is made between established followers (those who have become followers of Jesus before the episode in question) and other characters, then these two kinds of characters are never respondents in the same stories. And, as with the Synoptic Gospels, respondents in those miracle stories that may be described as epiphanies are established followers (5 stories: Jn 6.19b–c; 20.16b, 18; 20.20b, 25a; 20.28–29; 21.7; cf. 20.8–9) and in the other miracle stories, with one exception (2.11c), other characters, whether those who through the miraculous event have become followers or those whose opinions of Jesus are less favourable. It can also be noted that the only two responses with an emotional 97

It is possible that the character group, however, is to be understood as a larger body of Judeans, loyal to the temple and its authority. By this point in the narrative various references both generic – practices of the Ioudaioi (Jn 2.6, 13; 5.1; cf. 3.1); salvation from the Ioudaioi (4.22) – and specific – an unnamed character (3.25); Jesus (4.9) – have created some lines of incongruity with use of the term for a character group. 98 The articulation of this quest favours the notion, too, that in Jn 5.18 the Ioudaioi are temple authorities. 99 However, whereas the Ioudaioi and the Pharisees were semantically distinct in Jn 1, though their questionings of John were complimentary and, effectively, united, now the Pharisees are subsumed under the term Ioudaioi, along with the chief priests (cf. 3.1).

424

Chapter 5: John

element are in epiphany stories (6.19b–c; 20.20b). (More detailed comparison with the Synoptics will follow later.) Stories with more than one respondent involve what may be described well enough as new followers (9.18; 11.45) and opponents to Jesus (9.34 [though see 10.19–21]; 11.53 – and associates [11.46]); or a character who has failed to follow Jesus (5.15) and opponents (5.16, 18). 100 Opponents are often explicitly labelled, at some point, Ioudaioi. 101

Functional Roles of Respondents An interesting pattern is observed between recipients and hearers. Jesus’ opponents – the temple authorities (Jn 5.16, 18); the Pharisees (9.34; 11.53); and the chief priests (11.53) – are always those who hear about the miracles second-hand. Those who accompany Jesus in his travels – the disciples (6.19b–c; 20.20b, 25a), Mary, Thomas, the Beloved Disciple, Peter – are recipients, with one exception: the disciples, who should probably be understood as observers in Jn 2.11c. 102 Observers are respondents only one other time (the two factions of Judeans who have seen Lazarus’ resurrection; 11.45–46). 103 All other respondents are recipients. 104 These observations confirm a pattern already seen. Epiphany miracle stories are the only ones in which established followers are recipient respondents.

Setting Regarding setting, a general dividing line is to be drawn, given Jesus’ general movement in the gospel, between the five miracle stories situated in the Galilee (cf. Jn 2.11c; 4.53; 6.14; 6.19b–c; 21.7) and the remaining six, situated in and around Jerusalem. But observing this division alone does not seem to elucidate any narrative patterns with respect to responses. 105 Miracles that can be called epiphanies take place in settings removed from public village/urban 100 A story with only one respondent (and his household), not an established follower, is a new follower (Jn 4.53). 101 Jn 5.16, 18; 9.18 (re. 9.34); 11.(45–)46; cf. 11.54 (re. 11.53). 102 This is true, even though they may have benefitted from the miracle of the wine. See below, n. 153. 103 The neighbours of the formerly blind man and those who had seen him previously (Jn 9.8–9.9b) and his parents (9.20–23) are like observers in that, though they did not see the healing, they can confirm that he was formerly blind. 104 The official and his household (Jn 4.53); the formerly incapacitated man (esp. 5.15); the crowd of 5000 men (6.14); and the formerly blind man (9.38). 105 E.g. established followers are respondents in three stories in the Galilee and three in/around Jerusalem.

Focalisation

425

spaces – in a boat on the “sea” (re. 6.19b–c; 21.7) 106; in and around a tomb (re. 20.16b, 18; cf. 20.1–8) – and within secured, presumably domestic, premises in a city (re. 20.20b, 25a; 20.28–29). Other miracles transpire in a variety of locations: public village or urban spaces – at pools in Jerusalem (Jn 5 and 9), at a wedding celebration in Cana (2.1–11) – in a notably large household in Capernaum (4.43–54), 107 in and around a tomb, near Bethany (11.1–53) and on a mountain on the other side of the “sea” of Galilee (6.1–15). The division between public and private settings is instructive. The only miracles which take place in (or knowledge of which remains in) a private setting, are epiphanies, to which, as mentioned already, the respondents are established followers (re. Jn 6.19b–c; 20.16b, 18; 20.20b, 25a; 20.28–29; 21.7). 108 Other types of miracles are/become public. John 2.1–11 may appear an exception. But the setting is public and knowledge of the miracle, though not widely promulgated, is not as limited as in the other stories. 109 If a miracle takes place in/around Jerusalem and knowledge of it gets wide publicity, an antagonistic response is always associated (5.16, 18; 9.34; 11.46, 53). 110

Focalisation The majority of the miracle stories clearly have fixed external focalisation. 111 One story (Jn 4.43–64), perhaps, alternates between having the narrator 106

In Jn 21.1–14 the setting moves to the lake side. Confirmation that the convalescence is a miracle, though, comes from Cana (in an unspecified location). 108 The narrative ends before there is any indication characters within the narrative world other than the established followers have heard about Jesus’ resurrection appearances. NB Two instances of theophany, while not miracle stories per se, break the mould in this regard (Jn 1.32–34; 12.28b–29). 109 Those who know of the miracle, in addition to the disciples, are Jesus’ mother and the servants. Keener (2003: 1:513) notes that, peculiarly, “Jesus’ miracle at Cana does not remain totally private.” 110 Often later in the narrative a greater extent of the miracle’s publicity is revealed (Jn 7.21; 11.37; 12.9–11, 17–19). 111 Jn 2.1–11; 5.1–18; 6.1–15; 9.1–40; 11.1–53; 20.11–18; 20.19–23; 20.24–29. Though indications of Jesus’ thoughts occur (e.g. 6.6, 15) and events are at times seen through his eyes (e.g. 6.5), all too often narratorial comments, whether concerning reasons for other characters’ actions (e.g. 6.2) or other background details (e.g. 6.4, 10b), prohibit sustained focalisation through him. The same is true of Mary Magdalene, who initially seems to be a character-focaliser in one story (20.11–14a – the use of “Jesus” in 20.14b changes everything; cf. 21.4, despite the disciples’ seeing in 21.9). I am unaware of previous studies of character-focalisation regarding the miracle stories of Jn (see Yamasaki’s [2007: 76–106] review of Johannine point-of-view studies). Note, related, the spirit’s landing on Jesus is, 107

426

Chapter 5: John

(4.43–50a, 54) and a character (the official; 4.50b–53) as focaliser. Here the response (4.53) would play an important part in the potential character focalisation. 112 Interestingly, another story would have had fixed internal focalisation, through the disciples (Jn 6.16–21), had it not been for privileged information revealed early on by the narrator, 113 bringing the overall story into fixed external focalisation. This aspect of the story will be revisited in Chapter Six, below. The kind of focalisation plays no part in distinguishing epiphany miracle stories from other miracle stories. 114

Location within a Miracle Story Sometimes the response follows immediately upon the heels of the miracle (Jn 20.16b, 18; 20.20b; 20.28–29; 21.7). These four instances correspond to the four post-resurrection epiphany stories. Once the miracle is narrated within the response (6.19b–c). A considerable amount of material intervenes between three miracles and responses, whether comments about various characters’ awareness of happenings, dialogue and summarising comments (2.9– 2.11b; re. 2.11c), informing of recovery and dialogue on its timing (4.51–52; re. 4.53) or a command to collect remaining bread pieces and the disciples’ compliance (6.12–13; re. 6.14). Related are the culminating statements of responses in the two remaining complex contexts (5.15–16, 18; 9.34, 38). Alternatively, the key actions of the first two characters in one complex response follow a short command by Jesus to set Lazarus free (11.44c; re. 11.45–46, 53). A second response in an epiphany story follows shortly after the final action of the epiphanic character, with one intervening backgrounded comment (20.24; re. 20.25a). (Note once it is as though a response precedes the miracle [11.27]). Responses tend to come toward an episode’s end. I consider first the shorter responses. John 2.11c and 20.28–29 are the final sentence(s) in their stostrictly speaking, not focalised through John the Baptiser (1.32–34), as some argue (e.g. Brant 2011: 48–49). The invitation to see through his eyes is mediated through his words. Thus the narrator firmly remains the focaliser. 112 See below, Section Q. 113 The narrator reveals early on that Jesus will encounter the disciples – καὶ οὔπω ἐληλύθει πρὸς αὐτοὺς ὁ Ἰησοῦς (Jn 6.17c). Contra Chibici-Revneanu (2013: 717) and Salier (2004: 108) the story is not focalised through the disciples. 114 Note Jn 20.1–10 seems, in some sense, focalised through the Beloved Disciple, as perceptual and psychological facets (esp. 20.8) are increasingly present. But the same is true of Peter to some extent (20.6, 9). The response-like feature (20.8–9) plays an important role in this potentially complex focalisation (alternatively, there is a narratorfocaliser).

Connectives Introducing Responses

427

ries. 115 Another response also occupies the final position (20.16b, 18). A response can be the next to final sentence(s), whether as the final mainline events (4.53) 116 or the penultimate mainline event (6.14; 20.25a; cf. 20.8–9). In three cases the response comes towards the middle of the story (6.19b–c [in a story with two miracles]; 20.20b; 21.7). Two of the miracle stories with lengthy, complex responses are followed by an extended discourse of Jesus (5.19–47; 9.41–10.18 [yet note 10.19–21, coming at the end]). The remaining story ends on the high point of one character group’s response (11.53).

Connectives Introducing Responses The analysis here and in Sections N and O utilises aspects of discourse analysis introduced earlier (see Sections M, N and O in Chapter Two). Unlike the Synoptic Gospels and Hellenistic narratives generally, John’s default connective is asyndeton (i.e. no connective). 117 A connection with the foregoing material closer than the default is indicated by καί. Series of sentences conjoined by καί may form an “event cluster.” 118 Development can be marked by δέ. Οὖν marks development (or significant change) and continuity. While it is uncommon in Hellenistic narrative texts, it appears frequently in John. 119 οὖν is used mostly “in two specific contexts... in connection with a return to the storyline” from background material (resumptive use) or “when an inferential (logical) relation with the preceding event is to the fore.” 120 Six of the nine responses that are easily defined are introduced with οὖν (Jn 4.53; 6.14; 6.19b–c; 20.20b; 20.25a; 21.7). In only two cases does its usage indicate logical inference and development, connecting mainline events (4.53; 20.20), though in three other instances it still marks a development

115 See below, Sections M and N, on the backgrounded event cluster that Jn 2.11c appears in. 116 Again, this response is part of an event cluster; see Sections M and N, below. 117 Buth 1992: 144–145; cf. Levinsohn 2000: 82; Runge 2010: 20–21. Greek parallels for default asyndeton use are in non-narrative texts only. 118 Levinsohn 2000: 84. The connective introducing the event cluster will be asyndeton, δέ or οὖν. 119 On οὖν’s constraints (esp. vis-à-vis other connectives) see Runge (2010: 47); cf. Buth (1992: 156–157). In Hellenistic Greek narrative John’s οὖν has few parallels: Buth (1992: 159–160) cites Gen 26–50 (LXX), Ex 1–24 (LXX) and refers to a non-narrative letter that is illustrative (Edgar and Hunt 1986: 300). Buth (1992: 158–159) explores possible Hebrew and Aramaic influences on John’s idiolect (asyndeton and οὖν). 120 Levinsohn 2000: 85; cf. Buth 1992: 147–148. See below, n. 204, on a background usage of οὖν.

428

Chapter 5: John

(6.19, 20.25a and 21.7). 121 Background information is introduced by οὖν once (6.14). Two responses begin with asyndeton (20.16b, 18; 20.28–29). 122 Once καί connects the response (2.11c) to other sentences in an “event” cluster (2.11a–c). 123 In chapter five, the healed man’s actions in the response (Jn 5.15) are introduced with asyndeton, 124 those of the temple authorities with καί and οὖν (5.16, 18, respectively – both background material). In chapter nine the actions of the Pharisees (asyndeton; 9.34) and the former blind man (articular pronoun with δέ; 9.38) are the concluding statement (plus action) in closed tight-knit conversations. The actions of the majority of Judeans (11.45) and of the chief priests’ and Pharisees’ (11.53) in chapter 11’s response begin with οὖν marking development. The negative actions of some Judeans begin with an articular pronoun and δέ. In summary, a response (or actions of a given character) is just occasionally a development: never with δέ, only οὖν (4.53; 11.14; 11.53; 20.20). 125 In general οὖν frequently and καί rarely (2.11c; 5.16) introduces a response (or, in the three longer responses, a character’s action).

Sub-Unit Divisions Three stories are not sub-divided into smaller units (Jn 6.16–21; 20.11–18; 20.26–29). Four stories contain two paragraphs (2.1–11; 4.46–54; 6.1–15; 20.19–25). One story each consists of three (21.1–14), four (5.1–47), five (11.1–54) or nine (9.1–10.21) paragraphs. Three stories with more than one paragraph have, in addition, a (series of) summary statement(s) (2.11; 4.54; 21.14; cf. 20.30–31). Sub-division often falls along the lines of characters interacting. This is the primary consideration in a number of stories: Jesus, his mother and servants (2.1–8) to head steward and bridegroom (2.9–10); royal official and Jesus (4.46–50) to royal official and slaves (4.51–53); Jesus and disciples (6.1–13) to Jesus and the people (6.14–15); Jesus and disciples regarding Lazarus (11.1–16); Jesus and Martha (11.17–27); Jesus, Mary and Judeans (11.28–37); resurrection of Lazarus (11.38–44); various characters 121 Jn 6.19, 20.25a and 21.7 are instances of a resumptive use of οὖν (cf. Levinsohn 2000: 287). 122 In both stories the response is/involves (a) non-initial speech(s) in a closed, tight-knit conversation. 123 The “event” cluster is actually a cluster of background material. See below, n. 126. 124 In Jn 5.15a asyndeton (P66 P75 B ‫ *א‬C S etc.) is preferable to οὖν (‫א‬c D N etc.), καί (A) and δέ (W). 125 That is to say a second-level development (δέ, with an articular pronoun, operates at a third-level).

Sub-Unit Divisions

429

respond (11.45–53); Jesus and disciples, without Thomas (20.19–23); Thomas and other disciples (20.24–25). In two stories with numerous paragraphs lengthy speech(es) by Jesus also play an important factor in sub-division: Jesus and an incapacitated man (Jn 5.1–9); a man and the Ἰουδαῖοι (5.10–13); Jesus, a man and the Ἰουδαῖοι (5.14–18); speech by Jesus (5.19–47); Jesus and a blind man (9.1–7); a man, neighbours and others (9.8–12); a man and Pharisees (9.13–17); a man’s parents and Pharisees (9.18–23); a healed man and Pharisees (9.24–34); Jesus and the healed man (9.35–38); Jesus’ first speech (including a parable) (9.39– 10.6); Jesus’ second speech (explanation of the parable) (10.7–18); various Pharisees’ reactions to Jesus’ speech (10.19–21). Alternatively, in one story other thematic concerns take more precedence: seven disciples fishing (21.1– 3); great fish catch and response to Jesus’ appearance (21.4–8); preparation and distribution of meal (21.9–13). None of the short responses corresponds to a paragraph (or formal material closing some stories). 126 One longer response (Jn 11.45–46, 53) spans a paragraph (11.45–53). 127 One short response (Jn 4.53) constitutes a development unit, beginning with οὖν. 128 The same is true of the actions of Peter within another response (21.7b–d). The relevant actions of some characters in the three longer responses are event clusters – with δέ: the formerly blind man (9.38); some of the Judeans loyal to the temple authorities who came to Mary (11.46 [a de-

126 As mentioned the first two miracle stories have formal endings – background material that, at the least, numbers the sign performed in the Galilee. They begin similarly and share much wording: ταύτην ἐποίησεν ἀρχὴν τῶν σημείων ὁ Ἰησοῦς... (Jn 2.11a); τοῦτο [δὲ] πάλιν δεύτερον σημεῖον ἐποίησεν ὁ Ἰησοῦς... (4.54). (Cf. Levinsohn on background material introduced with asyndeton and a demonstrative pronoun, presenting “the author’s concluding comment about the preceding events” [2000: 84; cf. 92]. See also 1.28; cf. 21.24. The comments in 6.59, 8.20, 10.6 and 21.14 constitute a break within a story.) The belief (the sole [2.11c] or primary element [4.53b] in the response) is configured differently in relation to the ending: within it (the last of three sentences: 2.11a–c) or preceding it (4.53a–b). 127 The theme of the paragraph is, thus, the responses of witnesses to the miracle and the subsequent fall-out. Note the first part of the response in Jn 5 is an event cluster (5.15a–b: asyndeton... καὶ...) followed by a closely linked background comment (5.16: καὶ...). This is all found within a series of interactions presented as dialogue (5.14[–19]–47). Note, too, that 20.8–9, something akin to a response is: a development unit of three sentences (with a fronted temporal marker), followed by a backgrounded statement with γάρ; and, thus, almost a paragraph, save for the story’s concluding sentence (20.10). 128 One response constitutes the majority of a development unit (Jn 6.19b–c). But the opening material (6.19a) and Jesus’ reply (6.20 – with δέ in third-level usage) are also a part of it.

430

Chapter 5: John

velopment unit]) – with asyndeton: the formerly incapacitated man (5.15); the Pharisees (9.34).

Peak of Story and Relative Prominence of Responses A response comes as the peak in only three miracle stories. In one episode the moment of healing itself is not related; but the recipient’s recognition of the miracle and his and his family’s faith constitute the dramatic culmination (Jn 4.53a–b; cf. 20.8). 129 Regarding Lazarus’ resurrection, the response (11.45– 53), especially the final, negative statement (11.53) is the apex of the story 130 and of the series of conflicts with religious authorities in the first half of the narrative. In yet another story, the response is in fact the climax of the entire narrative (20.28–29). 131 The key moment can come before the response (Jn 2.9–10 [re. 2.11c; an offline comment]) or, more commonly, after it (5.19–47 [re. 5.15–16, 18]; 6.15 [re. 6.14]; 6.21b [re. 6.19b–c]; 132 10.7–18 [re. 9.38]; 133 20.25b [re. 20.20b and 20.25a]; 21.13 [re. 21.7]). 134 In one complicated instance, Jesus’ statements in the middle of a response of non-contiguous sentences (20.17; 129 Added prominence is given to the peak events (Jn 4.53a–b) by use of a full noun phrase in 5.43a (ὁ πατήρ; not serving to disambiguate). On 20.8–9 see below, Section Q. 130 Contra Salier (2004) the peak of Jn 11.1–53 is not the miracle. Though it is related in some detail, prominence is afforded to the event cluster of Jesus’ efficacious prayer and command (11.41b–11.43; note the tail-head linkage in the latter). At any rate Salier incorrectly limits the story’s boundaries to 11.1–44. 131 A redundant quotation frame marks Thomas’ declaration as the key moment in his and Jesus’ interaction. 132 Beasley-Murray (1987: 98) and Köstenberger (2004: 205) think Jn 6.20 (ἐγώ εἰμι) is the peak of the walking on water story; cf. Moloney (1998b: 202), who claims it is 6.19– 20. However, the participant reference in the speech orienter of 6.20 is an articular pronoun – unique in Jn for a speech reacting to something other than a previous speech – and Jesus’ speech is thus “an intermediate step” (Levinsohn 2000: 220). (Still, Moloney is right to sense that 6.19 is highlighted; see below, n. 221). The interrupted imperfect of 6.21a (see above, n. 45) leads to the final, peak sentence. 133 Levinsohn (2000: 85), Bennema (2009: 142) and Frey (2013b: 731) take Jn 9.38 to be the story’s key moment. Like in ch. 5, the story here moves seamlessly from the healed character’s culminating action to confrontation between Jesus and his opponents, with a lengthy speech from Jesus ([9.41–]10.7–18) constituting the peak. (Note 9.39 belongs to the foregoing dialogue.) Unlike ch. 5, this story has a dénouement, a final reaction on the part of Jesus’ interlocutors. 134 Note in resurrection appearance stories, Jesus’ words (Jn 20.17) or actions (21.13), not his initial appearance, are key (though see 20.25b, where Thomas’ words are the peak). Of course, when the peak comes after the response, it is not the miracle; though in one instance it constitutes, in part, a second miracle (6.21).

Belief and Unbelief in Miracle Stories and Other Episodes136F

431

re. 20.16b, 18) are the key moment. 135 The miracle, thus, is never the highpoint. 136

Belief and Unbelief in Miracle Stories and Other Episodes 137 For a number of reasons it is worth examining the distribution of explicit belief language pertaining to characters’ reactions (including responses) to Jesus across miracle stories and other episodes. First, fostering belief through the narration of signs is the text’s explicit intent. Second, belief is a common feature in responses in miracle stories. Third, both plot development and characterisation are thoroughly connected to reactions of belief in a variety of episodes in the same part of the narrative in which the signs appear (Jn 1–12, 20–21). In Table 3 (below) I consider episodes of encounters with Jesus, noting resultant actions or comments that reveal a character’s reaction to Jesus. 138 (Reactions in some lengthier background material is also noted, when belief language is present.) 139 The presence of belief language elsewhere in an episode is not noted, since otherwise the table might become unduly complex. 140

135

On the effect of the copious amount of HPs here, see Section Q, below. Note the unknowing head steward’s statement is the peak in Jn 2.9–10, while the miracle itself is not narrated. 137 As all miracle stories have responses, distribution analysis (see Section P in Chapters Two, Three and Four) is made obsolete. 138 So, e.g., Jn 3.22–36 is excluded, as neither John the Baptiser nor another character has an encounter with Jesus. 139 The two instances are marked by use of parentheses in the “Episode” row. Jn 2.22 is discussed in Section Q. 140 Jesus’ critical comments to his interlocutors using belief language, e.g. “you do not believe,” could be profitably studied (Jn 3.12; 5.38, 46–47; 6.36; 8.45–46; 10.25–26; cf. 4.48 – see, also, positive affirmations: 1.50; 16.27; 20.29). 136

432

Chapter 5: John

Table 3a: Belief language in key reactions and responses (Jn 1–8) Episode

Reaction/ Response

Adequate Belief

1.29–34

1.29–34

yes

John

1.35–42

1.41

yes

Andrew

1.45

yes

1.49

yes

2.1–11

2.11

yes

1.43–51

Belief Term

Character(s)

Philip cf. 1.50

Nathanael disciples

2.12–22

2.18, 20

no

temple authorities

(2.23–25)

2.23

no

those in Jerusalem

3.1–36

3.2, 9

?

Nikodemus

4.28–29, 39

yes

Samaritan woman

4.39–42

yes

Samaritans

(4.43–45)

(4.45)

no

Galileans

4.46–54

(4.50) 4.53

yes

royal official

5.15

no

healed man

5.16, 18

no

temple authorities

6.1–15

6.14

no

5000 men

6.16–21

6.19b–c

?

6.30–31, 34

no

6.41–42, 52

no

4.1–42

5.1–47

6.22–59 6.60–71 7.1–9

7.14–36

7.37–52, 8.12–59

disciples –

crowd in Capernaum temple authorities (?)

6.60, 66

no

many disciples

6.68–69

yes

Peter and the 12

7.3–5

no

Jesus’ brothers

7.20

no

the crowd

7.25–27, 30

no

some Jerusalemites

7.31

?

many from the crowd

7.32, 35–36

no

chief priests, Pharisees

7.40

?

some in the crowd

7.41a

?

others in the crowd

7.41b–42 (44)

no

yet others in the crowd

7.46

?

chief priests’ attendants

7.47–49, 52; 8.13, 19

no

Pharisees

7.50–51 8.22, 25, 48, 52–53, 57, 59

?

Nikodemus

no

chief priests, Pharisees

no

many chief priests, Pharisees

8.30, 33, 39, 41

Belief and Unbelief in Miracle Stories and Other Episodes136F

433

Table 3b: Belief language in key reactions and responses (Jn 9–21) Episode

9.1–10.21 10.22–42 11.1–53

12.1–8

Reaction/ Response

Adequate Belief

Belief Term

Character(s)

9.34 (10.19–21)

no

temple authorities

9.38

yes

formerly blind man

10.41–42

?

many

11.45

?

many Judeans

11.46

no

some Judeans

11.53 12.3

no

chief priests, Pharisees

yes

Mary

12.4–6

no

Judas many from a Judean crowd Pharisees

12.(9, 11) 17–18 12.(9–)12–19

?

12.19

no

12.20–36

12.34

no

12.37–43

12.37–39, 42–43

no

20.1–10

20.8

20.11–18

20.16b, 18

yes yes

20.19–25

20.20b; 20.25a

yes

20.26–29

20.28–29

yes

Thomas

21.7a

yes

Beloved Disciple

21.7b–d

yes

Peter

21.1–14

crowd “they,” incl. chief priests Beloved Disciple Mary Magdalene disciples

434

Chapter 5: John

The table cannot do justice to gradation of belief, other than to note some ambiguous instances (marked with ?). For attention to gradation and for some of my assessments that need argumentation (especially some reactions deemed ambiguous), see Section Q, below. A positive use of belief language is marked with a check mark ( ), negative use with an ex ( ) and indeterminate use with an en-dash (–). Positive use does not necessarily indicate adequate belief, though, as a subsequent comment may undermine the statement (e.g. Jn 2.24–25; 8.30–41). Shading means a miracle story is the context. 141 The present analysis, while agreeing with Bennema’s (2009: 204–205) study in broad strokes, differs in that it considers each episode on its own, not the overall characterisation of given characters. Of the 13 reactions/responses of belief which employ belief terminology positively 11 are not undermined in their immediate context. These instances occur roughly as frequently in miracle stories (positive: Jn 2.11c; 4.53; 9.38; 20.29 – ambiguous: 11.45) as in other episodes (positive: 4.39–42; 6.68– 69 142; 20.8 [cf. 1.50] – ambiguous: 7.31; 10.42; 12.11). Responses of belief in miracle stories are never undermined, regardless of whether belief language is used, though belief reactions elsewhere are at times (with belief language: 2.24–25; 8.30–41; cf. 12.11, 37 – without: 4.44–45 [δέξασθαι]). Though the tabulation of belief reactions/responses cannot be considered exhaustive, 143 it is sufficiently detailed to highlight a significantly disproportionate ratio between use of explicit belief language and belief reactions/responses: per character reacting in a given episode (15:50); or per episode (15:29). Of note is an extended episode with multiple characters reacting (7.37–52, 8.12–59), yet only one explicit affirmation of faith, which is then undermined. Nevertheless, two factors, both qualitative, would suggest a special connection between responses in miracle stories and the use of explicit belief language. The first factor is the primacy effect, for stories about signs. The narrator’s concluding comments (Jn 2.11) in the initial miracle story strongly associates belief, described by πιστεῦσαι, with an ideal, desired response – possibly even an anticipated and/or expected one (cf. 1.14). The primacy effect is strengthened, given the mention of Jesus’ glory having been revealed to some extent in the present sign, by the mention of Jesus’ coming “hour,” in which a greater glory will implicitly yet be revealed. The relation of explicit belief language to response is reinforced in the immediately following miracle story, as well as in the sixth and seventh stories. (The belief of Peter and 141 Note Jn 6.30–69 is still in some important way a continuation of the miracle story in 6.1–15. 142 See Section Q for discussion of this instance of belief, which is closely related to two preceding miracles. 143 Bennema (2009: 204) notes, e.g., Jesus’ mother’s “adequate” “belief-response,” pertaining in part to Jn 2.1–11.

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

435

the rest of the Twelve (6.68–69), though not formally a response, is a related feature, given its relation to the preceding miracle stories [the fourth and fifth]). The second factor comes from the narrator’s comment in 20.30–31, functioning much like a closing statement, which describes the purpose of the narrative. In it, the special relation between signs and the specific term πιστεῦσαι is spelled out: the stories of the signs written in the Gospel are meant to bring about the (deepening of the) faith of the hearers/readers, as they obtain eternal life in Jesus’ name.

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative An analysis of the responses in miracle stories in light of the overall narrative of John follows. Attention will be paid to how the responses contribute to characterisation and plot development, in particular, as well as the relation of the responses to the stated intent of the work (Jn 20.31). I will consider how the distinction between epiphany stories and other miracle stories may relate to each of the aspects of the narrative just mentioned. The prominent theme of belief in Jesus will ever be borne in mind in the analysis and the ways it relates to the narrative, generally, and the responses, in particular, will be explored throughout. I. Prior to first miracle story The prologue (Jn 1.1–18) establishes the view of the protagonist, as yet unnamed, “as the incarnation of the divine logos which was active in creation” (Culpepper 1983: 89). 144 It reveals much else to the hearers/readers, including the reason for the logos’ becoming flesh and blood. Among the questions left unanswered, that of the identity of those who receive/believe in the protagonist is important for my purposes (1.12; cf. 1.7). Who, too, are those who do not receive him (1.11)? 145 The narrative proper begins, following John the Baptiser’s answers about his own identity and prediction concerning the one coming after him (Jn 1.19–28), with Jesus’ encounters with John and five who become his disciples (1.29–51). All of these characters, it is intimated, accept Jesus and believe in him, though the language of belief per se is scarcely utilised (only 144 The prologue to John is important example demonstrating the limitations of the narrative criticism. For the text is laden with meaning that is found in resonances to other texts, both Jewish and non-Jewish. 145 Carter (2006: 35), noting similar questions, notes, “These questions render the rest of the plot necessary as it works out the consequences of these declarations [i.e. the declarations in the prologue].” Cf. Culpepper 1983, 87, 89.

436

Chapter 5: John

1.50). 146 John’s belief in Jesus results from a miracle, the spirit’s descent upon Jesus, 147 though there is no miracle story. John the Baptiser describes the event in direct discourse. The validity of his testimony is not questioned, having been asserted already in the prologue. A pattern of hearing about Jesus, preceding meeting him personally and following him is seen. 148 John and three of the five disciples make statements about Jesus using an honorific title. The peak in this series of encounters is Jesus’ dialogue with Nathaniel. Rather than Nathaniel’s declaration taking centre stage, however, Jesus’ prediction that the disciples will see greater things than his prophetic knowledge (1.50[–51]), opens the way for the rest of the narrative. 149 Notably, other than John, the belief of these early introduced characters is centred on either John’s testimony or Jesus’s own words. The robust anticipation of miraculous events, the result of angelic activity, thus, seems predicated on a prior trust in Jesus. 150 II. John 2.11c The next episode, the first miracle story (Jn 2.1–11), 151 involves various characters’ interaction: Jesus and his mother, Jesus and the servants, the bride146 Bennema (2009: 25, 30, 47–49, 52, 65–68), affirms that John, Andrew, Philipp and Nathaniel’s reactions to Jesus in Jn 1 demonstrate belief. Perhaps Bennema (2009: 54; cf. 48) is right to see some inadequacy signalled by Peter’s comparative lack of “response” in 1.42 (cf. 1.49). The unnamed disciple’s following Jesus, upon John’s confession, though not treated by Bennema, is also indicative of belief. In contrast Culpepper 1983: 116, claims, “The faith of the disciples is at first a faith based on signs (2:11).” The earlier “high confessions” show not faith but merely a “willingness to ‘follow’ Jesus.” Moloney’s (1998: 69) view is further off the mark: after attempting “to contain Jesus within the limitations of their own messianic hopes in 1:35–51” the disciples “come to belief when Jesus manifests his doxa” in ch. 2. 147 The origin of his belief is scarcely mentioned by Bennema (2009, 29) and not at all by Culpepper (1983, 132–133). 148 While Philipp is a kind of outlier to the pattern (so Frey 2011: 29), his presence in the area suggests knowledge of John the Baptiser’s teaching and thus, it seems, an epistemological subordination to his announcement of Jesus as God’s Lamb. Nevertheless, Philipp is not presented as a disciple of John, as are Andreas and the unnamed other. 149 The use of a redundant quotative frame and an anarthrous noun in Jn 1.50 highlights the related speech. Use of the HP in 1.51 makes the additional speech forward-pointing and functions as a segue to the following episode. Note, too, the use of καί to introduce the next episode (2.1). Moloney (1998b: 50) incorrectly suggests that the highpoint of the encounter with Nathaniel is “the first major self-revelation of Jesus in v. 51.” 150 So Koester 2008: 56–57. 151 Garský (2012: 72–73) argues for Jn 2.1–12. But a fronted time reference, with a change of (some) characters, in 2.12 makes a new section. What follows is standard (καί + aorist indicative: 2.12b, 13b – 2.13a is background material).

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

437

groom and the chief steward. The observer respondents, the disciples, are not involved in any of these interactions. In a concluding off-line commentary, after describing Jesus’ first “sign” as a revelation of his glory, the narrator provides the disciples’ response (2.11c): καὶ ἐπίστευσαν εἰς αὐτὸν οἱ μαθηταὶ αὐτοῦ. (Nothing is said of Jesus’ mother or the servants’ potential responses.) 152 The disciples’ response, consisting of the sole element of belief, 153 reinforces their characterisation, established in the foregoing call-todiscipleship episodes. 154 The disciples’ belief, already based on prior encounters with Jesus and his words, finds deepened expression in this miracle response. 155 The first miracle story, thus, sets the stage for a recurring theme: witnessing a miracle can indeed deepen existing faith, but alone it may not be sufficient to generate faith. At the same time, other signs are explicitly anticipated (2.11a), just as the means for understanding them is established already in this initial miracle story. 156 While the revelation of Jesus’ glory is tied to his performance of signs, tension is created by the previous mention of his “hour,” which has not yet arrived. The eschatological implications of the sign performed by the logosbecome-human will be best understood (by the hearer/readers) only later in the narrative. 157 The episode’s key moment is the stewards’ unknowingly symbolic statement about the best wine being reserved “until now” (Jn 2.10). 158 This affirmation, alongside Jesus’ mention of his “hour,” which 152 Similarly Michaels 2010: 154; Petersen 2013: 671. On Jesus’ mother here and at the cross, see below, n. 290. 153 Barrett (1978: 193–194) intuits the disciples’ “seeing” in the use of φανερῶσαι; cf. Salier (2004: 51). This may be correct (see Jn 1.14). Still, sensing Jesus’ glory here may be equally or more through hearing (cf. Michaels 2010: 154, despite 155) – perhaps also in part by tasting. How the disciples learn of the miracle is unknown; so Petersen (2013: 671). 154 Note καί at the episode’s beginning (Jn 2.1), which closely links it to the foregoing episode (Levinsohn 2000: 85), and the forward-pointing HP in the closing line of the latter (1.51), Jesus’ predictive statement. 155 Similarly, Koester 2008: 57; Michaels 2010: 155; Brant 2011: 58–59. For other views (Culpepper; Moloney) see above, n. 146. Somewhere in between is Brown (1966– 1970: 1:105). Note Garský (2012) argues Jesus is “discovered” to be the “real” bridegroom here (cf. Jn 3.29) upon Relektüre, with the disciples being the bride. 156 Welck 1994: 133–134; Salier 2004: 50. Notably, believing, after gaining knowledge of a sign Jesus accomplishes, is central at the narrative’s climax; see below. 157 As Welck (1994: 135–138) observes, various features of the story (e.g. the abundant provision of wine; the better quality) point to the deeper meaning of Jesus’ first sign. They are understood in retrospect, following the crucifixion–and, it should be added, resurrection (cf. Frey 2016: 219, 220, 222)–of Jesus, who offers the eschatological provision of life. 158 In Jn hearers/readers often ironically comprehend a character’s statement’s meaning better than s/he does (Petersen 2013: 670–671). The implications here, to be developed as

438

Chapter 5: John

must be greater than the miracle just performed, creates expectancy, drawing the hearers/readers deeper into the unfolding narrative. 159 If this miracle has brought about the deepening of the disciples’ faith, what sort of faith will be brought about – and for whom – in Jesus’ hour? III. Intervening material These characters are immediately contrasted with the temple authorities, to whom Jesus directs his first public action and address, replete with criticism (Jn 2.12–22). That conflict occurs in Jerusalem between Jesus and those in the temple is not a surprise to the audience, given the less than welcoming treatment of John the Baptiser, Jesus’ endorser, at the hands of Jerusalem leadership (and Pharisees) 160 in the narrative’s opening scene. Still, Jesus is the initiator. A sign is requested from Jesus and he responds by cryptically predicting his resurrection, following their destroying him. The story’s end is similar to that of the foregoing story, the response, though the closing statement here speaks proleptically of the disciples’ faith, perhaps in the future of the story world, 161 following Jesus’ resurrection and their understanding of the sign (2.22). 162 The disciples, in their future understanding of the sign, are then contrasted with others – a group of unspecified “many” – in Jerusalem who believe in Jesus’ name on account of seeing the signs he performed (Jn 2.23–25). Jesus’ first public signs, introduced as though parenthetically, are not detailed and given no literary fanfare. A somewhat enigmatic comment from the narrator indicates Jesus did not entrust himself to these people, because he knew them. The implication of all this – likely a surprise for the audience (Salier 2004: 53) – is: Jesus’ signs are not ultimately to be the focus; and characters can

the narrative unfolds, are at least two: Jesus’ teaching and miraculous activity are better than what has preceded them (cf. Jn 1.14–18); and in his “hour,” to come later in the narrative, will be the best “wine” of all. (Cf. Michaels 2010: 153; Garský 2012: 84, 87–88.) The “key event” of the “event cluster” of 2.9–10 (begins with δέ) is the pronouncement (λέγει, i.e. the second verb), not the calling of the bridegroom (φωνεῖ) (Levinsohn 2000: 87). On further potential implications, especially symbolic, of the abundant wine see Welck (1994: 136) and Petersen (2013: 674–676). A contrast with “the present exploitative world” (Carter 2006: 35, 36) is made stark by the story’s juxtaposition with the following (2.12–22), where Jesus confronts the evil, unjust temple authorities. 159 Similarly, Welck 1994: 135–136; Frey 2016: 219, 221–222. 160 The Pharisees are associated closely with the temple authorities later (e.g. Jn 7–11; cf. 3.1). See above, n. 101. 161 No explicit comment is made about this understanding in Jn 20–21. 162 Thus the disciples are proleptically characterised as those who fully receive him and believe on his name.

