The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen Zum Neuen Testament) 9783161544545, 9783161546235, 3161544544

Citation preview

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

378

Edwin K. Broadhead

The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

Mohr Siebeck

Edwin K. Broadhead, born 1955: 1977 B. A., Mississippi College; 1981 M. Div., Southern Baptist Theological Seminary; 1986 PhD, Southern Baptist Theological Seminary; 1991 Dr. theol., University of Zürich; 2005, 2013 Visiting Scholar, Wolfson College, Oxford University; additional studies at Bern, Tübingen; Basel; Professor at Berea College, Berea, Kentucky.

ISBN 978-3-16-154454-5 eISBN 978-3-16-154623-5 ISSN 0512-1604 (Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament) Die Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data is available on the Internet at http://dnb.dnb.de.

© 2017 by Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen, Germany. www.mohr.de This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations, microfilms and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was typeset by Martin Fischer in Tübingen, printed by Gulde-Druck in Tübingen on non-aging paper and bound by Buchbinderei Spinner in Ottersweier. Printed in Germany.

dedicated to

Janet Broadhead Tidmore strong advocate lifelong friend beloved sister and to

Pat Tidmore friend and family

Preface Recent years have seen intense focus on the Gospel of Matthew, particularly in terms of redactional studies and narrative analysis. I have sought here to push out into broader streams of interpretation and to investigate the Gospel of Matthew within a much larger perspective and landscape. Here I have considered the Gospel of Matthew from the perspective of the normative compositional patterns in antiquity, and I have concluded that the claim of a privileged position for authorship of New Testament materials can no longer be presumed. This means that I have interpreted the Gospel of Matthew not as the work of a single author in a limited time period that produced a foundational text, but rather, along with much of ancient literature, as an oeuvre mouvante – as a work in process. The key focus then falls upon the history of the tradition, both in terms of composition and transmission. Morever, I will argue that this Tradition History not only tells us how this gospel was made, but it also defines what it is and what it does. As with much of recent interpretation, I have sought to move beyond theological questions to ask as well about historical context, sociological dynamics, and patterns of identity formation at work in the literary construction of this gospel. Moreover, I have sought to look beyond the simpler, rather stereotypical descriptions of setting (within the church or between church and synagogue) described in early stages of scholarship and to locate the Gospel of Matthew amidst the broader lines of conflict and collaboration that characterized the ancient landscape. The result is a more dynamic and extensive concept of the identity and function of this gospel tradition. My hope is to sponsor among critical scholars a broader discussion and re-evaluation of how such texts were made and how they function – and thus of what they are. I am grateful for those who helped me on my way. This research was done in a sabbatical at Oxford, primarily within Jewish Studies, and I am grateful to Berea College for granting a research semester. I am particularly grateful to hosts and colleagues within Oxford for their friendship and support. Martin Goodman, amidst a very busy schedule, provided invitations and introductions that were important. As a Visiting Fellow of Wolfson College, I found there a warm social circle and helpful facilities. I am particularly grateful to Hermione Lee, president of the college, for her interest in my work and my ideas.

VIII

Preface

I am grateful, of course, for the love and support of family. I learned the paths of scholarship while watching my father, Dempsey Broadhead, pursue his own career of scholarly research and publication. From my mother, Louise Graham Broadhead, I learned the habits and industry that sustain a life and a career. I have been blessed with a sister, Janet Broadhead Tidmore, who offers equal amounts of listening and advice, and both are treasured. Pat Tidmore, her husband, has followed my work with interest, questions, affirmation, and friendship. As my career advances, so does my respect for the teachers who helped me on my way. I have been forturnate to study with a wide array of competent, concerned, and interesting mentors. Among these are Robert Shurden, Bradley Pope, Frank Stagg, Eduard Schweizer, Ulrich Luz, Hans Weder, Jean Zumstein, Martin Hengel, Peter Stuhlmacher, Jürgen Moltmann, Ulrich Gäbler. I add to this my continuing joy in the collegiality and the challenges offered by fellow members within the Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas. Special gratitude is due to my colleague and wife, Rev. Dr. Loretta Reynolds. She has listened to my theories and supported my research and shared with me in the ministry of the gospel through three decades of married life. She brings much joy and great adventure to our life together, and I am greatful for each day of that journey.

Table of Contents Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . VII How I Changed My Mind about Matthew: Theses for Consideration and Debate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . XVII

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 Chapter One: The History of Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 1.0 Matthew the Apostle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 2.0 Matthew the Compiler (Source Criticism) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 3.0 Matthew the Stage Manager (Form Criticism) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 4.0 Matthew the Editor and Theologian (Redaction Criticism) . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 5.0 Matthew the Literary Genius . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 6.0 Overview: the History of Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 7.0 Contradictory Views of Matthew in Current Scholarship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 7.1 Conflicting Answers to Current Questions about the Gospel of Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 7.1.1 Was Matthew Jewish or Gentile? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 7.1.2 Was Matthew’s Community Jewish or Gentile? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 7.1.3 What is Matthew’s View on the Law? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 7.1.4 What is the Key Focus of Matthew’s Christology? . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 7.1.5 Have Matthew and his Community Separated from the Synagogue? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 7.2 Conflicting Views on Discipleship and Ecclesiology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 7.2.1 W. D. Davies and Dale Allison, Jr. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 7.2.2 Graham Stanton . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 7.2.3 Ulrich Luz . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 7.2.4 Matthias Konradt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 7.2.5 David Sim . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 7.2.6 Paul Foster . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 7.2.7 Wolfgang Kraus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 7.2.8 William Loader . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 7.2.9 Amy-Jill Levine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 8.0 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24

X

Table of Contents

Chapter Two: Disjunction, Conflict, and Contradiction: The Narrative World of the Gospel of Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 1.0 Disjunction, Conflict and Contradiction: The Structural Framework of the Story . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26 1.1 The Framing of the Story: Discourse Units . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26 1.2 The Framing of the Story: Narrative Sequences . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 1.3 The Framing of the Story: Prologue and Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 1.4 Summation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 2.0 Disjunction, Conflict and Contradiction: The Conceptual World of the Story . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 2.1 Conceptualizing Discipleship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 2.1.1 Discipleship: The Commission . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 2.1.2 Discipleship: The Composition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34 2.1.3 Summation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 2.2 Conceptualizing the Teaching of Jesus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 2.2.1 Tension between the Words of Jesus and his Deeds . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 2.2.1.1 Anger . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 2.2.1.2 The Law . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 2.2.1.3 Love of Enemies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 2.2.2 Tension within the Teaching of Jesus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 2.2.2.1 The Place of the Gentiles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 2.2.2.2 The Revision of Torah . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 2.2.2.3 The Wicked and their Destiny . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 2.2.2.4 Commands to Secrecy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43 2.2.2.5 Contradictory Teachings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 2.3 Summation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 3.0 Disjunction, Conflict and Contradiction: The Linguistic Profile of the Story . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 3.1 Tension Caused by Jesus using the Same Term in Different Ways . . . . . 44 3.2 Syntactical Problems Caused by Linkage of Appropriated Material . . . 44 3.3 Deconstructing Parallelism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45 4.0 Summation: Disjunction in the Narrative World of the Gospel of Matthew 45 5.0 The Consequences of Chaos . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46 6.0 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46

Chapter Three: Works in Process: Mouvance, Variability, Viability . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48 1.0 Mouvance, Variability, Viability . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48 2.0 Text as an Object . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50 3.0 Interpretation as Recovery . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51 4.0 Transmission as Afterthought . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52 5.0 The Text as Received Object . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53

Table of Contents

XI

6.0 Primordiality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 6.1 Biblical Texts at Qumran . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54 6.2 The Damascus Document . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56 6.3 The Teachings of Jesus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57 7.0 The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59

Chapter Four: Beyond Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61 1.0 Back to Matthew: From NA28 to p64 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61 2.0 Traditions in Search of an Author . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66 2.1 Who wrote the Iliad? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 2.2 Who wrote Brer Rabbit? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68 2.3 Who wrote Satan in Goray? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71 2.4 Who wrote the Books of Moses? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73 2.5 Who wrote Isaiah? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 2.6 Who wrote the letters of Paul? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75 3.0 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76

Chapter Five: Revaluing the History of the Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . 78 1.0 The Tradition (Work) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 79 2.0 The Text . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 80 3.0 The Scripts and the Manuscripts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81 4.0 The Performances . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81 5.0 Genre, Text, and Canon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82 6.0 Tradition History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83 7.0 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84

Chapter Six: Sources, Traditions, Tradents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85 1.0 Sources employed in the Gospel of Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86 1.1 The Gospel of Mark . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87 1.2 The Sayings Tradition (Q) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88 1.3 Special Traditions in the Orbit of the Gospel of Matthew (M) . . . . . . . . 90 1.3.1 Searching for the Special Tradition (M) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91 1.3.2 W. D. Davies and Dale Allison . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91 1.3.3 Stephenson Brooks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 92 1.3.4 Reconstructing the Special Materials (M) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94 1.4 The Sermon on the Mount . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96 1.5 The Lord’s Prayer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98 1.6 The Scriptures of Israel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100 1.7 A Petrine Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102 1.8 Structure, Style, Rhetoric as Received Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 1.9 Summation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104

XII

Table of Contents

2.0 Sources as Traditions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104 3.0 Traditions and Tradents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106 4.0 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108

Chapter Seven: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: Composition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 1.0 Text and Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 2.0 Competing Traditions within the Gospel of Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110 2.1 A Markan Voice in a Matthean World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110 2.1.1 Discipleship in the Gospel of Mark . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111 2.1.2 Ecclesiology in the Gospel of Mark . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113 2.1.3 Appropriation of Markan Discipleship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114 2.1.4 Appropriation of Markan Ecclesiology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116 2.1.4.1 The Scribes of the Kingdom (Mt 13.51–52) . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116 2.1.4.2 The Sons of the Kingdom (Mt 17.24–27) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116 2.1.4.3 The Eschatological Discourse (Mk 13.1–37; Mt 24.1–44; Mt 10.17–22a) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116 2.1.4.4 Eschatology Underway . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 2.1.4.5 Cleaning up the Script . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118 2.1.5 Summation: A Markan Voice in a Matthean World . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118 2.2 A Prophetic Voice in a Matthean World (The Sayings Tradition) . . . . . . 119 2.2.1 A Theology of the Sayings Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 2.2.2 Summation: A Prophetic Voice in a Matthean World . . . . . . . . . . . 122 2.3 The Voice of Scripture in a Matthean World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124 2.4 Local Voices in the Gospel of Matthew (M) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126 2.4.1 A Variety of Voices within the Special Material . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 2.4.2 Summation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 130 2.5 The Voice of Peter in a Matthean World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 130 2.6 Brackets: The Birth Narrative and the Post-Resurrection Commission 133 2.7 Summation: The Confluence and Competition of Voices in the Gospel of Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 134 3.0 A Jewish Voice in a Gentile World or a Gentile Voice in a Jewish World? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135

Chapter Eight: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Projected Context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136 1.0 Projection of Place in the Gospel of Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136 1.1 The Representation of Sacred Space . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 1.2 The Role of Mountains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 138 1.3 The Dynamics of Journey . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140 1.4 Summation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142

Table of Contents

XIII

2.0 Projection of Time in the Gospel of Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142 2.1 The Representation of the Past . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142 2.2 The Representation of the Present . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 144 2.3 The Representation of the Future . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 144 2.4 Summation: The Representation of Time in the Gospel of Matthew . . . 145 3.0 Projection of Value in the Gospel of Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 3.1 Righteousness and Hypocrisy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 3.2 Faith and its Opposites . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147 3.3 Peter as Conflicted Model . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148 3.4 Summation: Conflict and Values in the Gospel of Matthew . . . . . . . . . . 149 4.0 Overlap in Place, Time, Values . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149 5.0 Summation: Conflict as the Projected Context for the Gospel of Matthew 150

Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152 1.0 Between the Wars . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152 1.1 What is No More . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 1.2 What is Not Yet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 2.0 Projections of the Landscape before 70 ce . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155 2.1 A Rabbinic Perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155 2.2 The Sectarians of the Dead Sea Scrolls . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157 2.3 Josephus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158 2.4 Philo . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160 2.5 Apocalypses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160 2.6 New Testament Projections . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160 2.7 A Counter to Acts: Recognitions 1.27–71 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163 2.8 Why the Temple Fell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169 2.9 Summation: Projected History in the Years Before the 1st Jewish War . 170 3.0 Projections of the Landscape after 70 ce . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171 3.1 A Rabbinic Perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171 3.2 Josephus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171 3.3 Christian Perspectives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171 3.3.1 The Eschatological Discourse of Mark 13 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171 3.3.2 The Apocalypse: A Response to Domitian? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 172 3.3.3 The Apocalypse of Peter: A Response to Bar Kochba? . . . . . . . . . . 174 3.3.4 Justin Martyr’s Sources: Another Response to Bar Kochba? . . . . . 175 3.3.5 Hegesippus in the Words of Eusebius: A Virgin Church Corrupted by Heresies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178 3.3.6 Irenaeus: A Cosmic Unity around the Gospels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179 3.3.7 The Letter to the Hebrews: A New Temple for a New Age . . . . . . 180 3.4 Summation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181

XIV

Table of Contents

4.0 Scholarly Reconstructions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182 4.1 Formative Judaism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182 4.1.1 Common Judaism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182 4.1.2 Many Judaisms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183 4.1.3 From Monism to Pluralism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186 4.1.4 Grumbling Tolerance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187 4.1.5 The Truth is in the Details . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189 4.2 Formative Christianity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190 4.2.1 The Peace of the Church . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190 4.2.2 The Parting of the Ways . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191 4.2.2.1 Patterns of Parting in New Testament Scholarship . . . . . . . 191 4.2.2.2 The Parting of the Ways as a Paradigm for Christian Identity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 196 4.2.2.3 Challenges to the Parting Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 197 4.2.3 Summation: Scholarly Reconstructions of Formative Christianity 199 5.0 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The History of Transmission . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201 1.0 Transmission History: The Role of Tradition, Text, and Manuscript . . . . . . 201 1.1 Tradition, Text, Manuscript . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202 1.2 Developments in Codex Sinaiticus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204 1.3 Some Manuscripts Generate New Texts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 205 1.4 Summation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 208 2.0 Manuscripts and the Gospel of Matthew: From NA28 to p64 and Back . . . . 208 2.1 The List . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 209 2.2 Nestle-Aland: Novum Testamentum Graece . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211 2.3 Codex Sinaiticus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 212 2.4 Early Manuscript Fragments: p1 and p64 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213 2.5 The Manuscript Tradition From p64 to NA28 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 218 2.6 Summation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221 3.0 Hebrew Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222 4.0 MS 9381: The Gospel of Matthew and the Tradition of Forgiveness . . . . . . 224 5.0 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233

Chapter Eleven: Mapping the Ancient Landscape . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 1.0 Conflict and Collaboration: The Larger Mediterranean World . . . . . . . . . . 237 1.1 Culture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237 1.2 Political and Economic Relationships . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238 1.3 The Peculiar Case of the Jews . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 238 1.4 Summation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239

Table of Contents

XV

2.0 Conflict and Collaboration: Palestine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239 2.1 Culture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239 2.2 Politics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240 2.3 Jews in Dialectical Relationship with other Jews . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 2.4 Samaritans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243 2.5 The Peculiar Case of the Christians . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 244 2.6 Summation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 250 3.0 Conflict and Collaboration: The Local Context of the Gospel of Matthew 251 3.1 Antioch on the Axis of Graeco-Roman History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 251 3.2 Antioch on the Axis of Jewish History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252 3.3 Antioch on the Axis of Christian History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 255 3.4 Antioch on the Axis of Jewish Christian History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 259 4.0 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 1.0 The Gospel of Matthew as a Living Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 263 2.0 Competing Jewish Voices in the Gospel of Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264 2.1 A Markan Voice in a Matthean World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 2.2 The Voice of the Sayings Prophets in a Matthean World . . . . . . . . . . . . . 267 2.3 The Voice of Scripture in a Matthean World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 269 2.4 A Caustic Local Voice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 2.5 The Voice of Peter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 273 2.6 A Voice from the Margins . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 273 2.7 Summation: The Confluence and Competition of Voices in the Gospel of Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274 3.0 A Gentile Voice in a Jewish World or a Jewish Voice in a Gentile World? . . 277 4.0 A Jewish Voice in a Jewish World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 278 4.1 The Contours of the Narrative . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 278 4.2 The Final Vision . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 279 4.2.1 The Jewishness of the Final Vision . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 279 4.2.2 A New Vision Beyond Judaism? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 284 4.2.3 The Mouvance of Matthew 28.16–20 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 285 4.2.3.1 The Fragility of the Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 286 4.2.3.2 Various Forms of the Final Commission . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 287 4.2.3.3 A Continuum of Traditions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 289 4.2.3.4 Plausible Lines of Development . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 289 4.2.3.5 Evaluation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 290 4.2.4 Gentile Counter Voices? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 291 4.2.4.1 “His blood be upon us and upon our children” . . . . . . . . . . 291 4.2.4.2 The Present Day Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 292 4.2.5 Summation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 295 5.0 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 296

XVI

Table of Contents

Chapter Thirteen: The Transmission of the Gospel of Matthew Along Three Trajectories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 298 1.0 Reading a Jewish Voice in a Gentile World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 2.0 Reading a Jewish Voice in a Jewish World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 302 2.1 The Concept of Hebrew Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 302 2.2 The Jewish Gospel Traditions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 303 2.2.1 The Gospel of the Ebionites . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 304 2.2.2 The Gospel According to the Hebrews . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 305 2.2.3 The Gospel of the Nazoreans . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 306 2.3 A Jewish Christian Hermeutic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 309 2.3.1 Matthew 10.24–25: A Servant Like the Master . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 310 2.3.2 Matthew 10.5–6: The Lost Sheep of the House of Israel . . . . . . . . . 311 3.0 A Jewish Voice in a Medieval Debate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 311 4.0 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 314

Chapter 14: Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 315 1.0 Overview . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 316 2.0 The Gospel of Matthew as a Living Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 319 3.0 A Jewish Voice in a Jewish World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 321 4.0 The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 322 5.0 The Aktionsart of the Gospel of Matthew . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 323 6.0 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 324

Bibliography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 326 Ancient Texts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 333 Index of Authors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 347 Index of Subjects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 349

How I Changed My Mind about Matthew: Theses for Consideration and Debate 1. Redactional criticism, which began as a literary science (focused on the reappropriation of tradition and source materials) has become increasingly focused on the persona of Matthew. Linguistic and literary operations have been interpreted more and more as markers for the psychological profile and theological intent of an individual author named Matthew. In recent studies, Matthew has become a conscious theologian and a literary genius. 2. The form of the narrative from the 4th century (primarily Codex Sinaiticus and Codex Vaticanus) has been projected  – in a largely uncritical and almost comprehensive way – back onto the desk of a 1st century author. 3. The same is true of the major traditions employed by the Gospel of Matthew (the Gospel of Mark and the Sayings Tradition), which also are known largely from 4th century texts. 4. Reference to the psychological profile, theological agenda, or literary skills of Matthew and to his (retrojected) 1st century text has failed to resolve the multiple layers of conflict and contradiction present in the narrative. This is reflected in the wildly divergent positions taken in current scholarship. 5. Reference to the psychological profile, theological agenda, or literary skills of Matthew has failed to clarify the contradictory markers for the social and theological setting of this gospel. This too is reflected in the wildly divergent positions taken in current scholarship. 6. The Gospel of Matthew, as it is available to us, does not reflect a single redactional process leading to one text. It rather reflects multiple stages of redactional activity and an evolving text. This is true as well of the sources and traditions employed in the production of this text. This complexity makes it difficult to identify a unified line of editorial design or intent or to describe a single social setting for this gospel. 7. Scholarly construction and retrojection of a fixed gospel text (usually in the form of the Nestle-Aland 28th edition from the 21st century) tends to reify the dynamics of the compositional process of this narrative tradition. 8. The Gospel of Matthew has been evaluated in stark contradiction to what is known of the compositional process at work in the larger environment from which it emerged (exemplied in Qumran materials, the Pauline corpus, Johan-

XVIII

Theses for Consideration and Debate

nine writings, rabbinical materials). This privileged position can no longer be presumed. 9. This projection of a fixed and final text consciously shaped by an author in control of his sources (whether as apostle, evangelist, theologian, or literary genius) functions in an apologetic role: it generates an aura of authority for the author, for the text, and for the interpreter. 10. Since reference to a singular author or to a unified redactional strategy or to a fixed form of the text cannot account for the narrative profile of the Gospel of Matthew and has failed to clarify its social and theological location, the narrative profile and social/theological location of the Gospel of Matthew are best explained by its larger history of composition and transmission. 11. The characterization of the Gospel of Matthew as a Living Tradition (a term developed and explored throughout this work) generates a starkly different image of the composition, setting, and transmission of this gospel. I will argue that the Gospel of Matthew emerges from a dialogical and dialectical process of competing traditions within Judaism. 12. These qualities of flexibility and fluidity are not simply anecdotal; they are essential and generative in nature. They are central to what this gospel is and to how it operates. 13. These traits suggest the Gospel of Matthew, which has been read as a personified and punctilear text, is more properly understood in light of the collective and durative process (Tradition History) through which it was produced. The Gospel of Matthew represents the dialectical engagement and appropriation of competing traditions sponsored by differing communities within the early Jesus movement. 14. The Gospel of Matthew is thus an example of oeuvre mouvante – a work in process. This process explains how this text was produced, but it also clarifies what it is and how it functions. I will argue that the Gospel of Matthew emerges in a conflicted environment that is wholly Jewish and that it engages this environment through a strategy that is both reflective and prospective in nature.

Introduction The text of the Gospel of Matthew is, in its own right, a worthy object of investigation. At the same time, however, a critical analysis of this gospel can provide a window through which to observe the construction and transmission of ancient texts and traditions and to raise key questions about the dynamics of that process. Such an investigation can also bring to the foreground the dynamics involved in the construction of identity, and it can provide insight into the process by which a group of people establish their place on the map. Who wrote the Gospel of Matthew? When and where was it composed? Why was it penned? To whom was it written and for what purpose? These questions, asked long before the modern era, are the concerns at the heart of current scholarship on the Gospel of Matthew. Recent scholarship shares in common, almost without exception, a focus on the author Matthew as the key to understanding this text and its social and theological location. Despite this nearly universal focus on the role of Matthew, every major question is answered in contradictory ways, and this by competent scholars citing supportive evidence from the same text. This narrow approach to the composition of the text not only leads to contradictory answers; it also flattens out the underlying question of social and cultural dynamics, transmission of tradition, and construction of identity. If Matthew is a conscious author in control of the text, he has, for the most part, taken care of these complexities. Here I wish to explore a different understanding of how the Gospel of Matthew was produced. I will suggest that the primary dynamic behind the construction of this gospel is not its author, but other factors. If this is shown to be the case, the conflicting answers to the key questions raised by scholars may be seen in a different light. Furthermore, as the image of Matthew the author moves to the background, other key dynamics move to the foreground of investigation. I wish to suggest that the primary key to the identity and strategy of the Gospel of Matthew lies not in some form of authorial intent or design, but in a two-way conversation, even negotiation, between community and composer – or communities and composers. Beyond the issue of “who wrote Matthew”, this suggestion goes to the heart of the question about the dynamics for the development of early Christianity, particularly in relationship to the historical Jesus and to its Jewish matrix. In particular, I wish to challenge, once again, the myth

2

Introduction

of an incipient orthodoxy – an early church driven toward unity and orthodoxy by literature forged under the didactic hand of apostles or evangelists. I also wish to challenge the myth that Christianity defined itself primarily against external challenges from groups such as rabbinic Judaism and Gnosticism. I will argue that the Gospel of Matthew is a Living Tradition – a debate among competing voices – both in its composition and in its endurance. This developmental process provides the key to its identity, and this identity explains the disjunctive nature of both its presentation and its history of interpretation. I also wish to argue that the process observed in the Gospel of Matthew gives insight into the way in which ancient groups sought to establish their place and identity on the map of antiquity. At the heart of this story is a world run by Rome, with its armies and roads and its Hellenistic mindset. In the aftermath of the Roman destruction of the Temple (70 ce), various groups are seeking to recover the heritage of conquered Israel and to posit themselves as its continuing voice. Two of these groups, both with imperial patronage, will eventually impose their grand narrative upon the ideological map of antiquity. The rabbis will begin to record their traditions in the form of the Mishnah and eventually gather it into the Talmud. In this act they lay claim to be the sole authentic voice and the face of Judaism – and thus the continuation of the story of Israel. Christian orthodoxy will also claim to speak with one voice as the authentic bearer of the tradition of Jesus, the Jewish messiah – and thus to be the fulfillment or the replacement of Israel. In the last decades of the first century of the common era, those voices are not yet established, but the race has begun. I will argue here that the Gospel of Matthew stands at the crossroads – in temporal, geographical, and ideological terms – of that developmental process. I will argue that the Gospel of Matthew not only stands at the crossroads of that debate, but that it already contains within itself the voices of competing traditions that will eventually redraw the landscape of antiquity. These voices will prove louder, more important, and more enduring than any of the myriad reconstructions of Matthew the author.

Chapter One

The History of Matthew Who wrote the Gospel of Matthew? When and where was it composed? Why was it penned? To whom was it written and for what purpose? Such are the concerns at the heart of current scholarship on the Gospel of Matthew. These questions were raised, however, long before the advent of critical study of the Bible in the 16th century.

1.0 Matthew the Apostle The church historian Eusebius (4th century ce), concerned with the distinction between the gospels, quotes Papias, the bishop of Hieropolis (from c. 110–125 ce). Papias said that Matthew made an ordered arrangement of logia of the Lord in the Hebrew dialect, and everyone interpreted them as they were able.1

For Papias, Matthew’s collection of the logia (sayings) of Jesus distinguishes it from the Gospel of Mark. Mark, having become the interpreter of Peter, wrote down accurately whatever he remembered of the things said and done by the Lord, but not however in order. For neither did he hear the Lord, nor did he follow him, but afterwards, as I said, Peter, who adapted his teachings to the needs of the hearers, but not as though he were drawing up a connected account of the Lord’s logia.2

Papias, as reported by Eusebius, seems to defend the Gospel of Mark for its lack of order in relation to the Gospel of Matthew. For Papias, Mark is not an eyewitness, but one who interprets the memories of what Peter adapted for “the needs of his hearers.” Papias also distinguishes between the “ordered arrangement of logia” in the Gospel of Matthew and the fact that Mark was not “drawing up a connected account of the Lord’s logia.” Papias credits this, in part, to the fact that Mark is not a witness to the teaching of Jesus, and this probably means that Papias thought Matthew was a firsthand witness. Is the difference for Papias simply a matter of organization – both wrote logia but Matthew’s account was 1 2

 Eusebius, HE, 3.39.16  Eusebius, HE, 3.39.15

4

Chapter One: The History of Matthew

in order? The saying could also mean that Matthew wrote the logia (sayings) of Jesus, but Mark did not. Mark, says Papias, wrote down what Peter remembered of “the things said and done by the Lord.” While this may appear to be something of an apology or explanation for Mark’s work, what Papias says about the Gospel of Matthew is equally important. First, Papias says that this work is a gospel, suggesting this term is recognized early in the 2nd century – in some places at least – as a written version of the story of Jesus. Secondly, Papias seems to describe a carefully arranged account. Thirdly, Papias says this account centers on the sayings (logia) of Jesus. If these descriptions are not pressed too much, then they are in basic agreement with how the Gospel of Matthew is typically seen in modern scholarship. Almost no scholars, however, accept that the Gospel of Matthew, as currently known, was written in Hebrew and then translated. While Eusebius says that Papias was talking about the Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of Mark, it appears that Irenaeus, in the second half of the 2nd century ce, first speaks of all four of the New Testament gospels. A great deal of scholarship has sought to find citations of the Gospel of Matthew in the apostolic fathers and even within the New Testament itself. While early traditions are certainly used, this evidence is ambiguous and inconclusive. Hans Dieter Betz concludes that “An influence of the entire Gospel of Matthew, as we have it at present, is impossible to demonstrate up to and including the time of Justin Martyr (died c. 163 or 167).”3 Among the early writers to comment on the Gospel of Matthew are Irenaeus (died c. 200); Clement of Alexandria (c. 140 or 150 to 215?); and Tertullian (c. 160–220). For these and the stream of commentaries and sermons that followed, the key issues were: 1) how Matthew had conveyed to the church the central teaching of Jesus, and 2) how this contrasted with Jewish ideas and practices. Differences and contradictions within the Gospel of Matthew were generally not an issue. Many noticed, however, the differences between the Sermon on the Mount (Mt 5–7) and the Sermon on the Plain (Lk 6.20–49). Among early interpreters, Origin, Chrysostom, Euthymius, and Theophylactus believed Jesus had given two versions of the same speech.4 Augustine, in contrast, argued there were two speeches: the Sermon on the Mount is esoteric instruction for the apostles only, while the Sermon on the Plain is shorter, clearer, and intended for the public.5 It was likely John Calvin (1509–1564) who first recognized the composite nature of the material. Calvin saw that both accounts are collections that seek to bring together things Jesus taught on various occasions and thus provide a guide for discipleship:  Hans Dieter Betz, The Sermon on the Mount (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995), p. 7.  This is discussed by Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, pp. 17,20. 5 Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, p. 20. 3 4

1.0 Matthew the Apostle

5

Both evangelists had the intention of gathering into one single passage the chief headings of Christ’s teaching …. It should be enough for reverent and humble readers that here, before their eyes, they have set a short summary of the teaching of Christ, gathered from many and various discourses … .6

Two questions are consistent in this developing line of interpretation. The first concern is with what Jesus taught – especially in contrast to Judaism. The second interest is how Matthew conveyed Jesus’ teaching to the church. Thus, the Gospel of Matthew was seen as an apostolic text that faithfully records the teaching of Jesus and transmits it to the church. Even at the beginning of the Enlightenment, scholars still defended the idea that Matthew, in the Sermon on the Mount, had presented the words of Jesus. Johann Jakob Hess (1741–1828) said: The main purpose of it was to hand over to his (not yet completed number of) devotees a religious doctrine and ethics, thoroughly anti-Pharisaic in nature, which took the form of easily memorable maxims and sayings arranged under certain main rubrics. And this was done in such a practical manner and presented in a form so completely adaptable to their situation at that time, as well as in the future, that it could shape their religious minds completely in accordance with his.7

The emphasis on the distance from Judaism also continues: No synagogue, not even the temple in the capital, could make a solemn impression such as this. Nothing in this circumstance belonged to the formalities that accompanied the customary lecturing of Jewish teachers.8

Even when scholars began to recognize redactional intrusions into the Sermon on the Mount, some argued that these did not diminish this text as a direct account of the teaching of Jesus.9 This line of interpretation, despite the critical standards of the Enlightenment, would encourage the 19th century lives of Jesus. These writers believed their task was to separate out the true images of Jesus from the accoutrements of the culture and the worldview of the writers. Before this movement, however, Thomas Jefferson made an extraordinary attempt to isolate the true teaching of Jesus. Jefferson believed that Jesus was the greatest moral teacher of all history. While the lives of Jesus typically construct a social and psychological profile, Jefferson sought to separate out Jesus’ true teaching. To do so, he produced the Jefferson Bible. Trained in classics, Jefferson compared six accounts of the Bible, including French, Latin, Greek, and the English King James Version. He cut out what he considered the authentic teaching of Jesus and pasted the various versions side by side to create a new text. 6  Cited by Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, p. 17. Betz notes that Augustine took the position that Jesus delivered two addresses. 7  Cited and discussed in Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, p. 19. 8  Cited and discussed in Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, p. 20. 9 Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, pp. 21–22.

6

Chapter One: The History of Matthew

For Jefferson, these authentic teachings, when removed from the superstitious additions of the apostles, contained “”the most sublime and benevolent code of morals which has never been offered to man.”10 While various lines of development may be seen, there is a strong common cord. Almost without exception, Matthew was seen as an apostolic figure who is giving direct testimony to the teaching of Jesus.

2.0 Matthew the Compiler (Source Criticism) In the 19th century Heinrich Julius Holtzmann and others opened a new stage in scholarship.11 The quest for Jesus’ first speech was redirected to the sources employed in the presentation of those words.12 The Sermon on the Mount and the Sermon on the Plain were seen not as variations of each other, but as different appropriations of a common source. Beyond the fact that both were constructed, this further meant that neither was a direct account of the teachings of Jesus – they were revisions of a common text. The focus thus shifted from Jesus to the traditions about him, but it also shifted from Matthew the Apostle to Matthew as a compiler, arranger, and manager of early Christian tradition. In the era that followed, it was Matthew who was in charge of the Sermon on the Mount: he had expanded an earlier source, organized it around a new theme, and relocated it to the beginning of Jesus’ ministry to illustrate his teaching.13 Holtzmann believed that Matthew still retained the teaching of Jesus: “To Matthew, therefore, belong the disposition and association of ideas, to Jesus the individual apophthegmata that fill out the plan of composition.”14 This focus quickly moved to the question of how Matthew had done this. The first answer was sought in the sources employed. The relation between the two versions of the Sermon was considered, but also the relationship among the gospels themselves. Scholars soon realized there was some form of interdependence between the first three of the gospels and that the Gospel of John stood in a category by itself. Extensive time and effort was given to the interrelationship of the three synoptic gospels, with Markan priority winning the day. 10  “How Thomas Jefferson created his own Bible,” http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-​c​u​ l​​ture/how-thomas-jefferson-created-his-own-bible-5659505/. The 1804 version, now lost, contained some 46 pages of what Jesus said and was entitled The Philosophy of Jesus of Nazareth. The 1840 version was entitled The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth. It was 84 pages long and contained both words and deeds of Jesus that Jefferson thought authentic. 11  Holtzmann’s work appeared in 1863: Die synoptischen Evangelien, ihr Ursprung und geschichtlicher Charakter (Leipzig: Engelmann, 1863). See the discussion in Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, pp. 22–24. 12  Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, p. 22. 13  Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, p. 24. 14 Cited in Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, pp. 24–25.