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

439

believe in the protagonist and yet have a belief that is inadequate. 163 The question is raised as to who might fit in this third broad category of characters. A named individual is immediately presented for the category (Jn 3.1– 21). 164 Nicodemus, a religious leader, presents himself as one who knows Jesus is a teacher come from God on account of the signs he is doing (3.2). But he cannot receive Jesus’ teaching. 165 This failure gets described by Jesus as a lack of belief (3.12). Jesus spells out in no uncertain terms that those who believe in the Son of Humanity – or, later, in the only begotten Son of God – will have eternal life. That the dialogue between the two characters ends in a lengthy discourse by Jesus and no further events or narratorial comments may well leave hearers/readers wondering what the effect is on Nicodemus’ partial faith. The prospect is not promising. 166 In a discourse of John the Baptiser which closes the following episode (3.22–36) it is reinforced that the one who believes in “the son” has eternal life. The character with whom Jesus next dialogues (Jn 4.1–42) is set in “sharp juxtaposition” to Nicodemus in many ways. 167 The socially disreputable Samaritan woman reacts to her encounter in a decidedly superior way. Much like the disciples, especially Nathaniel, she reacts positively 168 to Jesus’ word, that is his prophetic knowledge, and believes in him, which is evidenced by the fact that she, like John the Baptiser, Andrew and Philip, announces her encounter with Jesus to others. 169 The villagers receive Jesus warmly, inviting him to stay extra days with them. Belief language is used 163 Notably believing “in his name” (cf. Jn 1.12; the phrase occurs rarely) describes this unsatisfactory belief. Culpepper (1983: 90): “The problem is posed... [as to] the difference between these believers and the disciples....” 164 So Bennema 2009: 79–80. Similarly Culpepper 1983: 135. 165 So Culpepper 1983: 135. For Bennema (2009: 80) Nicodemus’ failure is primarily not grasping Jesus’ identity. 166 Culpepper (1983: 135), coming to the same conclusion, considers how the “scene culminates,” not how it ends. For Bennema (2009: 80), “...Nicodemus simply fades out of the conversation and disappears into the darkness from which he came....” This language highlights the story’s relation to imagery found in the prologue and elsewhere, but does not note the link between Jesus’ soliloquy-ending here and endings of earlier episodes stating disciples’ belief – whether through narratorial comment (Jn 2.11, 22) or a disciple’s proclamation and Jesus’ affirming reply (1.49–50). 167 Culpepper 1983: 136; cf. Carter 2006: 37; Bennema 2009: 86. 168 Though her initial question (Jn 4.29) would elicit a negative response, the words of the villagers (4.42; cf. 39) indicate that she does in fact come to believe. Bennema (2009: 90–91) offers further considerations of this sort. 169 Bennema (2009: 91, 92) notes the “‘professional’ disciples” are “outclassed” by this character who does “participate in Jesus’ mission,” thereby exemplifying “true discipleship.” He notes the connection with Jn 1.46.

440

Chapter 5: John

expressly in their reaction. They call him “the saviour of the world.” No sign is involved. The segue or rather introduction to Jesus’ encounter with the royal official (Jn 4.43–45 of vv. 43–54), 170 located in the Galilee, presents a complicated picture of those who believed in Jesus on account of seeing the miracles he did in Jerusalem. They receive him (4.45). However, Jesus’ prior comments to the effect that no prophet is without honour except in his home territory (4.44) 171 mitigates the potentially positive portrayal of them. A crowd, emerging from and representative of these masses of Galileans, will appear later. For now, however, their loose association with those in Judea who believed in Jesus on account of miracles (2.23–25; 3.2) is established. 172 The dangerous possibility of inadequate belief is thereby revisited. IV. John 4.53 The relation between seeing miracles and believing is complex in relation to the royal official, who is probably Jewish. 173 It seems the character has only 170 The fronted μετὰ δὲ τὰς δύο ἡμέρας in 4.43 marks a new section (so, too, Michaels 2010: 270; Moloney 1998b: 150). Still δέ indicates the following develops on the foregoing story. (Asyndeton would indicate less of a relation; cf. 5.1; 6.1.) The next foreground sentences (4.45a, 46) are developments within the section. Both employ resumptive οὖν (4.44, 45b give off-line material). A fronted time reference in 4.45a (ὅτε οὖν ἦλθεν) utilises tail-head linkage (cf. 4.43) “to point forward to something important” (cf. Runge 2010: 167) and does not mark a new section. Many incorrectly see a new section at 4.46 (e.g. Dodd 1953: 318; Brown 1966–1970: 1:190; Keener 2003: 1:630; van der Watt 2013b: 681). The sort of inclusio van der Watt speaks of still exists: it is broader ([ἐξ]ἐλθεῖν... εἰς τὴν Γαλιλαίαν; 4.43, 54). 171 Jn 4.44 (cf. γάρ) supports 4.43, by clarifying the attendant circumstances of (not by giving a rationale for) Jesus’ journey (Runge [2010: 53] on γάρ with “states of affair” cites Mk 3.10). He goes to the Galilee, with those about him (the Samaritans and [or] his disciples) knowing he does not expect to be properly received there, just as a prophet does not have honour in his πατρίς. Note very few of the many who came to the Baptiser, including his disciples, initially accepted his testimony enough to follow Jesus – despite his valiant, focused efforts to proclaim the latter’s superiority (Jn 1.19–37; later, some of John’s disciples still had difficulties accepting/understanding his testimony [3.26]). If this is John’s reception in his homeland (he is associated with Judea throughout Jn), than Jesus’ (first open) entrance into the Galilee will not fare any better. (That he is from Nazareth (1.45– 46) is, perhaps, one more stroke against him.) The chastisement in 4.48 (see below) confirms the negative portrayal here. Moloney (1998b: 152) and Michaels (2010: 271–274) offer good, though unconvincing, alternative explanations of the relation of 4.43–44. Reimer (2013a) hedges. 172 Similarly Moloney 1998b: 152; Salier 2004: 55–56. Michaels (2010: 271, 274–275) disagrees: the positive “observation that ‘the Galileans received him’” is followed by “one specific illustration,” (cf. van der Watt 2013b: 681). 173 On the possibility of him being a Gentile, see Bennema (2009: 94, n. 3).

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

441

heard of Jesus’ miracle-working in Judea (Jn 4.47). The crowd’s testimony apparently inspires a “seed” of faith in him. Initially, however, Jesus chastises him, along with his Galilean compatriots, for needing to see miracles in order to believe (4.48). 174 (The “harvest” in Samaria should still be in the hearers’ minds.) It seems Jesus is inviting him to a faith for healing that is beyond needing Jesus’ physical presence, which would enable witnessing a miracle. 175 The man fails the test, simply repeating his plea. 176 When Jesus sends him away with a promise of recovery, however, he places faith in Jesus’ prophetic word (4.50b). His faith is reinforced then by his acquiring knowledge of the miracle – hearing of the recovery before seeing its effects (4.53). 177 Indeed his entire household also believes, the slaves included. This final expression of knowledge and faith (cf. similarly 4.42) 178 – i.e. the response of two elements – is the last mainline event cluster and the episode’s peak: 179 ἔγνω οὖν ὁ πατὴρ ὅτι [ἐν] ἐκείνῃ τῇ ὥρᾳ ἐν ᾗ εἶπεν αὐτῷ ὁ Ἰησοῦς· ὁ υἱός σου ζῇ, καὶ ἐπίστευσεν αὐτὸς καὶ ἡ οἰκία αὐτοῦ ὅλη.

An indication of emotional relief is not given, despite the pathos of the earlier pleas. 180 Nor are words devoted to the act of reporting (an explanation of) the miracle. 181 In clear focus is the development of faith. 174 Similarly, Bennema 2009: 95. Yet it is not a belief “dependent on signs” at stake (cf. also, e.g., Moloney 1998b: 153). Rather a faith dependent on seeing miracles, esp. apart from accepting Jesus’ words, is under consideration. (Even seeing miracles, alongside acceptance of his words, is acceptable; cf. Jn 2.11.) 175 Hearers/readers may understand Jesus’ comment as an invitation (so Michaels 2010: 278), based on the man’s evident “initial faith as a result of the report of the Galileans,” (Moloney 1998b: 155). Cf. Koester 2008: 57. 176 The sense of failure is achieved, literarily, by repetition of vocabulary, alongside considerable reiteration of content: καταβῆναι, ὁ υἱός / τὸ παιδίον, ἀποθανεῖν (Jn 4.47, 49). On the heightened pathos, see Michaels (2010: 278–279). 177 Similarly Koester 2008: 57–58. For possible explanations of πατήρ in Jn 4.53 (esp. vs. βασιλικός [4.49] and ἄνρθωπος [4.50]) see Moloney (1998b: 1:155), Michaels (2010: 282) and Judge (2013: 312). On its discourse-pragmatic effect, see above, n. 129. 178 In both cases further knowledge leads to a deepening of belief (similarly, Moloney 1998b: 154). 179 Bennema’s (2009: 95) observation, albeit overstated, concurs: “The boy’s healing, though significant, is simply a foil for the official’s response to Jesus.” Calling the second statement with πιστεῦσαι (Jn 4.53) “a saving belief” (Bennema 2009: 96–97) at the expense of the first (4.50), though, is untenable. (On his view that “saving” or “adequate” faith does not come in gradations – it is either ‘on’ or ‘off’ – see above, n. 7.) Rather, the growing faith of this character, first articulated as something worthy in 4.50, can be compared to that of the disciples in 1.35–2.11 (see above), which also culminates in a response to a miracle. On similar “stages of faith” for the Samaritans (4.39, 41–42) see Michaels (2010: 280–281). 180 Salier (2004: 71) misses the importance of this point.

442

Chapter 5: John

By this point in the narrative the audience is aware that believing is the correct response to witnessing miracles. However this belief should be a further development of prior belief in Jesus, including where relevant his prophetic word. Such belief may well produce a miracle. Both the Samaritans’ and the official’s household’s faith are superior to those who merely see miracles and believe, such as the various festal crowds of different geographical origins (Jn 2.23–25; 4.44–45). And the official’s faith, based initially on testimony, lies in contrast to that of the Galilean crowd, which, though based on seeing Jesus’ performance of miracles, is inferior and inadequate. The possibility of focalisation through the royal official, toward the end of the story (4.51–53), 182 may aid the hearers/readers to identify with him and his greater kind of faith. This story, explicitly connected to the first miracle, also in Cana, “where he made the water into wine” (Jn 4.46; cf. 4.54), brings an escalation in the power Jesus demonstrates: from the provision of supplies for festivities to the preservation of life. At the same time it points forward to greater things. The three times occurring, (near-)verbatim phrase ὁ υἱός σου (ὁ παῖς αὐτοῦ) ζῇ (4.50, [51,] 53) emphasises the life-giving nature of Jesus’ greater sign here. 183 The earlier reference to Jesus’ coming “hour” invoked in the connection between the stories suggests that a still greater revelation of Jesus’ glory is yet to take place. The prospect that the giving of eternal life may be involved arises already, given the emphasis on life-giving here, also in light of words from both Jesus and John the Baptiser in Jn 3 about the eternal life resulting from belief in “the son (of God).” 184 The anticipation, then, arises of a greater expression of faith on the part of those who will receive such a gift of life in and as a result of Jesus’ hour. The present story is a culmination of the series of stories of encounters with Jesus in the first four chapters, 185 preceding the first instance of stark opposition. Some telling formal features can be observed. The presence or absence of belief-language in the characters’ reactions to Jesus is to be noted, as is the contrast in how the episodes close. Except for the initial encounter between John and Jesus, all episodes with a positive reaction of belief to 181

Thus, despite similar (implicit) content – one person’s belief, through reporting, leads to the faith of many – on this point the story’s connection to the Samaritan woman’s story is not of key concern; contra Moloney (1998b: 155). 182 After the character is spatially separated from Jesus (Jn 4.50c–51), his inner thoughts (alone penetrated in the story; 4.53) confirm the connection of Jesus’ words and the convalescence. This may constitute character-focalisation. 183 So, too, Welck 1994: 144. 184 Similarly Welck 1994: 144. 185 In addition to Salier’s (2004: 46–47) argument for Jn 1.19–4.54 as a section, see below, n. 190, on 1.35–4.54.

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

443

Jesus – in the case of the call-to-discipleship stories, the stories can be viewed also collectively (thus Jn 2.1–11 and 1.35–2.11) – (a) use the term πιστεῦσαι (b) at or towards the end of the episode (c) to describe the reaction of belief (2.11; 4.41–42 [cf. 4.39]; 4.53 [cf. 4.50]; cf. 1.50; 2.22[!]). 186 The one episode in which a reaction of clearly positive belief is absent (3.1–21) does not use the term πιστεῦσαι at the end. In fact the character’s inadequate response is not stated, but must be inferred. Jesus’ speech occupies the end. The sense of culmination is bitter-sweet. 187 On the one hand, regarding positive reactions, a general movement from reactions of insiders only – despite outsiders alone being involved in the miracle – (Jn 2.11) to those of outsiders (4.39, 41–42; 4.53) is evident. The positive impact also progresses, though not evenly, in terms of social spheres – from regular Galileans and Judeans (the disciples) to a socially prominent and politically powerful Galilean and his household, 188 with the disfavoured Samaritans, notably one socially marginalised woman, in between. This movement holds a note of triumph, which can be felt stronger by focusing on the miracle stories and the responses in particular. 189 On the other hand, in terms of Jesus’ open ministry (2.12–4.54), a linear geographical progression of reactions by outsiders is observed: from Judea, through Samaria to Galilee, while the locations’ assumed import is uneven (religious centre, religious wasteland, religiously respectable homeland). What is surprising is the success rate. Jesus is most successful, quantitatively and, arguably, qualitatively (cf. 4.42), where religious attitudes are most ignorant and not even Jewish and he is least successful where the educated Jewish temple authorities reside. In between these two polar extremes is the faith of a few in the Galilee. Notable among those who believe, is the frequent act of sharing news of Jesus’ words or deeds with 186 The pattern seems all the more important to the narrative, since in Jesus’ encounter with the temple authorities – a scene “of great importance for the plot” (Carter 2006: 36) – the antagonists are not given the privilege of having the last word. Rather, a proleptic statement about the disciples’ faith, after Jesus’ resurrection, is placed at the end (Jn 2.22). 187 For Bennema (2009: 98) the story is “a fitting climax to the series of encounters” in Jn 2–4 (similarly, Moloney [1998b: 151, 156–157], though not all his proposed similar “literary shapes of successive narratives” are convincing). Brown (1966–1970: 1:197) finds no “linear progression in the perfection of faith,” and hesitates to affirm geographical progression as meaningful. See further, below, n. 190. 188 This individual may have been despised by those of Jesus’ social standing, however; cf. below, n. 191. 189 Responses in the two miracle stories of the from-Cana-to-Cana journey highlight the strong positive movement. First is the faith of insiders, the disciples – observers of the miracle who are not active in the story. Last is the faith of a socially prominent, one-time suppliant and his subsequently influenced household. The miracles’ natures demonstrate a “progression,” too, from “the simple enhancement of life” to “the rescue of life” (Dodd 1953: 319).

444

Chapter 5: John

others, which is always fruitful (1.45–46, 50; 4.28–29, 39, 41–42, 53). 190 What is noteworthy about the crowds is a tone of sobriety: even belief in / receiving Jesus can be inadequate. Jesus is progressively making an impact – an accumulative impact, usually by only a few at a time, is in mind – albeit not among Jerusalem’s religious elite 191 nor upon the festal crowds as a group. 192 V. John 5.15–16, 18 The following watershed-episode, the healing of the incapacitated man at the pool of Bethesda in Jerusalem (Jn 5.1–3, 5–46), introduces a foreboding aspect in an explicit manner to the conflict between Jesus and the Ioudaioi, i.e. the temple authorities. 193 The story is prolonged, more like the discourse with Nicodemus or the Samaritan woman, and less like the previous two miracle stories. A series of interactions between the man, the authorities and Jesus lead up to what I have designated, heuristically for comparative purposes, the response (5.15–16, 18). The initial absence of a response at the moment of healing is suggestive. 194 The short-comings of the man’s reaction to Jesus soon become clear. 195 The authorities’ negativity toward the healing, given the disregard for the Sabbath, is obvious. 190

Moloney (1998b: 155) correctly notes the correspondence between the faith of Jesus’ mother and the royal official in “the word of Jesus,” which “produces the miracle” that “leads to the faith of others.” Yet, in Jn 2 the servants’ faith in Jesus’ word is also crucial, leading to the faith of others, whereas in ch. 4 the official’s servants do not exhibit faith until they, presumably, hear of Jesus’ words from their master. And the others’ faith in 4.53, including the slaves’, is not on centre-stage (note the singular verb). Generally, Moloney’s over-emphasis on the Cana-to-Cana connection, granting that the only numbered signs open and close the movement, neglects the linkage between 2.1–11 and the successive call-to-discipleship stories. (See above, esp. n. 154.) Though not the peak of the respective story, 2.11 is the culmination of the introduction of the disciples, notably their initial growth in faith (cf. Barrett 1978: 15). 191 Bennema (2009: 98) notes Nicodemus, probably a member of the religious elite, “is outclassed by two despised outsiders: a female Samaritan outcast and a royal official... [i.e.] a Gentile or a Jewish collaborator [with Rome].” 192 Note a further progression: the one emerging from the Judean crowd (Jn 2.23–25; 3.2), Nicodemus, is inferior to the royal official, who emerges from the Galilean crowd (4.44–45, 48). 193 So, e.g., Theobald 2013: 694. See further, above, n. 101. 194 Bennema (2009: 102–103) correctly allows for ambiguity here in the healed man’s portrayal. Generally, the character “is much more complicated and ambiguous than most commentators have observed” (Bennema 2009: 106–107). 195 When asked about his healer’s identity, “the man’s reply is a non-confession and he fails as a witness,” (Bennema 2009: 104; cf. also 107); cf. Culpepper (1983: 138, 139– 140). Cf. Jn 4.28–29; 9.11. On the interrelation of the healings in Jn 5 and 9, which

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

445

Towards the beginning of the next scene 196 comes the first 197 part of the response (Jn 5.15–16): ἀπῆλθεν ὁ ἄνθρωπος καὶ ἀνήγγειλεν τοῖς Ἰουδαίοις ὅτι Ἰησοῦς ἐστιν ὁ ποιήσας αὐτὸν ὑγιῆ. καὶ διὰ τοῦτο ἐδίωκον οἱ Ἰουδαῖοι τὸν Ἰησοῦν, ὅτι ταῦτα ἐποίει ἐν σαββάτῳ.

This is the low point of the healed man’s actions – he acts as a whistle-blower on Jesus (5.15) 198 – and the consequent beginning 199 of Jesus’ opponents’ persecuting him (5.16). 200 Of the formal components – movement away, reporting, express negativity (persecuting) – only one action, reporting, is somewhat familiar to the listeners, albeit not from a miracle story. 201 It is

strengthens the present reading, see below. The temple authorities’ “question ‘Who is this man?’ will echo and reecho through this Gospel in various ways, with multilayered answers,” (Michaels 2010: 296). 196 The fronted temporal phrase μετὰ ταῦτα, use of asyndeton and the likely redundant use of ὁ Ἰησοῦς in Jn 5.14 mark a new temporal-scene in the story (cf. 5.1; 6.1) – similarly, Michaels (2010: 286, 297; though see 305). Thus there are two scenes, the last being 5.14– 47 (contra e.g. Brown 1966–1970: 1:213; Moloney 1998b: 165 [also 169, 173]; Theobald 2013: 691). (Changes of spatial location and dialogue participants are of less relevance here. Note Jesus’ arrival in 5.17, before interacting with the temple authorities, is not articulated.) See also below, n. 197. 197 The three sentences of Jn 5.15–16 begin with asyndeton and are linked by καί and thus are closely related. Jesus’ reply (Levinsohn 2000: 247) in 5.17 is an intermediate step in the interaction (whether an articular pronoun [P75 ‫ א‬B W] or nominal clause [P66 A D L Θ Ψ] constitutes the participant reference). Furthermore, parallel literary features (διὰ τοῦτο... ὅτι) indicate that 5.16 and 5.18 are to be read as closely connected (cf. Michaels 2010: 302–303). Note in both instances of διὰ τοῦτο another connective is primary (5.16: καί; 5.18: οὖν); cf. Runge (2010: 48–51). 198 Plausibly Jesus’ admonition to stop sinning – Michaels (2013: 342) notes the “belated warning” in Jn 5.14 affects the story like the delayed Sabbath notice (5.9) – is presented “as a reprimand not to continue in unbelief... [but] to understand the true identity of Jesus and to respond adequately” (Bennema 2009: 105). Bennema (2009: 107) rightly notes the negative nature of his response: “The man, seemingly unable to accept Jesus’ reprimand, and perhaps out of spite,” reports on Jesus. Thus, finally, he “displays the characteristic of a traitor, a ‘Judas”; cf. Keener (2003: 1:644). Proponents of a positive portrayal for the man have most difficulty with v. 15 (Bennema 2009: 106). Revealingly Brown (1966– 1970: 1:209: “persistent naïveté”) still concedes, in light of ch. 9’s blind man, that the present healed man’s response is unsatisfactory. On use of ὑγιής in 5.15 and elsewhere (5.6, 9, 11, 14) see Michaels (2013). 199 Here (Jn 5.16) and in the second part of the response (5.18) are ingressive imperfects, thus, not mainline actions. 200 The two parties’ actions are closely associated. See above, n. 197. The causal nature of the connection between the man’s and “the Jews’” actions is implicit (Bennema 2009: 106). 201 Jn 4.28–29, 39, 42; cf. 1.41, 45. Though see also 1.32, 34; 4.52b.

446

Chapter 5: John

used here in an inverted, negative sense. The absence of belief terminology may well be felt. 202 Following a provocative comment by Jesus (Jn 5.17), his opponents, instead of merely persecuting him, 203 begin seeking to kill him. This constitutes the response’s second part (5.18): 204 διὰ τοῦτο οὖν μᾶλλον ἐζήτουν αὐτὸν οἱ Ἰουδαῖοι ἀποκτεῖναι, ὅτι οὐ μόνον ἔλυεν τὸ σάββατον, ἀλλὰ καὶ πατέρα ἴδιον ἔλεγεν τὸν θεὸν ἴσον ἑαυτὸν ποιῶν τῷ θεῷ.

Thus, Jesus’ healing efficacy is contrasted by his opponents’ bent towards harm and death. This desire for death is contrasted even more with the eschatological lifegiving power of Jesus, a topic explicated in the lengthy remainder of the episode – namely in Jesus’ discourse (Jn 5.19–46), constituting the second scene and, thus, the episode’s peak. 205 As the theme of believing in Jesus leading to receiving eternal life is revisited, a list of witnesses testifying to him is provided. 206 One of the witnesses is Jesus’ deeds (5.36), which certainly include his miracles (Salier 2004: 180–181). Jesus indicates that he will do yet “greater deeds” (5.20–23), mentioning resurrection, and that he has not yet completed the deeds commissioned him by his Father (5.36). Moreover Jesus announces, evidently proleptically, that the “hour” is coming and in fact is already present in which the dead will rise (5.25). These factors lead to hearers/readers’ expectation that not only will Jesus likely perform a resurrection in the course of the following narrative but also the unfolding narrative depiction of Jesus’ “hour” may well yet make clear the grounds for the eschatological provision of eternal life. 207 Jesus’ discourse here, as that in the interaction with Nicodemus, brings the story to a close. Yet, unlike the Nicodemus encounter, this episode contains explicit responses, the worst so far in the narrative. 208 Perhaps contrary to expectation, it is not mentioned that this is the third (narrated) miracle. Jesus 202

Similarly, Bennema 2009: 107; Moloney 1998b: 169, 173. See BDAG, definition three. For Michaels (2010: 303) the authorities’ original (i.e. Jn 5.16) “intent was ‘to kill.’” 204 Buth (1992: 149, citing Jn 11.54) discusses οὖν (the primary connective in Jn 5.18) and background material. 205 Jesus’ “longest speech so far” is also his overall “longest interrupted speech to opponents” (Michaels 2010: 306). It “is one of the most exalted in John” (Brown 1966– 1970: 1:216). 206 On the “extended trial motif” in Jn 5–12 see Salier (2004: 77–79). 207 Welck (1994: 153) expresses views similar to mine on both points. 208 Besides the blood-thirsty initiative to kill Jesus is the lacklustre, indifference – or even spite – leading to betrayal, by a recipient of healing “whom even the signs cannot lead to authentic faith,” (Culpepper 1983: 138). No, signs cannot bring him to even an inadequate faith (cf. Jn 2.23–25; 4.44–45). 203

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

447

has revealed his glory again, but now neither the recipient nor others in the vicinity have believed in him. And Jesus was the initiator. 209 It has now been demonstrated that a sign can be ineffective to conjure up even inadequate faith (cf. Jn 2.23–24) by those who experience it, let alone those who observe or hear about it. It seems some initial trust in Jesus is needed in order for a sign to fulfill its objective of fostering faith. At the same time, the extreme negative possibility is exposed: murderous bloodthirst in response to healthrestoring and life-giving power. The hearers/readers may ask themselves how such a contrastive combination may find expression in Jesus’ “hour.” VI. John 6.14 Back in the Galilee, Jesus performs another miracle (Jn 6.1–15). 210 Like the first miracle, this one benefits a number of people. Now, however, the miracle is known to all involved, being an enormously larger number of people. The Galilean crowd is (re-)introduced on an ominous note, not just because large groups’ reactions to Jesus so far have been inadequate, but also owing to the reason for their following him (ὅτι ἐθεώρουν τὰ σημεῖα ἃ ἐποίει ἐπὶ τῶν ἀσθενούντων; 6.2), which associates them closely with the earlier Galilean inadequate belief in / reception of Jesus (4.43–45). 211 The miraculous provision of bread recalls the miracle of manna that transpired under the supervision of Moses. 212 The short formal response (cf. 2.11; 4.53) is a back209 Whereas the royal official approached Jesus and then had to believe his words to experience a miracle, Jesus approaches the incapacitated man and gives him “a sign ‘up front,’ without faith” (Koester 2008: 58). 210 Jn 6.1–11, 6.12–15 and 6.16–21 may be three scenes of one story (6.1–21). Levinsohn (2000: 287; cf. 88–90) argues that use of δέ (not asyndeton) and a fronted temporal point of departure in 6.12 and 16 indicates, “the same storyline is being further developed”; cf. Michaels (2010: 338). The change of setting and characters in 6.16, however, alongside the formal features may indicate 6.16–21 is a new (though closely related) episode. Possibly a fronted time reference such as ὡς δὲ ἐνεπλήσθησαν [6.12] is less definitive than an explicit reference to (an amount/period of) time: ὡς δὲ ὀψία ἐγένετο (6.16). (On fronted time references in narrative generally see Levinsohn [2000: 273–275, 276– 277].) The material is analysed here as two stories, noting a close relation between them. 211 Bennema (2009: 110; also, 2013b) misses this connection – though he notes the connection to 2.23–25 – and speaks of a “new character” that “gets a positive introduction.” Moloney (1998b: 195) sees negative characterisation here. Possibly, the negative contexts in which the collocation of seeing (ἰδεῖν / θεωρῆσαι) and, specifically, σημεῖον have previously appeared (2.23; 4.48; 6.2; cf. 4.45) would further suggest an unsympathetic characterisation (despite 1.14 [θεάσασθαι, δόξα]; cf. 2.11). Salier (2004: 49, 57–58, 82) does not note this possibility. 212 Note the emphasis on the bread over the fish here (Claußen 2013: 707) precedes the explicit link later (Jn 6.31). For a further discussion of this and other stories with parallels in Jewish scriptural tradition, see Chapter Seven, below.

448

Chapter 5: John

grounded comment, consisting of two elements, seeing and a verbal utterance, naming Jesus as “the prophet” (6.14): οἱ οὖν ἄνθρωποι ἰδόντες ὃ ἐποίησεν σημεῖον ἔλεγον ὅτι οὗτός ἐστιν ἀληθῶς ὁ προφήτης ὁ ἐρχόμενος εἰς τὸν κόσμον. 213

Though belief language is absent, the crowds’ utterance bears some similarity to the Samaritans’ words (Jn 4.42) and might thus appear positive (cf. Michaels 2010: 352). Indeed, this is the greatest response yet to a miracle, in terms of: numbers of respondents and publicity; verbalisation of affirmation; 214 and enthusiasm! The next sentence, the story’s end and high point, suddenly dispels any sense of optimism, as it narrates Jesus’ departure alone to a mountain, knowing he would be seized and made king. 215 The story will in effect be resumed after the next episode. For the time being, it is revealed that even a response of enthusiastic, public, verbal affirmation by masses can be wide of the mark. 216 (Jesus’ hour as king, time will tell, has not yet come and it will not occur through physical political overthrow.) The hearers/readers are left to ask: What went wrong? Nothing is said of the disciples’ response, despite their being active characters in the story, including having limited involvement in the provision of the miraculous bread. 217 While they might not have passed the initial “test,” has their faith grown? 218 VII. John 6.19b–c The answer may be provided in the following, closely related 219 episode (Jn 6.16–21), 220 containing two miracles, performed in private for Jesus’

213 I side with Barrett (1978: 277), who argues for ὅ... σημεῖον (majority of MSS) over ἅ... σημεῖα (P75 B), though a decision is difficult. The alternative is best argued by Salier (2004: 82–83). 214 There is only a laconic indication that the belief is verbalised in Jn 4.53 (and none in Jn 2.11). 215 Note the repeated contrast of the crowd’s signs-quest versus Jesus’ retreat in Jn 6.2– 3, 14–15 (Claußen 2013: 706–707). 216 This revelation throws light back on the similar miraculous supply of wine in Jn 2. It may be alright, in the end, that no one else knew of the miracle. An adequate response to a miracle might not be expected from a large group. 217 Contra Hylen (2013a: 217) the disciples as a group do have “sustained action” in Jn 6.1–15, as part of 6.1–21. 218 A hint, but only a hint, may suggest some of them will eventually make the cut: the 12 baskets of leftover bread may presage the soon, related emergence, after a further test, of the Twelve (Jn 6.67); cf. Michaels (2010: 351). But, if so, here they have passed only in part. The initial participation of the most active, Philip and Andrew, was inadequate. 219 See above, n. 210.

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

449

established followers. The first, Jesus’ walking on water, is narrated within the response, which follows a significant build-up of tension focused on a storm’s presence. 221 The tension is not about whether Jesus will come (6.17), but how his arrival will affect the situation. The response has two elements – seeing and the emotion of fear – with emphasis on the last (6.19b–c): 222 ...θεωροῦσιν τὸν Ἰησοῦν περιπατοῦντα ἐπὶ τῆς θαλάσσης καὶ ἐγγὺς τοῦ πλοίου γινόμενον, καὶ ἐφοβήθησαν.

No response is given for the second miracle, the boat’s immediate arrival at the destination, which is the peak and final line of the story (Jn 6.21b). 223 Given that emotions are rare in John – and none have yet occurred in responses to miracles or, more generally, in reactions in encounters with Jesus 224 – it seems the fear here is indicating something unique. The lack of a proclamation about Jesus – common in the earliest episodes, the only ones in which the disciples have been predominant so far – or, especially, a statement of belief – present in the said early episodes and, notably, in the two responses in the first and only miracles stories which have had acceptable responses

220

Chibici-Revneanu (2013: 717) argues for Jn 6.25 being the story’s end. This does an injustice to the discourse signals given at 6.22, i.e. asyndeton and a fronted time reference (see Levinsohn 2000: 88–89 on, similarly, 6.1). And the speech orienter of 6.26 does not indicate a new episode, but the continuation of a dialogue. 221 Following Jn 6.16, the next mainline events are those of the response (6.19a–b). The tension is especially achieved through use of τέ solitarium in 6.18 (rare in Jn; otherwise only in 4.42). τέ solitarium as the connective of the last of three sentences providing background material, the first two of which are introduced by καί (6.17b–18: thus, καὶ... καὶ... τε), causes the clause associated with it (6.18) to be a “specific lead-in to the next development of the storyline” (Levinsohn 2000: 108; cf. 110). It “seems to increase tension... in anticipation of a significant development that will build specifically on the event associated with τέ.” Levinsohn (2000: 110) suggests, therefore, that Jesus’ approach, the presumed next event, is portrayed as motivated by a concern for the disciples’ safety in the storm. More likely is that the disciples’ fear – which is in fact the next “significant event that furthers the author’s purpose” (Levinsohn 2000: 87), being the last in the event cluster of 6.19, introduced by οὖν – is built upon the storm’s presence. Either the storm explains their frayed nerves at the time of Jesus’ appearance, or Jesus’ walking on water in the midst of a storm is an even greater cause for fear than had he been walking on still water. 222 The HP θεωροῦσιν (Jn 6.19a) highlights ἐφοβήθησαν (6.19b). 223 See above, n. 132. 224 Character’s emotions, generally, have been rare: Jesus’ circuitously noted zeal (Jn 2.17); John the Baptiser’s stated joy (3.29); and the disciples’ amazement, the one narrated emotion, at Jesus’ talking with a woman (cf. potential emotions noted in speech: 3.7; 5.20, 28; 35). Emotional reactions in encounters with Jesus come mainly in the final chs.: e.g. fear (19.8; Pilate); joy (20.20; the disciples – a response to a miracle; see below); sadness/grief (21.17; Peter).

450

Chapter 5: John

– would suggest that something about this response is awry. 225 Adding to the negative feeling, the sense of unmet expectations, is the mention of the disciples’ seeing Jesus walk on water. 226 The contrast between the crowds’ verbal affirmation of Jesus, albeit misguided, in the preceding story’s response (Jn 6.14) and the disciples’ general silence 227 here discommends the latter. Still, the unique, extreme response of fear is in some sense in alignment with the more powerful type of miracle, arguably an epiphany, 228 that has transpired. Hearers/readers’ subsequent understanding of Jesus’ ambiguous use of ἐγώ εἰμι – the phrase is later invested with meaning through repeated, specialised use – will compound the sense of reproach for the disciples. 229 But it will also confirm this sign as one which has accompanied one of the most powerful revelations of Jesus’ “true identity” (Salier 2004: 109). Thus the episode moves beyond the “romantic” level in which the sign stories are typically narrated. The level approaches the mythic, as both the

225

That Jesus tells the disciples not to be afraid may further suggest their fear is inappropriate. For the first time the disciples react to Jesus with something other than a positive review, proclamation or belief. Koester (2008: 62) speaks here of “fear, not faith.” (Culpepper [1983: 116–117] sees the first Jesus-disciples conflict at the end of Jn 6. Bennema [2009: 119] notes two earlier “misunderstandings”: 4.32–33; 6.5–9.) 226 I have noted above (n. 211) the possible negative association of “seeing” and “sign,” which would pertain especially to large groups. A positive connotation, however, for the disciples “seeing” Jesus’ glory (Jn 1.14), which may include miracles, greater things, namely angels ascending and descending upon the Son of Humanity (1.50–51) is established early on (σημεῖον does not occur in these instances, though see 2.11 – yet without “seeing”). (E.g. Köstenberger [2004: 205] notes a connection here to 1.14 with respect to sight.) Thus the seeing of Jesus’ miraculous feat (feet) here, without an acceptable response, would come across as jarring. It may signal a correlation between this response and the seeing and verbal response in 6.14, in the preceding story. 227 See above, n. 64. Jesus’ words (Jn 6.20) are portrayed, unusually, as a reply in a conversation (see above, n. 132). This brings further to the fore the disciples’ silence, both before and after Jesus’ words. 228 While the disciples’ fear is likely largely inappropriate (see above, n. 225), it may have an appropriate aspect, given the magnitude of the miracle and similarities with encounters with divine beings in the tradition of epiphany stories, such as Jesus’ statement to not be afraid (Brown 1966–1970: 1:254–256; Culpepper 1983: 91; Moloney 1998b: 202; Keener 2003: 1:673; Salier 2004: 108–109; Michaels 2010: 357; Chibici-Revneanu 2013: 718; Hylen 2013a: 217; cf. Carter 2008: 163–164). Barrett (1978: 279–281) is hesitant on this point. For more detailed discussion of a related Synoptic episode, the stilling of the storm, see Chapter Seven, below. 229 Michaels (2010: 357) rightly notes, “To the reader it [ἐγώ εἰμι] hints at something more...”; the option gains probability “later when Jesus adds to the expression a series of designations telling what his presence means...” (cf. Culpepper 1983: 117; Welck 1994: 169, 170–171; Koester 2008: 62; Chibici-Revneanu 2013: 718).

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

451

commanding voice of Jesus and his presence nearing the boat, striding upon the waves, bring the disciples out of danger. The story’s unsettling ending, as abrupt as the end of the boat ride, 230 foregoes comment on the impression made on the recipients by the second miracle. 231 The ending, thus, leaves listeners with a compounded sense of unmet expectations, arising from this story and the previous, closely associated one. It seems the disciples’ belief in Jesus is not yet perfect, that they have failed to understand and be properly inspired by the two miracles. And Jesus’ words on the water remain unclear to them. This reading will find confirmation in a related dialogue (Jn 6.60–71) and in the next two miracle stories, both using πιστεῦσαι for positive responses (9.38; 11.45). The story, like the preceding miracle story, has a parallel found in traditions of the Exodus. 232 The theme not only ties the stories together, but also is revisited in the immediately following material. This miracle, notably, stays in a private setting. 233 It is the first to be entirely private. The sense of secret revelation is, thereby, increased. The established followers of Jesus have been respondents as recipients of an epiphany of Jesus. Will they be again? And if so, will they finally grasp the greater revelation of Jesus that has been offered them through this sign? VIII. Intervening material The discourse that takes place on the following day in the synagogue of Capernaum (Jn 6.22–59) is clearly related to the feeding of the 5000. The idea of seeing a sign and believing is important here. Jesus’ interlocutors, a combination of those who saw the miracles and a new group coming from Tiberias, demand a sign so that they can see and believe (6.30). Multiplied bread is insufficient. Rather they want bread that descends from heaven, angels’ food, as in the Exodus. Throughout the discourse Jesus progressively describes 230 The disciples do not manage to get Jesus into the boat, before they all reach their destination. See above, n. 45. 231 Beasley-Murray (1987: 85) notes the lack of comment on “the effect of this upon the disciples.” Michaels (2010: 359), though he sees only one miracle, compares the disciples’ silence in Jn 6.21, after Jesus’ miraculous crossing, to Jesus “enemies’” silence “after his long discourse” in ch. 5. On ἤθελον... λαβεῖν αὐτόν (6.19a) see above, n. 45. 232 See further, Chapter Seven, below. 233 Chibici-Revneanu (2013: 718–719) claims the crowd sees the effects of the miraculously quick water-crossing and responds. To be precise, the next morning the crowd is merely uncertain as to the time and cause of Jesus’ relocation to the other side of the lake. They have no certain knowledge of whether a miracle, let alone what type, has taken place. The difference, therefore, between this reaction and the response in Jn 4.51–53 that she cites for comparison is substantial: in the former the whole household believes, including the slaves, presumably after hearing the details of the miracle.

452

Chapter 5: John

himself as the bread that has come down from heaven and that should be eaten. 234 He provides eternal life. Seeing him alone should be cause for belief (6.36, 40). Indeed, Jesus’ opening criticism is indicative of the inverted perspective the narrator presents here. The recipients of the multiplied bread did not look for Jesus because they “saw a sign” or else they would have believed in the one who performed the sign (6.26). This casts serious doubt on their earlier response (6.14). Reference to the provision of eternal life through Jesus again directs hearers/readers, now with greater clarity, to developments to come later in the larger narrative, where the eschaton, Jesus’ hour, will reach its culmination. 235 Jesus seems to reveal that his provision of life will involve his own death (6.51). Tension increases when the crowd is suddenly re-characterised by use of the mis-matched term Ioudaioi (6.41–42, 51), 236 indicating their similarity to the religious leaders of their Judean counterparts. At the same time the crowd moves from merely asking Jesus questions and requests to complaining about him, criticising him and debating about his impenetrable words. Their reaction has fallen to the level of turning on Jesus. 237 Another indication of the negative outcome for Jesus’ interlocutors is that, as in previous episodes, a discourse by Jesus (here not as extended) ends the episode (6.53–58). A subsequent episode is connected (Jn 6.60–71). A large faction of Jesus’ disciples cannot accept his words (6.66). A few of them, led by Peter, confess that they have believed in Jesus, he is the holy one of God and he alone has the words of life (6.68–69). His confession does not attain to the selfrevelation of Jesus in the foregoing dialogue, let alone his words during the miraculous walking on water. Still, Peter and the others have passed the test. And their faith has grown. But will they get another opportunity, privately, to see Jesus’ glory revealed in a powerful sign that is not available to other characters? And will they then understand who Jesus is? Jesus’ knowledge that some of his own disciples do not really believe is stressed in this context (6.64). Again a more opaque picture is presented of a certain kind of belief that is not true belief. (It should be noted that the picture that the larger narrative presents in chapter six is somewhat confusing.) 238 234

See Welck 1994: 160. Especially now, given Jesus’ words following the provision of bread, this sign and the earlier ones can well be seen by the audience as pointing towards the death and resurrection of Jesus, in which the eschatological offer of eternal life finds its essence. Similarly Welck (1994: 160). 236 Alternatively, the temple authorities are added to the conversation, replacing the crowd as Jesus’ interlocutors. On these readings, see the excursus in Section H. 237 Koester 2008: 61. 238 The crowd notices that only Jesus’ disciples (οἱ μαθηταί) got into the one boat (Jn 6.22). Thus, by inference, the number of Jesus’ disciples was more than double the 235

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

453

The transition back to Judea occurs through a confrontation between Jesus and his brothers (Jn 7.1–9). The narrator explains that their insincere comments were based on the fact that they did not believe in him (7.5). In Jesus’ teaching in the temple (7.14–36) the festal crowd, 239 as a whole, responds critically (7.20), despite the recent mention of its polarisation of opinion regarding him (7.12–13). Some Jerusalemites, unsatisfied with Jesus’ reply to their questionings, try to capture him (7.30). Still many from the crowd believe in him, thinking him to be the messiah, on account of the signs that he does (7.31). The connection of signs and faith, accompanied by the crowd’s seeming disregard for Jesus’ teaching about himself, does not speak well for this faith being adequate. The general connection between this crowd and earlier crowds, which had inadequate faith (often in the context of signs and festivals), is also unfavourable. 240 The Pharisees and chief priests, who here join hands for the first time in organised opposition to Jesus, send attendants to capture him. In the next episode (Jn 7.37–52, 8.12–59), 241 also in Jerusalem during the same feast, the crowd has again a split set of reactions to Jesus’ words (7.40– 44). 242 An interesting twist is given in that the guards sent by the Pharisees and the chief priests to seize Jesus fail to carry out their duty on account of Jesus’ speech (7.46). Their boldness in this respect is greater than that of the general festival pilgrims (7.13). The guards are accused of believing in Jesus (7.47–48). Their spiritedness is matched to a certain extent by Nicodemus, though his comments are noncommittal (7.50–51). The narrator is ultimately unsatisfied with Nicodemus’ intervention. The following interactions are between Jesus, the Pharisees and the Ioudaioi, i.e. the chief priests and Pharisees taken together. 243 In the first round (8.12–20) the Pharisees oppose Jesus openly. In the second round (8.21–59) the general opposition of the Pharisees and chief priests is interrupted, surprisingly, by the sudden belief of many of amount of 12 (6.67) prior to many (πολλοί) of them leaving him (6.66). However, it is difficult, if not impossible, to envision 25 to 30 disciples getting into one boat, which holds up to 20 people; cf. Chibici-Revneanu (2013, 719). Use of the term Ioudaioi, too, creates difficulties, as noted above. 239 Bennema’s (2013b) view that the Judean crowd and the Galilean crowd as the same character is not tenable. 240 Jesus’ comment that he did one deed and everyone is amazed (Jn 7.21), looking back to the story of the healing in Jerusalem during a festival in ch. 5, casts further doubt on the quality of the crowds’ faith. 241 The earliest manuscripts (P66 P77 ‫ א‬Avid B Cvid N T W) do not have Jn 7.53–8.11. 242 On account of Jesus’ proclamation on the last day of the feast that those who believe in him will have living water flowing out of them (Jn 7.37–38), some think he is a prophet (7.40), others that he is the messiah (7.41a), still others that he could not be the messiah (7.41b–42). 243 See above, n. 101.

454

Chapter 5: John

them in Jesus, on account of his words (8.30). Their belief is suspect, owing to the characterisation of the group thus far. Jesus’ criticism of them (8.31– 32) – they must remain in his word – confirms the suspicion. The group of would–be believers cannot accept Jesus’ statements about them. Then, the collective group of chief priests and Pharisees chimes in, including those who had just believed in Jesus, calling him a Samaritan who has a demon (8.48). Jesus says that their father is the devil (8.44). The language used between the two interlocutors, thus, attains the sharpest pitch in the gospel. Toward the end of the conflict they pick up stones to stone Jesus on the spot, but he escapes. In summary, while believing in Jesus is a central idea in Jn 7–8, no sure positive reactions of belief are to be found. Division of opinion is rife. Opposition reaches its highest so far. IX. John 9.34, 38 Tension tones down in the closely related, 244 artful 245 and complex 246 story of the healing of the blind man (Jn 9.1–10.21). 247 It contains a lengthy progression of the recipient’s character development and, related, his understanding of who Jesus is, involving the longest and most detailed character’s reaction to a miracle. 248 After following Jesus’ command and thereby procuring healing, 249 the man progresses from describing Jesus as a man (9.11) to a prophet (9.17), one from God (9.32) and, finally, the Son of Humanity (9.[35–]38). 250 His final statement comes from a second encounter with Jesus, following his Jn 9.1 begins with καί and a participle. Jesus leaves the temple and sees the man (Moloney 1998b: 290; Frey 2013b: 727). Variant readings of 8.59 attest to the difficulty some felt from the abrupt transition (Michaels 2010: 537). Frey (2013b: 727–728) discusses connections of setting and theme for Jn 7–10 (note esp. 8.12 and 9.5). 245 The story “is widely recognized as one of the masterpieces of Johannine storytelling” (Moloney 1998b: 290). 246 Frey (2016: 222) sees the story as “the most complex miracle narrative in John.” 247 Jn 10.1–21 finishes the story begun at 9.1 (so Moloney 1998b: 289–291; Carter 2008: 165; cf. Frey 2013b: 727). Some (e.g. Welck 1994: 175–207) incorrectly see the story as contained within the chapter (9.1–41). 248 “The reader may expect a confession from the man after 9:7 but his response is delayed” (Bennema 2009: 137). 249 Obedience brought healing previously (Jn 4.50 – not 5.8–9, contra Moloney [1998b: 292]; Bennema [2009: 137]). 250 Brown 1966–1970: 1:377; Culpepper 1983: 140; cf. Carter 2008: 165. Others see “Lord” as the culmination (e.g. Bennema 2009: 142; Frey 2013b: 731). But κύριος, when finally accompanied by θεός (20.28), will only then take on an exalted sense in a character’s confession. The term ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου has been associated with Jesus’ “death expressed as being ‘lifted up’... [and] Jesus as mediator, the point of contact between heaven and earth (1.51; 3.13)” (Bennema 2009: 143). The latter is more pertinent here (on 1.51 and 9.35, 37, see below). 244

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

455

interaction with various other characters, including notably his decisive speech to the Pharisees (9.30–33). 251 His culminating speech and action, responding affirmatively to Jesus’ question (9.35), constitute the second part of what I am heuristically calling the response (for comparative purposes). In 9.38a–b (not in all manuscripts; see above, Section C) the text reads: ὁ δὲ ἔφη· πιστεύω, κύριε. καὶ προσεκύνησεν αὐτῷ. The three elements are: verbal, belief and prostration. The prostration is a display of reverence, but not worship. 252 His faith is deep. 253 The theme of seeing pertains closely to the response (9:37: ἑώρακας αὐτόν) – as it does to the whole episode. Seeing Jesus is what is important (cf. 1.51). 254 Reporting is, generally, relevant (9.11, 15, 25, 30). The response demonstrates that the man has received, much more than just physical sight, a metaphorical sight consisting of insight into who Jesus is. 255 The man’s developing reaction to the healing is contrasted with that of the Pharisees. They interrogate him and his parents, disbelieve him, mock him and, finally, speak abusively to him and expel him. The final two actions constitute the first part (Jn 9.34) of the episode’s response: ἀπεκρίθησαν καὶ εἶπαν αὐτῷ· ἐν ἁμαρτίαις σὺ ἐγεννήθης ὅλος, καὶ σὺ διδάσκεις ἡμᾶς; καὶ ἐξέβαλον αὐτὸν ἔξω.

Antagonistic physical force is now active, not just potential, as it was in the earlier response of the temple authorities in the related story (5.18). However, here the response does not lean towards extreme violence. Later, in addition, the Pharisees fail to reply adequately to Jesus’ related speech (Jn 9.39– 10.21). 256 While some division exists among them (9.16; 10.19–21), all fail to demonstrate satisfactory belief. 257

251 The man emerges as “one of the most attractive figures in the Gospels” (Brown 1966–1970: 377). He is “the spokesman and surrogate” for Jesus (Michaels 2010: 563). Cf. Reimer 2013b: 430–431, 435–437. 252 Contra Moloney 1998b: 296; Bennema 2009: 142; Michaels 2010: 568; Reimer 2013b: 436; Frey 2013b: 731. See above, n. 250. Still, the implied deeper meaning of proskynesis (and κύριος) here presents itself to the hearers/readers. 253 His belief, uniquely, develops “in a confrontation with the hostile religious authorities” (Bennema 2009: 144). 254 So Koester 2008: 63–64. 255 So, especially, Welck 1994: 187, 188. 256 Possibly a second character group is in mind for the interaction with Jesus (ἐκ τῶν Φαρισαίων; 9.40). 257 Michaels 2010: 551. The contrasted “portraits of increasing insight and hardening blindness” (Brown 1966–1970: 377; cf. Bennema 2009: 143) needs slight modification, owing to the Pharisees’ complicated characterisation.

456

Chapter 5: John

The reactions of the man’s neighbours and acquaintances (Jn 9.8–13) 258 – at worst disbelief as to his identity and possibly collusion with the authorities, at best curious questioning – and even his parents’ (9.20–23) – evasion of questions based on fear of the Ioudaioi (here meaning “Pharisees”) – also pale in comparison to his. The story being connected to the previous healing story in numerous ways, the formerly blind man’s reaction brilliantly outshines that of the formerly incapacitated man (5.15). 259 This is the third of six miracle stories in which a response is decidedly positive. Notably each of these responses employs the verb πιστεῦσαι. The man’s response is neither the end nor peak of the story, nor even of his dialogue with Jesus, whose concluding comments are the catalyst for further interaction between Jesus and the Pharisees. After their brief interjection (Jn 9.40) comes a lengthy discourse by Jesus (9.41–10.5, 10.7–18), broken into two parts (cf. 10.6), which condemns the religious authorities. 260 A schism among the Pharisees (Ioudaioi: 10.19–21) brings the story to a close. 261 A negative view and more positive view of Jesus are offered, though the latter, expressed in a question, still seems insufficient. 262 As in other miracle stories, here too the narrative points forward to Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. In addition to Jesus’ early, foreboding mention of the coming night (Jn 9.4), 263 he openly speaks in his final discourse about willingly laying down his own life on the behalf of others, just as a good shepherd sacrifices his life for his sheep. Yet Jesus’ interlocutors do not understand him (10.6). Although tension has lessened since the recent failure to seize Jesus “because his hour had not yet come” (8.20), hearers/readers should recognise that the hour approaches, looming overhead. They are led to 258

Divided opinion here echoes earlier episodes, where the issue at stake, though, is Jesus’ identity (Jn 7.12, 25–27, 40–43; cf. 9.16; 10.19–21) 259 Culpepper (1983: 139–140), Bennema (2009: 136–144) and Frey (2013b: 727) detail the stories’ affinities. 260 See Dodd 1953: 358–361; Moloney 1998b: 300–301; Carter 2008: 165–166. 261 Thus I find seven scenes, noting especially changes of characters, but also formal features: Jn 9.1–7 (Jesus, disciples and blind man); 9.8–14 (blind man and neighbours and acquaintances – cf. fronted character reference in 9.8); 9.15–23 (Pharisees and blind man and parents – cf. fronted time reference in 9.15); 9.16–34 (Pharisees and blind man again – cf. extended offline comment in 9.22–23 and ἐκ δευτέρου [not fronted] in 9.24); 9.35–39 (Jesus and blind man – cf. tail-head linkage in 9.34b–35a); 9.40–10.18 (Jesus and some Pharisees – cf. tail-head linkage in 9.[39–]40a; note this scene is further subdivided [10.6 concludes the first half; see above, n. 126]); 10.19–21 (within Pharisees – cf. σχίσμα and πάλιν, both fronted). Frey (2013b: 728) gives an alternative delineation of the scenes (of Jn 9.1–41). 262 Contra Moloney 1998b: 306. A related group’s unsatisfactory belief has already been exposed (Jn 8.31–59). 263 See Welck 1994: 187; Frey 2016: 225.

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

457

know that Jesus’ greater life giving – symbolised in the miracle stories, especially the healing and the provision of food – will come at the loss of his own life. Implicitly, Jesus’ inevitable fate will also be ultimately responsible for the relief of the metaphorical blindness plaguing characters in the narrative. 264 The full extent of the expected healing from such blindness will be greater, in number and/or kind. The resultant response, too, will conceivably be an even greater expression of faith than that of the man healed here. X. Intervening material The episode during Hanukkah (Jn 10.22–42) essentially carries on the conversation from the previous story, 265 though the danger level returns to maximal. Jesus repeats an earlier claim – the deeds he performs should cause people to believe in him (10.25–26, 38). His opponents, upon Jesus’ claim to be “one” with his Father, pick up stones to kill him (10.31). 266 In contrast, others, many in fact, come to Jesus, now across the Jordan, and believe in him, their talk of signs likely referring in large part to the recent healing (10.40–42). The power of the association of signs, faith and a crowd, which might cast doubt on the faith’s adequacy, seems mitigated by reference to John’s testimony of Jesus. 267 XI. John 11.45–46, 53 In the complex 268 story of Lazarus’ resurrection (Jn 11.1–53) 269 both the miracles 270 and conflict with the religious authorities reach a peak in the narrative’s first half. Jesus’ proleptic statements make it clear that the miracle will be for God’s glory and that of the Son of God (11.4). The reference “suggests 264 On the connection in this episode between the forgiveness of sins and the healing from metaphorical blindness see Welck (1994: 192–197). 265 Similarly, Carter 2008: 166; Frey 2013b: 727. 266 Upon further dialogue, however, they try merely to grab him (Jn 10.39). 267 Frey (2013b: 727) links the faith of the many to that of the formerly blind man (Jn 9.38). 268 Welck (1994: 208) sees in this story “eine Steigerung” in terms of complexity, in relation to the healing of the blind man. 269 Jn 11.54–57 is a sub-unit based on thematic unity (Jesus’ absence during Passover) – note some extra encoding in 11.54 (fronted ὁ Ἰησοῦς). The miracle story is not, as per Moloney (1998b: 322) and Michaels (2010), 11.1–54. Zimmermann (2013b: 742) has overshot significantly, giving 11.1–12.11. Welck (1994: 208) admits too little material (11.1–46). Note that here, as with the miracle stories in chs. 5 and 9–10, the antagonistic responses of Jesus’ opponents are an integral part of the story. See further, below, on the effect of ending this story with the lengthy negative response. 270 The resurrection is presented as the greatest of the first seven miracles (cf. Jn 11.37); cf. Zimmermann (2013b: 744).

458

Chapter 5: John

that the incident to follow forms an inclusio with [the] first sign [cf. 2.11]” (Salier 2004: 130). The disciples are to believe on account of the miracle (11.15). 271 Their belief must still grow. 272 Martha expresses a heightened sense of awareness of and belief in Jesus (11.27). 273 Thus the clearest exposition of faith, the key reaction, in this momentous story precedes the miracle. 274 Later, however, either her faith waivers or, more likely, Martha demonstrates a misunderstanding of Jesus’ intentions, 275 eliciting his summary statement that her faith is needed in order to see the glory of God (11.40), already related to seeing Jesus’ glory (11.4; cf. 1.14, 51; 2.11). Jesus’ prayer articulates that the miracle’s purpose is that the surrounding crowd will believe that God has sent him. His words, calling Lazarus out of the tomb, receive special emphasis. 276 Following the resurrection’s detailed narration, the lengthy remainder of the story constitutes the response (for comparative purposes), involving three parties (Jn 11.45–53). The first two groups having a part in the response are different factions of Ioudaioi that had come to Mary. Ioudaioi should probably be understood here as common Judeans, who may well be loyal to the temple and its leadership. 277 The two groups’ actions – that of the “many” and “some” – in the response are given briefly, in chronological succession, and have a formal feel (11.45–46; cf. 11.36–37): πολλοὶ οὖν ἐκ τῶν Ἰουδαίων οἱ ἐλθόντες πρὸς τὴν Μαριὰμ καὶ θεασάμενοι ἃ ἐποίησεν ἐπίστευσαν εἰς αὐτόν· τινὲς δὲ ἐξ αὐτῶν ἀπῆλθον πρὸς τοὺς Φαρισαίους καὶ εἶπαν αὐτοῖς ἃ ἐποίησεν Ἰησοῦς.

The first, positive response is belief, accompanied by the element of seeing. Interestingly, nothing is said specifically about the faith of the disciples, Mary or Martha following the miracle, despite earlier intimations of a posi-

271 A relation between the disciples’ experience of Jesus’ (and God’s) δόξα and belief is common to the first miracle story (Jn 2.11) and the culmination of miracles in the book’s first half (11.4, 15, 40); similarly Keener (2003: 1:515); Salier (2004: 130, 140). 272 Similarly, Welck 1994: 212–213. 273 Michaels (2010: 633) notes: “Jesus does not respond to her confession of faith, but simply allows it to stand, as he did the confession of the Samaritan villagers (4:42), and the faith of the man born blind (9:38) [all using πιστεῦσαι].” 274 Previously faith has been demonstrated before miracles occur (note esp. Jn 2.5; 4.50; 9.7), but never to this extent. Martha’s confession (12.27) is what “the evangelist wants the readers to make (20:31)” (Koester 2008: 65). 275 See Koester 2008: 64–65. 276 Use of tail-head linkage in Jn 11.43 (καὶ ταῦτα εἰπὼν...), regarding Jesus’ prayer, gives emphasis to his subsequent, efficacious command. This is obviously a highpoint in the story, but not its peak. 277 See above, n. 101.

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

459

tive result. While it may be assumed that they, too, believe, 278 the absence of comment effectively focuses attention on the Judeans. Given use of the term Ioudaioi, the question is raised as to whether their belief is adequate (cf. Jn 2.23–25). 279 In light of previous responses in miracle stories (2.11c; 4.53b; 9.38), these respondents’ faith seems commendable (see also 11.42). The question may need revisiting, however, later (cf. 12.37–42). The elements of the second group’s response, portrayed negatively, are: movement and reporting. 280 The lengthy series of actions of a third group, the Pharisees and the chief priests, closes the story (Jn 11.47–53). Dialogue is given the most sentences (11.47–50). The theme of belief is explicitly raised with criticism (11.48). By implication the characters speaking do not believe in Jesus. The important net result is their planning to kill Jesus (11.53): ἀπ᾿ ἐκείνης οὖν τῆς ἡμέρας ἐβουλεύσαντο ἵνα ἀποκτείνωσιν αὐτόν. A reaction or response to Jesus of so violent a nature has been seen before, in a miracle story (5.18) and in dialogue-based encounters (8.59; 10.31). But unlike the shorter and lessinvolved precedents, here occurs a long set of deliberations among Jesus’ opponents (11.47–50), including direct speech by a single, named character (11.49–50[–52]), leading up to a peak and final statement of planned violence. 281 The response pulls together in a decisive way the principal characters that have been antagonistic since the narrative’s opening (1.19–28). This miracle story, like those in Jn 5 and 9–10, leads to the antagonistic responses of Jesus’ opponents. The negative responses are an important part of the stories in question. Yet, the concluding part of the story in the earlier two cases, a lengthy speech by Jesus, has now been replaced by lengthy dialogue on the part of the opponents. Jesus does not speak again, following the miracle. Rather, this story’s focus on Jesus’ conflict with his opponents is expressed in the unique ending. The implications are ominous, as is the final, culminating act: the making of concrete plans to kill Jesus.

278 For O’Day (2013: 502) and Michaels (2010: 642) Martha has already believed firmly (Jn 11.27); for Moloney (1998b: 330, 335) and Zimmermann (2013b: 748) at no point does she fully believe. Note disciples’ potential responses have not been related in miracle stories since 2.1–11, save the one instance in which they alone were present (6.19b–c). 279 The miracle brings many to belief (Jn 11.45; cf. 12.11), as did the previous one, eventually (10.42); cf. Salier (2004: 135); Zimmermann (2013b: 745). The quality of the belief is what is open to question. 280 Note ἀπελθεῖν in 11.46 and 5.16 prior to negatively portrayed reporting (cf. Michaels 2013: 345). 281 The “chief priests” come to the fore as the “masterminds,” sealing the project’s success (Bennema 2013a: 383).

460

Chapter 5: John

The story is aptly summarised as “a resurrection that will lead to death.” 282 But his death, in turn, will preserve the lives of many from a greater destruction – a fact that Caiaphas’ prediction ironically, unwittingly underscores through understanding it on a higher, eschatological level. Jesus’ own declaration of being resurrection and life (Jn 11.25) is full of promise that, though fulfilling his mission will cost him his life, he will not ultimately be snuffed out (1.5). Just as the previous miracle story linked the physical to the more important metaphysical gift of sight, so this story, which invokes the earlier one (11.37), indicates that a more profound gift of life exists beyond the mere return of life to a corpse – for even this grand miracle nevertheless entails mortality. 283 Thus, this miracle story, more than the preceding ones, points forward to the final portion of the narrative, the death and resurrection of Jesus. The source of true, eternal life will finally be revealed through these events. The response of faith to be expected will be of a greater quality than that of the Judeans here. XII. Intervening material Following Jesus’ anointing by Mary comes a brief statement that a large crowd of Judeans came in large part to see the Lazarus who have been raised from the dead and on account of him believed in Jesus (Jn 12.9, 11). This is contrasted by the chief priests who want to kill Lazarus because of the development of the situation (12.10). Related, in Jesus’ “triumphal entry” into Jerusalem the crowd with him testifies to their first-hand knowledge of Jesus’ resurrection of Lazarus (12.17). This in turn draws another crowd (12.18). The first and only story of Jesus’ interaction with Gentiles is the context in which a voice miraculously speaks from heaven (Jn 12.20–36). Here again are polarised reactions (12.29). Yet Jesus’ subsequent comments about being “raised up” raises a query by “the crowd” (12.34). The generalising comment by the narrator follows which articulates that they (i.e. the crowd) did not believe in him, despite such signs which he performed in front of them (12.37–41). Nevertheless many of the leaders believed in him, though they would not confess it openly on account of the Pharisees (12.42–43). This mixed positioning vis-à-vis Jesus reminds one of Nicodemus. That the commentary material reflects on all the signs (thus Jn 2–12) gives added weight to the negative assessment of two groups’ reactions. Belief language is used

Moloney (1998b: 322), who notes ἀποθανεῖν (re. Jesus) occurs first in this story and, thereafter, frequently. 283 Welck (1994: 224; emphasis original) notes how, ironically, in Jn 11.37 those expressing faith in Jesus’ ability to heal and ward of death miss the “eschatologische Dimension” of Jesus’ “unbeschränkte Macht.” 282

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

461

in regards to both. This may well cast back doubt on previous statements of belief of large groups (in e.g. 11.45 and even 10.41–42). 284 Once the narrative reaches the much anticipated “hour” of Jesus (Jn 13.1; cf. 12.23) a private meal is the setting for Jesus’ symbolically proleptic stripping of his dignity to serve his disciples. Jesus, as the embodiment of light, also initiates confrontation with the now embodied power of darkness. 285 The following extended discourse and prayer (13.31–17.26) suspends the dramatic tension of Jesus’ imminent conflict with authorities – Jewish and Roman – and execution. The question of the disciples’ understanding and belief in Jesus, however, continues to be raised. Jesus’ faithfulness is affirmed, despite the foretold falling away of all (see esp. 16.30–33). This would seem to extend to the Beloved Disciple also, not just the others, notably Peter (13.37– 38). 286 Jesus’ “I am” sayings and his giving (eternal) life – two themes which have occurred frequently in relation to his miracles 287 – are revisited, though now much more in the context of his ever-approaching death. 288 This is the first and only significant stretch of private teaching to his disciples. In this private setting, Jesus’ words that the one who has seen him has seen the Father (Jn 14.9) may bring to the minds of attentive hearers/readers the disciples’ privileged glimpse of Jesus in the private epiphany on the Sea of Galilee, the one epiphany story narrated thus far. The disciples still do not understand who Jesus is. They will weep, when they cannot see Jesus, and then they will rejoice, when Jesus appears to them again (16.19–22). Will this 284

Similarly, Koester 2008: 65–66. Note the connection between the abstracted σκοτία (Jn 1.5) and, following the Satan’s entering Judas and Judas’ departure from Jesus, the background comment concluding their interaction, ἦν δὲ νύξ (13.30). 286 Competition, only latent perhaps here, between the Beloved Disciple and Peter is introduced at the meal. 287 In Jn 1–12 many instances of “I am” pertain directly to a narrated miracle: Jesus’ walking on water (Jn 6.20: lit. “I am”); feeding of the 5000 men (6.35, 41, 48, 51: “the bread [of life]”); healing of the blind man (8.12; 9.5: “light of the world”); Lazarus’ resurrection (11.25: “the resurrection and the life”). Two others are generally relevant to the healing of the blind man (10.7, 9: “the door”; 10.11, 14: “the good shepherd”). An exception to the pattern is 8.58. The theme of Jesus giving (eternal) life occurs first, after Jn 1, in monologue and dialogue in Jn 3–4 in contexts largely unrelated to miracles. From the second miracle story (4.50–51, 53) on (5.21–29; 6.35–58, 63, 68; 11.24–26; cf. 8.12; 10.10, 28), however, the theme is present largely in connection to miracles (exceptions include 7.38; 12.24–25). 288 The two final “I am” sayings (Jn 14.6: “the way and the truth and the life”; 15.1, 6: “the [true] vine”) occur here. (Yet, see “I am” and a related miracle in 18.5–6 [cf. 18.8]). Jesus’ death is prominent in connection to his “I am” sayings and his giving life at times, earlier, too, (e.g. 11.25, 53). Culpepper (2008: 257) notes there are “surprisingly few references” to eternal life from ch. 13 on. 285

462

Chapter 5: John

appearance be an epiphany? And if so, will the disciples respond in a manner superior to the last time (6.19b–c)? The main plot line, evident in Jn 1–12 in miracle stories and encounters and/or dialogues with Jesus, takes on different skin in 18 and 19. On the one hand, here the hour of the “glorification” of Jesus, through his humiliation, is spelled out in detail. In this context there are virtually no positive expressions of belief in Jesus, even on the part of the characters with whom belief has become most associated. Indeed, only the stances of Peter and Pilate towards Jesus, it seems, lay in the balance. They both fail. The other main characters, 289 too, all have a negative relation to him – all except, in some sense, the Beloved Disciple and Jesus’ mother. 290 This perspective finds basic support in a simple comparison of the relative frequency of the key verb πιστεῦσαι. 291 The one instance in chapters 18–19 pertains to the Beloved Disciple’s testimony (19.35–37), with which the narrator addresses the implied audience, appealing to their own belief in the details in the narrative. On the other hand, the life-giving power of Jesus, which characters have believed in to varying extents at various points in the foregoing narrative, including with respect to the miracles, now finds its full expression. The death of Jesus’ earthly body brings eternal life to others, just as the single seed must die so that many seeds may result (Jn 12.24). The story of Lazarus’ resurrection made the same point: one must die so that others will not be destroyed, but implicitly receive true, eternal life (11.50 [18.14]; cf. 3.14–17). The life-giving aspect found within and in connection with other miracle stories too – notably the healing of the royal official’s son and the provision of bread in the wilderness – now find their greater context. And the foreshadowing of the paradoxical danger to Jesus in such stories of healing, such as the story in Jn 5, finds its culmination here. Jesus’ hour, which he referred to 289

I mean those characters to whom a greater “degree of characterization is given” (Bennema 2009: 14). 290 The Beloved Disciple, like Peter, follows Jesus (Jn 18.15), but unlike Peter does not deny Jesus. He is the one male disciple at the foot of the cross (19.25–27). By implication the others are in hiding. Jesus’ mother, though passive, is also mostly positively portrayed here. Her development from being “a catalyst in his ministry” (Bennema 2009: 68) at a moment of feasting, unaware of Jesus’ timetable, to faithfully being present by Jesus during his crucial and agonising “hour” (on the “hour” and ἀρχή/τέλος connections of Jn 2 and 19 see Coloe [2013: 206–207, 213]), albeit with limited awareness of its significance, makes her slightly more than a “type” (Bennema 2009: 203). Similarly, yet greatly abstracted, is that take of Coloe (2013: 213). Both characters at the cross, nevertheless, fall short, having not opposed the injustice done to Jesus. 291 In Jn 18–19 there is only one instance (19.35). Each chapter in Jn 1–12 has three to nine instances (three [Jn 1]; four [2]; eight [3]; seven [4]; seven [5]; nine [6]; five [7]; five [8]; four [9]; six [10]; nine [11]; nine [12] – cf. one [ch. 13]; seven [14]; zero [15]; four [16]; three [17]; cf. also six [ch. 20]; zero [21]).

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

463

in the first miracle story, has now arrived, and will produce far more than excellent, earthly wine for celebrants to enjoy. The positive expression of various characters’ belief returns as a prominent theme in Jn 20. The climax of the narrative is reached in the chapter. 292 In the first episode (or scene; 20.1–10) Mary Magdalene introduces the problem of the search for the κύριος (20.2), a theme which ties together the chapter’s episodes. 293 The episode reaches its high point when the Beloved Disciple enters the tomb, sees and believes (20.8). 294 On account of this relatively formal constellation of elements, especially πιστεῦσαι, which has been present in every positive response in preceding miracle stories (2.11; 4.53; 9.38; 11.45), 295 the story has somewhat the feel of a Johannine miracle story. 296 The disciples’ mature faith was anticipated at this point in the narrative, after Jesus’ resurrection (2.22). The Beloved Disciple believes Jesus has returned to life, though the Scriptures are not yet understood (20.9; cf. 2.22). 297 XIII. John 20.16b, 18 In contrast 298 lies Mary’s continued search for Jesus’ corpse in what follows (Jn 20.11–18), though her dogged devotion to him is in part sympathetically portrayed, especially as it is rewarded, with Jesus’ first post-resurrection self-

292

Whereas the crucifixion scene (Jn 19.16b–37) has only two instances of the HP (19.26, 28), abundant use of the HP in the empty tomb and resurrection appearance episodes marks the narrative’s climax (Runge 2010: 140–141). 293 Following an extensive hiatus (κύριος occurs previously only in Jn 15.20), chs. 20– 21 see an explosion of use of κύριος (15 instances), which becomes a Leitwort. Every instance, including the ironic usage in 20.15, refers to Jesus. 294 Jn 20.8–9: τότε οὖν εἰσῆλθεν καὶ ὁ ἄλλος μαθητὴς ὁ ἐλθὼν πρῶτος εἰς τὸ μνημεῖον καὶ εἶδεν καὶ ἐπίστευσεν· οὐδέπω γὰρ ᾔδεισαν τὴν γραφὴν ὅτι δεῖ αὐτὸν ἐκ νεκρῶν ἀναστῆναι. The first three sentences have a marked, familiar form. Jn 20.8c (καὶ ἐπίστευσεν) is the peak (cf. Moloney 1998b: 520; Koester 2008: 67), as the third verb in the event cluster, which, in turn, is preceded by numerous HPs. The clarifying comment (20.9 [γάρ]) qualifies the understanding. 295 Moloney (1998b: 520) notes the parallel with characters’ belief in Jn 2.1–4.54, generally. 296 See above, n. 39. 297 My view is similar to Koester’s (2008: 68) and Beck’s (2013: 230). See, with less qualification, Salier (2004: 161) and Resseguie (2013: 545–546). Frey’s (2013a: 726) view is starker – the belief here is in Jesus’ “göttliche Vollmacht und Würde” (“divine authority and grandeur”). Bennema (2009: 172–173) provides options other than resurrection faith. 298 Implicitly Peter does not respond appropriately either (Culpepper 1983: 122; Skinner 2013: 126).

464

Chapter 5: John

revelation. 299 The epiphany occurs in a private setting for an established follower, just as in the epiphany story in chapter six. A negative part of Mary’s portrayal comes out as, at first, even angels’ appearance evokes no response 300 and will not deter her quest to find a dead Jesus, her κύριος (20.13). Jesus’ appearance also, initially, fails to elicit belief or even recognition. 301 Her ironic address of whom she assumes to be the gardener – κύριε (20.15) – heightens the tension, as she inquires further about Jesus’ corpse. Upon hearing him speak her name she responds (20.16b, 18): στραφεῖσα ἐκείνη λέγει αὐτῷ Ἑβραϊστί· ραββουνι, ὃ λέγεται διδάσκαλε. (λέγει αὐτῇ Ἰησοῦς, Μή μου ἅπτου…) ἔρχεται Μαριὰμ ἡ Μαγδαληνὴ ἀγγέλλουσα τοῖς μαθηταῖς ὅτι ἑώρακα τὸν κύριον, καὶ ταῦτα εἶπεν αὐτῇ.