3.0 Matthew the Stage Manager (Form Criticism)

7

Once Markan priority was established, the material shared between the Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of Luke suggested a common written source. Johann Gottfried Eichhorn (1752–1827) argued that Matthew and Luke drew their common material from two different forms of a written source; thus, this source was already edited before they received it and deployed it in their own gospels. Eichhorn further argued that the version used by Matthew was a redactional work that addressed the needs and interests of Jewish Christianity.15 This tradition, composed primarily of the sayings of Jesus, would come to be labeled as the Sayings Source and designated by the letter Q. The recognition of Q goes back to the work of Christian Hermann Weisse (1801–1866).16 Scholars would eventually concede the point of Eichhorn by designating two forms of the Sayings Tradition (Qmt and Qlk). Even these give no direct access to the words of Jesus, since they are written Greek translations of what was originally oral material in Aramaic. Scholars thus came to the realization that most of the issues about the interrelationship of the three synoptic gospels could be explained by a reference to two sources. The Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of Luke each based their work on the Gospel of Mark, but supplemented this framework by inserting the sayings of Jesus, drawn from their own versions of the Sayings Tradition (Q). Eventually, scholarship would designate the special materials unique to the Gospel of Matthew as M and those unique to the Gospel of Luke as L. Scholars presumed that sources were also employed in the Gospel of Mark, but these remained largely beyond the reach of scholarship. These new insights realigned the interpretive grid. The key to the Gospel of Matthew was now found in the way ancient traditions had been preserved, then expanded and shaped into a distinct narrative to address a specific audience. For many, these ancient traditions contained, at least at some level, the teaching of Jesus. Matthew was thus seen as the mediator of these primitive traditions of Jesus. In the eyes of the Form Critics, however, the issue was more complicated than that.

3.0 Matthew the Stage Manager (Form Criticism) For Form Critics, another stage stood between the reader and the teaching of Jesus. They argued that the gospel material had circulated in specific forms and according to standard rules among early followers of Jesus.17 The key to this  Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, p. 25. the discussion by Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, p. 26, especially note 199. 17  Hermann Gunkel used Form Criticism to categorize the components and the dynamics of the Psalms. Rudolf Bultmann, Karl Schmidt, Martin Dibelius and others developed Form Criticism for New Testament materials, especially the Synoptic Gospels. 15

16 See

8

Chapter One: The History of Matthew

process was the formal shaping of the texts and their use in specific life settings such as worship, debate, missions. Thus, the teaching of Jesus had already been adapted – in its use within early Christian communities – before it was passed on to the gospel writers.18 This impacted how the tradition was seen in two significant ways. This was no longer considered the direct teaching of Jesus, and it was now seen as a Christian tradition operating mostly in isolation from Judaism. This view also changed the role of Matthew. Matthew was no longer simply passing on the words of Jesus; he was instead charged with the task of sorting out and arranging the various traditions into a coherent narrative. This was done through selection, ordering and arranging, but also through the construction of narrative frameworks, introductions, transitions, and conclusions.19 For Form Critics, the traditions followed definitive patterns and had a specific setting in the life of the early churches. Having isolated these traditions within the gospels, Form Critics were primarily interested in the role these smaller traditions played in primitive Christianity. They gave less attention to the larger framework of the gospel narratives. That task would be taken up by the proponents of redaction criticism, and a new understanding of Matthew would emerge.

4.0 Matthew the Editor and Theologian (Redaction Criticism) Redaction critics gave attention to the language and style of the Gospel of Matthew and to the framing of the blocks of material. Redaction critics also investigated ways in which editorial activity might be a tool of theological construction by the evangelists. They did this by focusing on patterns and changes within the narrative that could portray the evangelist’s interests and designs. The groundbreaking study of Bornkamm, Barth, and Held20 developed and applied the model to the Gospel of Matthew.21 Noting the work of the source 18  This was already seen by Carl Georg Friedrich Heinrici (1844–1915), who argued that the Sermon on the Mount and the Sermon on the Plain are not reproductions of the teaching of Jesus, but rather reconstruction. Furthermore, there is no one source common to the two. Both are secondary “reconstructions of a foundational speech of Jesus, in two versions, and not dependent on a common source.” Heinrici believed the Sermon on the Mount belongs to a Jewish and Palestinian ethos, while the Sermon on the Plain does not. This is cited and discussed in Betz, The Sermon on the Mount, pp. 27–28. 19  Luke, for example, was said to have moved the sermon at Nazareth to the beginning of Jesus’ ministry in order to make it a paradigmatic account of who Jesus was and what he taught. Matthew moved the acclamation of Jesus as one who “teaches with authority” from its Markan connection to miracles and (re)associated it with the words of Jesus – a more natural connection. 20 Gunther Bornkamm, Gerhard Barth, and Heinz Joachim Held, Tradition and Interpretation in Matthew (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1963). 21  The Gospel of Luke was analyzed by Hans Conzelmann, and the Gospel Mark was analyzed by Willi Marxsen.

4.0 Matthew the Editor and Theologian (Redaction Criticism)

9

critics in separating tradition and redaction, Bornkamm, Barth, and Held argued that form-critical work must be “continued in a new direction.”22 This is because the Synoptic writers show – all three and each in his own special way – by their editing and construction, by their selection, inclusion and omission, and not least by what at first sight appears an insignificant, but on closer examination is seen to be a characteristic treatment of the traditional material, that they are by no means mere collectors and handers-on of the tradition, but interpreters of it.23

Bornkamm, Barth, and Held saw Matthew consciously shaping the the narrative for theological purposes: … Matthew presents Jesus at the beginning of his Gospel not only as the ‘Messiah of the word’ and the ‘Messiah of deed’ but also as the one who commissions, who gives his disciples authority to do the same Messianic work.24

The theological contribution of Matthew is also described: … Matthew has collected the miracle narratives of Jesus in only one passage (Matt. 8–9). In light of the evangelist’s composition it is easy to see why he has proceeded in this way. The similarly worded verses in Matt. 4.23 and 9.35 show by their contents … and their position … that Matthew’s purpose in the chapters enclosed by these verses is to portray the double office of Christ: his teaching and his healing activity. His collection of the miraculous deeds of Jesus thus has a Christological function. The evangelist presents Jesus at the beginning of his Gospel not only as the Messiah of the word (in the Sermon on the Mount) but also as the Messiah of deed (by his miraculous deeds). … The conclusion of the collection of miracles also shows that the evangelist has arranged them under the theme of Christology.25

Redaction critics eventually began to ask why Matthew made such changes and what audience or situation the evangelist addressed with this construction. W. D. Davies opened a new era of investigation in The Setting of the Sermon on the Mount.26 Davies argued, along with many others, that the Gospel of Matthew was written in the period after the fall of the Temple (70 ce) – a period in which Judaism was in disarray. Taking his clues from Josephus and later rabbinic works, Davies noted that Pharisaic Judaism was establishing itself through the synagogues as the new norm and authority for Jewish identity. While Essenes, Sadducees, and Zealots were largely a thing of the past, the Pharisaic forms of Judaism were exerting their authority through rabbinic codes later found in the Mishnah. The center of this authority, says Davies, was the academy of rabbis in Jamnia. From here rabbis could assert their authority as interpreters of Jewish  Bornkamm, Barth, and Held, Tradition and Interpretation in Matthew, p. 11.  Bornkamm, Barth, and Held, Tradition and Interpretation in Matthew, p. 12. 24 Bornkamm, Barth, and Held, Tradition and Interpretation in Matthew, p. 252. 25  Bornkamm, Barth, and Held, Tradition and Interpretation in Matthew, pp. 246–47. 26  W. D. Davies, The Setting of the Sermon on the Mount (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1964). 22 23

10

Chapter One: The History of Matthew

Law and as the regulators of daily life. As such, they could sanction those who disagreed or opposed them. Davies argued that Jewish Christians were seen as heretics by the rabbis and they, along with other groups, were expelled from the synagogues. One of the ways of doing this, said Davies, was imposition of the birkhat ha minim, a curse against heretics, into the synagogue liturgy.27 This had the effect of requiring followers of Jesus to identify themselves and made them subject to expulsion. Davies argued that the Gospel of Matthew, and especially the Sermon on the Mount, is “a Christian response to Jamnia.”28 While various aspects of Davies’ position would be challenged, it provided a new way of reading the Gospel of Matthew. Matthew’s redactional strategy was no longer simply one of personal style or ideas; it was no longer simply theological reflection upon traditional material. Instead, Matthew was manipulating the story of Jesus to address a specific historical crisis, and he was doing so in behalf of a specific community of Christians. This connection to historical situation and to community interests would prevail through the next decades of scholarship on the Gospel of Matthew. Matthew would become the theologian speaking for his community, particularly in its struggle with Judaism. This move beyond the questions of personal style and tastes into the historical setting of the larger narrative was accompanied by wider thinking about Matthew’s interaction with the traditions. If Matthew was seeking to counter the Pharisaic authority and to explain the Christian movement, then he might be less a handler of tradition and more a theologian in his own right. New attention was given to Matthew’s constructive theology: to Matthew’s Christology, to Matthew’s view of salvation history, to Matthew’s attitude to the Law, to Matthew’s view of discipleship and church,29 and other theological issues. Matthew the apostle and evangelist had now become, in redaction criticism, a competent author with a theological agenda. Redaction critics attended to the language and style of Matthew and to his manipulation of traditions through techniques such as framing, omissions, introductions, summaries, and allusions. They also investigated ways in which editorial activity might be a tool of theological construction by the evangelists. They gave less attention, however, to the ways such traditions and editorial changes operated within the larger narrative world, and they rarely considered issues such as plot and characterization. That task would be undertaken by proponents of narrative criticism.

27  For discussion of the whether such a curse plays a role in this period, see Edwin Broadhead, Jewish Ways of Following Jesus, (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), pp. 290–96. 28 Davies, The Setting of the Sermon on the Mount, p. 315. This is cited and discussed in Donald Senior, What are they Saying about Matthew? (New York: Paulist Press, revised and expanded edition, 1996), pp. 8–10. 29 All titles of chapters in Donald Senior’s What are they Saying about Matthew?

5.0 Matthew the Literary Genius

11

5.0 Matthew the Literary Genius Narrative critics looked upon the gospels as literature and upon Matthew as an author. They turned not only to issues such as plot, characterization, story world, narrative world, implied author, implied narrator, but also to the questions of intentionality. As a consequence, most narrative critics began to see Matthew as a personification of the interests and strategies of the text. This persona has grown larger through recent studies. Even those who enter disclaimers about the difference between a real author and the implied author or between the narrator of the text and the narrator within the text often revert to language of authorial design and intent. Alan Culpepper,30 for example, uses language that evokes the image of Matthew as an intentional author in control of his text. Culpepper says that the use of implicit commentary suggests that the evangelists tied the developing self-understanding of the emerging Christian communities to the death of Jesus. Mark interprets the church as a new ‘temple not made with hands’. Matthew relates the death of Jesus to the signs of the end-time and the hope of resurrection. Luke provides ethical instruction for the church, interpreting Jesus’ martyrdom as a noble death, and John develops a rich portrait by which the church could define itself through the themes, images, and allusions of the Johannine passion narrative.31

In many cases, the focus on language, style, editorial changes, and theological construction emboldens commentators to personify the text and to psychologize and expand the portrait of Matthew. What exactly did Matthew have on his table when he composed the gospel? One wonders. Strewn upon his tabletop would no doubt have been a copy of some form of Mark, possibly another document or a collection of written traditions (Q), and papyri and other items upon which were inscribed bits of Jesus tradition, sayings, miracle stories, parables, etc. Additionally, he would have had scrolls of OT texts (e. g., MT, Aramaic, LXX or some other Greek translation of Isaiah, Jeremiah, Psalms, etc.) or, at the very least, testimony collections.32

Even when a scholar takes seriously the power of the sources employed in the Gospel of Matthew, it is easy to slip into the language of authorial intent and personality profile.

30  Culpepper wrote the first intentially literary analysis of the Gospel of John. See R. Alan Culpepper, Anatomy of a Gospel: A Study in Literary Design (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1983). 31  R. Alan Culpepper, “Designs for the Church in the Gospel Accounts of Jesus’ Death,” New Testament Studies 51 (2005), p. 376. 32  Richard C. Beaton, “How Matthew writes,” in The Written Gospel, ed. Markus Bockmuehl and Donald Hagner (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 116. Beaton is fully aware of the power of traditions and the complexity of composition.

12

Chapter One: The History of Matthew

Methodologically controllable questions can be raised solely with regard to the structure consciously intended by the evangelist, not about a structure independent of that, existing on the level of the text alone …. If no continuous structure can be discovered, it would not necessarily mean that Matthew is a poor author; an intention of the evangelist might be hidden which would have to be interpreted.33

Some more emphatically say that the first emphasis of interpretation should be “the individuality and creative achievement of theologians and evangelists.”34 As these illustrations show, in most recent studies Matthew is a fully aware author who intentionally shapes the narrative – in both its form and its theology – to address a community in crisis. Often accompanying this personalized and idealized portrait of Matthew is a flat and stereotypical view of the world around Matthew: Israel, Judaism, the community, the church, early Christianity, the parting of the ways between Judaism and Christianity. Matthew wrote his gospel as a ‘foundation document’ for a cluster of Christian communities, probably in Syria in the mid 80s. The evangelist and the original recipients of his gospel saw themselves as a ‘new people’, minority Christian communities over against both Judaism and the Gentile world at large. … Matthew’s gospel legitimates the recent painful separation of Matthean communities from Judaism by providing divine sanction for the parting of the ways: as a result of the hostility of the Jewish leaders to Jesus and his followers, God himself has disclosed to the ‘new people’ that Jesus is the Son of God.35

Similar descriptions can be found from various scholars.36 This approach often results in a grand narrative constructed in the name of Matthew. While pre-critical interpreters believed, for the most part, that Matthew passed on to the church the teachings of Jesus that distinguished Jesus’ message from his Jewish opposition, more recent narratives suggest that Matthew, skillful artist and theologian, constructed the message about Jesus in order to justify the church in its break from Judaism. These grand narratives are often constructed around a series of binary oppositions: Israel and the church; the synagogue and the community; the synagogue and the church; Jews and  Luz, Matthew 1–7, p. 35. Frankemölle, “Evangelist und Gemeinde: Eine methodenkritische Besinnung mit Beispielen aus dem Matthäusevangelium,” Bib. 60 (1979), pp. 153–90, cited and discussed in Luz, Matthew 1–7, pp. 34–35. 35  Graham Stanton, A Gospel for a New People: Studies in Matthew (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1992), p. 378. 36  Ulrich Luz slips into this language on occasions. He speaks of “… the deep identity crisis into which the separation from Israel will have plunged the church” (Luz, Matthew 21–28, p. 173). Luz also says that “Matthew remains a Jew, understands himself not as the representative of a new religion but as an Israelite, and never would have accepted the charge of anti-Judaism” (p. 173). In Matthew 1–7, p. 162, Luz combines a number of flat images: “The Jewish-Christian Matthew, for whose community the separation from Israel was intensely traumatic, emphasizes the claim of the community to the Bible.” See also Matthew 21–28, p. 641, where Luz says, “In this story of conflict Matthew works through his own pain over the separation from ‘Mother’ Israel.” 33

34 Hubert

7.0 Contradictory Views of Matthew in Current Scholarship

13

Gentiles; Israel and the world. Both the popular and the critical forms of this grand narrative depend upon the imagined profile of Matthew, and both tend toward flat, sweeping, and stereotypical constructions of the world into which Matthew’s message was spoken.

6.0 Overview: the History of Matthew There is a common element to these varied approaches to the Gospel of Matthew. At each stage – and almost without exception – the key to the gospel is the person of Matthew: his apostolic standing, his eyewitness status, his inspiration, his management of sources, his theological purposes, his literary skill. At each stage, then and now, the key to the Gospel of Matthew has been found in understanding the persona of Matthew.

7.0 Contradictory Views of Matthew in Current Scholarship If understanding Matthew has been seen as the key to understanding the Gospel of Matthew, it might surprise casual readers how widely and to what extent critical scholarship disagrees on how to answer the central questions about this gospel. 7.1 Conflicting Answers to Current Questions about the Gospel of Matthew Donald Senior has, on various occasions, chronicled developments within studies on the Gospel of Matthew. His 1996 edition, entitled What are they saying about Matthew?, considers the answers to various key questions.37 7.1.1 Was Matthew Jewish or Gentile? Beyond the claim of Papias (in Eusebius) that Matthew wrote in Hebrew, the only evidence about the identity of Matthew is found in the text of the gospel. From this evidence scholars argue two different understandings of Matthew. For most, Matthew was a Jewish Christian. While a few would take the call of the tax collector in Mt 9.9 as an autobiographical statement, most scholars locate Matthew as a Jewish Christian from a later generation. A few offer more specific traits. For Reinhart Hummel, Matthew is a converted Pharisee who was a scribe.38

 Senior, What are they Saying about Matthew?  Reinhart Hummerl, Die Auseinandersetzung zwischen Kirche und Judentum im Matthäusevangelium (München: Kaiser Verlag, 1963). 37 38

14

Chapter One: The History of Matthew

Douglas Hare believes the harsh tones used of Judaism point to the pain of separation felt by Matthew because of the separation from his own people.39 Ulrich Luz says that “the Gospel of Matthew comes from a Jewish-Christian community and from a Jewish-Christian author.”40 He then lists reasons for this position:41 1. The structure and composition of the gospel show the influence of Jewish literature. 2. The key sources for this gospel (Mark and the Sayings Tradition) come from Jewish Christian communities. 3. The language of the gospel is similar to the Septuagint and shows Jewish linguistic characteristics. 4. The theology of this gospel, especially its appeal to the Old Testament, suggests a Jewish-Christian author. 5. This gospel was subsequently embraced within Jewish-Christianity.

In contrast to this majority opinion, a few scholars still argue, on the basis of the text, that Matthew is a Gentile author.42 Most of these would explain the Jewish focus as traces of an earlier stage, then claim the final redaction comes from a Gentile author. For many, the key issue is the harsh rhetoric and the level of antagonism directed toward Pharisaic Judaism in the Gospel of Matthew. For some scholars, such harsh rhetoric could only come from a Gentile community and author. 7.1.2 Was Matthew’s Community Jewish or Gentile? A similar disparity can be seen in the question about Matthew’s community. While most envision a mixed community of Jewish and Gentile followers of Jesus, David Sim consistently interprets the gospel, its author, and its community as a group of Jesus’ followers who are thoroughly Jewish.43 7.1.3 What is Matthew’s View on the Law? Matthew’s view of the Law is understood in different ways. An older view, rooted in a long history of interpretation, is that Matthew is giving a new Law. The 39  Douglas Hare, The Theme of Jewish Persecution of Christians in the Gospel According to St. Matthew (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967). 40 Luz, Matthew 1–7, p. 80. 41  Luz, Matthew 1–7, pp. 80–81. 42  Among those holding this position are Paul Nepper-Christensen, Das Matthaüsevangelium. Ein judenchristliches Evangelium? (Aarhus: Universitetsforlaget, 1958); John Meier, The Vision of Matthew: Christ, Church, and Morality in the First Gospel (New York: Paulist, 1979); Georg Strecker, Der Weg der Gerechtigkeit. Untersuchung zur Theologie des Matthäus (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1962); Hubert Frankemölle, Jahwebund und Kirche Christi (Münster: Aschendorff, 1974). 43  David Sim, The Gospel of Matthew and Christian Judaism: The History and Social Setting of the Matthean Community (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998).

7.0 Contradictory Views of Matthew in Current Scholarship

15

classic expression of this view was given by Benjamin Bacon, who argued that the five discourses are Matthew’s replacement of the Pentateuch.44 Most recent positions are more nuanced. Following Gerhard Barth, numerous scholars have argued that Matthew is fighting on two fronts: a legalistic Pharisaism and antinomian trends in his own community.45 Hans Dieter Betz argues that this gospel contains within it two very different positions on the Law: the Sermon on the Mount calls for absolute observance, while the rest of the gospel is more compromising.46 A host of scholars argue that Matthew intends full obedience to the Law, but only as it is interpreted and applied through Jesus.47 7.1.4 What is the Key Focus of Matthew’s Christology? A similar diversity and contradiction is found in scholarly opinions on the Christology of Matthew. Many still see the various titles (Son of God, Son of Man, Son of David, Christ) as the key.48 Some think Matthew is presenting Jesus as the new Moses.49 Others see the key in the images of Wisdom.50 For some, the healing stories hold the key to Matthew’s Christological strategy.51 7.1.5 Have Matthew and his Community Separated from the Synagogue? Perhaps the most contested issue in recent scholarship is the question of social location: have Matthew and his community separated from the synagogue? Much of scholarship reads the painful words of woe and condemnation pronounced 44  Benjamin Bacon, “The Five Books of Matthew against the Jews,” The Expositor 15 (1918), pp. 55–56. 45 Gerhard Barth, Tradition and Interpretation in Matthew (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1963); Robert Gundry, Matthew: A Commentary on His Literary and Theological Art (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982); Gundry’s 2nd edition appeared in 1994 as Matthew: A Commentary on His Handbook for a Mixed Church Under Persecution. 46 Betz, The Sermon on the Mount. See, for example, pp. 166–97. 47  Among these are Hammerton-Kelly, “Attitudes to the Law in Matthew’s Gospel: A Discussion of Matthew 5:18,” Biblical Research 17 (1972), pp. 19–32; Alexander Sand, Das Gesetz und die Propheten: Untersuchungen zur Theologie des Evangeliums nach Matthäus (Regensburg: Friedrich Pustet, 1974); Klyne Snodgrass, “Matthew’s Understanding of the Law,” Interpretation 46 (1992), pp. 368–78; Ulrich Luz, Matthew 1–7. 48 Among many, see Jack Kingsbury, Structure, Christology, Kingdom (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975). 49  W. D. Davies and Dale Allison, Matthew, International Critical Commentary (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1997). 50  Jack Suggs, Wisdom, Christology, and Law in Matthew’s Gospel (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1970). 51 Heinz Joachim Held, “Matthew as Interpreter of the Miracle Stories,” in Bornkamm, Barth, and Held, Tradition and Interpretation in Matthew, pp. 165–299; Jack Kingsbury, “Observations on the Miracle Chapters of Matthew 8–9,” CBQ 40 (1978), pp. 559–73; Birger Gerhardsson, The Mighty Acts of Jesus According to Matthew (Lund: CWK Gleerup, 1979).

16

Chapter One: The History of Matthew

upon the Pharisees and concludes that the separation now lies in the past.52 Most of these view the separation as recent and believe it still impacts the community situation. The most articulate voice of this position is found in the commentary of Ulrich Luz: The Matthean community, whose mission in Israel has come to an end, no longer belongs to the Jewish synagogue system. The fissure between community and synagogue is final. Any attempts to situate the Matthean community within the Jewish synagogue system must be considered a failure.53

Luz believes this situation is the context for the harsh condemnations of Pharisees and other Jews. In this story of conflict Matthew works through his own pain over the separation from “Mother” Israel. There are harsh and wholesale condemnations of Pharisees and scribes (chap. 23) that can be justified neither historically nor, from the perspective of Jesus’ message of love of one’s enemies, theologically, and there are skillfully malicious historical fictions (27.24–25, 62–66; 28.11–15). They can only be understood from the particular historical situation of that day and from the situation of postdecision conflict. Here we encounter the darkest and most problematic side of the Matthean story of Jesus.54

Other scholars contend the break has not yet happened.55 These interpreters usually highlight the ongoing nature of the conflict, and many suggest a church in transition. Most who take this position believe, however, that the parting is imminent. These two positions are not simply anecdotal: they go to the heart of how one reads and understands the Gospel of Matthew. In essence, the question becomes whether the harsh criticism against Pharisees and other Jews is said in their absence or in a face-to-face confrontation. At stake is the question of whether one can already read anti-Jewish elements within the pages of this gospel.

52 Included here would be Ulrich Luz, Matthew 1–7; Graham Stanton, A Gospel for a New People: Studies in Matthew (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1992); Douglas Hare, The Theme of Jewish Persecution of Christians; Georg Strecker, Der Weg der Gerechtigkeit. Untersuchung zur Theologie des Matthäus; David Garland, Reading Matthew: A Literary and Theological Commentary (Macon: Smyth & Helwys, 2001); Sjef Van Tilborg, The Jewish Leaders in Matthew (Leiden: Brill, 1972). See the discussion by Senior, What are they Saying about Matthew?, pp. 10–20. 53  Luz, Matthew 1–7, p. 88. 54  Luz, Matthew 21–28, p. 641. 55 Among these are Davies and Allison, Matthew; David Sim, The Gospel of Matthew and Christian Judaism: The History and Social Setting of the Matthean Community (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998); Jack Kingsbury, Structure, Christology, Kingdom (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1975); Andrew Overman, Matthew’s Gospel and Formative Judaism: The Social World of the Matthean Community (Minneapolis: Augsburg Press, 1990); Anthony Saldarini, Matthew’s Christian-Jewish Community (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994). See the discussion by Senior, What are they Saying about Matthew?, pp. 10–20.

7.0 Contradictory Views of Matthew in Current Scholarship

17

7.2 Conflicting Views on Discipleship and Ecclesiology A recent group of scholars considered the question What light does Matthew’s use of Mark in relation to Discipleship and Ecclesiology throw on Matthew’s theological location? The question itself requires source and tradition criticism, but it especially evokes the concerns of redactional criticism and narrative studies. A selection of recent answers to this question illustrates the diverse ways in which, though reading a common text, scholars answer the question.56 7.2.1 W. D. Davies and Dale Allison, Jr. Modifying W. D. Davies’ earlier work, Davies and Allison see a Matthean response to an emerging rabbinic movement.57 Matthew, engaged with a Pharisaism which sought to re-establish the unity of the Jewish people in terms of the written and oral Torah, himself sought a unity – the unity of Christians. He found such unity implicit in the story and teachings of Jesus.58

The theological location is found in this quest for unity. The Matthean Christians were mostly Jews. Among them the divisiveness so characteristic of the Jewish society to which they belonged was no doubt perpetuated. So Matthew, like the Pharisees, was faced with the need to keep a community united. But unlike the Pharisees Matthew also had to come to terms with the increasing number of Gentiles entering the Jesus movement.59

The social location can be inferred from this. Matthew’ s community … seems to have demanded, on the one hand, its own inclusion within Judaism … and, on the other, the expansion of Judaism beyond strictly Jewish confines. … we incline to believe that despite its positive association with Gentile Christians, Matthew’s community was still a deviant Jewish association.60

The outcome can also be envisioned: … the tragedy is that the sort of Christianity, so richly Jewish, that we find in Matthew, and which apparently lived on in the Nazoraeans, did not flourish much past Matthew’s time. In the century after Matthew Christianity became a primarily Gentile religion, and Jewish Christians became marginalized. … In one sense, then, our Gospel, as we interpret it, is a monument to a failed hope: its ecumenical goal, the unity of Jewish and Gentile Christians, was not achieved.61 56  I wish to express my deep respect for the position and scholarship of each of my colleagues. It was my participation in this conversation that pushed me beyond my own focus on Matthew the author and my own presumption of a unified line of redaction. 57  Davies and Allison, Matthew. 58 Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 3, p. 704. 59  Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 3, p. 702. 60  Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 3, p. 695. 61 Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 3, p. 727.

18

Chapter One: The History of Matthew

7.2.2 Graham Stanton In his 1992 treatment,62 Graham Stanton believed that at the time Matthew wrote, church and synagogue have parted company.63 For Stanton, the theological location is shaped by this history. Matthew wrote his gospel as a ‘foundation document’ for a cluster of Christian communities, probably in Syria in the mid 80s. The evangelist and the original recipients of his gospel saw themselves as a ‘new people’, minority Christian communities over against both Judaism and the Gentile world at large. … Matthew’s gospel legitimates the recent painful separation of Matthean communities from Judaism by providing divine sanction for the parting of the ways: as a result of the hostility of the Jewish leaders to Jesus and his followers, God himself has disclosed to the ‘new people’ that Jesus is the Son of God.64

Despite its social location as a separated community, the orientation process is still underway. One of Matthew’s ‘legitimating answers’ is particularly prominent. He includes as a part of his story a sustained defence of open and full acceptance of Gentiles. This is carried out with such literary skill that it is highly likely that this was a matter of continuing importance for the ‘new people’. Even if the principle was largely accepted when Matthew wrote, it was still necessary to repeat the explanation of how this step had been taken, a step which ultimately proved to be crucial for the parting of the ways with Judaism.65

7.2.3 Ulrich Luz For Ulrich Luz the Gospel of Matthew has its central focus in Jesus.66 From the beginning, the earthly Jesus is Immanuel – the one in whom God meets humans. Throughout the story, Jesus is the messiah of Israel, and with his resurrection the messiah of Israel is revealed to be the Lord of the entire world. The Gospel of Matthew presents an “inclusive story” that encourages its readers to “interweave their own experiences with the story being told by the evangelist.”67 Ultimately, for Luz, this is a story of separation: The evangelist tells his story of Jesus as the story of an increasing and dramatic conflict with Israel’s leaders. … As is the case with every story of conflict, the Matthean story of Jesus is also to be understood by its ending. … The conflict was unavoidable, because for Matthew and his church the authority of the Son of Man Jesus was so commanding and his story in Israel so sweeping that only the figure and message of Jesus could be the foundation of Israel. 62 Stanton,

A Gospel for a New People.  Stanton, A Gospel for a New People, pp. 7–8. 64  Stanton, A Gospel for a New People, p. 378. 65 Stanton, A Gospel for a New People, p. 379. 66  I am drawing here from the concluding “In Retrospect” of the three-volume commentary of Ulrich Luz: Matthew 21–28, (Minneapolis, Fortress Press, 2005), pp. 637–44. 67 Luz, Matthew 21–28, p. 640. 63

7.0 Contradictory Views of Matthew in Current Scholarship

19

For his opponents, the scribes and Pharisees who after the catastrophe of the Jewish War and the destruction of Jerusalem tried to reconstitute Israel’s identity on the basis of the Torah, naturally Jesus could not be the basis of this identity.68

Luz notes that In his interpretation of Jesus Matthew presumably remained faithful to Jesus’ own claim. Jesus claimed final authority for himself and his words  … and he probably regarded himself as the coming Son of Man-World Judge … he attributed to his own radical interpretation of the Law of Moses an almost absolute authority, and he understood his own activity in connection with the arrival of the kingdom of God. … As a result, the negative reaction of large parts of Israel almost of necessity had to evoke a severe reaction from the Jesus movement …. It was almost “preprogrammed” that the evangelist would experience as a catastrophe the no to Jesus of Israel’s great majority, which after the Jewish War had defined itself, and that he would react accordingly.69

Thus, the ecclesiology set forth in the Gospel of Matthew, for Ulrich Luz, is the natural extension of the Matthean account of Jesus as a new foundation story – as the story of a new base experience that replaces Israel’s prior foundation story, the biblical story of Israel’s exodus from Egypt and of God’s revelation on Sinai. … The God of Israel in the story of Jesus was and is with his people in new ways.70

7.2.4 Matthias Konradt Matthias Konradt presents his work as an alternative to the position of Luz. Konradt cites Luz as an illustration of the widely held position that Mt 28.19 is the “Antwort auf die kollektive (oder zumindest weitgehende) Ablehnung, die Jesus (am Ende) in Israel erfahren habe.” (response to the collective (or at least extensive) rejection that Jesus (in the end) experienced in Israel).71 Konradt finds in J. P. Meier an even more explicit expression of that position: “The death of Jesus, the result of Israel’s total rejection of its Messiah, frees the church for its mission to the nations.”72 Konradt investigates the relationship between the “Israel only” command of Mt 10.6; 15.24 and the “all nations” command of Mt 28.18b–20. Does the final command mark the end of the mission to Israel, the inclusion of Israel in the mission to the world, or the beginning of two distinct missions? The thesis of Matthias Konradt is that “the end of the Gospel of Matthew by no means implies  Luz, Matthew 21–28, p. 641. Matthew 21–28, p. 641. 70  Luz, Matthew 21–28, p. 638. 71  Matthias Konradt, Israel, Kirche, und die Völker im Matthäusevangelium (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007), p. 1. Konrad then cites Luz, Matthew 1–7, p. 92. The English translation of Konradt’s work appeared as Israel, Church and the Gentiles (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2014). 72  J. P. Meier, The Vision of Matthew. Meier’s view is cited and discussed in Konradt, Israel, Kirche, und die Völker, p. 1. 68

69 Luz,

20

Chapter One: The History of Matthew

a collective rejection of Jesus in Israel that overrides any previous differentiations”73 Konradt notes that this understanding of the theological framework of this gospel carries with it important implications for locating the Gospel of Matthew in the process of Jewish identity formation.74 Konradt insists that: Alongside the mission to the “lost sheep of the house of Israel,” in 28.16–20, the commission to make disciples of πάντα τὰ ἔθνη appears. The integration of Gentiles into the ministry of salvation after the Israel-oriented particularity of Jesus’ earthly ministry as the Messiah of Israel, however, does not indicate a “break” in the Matthean Jesus story; it is not a response to the alleged collective rejection of Jesus in Israel but rather emerges organically out of the ministry to Israel as the aim of the history of salvation begun in Abraham. In Matthew’s narrative concept, Jesus’ earthly ministry is located from the start within a universalistic dimension through signals in the prologue  – such as the identification of Jesus as a son of Abraham (1.1), the insertion of four women/persons of non-Jewish ancestry in Jesus’ genealogy (1.2–16), and the magi periscope (2.1–12) – as well as through the fulfillment quotations in 4.14–16 and 12.17–21. Further, the narratives of the healing of the centurion’s son in Capernaum in 8.5–13, the Gadarene demoniac in 8.28–34, and the Canaanite woman’s daughter in 15.21–28 symbolically anticipate the integration of Gentiles into the ministry of salvation, and at the same time, faith is presented as the decisive criterion (8.10,13; 15.28). In 8.10 and 15.28 – and only in these two passages – faith is praised as particularly great. The point of reference for this is likely that the centurion and the Canaanite woman trust that the ministry of salvation linked with Jesus will extend beyond Israel.75

Konradt concludes that Matthean universalism is thus Israel-oriented, just as Israel, conversely, is directed toward the Gentile world from the election of Abraham onward.76

The ἐκκλησία (church) does not replace Israel, says Konradt, but the ἐκκλησία represents a transformation in the “theologischen Koordinatensystems.”77 The significance and the role of Israel as the people of God is changed. With the death and resurrection of Jesus, the opposition between Israel and the nations has lost its primary significance. It is significant, says Konradt, that the salvation of the nations is no longer to be realized through their streaming to Zion, but rather through the entrance of individuals into the ἐκκλησία (church).78

73 Konradt,

Israel, Church, and the Gentiles, p. 14.  Konradt, Israel, Church, and the Gentiles, p. 15. 75  Konradt, Israel, Church, and the Gentiles, p. 374. 76 Konradt, Israel, Church, and the Gentiles, p. 375. 77  Konradt, Israel, Kirche, und die Völker, p. 403 (Israel, Church, and the Gentiles, p. 379: “the transformation of the theological system of coordinates”). 78 Konradt, Israel, Church, and the Gentiles, p. 379. 74

7.0 Contradictory Views of Matthew in Current Scholarship

21

7.2.5 David Sim David Sim believes that the Gospel of Matthew sponsors a Christian form of Judaism. In Mt 5.17–19 Jesus expects his Jewish followers to obey the Torah until the parousia, an expectation that remains in effect for Jewish disciples after the resurrection. For Sim, the commission in Mt 28.16–20 refers to a single mission that applies to all the nations – that is, to both Jews and Gentiles. The Jewish disciples are here charged to teach the nations what Jesus has taught them. Consequently, says Sim, any Gentile mission would have required, in accordance with Mt 5.17–19, full and complete observance of the Law.79 7.2.6 Paul Foster Paul Foster’s dissertation was published in 2004 as Community, Law and Mission in Matthew’s Gospel.80 Foster argues that the Gospel of Matthew reaffirms Torah observance, but that it has redefined the role of the Law through the Antitheses. Jesus’ teaching now becomes the definitive hermeneutic for Torah interpretation and practice. In a similar way, the mission of the community has been transformed: they are to take the gospel to the nations, though this does not exclude further mission to Jews. The Gospel of Matthew is written to encourage those who find this transition difficult. For Foster, the break with the synagogue is in the recent past. In a recent presentation, Paul Foster examined how the Gospel of Matthew incorporates specific elements of the Sayings Tradition (Q). Foster did so with an eye to the question of how this might reflect the theological setting of this gospel. After examining specific passages, Foster concludes that Matthew’s gospel is not simply a neutral repackaging of the traditions contained in Q, which were highly valued by the group. Instead the evangelist re-uses those sayings in combination with material drawn from Mark’s gospel and other sources to promote an inclusive community which is open to Gentile believers as well as long term Jewish Christians.81

Foster concludes that the subsequent use and acceptance of Matthew’s Gospel across various strands of the emerging Christian movement serves as testament to its ultimate success as a statement of the gospel of Jesus, and its clear articulation of a call to discipleship for all the nations.82 79  I am drawing here upon David Sim’s summary of his position in a paper presented to the SNTS Matthew Seminar in 2012 entitled “Matthew’s Theological Location.” Sim has modified his earlier view that the Matthean community resisted participating in the mission to the Gentiles. 80  Paul Foster, Community, Law and Mission in Matthew’s Gospel (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004). 81  Paul Foster, SNTS seminar paper entitled “Q, Jewish Christianity, and Matthew’s Gospel,” p. 25. 82 Foster, “Q, Jewish Christianity, and Matthew’s Gospel,” p. 29.