This, the least formal of the short responses, consists of five elements – Jn 20.16b: bodily motion and verbal – 20.18: movement, reporting and seeing. The first part indicates, as in the response of the man born blind, that a metaphorical blindness has been removed from the recipient of the miracle. Mary finally recognises her teacher. The second part demonstrates obedience to Jesus’ command to bring a message to his “brothers,” in which she makes explicit her having seen him. 302 Though the element of belief is not explicitly present, 303 Mary’s obedience and comparison of her actions with earlier characters’ reactions to Jesus are a tell-tale sign that she has “received” the “Light” and become a child of God (1.12). 304 As with the man born blind, talk of her seeing Jesus is tied to her belief (cf. 9.37). And a glory greater than that shown in the early miracle stories has been revealed to her. She has seen her κύριος, crucified and resurrected, now the uncontested possessor of eternal life. Her proclamation of sight finds echoes throughout earlier material. In 299 Moloney’s (1998b: 525) overall criticism of Mary and Clark-Soles’ (2013: 632–640) praise are extreme. Benemma’s (2009: 196–201) view, though inadequately addressing Mary’s implicit unique loyalty, is perhaps best. 300 Though hearers/readers may not specifically “expect Mary to be startled,” as Koester (2008: 69) suggests, he correctly notes there is tellingly “no effect on Mary.” The angels’ presence harkens back to Jn 1.51, indicating God’s work in Jesus, however modified, continues (van der Watt 2013a). 301 So Koester 2008: 69; cf. Moloney 1998b: 525. 302 Bennema (2009: 200) observes: Mary’s message is not Jesus’ resurrection per se, but its significance; and this proclamation is a reversal of her earlier announcement of ignorance, spreading distress. 303 Contrast with the Beloved Disciple’s silent belief may be implied by the lack of belief language in Jn 20.8. 304 Mary is like the Samaritan woman and Jesus’ disciples in Jn 1 (cf. 4.53), who bring a positive report about him to others, and unlike the negative messengers in 5.15 and 11.46. Like the blind man who receives sight, she is obedient, a sent one (cf. also 17.18) and a faithful witness.

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

465

her Jesus’ promise of seeing greater things finds fulfillment (1.50–51); and along with the narrator she has seen the glory of God’s only son (1.14). Her quest has come to its resolution, though Jesus has in fact found her, not the other way around. Despite partial blindness she has received grace upon grace. But has she truly comprehended the depths of the glory she has seen? As her announcement closes the episode, it also points forward. 305 XIV. John 20.20b and 20.25a In the first scene of the next episode (Jn 20.19–25) 306 Jesus appears to the disciples in private. Having entered a locked room, his greeting and showing of his wounds is followed by a brief response consisting of emotional and seeing elements (20.20b): ἐχάρησαν οὖν οἱ μαθηταὶ ἰδόντες τὸν κύριον. The rare emotional element has appeared once before, in another private epiphany miracle story, with the disciples as the respondents (6.19b–c). The disciples’ belief at this moment, as a group, has from the beginning been confidently anticipated (2.22). 307 Now it is clear that this deeper and greater belief in Jesus is in him as the crucified and resurrected one, sent by God. Astute hearers/readers may see this belief, expressed as joy, in contrast to the disciples’ fear in the early private revelation of Jesus’ power. 308 At any rate, their more recent fear (20.19) has conspicuously turned to joy, joy that Jesus predicted. 309 Jesus has appeared to his disciples again (cf. 16.16–22). Their response is positive. They have seen the κύριος – a description of sight that again finds echoes in earlier material, especially at key points in the earliest part of the narrative (1.14; 1.50–51; cf. 9.37). And once again Jesus found them. Appearing to them still bearing the marks of his brutal execution, he demon305 The final verb is an HP (ἔρχεται; Jn 20.18). The episode functions as a whole to point forward, as voluminous HP use indicates (only two mainline events are aorist indicatives: Jn 20.11b, 14a). Jesus’ μή μου ἅπτου, οὔπω γὰρ ἀναβέβηκα πρὸς τὸν πατέρα (20.17) may hint at a further earthly encounter (cf. Bennema 2009: 199). Mary’s words “shape the context in which Jesus will meet the rest of the disciples” as “they have already heard... of his resurrection” and “the words people hear from or about Jesus enable them truly to see who Jesus is (Koester 2008: 55, 70). 306 Note the fronted time references in Jn 20.19 and 26. 307 In responses to miracles the disciples’ faith has not been noted since Jn 2.11 (its absence is most noticeable in 11.45; cf. 11.15), though see 6.69. Their faith is mentioned elsewhere (16.30). 308 Note there they saw Jesus and were afraid (Jn 6.19b–c); here they see him and rejoice. 309 The fear may well indicate disbelief at Mary’s report (Bennema 2009: 120, 123; contra Michaels 2010: 1007). The prediction of post-resurrection joy is clearly relevant (Jn 16.20, 22; cf. 24). Yet some (e.g. Michaels 2010: 1009; Zumstein 2008: 123–124) do not note the asymmetry of progression: grief to joy (16.20, 22); fear to joy (20.19–20).

466

Chapter 5: John

strates that as the crucified Son of God he reveals God’s love to them. 310 Like the snake lifted up in the wilderness brought life to those who saw it, Jesus, still nail-scarred from his being lifted up, is the source of the eternal life which the disciples, gazing upon him, receive. Yet this life has not come simply from seeing Jesus upon the cross. His resurrection is critical. Only in his post-resurrection appearance can his crucifixion be understood. Much of the tension built up in the plot finds its release here. The disciples finally see the glory of Jesus – the logos-become-flesh, sent from the Father – and believe in him. Yet how far does their understanding reach? Do they now know that in seeing Jesus they see the Father? Since their response is short and followed immediately by Jesus’ words of commission and breathing the spirit on the disciples, these questions are left hanging. How much do the hearers/readers still know that the characters do not? The full meaning of Jesus’ being sent to the world, which has been brought out among other places in the metaphorical aspects of the earlier sign stories, cannot immediately become apparent to them in its entirety. Yet one can rest assured that in time the spirit Jesus now breathes into his followers will make all these things clear to them (16.12–15). After Jesus commissions the disciples, Thomas’ introduction opens a second, brief scene. The disciples’ second response is an offline action, interrupted by Thomas’s refusal to believe. The response has two elements, reporting and seeing (Jn 20.25a): ἔλεγον οὖν αὐτῷ οἱ ἄλλοι μαθηταί· ἑωράκαμεν τὸν κύριον. They, like Mary, obey Jesus as sent ones, emphasising, in verbal symmetry, they have seen τὸν κύριον (cf. 20.20b). And like the narrator (1.14), they speak about the glory of the only Son of God, which they have seen. Thomas’ words revisit themes related to miracles, responses in particular: seeing and belief – now also with touch. 311 For the first time a statement of unbelief is found on the lips of a character, 312 one of Jesus’ own 310

So Frey 2012: 254. The sequence of episodes in Jn 20 escalates in two ways with respect to physicality: the manifestation of Jesus’ corporeality increases as does the physical basis for characters’ belief (similarly, Frey 2011: 26). The Beloved Disciple sees the arranged grave clothes and believes; Mary sees Jesus and believes; Thomas avows that he will not believe unless he not only sees but also touches Jesus’ wounds. On whether Thomas touches Jesus, in the end, see below. 312 While the narrator notes characters’ unbelief on occasion (Jn 6.64; 9.18; 12.37, 39; cf. 2.24) and Jesus does commonly (3.12; 4.48; 5.38, 47; 36, 64; 8.45–46; 10.25–26; 16.9), other characters’ speech in the first person, when making statements, has only ever professed belief (4.42; 6.69; 9.38; 11.27; 16.30). (Note two requests with belief language in the first person are indeterminate or suspect [6.30] and promising [9.36].) Only the Pharisees’ disclosure of unbelief once in the third person (7.48) comes close to Thomas’ statement. Moloney (1998b: 537) is incorrect to see Thomas’ statement as “a second stage in his journey of faith,” emphasising its conditionality. οὐ μὴ πιστεύσω may just as well 311

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

467

disciples no less, whom God has given him (17.6–7, 12; cf. 6.70–71), one who even expressed a willingness to die with Jesus. How will Jesus answer this challenge? XV. John 20.28–29 Jesus’ appearance the following week (Jn 20.26–29) proves the Good Shepherd knows his sheep and they follow him. The setting is again private and the respondent is an established follower. Jesus enters the locked meeting room, greets the disciples and invites Thomas to touch his wounds and to believe in his crucified and resurrected, loving friend (cf. 15.13). Thomas’ response, the narrative’s key declaration 313 about Jesus, is also its climax. The conjure up, for alert hearers/readers, the other instance of this conditional phrasing: Jesus’ critical words in 4.48. 313 The reading of Theodore of Mopsuestia [4th–5th c.], brought to my attention by Serge Ruzer, takes Thomas’ exclamation as not an address to Jesus making a pronouncement about him, but an act of utter bewilderment and excitement, invoking God. This reading is worthy of note, owing to its antiquity, though I find it ultimately implausible. The narrative makes it clear that Jesus, not the Father, is addressed by Thomas (ἀπεκρίθη... καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ [Jn 20.28]). I am unaware of any instance in ancient Greek in which speech expressly directed at an interlocutor invokes a god, using the nominative. (The accusative is used, of course, in oaths, such as “by Zeus,” νὴ Δία [e.g. Josephus, Ag. Ap. 1.255, also frequently in the corpus of Galen].) That Theodore was a native Greek speaker might give one reason to pause. Yet mother-tongue speakers can also misread texts. Even if Thomas’ statement were ambiguous – and I do not deem it to be – as to whether Jesus or another character (i.e. “the Father”) were being addressed, the evidence would still be in favour of the former option. The immediate context, Jn 20, presents important evidence. Here the use of κύριος, referring to Jesus, is a Leitwort (see discussion above). The leading theme is the characters’ search for ὁ κύριος. In the three other responses, in particular, in this chapter (20.18; 20.20b; 20.25a) ὁ κύριος appears with Jesus as the referent. Two responses – one from Mary Magdalene (20.18) and one from the disciples (20.25a) – have a verbal element, in which Jesus is referred to as ὁ κύριος. In light of these data, it would be most natural for the referent of ὁ κύριος in the verbal element of Thomas’ response (20.18) to refer, also, to Jesus. Other evidence is pertinent. Structural, thematic and verbal parallelism with stories of encounters between Jesus and his followers in the narrative’s opening scenes (Jn 1) are to be noted. These will be discussed further below. Thomas’ response to Jesus is akin to Nathanael’s reaction (1.49) to him, each of which is the peak in a series of encounters. The speech of Nathanael and Thomas, addressing Jesus and using a doublet (ῥαββί, σὺ εἶ ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ, σὺ βασιλεὺς εἶ τοῦ Ἰσραήλ [1.49]; ὁ κύριός μου καὶ ὁ θεός μου [20.28]), are each followed by a question from Jesus, using similar structure and wording, affirming the respective character’s belief (ὅτι εἶπόν σοι... πιστεύεις; [1.50] ὅτι ἑώρακας με... πιστεύεις; [20.29]). A subsequent statement from Jesus addresses a relation of sight and belief and speaks of the future (in the narrative and of the narrative world respectively). I admit that, given the reading of Thomas’ declaration proposed here, an element of tension in the narrative results, owing to the more common use of θεός throughout Jn to refer to “the Father” (see below, n. 320). However, the tension here is only slightly greater than in the

468

Chapter 5: John

sole element is verbal (20.28): ἀπεκρίθη Θωμᾶς καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ· ὁ κύριός μου καὶ ὁ θεός μου. Thomas does not touch Jesus. 314 Jesus’ reply, interpreting Thomas’ speech, effectively adds two elements to the response, seeing and belief (20.29; cf. 20.27): λέγει αὐτῷ ὁ Ἰησοῦς· ὅτι ἑώρακάς με πεπίστευκας; μακάριοι οἱ μὴ ἰδόντες καὶ πιστεύσαντες. 315 The element of belief, though presented in an innovative manner, is familiar from the first 12 chapters (cf. also 20.8). 316 Thomas’ words are given greater prominence than those of Jesus, on account of a redundant quotative frame and anarthrous proper noun in the case of Thomas. 317 Thomas, like the others before him in chapter 20, has been found by his κύριος. As in responses of Mary (Jn 20.18) and the disciples (20.25), Jesus as the κύριος is mentioned in direct speech. In Thomas’ response, however, Jesus himself is the addressee. Whereas in all three previous responses in the chapter, the element of seeing has related to the term κύριος (20.18; 20.20b; 20.25 – the emphasis is on seeing Jesus), in the present case sight is referred to only in Jesus’ words interpreting Thomas’ speech. The emphasis in Thomas’ response, rather, is on his act of speech and its content. He becomes the one character to recognise Jesus – not only as ὁ κύριος, but also – as ὁ θεός, a key term used of the logos in the prologue (1.1, 18). 318 The still remaining wounds of his executed Lord are a vital element of Jesus’ appearance evoking the response. 319 Thus Thomas’ response expresses a decisive, culminating

text’s opening sentences (1.1), on account of the article ὁ. It should be noted that elsewhere in Johannine literature Jesus is referred to unambiguously as ὁ θεός (1 Jn 5:20: ὁ ἀληθινὸς θεὸς καὶ ζωὴ αἰώνιος). 314 On this issue – which has a significant reception history in art – see Frey (2011). 315 Note Jesus has told Thomas that to see him is to see the Father (Jn 14.7[–9]; cf. Koester 2008: 71). 316 Barrett notes belief as a link between the “sign” in the “first episode of the gospel” and this “the last and supreme sign” (1978: 193–194; see above, n. 153, regarding sight). While Jn 20 is saturated with seeing language (cf. Salier 2004: 162) and belief is often implied, I am concerned with the distinct constellation of terms for sight and belief. Thus, the Beloved Disciple, too, saw and believed (cf. Brown 1966–1970: 2:1005; Barrett 1978: 573; Michaels 2010: 1019; Frey 2011: 26). 317 Note the article, though absent in P66 A B C D W etc., comes with Θωμᾶς in ‫ א‬L N. Jesus’s speech verb, accompanied by a noun and article, is a HP, which points forward to subsequent sentences in the text. On the contrast between the speeches of the two figures, see further, below, n. 322. 318 On the inclusio formed here see, e.g., Keener (2003: 2:1211), Michaels (2010: 1018), Frey (2013a: 817). 319 So Frey 2012: 254.

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

469

belief and the most profound understanding of Jesus by any character. Jesus, while clearly distinct from his Father, is also God. 320 Thomas’ statement, an expression of faith, fulfills the expectations set in the earlier miracle stories. The glory of Jesus revealed in the wine miracle, Jesus’ first sign, has indeed been bested by a sign which inspires a greater belief in Jesus from within his group of disciples. Likewise, Jesus’ appearance after his own resurrection, confirming his being an unstoppable source of eternal life (cf. Jn 1.4–5) and full disclosure of God’s love (cf. 17.26), has inspired a belief greater than that which earlier signs brought about in the Judeans who saw Lazarus rise from the dead, as well as the royal official and the man born blind. The cure for the metaphorical blindness of the last of these characters has been surpassed in the cure afforded Thomas and the other disciples by Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances. Just as Thomas’ words establish the epiphany as a theophany, light is thrown back on previous epiphany stories, not only in chapter 20, but also in chapter 6. The stories of post-resurrection appearances are knit together with the walking on water episode, beyond simply the shared epiphanic element, on account of the private setting, and the respondents being established followers who are recipients of a miracle (unlike in Jn 2, where the disciples, who play no role in the story, are merely observers who respond). This connection helps to draw out the backward-looking relevance of Thomas’ response for the earliest epiphany. Jesus’ words “ἐγώ εἰμι,” while walking on the Sea of Galilee, can now be understood by the hearers/readers and disciples alike as the words of the embodied logos revealing himself as God to his followers. At the same time, the disciples’ lacklustre response to Jesus’ appearance there – as well as their failure either to say anything following his self-disclosure or to respond after the miraculous arrival at shore – has been 320

While Thomas’ declaration creates tension in the narrative, owing to the various use of terminology, notably θεός, throughout Jn (see, e.g., 5.18; 10.33), the tension is only slightly greater here than in the sentences the text opens with (1.1), owing to the article ὁ. Jesus has not made himself God (10.33) or made himself equal to God (5.18), as Michaels (2010: 1018) notes, but is God, just as his Father is God. Finally, one character honours Jesus as he would honour the Father (cf. 5.23) and, it seems, now realises that in seeing Jesus the character has thereby also seen Jesus’ Father (14.7, 9; cf. 1.18 – see Frey [2013a: 817]; if the latter notion is not implicitly clear to Thomas, than it is to the hearers/readers). For Frey (2013a: 803, 817) Johannine theology is the “Klimax der neutestamentlichen Theologie” (“climax of New Testament theology”) and Johannine literature brings “die Gottheit Christi am klarsten zur Darstellung” (“the godhood of Christ to its clearest depiction.” For such students of John, Thomas’ confession might be the single most profound statement about Jesus in the New Testament – though cf. 1 Jn 5.20 (Frey 2013a: 556; cf. 559). Whatever the case may be, a “high christology” at the time of the Fourth Gospel is “keineswegs neu” (“anything but new”), as Frey (2013a: 816) notes, citing inter alia Phil 2.6–11 and 1 Cor 8.6.

470

Chapter 5: John

replaced here by a decisive and final recognition. The previous secret revelation of Jesus has been matched by a greater one. This time the sign has been understood. Features of the theophany to Thomas draws hearers/readers back also to the book’s opening scenes. The disciples have encounters with Jesus and react/respond to him primarily at the beginning and end of the narrative (Jn 1 and 20–21). There are two series of such encounters (1.35–51; 20.[1–]11–29). Each of the series approaches or reaches a highpoint in the reaction/response of one character (Nathaniel; Thomas) who initially expresses doubt (1.46a; 20.25b) in others’ testimony about Jesus (1.45; 20.25a) prior to encountering him. 321 The reaction/response is a verbal appreciation of Jesus, using a doublet: ῥαββί, σὺ εἶ ὁ υἱὸς τοῦ θεοῦ, σὺ βασιλεὺς εἶ τοῦ Ἰσραήλ (1.49); ὁ κύριός μου καὶ ὁ θεός μου (20.28). The acclaim becomes a platform on which Jesus makes a key speech, both (a) addressing the relevant disciple’s faith in him and (b) speaking of the future. 322 Affirmation of the two disciples’ faith comes in the form of very similar sounding questions: ὅτι εἶπόν σοι... πιστεύεις; (1.50) ὅτι ἑώρακας με... πιστεύεις; (20.29). The subsequent, related statements both address some relation of sight to belief, using seeing language explicitly. 323 The focus in the former case is on what will unfold in the narrative, in the latter on the future of the narrative world. The latter case, thus, forms a bridge to the hearers/readers themselves, preparing the way for the narrator’s immediately following direct appeal to them (20.30–31). Thus the multi-layered narrative parallelism of the contexts and the contents of Nathaniel’s reaction to Jesus and Thomas’s response to Jesus’ epiphany facilitates the latter story functioning as a kind of “call episode” for the hearers/readers, preparing them to take up the role of Jesus’ faithful disciples, probably not for the first time – but to do this with renewed or greater commitment. 324 Nevertheless, in Jn 20, unlike in Jn 1, the emphasis falls on the

321 Frey (2011: 28–29), referring to Lang (1999: 278), notes an “erstaunlich parallel” (“astonishingly parallel”) structure between Nathanael’s and Thomas’ encounters with Jesus, citing five points. Some of the points of parallelism I discuss in what follows, to the best of my knowledge, have not been observed before. 322 Note that in Jn 1 Jesus’ concluding commentary is the peak of the episode, owing to the redundant quotative frame (ἀπεκρίθη Ἰησοῦς καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ [1.50] – the speech orienter for Nathanael’s words is simply ἀπεκρίθη αὐτῷ Ναθαναήλ [1.49]). In ch. 20 the situation is reversed: Thomas’ speech is highlighted, through the use of both a redundant quotative frame and an anarthrous proper noun (ἀπεκρίθη Θωμᾶς καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ [20.28]), whereas Jesus’ concluding commentary is not (λέγει αὐτῷ ὁ Ἰησοῦς [20.29]). 323 Jn 1.50: μείζω τούτων ὄψῃ; 20.29: μακάριοι οἱ μὴ ἰδόντες καὶ πιστεύσαντες. 324 Similarly, Koester 2008: 71–72, 73–74; Frey 2011: 29–31.

Responses in Miracle Stories within the Overall Narrative

471

disciple’s speech, not Jesus’ reply. 325 Thomas’ confession stays in centre stage. The story with Thomas has a further, special meaning for the hearers/readers of the Fourth Gospel. Jesus’ words affirm Thomas’ faith as true faith. Seeing a sign, notably an encounter with Jesus resurrected, can indeed produce adequate, even great faith. Still Jesus’ comment about those who may yet believe in him without having seen him has two implications. First, it gives some deference in the narrative to the Beloved Disciple’s faith. 326 Second, it makes way 327 for the narrator to make an appeal to hearers/readers to believe in Jesus on account of the testimony of the signs written in the book, despite lack of eyewitness experience (20.31). 328 The latter point is strengthened when the relation with the narrative’s early episodes is observed.

XVI. John 21.7 Whether original or added later, 329 Jn 21 contains the final miracle story of the narrative as we now have it (21.1–14). It is, probably, to be seen as the first of two scenes in a longer story 330 and serves, generally, as a lead-up to 325 As noted above (see n. 149 and n. 317), an anarthrous proper noun and/or a redundant quotative frame are factors that give Thomas’ speech greater prominence than that of Jesus (Jn 20.28–29) and Jesus’ speech greater than that of Nathaniel (1.49–50). 326 A radical contrast is not envisioned between Thomas and the Beloved Disciple on the issue of seeing and believing, for the latter does see and believe (see above, n. 316). Still, he believed without seeing Jesus alive again. Even less contrast is envisioned between Thomas and the other disciples, who also have seen Jesus’ hands and side and believed, despite initial scepticism at someone else’s report of having seen Jesus (cf. Frey 2011: 28). 327 Note that Jesus’ concluding question and comment are introduced with a HP speech verb might forward to the future of the story world, since an extended, seemingly final comment by the narrator follows, not a connected episode. 328 While the first miracle story already indicated knowledge of a sign should lead to belief (cf. Barrett 1978: 194; Petersen 2013: 671), such stories, especially the resurrection accounts, have shown “that seeing does not guarantee believing” (Koester 2008: 72). Through a rough correlation with the Beloved Disciple, who believed in Jesus resurrected without having seen him, hearers/readers are invited to believe in Jesus on account of the narrative of signs, which they have not seen (cf. Moloney 1998b: 538; Popp 2013: 517, 527). 329 Culpepper (2006: 369–372), whose opinion has changed towards literary unity, offers a discussion of the debate. 330 Formal features (Jn 21.14, 15) may indicate 21.1–14 is an episode on its own (so Labahn 2013a: 764–765). Still, continuity of theme and characters speaks against this. The scene itself is broken into three parts, based primarily on fronted time references (21.1–3, 4–8, 9–14); similarly Moloney (1998b: 548).

472

Chapter 5: John

the more intimate interaction between Jesus, Peter and the Beloved Disciple (21.15–23). 331 The moderately formal 332 response of four elements, only one of which is familiar from previous miracle stories (verbal), portrays two characters’ actions (21.7): λέγει οὖν ὁ μαθητὴς ἐκεῖνος ὃν ἠγάπα ὁ Ἰησοῦς τῷ Πέτρῳ· ὁ κύριός ἐστιν. Σίμων οὖν Πέτρος ἀκούσας ὅτι ὁ κύριός ἐστιν τὸν ἐπενδύτην διεζώσατο, ἦν γὰρ γυμνός, καὶ ἔβαλεν ἑαυτὸν εἰς τὴν θάλασσαν.

Peter’s awareness of and, thus, response to the miracle is mediated through the event’s interpretation by his colleague, as he is again shown to be inferior to the Beloved Disciple. The latter’s words recall the theme of searching for the κύριος, from the previous stories. 333 Peter’s more faithful colours may well shine through in his response, though full explication of his restoration will come only later. 334 His actions receive some prominence in the discourse. 335 Still, as the miraculous catch of fish leads to the communal meal, through which recognition of Jesus’ identity is now beyond question, neither the miracle, as a miracle, nor the response are as important. 336 The meal is the 331 Heavy use of the HP achieves this (esp. ἔρχεται... λαμβάνει... δίδωσιν in 21.13, prior to the final, background comment). On the connection of Jn 21.1–23 see Labahn (2013b: 164–166). Moloney (1998b: 549–550) notes a similar rivalry in Peter and the Beloved Disciple’s “response to the miracle” here and their “response... at the empty tomb.” While the rivalry is evident, notably Peter does not respond in ch. 20 and his is the one significant response in ch. 21. 332 The two characters’ actions are formally distinct. Jn 21.7a begins with οὖν. The formal structure of 21.7b–d is familiar enough: essentially two mainline events (διεζώσατο... ἔβαλεν), beginning with οὖν and joined by καί, with a subordinated verb of sensation (ἀκούσας). The intervening offline comment (with γάρ) is not unusual. 333 Now, of course, there is no question as to whether or not Jesus has resurrected. Note the three instances of κύριος following Jn 20.28, all appearing in the phrase ὁ κύριος ἐστιν (21.7 [twice], 12), refer to Jesus and, owing to the fixed phraseology, indicate that this is, conceptually, a means of reference to Jesus that has now become established. The final five instances of the term, all in the vocative, come in Simon’s words to Jesus (21.15–17, 20– 21). 334 Peter’s jumping into the water may reveal “his affection, loyalty and priority really lie with Jesus” (Bennema 2009: 59, n. 27). But this is only a precursor to what is spelled out in detail later (Jn 21.15–19). Reading Peter’s clothing himself as symbolic reference to his “former sin of denial” (Labahn 2013b: 164) is unconvincing. 335 Aorist indicatives here (21.7b, d) follow an imperfect (21.6c) and HP (21.7a), thus attaining prominence. Peter’s actions later (21.11a–b), similarly, are flanked by main verbs that are HPs (21.9–10; 12a, 13) or an imperfect (21.12b). 336 Similarly, Labahn 2013a: 766. Nothing is said of the disciples’ response to Jesus’ appearance, only their silent knowledge is noted. They ask no question because “no further verification is needed” (Michaels 2010: 1040). Though I disagree that a fundamental difference between “miracle stories” and stories of “appearances” (Jesus’ resurrection is a sign in Jn, especially) is to be made, Culpepper’s (2006: 373–375, 375) discussion of the

Conclusion

473

vehicle through which Jesus invites and establishes communion with his disciples. 337

Conclusion The foregoing analysis has shown that the Fourth Gospel uses the response motif in a manner far from stereotyped. This general observation is based on attention to detail at various levels, first in the particular story at hand and next in the overarching narrative of the Gospel. Beyond this main observation, I have made others, which I now summarise in some detail. First, the analysis confirmed for John – as the previous chapters did for the Synoptics – the applicability of the definitions of miracle and miracle story established in Chapter One. A key factor here is that the stories of epiphanies of Jesus, notably those at the end of the Fourth Gospel, also narrate signs (see, especially, Jn 20.30). So the etic definition of miracle stories, including epiphanies, rests comfortably with the emic identification of stories about signs – though a Johannine sign cannot be reduced to a miraculous occurrence. The employment of responses helps in drawing the episodes about appearances of the resurrected Jesus together with the other miracle stories. Generally, all of the epiphanic and non-epiphanic miracle stories contain responses. This point of connection is extremely important, even when it is acknowledged that in three stories of healings or resurrection (in Jn 5, 9–10, 11) the presence of the response motif is of a less formal nature. The responses in both kinds of miracle stories draw on a common pool of elements, sharing the most commonly occurring ones: visual sensation, belief and speech, also reporting. Specifically, belief is a defining aspect of ideal or at least adequate responses in stories of signs for both the epiphanies and the other miracles. The term πιστεῦσαι, in particular, is important in this context. The initial miracle story, the abundant provision of excellent wine, paradigmatically establishes the connection. It is immediately reinforced in the second miracle story, a healing account. Though depictions of characters’ belief in Jesus are certainly not limited to miracle stories, they are presented as particularly fitting and expected in such contexts. Belief in Jesus following a healing and resurrection occurs in Jn 9 and 11. In Jn 6, after extended dialogue related to and following on the heels of two miracle stories, some disciples also believe in two miracle types in Jn 21.1–14 is helpful, noting “it is the only appearance story in the New Testament in which the risen Lord performs a miracle.” 337 Later Eucharist practice (Culpepper 2006) may be in mind. The connection with Jn 6 and 13 is more immediate.

474

Chapter 5: John

Jesus. Thus when Thomas’ proclamation about Jesus at the narrative’s climax is explicitly described by Jesus as belief, the relevant epiphany story is brought into harmony with preceding stories of signs. The connection between it and the first miracle story is particularly strong. The narrator’s subsequent comments (Jn 20.30–31) on his writing about the signs in order to foster faith in the hearers/readers immediately reinforces the connection between the foregoing epiphany story and other non-epiphanic miracle stories, established on the basis of characters’ responses of belief. Another factor drawing together a sign story in the first half of the narrative with those in the final two chapters is a set of common features. Only in these epiphanic stories – the walking on water and the post-resurrection appearances of Jesus – is the setting private, with the respondents being Jesus’ followers, acting in their role as recipients of the miracle. The Gospel, then, does not contain merely seven or eight miracle stories, but 11. Second, the definition of response adopted in the study is applicable to John. For it fits comfortably with the relevant phenomena in the miracle stories for the majority of cases (7 of 12 responses: Jn 2.11c; 4.53; 6.14; 6.19b– c; 20.20b; 20.25a; 21.7). Moreover, four of the initial five miracle stories are included here. This means that early on in the narrative responses of contiguous phrases/sentences set the standard from which exceptions later deviate. Once (20.16b, 18) Jesus’ speech intervenes. In another instance Jesus’ comments about Thomas’ actions interpret them as an expression of faith. Jesus’ follow-up words seem to be a recognisable play on the response motif and, thus, are reasonably included as part of the response here (20.28–29). In three stories (in Jn 5, 9 and 11) the miracle is followed by a series of interactions between characters, at times including Jesus, though the main respondents can be identified. Here we see the Johannine author’s greatest freedom in refashioning the response motif for the purposes at hand. Still, the culminating actions of the respective key characters (5.15–16, 18; 9.34, 38; 11.45–46, 53) are most comparable to the responses in the remaining miracle stories, especially the early ones. For example, the belief of both the man healed of blindness (9.38) and of a group of Judeans (11.45) relates to that of both the disciples (2.11c) and the royal official and his household (4.53). Thus labelling even these instances in the three more complicated miracle stories as responses seems justified. Third, I have conducted the first linguistic analysis of responses in John, also some other aspects of the miracle stories, in terms of discourse. Discourse analysis has shown that visual sensation, despite being the most commonly occurring element in responses, is typically less prominent than other components. The analysis of connectives – Johannine usage being atypical of Hellenistic literature –, heavy encoding of subjects, anarthrous proper nouns, redundant quotative frames and the historical present has helped to identify what material in a given story is accorded prominence. Thus, for example, in

Conclusion

475

the Gospel’s climax, the various verbs used to introduce Thomas’ and Jesus’ speech, along with the use of proper nouns, gives Thomas’ utterance (Jn 20.28) greater prominence than Jesus’ important follow-up comments. Analysis of the discourse has been vital for determining the paragraph divisions, developments and key moment in a given story, including the few times where a response is the peak, a development or sub-unit. Fourth, observations made in the analysis correspond to those of Justin Taylor on the alternation between levels of narration in the Gospels – spanning from the realistic to the “romantic” and even the mythic. In the Fourth Gospel the one miracle (vs. two or three in the Synoptics) during Jesus’ preEaster ministry that is narrated in the mythic level, the walking on water, is distinguished from the other signs in part on account of the response. Here only do disciples respond in a private context to a sign to which only they have been privy. 338 Fifth, in the analysis I have shown specific ways that the response motif and related quasi-response features are used creatively in the narrative. Responses do not just highlight the extraordinary nature of the deed or act Jesus has performed. Rather, they serve a variety of purposes, including the characterisation, both positive and negative, of the respondents, as well as furthering various aspects of principal and subordinate plotlines. Each response in the sign stories – along with those features so labelled heuristically – seems crafted, well-integrated not only into the story at hand but also into the overall narrative. Notably through the element of belief, Johannine responses are sewn into a belief/unbelief motif that is central to the greater story, especially in terms of plot, characterisation and the professed intent of its composition, that is the hearers/readers putting trust in Jesus. Yet the element of belief per se does not predominate in responses, nor are key instances of characters’ belief more at home in miracle stories than elsewhere. The use of belief terminology is flexible, capable of expressing levels of adequate belief and even inadequate belief. This broad semantic range for πιστεῦσαι in John is important for the characterisation of the respondents. Significantly, for characters who evidence adequate belief through their responses, the response is a deepening or growth of already existing belief. The pattern is set at the narrative’s beginning with the testimony of John the Baptiser, which is alternately accepted by some and received by a few. The few go on to experience Jesus’ miracles, which deepens their trust in him (Jn 2.11). While Jesus’ (prophetic) word can be enough to elicit trust in him which is not then fostered further by a miracle (4.29), a miracle often does follow, strengthening belief in him, which is 338

Elsewhere, the setting is always public and the respondents are, with one exception, characters other than those disciples constantly following Jesus.

476

Chapter 5: John

expressed in the response: 1.48–51 with 2.11 gives the paradigm; 4.50–53 is another early example; 9.7, 38 is relevant, though less prominent. I note that 11.27 offers a momentous, seemingly inverted case, in which one characters’ profound statement of belief in Jesus, despite some apparent lack of understanding of his intentions, preceding the miracle is not followed up on afterwards. In all these cases explicit belief language is used. The Beloved Disciple’s reaction to the empty tomb and its contents following Jesus’ resurrection (20.8–9) outshines characters’ later responses to Jesus post-resurrection appearances, in that his already existing belief in Jesus is fortified by his interpretation of what he sees in the empty tomb and, presumably Jesus’ earlier prediction of resurrection, without seeing Jesus himself. On the other hand, the climactic confession of Thomas (20.28[–29]) following his encounter with the risen Jesus is noteworthy for its content and the distance Thomas has travelled from doubt to belief. Again, in both cases explicit belief language is used. Still, in Jn 20 the cases of Thomas, the other disciples, Mary Magdalene and even the Beloved Disciple are similar in that all have already demonstrated their trust in Jesus previously by becoming his followers, while also evidencing less than ideal or perfect belief, owing to their initial reactions to Jesus’ crucifixion. The faith of each respondent grows as those involved experience the sign of Jesus appearing to them. As mentioned, belief in Jesus can be inadequate. This is demonstrated at the outset, though not in a miracle story (Jn 2.23–25). Only one response in which characters’ belief is positively stated is later thrown into doubt (11.45; cf. 12.37–43). These characters, referred to with the infamous term Ioudaioi, evidently had no prior relationship with or trust in Jesus. Here, too, the response plays an important role in characterisation. When belief language is not present in a response, belief in Jesus, unbelief or ambiguity is articulated through a variety of elements, though in each case one component is key. With the reporting element Mary becomes the paradigmatic announcer of Jesus’ resurrection and, also with this component, the disciples follow suit (Jn 20.25a). Through the emotional element (joy) the disciples’ belief is expressed. The Beloved Disciples’ speech (verbal) and Peter’s actions (bodily motion) show the positive nature of their responses to Jesus’ appearance. Reporting is twice (the formerly incapacitated man [5.15b]; some Judeans [11.46b]) an indication of unbelief, as is an expressly antagonistic element in responses in three stories (5.16; 9.34; 11.53). In unsatisfactory and ambiguous responses the distinguishing element is, respectively, verbal (5000 Galilean men [6.14]) and emotional (the disciples [6.19b–c]). The foregoing summary of the contribution responses make to characterisation already highlights some ways that responses are important for the development of plot, especially in an individual story. The larger plot of the Gospel, too, is served in various ways. Adopting a blend of ideas from pri-

Conclusion

477

marily Culpepper and Moloney, I understand the plot to be pushed forward by the conflict of belief and unbelief of various characters, as Jesus’ identity is progressively revealed, with a particular emphasis laid, ultimately, on the disciples’ growing belief in Jesus. At the same time, following Welck and Frey, the early sign stories point forward, by a variety of means, towards the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. The final sign stories build upon these key events, bringing out the ramifications for disciples’ understanding of Jesus and belief in him. Responses in the miracle stories contribute in two specific ways, then, to the plot. (a) They help to bring about the development of the disciples’ faith. After reacting to encounters with and words from John the Baptiser and Jesus in the narrative’s opening scenes, the developing faith of a few initial disciples is brought to an early highpoint in their response in the opening miracle story (Jn 2.11). But in a subsequent miracle story conflict sets in. Here a deviation from standard aspects of the early miracle stories is pertinent. When the stories are divided into two groups, according to whether epiphanies are involved, a pattern emerges. In epiphanic episodes the setting is and stays private and the respondents are established followers in the functional role of recipients. 339 (Established followers are observer respondents once, in the opening miracle story.) Just one such story – the walking on water – occurs in the first half of the narrative, while the remainder occur towards, in or just following the narrative’s climax. Interestingly, in the early, private epiphany, where the disciples are privy to a more powerful revelation of Jesus than the masses, the disciples do not exhibit adequate faith (6.19). Though this situation would seem largely rectified in a following, related scene, there is clearly still much that the disciples have not come to realise about Jesus. Will they rise to the occasion, when more is revealed to them? Despite various subsequent setbacks, the answer is yes, as the series of stories in chapter 20 shows. Here the disciples come to believe in their Lord, as their responses in these latter private epiphanic stories indicate. The special revelation they receive has not been wasted on them. One of the responses, in fact, that of Thomas, serving as the narrative’s overall high point, shows how their faith in Jesus is finally firmly established. (b) Responses number among the various ways that sign stories point forward to Jesus’ death and resurrection, investing them with meaning, or, alternatively, point back to and build on these key events, bringing out their im339

The two kinds of miracle stories are not differentiated by a particular preference for certain elements in responses or, indeed, variations in the emotional element – as fear vs. amazement in the Synoptics. Still, it can be noted that the emotional element (occurs twice) only appears in epiphany stories. (Nor do types of focalisation contribute to making a distinction between the groups of miracle stories, as they do in Mark.)