22

Chapter One: The History of Matthew

7.2.7 Wolfgang Kraus Wolfgang Kraus notes that most mainline Christian denominations have moved beyond a replacement theology, but they have done so largely on the basis of Pauline theology. Kraus makes the case for an inclusive theology based on the ecclesiology of the Gospel of Matthew.83 Kraus locates the Matthean community fully within the orbit of Judaism: Die mt Gemeinde ist ihrem Selbstverständnis nach eine jüdische Gemeinde, die in Jesus den von Gott verheissenen Messias erkannt hat. Sein Wirken, sein Tod unde seine Auferstehung haben universal Bedeutung. In Aufnahme der Abrahamsverheissung steht sie an der Schwelle dazu, alle Völker zu Jüngern machen zu sollen.84

Kraus considers the relationship between the Matthean images of the Kingdom and the place of the ἐκκλησία. He concludes that the world wide mission is not focused on the church or limited to the church, but includes all – Jews and Gentiles – who do God’s will. Klaus argues that the specific Jewish elements of Mt 23 (the seat of Moses, tithing on herbs) suggest the community is located within the borders of the Holy Land. 7.2.8 William Loader William Loader concludes that Matthew “must be operating in what was a primarily a Jewish religious environment.”85 The structural pattern of Matthew’s theology fits within Judaism as we know it, with the exception of its focus on Jesus. Jesus’ exposition of Torah focuses on the ethical rather than the ritual and cultic. Matthew’s narrative gives early focus to Gentile participation, and, says Loader, this “only makes sense if the Gentile mission has been underway for some time.” Matthew undoes the Markan affirmation of Jesus’ ministry to Gentiles during his life. This was a Markan innovation, and Matthew historicizes Mark’s symbolic narrative in order to “bring it in to line with the way everyone else, it seems, believed things happened.” The limitation of the mission to Israel probably reflects a stage that is now “behind Matthew,” since the mission to the Gentiles has been underway for some time. 83  Wolfgang Kraus, “Zur Ekklesiologie des Matthäusevangeliums,” in Matthew at the Crossroads of Early Christianity, ed. Donald Senior, (Leuven: Peeters, 2009), p. 234. See also the summary by Donald Senior on pp. XX–XXII. 84  Kraus, “Zur Ekklesiologie des Matthäusevangeliums,” p. 234. (“The Matthean community, in their self-understanding, is a Jewish community that recognizes in Jesus the Messiah promised by God. His works, his death, and his resurrection have universal significance. In taking up to the promise to Abraham, they stand at the threshold of the movement to make disciples of all the nations.”). 85  Bill Loader, “What Light does Matthew’s Use of Mark in Matthew 1–4 Throw on Matthew’s Theological Location?”, presented before the Societas Novi Testamenti Studiorum in Leuven, Belgium, August, 2012.

7.0 Contradictory Views of Matthew in Current Scholarship

23

Loader concludes that Matthew’s reworking of Mark’s liberation model to redefine Jesus’ role to be not only Messiah but universal judge effectively transforms soteriology into a form of Judaism according to which acceptance of a place in God’s people is to be matched by doing God’s will as set out in Torah and expounded by Jesus …. Matthew’s gospel (re‑)incorporates Mark’s Jesus into Judaism and the pattern of covenantal nomism. It does so however in a manner that prioritises those values in Torah that are universal, rather than the cultic and ceremonial, making its form of Judaism attractive to its Gentile members and potential members …86

Loader then suggests that it was Matthean christology that led to an increasing distance from the synagogue. The characterization of Jesus as Son of God, Son of Man, and universal judge are probably intolerable to the synagogue, and to this is added the assumption that “beside Torah is another authority equal to it in the person of Jesus, even though upholding it.”87 Loader believes the argument shifted – in the latter decades of the 1st century – from the Torah to the person of Jesus. While Matthew and his community might continue to claim a place within Judaism, Over time such conflict would become intolerable. Matthew appears not to have disowned the wider Jewish community, but in vain to have claimed to own it or own leadership of it, to be the new legitimate tenants in its vineyard. For its part, that community would find the escalating claims made about Jesus increasingly intolerable to the point where they could no longer own Matthew’s movement as being in the same category as others within the fold.88

7.2.9 Amy-Jill Levine In her treatment of the synagogue and its leaders in the Gospel of Matthew, Amy-Jill Levine offers some perspective on theological and social location.89 Noting the difficulty of moving from narrative to history, Levine suggests that the Matthean congregations had Gentile members. She also favors the argument that the Gospel of Matthew offers an alternative to Paul’s Gentile mission: For Matthew, the Gentile mission is founded on Petrine, rather than Pauline, principles. The narrative suggests that those Gentiles who entered the Matthean community would have done so under the rubric of Torah observance as understood by the Matthean community, not by Paul and not by any synagogue.90

 Loader, “What Light?”, p. 21.  Loader, “What Light?”, p. 21. 88 Loader, “What Light?”, p. 22. 89  Amy-Jill Levine, “Matthew’s Portrayal of the Synagogue and Its Leaders,” in Matthew at the Crossroads of Early Christianity, ed. Donald Senior (Leuven: Peeters, 2009), pp. 177–93. 90 Amy-Jill Levine, “Matthew’s Portrayal of the Synagogue and Its Leaders,” pp. 189–90. 86 87

24

Chapter One: The History of Matthew

8.0 Conclusion From Papias forward, interpreters have sought to understand Matthew and his purposes. Matthew was consistently understood as an apostle who faithfully transmitted the teaching of Jesus. Differences between the gospels, and especially between the Sermon on Mount and the Sermon on the Plain, led some to see the hand of Matthew shaping the presentation, but most believed what was transmitted was the teaching of Jesus. Only in the wake of the Enlightenment was serious consideration given to the possibility that the Gospel of Matthew draws from sources that have already edited and interpreted the teachings of Jesus. Matthew then became a collector of traditions who organized them into a coherent account about Jesus. With renewed focus on the framing of these traditions, Matthew as author and theologian came into the view of redaction critics. When renewed attention was given to the history of Judaism, Matthew became more than a reflective theologian; he was a theologian of crisis who shaped the message to address the needs of his community in its struggle with some forms of Judaism. More recent scholarship has combined these tools with a conscious focus on the narrative and its dynamics. In these last days, the Gospel of Matthew has been treated as a unified and coherent narrative, and Matthew has become a literary genius. Despite this intense focus on Matthew and his purposes with the story of Jesus, the history of scholarship is deeply divided over who Matthew was, but even more so about his purpose, his community, and their relationship to Judaism. This divide has grown not less but greater in recent scholarship. What is noteworthy is how each side makes coherent arguments based on the text of the Gospel of Matthew. Even more noteworthy, perhaps, is when a scholar has second thoughts or even a change of mind as the text is read again and again.91 This contradiction among critical scholars who are reading carefully the text of the Gospel of Matthew is not without cause. If this text were read without the presumption that Matthew is in control, would it confirm the presence of a literary genius with extraordinary theological skill? Would Matthew the author remain an essential part of reading and interpreting this text? Could a reading focused on the internal workings of the narrative shed light on its contradictions? Could such a reading also say something about the world outside of the text? The following chapter will pursue this course by defining a strategy for reading the Gospel of Matthew from a formalistic perspective that is set within a traditionsgeschichtliche (history of traditions) context. That model will then be used consider to what degree the Gospel of Matthew is a coherent literary and theological construction that reflects the design of its author. 91  So, to his credit, Ulrich Luz on the question of whether Matthew’s community has separated from the synagogue. My own position has shifted through this process.

Chapter Two

Disjunction, Conflict, and Contradiction: The Narrative World of the Gospel of Matthew A formalistic analysis of the Gospel of Matthew will highlight its components, its structure, and its strategies. This analysis can be framed as a type of narrative grammar that describes both the morphology (what it contains) and the syntax (how it works). While such analysis is based on the internal world of the narrative, it is clear there are connections to the wider history of the text. Even as sentence grammar has a wider connection to the world of language and speech and communication, so the formal workings of a narrative are connected to its history of composition, preservation, and transmission. While one could attempt a comprehensive description of the narrative world of the Gospel of Matthew,1 the focus here is on the basic literary design and defining characteristics of this gospel presentation. From the perspective of formalistic analysis, the narrative world of the Gospel of Matthew is rather chaotic and disjointed. Once this is observed and charted, following chapters will consider the significance of this narrative identity for questions about the composition and function of this gospel. Seen through the lens of formalistic analysis, the Gospel of Matthew is characterized by disjuncture, conflict, and contradiction. This is true of the structural framework of the Gospel, of its conceptual framework, and even of its linguistic profile.

1 I have pursued this for the Gospel of Mark in a series of works: Teaching with Authority: Miracles and Christology in the Gospel of Mark (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1992); Prophet, Son, Messiah: Narrative Form and Function in Mark 14–16 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994); Naming Jesus: Titular Christology in the Gospel of Mark (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999); The Gospel of Mark in The Readings Commentary Series (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001; second edition, 2009). A survey of the approach can be seen in Edwin Broadhead, “Formalist Interpretation (New Criticism)” in The Oxford Encyclopedia of Biblical Interpretation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), http://www. oxfordbiblicalstudies.com/article/opr/t373/e18.

26

Chapter Two: Disjunction, Conflict, and Contradiction

1.0 Disjunction, Conflict and Contradiction: The Structural Framework of the Story The structural framework of the Gospel of Matthew displays unity and creativity, but also disjuncture and contradiction. This can be seen in the way the story is framed around alternation of constructed discourse units and extended narrative stretches. In both instances, most of the material has been reappropriated from previously existing traditions and texts. In addition, a prologue and conclusion have been constructed to frame the story. 1.1 The Framing of the Story: Discourse Units At the heart of the Gospel of Matthew are five discourse collections (Mt 5–7; 10; 13.1–53; 18; 23–25). Common to each of these are the essential qualities that: 1) they are presented as sayings from Jesus, and 2) they have been collected from various times and places rather than simply reported. This means that these discourses, as they appear within the Gospel of Matthew, are narrative constructs. This is true of their content and their function, but also of their framing.2 Each of the discourses centers around a type of teaching material: the Sermon on the Mount (Mt 5–7), which interprets the call to the Kingdom of Heaven (Mt 4.17); instruction on discipleship (Mt 10); a collection of parables (Mt 13.1– 53); instruction on life in the community (Mt 18); a discourse on the Pharisees and teaching about the end time (Mt 23–25).3 Thus, these are collected clusters that center on a type of material or on a general theme. These clusters may also be identified because they are intrusions into the plot line of the Gospel of Mark, which provides the framework throughout the Gospel of Matthew. These units also serve a distinct function. In the midst of the narrative of what Jesus did, taken largely from the Gospel of Mark, these discourse units interrupt the action and interject the voice of Jesus. They also function to provide content for the teaching of Jesus, which is largely absent from the Gospel of Mark. In this way, the voice of Jesus is heard in the midst of his journey among the places and events of his ministry. Moreover, the Gospel of Matthew claims that the teaching of Jesus the messiah fulfills the Law of Israel and provides the basis for

2  The constructed nature of this material is true regardless of when and by whom it was constructed. Certainly the Sermon on the Mount in Mt 5–7 and the eschatological discourse in Mt 24–25 are previously constructed. 3  Most commentaries point to an eschatological discourse in Mt 24–25 that is framed by an introduction in 24.3 and a concluding formula in 26.1. I find convincing the argument of Ulrich Luz that Mt 23–25 can just as easily be seen as a discourse unit with two central themes: engagement with the Pharisees and instruction on the end times. This material is treated by Luz in Matthew 21–28, pp. 92–296. It is precisely the material in Mt 23–25 that intrudes into the narrative sequence appropriated from the Gospel of Mark.

1.0 Disjunction, Conflict and Contradiction

27

the instruction to the nations. These discourse units illustrate and give content to that teaching. These units also stand out because of the way in which they have been framed. While the general outline of the Gospel of Mark is followed throughout the Gospel of Matthew, these units represent intrusions into that plot line. Moreover, each of the units is framed by a distinct beginning and ending. Each opens with a note that Jesus began to speak to his audience (Mt 5.1–2; 10.1; 13.1–3; 18.1–3a; 23.1). The ending of each is even more formulaic: “Now when Jesus had finished sayings these things” (Mt 7.28) “Now when Jesus had finished instructing his twelve disciples (Mt 11.1) “When Jesus had finished these parables, he left that place” (Mt 13.53 “When Jesus had finished saying these things, he left Galilee …” (Mt 19.1) “When Jesus had finished saying all these things, he said to his disciples …” (Mt 26.1) Whether the construction of these speeches first occurs in the Gospel of Matthew or is developed earlier, these units represent a strategic literary process of collection and are important in terms of their content, function and framing. 1.2 The Framing of the Story: Narrative Sequences These discourse units stand in contrast to the larger flow of the story, and they interrupt the plotted action of the narrative. Whether this is a good narrative technique is open to debate.4 For good or bad, the discourse blocks provide a different type of framing for a portion of the story of Jesus. The larger part of that story is framed through a plotted narrative sequence, and this is borrowed from the Gospel of Mark. Thus, the high level of creativity presented in the discourse units stands in contrast to the heavy dependence exhibited in the narrative materials. The framing of these narrative sequences is less orderly. From a macro perspective, the Gospel of Matthew has followed the Markan narrative from beginning to end. Major additions are to be found only at the beginning, in the five discourse units, and in the ending. This narrative dependence is true not only of the outline, but also of the content. At the end of the process, some 90 % of the Gospel of Mark has been incorporated, and this incorporated material constitutes about 60 % of the Gospel of Matthew. This appropriation of the larger Markan outline is far from unified, however, and a closer focus on narrative units reveals the diverse ways in which the Markan story is appropriated. It is noteworthy that the Gospel of Matthew builds upon the Gospel of Mark, and it is also noteworthy how it does so. There is, however, little agreement over 4  Most commentators see these units as a helpful change of pace, a change of focus. The most frequent interpretation is that these constructs serve a memnonic and a didactic purpose – they are framed for teaching and remembering.

28

Chapter Two: Disjunction, Conflict, and Contradiction

the structure. Most commentators discuss various ways the Gospel of Matthew could be outlined, then proceed to offer their best effort. Donald Senior notes various options based around geography, chronology, topical frames, and a few overarching conceptual frameworks (such as salvation history).5 Concerning the structure of this gospel, Ulrich Luz says that “Research into this question presents a quite chaotic picture. There is no end to new proposals concerning the structure of the Gospel of Matthew.”6 Luz argues that the key decision is the choice to use the Gospel of Mark, with its narrative framework of the life of Jesus, as the basis for the “ethical proclamation of Jesus concerning the kingdom of God …”7 Since the outline and content of the Gospel of Matthew are largely borrowed from the Gospel of Mark, attention to when and how this appropriation happens provides a key element in unveiling the framing of the narrative sequences of this gospel. Although the Gospel of Matthew employs the general outline from the Gospel of Mark, it does so inconsistently. As most commentators note, Mt 12–28 is essentially a revised edition of Mk 2.12–4.34; 6.1–16.8. Into this sequence are inserted three of the constructed discourses (Mt 13.1–53; 18; 23–25). In contrast, Mt 4.23–11.30 is a more dramatic expansion and reworking of Mk 1.2–2.22. For example, two main blocks of material – the discourse on John the Baptist and the sending of the disciples – have been reversed, thus destroying a major narrative and theological construct from the Gospel of Mark.8 In addition, material from later in the Markan story (Mk 4.35–5.43) is inserted into the Gospel of Matthew at this point (Mt 8.23–27). Ulrich Luz sees here a design in which the Sermon in Mt 5–7 and the miracle collection in chapters 8–9 are enclosed in a “ring-shaped composition”9 by the use of formulaic summaries: Mt 4.23 “And he went around in the whole of the Galilee teaching in their synagogues and preaching the gospel of the kingdom and healing all diseases and all maladies among the people.” Mt 9.35 “And Jesus went around all the cities and villages teaching in their synagogues and preaching the gospel of the kingdom and healing all diseases and all maladies.”

For Luz, this ring-shaped composition unites the presentation of Jesus’ words (Mt 5–7) and his deeds (Mt 8–9). The sending of the disciples in Mt 10 then

5 Donald Senior, What are They Saying About Matthew, pp. 25–37. Senior notes the varieties and the difficulties, then offers his own proposal on pp. 36–37 6  Luz, Matthew 1–7, p. 35. 7 Luz, Matthew 1–7, p. 44. 8  The intercalation of the sending of the disciples and the death of John the Baptist are discussed in Broadhead, Teaching with Authority. 9 Luz, Matthew 1–7, p. 42

1.0 Disjunction, Conflict and Contradiction

29

serves as the “ecclesiological continuation of the ministry of Jesus.”10 Luz finds Mt 11 more difficult: “the evangelist adds here material from Q which he has left aside so far.”11 The opening of chapter 11, says Luz, points to the miracles in chapters 8–9, while the latter part of this chapter points to the conclusion in Mt 28.16–20.12 Thus two very different strategies emerge for appropriating the Gospel of Mark. Mt 12–28 is a revised edition of a large narrative stretch of the Gospel of Mark (Mk 2.12–4.34; 6.1–16.8). Mt 1–11 is less faithful to the Markan narrative, but it also differs in focus and function. Mt 12–28 imitates the Markan theme of Jesus’ journey to his death in Jerusalem. He is accompanied in this journey by his disciples, and he teaches them in preparation for his death. In this stretch, the teaching of Jesus serves the plot line: he instructs on suffering, faithfulness, and discipleship. Mt 4.23–11.30 serves a conceptual focus rather than a destination – it defines the call to the Kingdom and the demands upon those who would follow Jesus. The call to the Kingdom articulated in Mt 4.17 is interpreted through the Sermon (Mt 5–7) and through the miracles stories (Mt 8–9). The demands of discipleship are explicitly addressed through two commissioning scenes (Mt 10.1–4; 5–14) taken from two different places in the Gospel of Mark (Mk 3.13–19 and Mk 6.7–13). To this is added a significant portion of the eschatological discourse (Mt 10.16–23) taken from Mk 13. A unique saying (thus labeled as M) is found in Mt 10.24, and extensive material is appropriated from the Sayings Tradition (Q) in Mt 10.26–38. To this is added a scriptural citation (Mt 10.35–36) taken from the Sayings Tradition, which took it from Micah 7.6.13 This may be why the Gospel of Matthew has two forms of the Bartimaus story found in Mk 10.46–52. Mt 9.27–31 appears to be a rather awkward appropriation of the Bartimaus story, but here two men are healed. While following the Markan sequence in later chapters, the Bartimaus story is again appropriated in Mt 20.29–34. Here again, two blind men are healed. Thus, two different approaches to the Gospel of Mark are evident. In contrast to the extensive and consistence reliance upon the Gospel of Mark for the narration of Jesus’ journey to the cross, Mt 4.23–11.30 Has a conceptual focus (the Kingdom and discipleship) rather than a narrative destiny Has its structural focus in two constructed units (Mt 5–7; 8–9)  Luz, Matthew 1–7, p. 42. Matthew 1–7, p. 42. 12  Luz, Matthew 1–7, p. 42. Luz here defends the creativity of Matthew: “ … the beginning chapters 1–11 communicate to the reader the most important points of view from which the evangelist might have read the Gospel of Mark. Later on, i. e., in the light of chs. 1–11, the reader can understand the retold Gospel of Mark correctly. … without the introductory chapters 1–11 the second half hardly could be read ‘in a Matthean manner.’” (p. 43) 13 But cited differently than the Sayings Tradition material appropriated in Lk 12.53. 10

11 Luz,

30

Chapter Two: Disjunction, Conflict, and Contradiction

Dismembers, at points, the narrative flow and narrative logic of the Gospel of Mark Intermingles material drawn from the Gospel of Mark, from one form of the Sayings Tradition (Q), and from special materials (M) Creates repetition by re-ordering material.

This chaotic appropriation of the Gospel of Mark in Mt 4.23–11.30 makes it difficult to return to the Gospel of Mark. The eschatological discourse of Mk 13 is appropriated in Mt 24.1–44, but Mk 13.9–13 was already used in Mt 10.17–22), so it is omitted from the discourse in Mt 24. The repetition of the Bartimaus story in Mt 20.29–34 appears disjointed. Even the transition between the two larger units is awkward. Mt 12 begins with “at that time,” but its point of reference is not clear. It is, perhaps, a repetition of the same phrase from Mt 11.25. 1.3 The Framing of the Story: Prologue and Conclusion To these large narrative units two smaller units are attached. Mt 1.1–4.22 is the prologue to the story, and its elements are unique to the Gospel of Matthew. Mt 28.11–28, also unique to the Gospel of Matthew, completes the broken ending of the Gospel of Mark (16.1–8). Both the conclusion and the prologue center on the universal nature of the story, and this stands in contrast with the larger narrative. In the prologue, the genealogy locates Jesus among the heroes of Israel, but also within the lineage of Rahab the Canaanite (Mt 1.5) and Ruth the Maobite (Mt 1.5). Magi come from the East and bow before the newborn Jesus (Mt 2.1–12). Israel’s scriptures are used to speak of light dawning upon the Gentiles (Mt 4.12–16). These various moves invoke the image of the nations streaming to Israel to learn of God (Isa 60.3, among others). In contrast, the conclusion sees the disciples of Jesus – all from Israel – going to the nations (Mt 28.16–20). The design of this strategy is clear, but so is the contrast between these two constructed units and the central narrative. In the body of this gospel, Jesus calls Jewish disciples who are sent, like Jesus himself, to Israel only (Mt 10.5; 15.25). Indeed, the Gospel of Matthew has taken a step back from the Gospel of Mark by inserting the Israel only sayings and by narrating  – over and beyond the Gospel of Mark – disregard and disrespect for Gentiles (5.47; 6.7; 6.32; 15.26; 18.17).14 The careful construction of the prologue and conclusion and the strategic insertion of scripture frame the story of the Gospel of Matthew, but they frame it with contrast and contradiction.

14  Consider the very different rhetorical effect if the prologue and conclusion of the Gospel of Matthew simply framed the text of the Gospel of Mark.

2.0 Disjunction, Conflict and Contradiction: The Conceptual World of the Story

31

1.4 Summation While the Gospel of Matthew is built primarily upon the narrative plot of the Gospel of Mark, this material is appropriated in starkly different ways. Mt 12–28 is a revised edition of Mk 2.12–4.34; 6.1–16.8 with constructed discourses inserted (in Mt 13.1–53; Mt 18; and Mt 23–25). In contrast, Mt 4.23–11.30 is a more chaotic expansion and reworking of Mk 1.2–2.22 and other materials. Appended to these major units are the prologue of Mt 1.1–4.22 and the conclusion of Mt 28.11–28, casting a universal focus over against the distinctly Jewish narrative of the life of Jesus. The creative insertion of the discourse material stands in contrast to the persistent appropriation of the Gospel of Mark in Mt 12–28, which itself stands in contrast to the chaotic revisionism of Mt 4.23–11.30. The coming to Israel and the going to the nations of the prologue and epilogue contrast the central focus on “Israel only.” From its beginning to its end the structural framework of the Gospel of Matthew displays unity and creativity, but also disjuncture and contradiction.

2.0 Disjunction, Conflict and Contradiction: The Conceptual World of the Story The conflict and contradiction within the Gospel of Matthew is not only structural; it also pervades the conceptual world of this story. This can be seen in the characterization of discipleship and in the presentation of the teaching of Jesus. 2.1 Conceptualizing Discipleship The larger conceptual world of this gospel is marked by a stark reversal that centers around the role of Jesus’ disciples. This can be seen in both the commission of the disciples and in the composition of this character group. 2.1.1 Discipleship: The Commission The central work of the Gospel of Matthew is completed in the commissioning scene narrated in its final verses (Mt 28.16–20). Among the concerns that culminate here are theology, christology, ecclesiology, missiology, and eschatology. From a narrative perspective, the commissioning scene provides the goal toward which the entire gospel has reached, and it also provides the starting point for the life of the community projected beyond this story. However, the climactic commission to go, under the authority of the risen Jesus, to all the nations stands in conflict with Jesus’ earlier command to “Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the Samaritans, but go rather

32

Chapter Two: Disjunction, Conflict, and Contradiction

to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Mt 10.5). This exclusive mission of Jesus and his followers receives further confirmation in his insistence to his disciples that “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Mt 15.25). It is clear how the Gospel of Matthew seeks to ameliorate this contradiction: the earthly Jesus sends his followers to Israel only, while the risen Jesus sends them to all nations. The narrative logic suggests that the resurrection has changed the situation, although it is less clear what makes this so.15 In the narrative world of the Gospel of Matthew, the resurrection reverses the focus of the historical ministry of Jesus. Redactional critics and literary studies have both labeled this reversal as the design of the evangelist, who is said to have in mind the work of the church among the Gentiles. Redactional studies and narrative criticism have noted that the command of Jesus is reversed and how this takes place, but they have failed to deal adequately with the question of why. The dramatic reversal of Jesus’ mission appears, from a literary perspective, both awkward and unnecessary. The scene in Mt 15.21–28 has been taken over from the Gospel of Mark. The Gospel of Mark tells the story of the Syrophoenician woman (Mk 7.24–30), but without the “Israel only” saying. In Mk 7 the conflict over Jesus’ ministry is wrapped in the obscure proverb of dogs and children, yet in the end Jesus responds to the woman and heals her daughter. For the Gospel of Mark, this is an example of how even Gentiles respond to the ministry of Jesus and even Gentiles can be touched by his work. The Gospel of Matthew borrows the story and its proverb, adding emphasis on the faith of the woman (Mt 15.28). As in the Gospel of Mark, the healing is eventually accomplished. Running directly counter to this trajectory, however, is the insistence of Jesus that he was not sent to such people (Mt 15.24) This objection has been added to the account and is thus a contribution from the special Matthean material (M) or from a redactor. Moreover, the woman has become “a Canaanite” (Mt 15.22). A similar contradiction is seen in the commission to the disciples. Each of the synoptic gospels contains the sending of the Twelve as a part of Jesus’ earthly mission, and the passage also seems to have been a part of the Sayings Tradition (Q 10.2–16, found at Lk 10.2–16). Only in the Gospel of Matthew, however (again, an M tradition or redaction) is the sending of the Twelve accompanied by the command to “Go nowhere among the Gentiles and enter no town of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Mt 10.5–6). 15  Acts 1.8 locates the commission to the nations in a new context: the Holy Spirit has come upon believers. The Gospel of Mark insists that the resurrection of Jesus provides a new context in which the messianic secret can be broken, then proceeds to break the secrecy in Jesus’ own lifetime. R. Alan Culpepper, in “Designs for the Church,” NTS 51/3, July 2005, pp. 383–84, seems to find confirmation of the Gentile mission in distinct elements of the passion story in the Gospel of Matthew: “Matthew emphasizes the significance of Jesus’ death as the turning point in history, the end of the era of the temple, the confirmation of the Christian community’s hope for the resurrection of the dead, and its mandate to preach the gospel to the Gentiles”.

2.0 Disjunction, Conflict and Contradiction: The Conceptual World of the Story

33

While the resurrection of Jesus marks a new era throughout the synoptic tradition and Acts, only in the Gospel of Matthew is there such explicit contradiction and reversal. In the light of these comparisons the stark reversal of Jesus’ mission in the Gospel of Matthew becomes awkward and unnecessary. If the narrative is under the control of the evangelist or the author, this central contradiction might best be explained as ineptitude – a conclusion rarely considered by redactional and literary critics. It is difficult to argue that the Gospel of Matthew does not have the artistic license to selectively prune source material. While the Gospel of Matthew incorporates some 90 % of the Gospel of Mark, some portions of the omitted 10 % are noteworthy. The Gospel of Mark has three sayings in 9.49–50: all shall be salted with fire (9.49) if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? (9.50a) have salt in yourselves and be at peace with one another (9.50b)

For the Gospel of Mark, the theme of salt seems to provide the point of collection for these sayings, but the first and last sayings are enigmatic. While Saying 82 of the Gospel of Thomas16 may parallel Mk 9.49, the Gospel of Matthew omits Mk 9.49 and 9.50b. It does, however, include a form of the saying in Mk 9.50a. The Gospel of Matthew thus selects out this enigmatic construction found in the Gospel of Mark. A second example is found in Mk 3.19b–21, which tells the embarrassing story of how the family of Jesus, thinking that he is beside himself, comes to intervene and to take him away. The Gospel of Matthew omits this embarrassing scene, as does the Gospel of Luke. If such omissions are possible, why does the Gospel of Matthew alter its source to create the major contradiction over the scope of Jesus’ ministry and the conflict between Jesus’ two commissions to his followers? Why does the Gospel of Matthew contradict its own conclusion (Mt 28.16–20), which is a call to the Gentiles? Moreover, why does it do so in the voice of Jesus? Indeed, the Gospel of Matthew appears to lay the groundwork for the Gentile mission from the very beginning. Magi from the East follow the signs in the heavens and bring gifts to the newborn Jesus. Isaiah 8 is invoked in Mt 4.15–16 to declare that the light has risen upon “Galilee of the Gentiles”. The report about Jesus’ activity goes out into Syria, the Decapolis, and regions of the Transjordan (Mt 4.24–25). The faith of the centurion in Mt 8.5–13 amazes Jesus and leads to the stark observations that “Amen, Amen, I say to you I have never found such faith in Israel.”(Mt 5.10). Jesus then offers the prophecy that “many from the East and West will gather and recline with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the 16  In Thomas 82, Jesus says “The one who is near me is near the fire; the one who is far from me is far from the kingdom.”

34

Chapter Two: Disjunction, Conflict, and Contradiction

kingdom of heaven” (Mt 5.11). The Gospel of Matthew takes over the dramatic story of the Gadarene demoniac from Mk 5.1–20, but doubles the miracle by telling of two who are healed in the Decapolis (Mt 8.28–34). These various scenes prepare the way for a Gentile mission. The Gospel of Matthew is distinct for its citation of scripture to show the fulfillment of prophecy in Jesus. God’s mercy for the Gentiles is emphasized in various of these citations. Mt 4.14–16 cites Isa 9.1–2 light has risen upon the Galilee of the Gentiles Mt 12.17–21 cites Isa 42.1–4 Jesus’ healings evoke the Servant of Yahweh who will “bring justice to the Gentiles” and “in his name the Gentiles shall hope.”

From a literary perspective, the Gospel of Matthew has inserted stories about the birth of Jesus, it has employed scripture citation, and it has shaped the narrative of Jesus’ ministry in order to lay the groundwork for its climactic focus on the mission to the Gentiles. The Gospel of Matthew also demonstrates the capacity and willingness to eliminate awkward or embarrassing scenes from the Gospel of Mark. Why, then, does the Gospel of Matthew seemingly create, in the midst of the story of Jesus, a major contradiction over the nature of Jesus’ ministry and over the role of the disciples? 2.1.2 Discipleship: The Composition The conflict between the two commissions of the disciples – both given in the words of Jesus  – disrupts the conceptual world of the Gospel of Matthew. A similar discontinuity can be seen in the shifting makeup of this group. The call of the disciples (Mt 4.18–25) takes it content from Mark 1.16–20. Few substantive changes are found,17 but the call operates within a different framework in the Gospel of Matthew. The genealogy (Mt 1.1–17) locates Jesus among the heroes of Israel and places him in the lineage of Abraham and King David. Jesus’ arrival is cast in the light of the scriptures of Israel (Mt 1.23; 2.6,15,18,23). In the birth story (Mt 1.18–2.23) the heavens bear witness to his arrival, and foreigners come to honor him. Four dreams (1.20; 2.12; 2.13; 2.19) provide heavenly guidance and safeguard the newborn. The geographical destination of Jesus is charted through scripture: Bethlehem (2.6), Egypt (2.15), and Nazareth (2.23). Images from the Exodus surround the story of Jesus’ birth (2.13–15; 2.16–18; 2.19–21). Thus, the narrative sweeps geographically from Babylon to North

17 Mt 4.19 notes that Simon is called Peter, the infinitive “to become” is omitted in Mt 4.19, the two pairs of brothers are emphasized in Mt 4.21, the workers in the boat are omitted in Mt 4.21, “immediately” is relocated in Mt 4.21 from the call to the answer, Zebedee’s name is replaced by a pronoun in Mt 4.22, and a different word for following is used in Mt 4.22.

2.0 Disjunction, Conflict and Contradiction: The Conceptual World of the Story

35

Africa and temporally from Abraham to the present in order to locate the birth of Jesus on the wider stage of Israel and its history among the nations. Only after this complex staging does the Gospel of Matthew employ the opening scenes from the Gospel of Mark. While few changes are made to the preaching of John the Baptist (Mk 1.1–8; Mt 3.1–12)18 and to the baptism of Jesus (Mk 1.9–11; Mt 3.13–17),19 the framework is altered again by the temptation scenes of Mt 4.1–16. A brief, stark report is given in Mk 1.12–13: Jesus is driven to the wilderness by the spirit, he is tested by Satan for forty days, he is with the wild beasts, the angels minister to him. This simple account is developed in Mt 4.1–16 as three scenes marked by dialogue with the devil and by journeys to Jerusalem and to a mountain from which they can see “all the kingdoms of the world” (4.8). At the heart of this encounter is Jesus’ appeal to the scriptures of Israel in order to overcome the three offers and to counter the argument from scripture by the devil.20 Even after this extensive framing, the Gospel of Matthew does not yet turn to the call of the disciples. Mk 1.14 notes that Jesus, after the imprisonment of John, came into the Galilee preaching the Gospel of God. Mt 4.12 uses the passage not to initiate the ministry of Jesus, but to locate him on the map of Israel and to embed him in the history of its tribes. Jesus leaves Nazareth to live in Capernaum, and this locale provides another opportunity to map the story of Jesus through the scriptures of Israel: Land of Zebulon and land of Nepthalim, The way of the sea, across the Jordan, Land of the Gentiles, The people sitting in darkness have seen a great light, And the ones sitting in the land and the shadow of death, Light has risen upon them (Mt 4.15–16, Isa 8.23–9.1).

For the Gospel of Matthew, it is the move to Capernaum that invokes the words of the prophet Isaiah and initiates the ministry of Jesus.21 This report is given by reshaping the announcement in the Gospel of Mark (Mt 4.18; Mk 1.14–15). The call of the disciples is the fourth scene narrated in the Gospel of Mark (Mk 1.16–20). There it is followed by the initial Sabbath in Capernaum, set in 3 healing scenes (Mk 1.21–28; 1.29–31; 1.32–34). This paradigmatic cluster sets the pattern for Jesus’ activity (preaching in the synagogues of the Galilee and casting 18  Mt 3.1 corrects the citation in Mk 1.3, where Isaiah is credited with the words of Malachi 3.1, then moves the Isaiah citation into a different position (Mt 3.3). The order of the two notices in Mk 1.2–6 is reversed. 19  Mt 3.14 adds a dialogue between John and Jesus, and the voice from heaven speaks about Jesus in Mt 3.17, rather than to Jesus as in Mk 1.11. 20 Γέγραπται is followed by proof from scripture in Mt 4.4,5,7,10) 21  While the Gospel of Mark opens the ministry with a programmatic Sabbath in Capernaum (Mk 1.21–39), this story is omitted in the Gospel of Matthew and Capernaum plays no real role until Mt 8.5.

36

Chapter Two: Disjunction, Conflict, and Contradiction

out demons), and it initiates the stream of stories that track his ministry through the Galilee and up to his final week in Jerusalem (Mk 1.40–9.50). More importantly, the scene at Capernaum in Mk 1.21–38 sets the tone of Jesus ministry: And all were amazed so that they began to ask among themselves, saying “What is this – a new teaching with authority? Even the unclean spirits he commands and they are obeying him.” And there went out the report of him immediately everywhere into the whole surrounding region of the Galilee (Mk 1.27–28).

In contrast, the Gospel of Matthew takes a long, complex journey through time and place to locate the story of Jesus within the history of Israel and to show in his coming the fulfillment of Israel’s scripture. At the end of this complex staging of the story of Jesus, the Gospel of Matthew takes over, with few changes, the call of the disciples from Mk 1.16–20. Mt 4.18–22 emphasizes that there are two sets of brothers, it notes that Simon is called Peter, and it employs more explicitly the vocabulary of discipleship.22 Beyond this, Mt 4.18–22 appropriates the Markan call scene. The Markan stream is quickly abandoned, however. While the initial Sabbath in Caperaum in Mk 1.21–38 is followed by a lengthy chain of scenes in which Jesus acts, the Gospel of Matthew halts the plot action to present its first extended scene of Jesus’ teaching (Mt 5–7). Following a general summary of the activity of Jesus (Mt 4.23–25), the Sermon on the Mount offers the content of Jesus’ instruction about the Kingdom. Jesus separates himself from the crowds (Mt 5.1), then he calls his disciples to himself and begins to teach. It is this discourse, and not the healing scenes, that evokes the amazement of the crowds at the authority of Jesus’ teaching (Mt 7.28–29; Mk 1.27–28). While the Gospel of Mark makes an unusual connection between Jesus’ exorcisms and his power as a teacher, the Gospel of Matthew reverts to the traditional image: in his words of wisdom, including his interpretation of Israel’s scripture, the authority of Jesus is revealed. Although the key teaching of the Kingdom contained in the Sermon on the Mount is directed only to the disciples in Mt 5.1 (presumably the four disciples called in Mt 4.18–22), at the end Jesus’ teachings are embraced by the crowds (Mt 7.28–29). This multivalent, conflicting view of discipleship is characteristic for the Gospel of Matthew.23 At the beginning of the ministry of the earthly Jesus, discipleship refers to four Jewish followers (Mt 4.18–22). In the midst of his ministry Jesus forms the Twelve – a group of Jewish disciples that incorporates the four (Mt 10.1–4). He empowers the Twelve to cast out demons, to heal, and to preach, but he sends them only to the house of Israel (10.5–7). Indeed, the Twelve may represent the twelve tribes of Israel. This symbol will be broken by the betrayal by Judas 22  In Mk 1.16–20 Jesus speaks to the fishers and they come after him. In Mt 4.18–22 Jesus calls them and they follow him. 23 Luke has an intermediary stage: the four disciples become 12, then the 12 become the 70.

2.0 Disjunction, Conflict and Contradiction: The Conceptual World of the Story

37

and by his subsequent death (Mt 26.47–56; 27.3–10). The final reformulation of discipleship at the end of the gospel does not exclude the twelve Jewish disciples who were sent to Israel only; the remaining eleven are now recommissioned and are sent to “make disciples of all nations” (Mt 28.19). This means the narrative develops the nature of discipleship in a disjunctive way,24 and the extension of discipleship to “all the nations” is awkward at best. This multivalent, conflicting view of discipleship is paradigmatic for the Gospel of Matthew. The final verses (Mt 28.16–20) hold forth the prospect of a mission in which “all the nations” become disciples of Jesus. To proffer this new reality requires a realignment of the image of discipleship created through the narrative development of the Gospel of Matthew. Both the composition and the commission of the disciples must be transformed from “Israel only” to “all nations”. This disjuncture and contradiction is most evident in the closing lines of the narrative (Mt 28.16–20). This passage stands, of course, at a crucial juncture: it seeks to draw together the themes and movements of the narrative and points the way to the future. At the same time, the final commission reveals in the clearest way the discord that pervades this story. The scene opens by invoking key images from the larger story of Jesus’ ministry: the Twelve, the Galilee, Jesus teaching on a mountain, the authority of Jesus (Mt 28.16–17). Already the picture is a fractured one: the Twelve have been reduced to the eleven, and some of them are doubting (28.17). The presentation of the new commission employs linguistics constructs and strategies that are almost without precedent.25 There is a narrative and linguistic logic to this construct: what has never happened before can only be expressed in distinct language and in novel ways. Nonetheless, the framing of the commission is rooted in the language and elements of the Gospel of Matthew. The commission is given to a small band of Jewish men whose ministry was limited to Israel only. The only baptism they know, in this story, is the baptism of John. Borrowed from the Gospel of Mark, the baptism scene in Mt 3.13–17 is a call to Jews to repent and to prepare for the imminent arrival of the Kingdom of Heaven. The new commission is also to 24  The complex stitching of stories into the plot line of the Gospel of Mark creates linguistic anomalies as well. For example, there is no explicit subject (“he returned into the Galilee”) in the opening scene of Jesus’ ministry in Mt 5.12–16. The report of Mt 4.17, which is constructed from Mk 1.14–15, does name Jesus, but he is not named again in the call of the disciples (Mt 4.18–22), nor in the summary of his ministry (Mt 4.23–25). Jesus is not named in the introduction to the Sermon (Mt 5.1) nor is he named in the whole of the Sermon itself (Mt 5.2–27). As a consequence, from the beginning of his ministry in Mt 4.12 until the end of the Sermon in 5.27, Jesus is called by name only once (Mt 4.17), and this is in a report borrowed from the Gospel of Mark. 25  The extraordinary appropriation and use of the verb for making disciples; the change in the meaning of baptism; the introduction of the threefold formula; the claim of authority; the promise of Jesus’ presence.

38

Chapter Two: Disjunction, Conflict, and Contradiction

teach, and here the model is Jesus’ instruction on the Reign of God – a thoroughly Jewish concept. At the heart of the new discipleship will be, as in Judaism, the keeping (τηρεῖν) of commandments. Here the commandments are those of Jesus, the messiah of Israel and the interpreter of God’s Law. Peter stands out among the Twelve, especially in the way in which the Gospel of Matthew appropriates the scene at Caesarea Philippi (Mt 17.1–8). If the future belongs to the church, the model is Peter – a Jewish Galilean. In addition to the Twelve, who are Jewish, the Gospel of Matthew offers two further examples of those who became disciples: Joseph of Arimathea (Mt 27.57) and the scribe of the Kingdom (Mt 13.51). Both are wholly Jewish. The new commission, then, draws upon Jewish models: the Twelve who are sent to the tribes of Israel, Peter the rock, the wealthy Arimathean, the exemplary scribe. The new commission also draws upon a Jewish model of piety: obedience to the Law of God as taught by God’s anointed. In some sense, then, the commission of Mt 28.16–20 insists that all the nations will become like Peter or James or Joseph or the scribes of the Kingdom. There is no other model offered in the Gospel of Matthew.26 Nonetheless, the final commission of Mt 28.16–20 envisions a new reality. Both the commission and the contents of discipleship are changed: the commission is to all the nations, and all the nations will become disciples. In a similar way, a new form of baptism is envisioned: the baptism of John for repentant Jews is replaced by a baptism of conversion in the threefold name. Finally, a new theology is proferred. Isaiah 7.14 was quoted from the Septuagint to invoke the presence of Yahweh in the birth story (Mt 1.23). Here the phrase is echoed (Mt 16.20) as a christological affirmation: the risen Christ is with the disciples to the end of the age. Showing through the veneer of this final commission are the definitions and images and standards that have controlled the presentation of Jesus as the messiah of Israel and the disciples as his flawed Jewish followers. At the end of this story, the Gospel of Matthew seeks to present a new reality, but the disjunction and discord with the basic story are obvious. This is most evident in the attempt to create a new linguistic and conceptual reality around the concept of discipleship. The concept of “making disciples of all the nations” is novel at both the linguistic and the conceptual level. In the conceptual world of the Gospel of Matthew, disciples are Jews who follow the messiah of Israel and, through the messiah’s teaching, keep the Laws of God. From a linguistic perspective, the use of μαθητεύσατε is almost without parallel. In the wider Greek world μαθητεύω is used in the intransitive to mean “be or become 26 Luke illustrates alternate modes of discipleship in Acts, and Paul argues vehemently for a different path for Gentile followers of Jesus. These models will become the norm of the developing Christian orthodoxy. These trajectories should not, however, be read back onto the text of the Gospel of Matthew.

2.0 Disjunction, Conflict and Contradiction: The Conceptual World of the Story

39

a pupil” – a usage found with Plutarch. The verb is not used in the Septuagint, in Philo, or in Josephus. The typical intransitive use (be or be made a disciple) occurs in the New Testament only in variant readings of Mt 27.57, where Joseph becomes a disciple to Jesus. In the accepted text of Mt 27.57 and elsewhere in the New Testament (Mt 13.52; 28.19; Acts 14.21), the verb is transitive with the sense of “to make disciples”. The verb form is passive in Mt 13.52 and in Mt 27.57: the scribe and Joseph “are made into disciples”. The verb form is active in Mt 28.19, as it is in Acts 14.21. After being stoned and expelled from Lystra, Paul and Barnabbas go into the city of Derbe. Two distinct verb forms are used to report their activity there: “After evangelizing (εὐαγγελισάμενοί) that city and having made disciples (μαθητεύσαντες) of many” they returned into Lystra, into Iconium, and into Antioch (Acts 14.21). The Gospel of Matthew now applies this distinctive verb form to all the nations. Thus, the call to the nations proferred at the end of the Gospel of Matthew stands out from the narrative and linguistic and conceptual world from which it emerges.27 The final scene seeks to redefine and to recreate the story of Israel as a story of the church and its work among the nations. Its efforts to give birth to this new vision are marked by pain and labor – by disjunction and discontinuity and contradiction – at both the linguistic and the conceptual level. 2.1.3 Summation The calling of followers is a central component and a key dynamic at work in the Gospel of Matthew. Jesus, the Messiah of Israel, announces the coming of the Kingdom and calls disciples to follow him. These Jewish followers are instructed to keep even the smallest elements of Jewish Law, and they are sent exclusively to the people of Israel. At the end, however, the disciples are to go to all nations with a new baptism and a new confession, and all nations are to become disciples. The discontinuity and discord that inhabit the conceptual world of the Gospel

27 There are alternatives to this awkward transition already at work within the story of Israel. Chief among them is the hope that the nations will stream to Zion to learn the way of Yahweh (Isa 2.2–3). Various places in the New Testament seem to take up this image, and traces of it may be present in the Gospel of Matthew when a centurion comes to Jesus. This theology is also present in the Pentecost story in Acts. The Gospel of Luke faces a similar challenge, but takes an entirely different tack. While the Gospel of Luke shows the nations streaming to Zion to learn of God’s ways, the followers of Jesus also go to the nations. For the Lukan tradition, the coming of the Holy Spirit initiates a new era that stands in continuity, but also in contrast, with the story of Israel. For the Lukan tradition, this new story requires a second narrative that moves beyond the story of the earthly Jesus and narrates the story of the church at work in the wider Hellenistic world. We know that story as the Acts of the Apostles. Here the Holy Spirit pushes the church beyond every boundary of race and gender and religion and culture and moves the gospel from Jerusalem to the heart of the Roman empire. This new trajectory, however, generates new vocabulary, a new geography, and a new character set.

40

Chapter Two: Disjunction, Conflict, and Contradiction

of Matthew can be seen clearly in the conflicting commissions given to Jesus’ disciples and in the shifting composition of their group. 2.2 Conceptualizing the Teaching of Jesus Dale Allison notes various types of material in which the Gospel of Matthew “seems to speak against itself.”28 Among the most dramatic of these are tensions created by the teaching of Jesus. 2.2.1 Tension between the Words of Jesus and his Deeds The Gospel of Matthew presents an extended narrative of Jesus’ activity that is interrupted by five major speech blocks (Mt 5–6; 10; 13.1–53; 18; 23–25). Here – and elsewhere – Jesus offers instruction to his followers. A comparison of what Jesus said with what he did in the Gospel of Matthew is revealing. 2.2.1.1 Anger Various elements of Jesus’ teaching focus on anger and how one should act. A conflicting portrait emerges. Mt 5.22



“All who are angry with a sibling shall be deserving of judgment” In 5.12–17 Jesus creates chaos in the temple In 5.18–22 Jesus curses a fig tree “Whoever should say to his sibling ‘Raka’ shall be worthy of the Sanhedrin. But whoever should say ‘You fool’ shall be worthy of the hell of fire.” In 12. 33–42 Jesus calls the Pharisees “a brood of vipers” who are unable to speak good things because they are evil. The scribes and Pharisees are “an evil and adulterous generation.” In 15.1–9 Jesus calls the scribes and Pharisees “hypocrites” who “make void the word of God.” Citing Isaiah, Jesus labels them as people who honor with the lips but not their hearts. They worship in vain, “teaching human precepts as doctrines.” In15.21–28 In response to a mother’s plea for her child, Jesus says, “It is not fair to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” In 17.14–21 When a man asks Jesus to have mercy on his epileptic son since the disciples could not heal him, Jesus replies “O you faithless and perverse generation. How much longer must I put up with you?” In 23.1–36 Jesus castigates his opponents – rabbis, scribes, Pharisees They burden others, but will not lift a finger to help (23.4) They do their works to be seen of others (23.5) They are hypocrites (23.13,23)

28  Dale Allison, Studies in Matthew: Interpretation Past and Present (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic Press, 2005), pp. 237–49. The quote is from p. 247. I have here used Allison’s categories and some of his illustrations, but have added numerous other examples.

2.0 Disjunction, Conflict and Contradiction: The Conceptual World of the Story



41

They shut the door of heaven to others but will not enter themselves (23.13) They cross land and sea to make converts, but then make them as much a child of hell as they are (23.25) They are blind guides (23.16) They are blind fools (23.27) They are descendants of those who murdered the prophets (23.31) They are snakes, a brood of vipers (232.33) All of the righteous blood ever shed is on their hands (23.35)

2.2.1.2 The Law Jesus claims to fulfill the Law down to its minute elements: Mt 5.17–18 “Do not think that I came to destroy the Law or the prophets. I have not come to destroy but to fulfill. Amen, I say to you, until heaven and earth should pass away, one iota or one stroke shall not pass away from the Law until all things are accomplished.”

Despite this claim, Jesus challenges and violates various aspects of the Law: 8.21–22 Jesus forbids a man to carry out his duty of burying his father. 12.1–8 Jesus condones Sabbath violations, claiming that “Something greater than the Temple is here.” 12.9–14 Jesus heals on the Sabbath

2.2.1.3 Love of Enemies In Mt 5.44 Jesus teaches his followers to “Love your enemies and pray for those persecuting you.” In Mt 11.20–24, however, Jesus begins to reproach the cities where he performed wonders: “Woe to you Chorazin, woe to you Bethsaida … Tyre and Sidon shall have it better in the day of judgment than you.” (11.21–22) “And you, Capernaum, you will not be lifted up to heaven; you will be cast down into hell. … I say to you that Sodom shall be better off in the day of judgment than you.” (11.23–24)

2.2.2 Tension within the Teaching of Jesus Various elements of Jesus’ teaching are marked by internal tension. This tension is seen when scattered sayings on a topic are collected. 2.2.2.1 The Place of the Gentiles Through parts of the Gospel of Matthew, there is a positive role for Gentiles. They are a part of the genealogy of Jesus (1.5–6 ) The Magi bring gifts and honor the newborn Jesus (2.1–12 )

42

Chapter Two: Disjunction, Conflict, and Contradiction

The light is arising on the land of the Gentiles (4.15–16 ) A Gentile centurion has faith unparalleled in Israel (9.18–26 ) The Gentiles will hope in the Servant of Yahweh (12.18–21) The risen Christ sends his disciples to the Gentiles (28.16–20 )

In other places Jesus himself disparages Gentiles and limits their role. 5.47

Followers of Jesus are to practice a higher standard than the Gentiles, whose parallel is tax collectors (5.46) 6.7 Jesus commands his followers not to pray as the Gentiles, who babble on in the hope of being heard 6.32 Followers of Jesus are not to worry about what to eat, drink, or wear, “for it is the Gentiles who seek all these things” 10.5–6 Jesus sends the Twelve on mission but commands them, “Do not go into the way of the Gentiles nor enter into a city of the Samaritans” 15.24 When a Canaanite woman addresses Jesus as Son of David and asks his mercy for her daughter, Jesus replies “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” In 15.26 Jesus employs the image of a dog. 18.17 If a follower of Jesus refuses counsel from a fellow believer and from the church, “Let them be to you as the Gentiles and the tax collectors.” 20.17–19 Jesus predicts he will be handed over to Gentiles, who will mock, beat, and kill him.

Gentiles play two very different roles in the future. In Mt 24.9, Jesus tells his followers: “And you shall be hated by all the nations on account of my name” (Mk 13.12 has “hated by all”). In Mt 24.14, the followers of Jesus will bear testimony against the nations.29 This future stands in stark contrast to the com29  Support for this reading can be found in Edwin Broadhead, “Mark 1,44: The Witness of the Leper,” Zeitschrift fur die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche 83, 3/4 (1992), pp. 257–65. Normally read as a positive witness in parallel to the final commission, the note in Mt 24.14 that the gospel of the kingdom “shall be preached in all the world” may also be judgmental. The saying in Mk 13 that “it is first necessary for the gospel to be preached unto the nations” (or Gentiles) is a temporal marker, but without judgment. Followers of Jesus should not expect the end of the age until certain events take place, including the preaching to the Gentiles. As a part of the events leading up to the end, believers will stand before councils, synagogues, governors, and kings because of Jesus (Mk 13.9). Their testimony is best read as “in witness against them.” This phrase from Mk 13.9 has been attached to the worldwide witness in Mt 24.14, which makes the saying both temporal and judgmental: “And this gospel of the kingdom shall be preached in the whole world as a witness against all the nations, and then shall come the end.” This type of negative testimony is not without precedent. A similar account is found in Mk 6.6b–13. When Jesus sends the Twelve to proclaim repentance and to heal, he commands them to travel light and to depend on the hospitality of the locals. If they are not welcomed or heard, they are commanded that “when you go out of that place shake the dust from beneath your feet as a witness against them (εἰς μαρτύριον)” (Mk 6.11). Mt 10.5–15 takes over this commission from the Gospel of Mark. Mt 10.14 includes the shaking off of the dust, but not the testimony against those who reject the messengers. Luke 9.1–6 borrows the same passage from the Gospel of Mark and includes the “as a testimony against them.” In the Gospel of Matthew, unlike the Markan sources and the Lukan parallel, Jesus limits the mission explicitly to Israel.

2.0 Disjunction, Conflict and Contradiction: The Conceptual World of the Story

43

mission in Mt 28.16–20 to “Make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name …” 2.2.2.2 The Revision of Torah In Mt 5.17–20, Jesus insists on the fulfillment of the Law down to the smallest element. In each of the 6 Antitheses in Mt 5.21–48, Jesus contrasts his own teaching with requirements from the Law. In forbidding oaths (5.33–37), Jesus is adding to the requirements of the Law. In forbidding equivalent retaliation (5.38–42), Jesus is changing the demands of the Law. The command to love one’s enemies (5.43–48) exceeds the requirements of the Law. The Law commands love for parents, but Jesus says he came to set son against father, daughter against mother, daughter-in-law against mother-inlaw, family members against the family (10.35–36). The disciples know that Jesus has warned them against the teaching of the Pharisees and Sadducees (Mt 16.5–12). Yet in Mt 23.2–3, Jesus says that the scribes and Pharisees sit on the seat of Moses and his disciples should “practice and keep whatever they say to you.” Disciples are not, however, to follow the practices of the rabbis. Jesus teaches that the son of man,30 is sovereign over the Sabbath (Mt 12.8), he heals on the Sabbath (Mt 12.9–14), and he defends the right of his followers to harvest food on the Sabbath (Mt 12.1–8). Why, then, does Jesus instruct his disciples to pray that their flight from the eschatological woes not happen on the Sabbath? (Mt 24.20). This passage was adapted from Mk 13.18, which says “Pray that it will not be in winter.” Why does the Gospel of Matthew add “nor on the Sabbath”? 2.2.2.3 The Wicked and their Destiny God’s love, like the rain, falls equally on the good and the evil, on the righteous and the unrighteous (Mt 5.45). Nonetheless, in the Gospel of Matthew, God consistently consigns the wicked to hell (Mt 13.42; 22.13; 24.51). 2.2.2.4 Commands to Secrecy Jesus requires his followers to practice their piety in secret, not to be seen by others (Mt 6.1). This applies to almsgiving (6.2–4); prayer (6.5–6); and fasting (6.16–18). In Mt 5.16 however, Jesus instructed his followers to “let you light shine before humans that they might see your good works and they might glorify you father in heaven.” 30 Which

may mean the human being.

44

Chapter Two: Disjunction, Conflict, and Contradiction

2.2.2.5 Contradictory Teachings Despite the instructions on how to fast in Mt 6.16–18, the followers of Jesus are not to fast while he is with them (Mt 9.15). Peacemakers shall be called childen of God (5.19) and followers of Jesus are to turn the other cheek (5.39–42), yet Jesus says “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword” (Mt 10.34). 2.3 Summation One of the reasons the Gospel of Matthew seems “to speak against itself”31 is because Jesus, in the Gospel of Matthew, does speak and act against himself on various issues and in various ways. These contradictions are a part of the larger discontinuity in the conceptual world of this gospel.

3.0 Disjunction, Conflict and Contradiction: The Linguistic Profile of the Story The disjunction seen in the structural framework and in the conceptual world of the Gospel of Matthew appears, at some points, in its linguistic profile. This is especially true in issues of definition, in the interweaving of borrowed materials, and in misreadings. 3.1 Tension Caused by Jesus using the Same Term in Different Ways In the parable of the weeds in the field (Mt 13.24–30) and in its interpretation (Mt 13.36–43), Jesus identifies the good seed as “the sons of the kingdom” (13.38). After seeing the faith of the centurion (Mt 8.5–13), Jesus speaks of the heavenly banquet. Many will come from East and West to eat with the patriarchs in the kingdom of heaven, but “but the sons of the kingdom shall be cast out into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (Mt 8.12). The righteous are those who do God’s will at various places in the Gospel of Matthew (1.19; 5.45; 10.41; 13.17,43,49; 23.28,29,35; 25.37,46; 27.4,19). Yet in Mt 9.13 Jesus declares that he “did not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” 3.2 Syntactical Problems Caused by Linkage of Appropriated Material The Gospel of Matthew joins various types of material in its telling of the story of Jesus. The Sermon on the Mount is a constructed unit that has been inserted into the Markan plot line to illustrate the teaching of Jesus. Distinct material (M) has been inserted in the temptation story at Mt 4.1–12, followed by appropri31 Allison,

Studies in Matthew, p. 237.

4.0 Summation: Disjunction in the Narrative World of the Gospel of Matthew

45

ation of material from the Gospel of Mark (Mt 4.12–16). Between the opening lines of the temptation story in Mt 4.1 and the closing of the Sermon in 7.28, Jesus is the explicit subject of only one sentence (Mt 4.17). Thus, various scenes portray action without an antecedent or with a very distant antecedent. There is a distinct difference in the way the Gospel of Matthew appropriates the Gospel of Mark between Mt 4.23–11.30 and Mt 12–28. Even the transition between the two larger units is awkward. Mt 12 begins with “at that time,” but its point of reference is not clear. This may be a repetition of the same phrase from Mt 11.25. 3.3 Deconstructing Parallelism The entrance of Jesus into Jerusalem in Mt 21.1–11 is framed as the fulfillment of the prophecy of Zechariah 9.9: Say to the daughter of Zion Behold your king comes to you Humble and mounted upon a donkey, And upon a colt, the son of a donkey (Mt 21.5)

This is an example of Hebraic parallelism. The construction in Zachariah is synonymous parallelism in which the second member (stich) reiterates the first. This very traditional construction is missed in the Gospel of Matthew. There the disciples bring both “the donkey and the colt” and Jesus “sat on them” (Mt 21.7).

4.0 Summation: Disjunction in the Narrative World of the Gospel of Matthew Seen through the lens of formalistic analysis, the Gospel of Matthew displays, at the same time, both coherence and disunity. The central story line is clear: this gospel locates the story of Jesus the Messiah in the lineage of Israel’s heroes and in the legacy of Israel’s faith, practice, and scriptures. It does so with a plot line that alternates between narrative and discourse – between what Jesus did and what Jesus said. In the climactic scene of this gospel, Jesus calls his disciples back together and reconstitutes both their commission and their composition. For the Gospel of Matthew, the story of Jesus is the story of Israel, but it is also the story of all nations. The telling of this tale, however, is marked by disjuncture, conflict, and contradiction. This is true of the structural framework of the gospel, it is true of its conceptual framework, and it is even true of its linguistic profile.

46

Chapter Two: Disjunction, Conflict, and Contradiction

5.0 The Consequences of Chaos If this is a fractured story within a disjointed narrative world, what are the implications? What does this say about the author of such a text? What does it imply about the composition of the narrative? What does this suggest about the context in which such a story was composed and read? What does this say about the wider history of this gospel? The text of the Gospel of Matthew presents a fractured story within a disjointed narrative world. For many readers confronted by such a text, there is a psychological need to complete the story and to close up its gaps. This process can be seen in the Hebrew Bible, where the harsh judgment pronounced throughout the book of Amos is ameliorated through an ending, widely considered a later addition, that speaks of hope and restoration. The abrupt ending at Mk 16.8 was completed in various, conflicting ways by later scribes. The same tendency is seen among a host of scholars using redactional criticism and narrative techniques to argue for unity and coherence in the Gospel of Matthew. This fractured story within a disjointed narrative world also calls into question any image of an author who controls the design of the narrative. While scholars who sponsor Matthew the literary genius have become more elaborate in their explanations of Matthean intent and design, the chaos remains. If Matthew is an author in charge, then the question of competence must be raised. This fractured story within a disjointed narrative world challenges any compositional scheme that posits a strong sense of control, continuity, intentionality, and design. It also challenges the idea of a singular text and a short period of writing. Thus, the idea that we have access to a text that Matthew has carefully refined for didactic and theological purposes within a specific context becomes difficult to sustain. The contours of the narrative suggest a different, more extensive dialectic has controlled the composition of this gospel. This fractured story within a disjointed narrative world suggests the context in which this gospel was composed is more diverse and conflicted than previously described, and it suggests a wider history that is marked by various trajectories of debate and collaboration. As a consequence, the disjunctive nature of this gospel calls for reconsideration of its basic identity and its central function. Most significantly, this rugged profile suggests the debate is not primarily with external forces such as gnosticism or some external form of Judaism. I will argue that in the Gospel of Matthew the loudest voices of conflict are coming from within the house.