478

Chapter 5: John

plications more fully. As the first miracle story, implicitly contrasted with the coming and far greater “hour” of Jesus, relates an abundant provision of firstrate wine which inspires belief in Jesus among the disciples, hearers/readers expect a deeper faith from characters to be developed later in response to a more miraculous, eschatological provision of benefits. They may anticipate also their own faith growing. A similar double anticipation is created by the responses of faith from the royal official and the man born blind, in the second and sixth miracle stories, respectively, where the metaphorical implication of Jesus’ provision of health/life and liberation from blindness is again eschatological – eternal life and understanding of who Jesus truly is. At the same time, inadequate responses in the fourth and fifth miracle stories and, more significantly, adversarial responses in the third and sixth ones suggest that not all will react positively to what Jesus will accomplish in his “hour” either. In fact the violent responses of some to the healing of the incapacitated man and the seventh narrated miracle, the resurrection of Lazarus, when interpreted in light Jesus’ speech, indicate that the rejection of Jesus by some may indeed help bring about his demise. The fatality, however, is foreseen by Jesus as necessary in order to provide life. Whereas the first of three miracle stories with antagonistic responses (stories three and six) end with lengthy speech by Jesus, the last (story seven) comes to a close with interaction among those plotting Jesus’ doom. Jesus is silent. This response (Jn 11.53) aptly brings the main body of miracle stories to a close, pointing dramatically toward Jesus’ impending death. After Jesus rises from the dead, the responses bring out the fact that Jesus’ execution – continually attested to by his enduring scars – and his resurrection, which also makes the former understandable, are the revelation of God’s love and full disclosure of eternal life, that is the logos embodied in Jesus. That Mary, the larger group of disciples and, finally, also Thomas see Jesus is important for each character’s response (Jn 20.18; 20.20b; 20.25a; 20.28–29). They see the glory of God’s only son (1.14) precisely in his state of having been crucified and brought back to life. The glory, based on the greatest, lifesacrificing kind of love (15.13), was not perceivable to these characters without Jesus’ resurrection and subsequent appearances. The responses in the miracle stories in chapter 20 demonstrate how and that Jesus’ death and resurrection bring about belief in him by his followers. Their role within these sign stories is important, therefore, for underscoring how these earlier events constitute God’s revelation. With respect to responses in miracle stories, the Fourth Gospel has much that is shared with the Synoptic Gospels – more than has previously been observed. At the same time, there are of course notable differences. In light of the similarities and differences, the possibility arises that some form of shared tradition, beyond simple literary dependence among the four gospels, is at work. This possibility will be considered in the following chapter.

Part Two Towards Tradition

Chapter 6

The Interrelations of the Gospels While... discussion of Luke’s Great Omission necessarily touched upon miracle tradition... none of the essays in the 1911 Studies in the Synoptic Problem dealt exclusively with this subject. While understandable in itself, this lacuna surprisingly remains despite a century of lively discussion. 1

In the previous four chapters I looked at how the response motif is employed by each of the four gospels, paying due attention to the respective overarching narrative. In the course of the analysis, two interconnected points have come to the fore that have a direct bearing on the question of the interrelations of the Gospels. On the one hand, usage of the response motif evidences diversity. In none of the Gospels do responses, for example, uniformly serve to depict the greatness of the protagonist, offering him a round of applause. Rather responses serve a wide variety of literary purposes, including various forms of plot development and characterisation. And commonly recurrent elements in responses, such as reporting, speech and emotion, do not line up neatly with just one kind of characterisation or plot movement. In short, the narratives of the Gospels show versatility and, at times, even artistry in their usages of the motif. On the other hand, the responses evidence numerous points of connection between the Gospels – especially true of the Synoptics, but interestingly also of all four gospels. The points of connection can be formal in nature – for example, commonly occurring components, defined lexicosemantically (emotion, seeing, speech, movement, reporting). Alternatively, they pertain more to general content, as with the patterns of settings and characters responding for two different miracle story types (epiphanic and non-epiphanic). Interestingly, the said similarities involve diverse material in relation to literary dependence: material unique to Luke and Matthew in addition to material in the Triple Tradition, the Double Tradition, shared by Mark and Luke only or shared by Matthew and Mark only. The fact, then, that the Gospels contain miracle stories whose responses bear significant similarities both in individual instances and in larger networks, while the literary function of the em-

1

Reid 2011: 299.

482

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

ployment of a response in a given episode may vary greatly from that of formally similar responses elsewhere, presents a problem to strictly literary models of the interrelations of the Gospels. The possible influence of oral tradition, too, should be taken into account. In what follows, assuming the Two Document Hypothesis, I will pursue the question of oral tradition in relation to the miracle stories in greater detail, using data for each gospel that was systematically collected in the respective preceding chapter. My assuming this hypothesis results from earlier analysis (Section R of Chapters Three and Four), which demonstrated that it accounts for the data better than its two most well-known rival hypotheses. Recent studies have called for greater appreciation of the role of oral tradition, involving social memory, for understanding the material in the Gospels. It has been suggested that miracles are important in this connection. Building on these studies, the present analysis seeks to determine what the presence and nature of responses might indicate about the place of miracle stories in the oral tradition. The ubiquity of the responses makes them a promising object of study. I ask first and foremost questions of a general nature about the oral tradition. How central were the miracle stories to the oral tradition about Jesus? What purposes did the narration of responses serve in oral performance? When and in what social and geographical context did the stories likely begin to gain their specific characteristics with respect to the response motif? To what extent and for how long did the oral tradition influence the writing of miracle stories in the Gospels? Did its impact on written composition continue up until the composition of John? Some questions specific to certain stories will be raised as well. To what extent is there evidence among the Minor Agreements in the Triple Tradition that, for a given story, varied oral performances of it have influenced Matthew and Luke (in versions agreeing with one another at some points, while yet differing from than the Markan version)? A similar question will be asked about potential oral performances of a story found in both John and two of the Synoptics. At the same time, below I will analyse the responses with a view to assessing the conventional understanding of Q, the hypothetical source used by both Luke and Matthew, independently, in addition to Mark. Typically, the contents of Q are taken to be coextensive with the Double Tradition. A corollary claim is often that little narrative material and, especially, few miracle stories are found in Q. This chapter reopens questions related to these commonly held opinions. The questions pertain primarily to miracle stories in the Triple Tradition. Given the known overlaps between Mark and Q already, could not versions of miracle stories in the Triple Tradition have been in Q also? For the sake of convenience, the Gospels will be referred to in shortened form in the analysis: Mt, Mk, Lk, Jn.

State of the Question

483

A. State of the Question I. The Synoptic Problem As the task I have set before myself in this chapter is extensive, much ground must be covered in order to adequately address the state of the question. I begin with the Synoptic Problem. Strangely the miracle stories, so ubiquitous in the Gospels have never been studied in detail for the purposes of source criticism, though they have been considered at length from the perspective of form criticism and also redaction criticism – primarily given the assumption of the Two Document Hypothesis (hereafter 2DH). The statement of Duncan Reid from just half a decade ago, cited at the opening of the present chapter, summarises the lamentable state of affairs. Reid’s (2011: 307) “necessarily brief” investigation, the first of its kind, “is primarily intended to provoke further investigation and discussion.” I will return to Reid’s investigation later. For now, I note that aspects of the present work – Section R in Chapters Three and Four, above, as well as parts of the present chapter – contain, then, the first more detailed examination of the miracle stories in relation to the Synoptic Problem. I have already addressed, in the analysis of preceding chapters, the two most well-known alternatives to the 2DH in the most amount of detail that they will receive in the present study. While there will be reason to address these (and other) alternative theories again in what follows, I will give greater attention to addressing the weaknesses of the 2DH as it is conventionally conceived. 1. Two Document Hypothesis: Minor Agreements Despite many decades of investigation of the interrelations of the Synoptic Gospels, a satisfying solution has not been found, owing to the conundrum of complex agreements and disagreements that exists between them. The 2DH is clearly favoured by the majority of scholars. In its basics the hypothesis assumes that Lk and Mt, independent of one another, utilise Mk and Q, a hypothetical document that bears no direct literary relation to Mk. The favour this basic model of the hypothesis enjoys is seen, for example, in the way numerous gospel commentaries proceed on the assumption of it with little or no discussion of its justification. Yet the 2DH is plagued with problems. For many, the principal problem with, if not the “Achilles heel” (Goodacre 2002: 152), is the numerous, though often not extensive, agreements between Mt and Lk against Mk in the Triple Tradition (hereafter TT), that is the material shared by all three. Almost all TT pericopes contain such agreements, conventionally called the Minor Agreements (hereafter MAs): whether an absence of Markan material or the presence of material not found in Mk. Opinions differ regarding how many and what kind of MAs might pose a difficulty to the 2DH and require an explanation beyond positing coinci-

484

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

dentally similar or identical editorial procedures by Mt and Lk. The problem of quantity is compounded by the fact that there are no agreed upon criteria for identifying MAs and thus counting them. Conventionally the number of MAs is placed at around 1000. But a number as high as 3785 (Vinson 2004: 154) has been given. Proponents of the 2DH often distinguish between different kinds of MAs, arguing that small differences involving a single, common word, such as Mk’s καί versus both Mt’s and Lk’s δέ (or Mk’s λέγει vs. Mt’s and Lk’s εἶπεν) do not require belaboured explanation. Some critics of the hypothesis resist what they consider a divide-and-conquer approach, emphasising that even such seemingly insignificant agreements often appear in conjunction with other, more significant MAs. For E. P. Sanders and Margaret Davies (1989: 73, emphasis original) it is on account of the overall number of MAs, of varying degrees of significance, that they “posit some relationship between Matthew and Luke in addition to or instead of their independent use of Mark.” Other critics of the 2DH focus on a few MAs of a quality that they find the hypothesis simply cannot account for. Identification criteria again differ for qualitatively superior MAs. A staunch opponent of the 2DH, Michael Goulder (1993), cites nine. 2 His two criteria align with the Farrer Hypothesis (hereafter FH), which assumes Markan priority plus Lk’s use of Mt. Goulder looks for MAs which evidence: Matthean style and un-Lukan style. For Mark Goodacre (1996: 109–117), while sympathetic to the FH, only six of Goulder’s examples meet the criteria, rigorously applied. To Goodacre’s mind, three MAs are the most difficult for the 2DH. His criteria are specific to the 2DH: MAs for which explanations seem the weakest, assuming the 2DH. One is found in a miracle story, the healing of the paralytic. Another, “the minor agreement that has caused more trouble to two-source theorists than any other,” (Goodacre 2002: 159) is in a passion context: τίς ἐστιν ὁ παίσας σε (Mt 26.68 || Lk 22.64 vs. nothing in Mk 14.65). 3 Goodacre (2002: 158–159) deems the typical explanation of conjectural emendation – i.e. “the words... originally appeared only in Luke, but at a later stage texts of Matthew were assimilated to those of Luke” – to be “a desperate response to data that do not fit the two-source theory.” Lists of qualitatively superior MAs are typically longer, whether John C. Hawkins’ (1909) 20 or Frans Neirynck’s (1991) 43. 4 Yet Neirynck, too, fo-

2

Originally, Goulder (1978) cites 12 key MAs for his argument. The two other most troublesome MAs Goodacre (2002: 154–157) cites are: ὕστερον (Mt 22.27 || Lk 20.32) vs. ἔσχατον (Mk 12.22) and ἰδοὺ... ἐπὶ κλίνης (Mt 9.2 || Lk 5.18; cf. 5.19 [κλινίδιον]) vs. nothing in Mk (2.3; cf. 2.4 [κράβαττος]). Only the first of these MAs numbers among the six MAs Goodacre affirms from Goulder’s list. 4 Neirynck’s (1991: 10) list is based on that of Hawkins “in combination with similar lists compiled by E.D. Burton and M.-J. Lagrange....” 3

State of the Question

485

cuses on a smaller number of troubling MAs (4). 5 It is striking that 17 or 40% of Neirynck’s 43 significant MAs occur in miracle stories. 6 Four instances (9%) are part of a response to a miracle in one or more of the Synoptics. Two have verbatim agreements – ἀπῆλθεν εἰς τὸν οἶκον αὐτοῦ (Mt 9.7 || Lk 5.25) versus ἐξῆλθεν (Mk 2.12c); ἐθαύμασαν λέγοντες (Mt 8.27 || Lk 8.25b) versus ἐφοβήθησαν φόβον μέγαν or nothing (Mk 4.41a). Two have agreements of lexemes (identity or similarity): ἐφοβήθησαν (Mt 9.8a) || ἐπλήσθησαν φόβου (Lk 5.26b) versus ἐξίστασθαι or nothing (Mk 2.12c); ἀπαγγεῖλαι τοῖς (Mt 28.8) || ἀπήγγειλαν... τοῖς (Lk 24.9) versus οὐδενὶ οὐδὲν εἶπαν (Mk 16.8c). 7 In an attempt to explain these more impressive MAs, presentday 2DH proponents, Neirynck being a prime example, typically suggest here, too, that coincidental editorial changes by the author-redactors of Lk and Mt are responsible. Some scholars posit more complex forms of the 2DH, involving a Deutero-Mark (e.g. Fuchs 1971; 1980; 1993) or simply a second recension of Mk (Luz 2002–2007). Another approach is to examine a specific portion of text with MAs of a noteworthy quantity and quality. Miracle stories are frequently referred to in this context. Sanders and Davies (1989: 67–72) cite the healing of the paralytic as a showcase example. Nicholas Perrin (2004: 76–79) discusses three miracle stories – healing of the paralytic; stilling of the storm; feeding of 5000 – to illustrate the claim that “[i]n a number of pericopae... Matthew and Luke share a substantial number of Minor Agreements against Mark.” Neirynck (1991: 29–40) discusses the feeding of the 5000 and the transfiguration, as two examples of “certain passages” with a notable “concentration” of MAs. In the present context, the healing of the paralytic and the stilling of the storm stand out. Each episode has a greater concentration of MAs overall, including a response with one or two of the more striking MAs. These deserve detailed examination in the analysis to follow. The analysis will bring new data and adopt a more advanced approach to the MAs. In previous assessments, MAs have tended to be largely or strictly of morphological, lexical and semantical natures – order of lexemes is also 5 The majority are the “three cases in which independent redaction seems ‘almost impossible’ to Hawkins and Lagrange and now to Bovon and Luz...” (Neirynck 1991: 11). Unlike B. H. Streeter, for these MAs Neirynck does not propose textual corruptions but coincidentally similar editing by Mt and Lk: τοῦ κρασπέδου (Mt 9.20 || Lk 8.44) vs. nothing (Mk 5.27); καὶ διεστραμμένη (Mt 17.17 || Lk 9.41) vs. nothing (Mk 9.19); δέδοται γνῶναι τὰ μυστήρια (Mt 13.11 || Lk 8.10) vs. τὸ μυστήριον δέδοται (Mk 4.11). The fourth case is τίς ἐστιν ὁ παίσας σε. 6 Four more of these significant MAs (corresponding to Mk 6.7, 14, 33, 34) appear in miracle-related contexts. 7 Other MAs from Neirynck’s list that occur in miracle stories correspond to: Mk 1.40 (two); 2.3 (two); 3.1; 5.22, 27; 6.41; 9.2, 7, 19; 16.2, 5.

486

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

considered. As I will demonstrate, other types of MAs can be identified, based on both discourse features and, for a story, the narrative contours. For responses in miracle stories agreements of Mt and Lk versus Mk in discourse features concern: mainline events; development; relative priority of elements; coordinating versus subordinating conjunctions (related, also the number of sentences involved for a response); post-nuclear verbs introducing speech. MAs pertaining to narrative features may involve standard versus nonstandard forms of focalisation and exceptions to ubiquitous pattern of miracle types, settings, characters responding and the type of emotion in the responses. Of particular interest would be an instance in which Lk and Mt both contain a similar exception to the pattern, while Mk does not. These and other types of MAs can be accounted for within the 2DH, by positing that Q contained a version of the story in question. Such a solution, interestingly, is commonly not proposed. While MAs of a lexical and morphological nature (especially verbatim phrases) may lean towards positing literary dependence, many agreements of the sort of discourse and narrative features mentioned above may be accounted for just as well by positing dependence on similar versions of the story in question, occurring in different oral performances. The possibility of oral tradition accounting agreements and disagreements among the Gospels, generally, has been greatly neglected in study of the Synoptic Problem, despite the fact that significant advances have been made in recent years in our ability to understand the role that oral tradition, as well as social memory, played in the formation and continuance of the Jesus tradition, likely influencing all of the authors of the Gospels. I will return to the question of oral tradition below. For now, though, I turn to Q. 2. Two Document Hypothesis: contents of Q A second, albeit related problem for the 2DH, as conventionally conceived, is that the proposed contents of the Q document are ill-conceived. On the one hand Q is unjustifiably taken to be essentially coextensive with the Double Tradition (hereafter DT). On the other hand, given this delimitation, scholars concentrate on dialogues and speeches, while narrative elements are minimised. Similarly, attention is given to especially sapiential and prophetic aspects, while references to miracles are minimised or overlooked altogether. A point germane to the study at hand is that, given the two said tendencies, miracle stories in Q – whether the three in the DT or potential others from other material – experience the brunt of the neglect. Before discussing the aforementioned points, it may be helpful to examine the historical development of the defining traits of contemporary Q scholarship. The key factors are the influence of the form- and redaction-critical paradigm with respect to miracle stories (see Chapter One, above) and the discovery of the Gospel of Thomas.

State of the Question

487

Martin Dibelius (1919, 21931, 61971) and Rudolf Bultmann (1921, 101995), despite their different taxonomies of the materials in the Gospels, both distinguish categorically between sections of material that they deem to be focused on speech or, alternatively, narration. Bultmann, above all, shows this tendency, dividing the entire body of gospel material into two categories along the lines of narrative (“Erzählungsstoff”) and sayings (“Worte”). The two bodies as distinct, with separate histories of origin. There is a measure of similarity, too, among the scholars’ principal categories for sayings and narratives, notably “Paradigmen” (Dibelius) and “Apophthegmata” (Bultmann), on the one hand, and “Novellen” (Dibelius) and “Wundergeschichten” (Bultmann), on the other. The latter consists of stories of Jesus’ mighty deeds. For the former category, the significance of a given unit lies in a key statement made by Jesus – or, in the case of Dibelius, possibly a key action. Even if a miracle is narrated, a significant statement from Jesus determines that the pericope belongs to this category. Thus, Bultmann, who otherwise considers more material to be miracle stories than does Dibelius, lists under “Apophthegmata” the only two pericopae narrating a healing and an exorcism that are commonly attributed to Q. The categorisation schemes are supported by a rigid concept of genre. The scholars presume an original, almost Platonic, “pure” form of genre, allegedly drawn on by the Jesus tradition. Bultmann (101995 [1931]: 5) maintains that underlying “traditionelle Formen als technische Hilfsmittel verwendet warden,” even when one observes that “ein Überlieferungsstück nicht selten einer bestimmten Gattung nicht eindeutig zugeordnet werden kann.” 8 Correspondingly, Bultmann and Dibelius speak of a mixed genre or a generically “impure” pericope, when a given text does not fit in the pertinent, preconceived category. This approach has received due criticism. In the case of stories of Jesus’ mighty deeds, Ruben Zimmermann’s approach – discussed in Chapter One, above – is far more robust, able to cope with variations within a genre, conceived of as a family of texts. The two giants of form criticism also concur in their view of a long historical process of development in the Jesus tradition from individual units about Jesus, circulating orally, through collections of thematically related units to the written Gospels, formed by stringing units together. They take the hypothetical document Q to be a prime example of a collection of sayings. Collections of miracles, too, are seen as commonly employed by the Gospels, such as Mk’s use of a catena for 4.35–5.43. Bultmann (1959) argues for a distinctive collection of seven miracles, a Signs Source, used by Jn alone.

8

“traditional forms are used as technical devices”; “one piece of the tradition is seldom to be classified unambiguously in a single category.”

488

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

When the study of Q is renewed with vigour in the 1960s under the leadership of Günther Bornkamm, a student of Bultmann and Dibelius’ successor in Heidelburg, the form-critical perspective supporting Q as a sayings document coextensive with the DT is taken as par for the course. So too is the idea of genre and the conception of the development of the gospel tradition. The Gospel of Thomas, recently discovered (1945) and published (1958), is taken to be of the same ilk as Q. James M. Robinson (1964) posits that a genre he calls λόγοι σοφῶν, sayings collections that developed primarily in the tradition of Jewish wisdom, accounts for the natures of both Q and the Gospel of Thomas. At the same time Q is linked to the idea, formulated first by Heinz Eduard Tödt (1959), that a particular community of followers of Jesus, who are responsible for the document, focused on his teachings in contradistinction to other communities which accepted the allegedly alternative tradition, focused on events associated with their leader, namely his death and resurrection. Now a proposed genre and a proposed community are linked to the conventionally conceived Q document. Fuller support is allegedly given to separating wisdom and sayings from miracles and narrative in the Jesus tradition. Applying redaction criticism to Q, given these starting points, allows scholars to see material less pertinent to wisdom and sayings as later additions. Bornkamm being a leading figure in redaction criticism, the form- and redaction-critical paradigm naturally forms a nest for Q scholarship to grow in. A momentous impetus for excising narrative and miraculous elements from the alleged stratum earliest of Q arises from the impulse to conform the nature of this document to that of the Gospel of Thomas, which does not contain narrative. Helmut Koester, a student of Bultmann and trained by Bornkamm in Heidelberg, takes the affinity one step further. The two documents share not only a generic but also a genetic relationship. He takes “the earliest composition of the Synoptic Sayings Gospel Q,” whose contents he sees as “mostly prophetic sayings and instructions for the community,” punctuated with an eschatological (and not principally sapiential) perspective, to be a representative of “the earliest sayings collections” (Koester 2007: 241, 243) associated with Jesus. He argues that these collections developed in two different directions, leading to the final version of Q and to the Gospel of Thomas, respectively. In the former, Jesus’ prophetic teachings are submerged in apocalyptic thinking, whereby “the sudden and unexpected coming of the Son of Man” is announced and “the judgment over ‘this generation’” is pronounced (Koester 2007: 243). In contrast, the Gospel of Thomas stays truer to the proposed genre, controlled by the alleged principal internal to it, even though Jesus’ sayings are now interpreted as providing esoteric knowledge. As I have shown in Chapter One, above, so much of the form- and redaction critical paradigm as regards miracle stories has been undermined during the last several decades. Not least of the contributing factors has been the debunking of the θεῖος-ἀνήρ construct. Another factor is the scholarly trend

State of the Question

489

towards understanding Jesus as a figure who was known as a miracle worker during his lifetime. While I will return to this point below (Section A, V), I note here that Koester (2007: 240; emphasis added) can still in the twentyfirst century publish the following: It is futile to ask whether this tradition of Jesus’ miracle working had its origin in historical reports about Jesus’ activity.

Koester, invoking form-critical scaffolding in support of his claim, 9 shows just how tied some Q scholarship can be to the theoretical framework of Dibelius and Bultmann, carrying it forward essentially intact, regardless of deficiencies. In Chapter Seven, below, I will take up in more detail the related point of whether Jewish or non-Jewish parallels to the gospel miracle stories are a better fit. Despite the undermining of the form-critical paradigm, the evident momentum with which it put Q scholarship into motion seems to make it difficult for Q scholars to pay due attention to narrative and miracles in the hypothetical document and, related, to be more realistic of how extensive its contents may be. The relation of Q to the Gospel of Thomas, too, can be subjected to scrutiny in this connection. As to the contents of Q, a simplistic approach, adopted by a large number of scholars, including members of the International Q Project, is to see the document as more or less equivalent to the DT. Paradoxically, such a view probably incorporates both too much material (from the DT) and too little (material from the TT, material unique to both Mt and Lk and other material). I will start with the latter. First, the approach is minimalist 10 in the extreme. For example, John S. Kloppenborg Verbin (2000: 95) notes: “Matthew or Luke may occasionally have omitted pericopae from Q, just as they omitted materials from Mark.” The statement is less than accurate, if not misleading. The adverb “occasionally” might be appropriate for Mt, where parallels to roughly 90% of the

9

Following the sentence cited, Koester (2007: 240; emphasis added) writes: “This cannot be known because all these [miracle] stories are formed according to typical patterns of Hellenistic propaganda on behalf of great religious leaders, for example, the first-century CE Neo-Pythagorean, Apollonius of Tyana. In the Christian missionary propaganda, aretologies [sic], that is, strings of miracle stories of Jesus had been developed that sometimes paralleled stories of the missionaries’ own miracles that they might use as ‘letters of recommendation.’” The implicit, uncritical reliance on Philostratus for Apollonius, the presumed missionary characteristic of the gospel miracle stories, the implicit, seemingly exclusive focus on a non-Jewish context and the presumed development of miracle story collections are all problematic. See the discussion, above, in Chapter One. 10 By “minimalist” I do not mean the position of those scholars who would drop one, two or three verses from the DT from Q. Rather, “minimalist” describes all positions that sees Q as roughly coextensive with the DT.

490

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

material in Mk can be found. 11 But Lk’s use of Mk, on the 2DH, exhibits much more than the occasional omission. Indeed, Lk omits much from Mk (just under 50%) and can even drop a large section from his source at one go. 12 The so-called Great Omission is a large section from Mk (6.45–8.26) for which parallels do not appear in Lk. 13 At the same time Mt has parallels for eight of the nine pericopae in Mk for this portion of text. 14 By analogy, then, there is potentially a large amount of material in Q that was not reproduced by both Mt and Lk. Looking beyond the DT, one might expect other material from Q to show up in material unique to Mt in the majority of cases. 15 At times it might appear in material found in Lk only. It is probable that occasionally some material from Q is omitted by Mt and Lk and thus lost to us. 16 A note on methodology is in order. Assuming a similarity between Mt’s redactional procedure for Mk and for Q – likewise between Lk’s procedure for Mk and for Q – is taken as acceptable and a basic heuristic model by many Q scholars in other contexts. One such context is the fluctuating nature of verbatim agreements between Lk and Mt in the DT. I will return to this topic momentarily. 17 Yet, when it comes to Mt’s and Lk’s approaches to selection of material from Mk, the heuristic analogy for understanding their redaction of Q is inexplicably dropped. This inconsistency in approach needs correction. Nicholas Perrin (2004: 79) observes that the methodology of focusing “on the convergence of Matthew and Luke, and absence from Mark” is “altogether appropriate if the goal is to establish a ‘critical minimum.’” But “warranted Q” (essentially the DT) should never be confused with “actual Q.” Strangely the few, very brief so-called “expansions” of Q proposed by some scholars tend to come from material unique to Lk (e.g. 11.27–28; 14.1– 6; 15.8–10), not Mt (e.g. 5.41). At any rate, one should expect far more material than this to have been a part of “actual Q.” And, as there is narrative material in the DT, there may well have been other narrative material in the 11

Streeter (1930: 159) claims that “Matthew reproduces the substance of over 600” of Mk’s 661 verses. 12 Streeter (1930: 160) claims that “Luke omits more than 45%” of Mk. 13 By “parallels” in this statement, I mean a parallel context with even some amount of verbal agreement. 14 The exception is a miracle story (Mk 8.22–26). 15 Similarly, Perrin 2004: 82. 16 Kloppenborg Verbin (2000: 99, emphasis added) either is unaware of or ignores this possibility, speaking only of “the possibility that on occasion Matthew or Luke chose not to include a Q pericope.” 17 In a similar way, it is commonly assumed that just as Mt changes the order of pericopae in Mk frequently, while Lk preserves it, Mt changes the order of Q more frequently than Lk.

State of the Question

491

remainder of Q, which now is to be found in the Sondergut of Mt or Lk (or in neither of them). Problems inherent in the minimalist approach also arise with respect to the TT. It is widely recognised that material in Mk and Q overlap. Famously, Burnett Hillman Streeter (1930: 186) stated, “...the overlapping of Mark and Q is more certain than is the existence of Q.” The instances upon which most agree are: Jesus’ temptation, the accusation of collusion with Beelzebul and the parable of the mustard seed. The basis for these admissions is the number and quality of agreements between Mt and Lk against Mk. 18 Only a few other pericopae in the TT (e.g. Jesus’ baptism) are considered by some as having a version in Q also. But whence comes the minimalism? There is no a priori reason for insisting that the overlapping material must have been only slight. The moment that it is recognised that shared material is found in Mk and Q in the TT, then all of the TT must be subjected to scrutiny. The same criteria must be applied. Thus for any episode which exhibits qualitatively and quantitatively impressive agreements between Mt and Lk against Mk, there is a high probability a version of the story is in Q. Interestingly, all of the relevant pericopae cited by Sanders and Davies, Perrin and Neirynck, which I discussed above in relation to MAs, are not only narrative episodes, but also miracle stories: healing of the paralytic; stilling of the storm; feeding of the 5000; transfiguration. This reality helps mitigate one of the principal objections made against the 2DH on account of the Mark-Q overlaps. Sanders and Davies (1989: 82) insist, “We then are left with a great difficulty: why did the tradition divide into Mark (mostly narrative) and Q (mostly sayings)?” The more it is accepted that Q contained narrative material – in contrast to, for example, the Gospel of Thomas – the less force Sanders’ and Davies’ question has. 19 It should be noted that in an earlier generation scholars more 18

E.g. Kloppenborg Verbin (2000: 92) says, “Most recent reconstructions of Q include... items triply attested where the degree of agreement against Mark is substantial and the agreements are not likely to be merely coincidental....” 19 The problem is not entirely solved – nor is a related problem identified by Sanders and Davies. Since some material in Q overlaps with that in Mk in verbatim phraseology, the greater the overlap envisioned, the more likely the verbatim agreements should be understood in terms of literary dependence. If such dependence is conceded, possibly Mk knows Q (cf. Catchpole 1993; Fleddermann 1995; 2005). Sanders and Davies (1989: 82) claim that the whole basis for the 2DH – the assumption that Mk and Q are composed independently of one another – crumbles, if one accepts that Mk knew Q: “Streeter’s earlier view, that Mark used Q, means the defeat of the two-source hypothesis – which of course he saw, and thus retracted the conclusion of a detailed and excellent study.” Alternatively, Q and Mark may have access to a common literary source, one that may look “very much like Matthew or Luke” (Sanders and Davies 1989: 82). Thus, the elegance of the 2DH – two independent early sources (Mk and Q) used by two later sources, independently – suffers. (Also, if it is admitted that Mk could have omitted important sayings

492

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

commonly understood MAs in the TT as products of Mk-Q overlap, though today the tendency is to follow an intellectually less satisfactory line of reasoning: namely, the MAs are the result of independent, coincidentally similar or identical editorial procedures by Mt and Lk. 20 Moreover, the moment it is conceded that material in Mk and Q overlap, it must be taken seriously that Mt or perhaps Lk or, just possibly, both have not reproduced some of Q. The result is that some shared Mt-Mk material may also well be in Q. The same is true for Lk-Mk material, though less of it should be in view. Finally, there may just be material shared by Mk and Q which neither Mt nor Lk has produced! The admission that Q may contain versions of material found in Mt and Mk, Lk and Mk or simply Mk does not enable one to begin reconstructing the text of Q – unlike in the case of the TT – since there are no agreements of two texts against Mk to be evaluated. Nevertheless, it is an important admission. To make the admission is to dispel the pseudo-positivism by which the proposed reconstruction of the contents of Q is characteristically conducted in modern scholarship. It also raises the possibility of more narrative material in Q, since so much of Mk consists of episodes! Second, the approach is unduly maximalist with respect to the DT, where the level of verbal agreement varies from pericope to pericope. Kloppenborg Verbin (2000) has argued that these variations in the level of verbal agreement in the DT fit with the presumed redactional procedures of Mt and Lk with respect to Mk. For Mt and Lk both vary as to the extent of verbal agreement they enjoy in the TT. Terence C. Mournet (2005) has challenged this argument. The methodology he uses is an improvement over that of previous studies. Mournet does not assign merely one percentage for overall agreement for a given pericope. Rather, he looks for agreement within “units of sense,” sections of a pericope determined according to “natural ‘insertion points’” or “points whereby an editor might conveniently either insert, or possibly remove material” (Mournet 2005: 207). Within a given sense unit Mournet calculates the percentages of shared words, agreement in order and verbatim agreement. Still, the methodology might be improved on, by giving specific attention to lengthy verbatim phrases (in addition to noting the percentage of verbatim agreement). Mournet examines three groups of pericopae. The seven group “A” texts are selected from DT pericopae identified by James Dunn as possibly oral in origin. (This model of oral tradition, based on the work of Kenneth Bailey, and other models are addressed in more detail below.) The six group “B” material as would be contained in Q or, probably, a literary source for it and Q, then Mk could have easily edited Lk or Mt in the same way.) 20 See Perrin 2004: 77–78.

State of the Question

493

texts are DT pericopae Dunn argues are clearly literarily dependent. Group “C” consists of the two passages from the TT with “the lowest levels of overall verbatim agreement” (Mournet 2005: 207) between Mt and Lk, taken from the four “control” texts suggested by Kloppenborg Verbin. The distinctiveness of group “A” texts – especially patterns of variability and stability – can be well explained, Mournet (2005: 292) argues, by positing “an oral performance model of early Christian tradition transmission.” Pericopae in both group “B” and group “C” contain lengthy non-parallel sections in Mt and/or Lk, which lower a pericope’s overall level of verbatim agreement significantly. The material can be understood as insertion of material by a redactor into a pericope taken over from a literary source. In contrast group “A” texts tend to have short non-parallel sections of an explanatory nature, interspersed among the parallel material (Mournet 2005: 281). These phenomena fit with one oral-traditional perspective, where the stability of the basic contours of a story are preserved in oral performance, though variation in details is also allowed. Group “A” texts also tend to have a greater level of internal variability for verbatim agreement within a pericope’s sections, whereas group “B” texts tend to have consistent levels of high verbatim agreement. The two group “C” texts are closer to those in group “B” than group “A” in this regard. 21 Also distinctive of a number of pericopae in group “A” is the high level of verbatim agreement for a pericope’s “core,” which stands out from the other sections, which have lower levels of verbatim agreement. The “core” in group “B” and group “C” texts do not stand out in this regard from the sections that surround them. Mournet asks whether this difference could be significant, admitting that it is beyond his study to answer the question. Mournet does not suppose that the levels of variability and stability in all group “A” texts can be explained best by the model of oral performance he entertains. There is one notable exception: “the lengthy sections of verbatim agreement” in the episode of the healing of the centurion’s servant, agreement “unique among the group ‘A’ pericopes... studied” (Mournet 2005: 292), are more likely the result of literary dependence. I note that one shared verbatim phrase here lasts 23 words. Two other pericopae, while not showing the signs of the oral model that Mournet proposes, fit well with the idea that Mt and Lk derive their material from oral traditions, owing to the consistently low level of verbatim agreement in the pericopae’s sections. 22 In 21 Note, though, that while the parable of the vineyard has lengthy verbatim phrases shared between Mt and Lk, the death of Jesus has only one five-word phrase and one fourword phrase. 22 Mournet’s (2005: 280) concession of a consistently extremely low level of verbatim agreement in the parable of the great banquet (0%–20%) undermines his claim that “there is substantial variation in the level of internal variability” in this pericope. Something

494

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

short, Mournet makes a convincing case that, in at least some parts of the DT, Mt and Lk do not derive their material from a shared literary source. He correctly advises future studies to look more to the potential for oral tradition to help explain the interrelations of the Synoptic Gospels: “Despite the understandable desire to reconstruct an elegant model of Gospel interrelationships, which a strictly literary paradigm enables one to do, we must begin to shift away from an exclusively literary model... towards an understanding of the Jesus tradition that is able to take account of the highly oral milieu that existed during the time of Gospel composition” (Mournet 2005: 293). Returning to a key objection by Sanders and Davies to the 2DH on account of Mk and Q overlaps (why did the material develop in two different directions: a narrative versus a sayings collection?), it should be noted that all of the material in the DT that Mournet argues can reasonably be attributed to oral tradition is of Jesus’ teaching. To a limited extent, then, Mournet’s study also lessens the impact of Sanders’ and Davies’ objection, just as considerations of potential material from Q being found in the TT have weakened its force. More important in this regard, however, are the narrative elements within individual sections of Q and, indeed, a narrative sequence involving a number of the sections. Despite some scholars labelling Q a “Sayings Gospel,” with an eye on the Gospel of Thomas as a model, many recognise a quintessential dissimilarity between the two documents. The latter has a conspicuous absence of narrative elements and reference to geography. 23 Absence of such features is integral to the program of Gospel of Thomas: hearing the words of the Living One. 24 Kloppenborg Verbin’s (2000: 154–163) solution to the generic difference between the two documents is to posit that the narrative elements in Q are additions in a later recension. I will return to this theory in more detail below. Of course one objection to this interesting hypothesis stems from serious methodological problems inherent in positing recension layers for a document whose boundaries and contents are already not known and whose minimal text (“warranted Q”) cannot be established at numerous points. This objection aside, Kloppenborg Verbin’s approach does not take into account the endemic nature of a narrative sequence for the material in much of “warranted Q.” Goodacre (2002: 176) has ably shown that “Q shows similar could be said for his discussion of the pericopae on divisions within households, in which all sections have a low level of verbatim agreement. I would add that these two DT pericopae have very few verbatim phrases. There is one short three-word phrase and a single two-word phrase in the parable of the good supper. In the other text there is no verbatim shared phrase at all. 23 E.g. Koester 1971. 24 The difference between Q and Gos. Thom. on this point is made well by Goodacre (2002: 177).