6.0 Conclusion Why then does the narrative we know as the Gospel of Matthew tolerate and even sponsor such chaos and contradiction? I will argue that the contradictory

6.0 Conclusion

47

development of discipleship – both in terms of composition and commission – flows from the necessary task of incorporating primal Israel only traditions and tradents into a gospel narrative that seeks a much wider view. This is, at the first level, not a question of authorial design but rather an issue of tradition and authority. Secondly, I will argue that this construction is mimetic – it reflects the conflicted reality on the ground in the orbit of the Gospel of Matthew. Thirdly, I will argue that the larger vision of the Gospel of Mattthew is proleptic and teleological: it imagines the completion of God’s work with Israel in terms that are both hopeful and hortatory in nature. Descriptive language will express the reality that now exists. The Gospel of Matthew, however, must develop a new language – one only loosely grounded in the narrative – to articulate and to advocate for a vision that does not yet exist.

Chapter Three

Works in Process: Mouvance, Variability, Viability The previous chapter attempted to deconstruct the notion, popular and critical, that Matthew is an author in control of his text. Particular attention was given to the disjunction in the structural and conceptual world, but also to the contradictions at the level of definition and linguistics. In the aftermath of this analysis, I wish to consider alternative ways for understanding the identity of this text and the manner in which it functions. I will argue that the disjointed nature of this narrative is not simply a descriptive reality; it is also essential and generative. The voices of conflict that permeate the Gospel of Matthew are central to its identity, and they unveil the dynamics by which this gospel functions. I will argue that the identity and function of the Gospel of Matthew is generated through an organic process that involves mouvance, variability, and viability.

1.0 Mouvance, Variability, Viability The term mouvance was employed within literary studies by Paul Zumthor in his analysis of medieval French poetry.1 Zumthor noted that some medieval works have a known author and a rather stable history of transmission. He recognized that other texts combined authorial anonymity with high levels of textual variation. He noted that these variations were not simply issues of language or style, but involved various levels of reshaping the texts. The term mouvance has different connotations and is difficult to translate into English. It can be used in the following ways.2 1. Je ne veux pas dire que c’est moi qui ai provoqué le débat, mais je pense que je me suis inséré dans une mouvance populaire où est apparu un degré d’inquiétude qui se manifeste toujours et qui continuera de se manifester les 20 et 21 avril prochain. I do not claim to be the one who sparked the debate, but I think I became involved in a popular movement from which emerged a degree of concern that is still present and that will continue to be present on April 20 and 21. 2. Je dirais que cette mémoire, loin d’etre figée dans un passé révolu, est en perpétuelle mouvance, en perpétuel devenir. 1 2

 Paul Zumthor, “Essai de poétique médiévale,” Collection Poétique (Paris: Seuil, 1972).  A host of possibilities is listed at http://context2.reverso.net/info.php?q=mouvance.

1.0 Mouvance, Variability, Viability

49

I believe that this memory is far from frozen in the past; it is in perpetual motion, perpetual evolution. 3. On voit donc qu’il y a une mouvance à l’intérieur des organisations internationales, qui fait en sorte qu’il y a un besoin d’analyser l’ensemble des organisations. Et ce faisant, on devrait peut-être regarder,… It is clear therefore that a shift is taking place within the international organizations, which creates a need to analyse all of them. As part of this process, we should perhaps look here as well in Parliament at the way Canada joins these organizations and signs protocols and treaties without parliament having any say, or at least much.

In various contexts mouvance refers to the action of motion or shift, but it can also refer in a substantive way to a movement. Zumthor uses the concept to explain how somes texts develop through a variety of manifestations, and there seems to be no one original and no known author. He believes these two traits are connected, and he seeks to redefine, for medieval literature, the understanding of the oeuvre (work). Rather than seeing the work as the production of the author to be recovered through a stemma of texts, Zumthor explores the category of oeuvre mouvante (“a work in motion” or “a work in progress”). A text that is oeuvre mouvante would be characterized by authorial anonymity, collective rewriting, influence from oral tradition, textual changes for changing audiences or functions.3

Zumthor argued, for example, that the Song of Roland is known through four distinct text types.4 It is not clear who wrote the text, and there is enough difference between the text types to make it impossible to construct a genealogy or stemma. Because of this, Zumthor places the four text types side by side and refers to them as the Songs of Roland. A variety of responses from the field of medieval studies noted that some texts indeed have an author and a foundational text through which to judge various versions. Perhaps the most obvious attempt to control the text is voiced by Chaucer. He believed the verbal integrity of his writing was central to its identity, and he feared the changes that might be made in scribal transmission.5 He said farewell to his work (“Go, litel bok”) at the end of Troilus and Criseyde, then expressed his deep concern and distrust for what scribes might do to his text: And for ther is so gret diversite  In Englissh and in writyng of oure tonge,

3 See the description provided by Bella Millet, “What is mouvance?” found at http://www. southampton.ac.uk/~wpwt/mouvance/mouvance.htm. 4  Oxford, Venice 4, Venice 7, Chateauroux. 5 See the discussion provided by Millett, “What is mouvance?”

50

Chapter Three: Works in Process: Mouvance, Variability, Viability

So prey I God that non myswrite the, Ne the mysmetre for defaute of tonge …6

The second line of critical response noted that not all scribal editions are of equal quality and value. There are poor scribes and bad renditions of texts. It is clear, then that oeuvre mouvante is not an essential trait of all medieval literature.7 With these refinements, however, many scholars would accept that some texts and their manuscripts are best explained by Zumthor’s concept. I will translate the term mouvance with concepts like variability and viability, and I will refer to the oeuvre (work) as a Tradition. I will articulate Zumthor’s oeuvre mouvante through the concept of Living Tradition. Through this term I will give attention not only to what is produced, but to the process of its production. I will do so with an ancient text. I will argue that the Gospel of Matthew is a variable, viable work in process and that this process is an essential component of its identity and function. To do so, I will need to counter a long history of interpreting the Gospel of Matthew as an object fixed by its author and subject to recovery by interpreters.

2.0 Text as an Object A text that comes from the hand of an author implies authority and accuracy. To edit or to change such a text can be seen as a type of corruption, and in many cases it is illegal. Objectivity and authority go hand in hand. Such objectification can support clear lines of transmission, but it can also clarify the status, authority, and function of a text. The Holy Bible was written by men divinely inspired and is God’s revelation of Himself to man. It is a perfect treasure of divine instruction. It has God for its author, salvation for its end, and truth, without any mixture of error, for its matter. Therefore, all Scripture is totally true and trustworthy. It reveals the principles by which God judges us, and therefore is, and will remain to the end of the world, the true center of Christian union, and the supreme standard by which all human conduct, creeds, and religious opinions should be tried. All Scripture is a testimony to Christ, who is Himself the focus of divine revelation.8

This is the ultimate example of objectification and the ultimate claim to authority: God is the author, men divinely inspired are the scribes, and the text is totally true and trustworthy. The evidence of this authenticity is found in a collection of passages from the Bible.9 This statement also presumes that everyone knows 6  Chaucer, Troilus and Criseyde, 5. 1793–96, found in L. D. Benson, ed., The Riverside Chaucer, 3rd edn. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988), p. 584. 7 See the discussion by Millett, “What is mouvance?” 8  Baptist Faith and Message, 2000, Article 1. 9  The Baptist Faith and Message cites the following biblical texts: Exod 24.4; Deut 4.1–2; 17.19; Josh 8.34; Pss 19.7–10; 119.11,89,105,140; Isa 34.16; 40.8; Jer 15.16; 36.1–32; Mt 5.17–18;

3.0 Interpretation as Recovery

51

what “the Holy Bible” is. There is no discussion of language, versions, manuscripts or other such complexities. Here “The Holy Bible” is what it says it is because it does what it says it does. This objectification applies by extension to the canon, and it obviously applies to each of the individual books. This circular apologetic could be paraphrased in this way: the Gospel of Matthew was written by Matthew, a man divinely inspired, and is God’s revelation of Himself to man. It is a perfect treasure of divine instruction. It has God as its author, salvation for its end, and truth, without any mixture of error, for its matter.

Other interpreters, of course, are more nuanced and seek to engage with integrity the complexities of ancient texts. Ulrich Luz describes the process in this way: Matthew endeavors at the beginning to point out the chief theological concerns of his Gospel. Christology and the way of salvation from Israel to the Gentiles are in the foreground. He works in a manner that lets motifs and themes resound, picking them up again later and intensifying them. Thus he speaks of the Messiah of Israel, the Son of David … , the rejection by Israel which is foreshadowed … , the threat of judgement over Israel … , the coming of the Messiah to the Gentiles … , Jesus as the Son of God … , and the founding of the disciple group in the Galilee of the Gentiles …. The thematic inclusiveness is emphasized by the numerous geographically accented Old Testament quotations …. 10

Luz concludes that Whoever wants to do justice to Matthew – in preaching or teaching – has to take him seriously as a narrator and to understand the linguistic form of narrative as a part of the matter with which he is concerned.11

These two approaches could hardly be further apart in terms of scholarship, clarity, and standards of interpretation, and they do not agree on who Matthew is and on how and what he writes. But they share in common the objectification of the text in the hands of Matthew.12 This starting point has decisive implications for the process of interpretation.

3.0 Interpretation as Recovery If the text is an object in the hand of the author, then interpretation becomes mostly about recovery, reconstruction, and exegesis. Bella Millet notes that 22.29; Lk 21.33; 24.44–46; John 5.39; 16.13–15; 17.17; Acts 2.16 ff.; 17.11; Rom 15.4; 16.25–26; 2 Tim 3.15–17; Heb 1.1–2; 4.12; 1 Pet 1.25; 2 Pet 1.19–21. The closest rival to this objectification of writing and transmission is likely found in the chain of witnesses cited in the opening lines of Pirque Avot. The oral tradition of the rabbis is traced back to Moses in Pirque Avot. The Baptist Faith and Message does the same for the written tradition through its reference to Exodus 24.4: “And Moses wrote down all the words of the Lord.” 10 Ulrich Luz, Matthew 1–7, p. 100. The omitted sections are scripture references. 11  Ulrich Luz, Matthew 1–7, p. 101. 12  They could hardly be more different, of course, on who Matthew is and what the text looks like.

52

Chapter Three: Works in Process: Mouvance, Variability, Viability

Traditionally, the task of the editor of classical works has been seen as the examination and (where possible) comparison of surviving manuscripts to identify and eliminate those features of their texts which are scribal rather than authorial, in order to “reverse the process of transmission and restore the words of the ancients as closely as possible to their original form.”13

A similar approach has been taken by textual critics of the New Testament. The object of all textual criticism is to recover as far as possible the actual words written by the author.14

Since this text is not available, the “as far as possible” becomes problematic. One must then privilege certain text types. Thus, one scholar wrote recently of “Some Doctrinal Variants in Matthew 1 and Luke 2 and the Authority of the Neutral Text.”15 This model suggests the task is to recover the author’s original, authoritative text as best one can, then read it (exegesis). In this approach the transmission of the text is an afterthought.

4.0 Transmission as Afterthought If the goal is the text in the hand of the author and the task is “to reverse the process of transmission,” then the transmission of the text is easily seen as an afterthought. This is true in the sense that the text history is viewed as a series of attempts to replicate the original. These manuscripts are also afterthoughts in that they are typically considered secondary and often are suspected of corrupting the text. David Parker notes that in this view any textual critic who found an autograph – a text by the author – would be out of a job. This approach to transmission as afterthought also results in privileging certain texts above others,16 and “variant” readings are assigned to the footnotes. The textual history is, in this view, the muck and mud through which one must pick their way toward the foundational text.

13 Millet, “What is mouvance?” She cites from L. D. Reynolds and N. G. Wilson, Scribes and Scholars: A Guide to the Transmission of Greek and Latin Literature, 2nd edn. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1974), p. 212. 14 Kirsopp Lake, The Text of the New Testament (London: 1913), p. 1, cited in Parker, The Living Text of the Gospels, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), p. 4. 15  Alexander Globe, “Some Doctrinal Variants in Matthew 1 and Luke 2 and the Authority of the Neutral Text,” CBQ 42 (1980), pp. 52–57. 16  Much of New Testament textual criticism has favored a “Neutral Text” over against the “Majority” (Byzantine) text type. Some interpreters, however, reverse the standards, believing more is better.

5.0 The Text as Received Object

53

5.0 The Text as Received Object The text has been objectified not only in terms of its production, but also in terms of its reception. This can be seen in three unique concepts related to the history of a text. The term Textus Receptus (the Received Text) has been used to refer to the first Greek edition prepared by Erasmus on the basis of a single text. There is a false presumption that this represents the Majority Tradition of the later Byzantine Texts, which far outnumber any other text type. A great deal of authority has been invested in this text type: some believe, through a circular logic, that this is the most numerous type precisely because it is the closest to the authentic text. However, the term Textus Receptus is not simply a concept applicable to a conservative reading. Many have noted that the Nestle-Aland critical text or the UBS critical text of the Greek New Testament serves as a Received Text for most scholars of the New Testament. In either version, the text at hand is a received object. Variants and other manuscripts are assigned to the footnotes, if mentioned at all, and the task is to read and interpret the text on the table. Secondly, a great deal of scholarship deals with Reception History. This field of inquiry asks how a text, usually ancient, was taken up and appropriated within a later context. One could ask then, about the reception of Josephus in the early modern history. One could ask how the writings of Philo were received in the development of Middle Platonism or Neo-Platonism. The common thread here is that the text is a commodity that can be passed on and received. The key question in this approach is how one sees the later developments over against the foundational text. Thirdly, there is some tendency in this direction in recent New Testament studies that focus on the nachleben (afterlife) of a text. Wirkungsgeschichte (the history of effect or history of influence) looks at the way a text effected other eras and places. Ulrich Luz says Under “history of influence” (Wirkungsgeschichte) I understand the history, reception, and actualizing of a text in media other than the commentary, thus, e. g., in sermons, canonical law, hymnody, art, and in the actions and sufferings of the church.17

The danger here is not the attempt to observe how different eras and historical contexts read and were effected by engagement with scripture. The danger arises when scripture is treated as a fixed object to be taken up by the interpreter. The emphasis then falls on how the text is used rather than the possibility that the text itself is developing and the implications of this process.

17 Luz,

Matthew 1–7, pp. 95–99.

54

Chapter Three: Works in Process: Mouvance, Variability, Viability

6.0 Primordiality All of these ventures presume a primordial or foundational form of the text and the authority inherent in such a construct. The foundational text is understood as an object in the hand of the author – an object to be received, recovered, exegeted. There are two major problems with this paradigm, particularly in relation to the Gospel of Matthew. First, we do not know much about Matthew. We do not know who Matthew is, we have no certainty about when or where or why he wrote, and we do not have access to a text that is less than 250 years from the time of writing. Secondly, it cannot be presumed that such knowledge provides the key to understanding the identity and function of this gospel. It is not clear that a primordial text would provide the answers and the authority sought, but it is clear that we do not have one. More importantly, there is good reason to question whether there ever was a primordial text for the Gospel of Matthew. A closer look at two other biblical traditions and one non-biblical text shows the complexity involved in such a quest for primordiality. 6.1 Biblical Texts at Qumran The discoveries at Qumran have revolutionized our understanding of the Hebrew Bible. This is true in terms of content, but it is also true in terms of context and process of production. Students of Biblical Hebrew learn to read the Masoretic Text, which was compiled between the 7th and 10th century of the common era. What is extraordinary about this is that the Masoretic Text is essentially one manuscript – the Leningrad Codex – from the 10th century ce. It was simply a matter of faith that this text somehow represented the way the Hebrew Bible looked in the period of 2nd Temple Judaism. Until 1948, there was really nothing to compare in order to address the question. The first wave of analysis of the Dead Sea Scrolls (1st century bce to 1st century ce) described “a remarkable agreement between the ancient Isaiah and the version known through the Masoretic Text.”18 Scholars like Millar Burrows used the Masoretic Text as a Textus Receptus and read the Dead Sea Scrolls in light of it. This led to the conclusion that the Isaiah scroll “confirms the antiquity and authenticity of the Masoretic text.”19 While this is probably not an accurate description of the relationship (because it is an anachronism), the problem also goes much wider. Some twenty other 18  See the discussion in Werner Kelber, “The History of the Closure of Biblical Texts,” in his collection of works entitled The Interface of Orality and Writing: Speaking, Seeing, Writing in the Shaping of New Genres, ed. A. Weissenrieder and R. Coote (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), p. 76. 19 Cited in Kelber, “The History of the Closure of Biblical Texts,” p. 76.

6.0 Primordiality

55

copies of Isaiah were found at Qumran and one was found at Wadi Muraba’at. Six commentaries (pesharim) on Isaiah were also found at Qumran, and Isaiah is quoted in many of the other scrolls from Qumran. There is significant diversity among these Isaiah texts. The great irony, of course, is that Isaiah is itself a composite text. The idea of reading the Qumran scrolls through the lens of the Masoretic Text is questionable. The chief editor of the scrolls, Eugene Ulrich, now sees the variability of the texts as a central issue: The question dominating the discussion of the history of the biblical text is how to explain the pluriformity observable in the biblical manuscripts from Qumran, the MT, and the versions.20

Ulrich takes seriously the larger implications of this variability. He asks Should not the object of the text criticism of the Hebrew Bible be, not the single (and textually arbitrary?) collection of Masoretic texts of the individual books, but the organic, developing, pluriform Hebrew text – different for each book – such as the evidence indicates?”21

Werner Kelber argues that fifty years of research in the Qumran scrolls is producing clarity at a number of points.   1. The variability of scripture at Qumran is indicative of Judaism in general in the 2nd Temple era.   2. Texts and readings should not be labeled as variants or as secondary based on later norms.   3. The Qumran texts do not show an urgency to create a norm, but rather a tolerance of pluriformity.   4. There was no Textus Receptus for this period; pluriformity was the norm for the formative years of rabbinic Judaism and Christianity.   5. The text critical search for any form of original text runs counter to the evidence on the ground.   6. Just as there was no normative Judaism prior to 135 ce, there was no normative biblical text.   7. The Roman political intrusions made the work of producing a standard text difficult, if not impossible.   8. Scribes were not simply copyists; they were also creative traditionists.   9. There was no concept of the Bible comparable to the modern concept to be found at Qumran; Enoch was as important as Deuteronomy. 10. There were two or three textual traditions of the Pentatuch in circulation; to assign them canonical status is an anachronism.22

 Cited in Kelber, “The History of the Closure of Biblical Texts,” pp. 76–78.  Cited in Kelber, “The History of the Closure of Biblical Texts,” p. 77. 22 Kelber, “The History of the Closure of Biblical Texts,” pp. 77–78. 20 21

56

Chapter Three: Works in Process: Mouvance, Variability, Viability

6.2 The Damascus Document This variability is not limited to biblical texts at Qumran. While Qumran scholars will continue to debate the details of the history of the Damascus Document, the larger framework and the central dynamics of its development are clear.23 The Damascus Document is not a fixed text produced in one setting under the control of an author; it is instead a living tradition that emerges in various forms across a broad span of time and place and interest. I would argue that this dynamic process is not simply anecdotal; it is essential and definitive for this document. Moreover, I would argue that the process observed in the Damascus Document is paradigmatic; the larger collection of texts at Qumran can be seen in this light. Moreover, this model provides a norm through which to observe production of texts within the wider framework of ancient Judaism and early Christianity. The Damascus Document developed in various forms across a wide span of time and place and interest. More specifically, the Damascus Document developed in conjunction with its own history and with its changing environments. It may thus be seen as an evolutionary process guided by accidents of time and place, but also by the skills and interests and needs of its tradents. The fluidity of the tradition is obvious, especially in terms of time and place. The manuscripts of the Damascus Document were found at two distinct sites (Cairo and Qumran), both of which were points of collection for a wide variety of texts and traditions. The internal geography of the tradition is equally vast, stretching from Babylon to Judah to Damascus. The tradition of the Damascus Document stretches across two temporal eras, from the ancient world to the medieval. There is fluidity even within these various sites and stages of production. The Damascus Document was formulated in two distinct manuscripts in Cairo, and it was found in three different caves at Qumran, where it was produced on two types of material (leather and papyrus). There is an internal fluidity to the Damascus Document. The reconstructed text falls easily into two distinct parts – the Admonition and the Laws. Both of these units are composites built up from earlier materials. Moreover, the Admonition and the Laws have been subjected to different redactional strategies. The Admo23  Charlotte Hempel discusses the nature of the manuscripts and fragments from both Cairo and Qumran in The Laws of the Damascus Document: Sources, Tradition, and Redaction (Atlanta: SBL, 1998), pp. 1–3. See also the careful description by Hempel in The Damascus Texts (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000), pp. 19–25. Further discussion is found in Philip R. Davies, The Damascus Document: An Interpretation of the ‘Damascus Document’ (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1983). See also the discussion in Hempel, “Community Origins in the Damascus Document in the Light of Recent Scholarship,” in D. W. Parry and E. C. Ulrich, eds., The Provo International Conference on the Dead Sea Scrolls (Leiden: Brill, 1999), pp. 316–29 and in Hempel, “The Laws of the Damascus Document and 4QMMT” in Jospeh.M. Baumgarten, Esther G. Chazon, and Avital Pinnick, eds., The Damascus Document: A Centennial of Discovery (Leiden: Brill, 2000), pp. 69–84.

6.0 Primordiality

57

nitions contains two different views of the role of the Teacher of Righteousness. The Laws contain two types of halakhic instruction – general and specific. Various sociological and theological settings are invoked within the Damascus Document. A great deal of energy is given to the history of Israel, with a particular focus on the deuteronomistic theme of disobedience and exile. The origins of the sponsoring community are traced within the document in four distinct accounts. There is concern for the origins of the movement, but also for its transition into a larger community. Various material is employed to prepare the community for the end of the age. It is clear that these various performances and rhetorical moves help to identify the tradent community and to address its place on the map of ancient Judaism. Validation and vindication are sought, but it is clear that a process of encouragement and of recruitment is also underway. There is no author nor owner for the Damascus Document. Indeed, it presents itself as the work of a community underway from Babylon to Judah to Damascus to the end of the age. The Damascus Document thus presents itself as oeuvre mouvante, a work in process, a Living Tradition. A critical awareness of this process can illuminate the larger field of Qumran texts. A clear dialogue exists between the developing traditions of the Damascus Document and other sectrarian texts such as the Community Rule and 4QMMT, but also with pseudepigraphical works like Jubilees. Each of these works participates in this process, and each is shaped in turn by these engagements. 6.3 The Teachings of Jesus The quest for primordiality is also problematic in relation to the teachings of Jesus. Kelber argues that a variability akin to that at Qumran is to be found in the early Jesus tradition. It was, says Kelber, “an insistently pluriform phenomenon” because Jesus presented himself as “a vocal, rhetorical authority.”24 If Jesus gave the same speech in two different locales on the same day, this second performance is as authentic as the first. In the predominantly oral culture in which Jesus operated each oral rendition of a story or a saying was an original, indeed the original. While historical critics are inclined to sift through the textual tradition in search for the one original, oral culture operates with a plurality of originals.25

Kelber believes this realigns the paradigm. More is involved here than a mere change from singular to plural. The coexistence of multiple original renditions suggests equiprimordiality …”26  Kelber, “The History of the Closure of Biblical Texts,” p. 78  Kelber, “The History of the Closure of Biblical Texts,” p. 78 26 Kelber, “The History of the Closure of Biblical Texts,” p. 79 24 25

58

Chapter Three: Works in Process: Mouvance, Variability, Viability

This reconceptualizaton is generally applicable to the Gospel of Matthew, but there are important differences to be addressed. First, unlike the Jesus tradition, the Gospel of Matthew is not composed in a singular context of orality. Neither should it been seen solely in terms of chirography (writing by hand). The Gospel of Matthew actually bridges the realms of orality and writing. On the one hand, it is a part of the process of committing the oral tradition to writing. In some sense, it comes late to this compositional process, since it seems to receive the bulk of its traditions (Gospel of Mark, Sayings Tradition, scripture citation) in written form. It is now generally acknowledged, however, that there is no clear line when writing began and orality ceased. Oral transmission continued for some period alongside the process of writing. The Gospel of Matthew is witness to the period of transition from the oral to the written. But the Gospel of Matthew partakes it orality in another way; it is a text designed to be read aloud. Numerous scholars have noted that an unpointed, unpunctuated text with no division between words and few place markers presumed that the reader, through intonation, inflection, pause, and accent, would complete the production of the text for the listening audience. This would be true as well for a private reading: it is likely that the text was read aloud. For most people in the ancient world, texts were heard. In this sense, the Gospel of Matthew, while it drew upon oral tradition, also served as a script for the continued oral performance of the text. The Gospel of Matthew is distinct in a second way: unlike oral tradition, most scribes did not produce two texts in one day. It would be difficult to argue that all manuscripts are equally primordial, since each depends on another. One could argue, however, that the Gospel of Matthew develops along several trajectories; one might then speak of multiprimordiality. The consequences for the history of the text and for the history of the tradition are not the same, but there are similarities. David Parker says of the text: “The further back we go, the greater seems to be the degree of variability.”27 Kelber looks more to the wider picture: While historical and textual criticism by and large operates on the assumption of a foundational text at the beginning, the actual scribal evidence on the ground suggests pluriformity at the outset and something akin to a foundational text at a later, secondary stage in the tradition.28

I will apply traits of textual history in a wider sense by investigating Tradition History, but in a narrower sense by looking at the specific case of one gospel. I will argue that the Gospel of Matthew is indeed oeuvre mouvante (a work in process); it is one of those texts characterized by authorial anonymity, collective rewriting, influence from oral tradition, and textual changes for changing audi27

 David Parker, The Living Text of the Gospels, p. 188. in Kelber, “The History of the Closure of Biblical Texts,” p. 79.

28 Cited

7.0 The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

59

ences or functions.29 I will not argue that this is an ontological category, nor that it applies to all ancient texts. I will argue, however, that the Gospel of Matthew is a Living Tradition, both in its composition and in its history of transmission. I will further argue that this is more than a descriptive trait: it goes to the heart of the question of identity and function.

7.0 The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition Rather than seeing the Gospel of Matthew as an object – as a foundational text created by an author and recovered by scholars – I will pursue the larger dynamics through which this gospel was composed and transmitted. The primary focus of the investigation will be the process: the composition from conflicting sources and the transmission through manuscripts and performances. Both processes are defining elements in the development of the text. The rallying cry of the Renaissance era was ad fontes (back to the sources). With this motto scholars sought to move behind the traditions of church and society and to renew their knowledge by reading the ancient writers. Classicists thus sought out texts of Plato and Virgil, Zwingli looked for texts of the church fathers, Erasmus sought texts of the Greek New Testament. These scholars hoped to go back to the foundational texts of antiquity and thus to challenge, to correct, and to renew the thinking of their own age. I wish to use the motto in a different sense. A font is also a fountain. The German Quelle serves in the same way, perhaps with more clarity: it means the source, but it is also used of the place where water emerges from the ground. In some dialects of English, this a “spring” – the place where the water springs from the ground. I will read the Gospel of Matthew in these terms. It is a Living Tradition: it is moveable, variable, and vital. It is less like the holy grail – an object that can be held, passed on, recovered – and more like a watershed. There is more than one source, and there is more than one stream flowing into and circulating through and flowing from the Gospel of Matthew. More importantly, the Gospel of Matthew partakes in a moving river of tradition, and its participation in that tradition makes it what it is. I argued in the previous chapter that the Gospel of Matthew is marked by disjunction, conflict, and contradiction, and that this is true in its structural framework, in its conceptual world, and at the linguistic level. This chapter looked at the traits that suggest a text should be labeled oeuvre mouvante – a work in process: authorial anonymity, collective rewriting, influence from oral tradition, textual changes for changing audiences or functions. These concepts 29 See

the description provided by Millet, “What is mouvance?”

60

Chapter Three: Works in Process: Mouvance, Variability, Viability

were shown to be relevant for such biblical materials as the Qumran scrolls and the Jesus tradition. I then sought to adapt these concepts to the particular nature of the Gospel of Matthew as a text with variability and viability, an “organic, developing, pluriform” text.30 In the chapters ahead I will argue that the disjointed profile of the Gospel of Matthew is not incidental or anecdotal. It is a defining trait, and it reveals the dynamic process through which this gospel functions as a Living Tradition.

30 The phrase is used of the Hebrew Bible by Eugene Ulrich, cited in Kelber, “The History of the Closure of Biblical Texts,” p. 77. A similar approach is applied to the production of the Talmud by Moulie Vidas in Tradition and Formation of the Talmud (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014).

Chapter Four

Beyond Matthew This chapter will consider the complexity and the value of the manuscript tradition for the Gospel of Matthew. If, as previous scholarship has suggested, the key to understanding the Gospel of Matthew lies in reconstructing the foundational text and understanding the intent and design of its author, how does the manuscript tradition aid or hinder that quest? The first section follows the trail through the manuscripts in the way one would search for an original text and for the author’s design. The second section will look at the relation between tradition and author in various other works and ask how this process might inform the Gospel of Matthew. This analysis will demonstrate the difficulties of trying to recover a foundational text and its intent.

1.0 Back to Matthew: From NA28 to p64 Most readers, whether critical or not, proceed as if reading the Gospel of Matthew can open the reader to the intent, design, and message of Matthew as author. To follow that path is more complex than it first appears. On the desk before me is an English translation of the Gospel of Matthew, in this case the New Oxford Annotated Bible with the New Revised Standard Version. In addition to the Gospel of Matthew, it contains an introduction, a set of critical notes about the text, and a short running commentary at the bottom of the column. My own notes and observations and ideas fill the margins and various parts of the text are circled and underlined. When I study, this English text allows me to quickly search for parallels and for Old Testament citations. When I read this text, I am not yet reading Matthew; Matthew did not write in English. Many people would be aware that this version of the Gospel of Matthew, like almost all modern versions, is dependent upon a critical edition of the Greek New Testament. There are three of these on my desk. One is the 4th edition of the United Bible Society Greek New Testament. This edition is on my desk because it contains, at the bottom of the pages, a running Greek-English dictionary that aids with definitions, locations, and conjugations, thus speeding up my reading of the text. Beside it is the 28th edition of the Nestle-Aland Novum Testamentum Graece. The text of Matthew is identical in these two Greek editions. The NA28, however, contains an extensive text-critical apparatus that points to various ways

62

Chapter Four: Beyond Matthew

a text has appeared in the major witnesses to the New Testament – papyri, codices, versions, lectionaries. The third version is the Synopsis Quattor Evangelorium edited by Kurt Aland. The text is the same as the Nestle-Aland version, but this tool allows me to quickly compare the Greek text of the four gospels on any one passage. This enables me to see similarities and differences in how a particular story or saying is presented in each of the gospels of the New Testament. In particular, I am looking for omissions, additions, word changes, editoral changes. When I read the Greek text of any of the three editions, I am reading an eclectic text. Each reading has been chosen by a committee from the options available. The textual apparatus allows me to evaluate their decision in particular passages and to draw my own conclusions about how the text should read. When I read these texts, however, I am not reading Matthew’s text. I am reading a composite text based on a selected number of the more than 5000 surviving manuscripts of the New Testament. The text I am reading never existed in antiquity: it was constructed on critical standards by a committee of scholars in the 21st century. Behind these critical editions of Greek text stand major lines of tradition for the development of the text. These text types or groupings of manuscripts have been labeled with names such Alexandrian, Western, and Byzantine. Each group has its own characteristics and time period, and scholars assign differing values to them. When we read one of these lines of tradition, we are not yet reading Matthew: these traditions developed over centuries and contain wide variety between them and even within a single tradition. The major text types are built upon the manuscript evidence for the New Testament. Of the more than 5000 extant manuscripts with New Testament material, some 2388 contain material from the gospels. Only about 45 of these are papyri – the oldest level of manuscript, dating from the 2nd to the 7th century ce. Of these, between 20 and 30 contain some portion of the Gospel of Matthew. There is variation between these manuscripts and they are very fragmentary (most contain less than 20 verses, with the longest, from the 6th century, containing 6 chapters). This means we are not yet reading the Gospel of Matthew. The first full text of the Gospel of Matthew available to us is Sinaiticus, a codex manuscript (in book form) from around 350 ce.1 Here the Gospel of Matthew is part of a Bible that contains books that will come to compose the Old and New Testament, but it contains other books as well. When we read the Gospel of Matthew in the NA28 critical edition, we are reading, for the most part, the text of Sinaiticus and Vaticanus, the two major Bibles from the 4th century, and, in some portions of the Gospel of Matthew, Alexandrinus, from the 5th century ce. These texts are not the same, however, so a committee has decided which readings from these major, ancient texts should be printed in the modern critical editions.

1 Codex

Vaticanus is also from this period.

1.0 Back to Matthew: From NA28 to p64

63

We are not yet reading a text Matthew wrote, but we are probably as close as we can get. For portions of Mt 23–25, one could read a manuscript from around 200 ce, but important pieces of the story would be missing. When we read the text of Sinaiticus, we are standing at a distance of some 250 years from the writing of the Gospel of Matthew. We are reading a text that was likely published at the command of the emperor Constantine to supply a common Bible for some 50 churches. This Bible was likely a part of his plan to consolidate his power and to unify his empire through Christianity, which had just become a tolerated religion. These great Bibles were published after the Council of Nicea (325 ce), which, under the patronage of Constantine, had declared the orthodox doctrine that was to be taught in Christian churches. This is quite a distance from the time and place and context in which the Gospel of Matthew was written. One example can indicate the fragility of any attempt to recover Matthew and his intentions. The key to the text as we know it is the final commission in Mt 28.16–20. Here the followers of Jesus are commanded to take the teaching of Jesus into all the nations, and here is the first clear use in a gospel text of the tripartite formula that would be emphasized at Nicea and in other creeds. We do not have or know of any manuscript of the Gospel of Matthew prior to 350 ce that contains the Great Commission of Mt 28.16–20. We will need to return to look more closely at this. If we use the manuscript tradition to search for the Gospel of Matthew, it takes us from the critical edition of NA28 in the 21st century to Sinaiticus in the 4th century, then back to p64 from around 200 ce. A comparison of the major points on that journey is a study in contrast.2 This process is complex, but its basic procedure is clear. Any quest for the intent, design, and strategy of Matthew the author is done through reduction and exclusion. The English Bible is excluded, as are all other known versions besides Greek. The great bulk of the manuscript tradition is labeled as secondary to the ancient witnesses, and readings that disagree from some perceived norm are labeled as variants or corruptions or harmonizations. For the Gospel of Matthew, the 4th and 5th century codices set the standard. One can see, for example, that Matthew 26 in the 21st century NA28 is essentially the same as the text found in Codex Sinaiticus from the 4th century. All other forms have largely been eliminated (or consigned to the footnotes) and the text reduced mostly to the form of one manuscript. This is the text with which all New Testament scholars work when they treat Mt 26, and they usually do so without reference to other readings in the textual apparatus.

2  For the use of the image of Codex Sinaiticus I am grateful to the British Library Board (© British Library Board; folios 244 and 245). For the use of the image of p64 I am grateful to the President and Fellows of Magdalen College, Oxford.

64

Chapter Four: Beyond Matthew

Figure 4.1: Codex Sinaiticus (dated around 350 ce)

If one seeks to go behind Sinaiticus of the 4th century, then p64 takes us back to about 200 ce. But here we have only a few words from Mt 26. And how do we know that we are looking at Mt 26? This is presumed because Sinaiticus has these same words, and the words from Sinaiticus will later be labeled as Mt 26. In reality, the passage in p64 could be from a short collection for worship or memorization, it could be from an amulet, or it could be from another gospel. If this passage in p64 is Mt 26, how close does it take us to Matthew? From a temporal standpoint, this manuscript is probably some 100 to 110 years from the writing of the Gospel of Matthew. The geographical distance is likely that from Antioch in Syria to some place in Egypt, where the manuscript was purchased. In content, manuscript p64 gives us a few words, so it is hard to define Matthew’s style and vocabulary, much less his personality and intent. Here the trail grows cold. Having reduced the vast history of this tradition to one full manuscript in the 4th century that tells us what the gospel contains and

1.0 Back to Matthew: From NA28 to p64

65

one small fragment that pushes to within a century of its writing, scholars are then left to reconstruct what Matthew wrote from the text available. The text they actually employ to reconstruct Matthew and his design is NA28 , which is a 21st century eclectic text unlike any manuscript that existed in antiquity. None of this matches the claim of Papias that Matthew recorded the sayings of Jesus in Hebrew. There is obviously an issue here of complexity and accuracy. This is a part of the landscape for any reading of the Gospel of Matthew. For good or bad, any scholar or translator who wishes to engage the Gospel of Matthew must work with this process and with the resulting critical text. The greater problem, however, is that the history of the tradition has been used in a wholly utilitarian way: it provides a path in the quest to recover Matthew. The key to such an approach is reductionism – to peel back the layers of tradition to seek an original text in order to examine how and why it was penned by the author.

66

Chapter Four: Beyond Matthew

Figure 4.2: Front and back of the three fragments of P64 (dated around 200 ce)

In contrast to this quest and its reductionism, I wish to propose a different understanding of the goal. In doing so, I hope also to reclaim the value of the history of tradition for the Gospel of Matthew.

2.0 Traditions in Search of an Author If the goal of textual criticism is to reconstruct the original text and if the goal of interpretation is to uncover the designs of the evangelist, then the task is to move in a reductionistic way through the manuscript history. This quest for the original, authentic, authoritative text and for the design of its author is complex, but it is also problematic. I will suggest that this is the wrong goal, particularly for the Gospel of Matthew, and thus the wrong use of the history of the tradition. A look at the Tradition History of other literary works can shed light on this process.

2.0 Traditions in Search of an Author

67

2.1 Who wrote the Iliad? Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave soul did it send hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures, for so were the counsels of Jove fulfilled from the day on which the son of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles, first fell out with one another. (the opening lines of the Iliad)

Who wrote the the Iliad? Was it some soldier or victim of the conflicts between competing Greek alliances of the 13th century bce who combined memories of war with visions of how the gods and goddesses intruded into the fate of humans? Or was it the myriads of bards who told the story in Greek villages over the next centuries, adding local color and showcasing their own skills of memory and composition and rhetoric? Or was it the bards of the era of panhellenism who, in the centers of Greek culture and power, formed the local tales into a more standardized cycle? Or was it Homer, half-legend and mythmaker, who later penned the songs of Troy in a written meter constructed from several dialects of Greek? The composition and transmission of the Iliad is complex, but also exemplary. If there are historical events described in this story, they are likely to be found somewhere in the 12th or 13th century bce. Scholars now mostly agree the text was written down in the middle of the 8th century bce. While the story is often credited to Homer, its function far exceeds the influence of any author. On the one hand, the story is representative (and generative) of the values of being Greek. In the courage of the heroes, in the beauty of the women, in the pain of the conquered, the Greeks saw their own lives. In the warnings against pride and envy they heard their own lessons of virtue and morality. The story models the values of Greek culture, helping to create a type of panhellenic ideal. This tale is also seen as foundational for western thought and for western literature. Beyond this, in the hands of a skilled bard or poet, this sung tale would have been entertaining, and for some it would have economic value. Some would suggest that its power continues in the myriad textbooks and in the various performances of the story in modernity. Others would argue that something is lost in translation. There is, in the telling of this story, an invocation of something ancient, exotic, filled with wisdom and authority. In sum, for generations of ancient Greeks, the encounter with the Iliad was aural and iconographic, public, variant, resonant with vibrant local traditions and, in time, also panhellenic.   How those living oral traditions evolved into the paperback you hold in your hand has been the subject of much debate; so much so that it is usually referred to as the Homeric Question.3

3 http://academic.brooklyn.cuny.edu/classic/wilson/core/twstory.htm

68

Chapter Four: Beyond Matthew

A part of the appeal of the Iliad is based on its antiquity, its perceived authorship, and its exotic culture and language. This is exemplified in the invitation issued across the internet to attend a performance by a Yale classics professor and to “Hear Homer’s Iliad read in the original ancient Greek.”4 So, who wrote the Iliad? After reviewing the history of its composition and transmission, the question appears inappropriate. The Iliad is the product of a long and complex process, its composition is intimately linked with Greek identity and values, and this tale is still being shaped by the dynamics of a continuing process of transmission. The priority of this oral history of composition through performance is invoked in the opening lines of the written text: “Sing , O goddess …” 2.2 Who wrote Brer Rabbit? The Tar Baby Didn’t the fox never catch the rabbit, Uncle Remus? asked the little boy the next evening. He come mighty nigh it, honey, sho’s you born – Brer Fox did. One day atter Brer Rabbit fool ‘im wid dat calamus root, Brer Fox went ter wuk en got ‘im some tar, en mix it wid some turkentime, en fix up a contrapshun w’at he call a Tar-Baby, en he tuck dish yer Tar-Baby en he sot ‘er in de big road, en den he lay off in de bushes fer to see what de news wuz gwine ter be. En he didn’t hatter wait long, nudder, kaze bimeby here come Brer Rabbit pacin’ down de road – lippity-clippity, clippity‑lippity – dez ez sassy ez a jay-bird. Brer Fox, he lay low. Brer Rabbit come prancin’ ‘long twel he spy de Tar-Baby, en den he fotch up on his behime legs like he wuz ‘stonished. De Tar Baby, she sot dar, she did, en Brer Fox, he lay low. Mawnin’! sez Brer Rabbit, sezee – nice wedder dis mawnin’, sezee. Tar-Baby ain’t sayin’ nuthin’, en Brer Fox he lay low. How duz yo’ sym’tums seem ter segashuate? sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. Brer Fox, he wink his eye slow, en lay low, en de Tar-Baby, she ain’t sayin’ nuthin’. How you come on, den? Is you deaf? sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. Kaze if you is, I kin holler louder, sezee. Tar-Baby stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low. You er stuck up, dat’s w’at you is, says Brer Rabbit, sezee, ‘en I’m gwine ter kyore you, dat’s w’at I’m a gwine ter do, sezee. Brer Fox, he sorter chuckle in his stummick, he did, but Tar-Baby ain’t sayin’ nothin’. I’m gwine ter larn you how ter talk ter ‘spectubble folks ef hit’s de las’ ack, sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. Ef you don’t take off dat hat en tell me howdy, I’m gwine ter bus’ you wide open, sezee. Tar-Baby stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low. Brer Rabbit keep on axin’ ‘im, en de Tar-Baby, she keep on sayin’ nothin’, twel present’y Brer Rabbit draw back wid his fis’, he did, en blip he tuck ‘er side er de head. Right dar’s whar he broke his merlasses jug. His fis’ stuck, en he can’t pull loose. De tar hilt ‘im. But Tar-Baby, she stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low. 4  Stanley Lombardo is a University of Kansas classicist. The invitation is found at http:// www.openculture.com/2013/11/hear-homers-odyssey-read-in-the-original-ancient-greek.html

2.0 Traditions in Search of an Author

69

Ef you don’t lemme loose, I’ll knock you agin,’ sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, en wid dat he fotch ‘er a wipe wid de udder han’, en dat stuck. Tar-Baby, she ain’y sayin’ nuthin’, en Brer Fox, he lay low. Tu’n me loose, fo’ I kick de natal stuffin’ outen you,sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, but de Tar-Baby, she ain’t sayin’ nuthin’. She des hilt on, en de Brer Rabbit lose de use er his feet in de same way. Brer Fox, he lay low. Den Brer Rabbit squall out dat ef de Tar-Baby don’t tu’n ‘im loose he butt ‘er cranksided. En den he butted, en his head got stuck. Den Brer Fox, he sa’ntered fort’, lookin’ dez ez innercent ez wunner yo’ mammy’s mockin’-birds. Howdy, Brer Rabbit, sez Brer Fox, sezee. You look sorter stuck up dis mawnin’, sezee, en den he rolled on de groun’, en laft en laft twel he couldn’t laff no mo’. I speck you’ll take dinner wid me dis time, Brer Rabbit. I done laid in some calamus root, en I ain’t gwineter take no skuse, sez Brer Fox, sezee. Here Uncle Remus paused, and drew a two-pound yam out of the ashes. Did the fox eat the rabbit? asked the little boy to whom the story had been told. Dat’s all de fur de tale goes, replied the old man. He mout, an den agin he moutent. Some say Judge B’ar come ‘long en loosed ‘im – some say he didn’t. I hear Miss Sally callin’. You better run ‘long.

Who wrote Brer Rabbit? 5 To my mind as a child, it was Uncle Remus, the kind former slave and patriarch of the front porch who offered weekly tales to his little visitor. I learned later that it was Joel Chandler Harris (1845–1908) who authored the book of tales read by our teacher to her third grade class. When I heard, as a student worker in Zambia, of the exploits of Bambo Malulu,6 I knew that Uncle Remus was but a voice – and one of many voices at that – for the wisdom tales circulating among the people of Africa.

5 The account of the Tar Baby is cited from http://xroads.virginia.edu/~ug97/remus/tar-b​ a​b​y​.html 6  Here is the tale I heard in Africa. Why does the hippopotamus have no hair? At one time the hippo had a long and beautiful mane. In fact, it was the longest and the most beautiful of all the creatures of the forest. But the hippo was vain, and he thought that his beautiful mane made him superior to all of the other animals. One year there a cold and bitter winter and all of the animals were in danger of freezing to death. So they gathered all of the wood, built a great fire, and gathered around its warmth. Because it was so cold and there were so many animals, they could only put one paw into the warmth of the fire. Each animal would put one paw near the fire, then they would all switch and put the other paw near the fire. And so, by working together, each one stayed warm and each one survived. But the hippo saw things differently. When the hippo came near and saw the fire, he was so cold, and he wanted so much to be warm. The hippo ran through the crowd, pushing the other animals aside and took the best spot nearest to the fire. But then his mane caught on fire. As he ran to the river, the flames grew greater until at last he leaped into the river to put out the fire. But by that time, the flames had taken all of the hippo’s hair. When the hippo came out of the water, he was entirely naked, and all of other animals, who had gathered on the bank to watch, began to laugh and to mock the naked hippo. So the hippo slipped back into the water to hide his shame, leaving just his eyes and nose above the water. Even today, the hippo hides in the water, too embarrassed to let the other animals see the shame that was caused by his pride.

70

Chapter Four: Beyond Matthew

Such accounts from various parts of Africa make up a genre known as the trickster tale.7 Found in oral cultures worldwide, the trickster tale is a story featuring a protagonist (often an anthropomorphized animal) who has magical powers and is characterized as a compendium of opposites. Simultaneously an omniscient creator and an innocent fool, a malicious destroyer and a childlike prankster, the trickster-hero serves as a sort of folkloric scapegoat onto which are projected the fears, failures, and unattained ideals of the source culture.8

The trickster takes on varying roles and different levels of morality across these traditions, and the trickster is represented by a host of different animals. In North America the Coyote is the trickster in many Native American traditions (California, Plateau, Plains). The Raven, the Mink, or the Blue Jay are prominent among Northwest Coast tribes, while the Spider plays a central part in many Southwest tribes. Among native tribes of the Northeast and the Southeast, the Hare or Rabbit is central to the stories.9 A similar variety of roles and representatives is found in African forms of the trickster story. Tales from West Africa tell of the Spider or the Tortoise. Among some groups, the trickster is a human. In North Africa, East Africa, and Southern Africa, the trickster is often the Hare.10 The African and Native American tales seem to have combined in colonial times to produce the Brer Rabbit tales. The influence of both traditions can be seen, but it is also clear that a new form emerges in the American context before the Civil War. The Brer Rabbit tales share many features of traditional African trickster stories: the trickster is an underdog, smaller in stature and strength than his opponents (thus gaining the audience’s sympathy) but much cleverer and always well in control of the situation. However, African trickster tales usually centre upon a particular victim, such as Hyena, Lion, or Elephant, while Brer Rabbit tales, like their Native American counterparts, tend to revisit the same cast of characters repeatedly. In African tales the trickster’s prey is usually earnest, hardworking, and slow-witted and soon yields to the smooth arguments and attractive promises of his opponent; in contrast, it is usually Brer Rabbit’s opponents who instigate conflict, forcing him to rely upon his charm, speed, diminutive size, and guile – characteristics that save him from trouble in some cases only to ensnare him in difficulty in others.11

We return to the question first posed: who wrote Brer Rabbit? In light of the development of this tradition across various cultures, lands, and eras, the question  7 See the description of the “trickster tale” in the Encyclopaedia Britannica. Encyclopaedia Britannica Online Academic Edition. Encyclopædia Britannica Inc., 2014. Web. 09 Feb. 2014. See also the entry entitled “Bre’er Rabbit” in Wikepedia: the Free Encyclopedia.  8 Encyclopedia Britannica, “trickster tale.”  9  Encyclopedia Britannica, “trickster tale.” 10  Encyclopedia Britannica, “trickster tale.” 11 Encyclopedia Britannica, “trickster tale.”

2.0 Traditions in Search of an Author

71

itself becomes misleading. We could more appropriately ask who is responsible for the Brer Rabbit tales. Was it my third grade teacher reading and performing the illustrated version of the book? Or was it Joel Chandler Harris, who produced that version? Or was it Walt Disney, who brought the tales to screen? Should we credit the Cherokee, who produced the first written account (1845) in the form of the Tar Baby story? Or was it Robert Roosevelt, who published accounts before Harris did? Was it Alcée Fortier, who, about the same time as Harris, produced the stories in Cajun French in Louisiana? Or was it Enid Blythe, who brought the tales to the British children? Any of those answers would, of course, represent a colonialist perspective. Perhaps we should credit them to the kind Uncle Remus, but he is a constructed figure who stands in for a host of storytellers. Perhaps we should credit his ancestors and his kin from Africa who wove the tells into their history of struggle and suffering and triumph. But the Native American contribution has reshaped these tales through their characterization of the trickster. Some have suggested the tales are racist and should be brought to an end. So who wrote Brer Rabbit? The answer is complex and wide-ranging, and the discussion will continue. One thing, however, is very clear: to suggest that these tales are the production and property of a single author whose name we know is the least useful and least accurate answer. To make them the product of Joel Chandler Harris’ mind and to give him authority over their production and transmission – as many do – would be unthinking and unthinkable. More importantly, to consign these tales to Harris would be to ignore the rich and colorful history of their development. To assign these tales to any author would violate their core identify and function. The complexity of their composition and the chaotic history of their transmission is an essential part of their definition and identity and function. So also is the pleasure of hearing a tale well told. 2.3 Who wrote Satan in Goray? A young Polish writer named Yitskhok Zynger, in the days leading up to the Holocaust, sought to capture in writing the life he knew as a boy. He drew on his early memories of the streets of Warsaw in “a neighborhood full of thieves, prostitutes, street vendors, ragpickers, and observant Jews.”12 He also drew upon his years as a teenager in an isolated Jewish village that was “steeped in the folklore, superstitions, and uncompromising religious observances of a community virtually untouched by modernity.”13 There he learned the religious teachings of the rabbis, and he imbibed in the world of Jewish folktales, a world inhabited by imps and demons, devils and ghosts and spirits of various persuasions and powers. He brought these images together to confront the growing threat of  See the discussion found at http://singer100.loa.org/life/3/. at http://singer100.loa.org/life/3/.

12

13 Discussed

72

Chapter Four: Beyond Matthew

the Nazis, but he did so by narrating, in Yiddish, the evil that had annihilated a Jewish village in 1648 and the messianic hysteria that followed in its wake. In order to honor his mother, but also to distinguish himself from his more famous brother, he published these works under the name of Yitskhok Bashevis. Trained for a time in the Talmud but also interested in mystical Judaism (Kabbala), he drew upon the power of Hebraic nuance and Yiddish inflection to locate his characters in their world. This young writer’s work caught the attention of Saul Bellow, who translated a piece and sponsored its publication. When this 1935 Yiddish work was published in English in 1955, it appeared as Satan in Goray by Isaac Bashevis Singer. Some saw Singer’s work as the last vestige of the Yiddish literary tradition, even though a dozen or so others were publishing. Some saw in Singer’s work a weak, anglicized, sexualized rendition of a powerful literary tradition. Others have seen Singer’s English publications as a tradition separate from his Yiddish works. Khayke Beruriah Wiegand argues that the translations are a type of betrayal of the Yiddish works. She contends that Bashevis knew how to draw out the nuances of Hebrew and Yiddish, but was weak in his English. Thus, he went through a series of translators. She notes that Singer cut out a great deal of material, and she sees a process of sanitizing the works for an American audience, but also for the American market. Wiegand distinguishes between “the Yiddish Bashevis” and “his American construct I. B. Singer,” and she calls his English work a betrayal.14 Singer did in fact, read and translate, then allow the copyist to correct grammar and style. It is noteworthy that Singer did not have a number of his works translated, and he shifted his focus to more contemporary concerns. Critics are divided over this question.15 Singer himself addressed it in his lifetime, referring to his English translations as “second originals.” 14 Wiegand’s work was presented in a paper entitled “The Yiddish Bashevis and His American Construct I. B. Singer: Questions of Language, Register, Translation and Betrayal.” I am grateful for her permission to use this material. 15 Critic Cynthia Ozik observes: “I wish it were possible to list every translator’s name, from Saul Bellow, Isaac Rosenfeld, Dorothea Straus, Joseph Singer and Mirra Ginsburg to the less renowned Ruth Schachner Finkel, Evelyn Torton Beck, Laurie Colwin, Herbert Lottman, Rosanna Gerber, Elizabeth Schub and all the rest. It is interesting that there are so many, and that there are always new ones. Singer has not yet found his Scott Moncrieff. Still, the voice is steady and consistent, as if there were only one voice; undoubtedly it is the imposition of Singer’s own. After all these years, the scandalous rumors about Singer’s relation to his changing translators do not abate; how they are half collaborators, half serfs, how they start out sunk in homage, accept paltry fees, and end disgruntled or bemused, yet transformed, having looked on Singer plain. One wishes Singer would write their frenzied tale, set it in Zamosc and call it ‘’Rabbi Bashevis’s Helpers.’’ In any event, his helpers cannot reach the deep mine and wine of Singer’s mother tongue, thronged (so it was once explained to me by a Tel Aviv poet accomplished in Hebrew, Yiddish and English) with that unrenderable Hebrew erudition and burnished complexity of which we readers in English have not an inkling, and are permanently

2.0 Traditions in Search of an Author

73

What is the name of this masterpiece that eventually led to a Nobel Prize – is it the Yiddish title or is it Satan in Goray? Who should be credited with authorship of this story – the Yiddish Bashevis or the American I. B. Singer? When was it written – in 1935 or in 1955? Where was it written – in Poland or in the United States? And which text is the original? To what degree are both to be seen as a retelling ancient folklore? How should we describe the reception history? And how are we to interpret this tale? The question endured throughout Singer’s career, but it has taken a new twist in recent days. In an article entitled “I. B. Singer Works Are Incarcerated In Yiddish Texas,” Ron Rosenbaum makes a plea to the University of Texas to allow translation and publication of three Yiddish works from Singer’s papers.16 The debate includes the question of whether Singer wanted this graphic material translated, but also the question of who else but Singer could do the job? This is not simply a question of authorship. These works speak of a culture and a religion threatened with annihilation, and they invoke the question of who should speak for the survivors of such an era and who can and should speak of the way forward. Singer’s works convey multiple layers of conflict. He is driven by the loss of Jewish culture as he knew it in his homeland of Poland. He addressed the suffering and loss endured in the first half of the 20th century by revisiting the catastrophe of the 1600s. A third level of conflict is found in his descriptions of how Jewish survivors come to terms not only with the Holocaust, but with the modern world. For Singer, this conflict is also embedded within his characters. They often reflect the moral grip of some form of Jewish heritage, but his characters possess deeply divided personalities: even his heroes are torn between the person they are and the person they want to be. This conflicted nature of Singer’s work is also evidenced in the two very different streams of literature published in two languages and under two names. Singer’s personal life was equally conflicted. He, like his writings, was a work in process. 2.4 Who wrote the Books of Moses? Who wrote the five books of Moses? The traditional view that Moses is the author of the first five books of the Hebrew Bible is confirmed in 2 Chronicles 30.16 and, by Jesus himself, in Luke 24.44. This tradition persists, despite the narration of the death of Moses at the conclusion of Deuteronomy. deprived. Deprived? Perhaps. ‘The Collected Stories,’ when all is said and done, is an American master’s ‘Book of Creation.’” Ozik’s review appeared in the New York Times on March 21, 1982. 16  See http://observer.com/2003/03/10/ib-singer-works-are-incarcerated-in-yiddish-texas/​ #ixzz2wRInF6lo, March 10, 2003.

74

Chapter Four: Beyond Matthew

In reality, the composition and transmission of the Pentateuch are much more complicated.17 Scholars believe the Old Epic literature contained two strands of the story of Israel, designated by the letters J and E because of the way each refers to God (J for Jahweh and E for ‘elohim). During the Babylonian Exile (597–538 bce), the old Israelite epic was eventually edited by Priestly groups (P) who placed the whole of the Torah under the framework of God’s everlasting convenants with Israel. To this was added the materials found in Deuteronomy (D). Thus, the Pentateuch is constructed around various interests, across a geography that stretches from Babylon to Jerusalem, and across a time period from Moses (c. 1250) to the return from Babylonian exile (538 bce). The text itself has been shaped so that Israel’s earliest stories (creation, covenant, Exodus) address the various trials of later generations. While the Pentateuch has Moses as one of its central characters, its primary focus is the ongoing relationship between God and the nation of Israel. Only in the last centuries bce does the Pentateuch become united with the prophets and the writings in the process of creating a standardized canon. This process of composition and this history of transmission are not simply anecdotal. They are key elements of the identity and function of the Pentateuch. 2.5 Who wrote Isaiah? Who wrote the book of Isaiah in the Hebrew Bible? As a historical figure, Isaiah likely addressed his prophesies to the southern kingdom of Judah from 742 to 701 bce.18 This time of crisis experienced the annexation of the Northern Kingdom into the Assyrian Empire and saw Judah under threat. Chapters 1–39 of Isaiah address this period, though some later events have been inserted. The remainder of the book (chapters 40–66) comes from the Persian period and the reign of Cyrus (539 ce). Indeed, Cyrus is celebrated as “God’s anointed” (messiah) because he sends Israel home from captivity (Isa 44.28; 45.1). Within this later section, two distinct units can be seen. The first section is Isaiah 44–55, (which itself contains two parts, 40–48; 49–55). This unit, usually labeled as Second Isaiah, rejoices in the return from exile, which it sees as a sign of God’s work in history; it celebrates the work of God in creation; and it envisions a new creation. A unique part of this material is the Servant Songs, found in Isaiah 42.1–4; 49.1–6; 50.4–11; 52.13–53.12. This Servant, likely representing Israel, will, through patience and suffering, bring God’s instruction and God’s justice to Israel, and he will be a light to the nations.

17 See the article by Bernhard W. Anderson entitled “The Pentateuch” in The New Oxford Annotated Bible, NRSV (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), pp. xxxv–xxxvi. 18  See the introductory article by Victor Gold entitled “The Book of Isaiah” in The New Oxford Annotated Bible, NRSV (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), p. 866.

2.0 Traditions in Search of an Author

75

The third unit of Isaiah (chapters 56–66) is also composed of two parts (chapters 56–59; 63–66 as one component, then chapters 60–62). Known as Third Isaiah, this unit transitions from the joy of return and the eschatological hope to a more sober concern for life in the restored community. Here the Servant motif is missing, and there is a growing awareness of cultic issues. Thus, the book of Isaiah is composed of three distinct literary units that traverse geographically from Babylon and Persia to Jerusalem and temporally from perhaps 742 bce to 500 bce. These units treat the two periods of exile from three distinct perspectives: anticipation, celebration, and recovery. Once the book of Isaiah and other prophetic works are linked to the Pentateuch and to the writings, they are drawn into the process of forming a standardized canon for the Hebrew Bible, perhaps in the last centuries before the common era. The book of Isaiah becomes a favorite at Qumran, where it is found in various forms. It is also popular among early followers of Jesus, and they see in it prophecies of his life and death. Indeed, much of the story of Jesus’ death is written with echoes of the Servant Songs from Isaiah. This excludes Isaiah as the author of this book; at best he may have shaped the first section, but more complex answers are required for the larger work. More importantly, this extraordinary compositional process and this complex history of transmission are key components of the identity and the function of this book. It is the way in which this tradition addresses the changing experience of Israel. 2.6 Who wrote the letters of Paul? Who wrote the letters of Paul in the New Testament? The answer is more complex than it first appears. Almost all New Testament scholars would agree that a core of the Pauline corpus is authentic: 1 Thessalonians, 1 Corinthians, Romans, Galatians, Philippians, Philemon. Letters written in the name of Paul would include Ephesians, Colossians, 2 Thessalonians, and the Pastoral Epistles (1,2 Timothy, Titus). The book of 2 Corinthians is a composite letter, mostly from authentic material. Could we then divide the Pauline corpus into the letters Paul wrote and the ones he did not? That will not work either. Paul probably penned none of the letters. Even in the authentic letters, Paul sometimes mentions a co-worker who is also sending the letter. Tertius is named as the writer of Romans (Rom 16.22). Paul confirms that he did not write Galatians when he notes that he has signed it in his own handwriting (Gal 6.11). A similar note is found in 1 Corinthians 16.21 and is imitated in 2 Thessalonians 3.17. Thus, the authentic letters are produced through some type of collaboration or dictation, then sent in the name and authority of Paul. Furthermore, the material in 2 Corinthians is authentic, but it has been constructed, likely after Paul’s death, from several letters and refers to

76

Chapter Four: Beyond Matthew

a chain of correspondence. The remainder of the Pauline corpus is likely written, after the death of Paul, in his name and in his spirit. Moving beyond the canon, a number of letters (Laodicea, 3rd Corinthians) claim to be from Paul. In some sense they are, since they appropriate large units of authentic material from the New Testament letters. The letter to the Romans is not really a letter. It is an extended introduction of Paul and his theology to a group of Christians Paul has (mostly) not met. He hopes to convince them of his integrity and of his continuing support for the cause of Israel, then to gain their support for his work in Spain. Framed in epistolary form, Romans is really a theological introduction of Paul and his work. Moreover, the Pauline corpus comes into existence only when early Christians gather the writings of Paul and likely bind them in a separate codex for circulation among the churches. Only later will that collection be united with other works to form copies of what will be known as the New Testament. This complicated development is not simply about authorship, nor does it solve the question of authenticity and authority. This complex history of composition and transmission has key implications for the identity of this material and for the role it plays in Christian thought and practice.

3.0 Conclusion Through much of its history the Gospel of Matthew has been seen as a direct account of the teachings of Jesus. Under the influence of the Renaissance and the Enlightenment, scholars came to understand that the Gospel of Matthew employed sources that had already been edited and already contained their own interpretation of the teachings of Jesus. As critical scholarship developed, the Gospel of Matthew came to be seen as a carefully crafted text that sought to present the story and teaching of Jesus to a community in crisis in the years following the destruction of Jerusalem (70 ce). Throughout the various methods and approaches of critical scholarship, the evangelist Matthew has been seen as the primary key to how this gospel was constructed and to how it addressed a community in crisis. Interpreters of the New Testament saw textual criticism as an ally in their quest. For most of its history, the field of textual criticism defined its goal as recovery of the original text, and it valued manuscripts by their approximation to this foundational text. In this way, textual critics and New Testament exegetes tended to see their work as complementary, but separate. The interpreter began where the text critic finished – with the text nearest the original. If the original were found or even reconstructed, the work of text criticism, as currently defined by most, would cease. Until then, both text critic and exegete tend to work with the best available text as if it were the original. The reconstructed text is taken

3.0 Conclusion

77

to be a type of Textus Receptus – a received text that provides an authoritative standard or norm. This chapter followed the trail from the most recent critical edition of the Greek New Testament to the most valued manuscripts. It is clear that reducing the manuscript tradition to its oldest and most valued layers does not produce the original text of the Gospel of Matthew, nor does it bring one within a century of the time of writing. More importantly, this reductionistic approach tends to devalue and to ignore the role of the Tradition History for this gospel. Recent scholarship tends to devalue not only the history of the subsequent manuscript tradition, but also the distinct history of the traditions that existed prior to the Gospel of Matthew and contributed to its formation. A survey of other traditions, including three from the Bible, demonstrates the futility of such an approach for many texts and traditions. More significantly, these works demonstrate the value of Tradition History. For each of these works, the history of composition and transmission provides a key component of their identity and function. In these works the Tradition History is not anecdote, corollary, or commentary; it is essential. Some texts have authors and a clear genealogy of transmission. Other texts do not, either for historical reasons or, perhaps, by design. I will argue that the Gospel of Matthew is one of those texts that is best understood as a work in process – as a Living Tradition. I will also argue that this situation is not accidental or anecdotal; it is a part of the identity and function of this gospel. The choice to value the Tradition History of a literary work above the quest for its author requires a fundamental realignment in approach. The following chapter investigates the components and the dynamics at work in the Tradition History of a literary piece. It does so in order to consider new ways to approach the Gospel of Matthew.

Chapter Five

Revaluing the History of the Tradition In Biblical studies, textual critics have sought to establish a form of the text as close as possible to the original, and exegetes have read these texts with a primary concern for the intent and design of the author. The complexity, and sometimes futility, of this task is inevitable and unavoidable. This approach has also been hindered by some of its interpretive choices: it tends to treat the reconstructed text as if it were the original and to assign it an exclusive authority. A similar danger is found in efforts to isolate authorial intent and design. The quest for an authoritative foundational text thus suffers from two casualties. First, it is incomplete and, despite its posturing, stands at some distance from the ground it seeks. More importantly, this approach tends to devalue and to ignore the Tradition History of the texts it seeks to interpret. This chapter investigates, from a larger framework, the way in which texts and traditions interact to create a Tradition History. The insights from this analysis may then be applied to the Gospel of Matthew. We begin with definitions and a taxonomy in order to highlight the components and the dynamics involved in literary works. We will also consider how these components and processes have been treated (or ignored) in Biblical studies. David Parker has offered a new vision of the task and scope of textual criticism in relation to the New Testament. He has done so while giving particular attention to two New Testament manuscripts – Sinaiticus and Bezae.1 Parker has focused his work primarily around the manuscript tradition, but his approach holds great potential as well for the task of exegesis.