State of the Question

495

clear signs of narrative properties.” He cites four categories: (1) “transitionary editorial formulas of the kind that introduce but also juxtapose successive units”; (2) “some logical narrative progression in successive units”; (3) “signals that point forward to developments that will happen later on in the narrative”; (4) “signs of some kind of itinerary, or geographical progression” (Goodacre 2002: 176). Of course, Goodacre is interested in such narrative properties in order to argue for Lk’s use of Mt. But for those who hold to the 2DH, also, the narrative nature of Q must be taken seriously. In short, “warranted Q” bears witness to a larger text (“actual Q”) that demonstrates a substantial literary, if not generic, difference from the Gospel of Thomas. A minimal text of the material in “warranted Q” from the first two of three blocks found in Lk (3.1–4.15; 6.20–7.35) provides a basic narrative outline as follows: John the Baptiser (region of the Jordan) preaches a baptism associated especially with him; he predicts “the coming one”; Jesus (introduced) is baptised (likely the “spirit” descending on Jesus is mentioned and an indication that he is God’s “son”); Jesus (wilderness) is tempted, with the question of his being God’s “son” being key; Jesus relocates (Nazareth; new scene?); Jesus (inaugural discourse) addresses his disciples (introduced?); Jesus heals the centurion’s son (Capernaum); messengers (introduced?) from John the Baptiser ask if Jesus really is “the coming one”; Jesus addresses crowds (similar to John previously) regarding his predecessor. 25 Given this narrative sequence, then, there should be no a priori objection on the 2DH to the possibility that TT miracle stories exist also in Q. And given the importance Q actually places on miracles, if MAs of a sufficient quality and quantity in a given episode warranted the probability of literary dependence between Mt and Lk, the said episode would in fact make a good candidate for inclusion in Q. However, scholarship typically downplays the miracles and miracles stories in “warranted” Q. In order to establish the point, I will take a detailed look at the work of some leading Q scholars. It can be seen that, in various and important ways, their approaches to miracles are strongly informed by the perspective forged by the great form critics, while the data are too often forced to fit into this paradigm, whose basis at any rate has in many respects eroded. Along the way I will also consider how they treat – or ignore – uses of the response motif. I begin with Robinson, since he more than many reveals the significance of the miracles, though at times in spite of himself. He sees both the reference to performances of miracles in Q 7.22 and the healing story with the Capernaum centurion (7.1–10) as important aspects in the structuring of “about the first third of the text (through Q 7,35)” (Robinson 2005: 319). Jesus’ miracles and teaching, exemplified in the said miracle story and his inaugural speech, iden25

Goodacre 2002: 172–175.

496

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

tify him as “the coming one,” the one empowered by God’s spirit. These two governing aspects of Jesus’ characterisation come to the fore at the beginning and closing of the section: initially, John the Baptiser predicts the superiority of “the coming one,” who will baptise not with water, like John, but with the spirit and fire and, further, the spirit descends on Jesus at his baptism; 26 later, Jesus confirms that he is the “coming one,” referring to his thaumaturgic and preaching activity by making reference to various Isaianic texts, including 61.1, indicating that he is anointed by God’s spirit. Robinson (2005: 319) sees “a conscious effort” in the placement of the material related to John, in particular, in two sections, forming an inclusio. The importance of miracles increases, given not only the rarity of such structuring in Q but also its pride of location: “the Healing of the Centurion’s boy” is one of two parts of “the definitive witness to Jesus” (Robinson 2005: 324). Yet Robinson does not go far enough. First, the importance of miracles, also miracle stories, would further be seen, if he were to have explicitly identified Jesus’ baptism as an epiphany story, as Theissen (1974: 104) does. Robinson (2005: 340–346) argues for a crowning epiphanic element in the episode: God legitimises Jesus, probably with a voice from heaven referring to Jesus as “my son.” The one miracle story leads to the next. Receiving the spirit leads to mighty deeds performed by the power of the spirit. Second, Robinson does not address the incongruity between Jesus’ speech in Q 7.22 and the foregoing: here his healings are referred to at greater length and in more detail than is his preaching, in contrast to the lengthy text of his inaugural speech and the much shorter, single miracle story. Third, Robinson downplays the miraculous aspect in the centurion story. This assessment is based, in part, on a too rigid view of genre: “In fact the healing is not form-critically a miracle story at all” (Robinson 2005: 323). While one can accept that the point of the story is “confidence in the efficacy of Jesus’ word” (Robinson 2005: 323), a point seen at the similar end to Jesus’ inaugural speech, it does not mean that the occurrence of the miracle is itself irrelevant. The meaning of the centurion’s confident faith would be completely undermined if Jesus did not then perform a miracle. 27 Robinson seems to lack appreciation of the possible effects brought about by variation in how a familiar type of story, here a miracle story, unfolds by playing on expectations. He seeks a “pure” form. If a story does not conform to a common pattern it is essentially not a miracle story.

26 In the description of the spirit resting on Jesus (Q 3.22) Robinson (2005: 346) sees a reference to Isa 61.1, which is picked up again in Q 7.22. 27 This is a misleading statement: “Stating the fact that the boy was actually healed, if in Q at all, seems hardly more than an afterthought (Q 7,10)” (Robinson 2005: 3.23).

State of the Question

497

Robinson downplays the continuing importance of miracles for both the proclamation and reception of Jesus’ message. He sees the “cures that fulfill Isaiah’s prophecies” (7.22) to be, with the exception of the Capernaum story, “all too peripheral in Q, with only passing belated references” (Robinson 2005: 382). Surprisingly, he refers here only to Q 10.9 and 11.14, failing to mention 10.13, 10.23–24 and 11.15, 19–20. Calling Jesus’ command to his disciples to heal in 10.9 “peripheral,” a “passing” reference to miracles, is unfair – just one, short command for them to preach is given here too. It also misses a key point of connection with Jesus’ own mission. Just as Q 7.22 confirms that “the coming one,” empowered by the spirit, preaches and heals, so too must his disciples. 28 In the woes Jesus utters the δυνάμεις alone are cited as the basis upon which Galileans ought to have repented (Q 10.13). The failure of Jesus’ compatriots to repent following the performance of miracles pales in comparison to the centurion’s early expression of faith which precipitated a healing at a distance. Nor is 11.14 “peripheral” or “passing” in any sense. It is closely connected to – and presented as the basis for – the subsequent discourse about the source of Jesus’ power. This source, God, is contrasted with an evil source, introduced earlier in the temptation, a story itself linked to Jesus’ baptism, where he receives power from God. The contrast between God and forces of evil, then, is closely related to Jesus’ spiritempowered miracle working. There would seem to be in 10.23–24 a parallel to 7.22, with sight corresponding to Jesus’ miracles and hearing to his teaching. A corroborating point is the recent pairing of healing and proclaiming in 10.9. In 10.23–24, as in 7.22, greater emphasis is again placed on the miracles, given the double reference to sight versus the singular reference to hearing. Second, when he turns to consider the overall document, Robinson seems to forget his earlier observations about the importance of miracles. He reduces the importance of the document to Jesus’ sayings. His leap in logic can be seen here: “…it is appropriate to the way the text presents itself to refer to the content of the Inaugural Sermon as sayings, and by extension to refer to Q itself as the Sayings Gospel” (Robinson 2005: 329; emphasis original). This assessment clearly favours just one part of what it means for Jesus’ to be the spirit-empowered coming one in “warranted” Q. The role the centurion’s miracle story plays in “the definitive witness to Jesus” has been displaced. Having deemed Q to be merely a collection of sayings, Robinson has difficulty, in fact, with the very structure at the beginning of the document that he identifies. For of the illnesses cited in Q 7.22 from Isaiah 26, 29, 35, 42 and 61 [LXX], he says, “Yet it is surely an odd selection of proof texts for a collection of sayings [sic] – it would have been more at home in the Σημεῖα 28

This is a point that Robinson (2005: 324), in another context, himself makes.

498

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

Source used in the Gospel of John!” (Robinson 2005: 322). There seems to be here a deeply entrenched commitment to “pure” literary macro-forms, especially collections of sayings versus collections of miracles. Kloppenborg Verbin (2000: 123) gives a certain room to miracles in Q, when he notes how Jesus is portrayed through them as an Elijah-like figure. More commonly, however, he sidelines the miracles, as when he refers to the content of Q 7.22 as “God’s reversal of the fortune of the disadvantaged and the poor” (Kloppenborg Verbin 2000: 122). A key characteristic of the reversal is left unmentioned: the working of God’s power above and beyond the regular laws God established in creation. Also, Kloppenborg Verbin’s adjective “disadvantaged” seems ill-chosen, unable to include the dead, though Jesus speaks of the dead being raised through his activity. He recognises a connection, on account of reference to Capernaum and to lack of responsiveness, between “the woes against Galilean towns” in Q 10.13–15 and the story of “a Gentile’s faith” (Kloppenborg Verbin 2000: 148). Yet, he does not discuss the equally important point of connection, namely the miracles themselves. The centurion’s faith doubly trumps the others’ non-reception because it precedes the procurement of a healing, while the deficiency in faith persists even after the δυνάμεις are performed. The miraculous element here is not even mentioned by Kloppenborg Verbin. For Q 10.23–24 Kloppenborg Verbin (2000: 145, 387), like Robinson, reduces the reference to visual and aural sensation to its connection with teaching: the text is “a saying that underscores the importance of the [foregoing] instructions” and a claim to “knowledge of the kingdom,” a wisdom transcending that of earlier sages. Alternatively, he subsumes the sight and hearing under the concept of “judicial proceedings,” an aspect of “the narrative functions of the wisdom tale” (Kloppenborg Verbin 2000: 372). The traditional tale of wisdom’s trial and condemnation, he argues, provides a conceptual framework for the document as a whole. This last point draws to attention how Kloppenborg Verbin’s vision of the genre of Q as wisdom literature – accompanied by a rigid view of genre – results in the marginalisation of Q’s miracles in the final analysis, even though he shows more nuance at times in the discussion of a particular, relevant text. Thus in reference to Q 10.9 he can discuss the dual-assignment of the “workers,” commissioned “to heal and proclaim the kingdom,” and speaks of “the specific lifestyle, therapeutic practice, and kingdom message of Jesus that defines the activities of the ‘workers’” (Kloppenborg Verbin 200: 393; emphasis original). These activities mirror those of Jesus and are traced back to God’s sending. But then, turning to the text as a whole, Kloppenborg Verbin (2000: 395) lets the therapeutic component fall by the wayside: the overall “focus of Q” is reduced to “the message [sic] of the kingdom and its defense.” Identification of the presumed focus aligns with a general approach, consciously formulated, in which Q is pitted against Mark: “…Q

State of the Question

499

has a distinctive profile when compared with Mark…” (Kloppenborg Verbin 2000: 66). What is different is deemed most important. Thus, in one of Kloppenborg Verbin’s (2000: 66) few references to Q’s healing and exorcism stories, the recognition that the text has “two miracle stories” is immediately qualified, noting both are “focusing on sayings of Jesus.” 29 Kloppenborg Verbin does not comment on the crowd’s response of amazement in Q 11.14, presumably because he takes it to be a typical feature of miracle stories, not requiring comment. He mentions in passing that “Jesus marvels at a Gentile’s faith” (Kloppenborg Verbin 2000: 148), referring to 7.9, but he does not analyse this response related motif. Assuming the important factor in Q miracle stories to be whether the miracle or Jesus’ speech is in focus, he does not pay attention to other points of connection, such as the response in the one – showing typical traits of the Jesus tradition as a whole – and Jesus’ amazement and speech in the other. Given his categorical distinction made between Mark and Q, involving the presence or lack of miracle stories, he seems to divorce the understanding of miracle stories in Q from that of those elsewhere. Furthermore, Kloppenborg Verbin argues that Q did not contain the baptism of Jesus, precluding any potential epiphany. A further way that both Robinson and Kloppenborg Verbin minimise miracles in Q is by their relegation of narrative material, including miracle stories, along with other references to miracles, to later redaction. Kloppenborg Verbin (2000: 160) claims: The supplementation of the Q1 instructions by the Q2 material introduced a new element into Q: narrative framing.

The framing includes Q 11.14. Moreover, while the “main redaction contains woes, warnings of judgment, and prophetic correlatives,” it also inserts whole stories, including the two miracle stories: “chriae occasioned by a healing (7:1–10)” and “two challenges to Jesus (11:14–23, 29–32)” (Kloppenborg Verbin 2014: 202). In an even later redaction, Kloppenborg Verbin insists, the account of Jesus’ temptation is finally inserted. Narrative material is thus all but entirely removed from the envisioned historical core of Q. Robinson (2005: 334) affirms Kloppenborg Verbin on the “trend toward narrativity” in “the second edition” of Q. He also finds Kloppenborg Verbin’s identification of the alleged redactional layers to be a “reliable” scheme, taking “the Inaugral Sermon Q 6,20b–49” as the “older layer” (Robinson 2005: 119, n. 1) within Q 3.2–7.35. For both scholars we have a case in which theoretical constructs, accompanied by the enthusiastic application of one methodology, redaction criticism, strongly influence the results of the analysis. Sayings and 29

Kloppenborg (2000: 141) does not criticise the idea that “…Q shows no interest in miracle stories….”

500

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

wisdom material must be early, it is concluded, and narrative and miracles must be late. However, the constructs are faulty – assumed “pure” forms for units in oral tradition, with miracle stories conceived of in terms of the alleged divine men, and a tendency for units of a given “pure” form to be gathered together on their own, with narrative about Jesus kept neatly apart from words of Jesus. I have criticised the form- and redaction-critical paradigm on many of these points in Chapter One, above, and will return to the topic again in Section A of Chapter Seven, below. Being two of the three editors of the International Q Project’s reconstruction of the document (Robinson et al. 2000) and the leading Q scholars in North America, the minimalism of Robinson and Kloppenborg Verbin has a notable influence on the field – with respect to both the limited contents of Q and the downplaying of narrative and miracles, including miracle stories. For example, Robinson et al. (2000), providing just 10 possible words for Q 3.21–22, Jesus’ baptism, present a reconstructed text that is uncertain as to whether the heavens open, the spirit comes to Jesus and a voice speaks from heaven. It is not clear, then, that even a story is at play, much less an epiphany story. Q scholars in the United Kingdom, while generally more cautious in argumentation, also tend towards minimalism regarding the miracles. Uncommitted to redactional layers in Q, Christopher Tuckett (2014: 171, n. 81; 175), noting that the temptation narrative may “imply a rejection” of any “miracle performed for its own sake or to prove other [non-Messianic] claims,” speaks nevertheless of the “generally positive attitude to miracles in Q.” Indeed, an important aspect of Jesus’ portrayal is achieved by his “fulfilling the Isaianic prophecies in his miracles (Q 7:22),” though “Jesus refuses to act in any way that will compel his audience to accept his claims” (Tuckett 1996: 420, 421). As for miracle stories, when battling proponents of “a Cynic Q,” Tuckett (2014: 141, n. 85) speaks of “healing stories” in Q. Elsewhere, he seems less willing to apply the category: Q 7.1–10 is “the only ‘miracle’ story with any detail in Q” (Tuckett 1996: 285). With reference to miracle discourse elsewhere, he notes the implicit comparison between the Gentile centurion’s posture towards Jesus and those of others, taking it as “part of the polemic against other Jews who are failing to respond to Q’s Jesus” (Tuckett 2014: 223). Yet he does not detect a comparison between Jesus’ amazement and speech in this miracle story and the Galilean crowd’s amazement and the Pharisees’ speech in a response in another miracle story. The response in the latter story, to the best of my knowledge, is not addressed anywhere in Tuckett’s (1996; 2014) two monographs. Again, it seems taken for granted as a typical, unremarkable feature of miracle stories generally. In an essay dedicated to Q 7.1–10, David Catchpole (1993: 280–308) shows greater awareness of the importance of miracles in the document and

State of the Question

501

more refined appreciation of deviation from conventional patterns of expression. His estimation of the story is high (Catchpole 1993: 281): It is scarcely possible to overestimate the importance for Q of this apophthegmatic miracle story and the theology it aims to articulate.

Catchpole is committed to the idea of original “pure” forms for miracle stories in oral tradition, which later become transformed, with the miraculous element demoted. 30 Nevertheless, paying attention to this story’s placement in Q, he affirms the significance of the miracle itself. For the story is closely linked to “the christological issue of Jesus as coming one and Son of man” (Catchpole 1993: 281): That miracle, so it would emerge, is intended to be typical of a range of miracles which have not been explicitly narrated but which are now listed for the Baptist’s benefit (Q 7,22).

Later, however, he seems to undermine this appreciation, unnecessarily pitting “faith… focussed on Jesus as the authoritative Son of man” against “faith in Jesus as a miracle worker” (Catchpole 1993: 307). His conceptual framework here seems again influenced by the form- and redaction-critical paradigm. The more than four pages Catchpole (1993: 304–308, 307) dedicates to analysis of Q 7.9, “this climactic saying,” are of mixed quality. Jesus’ actions here, involving three verbs, are reduced to a “saying.” Importantly, his amazement is nowhere discussed! Whereas Q underscores the authority of Jesus’ word in the preceding block of teaching material, here the centurion’s word, testifying to that of Jesus, comes to focus through 7.9 (Catchpole 1993: 308): The tradition [i.e. story]… exposes the power of the word of Jesus. And yet it is the word of the centurion which is, if anything, more arresting.

Given this insightful observation, nevertheless, somewhere in Catchpole’s concentration on words, one testifying to another, full appreciation of what Jesus accomplishes through speech, namely the healings that identify him as the coming one, seems to get lost. Catchpole intuits a connection between Q 7.9 and a response motif common in miracle stories. He contrasts Jesus’ utterance here with the “acclamation” in Mt 9.33 (Catchpole 1993: 307), both of which contain ἐν τῷ Ἰσραήλ. But the nature of the connection remains underdeveloped. He does not go so far as to see 7.9 as a variation or inversion of the response motif: unusually, 30 “With the concluding pronouncement of Jesus the transformation of the tradition from a miracle story into a pronouncement story or, more strictly, an ‘apohthegmatic miracle story’ is complete” (Catchpole 1993: 304; citing Uwe Wegner).

502

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

Jesus is amazed and comments on the petitioner’s faith, prior to the execution of the miracle, rather than the petitioner’s amazement and speech occurring in response to it. Harry Fleddermann’s “long, thorough commentary” is described by Benedict Viviano (2013: 82) as “perhaps” the “most extraordinary American work on Q.” Fleddermann advances the discussion in three ways. First, he is much more liberal than others with respect to the size of Q. In place of the usual “220–235 verses or parts of verses” (Brown 1997: 117), Fleddermann takes Q to comprise 453. These include 28 texts from the TT, whether pericope or, more often, individual sayings. He does not think any material unique to Lk or Mt originates from Q – a suspicious conclusion. Still, his approach takes more seriously the implication for Q from the observation that “[n]either Matthew nor Luke takes up all of Mark into their gospels” (Fleddermann 2005: 73). It is refreshing. Second, he sees more narrative in Q than many others. He argues for Q being a “gospel,” replete with “all the elements of narrative [–] plot, character, setting, narrative voice, theme, and tone” (Fleddermann 2005: 106). Third, he gives significant attention to miracles, especially with respect to developments that transpire as Q unfolds. For example, in Jesus’ self-disclosure in Q 7.22, Fleddermann (2005: 375) recognises the portrayal of Jesus’ ministry as having two aspects: “Jesus responds by referring to what the emissaries see and hear, his miracles and his preaching….” This point pertains to the disciples, too, the connection being established in 10.9: “Healing and preaching the kingdom characterize disciple as well as teacher” (Fleddermann 2005: 434). In discussion of 10.23–24, Fleddermann again understands reference to sight and hearing as pertaining to miracles and teaching. “Q’s Christology climaxes” as “those with privileged eyes and ears who receive the revelation” that Jesus is “the Coming One, the Son of Man” and “the Son of God” are brought to faith, in part, through witnessing healings, exorcisms and resurrections. 31 One can only lament that, despite these steps forward, in other ways narrative is decidedly absent from Fleddermann’s scheme. None of the TT texts he includes in Q are narratives. Jesus’ baptism is omitted. All the texts in the DT commonly identified as stories are redefined as speeches or dialogues. Thus, no single unit in Q, by Fleddermann’s account, is in fact a story! Cautiously avoiding speculation about redactional layers, he seems to err in the other direction, proposing that a single author creates a unified literary work. The proposal is coupled with an interest in “aesthetic” unity: “Q’s aesthetic permeates the entire document” (Fleddermann 2005: 83). A penchant for “pure” forms, informed by the great form critics, seems to be behind not only his 31 Elsewhere Fleddermann (2005: 375–376, 378) speaks of “the rich dimensions of his [Jesus’] miracle working,” claiming that “[t]he author of Q deliberately authenticates both Jesus as the Son of Man and the coming of the kingdom of God in Jesus’ ministry of healing, raising the dead, exorcising, and preaching.”

State of the Question

503

approach to the overall document but also his take on the individual units, as evidenced in the following categorical statement: “Q does not contain narratives like miracle stories…” (Fleddermann 2005: 103). Also with respect to miracles in Q, Fleddermann delivers less than he would seem to promise. For example, though he argues at length for the importance of Q 10.13 in its context, as the “central saying” of a “small ring composition” (Fleddermann 2005: 435), he fails to comment on its unique focus on miracles. 32 More germane to the present study, the narration of miracles are minimised, also that of responses. Fleddermann has nothing to say about the crowd’s amazement in Q 11.14, commenting only on the speech of Jesus’ opponents. The amazement is alternately skipped over 33 or subsumed under phrases like “fuller narrative introduction” or “extended introduction” (Fleddermann 2005: 502, 506). Fleddermann evidently takes it to be a standard feature of narrating exorcisms, borrowed from wider tradition, with no specific role in Q itself. 34 For Fleddermann, speech in Q is ever in focus. As for Q 7.9, Fleddermann (2005: 352) once states that “Jesus was amazed,” but offers no further comment, focusing instead entirely on Jesus’ speech. Positing that the centurion “pericope ends with Jesus’ reaction to the profession of faith” (Fleddermann 2005: 348), he notes an important connection with the following dialogue centred on the question of who Jesus is. The faith-filled Gentile shows “in advance how one should answer the question John poses,” by “reading the healing even before it is granted as a sign that Jesus is the Coming One” (Fleddermann 2005: 353). Yet, when Fleddermann (2005: 378–379, 378) compares in detail the “centurion and John… responding to Jesus,” talk of miracles falls by the wayside. Implicit reference to them can be found in the larger concept of “Jesus’ unconditional authority” (Fleddermann 2005: 379). But, curiously, the link between miracles and accepting the kingdom, which he explicitly addresses in connection with the mission discourse, is absent in his discussion here. Like Catchpole, Fleddermann connects Q 7.9 and Mt 9.33, but without reference to responses to miracles. For he sees in Mt 9.33 “a comment that echoes his [the redactor’s] sharp formulation of Jesus’ reply to those following” (Fleddermann 2005: 344) in Mt 8.10. Given Fleddermann’s (2005: 353) understanding that 32 Fleddermann’s (2005: 434) basic statement on the topic is: “Those who accept the healing and the preaching enter into the kingdom; those who reject them [sic] expose themselves to judgment….” 33 Fleddermann (2005: 476) begins his discussion of the “narrative introduction and initial accusation” thus: “Q introduces the pericope with an exorcism (Q 11,14) which triggers the accusation [sic] that Jesus works through Beelzebul (Q 11,15).” 34 The idea of “amazement,” though not pertaining to a lexical item (e.g. ἐθαύμασαν) with this semantic sense, comes up once, in establishing the text of Q. Commenting on the verbal utterances in Mt 9.33 and 12.23, which he calls “expressions of amazement,” Fleddermann (2005: 478) claims that they, reflecting Matthean theology, stem from the redactor of Mt.

504

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

“the author of Q composed the Centurion’s Servant [pericope]” and the assumed literary dependence of Mt 9.33 on it, the possibility that some broader tradition is influencing one or either text seems to have disappeared. The most helpful analysis of Jesus’ amazement comes from the Germanspeaking world – Martin Hüneburg and Detlev Dormeyer, respectively. Hüneburg (2013: 176) sees Jesus’ emotion as a variation on the response motif: Staunen – sonst die Reaktion der Zeugen über das Wunder – ist hier die Reaktion Jesu auf das Verhalten des Zenturio. 35

This reversal of expectations, he argues, helps to characterise the centurion as possessing superior faith and serves to underscore the unsatisfactory reception of Jesus among his fellow compatriots. An inner-Jewish discourse is nevertheless in mind. This insightful analysis of the pericope at hand could only benefit, then, from comparison with the crowd’s response of amazement later in Q. What Hüneburg lacks Dormeyer (2014: 193) provides: Jesus gerät ins Staunen wie später das Volk über seine zweite Wundertat (Q 11,14). 36

And his understanding of the crowd as an ambivalent character might allow for their amazement to come out short in a comparison, though he does not make this point. Dormeyer’s understanding of the function of Jesus’ emotional reaction is implausible: Jesus is allegedly amazed because he has wielded a power that he recognises now as God’s own. At any rate, the observations of Hüneburg and Dormeyer can be profitably brought together. The inversion of the response motif in the story about the centurion itself and in comparison with the response in a second miracle story highlight the remarkable faith of the centurion, which finds full expression even prior to the healing requested. While the influence of the form- and redaction-critical paradigm can still be palpably felt, 37 both Hüneburg and Dormeyer see miracles, generally, playing a much larger role in Q than the more prominent Q scholars discussed above. The important follow-up question that has not, to the best of my knowledge, been entertained by Q scholars is: what are the implications of the sophisticated use of the response motif, especially regarding amazement, in Q for understanding the oral Jesus tradition? The question’s significance is fuelled by the recognition of Kenzo Tagawa (1966: 93) and Gerd Theissen (1974: 79) that emotional responses in stories of mighty deeds are rare among those, primarily non-Jewish, comparative texts typically cited. Alternatively, as my analysis in the preceding chapters has shown, emotional responses are 35

“Astonishment – otherwise the response of witnesses to a miracle – is here the response of Jesus to the conduct of the centurion.” 36 “Jesus becomes astonished like the people later do at his second miraculous deed.” 37 E.g. Dormeyer (2014: 194) says of the centurion pericope: “Es liegt keine reine Wundergeschichte vor… sondern eine Mischgattung….”

State of the Question

505

common in a both epiphanic and non-epiphanic miracle stories in the Synoptics. The terse narration, then, of an amazed response in Q 11.14, potentially stereotyped, could indicate that the motif is drawing on a larger oral tradition about Jesus. This would be a logically outworking of an observation made by Tagawa. 38 Moreover, the creative use of a motif, such as occurs in Q 7.9, may indicate that the motif is widely known, enabling the reversal of expectations to be poignant. The possibility arises that the miracle stories in Q are drawing on a tradition about Jesus, held in common with the Synoptics, that possesses features uniquely characteristic of it when compared to miracle stories associated with other ancient figures. A corollary question is: if such a shared tradition about Jesus existed, when did it begin? The issue of the dating of Q comes into play. The hypothetical document should probably be dated between 40–60 CE. 39 Thus, the very real possibility arises that a shared oral tradition about Jesus’ miracles, drawn on by Q and the Synoptics, could have developed, possessing now some of its uniquely characteristic features, already by the 50s CE. This possibility must be seen in light of recent developments in the study of the Jesus tradition in light of theory about social memory and oral tradition, a topic to which I will return shortly (Section A, III). The foregoing review of scholarship has brought to light that the performance of mighty deedss by Jesus and his followers – and stories of such miracles, also of an epiphany – are by no means a foreign element in Q. Rather the references to miracles likely constitute an integral part of the larger narrative plot, in as much as it can be discerned from the minimal text of “warranted Q.” Earlier generations of scholars were not afraid to see more overlap between Mk and Q, thereby incorporating more narrative material into the latter. On the contrary, this was deemed an advantage for adequately dealing with the MAs! This issue bears directly on the question of miracle stories. Bernhard Weiss (1876: 22–23), for example, argued for Q containing versions of a number of miracle stories found in the TT – healing of the leper; stilling of the storm; exorcism of Legion; healing of the paralytic; compound

38

Tagawa (1966: 92) seems to speak of the motif’s employment in miracle stories in non-Markan tradition prior to Matthew and Luke (and outside of Q), but does not specify if he means written or oral tradition about Jesus (or both). 39 Viviano (2013: 87) notes that Q is “often dated between AD 40 and 70.” A later dating, necessitated by the postulation of communities behind the alleged redactional layers, can be set aside, since such hypotheses, as I have shown, are unsupported. Still, given Brown’s (1997: 122) cautious suggestion that Q was “in existence in the 60s,” resisting a desire for certainty on the issue, leaving a range of years from 40–60 CE, seems advisable.

506

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

of the healing of the hemorrhaging woman and the resurrection of Jairus’ daughter. 40 As Perrin (2004: 78) seems to have correctly observed, the Zeitgeist of the current era, which prefers overwhelmingly “to resist attributing the Minor Agreements to Mark-Q overlap,” may be intimately connected with the desire to find a plausible historical and social setting for the hypothetical document. While establishing such a context would, of course, offer support to the document’s reconstruction, one must have a definable text in order to begin speculating about the community(ies) that produced and used it. There is a trade-off. The intellectual cost is heavy for affirming a more defined text. In the end the constant appeal to coincidentally common editorial changes of Q by Mt and Lk to explain the MAs – “championed first and foremost by Frans Neirynck” – is tantamount “to say[ing] in the end that there really is no problem after all” (Perrin 2004: 77). A corollary impulse seems to be for reconstructing an alleged “pure” literary macro-form: a collection of sayings, pitted against both narrative texts and miracles, whether in some hypothetical collection of miracles or in Mk. Finally, when contemporary scholarship has opted to set aside Papias’ testimony of the logia, the original impetus for finding a source of sayings material, one is left to wonder whether the trend to make Q look as close as possible to a sayings source is not, to some extent, a vicarious hankering after a delicacy that is truly appetising only to someone else’s palette. 3. Alternative hypotheses I now turn to consider the one previous study of miracle stories in relation to the Synoptic Problem. I give it detailed attention, since to a considerable extent it involves responses and in order to highlight some important differences of approach between that study and the present one. Reid (2011) seeks to test the effectiveness of the three “main” hypotheses, the 2DH, the FH and the Two Gospel Hypothesis (hereafter 2GH; it assumes Matthean priority and Mark’s use of Luke). Reid does this by looking at miracle tradition, primarily stories, in a specific gospel whose presumed redactional activity is key to the relevant hypothesis – thus, Mt, Lk and Mk, respectively. His premise is that adopting a “synchronic reading” to determine features that are important in a given gospel is crucial for evaluating alleged redactional activity assuming a given hypothesis. This is commendable. However, he ultimately follows a 40 Weiss also envisioned Mk to be dependent on Q. Hultgren’s (2002: 34) assessment of Weiss’ accomplishment is worth reproducing: “...Weiss’s essay of 1861 is a small masterpiece of synoptic criticism” despite the fact that in the “defense of Markan priority... Weiss boldly broke with the conventional view that the logia source must be confined to sayings material... Weiss was the last (and arguably the greatest) of the German source critics.”

State of the Question

507

line of inquiry common to most redaction-critical studies, namely, identifying “themes” that are allegedly important to a given gospel. Though he speaks of narrative criticism, his analysis fails to account for how a gospel’s narrative unfolds. Beginning with the 2GH, Reid’s (2011: 304; emphasis original) premise is: “Despite less teaching content than Matthew and Luke, Mark nevertheless highlights Jesus as a teacher in relation to vocabulary statistics… and christology [i.e., in relation to miracle tradition].” In this premise and in the analysis that follows his focus is on a presumed “theme” that is important to Mk, not, for example, the plot. 41 It is not the case that the miracle stories in Mk systematically aid in the characterisation of Jesus at a great teacher (see above, Section Q of Chapter Two). 42 At any rate, his discussion of Mk does not give attention to responses. His analysis of Mt and Lk, on the other hand, involves responses to a large extent. To assess Mt’s use of Mk, assuming the 2DH, Reid (2011: 308) focuses “on the problem of order in Mt 8–9.” He engages Alistair StewartSykes’ argument, which employs a narrative critical reading, “whereby ‘reactions to Jesus’ (e.g., criticism by Pharisees; amazement of crowds; faith of those healed) is cited as the organizing principle of this section” (Reid 2011: 309). Reid (2011: 311) concludes that Stewart-Sykes’ narrative critical reading is “inadequate.” 43 Reid’s alternative reading of Mt 8–9 envisages a plot “understood specifically as an unfolding conflict between Jesus and the religious authorities” while Jesus offers “‘salvation to Israel through ministry of teaching, preaching, and healing.’” 44 Reid’s narrative critical analysis of Mt, relying on the work of Kingsbury and others, is on better footing than his 41

The one “literary critical reading” Reid (2011: 304, n. 26) refers to is Broadhead (1992). For a critique of Broadhead’s understanding of the miracle stories in Mk as primarily interested in Jesus as a teacher, see Section A of Chapter Two, above. Unfortunately, the many other narrative-critical works on Mk that exist are not engaged. 42 Reid (2011: 307) notes that on the assumption of the 2GH the presumed dual motif of miracle and teaching “is sometimes taken over from his sources… sometimes deliberately added… and sometimes omitted” and, thus “the evidence is somewhat inconclusive” as to whether an analysis of the miracle stories in Mk support the 2GH. 43 Reid (2011: 310) notes, “Given Matthew’s otherwise conservative approach to Mark [i.e. with respect to order] these changes are all the more significant in calling forth explanation of his procedure.” He astutely observes the conundrum of “the deletion of Mk 1,21– 28 where a focus on the crowds [sic] amazement (inclusio in verses 21 and 28) is consistent with Stuart-Sykes’ proposed thematic centre of ‘reactions to Jesus’” (Reid 2011: 310). Another keen observation follows: “Even more problematic is the omission of the leper’s response insofar as it runs counter to Matthew’s purported focal interest in reactions to Jesus. Reactions are likewise omitted in relation to the Gadarene demoniacs... and the raising of Jairus’ daughter...” (Reid 2011: 311). 44 Reid 2011: 311, citing Kingsbury 1992: 347.