1  Parker published The Living text of the Gospels in 1997, then An Introduction to the New Testament Manuscripts and their Texts (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008). Parker published his Oxford Lyell Lectures (2011) as Textual Scholarship and the Making of the New Testament (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). Parker played a leading role in the electronic publication of the full text of Codex Sinaiticus (www.sinaiticus.org), and he published a description in Sinaiticus: The Story of the World’s Oldest Bible (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2010). His work on the Bezae text is found in Codex Bezae. An Early Christian Manuscript and Its Text (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992).

1.0 The Tradition (Work)

79

1.0 The Tradition (Work) While textual critics and exegetes typically focus on specific passages and mansucripts, the larger literary work deserves attention. Parker defines the work as a “single form of text distilled from all the varied forms in which it is known.”2 For most readers, the work is found in a printed edition of the text, usually in the reader’s own language. In this study, the work is the Gospel of Matthew. Readers of this gospel who switch from one version to another or from one language to another perceive that they are still reading the same work. While the work can be read only as a single form of the text, no single form of the text is an exclusive exemplar of the work – a work like the Gospel of Matthew is contained in other texts and forms. In the place of Parker’s term work, I will typically refer to the Tradition – to the product that is composed from all the texts and traditions within its history. Thus, the Gospel of Matthew is a Tradition that is known through various texts, but also in various other formats, and it is the sum product of all of its history of production. This Tradition can be exemplified, but not captured, in a single text of the Gospel of Matthew. At some points I will need to distinguish this understanding from my use of the term traditions3 to refer to smaller units of material that are sometimes collected and sometimes incorporated into other works. The Gospel of Matthew, with its long history of use and development, is the work or the Tradition in view here. This work or Tradition incorporates within itself various other traditions. Problems arise when readers and scholars make a one-to-one identification between a text and the work or Tradition, then treat the text as the complete delineation of that Tradition. Such an approach allows for definition and delineation so that one can study or perform the work, but it tends to bracket out the larger dimensions of the Tradition. Such delineation also serves to assign authenticity and authority.4 Such delineations and declarations may be true, but they are not all the truth. They are the Tradition, but they do not contain all of the Tradition. To perform the work is not to be equated with capturing the work. The Gospel of Matthew may be the most complex and most used of all Traditions. It is invoked across the globe on every Sunday in every church by every Christian who voices the Lord’s Prayer or cites a Beatitude. While this Tradition can be voiced in the words of child, its history of composition and transmission is perhaps the most complex of any Tradition.5 For those who labor on its manu Parker, Textual Scholarship and the Making of the New Testament, p. 11.  This is the way the term has been used in Form Criticism within New Testament studies. 4 Thus, after the reading of a Gospel passage, a minister may proclaim, “This is the word of the Lord.” 5  Its nearest rivals might be the Ten Commandments or the Shema Israel or the One God confession of Islam. 2 3

80

Chapter Five: Revaluing the History of the Tradition

scripts, texts, traditions, and history, it is important to do so in the larger context of the work or Tradition.

2.0 The Text While scholars speak in diverse and general ways of the text, closer definition is needed. Parker defines the text as “the form in which the work appears in each manuscript.”6 While the term text typically invokes the image of writing, the most recent generation knows the text as an electronic message and has turned the term into a verb – ”text me”. Some would refer to the text of a hymn as a way to distinguish the words from the music, making no specific reference to written materials. For the most part, however, the text is written. While text critics of the New Testament typically study manuscripts – texts written by hand – printed texts are also a part of the Tradition. There are many forms and types of text for the Gospel of Matthew. The interest here is primarily in written accounts that contain the Gospel of Matthew. For New Testament scholars, the text of the Gospel of Matthew is found in the most recent edition (28th) of the Nestle-Aland Novum Testamentum Graece. Scholars tend to look (inappropriately) upon this text in the same way that some Christians connect to the King James Bible – as a received text with an exclusive authenticity and authority. Problems arise when readers or scholars identify what they are reading as the only text and conflate the specific text with the larger Tradition. In critical scholarship this is done when scholars treat NA28 as the first and final text and speak as if it encompasses the whole of the Gospel of Matthew. We will recognize quickly that the Nestle-Aland New Testament text is now in its 28th edition, with nearly as many different renditions of the text. No scholar imagines this will be the last edition, for there is more to be known from the manuscripts already housed in libraries and monasteries and colleges. Despite this, scholars often make definitive claims about the text and about the Gospel of Matthew based on their work with this single edition.7 I will push for a wider understanding of the Text as an expression, in one manuscript or print, of the Tradition we know as the Gospel of Matthew.

 Parker, Textual Scholarship and the Making of the New Testament, p. 11.  See for example, the way scholars count words and describe Matthew’s special vocabulary and style. 6 7

4.0 The Performances

81

3.0 The Scripts and the Manuscripts While the Gospel of Matthew is found in a variety of formats, it is typically found in written form, or in some variation of writing. Parker refers to this as the document, which he defines as “the manuscript in which the text is found.”8 Parker is a text critic and manuscripts are the material focus of his work, but a broader term may be needed. Technically, manuscripts are documents written by hand, though the term is used in a variety of ways. The Gospel of Matthew also is expressed in printed texts, in electronic formats that mimic print, in musical scores, in opera. These are perhaps accurately described as documents, but they are technically not manuscripts. I will prefer the term Script for two reasons. First, it opens itself to a variety of formats, but still invokes the image of writing. Secondly, a script usually presumes some correlated Performance – a term I will also employ.9 The Gospel of Matthew has been inscripted or documented in a variety of formats. For this analysis, primary focus will be given to the manuscripts and to the various ways in which they articulate the Gospel of Matthew.

4.0 The Performances I will also speak of Performance, a term borrowed from the field of literary criticism. Within literary studies, this term is sometimes used to speak of variation upon a norm – a performantial variation. I am using the term with more dynamic and generative overtones: the Performance is an enactment of the Script. The most typical Performance of the Gospel of Matthew is to read the text. While this evokes the image of a scholar silently processing the words on a page, reading in antiquity was typically an oral performance. Texts were designed to be read to audiences. The Iliad, for example, was sung and acted out by bards for centuries before it was written down. When it was recorded, it was written in meter (Dactylic hexameter) and intended for oral performance. It is also likely that ancient readers read aloud, even when alone. The early manuscripts of the New Testament had no chapters and verses, no spaces between the words, no accents or breathing marks. Moreover, from the earliest stages, manuscripts of the New Testament employed abbreviations, particularly of sacred names or terms (sacra noma). These appeared in the text as one or two letters with a short line above them. This presumes the reader will make sense of the text by creating oral space between words, by the rise and fall of the voice, by emphasis on certain terms  Parker, Textual Scholarship and the Making of the New Testament, p. 11. concept can be illustrated in 1 Timothy 4.13. The letter urges Timothy to practice (πρόεχε) a threefold ministry: reading (ἀναγνώσει), encouragement, (παρακλήσει), teaching (διδασκαλίᾳ). Here the scripture is a script that is expressed through performance: it is read aloud, then used for exhortation and instruction. 8

9 This

82

Chapter Five: Revaluing the History of the Tradition

and phrases, and by unpacking the abbreviations. Ancient manuscripts appear to be Scripts designed to support the Performance of the text, whether in public or private. Beyond reading, ancient texts were performed in other ways. That is perhaps why the term εὐαγγέλιον was used to refer to the written manuscripts of the story of Jesus, but also to the preached message about Jesus – one could use the gospels to preach the gospel. Further down the way, the church would develop the lectionary – a book in which New Testament texts were selected for thematic use and surrounded by commentary. The lectionary served as a Script for leading worship. The Gospel of Matthew has been inscripted in manuscript form, but also in lectionaries, in music, and even amulets. Each manuscript of the Gospel of Matthew differs in some way from all other manuscripts. In this study we will consider the manuscripts, by definition, as documents that inscript the text of the Gospel of Matthew. They also serve, however, in Performance of the text. Each manuscript is, in some sense, a new Performance of the text. That is one of the reasons why manuscripts became increasingly more elaborate and individualized, with leather pages, gilded bindings, and illuminated texts. Performances are not simple enactments of a Script and they are not simply replication of the text; they also play a generative role.10 Manuscripts sponsor a variety of Performances of the text – reading, preaching, teaching, music. History shows that manuscripts also tend to sponsor more manuscripts. The Gospel of Matthew was copied from one manuscript to another, but not without changes and developments. Manuscripts were corrected and altered through reference to other manuscripts. Performances were shaped and reshaped through references to manuscripts. New forms of manuscripts emerged. All of this activity testifies to the generative quality of performance. The Performance of the Text based on a specific Script provides the creative impetus for the continued life of the Tradition – both its transmission and its transformation.11

5.0 Genre, Text, and Canon The Gospel of Matthew is also a part of the canon, and this is important for the way it is perceived and the way it functions. The word canon refers to a mea10  Homer’s rendition of the Iliad and the Odyssey generated a new form of the Greek language that came to be known as Homeric Greek and was used primarily for epics. 11  I suggested that the Gospel of Mark was produced through a cycle of script and performance. When teachers went out to perform the traditions about Jesus, they came back with new insight, refined rhetoric, and sometimes with new content for the teaching material. This could then be inscripted and serve as the basis for further performance. This seems to me to be a more plausible way of editing than the modern version of the scholar sitting at a desk surrounded by books. This suggestion is found in Broadhead, Teaching with Authority.

6.0 Tradition History

83

suring stick, and the term came to be used of official lists of books contained in the Bible. The first definitive description of the New Testament canon was by Athanasius in 367 ce. In his Easter letter of that year Athanasius listed, for the churches under his authority, the 27 books that Christians should read. Though other lists were offered, the list of 27 became definitive for the New Testament canon. While the individual works were in circulation and the gospels were perhaps already being packaged as four, it was the canon list that created the New Testament.12 The Gospel of Matthew was favored in early Christianity, and it was later given first place in the canon. At some point this story of Jesus began to be called a gospel, then it was distinguished in some way, through connection to Matthew, from other such works.13 Eventually the Gospel of Matthew was grouped with three other Gospels, and this collection sometimes appears in the manuscripts as a bound unit. This placement among the four gospels and at the head of the New Testament canon is part of the history of the Gospel of Matthew, but it is also a key component of its identity. This new standing carries with it definition, status, and authority. The reader, in a liturgical setting, usual follows the reading of the Gospel of Matthew with a declaration that “this is the word of the Lord.” Such a status is theological, of course, but it is tied to a material base. The collection of four gospels and the canonization of 27 works could only occur (before the electronic age) in the format of a codex, that is, as a book. A key component of the identity and function of the Gospel of Matthew is its standing in the canon of the New Testament, but this status was dependent on the emerging technology.

6.0 Tradition History Form critics of the New Testament looked at the way in which smaller units of tradition functioned within the life of the early Christian communities. These scholars also observed the way in which these traditions were circulated, collected, and embedded within the gospels of the New Testament. In doing so, they spoke of a Traditionsgeschichte – a history or account of the development of these traditions. While I will use this terminology (tradition) when speaking of smaller units of early Christian material, I will also use the term (Tradition) as a type of metalanguage to speak of the full history of development and use of 12  This is a concept. We will know the full New Testament in the form described by Athanasius as a manuscript only from the time of 900–1000 ce, and then in only a very few exemplars. 13  Nowhere within the text does it call itself a gospel. The opening lines refer to a book, but it is not clear whether this means the entire work or simply the genealogy. The term gospel was added as a sort of title, and soon it was necessary to distinguish which gospel.

84

Chapter Five: Revaluing the History of the Tradition

the work that we know as the Gospel of Matthew. I will argue that the Tradition History of the Gospel of Matthew is not simply anecdotal or incident; it is an essential part of the identity and function of this gospel.

7.0 Conclusion The attempt to understand the Gospel of Matthew primarily through the eyes of its author is fraught with difficulty, but, more significantly, it treats the Tradition History in a utilitarian way through reductionism. The goal of reconstructing the original text and understanding the designs of its author has proven elusive and is often misdirected. Renewed attention to the history of development for the Gospel of Matthew may prove more fruitful, and it may open new ways of understanding this gospel. The Gospel of Matthew may be seen as work or a Tradition that incorporates the long and diverse history of its composition and use. This Tradition is accessible in the form of a Text, though no Text contains or proscribes all of the Tradition. The Text of the Gospel of Matthew is found in manuscripts – documents that serve as Scripts for the Performance of the Text. A key component of the Gospel of Matthew is its role in the four gospel package and its enshrinement in the canon of the New Testament. While these categories could be developed in more complex and ontological ways, this taxonomy provides tools for investigating the wider Tradition History of the Gospel of Matthew. This analysis is not only descriptive, however; its primary concern is for the identity and function of this gospel.

Chapter Six

Sources, Traditions, Tradents The Tradition History of the Gospel of Matthew has been mostly lost in the shadows of its author. This, to some extent, is a natural part of literary works. At some point even long developing traditions tend to be identified with authors, then to be interpreted in light of those individuals. Homer’s Iliad and the five books of Moses are examples of this tendency. For most interpreters, placing the text in the hands of an author creates a fixed point of reference and a new level of authority. Subsequent traditions of the work are often labeled as secondary or corrupt. Earlier oral traditions tend to be absorbed and disappear in the process of editing them. Even where prior traditions are recognized, there is the tendency to treat them as sources to be manipulated by the author. This is especially true with traditions found in written form. They tend to be seen as fixed entities, as resources lying on the desk of the author, waiting to be worked into the planned narrative. Matthew, the desk, and his written sources have been seen as the key to production. What exactly did Matthew have on his table when he composed the gospel? One wonders. Strewn upon his tabletop would no doubt have been a copy of some form of Mark, possibly another document or a collection of written traditions (Q), and papyri and other items upon which were inscribed bits of Jesus tradition, sayings, miracle stories, parables, etc. Additionally, he would have had scrolls of OT texts (e. g., MT, Aramaic, LXX or some other Greek translation of Isaiah, Jeremiah, Psalms, etc.) or, at the very least, testimony collections.1

It is not difficult to see here the shadow of the modern scholar, sitting at a desk, manipulating sources drawn from the shelf or borrowed from the library. It is also apparent that this view gives the interpreter a higher degree of certainty and control. My goal here is to move the question of authorship to the background and to bring to the foreground the history of tradition for the Gospel of Matthew. It is also my goal to move beyond the concept that traditions are stable, self-standing texts existing in isolation from their own history.

1 Richard C. Beaton, “How Matthew writes,” in The Written Gospel, ed. Markus Bockmuehl and Donald Hagner (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), p. 116. Beaton is fully aware of the power of traditions and the complexity of composition.

86

Chapter Six: Sources, Traditions, Tradents

This exploration of Tradition History includes the subsequent manuscript tradition, including the development of the text of this gospel and its enshrinement into the New Testament canon. I will also trace the development of the Gospel of Matthew along other, non-canonical trajectories. But Tradition History also includes the process by which existing materials – written and oral, fixed and fluid  – were reappropriated into a new narrative performance of the story of Jesus. This reusing of existing material is a key element in the construction of this gospel. My thesis is this: behind the shadow of Matthew the theologian and literary genius – the image of the author created in recent scholarship – stands a dynamic process through which this gospel was constructed. Composition history is thus the first stage of Tradition History. If one moves behind the mythical Matthew, other voices emerge, and these voices bear witness to the way ancient communities used their traditions to frame their identity and to claim their place on the map.

1.0 Sources employed in the Gospel of Matthew When scholars began looking for sources behind the gospels  – Source Criticism  – they did so in relation to the strategy of the author. They asked how the Sermon on the Mount, for example, came to Matthew and to what degree it still reflected the authentic teachings of Jesus. Source Criticism is, at the first level, a literary task, and its methodology would have been more appropriately framed by temporarily bracketing out the question of the historical Jesus and the historical Matthew. These historical concerns are not without value, but they are subsequent to the literary investigation. To give an example, one cannot accurately investigate the influence of the Priestly tradition on the Pentateuch if one does so only in reference to Mosaic authorship. A formalistic analysis of the Gospel of Matthew involves attention to the text as it now stands: to what it says and to how it does so. I have consistently treated the text of the gospels through formalistic analysis in order to bracket out the noise of other, non-literary, questions. At the same time, I seek to place each formal analysis within a history of tradition and within a historical context.2 A key dynamic in the composition history of the Gospel of Matthew is the way in which it employs existing traditions. After identifying those sources, I will give attention to the way in which they have been appropriated and to the consequences of this generative process.

2 This

is more fully developed in my work on the Gospel of Mark.

1.0 Sources employed in the Gospel of Matthew

87

1.1 The Gospel of Mark There was a growing recognition among scholars of the 19th century that the Gospel of Mark was the earliest of the gospels and that it was the primary resource for the writing of the Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of Luke.3 The dependence of the Gospel of Matthew on the Gospel of Mark is extraordinary. This can be framed in quantitative terms. The Gospel of Mark has some 661 verses and the Gospel of Matthew some 1068. The Gospel of Matthew uses some 600 (over 90 %) of the verses in the Gospel of Mark, and this borrowed material accounts for well over half (about 56 %) of the Gospel of Matthew. This borrowed material is generally compressed by one-third in length.4 This relationship can also be framed in structural terms. Beyond the statistical content, the Gospel of Matthew takes its general outline from the Gospel of Mark, as does the Gospel of Luke. This relationship is highlighted by the fact that the Gospel of Luke and the Gospel of Matthew both depart from the Markan outline on occasions, but almost never on the same occasion. Beyond this, the Gospel of Matthew, when it departs from the Gospel of Mark, generally returns to the Markan outline and continues forward. Davies and Allison dissect this usage of the Gospel of Mark. Mt 14:1 to the end of the gospel (14 chapters!) agrees in sequence with Mk 6:14–16:8. The first half of the Gospel of Matthew is also built upon the Gospel of Mark, but in a different way. In the material in Mt 1.1–13.58 there are five major transpositions from the Markan sequence. Davies and Allison believe the Mathean desire for triads, the topical collections, and stylistic patterns readily explain these transpositions.5 This relationship can also be framed in ideological terms. Key theological vocabulary, concepts, and patterns are taken over from the Gospel of Mark. Some of these are embraced within the Gospel of Matthew, some are realigned, and some are rejected. It is not unreasonable, then, to see the Gospel of Matthew as a revised edition of the Gospel of Mark.6 Once this pattern is established, it is appropriate to ask why and how this appropriation of previous material occurred and to consider the consequences for the Gospel of Matthew. In light of the extensive appropriation of the Gospel of Mark, it is also reasonable to ask what material was not incorporated and why.

3  Most scholars date the Gospel of Mark around the fall of the Jerusalem temple in 70 ce. The Gospel of Matthew is usually dated between 80–90 ce, as is the Gospel of Luke. 4 If the Gospel of Matthew is written on a scroll, the writer could survey the available material and adapt borrowed materials so that the whole narrative fit on a single scroll or on a limited number of scrolls. 5 Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, pp. 100–103. 6  For an overview of the passages and order taken from the Gospel of Mark, see the “Index of Gospel Parallels” in Synopsis of the Four Gospels, ed. Kurt Aland, 3rd edition (Münster: United Bible Societies, 1979), pp. 341–55.

88

Chapter Six: Sources, Traditions, Tradents

One could credit this work to an author, but one need not. First, one cannot presume that the author and the author’s intent is accessible to modern scholarship. For example, we do not know what the text of the Gospel of Mark available at the time of writing actually contained. More importantly, the strategic design of a text need not be overshadowed by concern for authorship. Neither does authenticity and authority reside solely, if at all, with an author. From a formal standpoint, the Gospel of Matthew is built upon the framework and the ideological world of the Gospel of Mark. This strategic design is a vital component in the composition history of the Gospel of Matthew, and I will also argue that it is essential to its identity and function. 1.2 The Sayings Tradition (Q) The second major resource for the Gospel of Matthew is a written collection of the sayings of Jesus. Some 235 of the 1068 verses in the Gospel of Matthew (22 %) may be attributed to this source. This material also has a structural and ideological impact on the Gospel of Matthew. This Sayings Tradition may be reconstructed in part by placing side by side the sayings of Jesus (and John the Baptist) that appear in both the Gospel of Luke and the Gospel of Matthew, but not in the Gospel of Mark.7 This “Double Tradition” forms the heart of what scholars have labeled as Q (probably from the German word for source: Quelle). The Lukan order is usually assumed to be closer to this source, and Lukan references are used to designate passages in the Sayings Tradition (the passage found in Mt 11:2–6 and Lk 7:18–23 is designated as Q 7:18–23). While the Sayings Tradition is identified and reconstructed on literary grounds,8 the tradition represents more than a literary source. Behind this collection of sayings stands a community for whom this tradition serves as the record of their commitment to the teachings of Jesus. The sayings of Jesus were remembered and collected in oral form, beginning among his first disciples, in the Aramaic dialect that Jesus spoke. The preservation and transmission of these sayings logically require a transition to a written document in the Greek language. One version of this written Greek collection of Jesus’ sayings (Qmt) serves as a key resource for the writing of the Gospel of Matthew. The importance of this resource can be seen in the following tables.9

7 See the content and order of Double Tradition in Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, pp. 116–18. 8  See the published text: The Critical Edition of Q, ed. James M. Robinson, Paul Hoffman, and John S. Kloppenborg (Leuven: Peeters, 2000). This reconstruction grows out of the International Q Project. 9  These charts are dependent on the work of Frans Nierynck in Q-Synopsis (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1988), pp. 3–4.

89

1.0 Sources employed in the Gospel of Matthew

The Double Tradition Passages in the Lukan Order Gospel of Matthew

Gospel of Luke

Gospel of Matthew

Gospel of Luke

3.7–12 4.1–11 5.1–12 5.39–42,44–48; 7.12 7.1–5; 10.24–25; 15.14 7.16–20; 12.33–35 7.21,24–27 7.28a; 8.5–10,13 11.2–6 11.7–11 11.16–19 8.19–22 9.37–38; 10.7–16 11.21–23 10.40 11.25–27; 13.16–17 6.9–13 7.7–11 12.22–30; 9.32–34 12.43–45 12.38–42 5.15 6.22–23 23.4,6–7,13,23,25–27,​ 29–32,34–36 10.26–33; 12.32; 10.19–20 6.25–33

3.7–9,16–17 4.1–13 6.20–26 6.27–36 6.37–42 6.43–45 6.46–49 7.1–10 7.18–23 7.24–28 7.31–35 9.57–62 10.2–12 10.13–15 10.16 10.21–24 11.2–4 11.9–13 11.14–20,23 11.24–26 11.16,29–32 11.33 11.34–35 11.39–52

6.19–21 24.43–51 10.34–36 16.2–3 5.25–26 13.31–33 7.13–14; 25.10–12; 7.22–23; 8.11–12; 20.16 23.37–39 12.11 23.12 22.2–10 10.37–38 5.13 18.12–14 6.24 11.12–13 5.18 5.32 18.7 18.15,21–22 17.20 24.26–28,37–41; 10.39

12.33–34 12.39–46 12.49–53 12.54–56 12.57–59 13.18–21 13.23–30

12.2–12

25.14–30 [26–30] 19.28

12.22–31

13.34–35 14.5 14.11; 18.14 14.16–24 14.26–27 14.34–35 15.4–7 16.13 16.16 16.17 16.18 17.1 17.3–4 17.6 17.23–24,26–30,​ 33–35,37 19.12–27 [22–27] 22.28–30

The Double Tradition in the Matthean Order Gospel of Matthew 3.7–12 4.1–11 5.1–12 5.13 5.15 5.18 5.25–26 5.32 5.39–42 5.44–48 6.9–13 6.19–21

8.5–10,13 8.11–12 8.19–22 9.32–34 9.37–38 10.7–16 10.19–20 10.24–25 10.26–33 10.34–36 10.37–38 10.39

Gospel of Matthew 12.43–45 13.16–17 13.31–33 15.14 16.2–3 17.20 18.7 18.12–14 18.15,21–22 19.28 20.16 22.2–10

6.22–23 6.24 6.25–33 7.1–5 7.7–11 7.12 7.13–14 7.16–20 7.21 7.22–23 7.24–27 7.28a

10.40 11.2–6 11.7–11 11.12–13 11.16–19 11.21–23 11.25–27 12.11 12.22–30 12.32 12.33–35 12.38–42

23.4 23.6–7 23.13 23.23,25–27 23.29–32,34–36 23.12 23.37–39 24.26–28,37–41 24.43–51 25.10–12 25.14–25 25.26–30

90

Chapter Six: Sources, Traditions, Tradents

The appropriation of this material into the Gospel of Matthew is important because of the large quantity of material employed. The impact is not only one of degree, but also of kind. To import the material of the Sayings Tradition is also to import its voice. The effect of this is not only additive, but also generative; the Sayings Tradition reshaped the Gospel of Matthew and, at the same time, is itself reshaped by this transaction. The appropriation of the Sayings Tradition is a key dynamic in the compositon history of the Gospel of Matthew, and, as we shall see later, a key element of its identity and function. 1.3 Special Traditions in the Orbit of the Gospel of Matthew (M) The Gospel of Mark and the Sayings Tradition account for some 78 % of the material in the Gospel of Matthew. This already calls into question the concept of authorship and intentional design, and attention to the remaining material reinforces this concern. A third major resource is the material that is used only in the Gospel of Matthew. Scholars identify these traditions by isolating passages that do not come from the Gospel of Mark and are not a part of the Double Tradition of sayings shared by the Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of Luke. What remains is mostly a group of materials unique to the Gospel of Matthew.10 This material can be divided into two types. There were stories and collections of stories that were a part of the tradition behind this gospel. Some may have been written, but they could just as easily be a part of the oral tradition. It is impossible to say whether this material included the testimony of living witnesses or consisted wholly of traditions passed from one generation to another. Alongside this material and often interacting with it is the redactional activity that is unique to this gospel.11 This material makes a significant contribution to the shape, content, and outlook of the Gospel of Matthew. Among the unique materials in the Gospel of Matthew are the infancy traditions, some of the passion narrative, and the closing scene of appearance and commission (28.16–20). In addition, the special materials may have contained a collection of ten parables not known elsewhere, perhaps a short sayings collection, and perhaps a collection used in debate against Pharisaic traditions.12 10  See the description and discussion of this material in Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, pp. 121–27. 11 Scholars typically refer to the special materials found in the Gospel of Matthew by the term M. Editorial changes and additions are usually labeled as redactional material. For our interests, M refers to the received traditions before they are edited into the Gospel of Matthew. Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, pp. 95–96, offer a list of what they consider “pure redaction” as opposed to the use of a source. They make the astute observation that the editor of this gospel “had to become a source.” (p. 96) 12 On these suggestions see Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, pp. 125–27.

1.0 Sources employed in the Gospel of Matthew

91

In the technical sense, the special material, or Sondergut, does not include redactional activity, but only those traditions that were received and employed only in the Gospel of Matthew. While it is a rather simple matter to identify material found only in this Gospel, separating redaction from tradition is more complex. No one has produced a reconstruction that convinces the majority of scholars, and this had led many commentators to abandon the idea.13 For our purposes, it would be enough to demonstrate that there is special tradition that has been taken up and incorporated within the Gospel of Matthew. If this material exhibits any structural or conceptual unity, it may be possible, in general ways, to speak of the tendencies of this line of tradition. Regardless of the degree to which one can reconstruct this material, any evidence that a special line of tradition has been appropriated is significant for the composition history. 1.3.1 Searching for the Special Tradition (M) The idea of a collection of special material (designated as M) found only in the Gospel of Matthew was given impetus in the work of B. H. Streeter, who saw this as an extensive source.14 He dated it to 60 ce and located it in Jerusalem. Since Streeter there is a growing awareness of the material generated through redactional activity in the Gospel of Matthew. Consequently, the few scholars willing to take on the issue typically describe a smaller, more diverse collection without assigning to it a time or place. The degree to which this material was in written or oral form remains an open question.15 I will offer two examples here, then suggest my own framework for M. 1.3.2 W. D. Davies and Dale Allison Davies and Allison are cautious about the existence and shape of M, but they offer a limited profile of the collection.16 They account for all but one passage (Mt 17.24–27) of the non-redactional special material through five categories: 1) the infancy stories (1.18–2.23) 2) the parables (13.24–30; 13.44–46; 13.47–50; 18.23–25; 20.1–16; 21.28–32; 22.1–14; 25.1–13; 25.14–30; 25.31–46) 13 So, for example, Luz, Matthew 1–7, pp. 48–49. Luz denies the existence of M as a written source, but he believes traditions like the infancy narrative came to Matthew in oral form. For my purposes, this means the infancy story is received tradition. 14 B. H. Streeter, The Four Gospels (London: McMillan, 1924). 15  Werner Kümmel, Introduction to the New Testament (London: SCM Press, 1975), p. 110 argues for an oral collection. 16 Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, pp. 121–27.

92

Chapter Six: Sources, Traditions, Tradents

3) isolated sayings (5.5; 5.7; 5.8; 5.9) 4) three sets of grouped sayings (5.21–24,27–28,33–37; 6.1–18; 23.1–3,5,7b–10,15–22) 5) passion and resurrection traditions (27.3–10,19,24–25,51b–53,62–66; 28.2–4,9–10,11–15)

They also suggest that behind Mt 6.1–18 and 23.1–22 there might be a “strongly anti-Pharisaic source which instructed Jewish Christians on the difference between themselves and unbelieving members of the synagogues.”17 Davies and Allison investigate this material as a source available to Matthew when he writes. They do little to pursue its Tradition History or to locate it in a historical context. 1.3.3 Stephenson Brooks Stephenson Brooks sought, in 1987, to isolate the special materials used solely within the Gospel of Matthew, to define groupings, and to locate these traditions within the social history of the gospel.18 Moving beyond source criticism, Brooks used three criteria to separate M sayings from the rest of the materials. 1. Comparison with the Gospel of Mark and the Gospel of Luke 2. Internal tensions such as form or conceptual inconsistencies 3. Differences in style and vocabulary 4. Content is examined to discover ideological discrepancies

Brooks isolates some nineteen sayings that he believed belonged to three major groupings. He leaves open the question of whether these were oral collections or whether they were already written. Brooks postulates that these groupings are traditions and that they reflect stages within the history of the community associated with the Gospel of Matthew. The first group of sayings was composed of four sayings: Mt 6.1–6,16–18 Mt 23.2–3,5 Mt 10.5b–6,23b

warning against the hypocrites (alms, prayer, fasting) warning against scribes and Pharisees (do what they say, not what they do) go to Israel only, you will not finish before the Son of Man comes

Brooks believes these sayings are the earliest part of M and that they represent a tradition coming from a Christian Jewish group. Members of this group still attend synagogue and carry on a mission to Jews within Palestine. Brooks isolates a second cluster composed of five sayings:  Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, p. 127.  Stephenson Brooks, Matthew’s Community: the evidence of his special sayings material (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1987). See especially pp. 115–23 and pp. 188–91. 17 18

1.0 Sources employed in the Gospel of Matthew

93

Mt 23.15 Woe to blind guides who make proselytes, then corrupt them Mt 23.16–22,24,33 Woe to blind guides who swear deceptively, who strain the gnat and gulp the camel Mt 5.23–24 (?) Warning to be reconciled before offering a gift at the altar Mt 6.7–8 Warning not to pray like the Gentiles Mt 7.6 Warning not to give holy things to dogs, not to cast pearls before swine

Brooks believes this second group of sayings represents an interim period of open debate with the synagogue. At the heart of this debate is the belief that Jesus provides the interpretation for Torah. The stage likely inaugurates a mission to the Gentiles. Brooks see a third group of sayings: Mt 5.19 Mt 5.21–22 Mt 5.27–28 Mt 5.33–35,37 Mt 23.8–10 Mt 12.36–37 Mt 18.18 Mt 18.19–20 Mt 19.12

Keeping the Law, greatness in the Kingdom of Heaven Antithesis on murder Antithesis on adultery Antithesis on oaths Call no one Rabbi or Father; you have one teacher On the day of judgment you will be judged by your words Binding and loosing on earth and in heaven Where two are agree, where two or three are gathered Eunuchs because of men, enuchs because of Kingdom of Heaven

Brooks argues that these sayings represent a tradition in which the Christian Jewish group becomes a Jewish Christian group: they leave the synagogue because of persecution. This community now organizes itself under the authority of Jesus and view him as an eschatological figure who defines the rules for the community. Brooks believes that Mt 5.36 (do not swear by your head) belongs to the M sayings, but he is unable to account for it in the Tradition History. Brooks argues that the final stage is the time of Matthew the evangelist. Heir to the continuous community history outlined above, Matthew composes a Gospel. The Gospel reflects an angle of vision on the life and ministry of Jesus and the formulation of his church, an angle influenced by the shared history of the community. The use of Mark’s Gospel and Q in Matthew may be partially understood as an assimilation of traditional material into the Matthean community’s history. Thus, Matthew attempts to make sense of the community’s history in terms of the traditions about Jesus.19

Brooks believes that Matthew handles this material deftly. Matthew’s own use of the M traditions shows an attitude that allows for a simultaneous preservation and reinterpretation of the tradition. In this way, Matthew’s handling of M sayings is continuous with the process of handing on tradition orally in his community, even though this continuity is to some extent interrupted by the fact of Matthew writing

19 Brooks,

Matthew’s Community, p. 122.