508

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

analysis of Mk. Reid’s reading could have benefitted from discussion of the high point in the series of 10 miracle stories, namely the concluding story in which both the crowds and the Pharisees respond, with the latter expressing a very negative sentiment. Reid’s analysis might have also shown more attentiveness to how interactions with Jesus by characters who receive a more positive portrayal than the religious authorities can still also be inadequate. In Reid’s (2011: 312) evaluation the reading he proposes “provides little relief” to the problems inherent in assuming Mt’s changes to the order of stories found in Mk: “...Matthew 8–9 presents a problem for MP [i.e. Markan priority] that is yet to be explained in a satisfactory manner.” But the case for 2DH Mt’s redaction of the Markan order of miracle stories is not as weak as he suggests. 45 Naturally, the analysis to follow in the present chapter can give 45 Reid (2011: 311), who sees the “eventual rejection of him [Jesus]... foreshadowed in the controversy stories of 9,1–8.32–34” only, misses some important contexts in Mt 8–9 in which characters other than the religious authorities fail to respond to Jesus’ miracles or to react to him, more broadly speaking, positively. (See above, Section Q of Chapter Three.) Given a more limited notion of conflict, Reid (2011: 312) identifies two main problem points for 2DH Mt 8–9: “...the need for doublets at 9,27–35 remains somewhat problematic and the changes associated with 8,1–15 are even more troublesome.” The versions of doublets found in ch. 9 are, in each case, the better of two options for creating tension. They do this focusing on the inappropriateness of responses to Jesus – the two healed from blindness, despite their display of faith, disobey Jesus (9.31) and the response of the Pharisees (9.34), who fare even worse, is the closing sentence of the whole series of miracle (and other) stories in Mt 8–9. The two healed from blindness near Jericho respond positively, by following Jesus (20.34c). Placing such a story in ch. 9 would destroy the effect that is created by its counterpart. Jesus replies at length, criticising his opponents, following an exorcism and the Pharisees’ second response in which they accuse Jesus of collusion with Beelzebul (12.24). Their earlier accusation is left unanswered by Jesus. By hanging on the lips of the Pharisees at the close of the series of miracles in chs. 8–9, the accusation is brought to the fore, serving the development of the opposition plot line. The question will be answered by him, but in due time. As for Mt (8.1–15) omitting Mk 1.21–28, the story’s setting may provide the key. Mt only has one miracle story take place in a synagogue (Mt 12.9–14 || Mk 3.16). There the response (of the Pharisees alone) is extremely antagonistic (Mt 12.14 || Mk 3.6). Jesus’ other interaction in a synagogue (13.53–58) is also centred on conflict, now with those from his home town, with Jesus performing few miracles. The setting of the synagogue is employed in Mt, then, primarily as a location for conflict (see also 10.17; 23.34; cf. 6.2, 5; 23.6), despite earlier summary statements of Jesus teaching and healing in synagogues (4.23; 9.35), which raises the question of what actually takes place in these locations. An initial miracle story in a synagogue in which Jesus performs an exorcism that is somewhat warmly, albeit inadequately, received by a crowd would not seem to fit Matthean usage of the synagogue setting. The omission of the story seems to be Reid’s (2011: 312, n. 66) principal objection to the “particularly problematic” inclusion of “the Gentile story.” Mt 8.5–13 is actually as focused on Jesus’ (words criticising his) Galilean compatriots as on the centurion. Not only the (amount and) content of Jesus’ speech in its context (8.10b–12; compare also Lk 7.9) indicates this, but

State of the Question

509

only limited attention to issues around the relative order of miracle stories, owing to the focus on responses. Reid has shown that considering the Synoptic Problem from this angle is a promising endeavour, when reading the narrative of a given gospel on its own terms first, in order to follow and understand how it unfolds, and then seeking to assess the cogency of a particular hypothesis by imagining the logic behind presumed editorial changes. Reid looks at the miracle stories in Lk to assess the explanatory effectiveness of the FH, in contradistinction to the 2DH, with Lk using Mt as a source. Unfortunately, Reid follows the approach he adopted for analysing Mk, assuming that a “theme” is a guiding principle behind redaction of Lukan miracle stories. Reid (2011: 313) posits that “validation” is “a synchronically thematic concern whereby miracles represented divine approval of both message and messenger.” Such an approach has the feel of a redaction-critical study and it is not surprising that he cites Paul Achtemeier’s work in support of the “theme.” 46 Reid (2011: 319) concludes that the results of the analysis are ambiguous: “In sum, upon applying the validation theme to the FH, the evidence is favorable in relation to matters of order, problematic in relation to the Great Omission (a problem shared with all MP [Markan Priority] advocates), and inconclusive in relation to the MAs” (319). Responses are integral to the envisaged validation theme in Lukan miracle stories. While, to his credit, Reid (2011: 313) allows that responses do not uniquely serve the purposes of validation, he lumps responses into two polarised categories: “miracles… frequently elicit positive responses of amazement, fear or praise of God... albeit negative reactions are not uncommon....” 47 The discussion that Reid dedicates to a few individual instances shows an approach with a little more nuance. When he turns to treat MAs, Reid considers Lk 5.15, 5.26 and 8.25 (and their parallels in Mt and Mk). For the present purposes it is not crucial to evaluate his analysis of FH Lk per se. His assessment of “the leper’s disobedient response (Mk 1,45)” (Reid 2011: 318) shows sensitivity to the characterisation resulting from employing in this context the response motif of reporting, which in other contexts can be positively portrayed to varying extents. His discussion of emotions in responses, however, shows less sensitivity to variation in the use of responses. Reid’s (2011: 318) claim that “the added ‘fear’ motif in Lk 5,26 heightens the sense of reaction to the healing” is good as far as it goes. However, he offers also his amazement (Mt 8.10a; cf. 7.28) does. On this point see again the discussion above, in Section Q of Chapter Three. 46 See the discussion of Achtemeier’s redactional study of Lukan miracle stories above, in Section A of Chapter Four. 47 Similar is Reid’s (2011: 316) reference to “responses of faith, praise and wonder” as one of the “Luke-friendly themes” in certain miracle stories in Mt that are omitted in Lk, assuming the FH.

510

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

no justification for why fear in this context should be portrayed as positive, though this is an implicit claim. 48 More problematic is Reid’s (2011: 318) claim that Lk’s “addition of ‘they marveled’ (ἐθαύμασαν) at Lk 8,25 emphasizes the disciples’ reaction to the storm stilling....” He offers no justification for how adding amazement to fear would result in an emphasis in the story on the disciples’ response. 49 Finally, Reid’s discussion of agreement between Mk and Lk against Mt involving two responses (Mt 9.8; 9.26) shows a similar mixture of attention and lack of attention to detail. The approach of the present study – whether in Section R of Chapters Three and Four, above, or in the analysis to follow – improves on that of Reid in three ways. Analysis of the Synoptic Gospels, given the different hypotheses, proceeds with more attention to how responses – especially those with similar components – can function differently in the contexts of different stories. Related, more attention is given to comparison between characters in different stories and, especially, the unfolding of the narrative. Lastly, the present study looks not only at stories in which Jesus performs healings, but also epiphany stories. As analysis in previous chapters has shown, an important relation between healing and exorcism stories (and other stories of miracles Jesus performs) and epiphany stories exists in each Synoptic Gospel. The responses are often part and parcel of what ties the stories together. I forego summarising here the arguments made in the preceding chapters for the 2DH, against the 2GH and the FH. These arguments will be modified as is necessary, below, in light of this chapter’s analysis. II. The interrelations of all four gospels There are three basic models for envisaging the interrelations of Jn and the Synoptics. 50 The first model, dominant until about the Second World War, 48 Note though that Reid (2011: 313) sees Lk 8.37 as one of the “negative reactions,” demonstrating his recognition that fear is not always a positive response, though he does not mention the emotion specifically in this context. 49 On the contrary, assuming FH, Lk’s inclusion of Mk’s ἐφοβήθησαν φόβον μέγαν (4.41), without reference to amazement, would have made the disciples’ response more profound. For it would be more similar to that of the crowd near Nain (Lk 7.16) and, importantly, to that of the shepherds’ earlier (2.9). This would likely, in effect, reduce the force of the question the disciples’ ask (8.25), which is revisited a number of times in quick succession leading up to Jesus’ own question of the disciples regarding his identity (9.20a). The disciples’ amazement in 8.25, accompanying their question, both of which lie in contrast to the fear and pronouncement of the crowd near Nain, shows that the disciples still have a way to go in order to achieve their recognition of Jesus, despite the fact that they are being made privy to more grand displays of power. 50 For helpful surveys of the topic see Dvorak (1998), Smith (2001) and Moloney (2012a; 2012b).

State of the Question

511

sees Jn as literarily dependent on one (Mk) or more of the Synoptics in a direct manner. Proponents focus especially on: similarities between Mk and Jn 6 (Mackay 2004) or 18–20 (Perrin and Duling 1982; Lang 1999); 51 and the order of key passages in Mk and Jn (Barrett 1978; Neirynck 1992). 52 However, decisive evidence in favour of direct literary dependence is far from forthcoming, with the similarities between Mk and Jn being considerably inferior qualitatively to the verbatim agreements among any two of the Synoptic Gospels. Some see Jn as dependent also on Lk (Barrett 1978; Lang 1999) or both Lk and Mt (Neirynck 1992). Meager evidence is marshalled for dependence on Lk – four names of individuals, a number of minor details and some similar themes. “Minor agreements” between Jn and Mt in material shared also with Mk are used to support the thesis of dependence on Mt. The methodology supporting the model – which has been called the “Leuven Hypothesis” by some (e.g. van Belle 2007: 333–334; Zumstein 2008: 130), owing to the energetic work and influence of those at the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven, especially Frans Neirynck – places great emphasis on the creativity of the author of Jn and assumes that a minimum of “sources” should be postulated, while minimising the possible influence of oral tradition. 53 A problem here is a fundamental misconception of oral tradition as being one “source,” situated among the other, literary sources. One of the greatest problems of the hypothesis of direct literary dependence is the number and kind of dissimilarities between Jn and the Synoptics. 54 Some would see Jn being dependent on Mk, if for nothing else, for the literary genre, especially the basic narrative outline. 55 But this assumption supporting the argument could be challenged on the basis of a better understanding of the type of oral tradition and social memory that likely existed among the early followers of Jesus. Another model sees Jn as quasi-dependent on one or more of the Synoptics. Direct literary dependence is not in view, but more distant contact and less detailed interaction. Jean Zumstein (2008a: 130) sees Jn in an “indirect relationship to the Synoptic Gospels, particularly the Gospel of Mark” and 51 Perrin and Duling (1982) argue for Markan redactional material appearing in Jn. For a succinct summary of the problems in identifying such material in Mk see Dvorak (1998: 202–203). 52 Barrett (1978), followed by Neirynck (1992), claims that the similar order of 10 key portions of text indicate Jn’s dependence on Mk. 53 For example, Neirynck (1992: 14) does not want “to exclude John’s use of oraltradition of source material” for “supplementary information,” though de facto he gives little space to consideration of oral tradition. Van Belle (2007: 336) claims, “[T]he language and style of the Gospel of John are so homogenous... that it is impossible to distinguish alternative sources or traditions apart from the Synoptics.” 54 Cf. Brown 1966–1970:1: xlv; Smith 1992: 39. 55 For a helpful, brief discussion of positions on this topic, see Smith (2008: 144–155).

512

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

speaks of “John’s reception of the Synoptic Gospels,” which “was distanced and free.” Others, allow for similar possibilities. Michael Labahn (1999; 2000) and Barnabas Lindars envisage contact mediated through secondary orality. 56 Zumstein (2008a: 135) sees the role of the Synoptics to be, nevertheless, crucial: the public reading of Jn “as an intertext puts a premium on the competence of the readers [sic]. The text’s meaning… emerges through a dialectical interplay…” with the Synoptics, among other texts. 57 Thus, relocating Jesus’ provocative act in the Temple to the beginning of his ministry means that the imminent hour of Jesus’ crucifixion is invoked from the narrative’s inception (Zumstein 2008a: 130–131). 58 Paul Anderson’s (1996) approach is similar enough to the foregoing to warrant mention here. While affirming that the tradition accessed by Jn is primarily independent of the synoptic tradition, 59 he sees a proposed first edition of Jn written, in dialogue with Mk, as an augmentation, correction and complement to the earliest gospel. 60 A third model understands the similarities between Jn and the Synoptics to be the result of reliance on related oral tradition. Charles Harold Dodd (1963) and Raymond Brown (1966–1970) envision the oral tradition drawn upon by Jn to be essentially independent from, though similar to, that lying behind the

56 “It could be the case that John had a general familiarity with all the Synoptic accounts, which became merged in the retelling. There must be many preachers who have done this” (Lindars et al. 2000: 48). Labahn sees the author of Jn as dependent on oral versions of material derived from the Synoptics, while probably also drawing on some knowledge of the Synoptics from memory. The situation for the pair of miracle stories in Jn 6 is in Labahn’s (2000: 275–276) view particularly complex, with multiple stages of development. The (e.g. public) reading of the Markan stories leads to the pair being transmitted orally, whereby it undergoes changes; then it the new version is put down in writing; additions are made to it; it is taken up (in its written form) by the author of Jn; and, finally, through the process of “Relecture” further elements are added to the relevant text within the Gospel. 57 Zumstein’s (2008a: 130) emphasis is on “[r]eaders who are familiar with the Synoptics,” not on listening audiences. 58 Donald A. Carson’s understanding of the “interlocking” connections between Jn and the Synoptics bears some similarity to Zumstein’s approach. For example, in light of Jn’s omission of the Synoptics’ exorcism stories, Jn’s more reflective and also broader references to the activity of “the devil” can be better understood as “a theology of the devil” (Carson 1991: 53–54). For Carson (1991: 51), the author of Jn probably read both Mk and Lk (possibly Mt also), but did not “consult them, or at least he did not make verbatim use of them,” in writing “his own book.” 59 For example, Anderson (1996) sees similarities between Jn 6 and Mk 6 and 8 as the result of reliance on similar oral tradition. 60 For Anderson, the alleged initial version of Jn influenced, in turn, Lk.

State of the Question

513

Synoptics. 61 Peder Borgen (1987; 1990; 1992; 2002) contends that such a model accounts well for the occasional verbal agreements between Jn and the Synoptics, using as an analogy the agreements and disagreements between Mk 14 and 1 Corinthians 10–11 for the last supper. Proponents of this model often allow that the author of Jn may have had some knowledge of the Synoptics. But supplementing, correcting, or displacing the Synoptics is not the principle goal of the author of Jn, nor is direct literary dependence involved. 62 For others the oral tradition Jn is indebted to is essentially held in common with the Synoptics. James Dunn (2011b: 183; emphasis original) argues that, while “John clearly knew the same sort of tradition known to and used by the Synoptic Evangelists,” the differences between Jn and the Synoptics for similar material are indebted to the fact that the author of Jn, feeling less constrained by the tradition, attempts to present a “fuller and deeper reflection on what Jesus stood for and achieved….” In a similar vein is Tom Thatcher’s (2011) approach to the composition of the prologue of Jn based oraltraditional material about John the Baptiser shared with the Synoptics. At the same time, Dunn argues, Jn can reproduce traditional material which the Synoptics pass over for various reasons, such as the period of overlap between the activities of Jesus and John the Baptiser. Recent approaches to oral tradition well account for similarities between the narrative outlines of Jn and the Synoptics (especially Mk), respectively. Dunn (2011b: 160) correctly challenges the validity of the argument that Jn relies on Mk for the narrative framework of Jesus’ life (lit. “the Gospel format” or “Gospel shape”) – namely, his ministry, beginning with his baptism by his forerunner, involving teaching and miracles and leading “towards the culmination of Jesus’s death and resurrection.” He (Dunn 2011b: 162) states: So long as we avoid the unjustified and misleading impression that the Jesus tradition existed orally only in fragmentary aphoristic forms or small collections of teaching material or of stories about Jesus (a key mistake of the Jesus Seminar…), then it becomes entirely plausible that the earliest tradents regularly retold the Jesus tradition conscious of the Gospel shape of the material as a whole….

If a particular oral performance of a given story could invoke the larger contours of Jesus’ adult life, then it would not be a huge stretch for an author drawing on such traditional material to compose a gospel. 63 More detailed consideration of recent research on oral tradition, as well as social memory, is needed. To this I now turn. 61

Brown (2003: 98) sees this position as constituting “a very small majority by the end of the [20th] century....” For a helpful review of Dodd’s position, see Thatcher (2013). 62 Schnelle 1992: 1813–1814; Brown 2003: 101; Smith 2008: 111, 143; Moloney 2012b: 422. 63 Similarly, see Smith (2008: 144–155).

514

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

III. Oral tradition For decades if not a century New Testament scholarship has enjoyed a near consensus that stories were told about Jesus orally, along with other material, before they were written down. Yet the peculiar fact is that the same scholars have tended not to take the nature of this oral tradition seriously for understanding the Gospels, especially their interrelations. This situation is the result, in large part, of the lingering influence of the methodologically flawed model of oral tradition employed by the form critics. The force of these observations pertain especially to the miracle stories. Indeed, many scholars operate on the assumption that, given the 2DH, the miracle stories that are the most likely candidates to have derived, in part or in whole, from the oral tradition are those in Q and (some of those) in Mk. For those stories of the miraculous found uniquely in Mt, Lk or Jn, the respective authors, it is assumed, have essentially created new material. Recent studies of the Jesus tradition in light of modern theories of oral tradition, as well as social memory, would call into question the simplicity of this overall picture. 64 As with their ideas on other topics, the perspective of Bultmann and Dibelius on oral tradition has had a significant influence on New Testament scholarship. As noted, the form critics understood the Jesus tradition to develop from individual units, through collections of related material, to the Gospels. Only the passion narratives differed in nature from the rest of the material. The individual units, according to these scholars, were formed and transmitted orally in an anonymous and impersonal manner. The material originated according to laws of folklore, without constraints from within the Jesus tradition itself through, for example, potentially distinctive features. While all of the foregoing points can and have been challenged for good reason, points that remain useful from these scholars’ inaugural work include that the individual units would have had an active life in the gatherings of the early followers of Jesus, whether for purposes of preaching, as they often assumed, or to serve other functions. The material chosen for inclusion in the oral tradition would have been material helpful for the life of the community. Yet the weaknesses of the form critics’ model far outweigh the aid it proffers. 65 Unfortunately, despite some challenges to the paradigm along the way, it is only beginning in the 1990s that a scholarly critical mass looks elsewhere. Offering in many respects a diametrically opposed picture, Birger Gerhardsson (1961; 1986) argued that, in an analogy with rabbis and their stu64 Two recent books – Eve (2014) and Rodríguez (2014) – offer excellent surveys of research on the oral tradition about Jesus. I rely on these works substantially, especially Eve (2014), in the brief review of literature below. 65 For a summary of key problems, some of which are mentioned in the forewoing, see Eve (2014: 27–32).

State of the Question

515

dents in a later period, Jesus taught his disciples directly and in fixed forms, ensuring they committed his teachings to memory through rote repetition. 66 Beyond this formal means of transmission, the oral tradition about Jesus may well have been used in more public gatherings of the nascent Jesus movement or in dialogue with outsiders. Among the strengths of Gerhardsson’s thesis is his emphasis on the importance of memory – a topic later scholarship will frequently return to. His point is well taken that the oral tradition about Jesus was too important to leave to chance memory. Indeed, the Gospels portray Jesus as instructing his disciples personally, not merely through their hearing him address the larger public. And Gerhardsson rightly points to the historical probability that authoritative figures played a distinct role in relation to the oral tradition about Jesus. 67 Gerhardsson’s stress on continuity in the oral tradition, too, is a worthy point. Yet he overstates the case. One clear example is when he contends that the way Jesus’ disciples committed to memory the particular narrative forms they adopted for stories of their teacher’s deeds involved the same officiousness with which carefully formulated teaching material was learned. Ultimately, Gerhardsson, like his form-critical predecessors, still views oral tradition as something insufficiently distinct from scribal practices. This is related in part to his overemphasis of the similarities between the Jesus tradition and rabbinic practice, attested to in later sources. 68 And, though he unlike the form critics gives due attention to forms of pedagogy at work in the first-century Greco-Roman and Mediterranean world, his emphasis on practices associated with the literary elite is overstated. 69 66 In Gerhardsson’s view Jesus’ disciples in turn handed on his teachings in a similarly careful manner to those in the next generation who were to bear the tradition, though some changes inevitably occurred. 67 Eve’s (2014: 45) agreement with Gerhardsson on this point is worth citing at length: “It would be odd indeed if the Twelve ceased to have any function within a year or two of Jesus’ death or if certain persons did not come to have much more control over the tradition and others; the notion that folk traditions about Jesus simply emerged from an anonymous egalitarian community probably owes more to romanticism than to the kind of social realities in which some people compete for power and influence, and others look up to those whom they regard as authoritative.” 68 Regarding parables, Gerhardsson correctly notes some similarities between Jesus and the rabbis in the type of teaching material involved. However, other rabbinic material is more closely related to written texts – whether regarding halakhic rulings or scriptural interpretation – than much material in the Jesus tradition. Another difference is the relatively brief time lapse in the Jesus tradition for the transmission of oral tradition prior to (some of) it being committed to writing. 69 While Gerhardsson correctly notes that in Paul one finds the language of handing on, receiving and holding fast to tradition, these elements seem to be specifically Pauline (Eve 2014: 41).

516

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

Werner Kelber’s (1983) understanding of oral tradition constitutes, to some extent, a middle ground between the extremes of the form critics and Gerhardsson, respectively. Eric Eve (2014: 65) describes it as “an enormous step forward.” Drawing on the work of folklorists and social anthropologists, Kelber gives due attention to the distinctiveness of oral tradition in relation to written texts. Whereas an author has considerable distance from her/his readers and thus more autonomy, oral tradition is transmitted in the presence of an audience. It is constrained, therefore, in terms of both the way material is related – employing phrases and patterns conducive to being remembered – and what is related – to be remembered, the material at hand must pertain to the needs of the audience. Oral tradition is marked by both stability and variability. There are multiple and varied performances of the same basic material. What is essential is retained, though in any given performance other features may be added, removed or changed in other ways. The development of the synoptic material is, thus, far from a linear process. Oral tradition is not to be understood as just one other (monolithically conceived) source, among the various written sources. These points can all be embraced in large part. So too can Kelber’s assessment that Jesus’ own teaching, transmitted by his disciples, was the origin of the oral tradition surrounding him. Still, a number of problems plague Kelber’s thesis, which has been criticised especially for the chasm it envisages between written and oral media. Kelber also overstates the preferences Paul (against written medium) and Mark (against oral medium) have. Kelber’s picture of the assumed disinterest in historicity found within oral tradition is over-pronounced. Finally, his approach, called a “morphological approach” by Rafael Rodríguez, is unduly fixed on mnemonic patterns and devices in oral tradition. Such analysis is actually incapable of determining whether a given unit of text is a transcript of an oral performance or an original written composition, created by someone with close familiarity with the contours of oral tradition. Kenneth Bailey’s (1995) approach – seeing in the Jesus tradition an “informal controlled oral tradition” – constitutes another mid-way point between that of the form critics (“informal uncontrolled”) and Gerhardsson (“formal controlled”). Despite the anecdotal nature of Bailey’s reflections, based upon over three decades of personal observation, they are illuminating of how specific social mechanisms in the life of a traditional Middle Eastern village preserve what is considered essential in its oral tradition. In the Haflat samar, an evening gathering in which a community preserves its store of tradition, varying levels of control are in place for the various types of material performed. Though there are no officially designated bearers or performers of tradition, “[t]he ranking social/intellectual figure,” such as “the ranking patriarch,” typically do the reciting (Bailey 1995: 6, 7). The community – notably the elders – intervenes directly, if the essential aspects of traditional parables and historical accounts being performed are omitted or altered. Thus, at the

State of the Question

517

same time, some flexibility is allowed. Bailey offers a concrete example of a social context in which the stability of an oral tradition’s core can be maintained, albeit in an informal manner, across multiple performances, while also allowing for variation in peripheral matters. Notably, the traditions at stake are those important for the community’s identity – a point that others’ discussion of Bailey’s work has brought into sharper focus. Rafael Rodríguez (2010; 2014) shows how insights from theory of social memory – of which New Testament scholarship has previously taken little account – can be profitably applied to understanding the oral tradition of the Jesus tradition. Because of this territory being unfamiliar to many, I summarise his position at some length here. Observing that remembering takes place in a social context, Rodríguez argues that not only do the needs of the present influence the memory of the past, but also the past exerts a sustained influence on later acts of remembering it. On the one hand, for example, “every act of historical interpretation and (re)shaping of the past” (Rodríguez 2010: 49) involves the selection of a specific sequence of events, such that discontinuity with the past necessarily results, even if simply on account of the lack of comprehensiveness. On the other hand, continuity with the past persists, as attested by points agreed upon by competing visions of the past. 70 Rodríguez (2010: 57) adopts Barry Schwartz’s “double model of framing and keying to analyse how the past is put to use in the present.” (I discuss framing later, in relation to Eric Eve, as Rodríguez devotes more space to keying.) Keying is a process by which some past event or image is linked to a current event or issue in order to recognise and interpret the latter. It helps preserve the past. 71 Such processes help to fix a “stable core” of memory of the past “that resists restructuring at the whims of the present,” while, notably, not only the past but also “previous conceptualizations of the past… figure in the ‘stable core’…” (Rodríguez 2010: 62). Beyond this core, peripheral elements are modified according to the needs of the present, whether through addition, emphasis, stripping or neglect. Also through the “social construction” of a “reputation,” that is “a socially recognized persona,” the present can preserve elements of the past. This is true particularly for difficult reputations (those 70

“But even groups with conflicting interests typically agree on the broad strokes of history; their images of the past are reflective of, but not determined by, their interests in the present... ‘Without this commonality, we would have not just different sequences but, rather, altogether different histories.’” (Rodríguez 2010: 49–50; citing Nachman BenYehuda). Relying on the theory of Barry Schwartz, Rodríguez observes two important ways the past influences the present: through templates, which organise and animate behaviour; and through frames, within which individuals give meaning to their current experiences. 71 “This process not only renders current significant issues meaningful, but it distorts those issues in order to conform them to images of the past” (Rodríguez 2010: 57).

518

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

neither dominantly heroic or villainous), such as Jesus’ reputation as a miracle worker among society at large. (And perhaps, by implication, Rodríguez sees Jesus as having a difficult reputation among his followers, too, after his ignoble execution.) 72 Continuity with the past can be maintained also when an ambiguous or problematic reputation is salvaged in social memory, since “[c]hanges in cultural logic may account for the widespread acceptance of a formerly difficult past” (Rodríguez 2010: 78). Other factors, such as “competition between rival definitions and conceptualizations of the past also limit the extent to which the past is susceptible to being made over” (Rodríguez 2010: 61). As for oral tradition, Rodríguez (2014: 72) promotes a “contextual approach” (in contrast to the “morphological approach” of Kelber and others), in which he “posits the oral expression of tradition as the context within which the written NT [New Testament] texts developed and were written by authors, recited by lectors (and/or oral performers), and received by audiences (and/or readers).” Drawing on the work of John Miles Foley, Rodríguez (2014: 73) understands performances of oral tradition – “oral-traditional works of verbal art” – to employ words, phrases, allusions, images and typescenes “whose meaning existed before she [the performer] began to speak….” The inherent meaning of what is said has more intrinsic weight than any potential conferred meaning, since performers “rely on their audiences to understand their oral text in light of the preexisting, circumambient tradition that provides [its] essential context…” (Rodríguez 2014: 75). Still, depending upon one’s skill, a performer can imbue the tradition with some distinctive interpretations and flavour. Combining insights from theory of social memory and oral tradition, Rodríguez offers a fruitful model for understanding the Jesus tradition. Repeated oral performance of material in the Jesus tradition, he argues, brought about stability, creating a circumambient tradition in which further performances would be understood. I propose that the tradition’s stability and variability is rooted in early Christian memory, [namely] the memory of Jesus’ teaching and healing activity in Galilee [sic] as well as the memory of various performances (i.e., retellings) of that activity and the force those performances exerted on the community itself (Rodríguez 2010: 85; emphasis original).

Stability does not come through identical verbal expressions or sequential structures – here the difference from Kelber comes to the fore – though, Rodríguez (2010: 88) concedes, “certain words, phrases, scenes and themes” may become “salient aspects of the tradition.” Rather, for any given oraltraditional text, such as a miracle story, stability comes through the identity 72

See Eve 2014: 126.

State of the Question

519

of its essential content: “The tradition is the story; the tradition is the memory” (Rodríguez 2010: 85). Here the similarities with Bailey’s approach can be seen. Stability in the Jesus tradition as a whole comes also from consonance with Jesus’ reputation in the community. The contours of the larger narrative framework assumed within the circumambient oral tradition may also contribute to stability in the tradition. Eve (2014: 123; cf. 103–107) brings this point to bear with poignancy: [A]nyone hearing an individual miracle would be well aware that the same Jesus performing the healing also told parables, clashed with the authorities, called disciples and was crucified by order of the Roman governor, and would ‘hear’ the story in the light of all those other aspects of Jesus….

Interestingly, Eve stops short here of referring to the community’s experiences of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances. 73 Dunn (2011b: 161, 162), on the other hand, who similarly argues “that the earliest tradents regularly retold the Jesus tradition conscious of the Gospel shape of the material as a whole,” sees this shape as a larger “narrative account… which climaxed in Jesus’s passion,” including both “his death and resurrection.” The question of the contours of this larger narrative framework within the circumambient tradition is a key subject of the analysis to follow. Another pertinent insight from social memory theory pertains to framing. Framing is the application of customary schemata to both the encoding of information to be remembered and the subsequent recollection and explanation or narration of it to oneself and others (Eve 2014: 96). Eve (2014: 96) notes, “Social memory, then, tends to conform to the predominant conceptual frameworks of the group to which it belongs, although the fit can often be imperfect.” Drawing on the work of David Rubin, which takes oral tradition and the psychology of memory to be mutually illuminating, Eve observes that stability in oral tradition is achieved by “cues.” Framing comes into play, for “[c]ues that might aid recall in oral traditions include such obvious things as the overall plot and intermediate structures such as the standard scripts for various kinds of scene” (Eve 2014: 100). It is certainly possible that a social group in which oral performances of related stories, such as miracle stories, habitually occur could not only apply known schemata but also develop them in characteristic ways. Thus, while identifying in a given miracle story the use of a scheme characteristic of the Jesus tradition does not prove that that episode has its origins in oral performances, the preponderance of the scheme throughout the greater body of such stories would constitute strong evidence for the scheme’s origin in the oral tradition.

73

Cf. Rodríguez 2010: 87.

520

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

Previous study of linguistic formulas and recurrent words and phrases in oral and oral-derived works also seem promising for the study of the responses in the Gospels. Eve (2014: 103) discusses John Miles Foley’s concept of “metonymic” allusion, by which “traditional features of oral narrative, such as scenes and story lines,” can evoke “the whole,” as in the overall depiction of some figure’s character. Thus, for example, in oral performance a familiar story line in which a common character, say a crowd, responds demonstrating a lack of proper understanding of who Jesus is could evoke the entire tradition, in which Jesus is not understood by this figure (and others). Also relevant is Foley’s related notion of “word-power,” which comes about when a performance arena is established by the oral performer and audience and an appropriate register is adopted by the performer, thereby enabling “communicative economy.” “Word-power” is: “the power of words [or larger units of speech] to convey far more than their literal surface meaning through the associations they evoke” (Eve 2014: 106). 74 Applied to responses, a reference to amazement, on the one hand, or fear, on the other, just might evoke an entire network of meaning, involving different kinds of miracles, settings, characters and levels of revelation. This possibility will be explored below. Already here, however, it is worth noting that the presence of an amazed response in the one miracle story in Q ([blind-]mute) and, especially, the inversion of the motif in the other story (Capernaum centurion) constitute evidence that, already at an early stage, amazement as a response to a miracle of Jesus was a well-known theme in the circumambient tradition. Turning to the Gospels specifically, positing that they themselves are embedded in the circumambient oral tradition about Jesus, as does Rodríguez, changes significantly the way they are understood. One should recognise, first, that these written texts were far from the whole of the tradition. And the written versions of various material, a given miracle story for example, would have been received by audiences not as definitive accounts of it but merely as particular performances. The Gospels are not the final stage of the oral tradition nor indeed the inevitable end goal of the tradition. The Gospels likely did not surpass the importance of oral-traditional works with any great speed. Equally important, the Gospels are not the sources of the creative activity in the Jesus tradition; rather, they rely fundamentally on previous performances of the material at hand or, even when brand new material is penned, on related stories and teachings.

74 Citing John Miles Foley, Eve (2014: 106) notes that these empowered words function as nodes “in a grand, untextualizable network of traditional associations. Activation of any single node brings into play an enormous wellspring of meaning that can be tapped in no other way.”

State of the Question

521

Rodriquez avers that the composers of the Gospels did not merely use oral tradition: they were likely, themselves, active within it as oral performers. This is an interesting hypothesis that needs further argumentation, though for the Synoptic Gospels the verbatim agreements, at times qualitatively and quantitatively impressive, pose a significant challenge to it for the dependent written texts (Lk and Mt on the 2DH). There may be, however, greater merit to the argument in the case of Jn. This question will be explored below. Furthermore, Rodríguez’s approach drastically affects the way that the Gospels’ interrelations are to be viewed. This is a point that Rodríguez is content to make, generally, but does not pursue. 75 The question arises: to what extent does material in the Gospels – especially the Synoptics – stem primarily from oral tradition, as opposed to arising (merely) from dependence between two written texts? Rodríguez takes it as axiomatic that one cannot identify specific material in the Gospels as representing an oral-traditional text. His reticence may well be grounded. It is difficult in any given case to determine whether one is dealing with, to use extremes, a transcript of an oral performance or a purely literary creation full of oral-traditional features, penned by someone well-versed in the oral tradition. 76 But can one determine broader features of the circumambient oral tradition, such as the nature of Jesus’ reputation, potential keyed stories and the contours of the larger narrative framework concerning him? I will engage this question, using statistical analysis of the responses. Assuming the 2DH, features that are shared across a variety of types of material – TT, DT, material unique to Mk, Mt and Lk – become especially noteworthy. Taking Jn also into account, shared features are of even greater importance, when they pertain to material shared between it and multiple other gospels. The statistical analysis will seek first to determine which trends cannot reasonably be attributed to chance. If not chance but dependence is clearly at play, the question remains as to what degree literary dependence (direct or indirect) or dependence on oral tradition is more likely responsible for the commonalities. The method described above is relevant, first and foremost, for contentbased features, such as the characters that respond, the type of setting and the overall quality of the response. This fact is helpful since complicating issues of language (Greek, Hebrew, Aramaic) – on which, see below – can be bracketed to a greater extent. Alternatively, the possibility that “certain words, phrases, scenes and themes” may become “salient aspects of the tradition” (Rodríguez 2010: 88) is interesting, since, as I have already observed, the miracle stories in the Gospels have a number of formal or semi-formal features in common. If, on the basis of statistical analysis, it turns out that 75 76

Cf. Eve 2014: 130. Similarly, see Eve (2014: 106) on Foley.

522

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

some of these similarities could not have arisen by chance, then it would seem improbable that literary dependence alone would be able to account for them, given the fact that the formal features are used for different purposes – not only by a given author in various contexts, but also by each of the authors in relation to the others. Tradition history, of course, touches upon the significance of an argument from statistics. For only elements of the Gospels that are either unique to them or significantly distinctive of them would constitute grounds for seeing the circumambient oral tradition about Jesus as the likely candidate for influencing the Gospels. The more that a constellation of shared elements among the Gospels is in view, the greater the probability is that the Jesus-specific circumambient tradition bears responsibility for them and not broader traditions for miracle stories. Tradition history is the topic of the next chapter. At any rate, as has long been recognized, tradition-historical parallels to the response motif in the Gospels are not voluminous. At the outset then, probability lies with the hypothesis that what response features are shared by the Gospels are sufficiently distinctive of them. Thus, to observe the sheer preponderance of responses in the gospel miracle stories, in contrast to miracle stories elsewhere, is to acknowledge that a characteristic scheme, applied through framing, is found in them. The acknowledgment would already suggest that the scheme originated within the oral Jesus tradition. In short, the mere frequent presence of the responses is an indication that miracle stories were performed orally among Jesus followers. IV. Issues of language Language issues are important for solving the problem of the interrelations of the Gospels. This is true even if, given the model of oral tradition I adopt here, the following analysis of content-based features occurring across multiple miracle stories can largely proceed without determining whether the relevant oral tradition existed in Hebrew and/or Aramaic – and potentially in Greek too. But considering individual pericope in light of the broad movement of the Jesus tradition from oral tradition in a Semitic language or languages – Hebrew or Aramaic – to the written Greek texts of the Gospels is crucial to the source-critical enterprise. Curiously, Hebrew is very often sidelined or even omitted in such the discussion. It is usually assumed that the earliest oral tradition about Jesus existed in Aramaic (and not in Hebrew). Since in the first century CE Hebrew was only spoken in Palestine / Eretz Yisrael, knowing whether and to what extent there were oral performances of Jesus tradition in Hebrew would contribute to understanding where, when and how the Jesus tradition originated and developed. Some recent studies have shown that key data (non-Septuagintal Hebraisms, especially those that are MAs in the TT) indicate that various material, including material related to

State of the Question

523

miracles, is to some extent derived from or influenced by Hebrew (whether written or spoken). Given the importance of issues of language and the peculiar reluctance in the field to consider Hebrew a spoken language in the period or even an important language to recon with for the interrelations of the Gospels, I will dedicate some space here to the issues. Among New Testament scholars, the importance of Hebrew for the Jesus tradition has been repeatedly raised by members of the Jerusalem School of Synoptic Research, who are perhaps best known for their alternative views on the Synoptic Problem. As the views of neither of the main camps have yet been published in a comprehensive way – some (e.g. Randall Buth, Steven Notley) argue for Lukan independence from Mk; others (e.g. David Bivin, Robert Lindsey and, to some extent, David Flusser) hold that Mk is dependent on Lk – I have opted not to discuss the hypotheses here in any detail. 77 In a recent edited volume, a number of these scholars, alongside those with different takes on the Synoptic Problem, present a strong case, from a variety of angles, for a trilingual “language environment of first century Judaea” (Buth and Notley 2014). In doing this, they provide a service to the New Testament guild, which has been surprisingly slow to accept what has been well acknowledged by Hebraists, namely that Hebrew was a spoken language in first-century Palestine. Bilingualism – use of Aramaic and Hebrew – was not limited to a scholarly elite, but was more broadly at play. Steven Fassberg (2012: 274) writes: For Hebraists, the existence of both Hebrew and Aramaic documents at Qumran and other sites in the Judean Desert, as well as the Hebraisms in the Aramaic documents and the Aramaisms in the Hebrew documents, demonstrate that speakers in Palestine before and after the turn of the Common Era were at least bilingual (in many cases also trilingual with Greek). They also find additional support for Aramaic-Hebrew bilingualism in inscriptions on tombs and ossuaries in Hebrew and Aramaic.

Among the Judean Desert documents are letters in both Hebrew and Aramaic from correspondence within a military chain of command at a time of war.

77

The distinctiveness of these hypotheses is the notion that Hebrew source material lies behind some of the Greek in the Synoptic Gospels. Both camps see a hypothetical, earlier gospel, written in Hebrew and then translated into Greek, as a source for the Synoptic Gospels. Interestingly, Lukan independence theorists essentially hold a view similar to the 2DH, if one assumes Mk’s knowledge of Q and envisages Q as being significantly larger (containing, notably, a passion account). The other camp sees that Mk used Lk, then Mt used Mk (but not Lk), in addition to each of the Synoptics using a Greek narrative source translated from Hebrew (while Lk potentially used yet another Greek source with Hebraic influence) (Lindsey 1963; 1969: 9–84; 1971; 1990). On the development of these Jerusalem School hypotheses and related theories, see Baltes (2011).

524

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

As for spoken Hebrew, Hebraists categorically study the Judean Desert documents and Tannaitic material in light of one another (Fassberg 2012: 273): [T]he linguistic relevance of the Judean Desert documents for the study of Tannaitic Hebrew has been accepted by Hebraists since the publication of the first scrolls: today all works that treat the Hebrew of the Judean Desert documents relate, perforce, also to Tannaitic Hebrew and vice versa.

Like the Hebrew of the documents at Qumran and other sites in the Judean Desert, Tannaitic Hebrew is observed to have been a living language (Fassberg 2012: 275): The heterogeneity of Tannaitic Hebrew known today to Hebraists suggests that it is the product of a language that was widely used and spoken. Had Tannaitic Hebrew been merely a learned language used by just a few for religious and liturgical purposes, it would not be as variegated as we now know it to have been.

Two other bodies of evidence strongly support the idea that the ability to hear and understand Hebrew and likely, by implication, to speak it oneself was widespread in first-century Palestine. The first additional body of evidence concerns translations of Hebrew scriptures into Aramaic or, to be more precise, the lack of such translations. Daniel Machiela’s (2014: 226) analysis of “the classical Targumim” concludes that they are not “relics of Second Temple period Aramaic translations.” The roots of the Targumim are in the second and third centuries CE, though some of the traditions contained in them originated in the earlier period. At any rate, these texts served not as simple translations. Rather they provide interpretation of biblical texts, such that “language choice may be interrelated with the intended exegetical function of targum” (Machiela 2014: 226). Though the evidence for Aramaic translation is slight in the Second Temple period, it fits most comfortably with the idea that knowledge of Hebrew was widespread. While numerous Aramaic documents from this period have been found in the Judean Desert, no evidence for Aramaic translation of Hebrew sacred texts exists, other than for the book of Job and, probably, excerpts from Leviticus. 78 Yet numerous copies of Hebrew biblical texts

78 Aramaic Job (two copies: 4Q157, 11Q10) and 4Q156, which is either “a translation of the book of Leviticus” or, more plausibly, “an Aramaic work which simply incorporates verses from Leviticus (whether liturgical, anthological, or ‘rewritten scripture’)...” (Machiela 2014: 237). Machiela (2014: 228–230) emphasises that these texts consisting of or incorporating translations of biblical texts are a different kind of text than the later, exegetical Targumim.

State of the Question

525

date to the period. 79 On the assumption that Hebrew was not spoken or aurally understood by a broad spectrum of society, it becomes very difficult to explain these data. On the contrary, “the absence of translation serves as yet another indicator that Hebrew was alive and well in Palestine” (Machiela 2014: 215) in the 1st century CE. 80 A second body of evidence pertains to parables. As R. Steven Notley and Ze’ev Safrai (2011) note, all extant story parables from ancient Jewish sages exist in Hebrew. This is true even when the story parables are found in Aramaic texts (!) – a language switch occurs and the parable is given in Hebrew. The sheer number of parables (417) involved makes this a remarkable, uniform trend. 81 The distribution of the parables in Jewish works also reveals a tell-tale trend: “Parables are typical of rabbinical literature and the New Testament. They are not found in other types of literature, not in the Dead Sea Scrolls, mystical literature or other various types of post-biblical literature of the Second Jewish Commonwealth...” (Notley and Safrai 2011: 6). Nor are parables common in non-Jewish literature. While the occasional parable appears in Greek and Roman literature, parables are nowhere utilised “in a central and systematic fashion” (Notley and Safrai 2011: 6) in works of Greek or Latin, including the Church Fathers. 82 Thus, use of parables is a feature shared between the Gospels and rabbinic literature alone. This fact on its own already suggests the high degree of probability that, if Jesus originally told one or more parables in a semitic language, that language was Hebrew (and not Aramiac). But more can be said. Jesus’ parables and those of other Jewish sages have common themes and a shared Sitz im Leben. As to the former, Notley and Safrai (2011: 1) observe: The similarity between rabbinical parables and those of Jesus is observed first and foremost in their narrative descriptions... such as a man and his workers... fools who are not prepared for a banquet, and others.

From the fact that few rabbinic parables serve halakhic purposes (21 of 417) and from the disdain for parables by the ancient educated elite for serious study of the Torah, one can reasonably conclude with Notley and Safrai (Not79

Tov (2012: 96–97) provides a complete listing of some 210–212 “biblical scrolls found at Qumran.” These “biblical texts constitute 22% (not counting the tefillin and mezuzot)” of the “some 930 texts” (Tov 2012: 95). 80 Machiela (2014: 215) also addresses the “one ambiguous translation (Tobit), either from Hebrew to Aramaic or Aramaic to Hebrew, with the second option being plausible, if not preferable....” 81 Notley and Safrai (2011) cull the parables from 22 rabbinic texts. 82 Collections of fables existed in classical literature. However, “we have no texts that systematically use parables for ideological or narrative purposes in the course of their writing” (Notley and Safrai 2011: 6).

526

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

ley and Safrai 2011: 35) that the most probable Sitz im Leben of the parable is the sage’s “teaching Torah to the masses with the more popular sermon.” This is similar to the frequent (but not exclusive) context of Jesus’ parables as presented in the Gospels – teaching to the crowds. Analysis of the data collectively would suggest that the story parable was a form of communication allowing for (if not intended for) accessibility by all levels of society. The roots of the trend are in the Second Temple period. Did Jesus use parables while teaching to the masses in Hebrew? To make an unduly cautious inference from the data, it would be highly improbable that Jesus, unlike his contemporaries, never told parables in Hebrew in such a context. One could reasonably go on to argue that there is a strong case for the (vast) majority of his parables having been given in Hebrew. But that is not necessary for the pertinent point that follows. Since, as a majority of scholars will affirm, Jesus often taught publicly using parables and, as I have argued, at least some of the time these parables were given in Hebrew, further confirmation is found for the case for Hebrew as one of the spoken languages in Palestine in the Second Temple period. Some ideas die hard, unfortunately. Despite the agreement of Hebraists that Hebrew was a spoken language during the first century CE, the paucity of translations from Hebrew into Aramaic at this time and the striking evidence for Hebrew being the consistent language of usage for teaching in parables in a public Sitz im Leben, accessible to the masses, some New Testament scholars continue to advocate a “bilingual” model involving, curiously, Aramaic and Greek. 83 This is true, essentially, even when a trilingual situation is envisioned. 84 Of course, concerning the historical Jesus, Jerusalem School scholars are not the only ones in the New Testament guild advocating that the Aramaiconly model (or Aramaic and Greek only) is inappropriate. Loren Stuckenbruck (2012), honing in on the question of authenticating criteria in historical Jesus research, observes the importance of both spoken Aramaic and Hebrew for contextualising Jesus. He states: “Even if Jesus cannot incontrovertibly be shown to have spoken Aramaic or Hebrew primarily or in a given instance, there is little doubt that his linguistic context was shaped by a

83

Cf. e.g. Sang-Il 2012. An example of this approach is the view embraced by Ong (2012: 119, n. 33), who regulates Hebrew to third class, as a language “predominantly used in liturgical contexts and educational programs during Jesus’ time.” Note, de jure Ong (2012: 119) claims one must “classify Greek... as a tertiary language,” in distinction from Aramaic and Hebrew. However, de facto, concerning the question of what language Jesus spoke on any given occasion, Hebrew is neglected. Aramaic and Greek are the two options he considers viable. 84

State of the Question

527

regular coming into contact of at least two, if not three languages” (Stuckenbruck 2012: 81; emphasis original). 85 Still, Stuckenbruck urges caution in attempts “to penetrate beyond texts composed in Greek into a Semitic world of oral tradition that gets closer to Jesus,” as the attempts are “fraught with methodological difficulties” (Stuckenbruck 2012: 75). The difficulties arise from eight factors. 86 Stuckenbruck’s enumeration of these factors aptly demonstrates the complexity and difficulty of endeavours to recover an earlier form of a tradition associated with Jesus in a Semitic language, let alone to recover authentic information about the historical Jesus. Stuckenbruck (2012: 94) is not against linguistic analysis as a useful tool “for the identification of authentic tradition” per se. Rather his caution is against using it “as a guiding principle,” for “linguistic analysis does not and cannot stand on its own” (Stuckenbruck 2012: 94; emphasis original) in the task of recovering earlier traditions. Forays into the thicket of issues surrounding the question of potential tradition(s) in Semitic languages underlying the Gospels can only benefit by heeding his warning. Positions that advocate an Aramaic-speaking-only Jesus (or a Hebrew-speaking-only) must be firmly resisted. Still, the need for caution seems somewhat overstated by Stuckenbruck. 87 85

“Greek, Hebrew and Aramaic” are the three languages Stuckenbruck (2012: 81) has in mind. 86 Stuckenbruck (2012: 93–94) cites these factors: “a. the languages used in different socio-economic and religious contexts in Judea and Galilee during the early part of the first century C.E.; b. the languages Jesus may have spoken (depending on the historical and or narrative context of his words – instructions to his disciples, discourse with learned Jewish groups, activity in religious gatherings, interaction with non-Jews); c. ‘code-switching’ and language contact between Greek and Semitic languages in antiquity; d. the possible influence of Jewish translation strategies (e.g. within ‘Septuagintal’ tradition) on the Greek text; e. the general identification of ‘Semitisms,’ as well as the more precise identification of ‘Hebraisms,’ on the one hand, and ‘Aramaisms,’ on the other; f. the interpretation of transliterated Semitic terms, if possible, as either Hebrew or Aramaic; g. the possibility that alleged instances of ‘Semitic’ syntax, phraseology and idioms occur also in Greek literature, papyri or inscriptions recovered from the Eastern Mediterranean world of antiquity; and h. the possibility of secondary Semiticization of Greek tradition.” 87 In study of the parables, for example, one could rightly give specific attention to the possibility that a Hebrew source or sources existed. In fact, it would seem rather unwise to not give this possibility serious consideration. But many studies of parables do precisely this – whether, given the 2DH, those found in Q, Mk or material unique to Mt and Lk. If a Semitic language is considered as a potential factor in the development of parable material, an “Aramaic approach” to Q and/or Mk has been the constant trend (Black 1967; Casey 1998, 2002). Some parables in the Gospels have been studied with serious attention given to possible Hebrew source material, such as Buth and Kvasnica’s (2006b) study of “the parable of the vineyard, the tenants and the son.” (In this case, both linguistic data and

528

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

Some recent studies address possible Hebraisms in the Synoptic Gospels with heightened methodological rigour. Notley (2014) examines a number of “non-Septuagintal Hebraisms in the Third Gospel.” One of these, interestingly, is part of a lengthy sequence of words held verbatim between Mt and Lk and constitutes an agreement against Mk in the TT: κράσπεδον. 88 Thus, on the 2DH, the story it occurs in, the healing of the woman with hemorrhaging, most likely existed in non-Markan literary source – quite possibly Q! The main alternative postulation – coincidentally identical editorial procedures by Mt and Lk, borrowing phraseology from elsewhere in Mk (6.56), argued by Neirynck – strains credulity. 89 It also shows a lack of appreciation of the linguistic data. Two other instances examined by Notley occur in miracle stories, too, though again not in the responses (and not involving MAs). 90 While various other studies could be discussed, 91 for the present purposes it is sufficient to mention in detail here just one more, concerning again a non-Septuagintal Hebraism that is also an MA in the TT. Eran Shuali has demonstrated with a measure of probability that Peter’s speech as represented in Mt 26.70 (οὐκ οἶδα τί λέγεις) and Lk 22.60 (οὐκ οἶδα ὃ λέγεις) is a translation of a non-Septuagintal Hebraism (‫)איני יודע מה אתה סח‬. 92 This is in contradistinction to the reported speech in Mk 14.68 (οὔτε οἶδα οὔτε ἐπίσταμαι σὺ τί λέγεις), which contains two verbs and does not represent the Hebrew phrase. The Hebraism contains a rare verb (‫)סח‬, an emblem of idiomaticity. The idiomatic phrase indicates not a spontaneous utterance expressconsideration of plot and patterns common to parables jointly point to Lk having had access additionally to an earlier, non-Markan source.) But many more such studies are needed. 88 προσελθοῦσα ὄπισθεν ἥψατο τοῦ κρασπέδου τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ (Mt 9.20 || Lk 8.44) vs. ἐλθοῦσα ἐν τῷ ὄχλῳ ὄπισθεν ἥψατο τοῦ ἱματίου αὐτοῦ (Mk 5.27). Use of τὸ κράσπεδον suggests a translation from the Hebrew ‫ציצית‬, since, as Notley (2014: 335) observes, “The Greek translators [of the LXX] routinely render the singular Hebrew noun in the plural.” 89 See above, n. 5. 90 Two other non-Septuagintal Hebraisms in miracle stories are: θέσθε ὑμεῖς εἰς τὰ ὦτα ὑμῶν τοὺς λόγους τούτους (Lk 9.44; cf. Exod 17.14: ‫ )ושים באזני יהושע‬and ἐν δακτύλῳ θεοῦ (Lk 11.20; cf. Exod 31.18 and Deut 9.10: ‫ – באצבע אלהים‬but see also Exod 8.15). In the cases Notley examines that involve the Hebrew Bible the LXX has a typical or consistent Greek rendering of the Hebrew phrase in question that is different from the phenomena in Lk. While not all Notley’s examples have equally persuasive power, some, e.g. βιβλίον τοῦ προφήτου Ἠσαΐου (Lk 4.17; cf. 4Q174 1 ii 15, 4Q176 1 ii 4, 4Q265 1.3; 4Q285 7.1: ‫)ספר ישעיה הנביא‬, do not seem to be easily explainable without recourse to the influence of Hebrew sources on the material preserved in Lk. 91 Cf. e.g. Buth 2011, 2014. 92 Eran Shuali, “Did Peter speak Hebrew to the servant? A linguistic examination of the expression: ‘I do not know what you are saying’ (Matt 26:70; Mark 14:68; Luke 22:60),” presented at the SBL International Meeting, Vienna, July 2014.

State of the Question

529

ing lack of comprehension but a thought-out rejection of an accusation (m. Sebu. 8.3, 6; t. B. Qam. 7.3). As far as the evidence allows, this idiom does not appear to be in borrowed use in Aramaic. 93 It is probable, then, that Mt and Lk are preserving in Greek a tradition originating in Hebrew. In contrast, Mk’s Greek obfuscates the meaning of the underlying Hebraism. These linguistic considerations are supported by literary ones. Given the meaning of the Hebraism, Peter’s speech makes more sense in its contexts in Mk and Lk. He proffers a formal rejection of the accusation levelled against him. In contrast, Mk’s story leaves something lacking, as Peter responds to an accusation by saying “I do not understand what you are talking about,” that is, a denial of comprehension of the accusation against him. Shuali’s cogent argument does not prove that the story was told at some point in Hebrew, let alone that Peter actually spoke the Hebrew phrase in question. At the least, however, it provides strong evidence for a tradition predating the Gospels in which Peter’s speech in rejecting the accusation against him was retold (and possibly remembered) as uttered in Hebrew. It is not important here to evaluate the probabilities of various scenarios for the existence of this phrase in Hebrew in an earlier tradition. 94 Even when such a question is left unanswered, Shuali’s contribution has profound implications for the Synoptic Problem. For Peter’s utterance involves one of the MAs. On the 2DH, the evidence becomes strong, then, that Mt and Lk jointly have access to non-Markan traditions, for material related to Jesus’ passion no less. As noted above, the MA judged by Goodacre to be the most significant – τίς ἐστιν ὁ παίσας σε – also occurs in the narration of Jesus’ passion. The studies of Notley and Shuali have a couple of important implications for the present purposes. Whether the pertinent MAs in the TT are the result of Lk and Mt relying on Q or some other non-Markan literary source (woman with hemorrhaging) or on related versions in oral performances (Peter’s denial), the respective episode likely belonged within the oral tradition at an early 93 As Shuali points out, Torrey’s (1936: 16–17) attempt to see Mk’s Greek as preserving (while misunderstanding) an Aramaic phrase is problematic owing to the fact that there are no parallels in extant Aramaic texts for the alleged phraseology. Torrey’s Aramaic postulation is certainly less successful than the Hebrew one, for which there are clear parallels and of which the sense of the meaning fits the narrative context better than the Greek (or the alleged Aramaic). Torrey’s position was affirmed by Black (1967: 61). More recent studies, too, follow suit, adopting the Aramaic-only approach. E.g., even Hultgren (2002: 266, 267–268), who correctly proposes that “Peter’s reply has become obscure in the Markan tradition, while Luke preserves it in its more exact form,” cites m. Sebu 8.3, 6 as evidence of “a Semitic [sic] oath formula.” He then inexplicably argues that, Lk 22.58 [οὐκ εἰμί] aside, “all of the other replies of Peter in the synoptic Gospels... can be derived from a single Aramaic phrase...” (Hultgren 2002: 269). 94 It is even conceivable that a story like that preserved in Mt and Lk was told in Aramaic, though Peter’s utterance was given in Hebrew, through “code-switching.”

530

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

stage. 95 Thus, these scholars’ considerations give a significant indication – yet no more and no less than this – as to the contours of the larger narrative framework of the circumambient oral tradition. The evidence, albeit slight, leans towards what has already been proposed on other grounds, following the lead of Dunn and Eve, namely that both stories of healings performed by Jesus and Jesus’ passion likely belonged to the tradition – and this at an early stage. Issues of language, which I have dwelt on at some length here, are important not just for the present chapter, specifically regarding the Synoptic Problem, but also for the Chapter Seven, below. There the question arises as to whether or not certain story-telling patterns are more comfortable in or found uniquely among literature written in a specific language, whether Greek, Hebrew or Aramaic. For the present, however, I bring the preceding discussion to a focus, by emphasising that attention to Hebrew, too, can pay dividends for the study of the Synoptic Problem, for those who are willing to invest the required energies and to address the question with due methodological rigour. V. Implications from historical Jesus research A final consideration, stemming from developments in historical Jesus scholarship, is appropriate. In contrast to earlier generations of scholars, it is now a widely accepted idea that Jesus was understood by his contemporaries to have performed miracles. Many scholars affirm, in addition, that Jesus performed miracles, however those are defined. This affirmation obviously bears on the question of how early and to what extent miracle stories featured in the oral tradition about him. A significant challenge is posed to the previous conception that the miracle stories entered the oral tradition primarily at a stage and in a location further removed, temporally and geographically, from Jesus and his earliest followers. I offer a brief survey of some of the most significant contributions to the said developments in historical Jesus research. Géza Vermes (1973) argued against the prevailing trend of seeing the historical Jesus as merely a teacher. He insisted that Jesus was also a known miracle worker, with the best parallels to him being other Jews, including

95 To make this argument, of course, I assume that episodes told in or involving Hebrew are more likely to have originated in Eretz Yisrael / Palestine, the one place where the language was spoken, than elsewhere. Related, it is also more probable that such stories entered the oral tradition earlier than later (prior to the wide spread of the Jesus movement).

State of the Question

531

Honi the Circle Drawer and Hanina ben Dosa. This set the stage for further arguments in favour of Jesus being both Jewish and a miracle worker. 96 Morton Smith (1978) went a step farther, claiming that Jesus’ miracles, not his teachings, were what gained him the wide popularity he enjoyed. Not arguing for Jesus’ Jewishness, Smith asserted that Jesus was considered to be and was, in fact, a magician. Though Smith’s argument is flawed for a number of reasons, including a faulty θεῖος-ἀνήρ construct (see Chapter One, above), he brought discussion of Jesus’ miracles to the forefront. A number of scholars have argued for Jesus being best understood in light of the figure of a Jewish prophet. One of these scholars, John Paul Meier (1991–2009) follows Smith’s lead by giving a large amount of attention to Jesus’ miracles. 97 Jesus is seen here as an eschatological prophet, whose miracles indicate the inauguration of the Kingdom of God. Anthony E. Harvey (1982), has a similar conception. Likewise, E. P. Sanders (1985) sees Jesus as an eschatological prophet, though in the end he gives less attention to Jesus’ miracles and more to Jesus’ act in the Jerusalem temple in this connection. N. T. Wright (1996) also sees Jesus’ miracles as signs of the inauguration of the Kingdom of God. However, Jesus’ miracles wind up playing little role in Wright’s depiction of Jesus’ ministry. The work of Erkki Koskenniemi (2005) and Eric Eve (2002) has supported the basic conception ascribed to by Meier and Harvey and, to a more limited extent, Sanders and Wright. Though seeing Jesus as more similar to a Cynic philosopher, John Dominic Crossan (1991) has still taken Jesus’ miracles to be integral to his activity and teaching. “Miracle and meal” is a phrase Crossan uses to identify two important elements of what he sees as a radically egalitarian movement led by Jesus. As for Smith and others, the Jewish aspect of Jesus’ context is for Crossan not decisive. Bernd Kollmann (1996) has argued that miracles were a key component of the movement of Jesus’ followers, in addition to Jesus’ own ministry. The miracles aided in the rapid, wide growth of the movement. That Christians, unlike their competitors, offered healings for free was an important factor. Given the current consensus among historical Jesus scholars that he was known as a miracle worker during his lifetime, it would seem likely that in gatherings of Jesus’ followers oral performances of various stories about miracles associated with him occurred already early on. Stated negatively, it 96 Vermes’ specific argument for Jesus being most akin to charismatic Jews of the centuries around the turn of the millennia BCE/CE has been pursued by Borg (1987). Eve (2002) has called into question the model of Jewish charismatic holy men. 97 Twelftree (2004) calls Meier the “high water mark” of historical Jesus research in relation to Jesus’ miracles. He notes how often other scholars, though acknowledging that Jesus was a miracle worker, do not afford much discussion of this aspect of Jesus’ ministry.

532

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

is improbable that no such story was told shortly after his crucifixion (or even before it). But which stories were likely told in the earlier stages of the tradition? How might any patterns of story-telling – particularly with respect to framing and keying – have emerged as time went on? What developments took place when the stories were put into writing and, later, reproduced by authors literarily dependent on the earlier written sources, probably in addition to a contemporary circumambient oral tradition? Before attending to these and other questions posed in the foregoing, I lay out the plan of analysis in the present chapter. VI. Procedure of the analysis In an attempt to afford due attention to its complexity, the lengthy foregoing consideration of the state of the question has had to address a host of interlocking issues: proposals of literary dependence among the Synoptics, especially the 2DH; problems posed to it by the MAs; the possible and probable contents of Q and limitations in our knowledge about them; hypotheses of Jn’s relation to the Synoptics; the nature and role of oral tradition and social memory; models of how the Synoptics and also Jn may rely on oral tradition; pertinent language issues; and implications for miracle stories stemming from advances in historical Jesus research. The analysis to follow is divided broadly into two parts. In the first part, namely Section B through Section P, I analyse the data for the responses in miracle stories carefully culled from each gospel in the corresponding sections of the foregoing chapters. The data are analysed both (1) statistically, in the aggregate, and (2) with focused attention on MAs in the TT. In the second part, the results of the foregoing analysis are revisited in two ways. First, I consider the case for the miracle stories – in all four gospels, as well as in the Synoptics in particular – bearing the marks of oral tradition. Second, I consider three stories having versions in multiple gospels to determine to the case for a non-Markan version, whether written or oral, on the basis of the quality and quantity of MAs (healing of the paralytic and the stilling of the storm) or Mt-Jn agreements versus Mk (walking on the water). As to potential non-Markan literary versions of these stories, I consider the possibility that they would be present in Q.

B. Miracle Stories with Responses The first observation to be made is that, in all canonical Gospels, miracle stories tend to have responses. In order of increasing frequency the statistics

Miracle Stories with Responses

533

are: Mt (65.5%), Mk (66.7%), Lk (88.9%), Jn (100%). 98 These data are displayed in Figure 1 and Figure 2, below. The two instances of the inversion of the response motif in miracle stories (i.e. Jesus is amazed at and speaks about the centurion’s faith – Lk 7.9; Mt 8.10–13a) can reasonably be included in this consideration. The frequency for these gospels, then, would be: Mt (69.0%), Lk (92.6%). (Each synoptic gospel potentially contains an additional response [Peter’s mother-in-law: Mt 8.15d; Mk 1.31c; Lk 4.39c].) Responses, therefore, are a key component of miracle stories in the Gospels. This conclusion is significant, given certain forms of diversity between the Gospels in other respects. The biggest differences are between Jn and the Synoptics – for example Jn contains no exorcism stories, no transfiguration and no story that is specifically an angelophany, though Mt, Mk and Lk each contain (at least one of) all of these. Another example is that miracle stories in Mt are often shorter than those in the other three gospels (in some cases they are in parallel with stories in Mk and/or Lk). Despite these and other differences between the Gospels in terms of how miracle stories are incorporated into the respective narratives, they have in common a propensity to include the motif of responses in the stories.

98 The ratios are: 19:29 (Mt); 14:21 (Mk); 24:27 (Lk); 11:11 (Jn). Of the 19 stories in Mt: eight are in the TT, one in the DT, two in Mt-Mk material and eight in Mt only. Of the 14 stories in Mk: 10 are in the TT, two in Mt-Mk material, one in Lk-Mk material and one in Mk only. Of the 24 stories in Lk: 11 are in the TT, one in the DT, one in Lk-Mk material and 11 in Lk only. Of the 11 stories in Jn: nine are in Jn only, one in Mt-Mk-Lk-Jn material and one in Mt-Mk-Jn material.

534

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

Figure 1: Miracle stories with responses – absolute numbers

30 25 20 15 10 5 0 Mt

Mk With responses

Lk

Jn

Without responses

Figure 2: Miracle stories with responses – percentages

100% 80% 60% 40% 20% 0% Mt

Mk With responses

Lk

Jn

Without responses

535

Miracle Stories with Responses

Important follow-up questions are the following. Why do the four gospels share a tendency to have responses in miracle stories? Of course literary dependence is the cause of some of the similarities. But no proposed theory of literary dependence alone can adequately account for the data, namely all miracle stories in all four gospels. What other influences are also at play? How common are responses in miracle stories in other ancient literature? Are frequency rates comparable to those of the four gospels found anywhere? If so, where? Are differences with regards to frequency to be seen based on language of composition (Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek)? Does a distinction between Jewish and non-Jewish material show a difference in the frequency of responses in miracle stories? What influences from traditions – literary and/or oral – may be exerting themselves on the Gospels and their source-material with respect to this pattern of story telling? I will discuss these questions in the analysis in the next chapter, also to some extent in the analysis below. For these questions, most of the answers will, of necessity, be partial, given the constraints of the study. Nevertheless, already at this point one can note the probable uniqueness of the Gospels, on account of the ubiquity of responses in them. For, as noted in Chapter One, above, scholars have had a hard time finding parallels to these features in literature of the Vor- and Umwelt. Table 1: Frequency of miracle stories according to types Mt

Mk

Lk

Jn

Total stories

29

21

27

11

Healing / exorcism

15

13

17

4

Epiphany

10

5

8

5

Food / drink provision

2

2

2

2

Other

2

1

0

0

Returning to the statistical comparison of the Gospels, the question arises as to whether certain types of miracle stories have responses more frequently than others. To answer the question, it is important to observe, first, the frequency of the types of miracle stories themselves in each gospel. The data are shown in Table 1 (see above). One can use Pearson’s chi-squared test to test the statistical significance of the differences between the distribution of types of miracle stories among the Gospels. 99 Variations of this test show that the data in Table 1 are consistent with each of the four gospels having drawn

99 The test results in a “p-value” (ranging from zero to one) which is the probability of observing the given occurrences of miracles if the Gospels draw from the same parent distribution of miracles.

536

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

from the same parent distribution of miracle stories. 100 Even Jn’s distribution of miracle stories is not statistically different from the others. 101 Again, literary dependence alone cannot possibly account for all the similarities between the Gospels. The similar patterns identified are established from analysis of stories found in an extremely wide variety of contexts: TT, DT, Mk-Lk material, Mk-Mt material, Mt-Mk-Jn material, material common to all four canonical Gospels, and material unique to each of them. This is suggestive that the relative proportion of types of miracle stories in each gospel derives from, in addition to literary dependence, a common tradition that precedes (and, potentially, is contemporary to) the Gospels and their literary sources. This observation supports the notion, then, that (many of) the miracle stories unique to a given gospel (Mt: 9; Mk: 1; Lk: 11; Jn: 9) derive from such a tradition. 102 It should be noted that a large number of stories unique to each of these gospels are epiphany stories (Mt: 5; Lk: 5; Jn: 4). 103 I now return to the question of the frequency with which responses occur among the various types of miracle stories. The data are shown in Table 2 (see below). I focus the question on the Synoptics, since all stories in Jn have responses. Epiphany stories are the most likely to have responses (Mt: 90%; 100

Considering the four types of miracles as listed in Table 1, the p-value is 0.73, significantly higher than the maximum of 0.05 commonly used to rule out the null hypothesis, in our case, being that of a common parent distribution of types of miracle stories among the four gospels. When more than 20% of the cells include fewer than five occurrences, Pearson’s test is less reliable. In such cases, the Yates correction for small numbers is applied, yielding a higher p-value of 0.99 in our case. Another way to avoid the small numbers is to combine the last two categories with “Healings/Exorcisms”, yielding a pvalue of 0.63 – still quite high. 101 Even when comparing Jn with Mk, the Gospel that is most dissimilar to Jn, Pearson’s p-value is still 0.21; i.e., the occurrences of different types of miracles in Jn is well within the expected range of values if Mk and Jn were drawn from the same pool of miracles. 102 The miracle stories unique to each gospel are as follows. Mt 1.18–25; 2.13–15; 2.19–23; 9.27–31; 9.32–34 (the two aforementioned stories are included, despite some clear affinity to two other stories, respectively, in Mt); 15.29–31; 17.24–27; 28.9–10 (this story is included, despite some similarity to a story in Jn); 28.16–20. Mk 7.31–37. Lk 1.8– 23; 1.26–38; 1.59–80; 2.1–20; 5.1–11 (with some similarity to a story in Jn); 7.11–17; 13.10–21; 14.1–24; 17.11–19; 24.13–35; 24.36–53 (with some similarity to a story in Jn). Jn 2.1–11; 4.46–54 (this story is included, despite some similarity to a story in each of Mt and Lk); 5.1–4; 9.1–41(-10.21); 11.1–54; 20.11–18 (with some similarity to a story in Mt 28); 20.19–25 (with some similarity to a story in Lk 24); 20.26–29; 21.1–14 (with some similarity to a story in Lk 5). 103 Epiphany stories unique to particular gospels: Mt 1.18–25; 2.13–15; 2.19–23; 28.9– 10; 28.16–20; Lk 1.8–23; 1.26–38; 2.1–20; 24.13–35; 24.36–53; Jn 20.11–18; 20.19–25; 20.26–29; 21.1–14. On limited similarity between gospels for some stories pertaining to appearances of the resurrected Jesus, see above, n. 102.

537

Number of Responses within a Miracle Story

Mk: 80%; Lk: 100%). In each gospel, stories of healing and exorcism are the next likely (Mt: 60%; Mk: 69%; Lk: 88%). The remaining types of stories (for which there are the fewest data) have the lowest ratio of stories containing responses (Mt: 25%; Mk: 33%; Lk: 50%). Table 2: Frequency of miracle stories with responses according to types of stories Mt

Mk

Lk

Total stories

19:29

14:21

24:27

Healing / exorcism

9:15

9:13

15:17

Epiphany

9:10

4:5

8:8

Other

1:4

1:3

1:2

In addition, the pattern of the relative frequency of stories with responses according to types of stories is statistically similar between the Synoptic Gospels. 104 In other words, the data are consistent with the three gospels having drawn their miracle stories from a common pool. A caveat is again in order, since it is to be expected that literary dependence is responsible, in part, for the similarities. Nevertheless, the similar patterns identified are established from analysis of stories found in a variety of contexts: the TT, the DT, Mk-Lk material, Mk-Mt material and material unique to each of Mt, Mk and Lk. And for certain cases the versions of a parallel story in one or more gospels do not contain responses, while another gospel’s version does. These contexts will be investigated below (in Section D, I). Thus it is unlikely that a theory of literary dependence alone can account for the similar patterns. Other influences are probably at play – dependence on oral traditions specific to the Jesus tradition and/or influence from more general story-telling traditions (oral or literary), stemming from Jewish and/or non-Jewish traditions. Issues of language usage in these traditions may also be a factor contributing to the establishment of the shared pattern I have observed.

C. Number of Responses within a Miracle Story In all canonical Gospels most stories with responses have just one. In order of increasing frequency the stories with one response are 64.3% (Mk), 66.7%

104

The p-value comparing instances with and without responses between the three gospels is 0.76, or 0.97 with the Yates correction.

538

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

(Lk), 84.2% (Mt), 90.9% (Jn) out of stories with responses. 105 The statistics for Jn are not as reliable as in the case of the other gospels, given the difficulty of applying the definition of responses to that text (see above, Section C of Chapter Five). 106 Table 3 (see below) notes, for each type of miracle, how many stories with responses have more than one. In terms of absolute numbers, in each of the four canonical Gospels, stories pertaining to an epiphany and/or a rescue nature miracle account for more instances of multiple responses than the remaining miracle stories combined (healing/exorcism and other). In Mk (3:4) and Lk (6:8) this accounts for the majority of stories about epiphanies and the like. In Matthew and John only such stories have multiple responses. In terms of relative numbers, again for all gospels, epiphany stories and the like more frequently have multiple responses than the remaining types of stories, with one minor exception. 107 One may apply Pearson’s chisquared test to the data collectively under the null hypothesis that epiphanies/rescue nature stories are statistically similar to all of the remaining stories in their frequencies of multiple responses. The result of the test is strongly significant: the null hypothesis is ruled out with 99.95% confidence. 108 Thus there is a real tendency for epiphany/rescue nature miracle stories, in contrast to other miracle stories, to include multiple responses.

105 The ratios are: 16:19 (Mt); 9:14 (Mk); 16:24 (Lk); 10:11 (Jn). The numbers do not include Lk 7.9 or Mt 8.10–13a. 106 If just the eight stories in John with more formal responses are considered than the ratio (7:8) gives 87.5%, still the highest percentage for all Gospels. 107 The only instances of a miracle story in the “other” category in Lk containing the response motif has more than one response. As noted in Chapter Four (above) the said story, the miraculous provision of fish, is closely connected to two subsequent private epiphany stories to disciples in the Galilee. 108 I.e., the p-value is 0.0005 when summing the instances over all gospels and applying the Yates correction. Considering each gospel individually clearly bring the numbers below the threshold of applicability for Pearson’s test. Nevertheless, the p-values are 0.047, 0.015, 0.0073 and 0.25 without the Yates correction and 0.17, 0.076, 0.025 and 0.92 with the Yates correction for Mt, Mk, Lk, and Jn respectively. In other words, only in Lk is the difference between epiphany/rescue nature stories and the other stories statistically significant. However, the low p-values in the other synoptic gospels, while only marginally significant, are at least suggestive of a real difference between these types of stories. The approach adopted here, namely applying the test to the data from the four gospels collectively, seems justified, since even in parallel contexts each gospel demonstrates individuality in the incorporation (or not) of response material and the number of responses involved.

Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers

539

Table 3: Stories with multiple responses versus stories with responses Epiphany / Rescue

Healing / Exorcism

Other

Mt

3:9

0:9

0:1

Mk

3:4

1:9

0:1

Lk

6:8

2:15

1:1

Jn

1:5

0:4

0:2

Questions arise. Why do the four gospels share this tendency for epiphany stories to have multiple responses? Can a theory of literary dependence, say Jn’s direct use of Mk, alongside the 2DH, give a reasonable explanation for all of the data? This seems unlikely since – to state an important observation related to, but distinct from, two observations made previously – the data include material from the TT, the DT, Mk-Lk material, Mk-Mt material, MtMk-Jn material and material unique to each of Mt, Mk, Lk and Jn, including some of the epiphany stories with multiple responses that occur in material unique to Lk and Mt. Or can the influences of literary traditions also be detected? In other ancient literature, too, is it most common to have just one response in a miracle story? Do multiple responses occur primarily (whether relatively or absolutely) in epiphany stories? Is there any difference in these regards between Jewish and non-Jewish miracle stories? Might language of composition be a factor? Questions beyond the influence of literary traditions also arise. Might a shared oral culture of story-telling and/or body of oral materials have exerted some influence on the pattern exhibited in the Gospels? In what language(s) and where might this have occurred? I will address many of these questions in the remainder of this analysis.

D. Elements within a Response, Vocabulary, Verbs and their Modifiers I. General Figure 3 includes all the elements in responses that occur six or more times in at least one gospel: emotional, verbal, seeing, reporting, movement, cognitive, belief. (The components that are excluded, then, are: hearing, falling, [other types of] bodily motion, antagonism, finding [unique to Lk] and “other.”) I note for each gospel the percentage of responses that have (one or more instances) of a given element. Drawing together the data from analyses in the preceding chapters, the following are the number of responses in the Gospels – Mt: 23; Mk: 18; Lk: 35; Jn: 12. Some caution is necessary for working with Jn’s data, due to the fact that three responses stretch the definition of response I have adopted.

540

Chapter 6: The Interrelations of the Gospels

A quick look at Figure 3 shows that the Synoptic Gospels are similar in having the emotional component as one of the, if not the, most frequently occurring elements. Jn, on the other hand, has few responses with emotion. 109 Conversely, belief, which occurs frequently in Jn’s responses, is the least commonly occurring (of the said seven elements) in responses in the Synoptics. Applying Pearson’s chi-squared test, the occurrences of these seven elements in Mt, Mk and Lk are consistent with these gospels having derived the elements from a common parent distribution. 110 Jn’s departure from the Synoptics in these occurrences, however, is statistically significant. 111 Figure 3: Responses with the most common elements +!"!!# *!"!!#

234-54167

)!"!!#

89:;67

(!"!!#