94

Chapter Six: Sources, Traditions, Tradents

down his tradition. … The form gives Matthew relative freedom in absorbing M sayings that might have been employed by others in contradiction to his own view.20

It should be noted that Brooks identifies all stages with Judaism. The first level involves Jewish followers of Jesus who maintain their ties to the synagogue and carry out a mission to Israel. A second stage involves open debate and initiation of a Gentile mission. Brooks identifies a later stage in which Christian Jews have become Jewish Christians. They are now Jews who stand over against the synagogue, practice Torah through the teachings of Jesus, and appear to implement a mission to the Gentiles. Brooks contends these traditions and their history have been gathered by the author Matthew into a narrative that both preserves and reinterprets them. 1.3.4 Reconstructing the Special Materials (M) When looking for special traditions in the Gospel of Matthew, scholars identify these traditions by isolating passages that do not come from the Gospel of Mark and are not a part of the Double Tradition of sayings shared by the Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of Luke. What remains is a collection of materials unique to the Gospel of Matthew.21 Some scholars reserve the term M for special traditions, but others also include redactional elements. To the degree that M may represent a distinct source separate from the work of the editor, this material is likely composite in nature: it represents a variety of traditions and may have been oral or written. At points the special traditions may have been edited to a degree that they are no longer distinguishable. It is very difficult to separate tradition and redaction in the special materials employed by the Gospel of Matthew. Nonetheless, this is an important question for the composition history of this gospel. Using a principle of dissimilarity, a minimal form of M may be isolated.22 To the extent that a special collection of M material may be distinguished, a few groupings emerge.23 These are: 1. Infancy stories (1.18–2.23) 2. Three groups of sayings a. 5.21–24,27–28,33–37 b. 6.1–18 c. 23.1–3,5,7b–10,15–22 20 Brooks,

Matthew’s Community, p. 122.  See the description and discussion of this material in Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, pp. 121–27. 22 It is likely that much of the special material is no longer recognizable because of the redactional patterns of the gospel. 23  I am drawing here from the analysis of Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, pp. 121–27, but I have presented a different organization for the material. 21

1.0 Sources employed in the Gospel of Matthew

95

3. Sayings that may or may not be from Qmt: (5.5,7,8,9) 4. Isolated sayings (5.41; 7.6; 10.23; 11.28–30; 16.17–19) 5. Passion and the resurrection traditions (27.3–10,19,24–25,51b–53,62–66; 28.2–4,9– 10,11–15). 6. The parable of the coin in the fish (17.24–27) 7. A collection of some ten parables a. 13.24–30 the weeds growing in the wheat b. 13.44–46 the hidden treasure and the valuable pearl c. 13.47–50 the fishing net d. 18.23–35 the unforgiving servant e. 20.1–16 the hired laborers f. 21.28–32 the two children g. 22.1–14 the wedding banquet h. 25.1–13 the ten maidens i. 25.14–30 the servants and the talents j. 25.31–46 the final judgment

Among these materials two groups are noteworthy. First, the parable collection is linked precisely to Jesus’ proclamation of the Kingdom and suggests an underlying thematic unity.24 Secondly, the three clusters of sayings (group a is 5.21–24,27–28,33–37; group b is 6.1–18; group c is 23.1–3,5,7b–10,15–22) show a unique focus. The first group (5.21–24,27–28,33–37) uses a distinct formula (“you have heard … but I say”) to situate the teaching of Jesus in relationship to the Law of Moses. This cluster likely serves as a demonstration of the claim that Jesus did not come to destroy the Law, but to fulfill it (5.17). The other clusters (6.1–18 and 23.1–3,5,7b–10,15–22) share a common focus and may have been linked in pre-existing tradition.25 These two clusters define the relationship with a group of Pharisees. Followers of Jesus are to accept and revere the words of the Pharisees, who sit on the seat of Moses (23.2–3). On the other hand, they are to avoid the practices of the Pharisees, who are portrayed as hypocrites (6.3,6,17; 23.3). The followers of Jesus are called to pure intentions and a consistent focus on God (6.1,3–4,6,17–18; 23.8–12). Attention must be given to a more complex cluster of sayings found in Mt 10.5–8 and 15.23–25. Here Jesus proclaims, in the presence of a Canaanite woman, that he was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel (15.24). He sends out his disciples, insisting they too go only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel (10.6). The editing that surrounds these passages is complex, but the sayings themselves seem to represent a tradition known or used only by the Gospel 24  The stylized introduction formula (“the Kingdom of heaven is like” in 13.44,45,47; 20.1 or “to what shall I compare the Kingdom of heaven?” in 13.24; 18.23; 22.2; 25.1) may or may not be redactional. The thematic unity, however, is also intrinsic to the parables. See the discussion by Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, pp. 126–27. 25 Suggested by Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, pp. 126–27.

96

Chapter Six: Sources, Traditions, Tradents

of Matthew. While there is redactional activity in the use of these sayings, these are hardly editorial productions. These two sayings counter in an explicit way what appears to be the primary purpose of this gospel, which is the initiation and sponsoring of the mission to the Gentiles (28.16–20). These sayings have been placed in the ministry of Jesus and his first disciples, but they may be superseded by a special focus at the end: the risen Jesus inaugurates a new mission and a new form of discipleship. This larger framing suggests the sayings of Mt 10.5–6 and 15.24 are inherited tradition. Furthermore, the strategic treatment of this material implies that it cannot be ignored or bypassed. The most plausible historical explanation is that these sayings represent the mindset of a group of Jesus’ first followers – and perhaps of Jesus himself. The Gospel of Matthew cannot deny this tradition. It does, however, limit it to the lifetime of Jesus in order to subsume it in the larger mission of the church. This means the Gospel of Matthew knows of special traditions, some of which show extraordinary connections to Jesus and his earliest followers. Among these are a collection of parables on the Kingdom, a teaching unit that locates Jesus’ followers in relation to a group of Pharisees, and a tradition in which the mission of Jesus and his followers is limited to the people of Israel. Thus, a loose structural and conceptual framework may be demonstrated behind material that has been identified through a general principle of dissimilarity. There is a high degree of plausibility that this echoes a line of tradition that has been taken up and appropriated within the Gospel of Matthew. We shall ask later how this material, with its Jewish focus and ethos, fits into the narrative world and into the historical context of this gospel. For the moment, it is plausible that a special collection similar to the one described above was appropriated into the Gospel of Matthew. If so, this is an important moment in the composition history, and its impact must be considered. 1.4 The Sermon on the Mount A special history lies behind the first major speech block in the Gospel of Matthew (Mt 5.1–7.29).26 Redactional activity is found in the introductory setting (5.1–2) and in the conclusion (7.28–29). The remainder of the section provides a coherent unit that has come to be known as the Sermon on the Mount. The Lukan counterpart is found in the Sermon on the Plain (Lk 6.17–49). There is no Markan form of this material, so Jesus’ sermon has been presumed to come from the Sayings Tradition (Q). The Sermon on the Mount and the Sermon on the Plain differ not only in their setting, but in their content. There is enough in common to require a source, yet enough difference to suggest a complex history of the tradition. 26  The most compact description of this issue may be found in Hans Dieter Betz, The Sermon on the Mount.

1.0 Sources employed in the Gospel of Matthew

97

Plausible explanations for the relationship between the two versions of the Sermon are limited in number. 1) The Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of Luke inherit the same version of the Sermon in the Sayings Tradition, but they edit it quite differently. The shorter and less developed form in the Gospel of Luke would be presumed closer to the source. 2) The Gospel of Luke and the Gospel of Matthew may know different forms of the Sayings Tradition: these would be called Qmt and Qlk. 2a) This could mean that Qmt and Qlk contained different versions of the Sermon and that some earlier version of the Sermon underlies both of these traditions. 2b) More plausibly, this could mean that Qmt and Qlk contained no Sermon, that the Sermon existed independently of the Sayings Tradition, and that it did so in at least two forms. This would mean the Gospel of Luke and the Gospel of Matthew each received a sermon in their special materials 3) The Gospel of Luke uses the form of the Sermon found in the Sayings Tradition; the Gospel of Matthew uses an older and independent form.

The Sermon on the Mount and the Sermon on the Plain are located in roughly the same place in the gospels, they are surrounded by a similar narrative framework, and they are followed by the same story. These factors suggest that the Sayings Tradition contained some form of Sermon that was taken up by both gospels. The internal coherence of the Sermon on the Mount and the Sermon on the Plain is noted by Hans Dieter Betz: “the material they use, the overall plan of composition they follow, and the functional purpose they have in mind.”27 Betz argues that “These elaborations, therefore, must be the work of presynoptic authors/redactors.”28 Betz thus concludes, along with a wide array of modern scholarship, that two different versions of the Sermon were already present in the Sayings Tradition. This means there were different forms of the Sayings Tradition. The significance of this position is that it places the primary responsibility for differences not in the redactional activity of the evangelists, but in the sources they received. This is of crucial importance in light of the general orientation of the Sermon on the Mount and the Sermon on the Plain. The Sermon on the Plain omits some materials that are particularly concerned with the Jewish Law, with Jewish piety, and with Jewish practices (Mt 5.17–48; 6.1–18). A variety of such traits suggests the Sermon on the Plain is intentionally shaped toward a Greek milieu. Both the Sermon on the Plain and the Sermon on the Mount are rooted in the Jewish ethos of the Jesus movement, but they seem to be shaped toward different audiences.29 Rather than arguing that a complex tradition has been stripped down in order to be used in the Gospel of Luke, it is more plausi-

 Betz, Sermon, p. 44.  Betz, Sermon, p. 44. 29 So Betz, Sermon, pp. 43–44. 27 28

98

Chapter Six: Sources, Traditions, Tradents

ble to argue that one tradition of the Sermon has been built up in two different directions. If this reconstruction of the Tradition History behind the Sermon on the Mount is accurate, it points in two very different ways to a Jewish Christian literary heritage, but this especially highlights the reshaping of these materials within the Gospel of Matthew. Betz concludes that the Sermon on the Mount contains a consistent Jewish-Christian theology of a period earlier than Matthew, a theology remaining in the context of Judaism. Matthew assigned the SM to the important place of Jesus’ first programmatic speech in his Gospel, but by the same token Matthew also relativized the SM. Taken as a whole, the Gospel of Matthew is a reinterpretation, revision, and correction of earlier sources, among them the SM.30

Betz thus concludes that a Jewish tradition has been relativised by its use within the Gospel of Matthew. This two-stage approach may be reflected in the editorial work that frames the Sermon in the Gospel of Matthew. The introduction in Mt 5.1–2 directs the teaching of the Sermon to four primary apostles: Peter and Andrew, James and John. The conclusion in Mt 7.28–29 suggests, however, that the teaching is for the crowds. This framing may echo the history of the tradition – a Jewish Christian tradition has been appropriated into a broader, more inclusive conceptual world and placed in the service of a larger mission strategy.31 While the details are debatable, there are clear markers that the Sermon is a traditional unit with a complex history prior to its appearance in the Gospel of Matthew. The appropriation of the Sermon is a crucial part of the composition history of this gospel, and thus a key component in its identity and function. This is particularly important if, as Ulrich Luz suggests, a significant portion of the Gospel of Matthew (chapters 5–9) has been structured to highlight the role of the Sermon and to connect it to the deeds of Jesus.32 If so, this is further evidence of the generative function at work in the composition history. 1.5 The Lord’s Prayer The most striking example of the reappropriation of tradition is found in the Lord’s Prayer. This prayer (Mt 6.9b–13) plays a key role in the construction of the Sermon on the Mount. It provides the center of the section on cultic instruction (6.1–18), but it may also be seen as the center of the Sermon.33 This arrange Betz, Sermon, p. 44. idea is suggested by Betz. 32  Ulrich Luz sees here a design in which the Sermon in Mt 5–7 and the miracle collection in chapters 8–9 are enclosed in a “ring-shaped composition” by the use of formulaic summaries in Mt 4.23 and 9.35. For Luz, this ring-shaped composition unites the presentation of Jesus’ words (the Sermon in Mt 5–7) and his deeds (the miracle collection in Mt 8–9). See the discussion in Luz, Matthew 1–7, p. 42. 33 So Ulrich Luz, Matthew 8–20, but also many others. 30

31 The

1.0 Sources employed in the Gospel of Matthew

99

ment is probably already present in the traditions that are prior to the Gospel of Matthew. Thus, the placement of the prayer and its general construction most likely come from the form of the Sayings Tradition known and used within the orbit of the Gospel of Matthew (Qmt). It is striking, then, that the prayer in Luke 11.2b–4 has such a different format: 1) A significant amount of content is missing; 2) Where Luke 11.2b–4 does have the same content, there is exact verbal agreement in much of the material; 3) The prayer is not found in the Sermon on the Plain (Lk 6.17–49). It operates instead in the midst of a narrative construction that is unique to the Gospel of Luke: Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem (Lk 9.51–18.14).34 This journey unit is not only unique for its narrative structure; it is also the gathering place for various special traditions used only in the Gospel of Luke: the Samaritan parable in 10.25–37; the parable of the prodigal in 15.11–32; the parable of the unjust judge in 18.1–8; the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector in 18.9–14.

These changes would be difficult to account for simply in terms of redaction. Furthermore, it is unlikely that the simpler, shorter form of the prayer in the Gospel of Luke represents a reduction of a prayer like that in Mt 6.9b–13. Technically, the prayer of Jesus in Lk 11.2b–4 could be labeled as a part of the special tradition (L) employed in the Gospel of Luke. It has been set within a much larger unit of special tradition. This complex line of development sheds some light on the history of tradition of the Lord’s Prayer and on its role in Jewish Christianity. From a literary perspective, all traditions assign the prayer to Jesus. It is historically plausible, even probable, that the prayer does go back to Jesus, but this does not provide a simple solution to its form or its development.35 At its base, the Lord’s Prayer is a Jewish prayer. This is true because it is prayed by Jesus the Jew, but this is also true because of its content, shape, and function.36 This does not mean, of course, that this prayer is indicative of all elements and all traditions of Jewish prayer. Neither is this prayer to be judged by rabbinical standards, since these had not yet been formulated. This prayer is presented, at the earliest stages of the tradition, as the prayer of a very distinctive 1st century Galilean Jew. This Jewish prayer has its own Tradition History. It is taken up in four Christian rescensions. 1) The Didache (8.2) uses the prayer as a part of its catechism for believers. Following the presentation of the Two Ways (Did 1.1–6.1, with a Christian interpolation in 1.3b–2.1), 34 It is not the journey per se that is unique, but the structure and function of this unit in the Gospel of Luke. 35  See the discussion by Betz, Sermon, pp. 372–74. 36 There is, for example, no christological element in the prayer itself.

100

Chapter Six: Sources, Traditions, Tradents

comes instruction on diet (6.3); baptism (7.1–4); fasting and prayer (8.1–3); the eucharist (9.1–10.7). The recitation of the Lord’s Prayer stands near the center (8.2–3) of this catechetical material. There is a high level of verbal agreement between the Didache prayer and Mt 6.9b–13. 2) The Gospel of Luke apparently knows a shorter version of the prayer among its special traditions (or perhaps from Qlk). The Gospel of Luke presents the prayer of Jesus in some relationship to the prayers of John the Baptist and his disciples (Lk 11.1). In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus’ prayer is taken up, along with other special materials, into the teaching that characterizes the journey to Jerusalem. The journey to Jerusalem is itself a distinct construction in the Gospel of Luke. 3) These two appropriations of the tradition highlight the role of the prayer in the orbit of the Gospel of Matthew. One of the sources available within this orbit is a coherent tradition of the Sermon on the Mount; at its center is a thoroughly Jewish prayer. In this presynoptic tradition a Jewish prayer has become the center and model for Jesus’ instruction to his closest disciples. From a source critical perspective, this tradition is likely to be found in Qmt. 4) From this trajectory the prayer has been taken up into the formal and conceptual world of the Gospel of Matthew. In that context it provides a contrast to the prayers of other Jews (Mt 6.5–8), and it also serves in a story line that ends with a turning to the Gentiles.

It is clear that the Lord’s Prayer has a complex history before and after its appropriation into the Gospel of Matthew. A Jewish prayer shaped to present the vision and teaching of Jesus has been taken into the Didache and placed into a sequence of catechetical instruction. In the Gospel of Luke, a shorter form of this tradition has been embedded into the journey to Jerusalem and joined to a distinct line of Jesus’ teaching. In the tradition of Qmt the prayer has become the center of the Sermon, and it serves as a model of Jesus’ instructions for disciples. This far-ranging tradition has been taken up into the Gospel of Matthew, where it is linked to Jesus’ deeds and becomes a part of a narrative strategy that ends in a mission to the Gentiles. In the aftermath of this gospel the prayer will be developed and used in an astounding number of ways. Through this process the distinct and rich Tradition History of the Prayer becomes a part of the composition history of the Gospel of Matthew. This connection is not only genealogical. It is both essential and generative, and it becomes a part of the identity and the function of this gospel. 1.6 The Scriptures of Israel A further resource for the Gospel of Matthew is found in the sacred writings of the Hebrew people. Davies and Allison offer the following analysis of citations and allusions in the Gospel of Matthew.37   7 39

citations shared by the Gospel of Matthew (Mt) and the Gospel of Mark (Mk) possible allusions common to Mt and Mk

37 Davies

and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, pp. 29–57.

1.0 Sources employed in the Gospel of Matthew

21   4 19 21 50

101

number of the 39 Mt/Mk allusions also used by the Gospel of Luke (Lk) citations shared by Mt and Lk, thus from Sayings Tradtion (Q) allusions shared by Mt and Lk, thus from Sayings Tradition (Q) citations peculiar to the Gospel of Matthew allusions peculiar to the Gospel of Matthew

This results in a total for the Gospel of Matthew of approximately 42 citations and 108 allusions from the Old Testament. Beyond this impressive collection, a distinct use of Old Testament tradition is found in the formula citations employed by the Gospel of Matthew. Following a narrative event, an Old Testament passage is cited as explanation of what has happened. Typically the story is seen as fulfillment of a prophetic expectation. The citation in Mt 1.22 demonstrates this technique. Following the angel’s announcement to Joseph of the birth of Jesus comes the comment that “All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet.” A direct citation of Isaiah 7.14 follows. This formulaic fulfillment citation may be found in the following passages: 1.22; 2.6; 2.15; 2.17; 2.23; 4.15–16; 8.17; 12.17– 21; 13.14; 13.35; 21.4; 27.9–10. These various allusions and citations draw from the scripture to root the story of Jesus in the history of God’s work with Israel. Perhaps the most dramatic use of scripture is found in the twofold reference (Mt 9.13 and 12.7) to Hosea 6.6: “Mercy I desire, and not sacrifice.” No other New Testament passage refers to this verse.38 In both Mt 9.13 and 12.7 the Hosea passage is used as commentary on a conflict with a group of Pharisees. In each case the conflict involves Jesus only indirectly, but the disciples directly.39 It is unlikely that this extent of citation and allusion represents the work of a single author, nor is it likely these connections were developed at one sitting. Such reflection upon the scriptures suggests a studied tradition of biblical interpretation and the ability to preserve and transmit such a tradition. It is plausible that a written collection lies behind the citations and allusions that pervade the Gospel of Matthew. While Gentile Christians will practice christological interpretation, such a tradition can only have its origins in a form of Jewish Christianity, and it suggests some level of scribal, group activity. Whether the collection of scripture is done orally or in writing, it is likely not the work of an individual, and it presumes an extended process of study and reflection in an attempt to clarify the fate of Jesus through reference to the scriptures of Israel.40 The most plausible trajectory is that a traditional collection  It is difficult to know if these verses are redactional or reflect a source. later chapter on the context of the Gospel of Matthew will consider whether this passage speaks, in a rather transparent way, to conflict between Jesus’ followers and some group of Pharisees at the time of the writing or whether an earlier context is addressed. 40 The nuance and complexity is extraordinary. For some citations the process begins when the text of Isaiah is cited in the Gospel of Mark. The Gospel of Mark (citing Isaiah) is then cited by the Gospel of Matthew, but not always in the same way! To reduce this extraordinary composition history to “Matthew said” and “Isaiah said” would be unthinkable. 38

39 The

102

Chapter Six: Sources, Traditions, Tradents

of scripture has been taken up into the Gospel of Matthew. This incorporation of scripture citation and its use as an interpretive frame for the story of Jesus represents a distinct moment in the composition history of this gospel. 1.7 A Petrine Tradition The unique role of Peter in the Gospel of Matthew also suggests a special Petrine tradition, whether oral or written.41 In taking up the disciples list from the Gospel of Mark (Mk 3.16–19), Mt 10.2 prefaces the name of Peter with “first”. This signals a larger concern with the profile of Peter. In the Gospel of Matthew, Peter is frequently treated as a representative of the disciples. He asks questions on their behalf (Mt 15.15; 18.21); questions to the disciples are directed through him (17.24); and it is Peter who confronts Jesus and is corrected by him (16.22–23; 19.27–30; 26.33–34). Most significantly, the dialogue from Mark 8.27–30 has been altered to include a blessing on Peter. In Caesarea Philippi, Jesus asks the disciples who they say he is. In three gospels, it is Peter who confesses that Jesus is the Christ (Mk 8.27; Lk 9.20; Mt 16.16). Only in the Gospel of Matthew, however, does this confession elicit a response directly to Peter: Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jona. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father who is in heaven. And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it. I will give you the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven, and whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven (Mt 16.17–19).

Another similar shaping occurs in the story of the transfiguration scene. When Peter suggests the building of three tabernacles on the mount of transfiguration, the Gospel of Luke accepts the observation from the Gospel of Mark that Peter did not know what to say (Mk 9.6; Lk 9.33). This negative note is omitted from the account of the transfiguration in the Gospel of Matthew (Mt 17.1–9). Thus, it becomes clear that Peter plays a distinct role in the Gospel of Matthew. While negative images of Peter remain – many of which are taken from the Gospel of Mark – the image of Peter in the Gospel of Matthew is largely a positive one.42 We will ask in a later section whether this narrative focus on Peter has any special connection to the context of this gospel. For the moment it is sufficient to show that a distinct tradition about the role of Peter has been taken up and developed within the story line of the Gospel of Matthew. This tradition forms

41  See Luz, Matthew 8–20, pp. 353–79; see also Peter in the New Testament, ed. Raymond Brown, Karl Donfried, and John Reumann (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1973). 42  Peter is treated harshly at times in the Gospel of Mark. See my analysis of the Gethsemene scene and the scene of Peter’s denial, both of which seem to have been shaped to portray Peter in a negative way, in Broadhead, Prophet, Son, Messiah, pp. 88–111 and 146–61.

1.0 Sources employed in the Gospel of Matthew

103

an element in the composition history of this gospel and thus contributes to its identity and function. 1.8 Structure, Style, Rhetoric as Received Tradition When New Testament scholars speak of sources, they typically refer to written documents. This concept has been expanded in recent studies to include oral traditions. Beyond this, the Gospel of Matthew also appropriates patterns of structure, style and argumentation, and these rhetorical traditions may also be seen as a part of its composition history. The idea of framing the story of Jesus along a plotted sequence is first realized in the Gospel of Mark. Werner Kelber believes that putting the story of Jesus into a historical framework that ends with the passion story provides a radical departure from the oral tradition and its focus on the sayings of Jesus.43 Kelber believes this innovation is not simply procedural, but strategic: it is part of an early Christian debate over the nature of the tradition. The Gospel of Matthew has appropriated not only structure and story from the Gospel of Mark, but also its larger narrative strategy. This is a received tradition that plays an important role in the framing of this gospel. But the Gospel of Matthew also takes over the strategy of the Sayings Tradition, incorporating it into the flow of Jesus’ ministry. This too is a received tradition, and this combination is an important part of the framing of this gospel. As we shall see later, this combination of two major streams of tradition has a dramatic impact on the face of the narrative. Davies and Allison ponder the extensive use of triadic constructions through this gospel, but they find no compelling redactional or theological interest. They conclude that this is a widespread literary technique, citing rabbinic usage and its role in oral tradition as an aid to memory.44 The technique is taken up and used widely within the Gospel of Matthew. A similar observation could be made about various forms that appear in the Gospel of Matthew. The Form Critics believed that early Christians had a rather standardized repertoire of materials (sayings, parables, miracle stories, controversy stories, and others) and these circulated according to rather fixed patterns. While this paradigm has been refined and challenged, the basic model holds significance. The Gospel of Matthew has appropriated and developed various types of early Christian material. Even more significant is the use of Jewish patterns of rhetoric. Ulrich Luz notes that this gospel is written in “synagogue Greek” and is strongly influenced by the Septuagint (the Greek version of the Old Testament). The Greek of this Gospel reflects Jewish features in its syntax and vocabulary, and the language 43  Werner Kelber, The Oral and the Written Gospel: The Hermeneutics of Speaking and Writing in the Synoptic Tradition, Mark, Paul, and Q (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1983) 44 Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, pp. 62–72.

104

Chapter Six: Sources, Traditions, Tradents

“sometimes shows a clear relationship to the linguistic development in rabbinic Judaism of the time.”45 Beyond this, Jewish scribal practices are evident in this gospel.46 1.9 Summation It becomes clear, then, that a key dynamic underlying the composition of the Gospel of Matthew is the reappropriation of a variety of existing materials, whether written or oral. Among these are the Gospel of Mark, the Sayings Tradition (Q), special materials within the orbit of the Gospel of Matthew (M), the Sermon on the Mount, the Lord’s Prayer, the scriptures of Israel, Petrine traditions, and various rhetorical traditions. The appropriation of these varied materials is a part of the composition history of the Gospel of Matthew. The process that incorporated this material also changed it and added to it. In doing so, the composers of this gospel “had to become a source.”47 Moreover, the rich flow of traditions into the Gospel of Matthew will be matched by the extraordinary history of development that flows from this gospel. For the moment, however, it is important to note that these various sources are an important part of the composition history. Having identified these sources, we will ask in the following sections about their essential nature and about their generative function within the Gospel of Matthew.

2.0 Sources as Traditions When modern scholars speak of sources, they refer in most cases to written materials. Indeed, some will distinguish sources from oral traditions. Moreover, the longstanding obsession with the synoptic problem has left its mark on scholarship. Almost all solutions to the interrelationship of the synoptic gospels are documentary hypotheses, as is the dominant hypothesis about the construction of the Pentateuch. When sources are conceptualized in this way, they tend to be characterized as fixed traditions and to be seen in utilitarian terms. Sources are typically viewed as flat packets of information that can be paraphrased or quoted in support of an argument. As such, their use and their function are under the control of the author. This term-paper mentality has been too easily transferred to the texts of antiquity. The image of Matthew sitting at his desk with a hosts of documents spread before him is an implicit, sometimes explicit, paradigm applied by modern 45 Luz, Matthew 1–7, p. 50. On this topic see the work of Adolph Schlatter in Die Kirche Matthäus (Gütersloh: Bertelsmann, 1929). 46  Luz, Matthew 1–7, p. 78. 47 Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, p. 96.

2.0 Sources as Traditions

105

scholarship to ancient writing. As noted earlier, this model blurs the dynamic nature of Tradition History by treating texts as fixed commodities under the control of an author. This model of texts has also been transfered to the use of sources in ancient documents. Paul and Josephus may write this way on occasions. Josephus tells us his source as some points, but this is not simply information; it is a part of his branding of his material as reliable and worthy of the larger Hellenistic world. At other places Josephus claims to be an eyewitness, and it is clear at other places that he is dependent upon a variety of received tradition. Paul may have worked from written sources on some occasions. In a letter written in Paul’s name, he asks Timothy to bring his cloak and “the books, especially the parchments” (2 Tim 4.13). The authentic letters, however, show how dependent Paul was on received tradition, likely in oral form. In Philippians 2.5–11, Paul is citing an ancient hymn, and in 1 Corinthians 15.3–7 he incorporates into his own testimony a tradition (paradosis) that he had received: “For I handed on to you as of first importance what I had received: Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures … and he was buried … and he was raised … and he was seen.” I wish here to make a very simple argument: sources are traditions, and this is particularly true in the case of the Gospel of Matthew. I made the case in an earlier article that it is cumbersome, but also inaccurate to speak of the Sayings Tradition as a source or to call it by the letter Q (likely from Quelle, the German word for source). Critical scholarship knows about the Sayings Tradition precisely because it was used as a source in the writing of the Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of Luke. But the Sayings Tradition was not composed as a source, and that is not its essential identity and function. The Gospel of Mark was also used as a source for two others gospels, but it was not designed and composed as a source – that is a consequent use. The Gospel of Mark is a gospel, the Sayings Tradition is a tradition – a collection of the sayings of Jesus. In both instances, it is clear that these are not simply documents available for insertion into later research and writing. They are traditions that have their own life: they incorporate a message, a rhetorical strategy, and a worldview. The sources employed in the construction of the Gospel of Matthew are equally traditions with their own story to tell. That is especially clear when the Gospel of Matthew appropriates a piece of Isaiah: in doing so it has evoked not only the words of the text, but also the voice of the prophets and the authority of Israel’s scriptures. This becomes true of all of the myriad citations and allusions drawn from the Old Testament. When the Gospel of Matthew appropriates the Gospel of Mark, it appropriates its content and structure, but also its vocabulary and style and its conceptual world. This argument may be extended to the Sayings Tradition, to the special traditions, to the traditions about Peter. These traditions are not simply words; they have their own voice. The gathering of these

106

Chapter Six: Sources, Traditions, Tradents

voices into the Gospel of Matthew is a key dynamic in the composition history of this gospel, and it carries an extraordinary generative potential.

3.0 Traditions and Tradents I wish to make a second argument that seems obvious: traditions have tradents – people who sponsor and preserve and transmit them. The most obvious example of this is perhaps the mishnah. While the mishnah can lie on the desk and it can be used as a source, it is difficult to imagine the mishnah without the rabbis. Indeed, the central claim of authority enshrined in the mishnah is its claim to stand alongside the written Torah. This assertion is based on its claim of an unbroken line of oral tradition that goes back to Moses: Moses received the Torah from Sinai and gave it over to Joshua. Joshua gave it over to the Elders, the Elders to the Prophets, and the Prophets gave it over to the Men of the Great Assembly (Pirke Avot 1.1)

The tradition is traced from the time of Ezra and Nehemiah and the Great Assembly through a series of sages, including Hillel, Shammai, and Gamaliel, until it reaches Judah HaNasi (139–213 ce), who is credited with gathering this tradition into written form as the mishnah. The point is a simple one: there is no mishnah without rabbis to learn and repeat it. This is true even after it emerges in written form. It is also true that the mishnah – whether oral or written – remains a collective work: no rabbi is important enough to become an author. The Gospel of Matthew and the mishnah belong to a world far removed from the modern approach to journal articles and research papers and commentaries. In the world of the Gospel of Matthew, traditions – whether oral or written – are carried by tradents who are deeply invested in their construction, but also in their preservation and transmission. In the ancient world, these tradents typically operated in some form of collective or association, often in schools or communities, and they were sometimes itinerant.48 Their patronage and their authority became a part of the tradition, even after it was written down, and even after they were gone.49 This is the most plausible model for understanding the composition history of the Gospel of Matthew. Rather than imagining the Gospel of Mark as a bound edition on the writing desk, isolated from its context, it is more appropriately 48  Alan Culpepper identifies a wide range of schools and their writings in the ancient world. See the work in his published dissertation entitled The Johannine School: An Evaluation of the Johannine School Hypothesis Based on an Investigation of the Nature of Ancient Schools (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1975). 49 The traditions associated with Hillel and Shammai are examples of this.

3.0 Traditions and Tradents

107

seen as the tradition of a group of tradents who are present and active within the orbit of the Gospel of Matthew. David Parker reminds us that a scroll can only be opened to be read in one place at a time.50 Tradents, on the other hand can not only read; they can debate and memorize and recite. The Gospel of Mark clearly comes into the orbit of the Gospel of Matthew as a written text. The most plausible explanation for how it does so, however, is through tradents for whom this is the gospel (Mk 1.1). The Sayings Tradition is best understood in the context of tradents – those who sponsor and preserve and transmit the tradition. As a collection of sayings of Jesus, it almost certainly began as an oral collection, likely in Aramaic. As such, it could only be carried by tradents. Eventually someone translated the sayings into Greek and they were written down. This does not mean the end of the oral tradition. In some sense, the text was a script for oral performance, and oral traditions often competed with and corrected written traditions. There is strong evidence that the Sayings Tradition was carried by tradents. Within the Gospel of Mark (6.6b–13), and appropriated within the Gospel of Matthew (10.1–14), is a commission to a prophetic, itinerant ministry among the villages. The urgency of the commission requires the disciples to go with almost no provisions and to depend upon the hospitality of the villages. They are sent to proclaim what Jesus proclaimed. A similar image emerges in the Didache (Did 11.1–12). where traveling teachers and prophets are to be respected, but treated with caution. They are to be given a few days of room and board, but then sent on their way. If they wish to retire into the community, they may. An interesting declaration in the Didache may unveil their real status: Didache 15.2 pleads that bishops should receive as much respect as the teachers and the prophets. Gerd Theissen linked itinerant prophets found in the gospels and in the Didache with the tradents of the Sayings Tradition.51 The Sayings Tradition, with its theology of imminent judgment and its call to repentence, is likely born and preserved in the work of these itinerant prophets. It is plausible that such tradents brought the Sayings Tradition into the orbit of the Gospel of Matthew, and they likely remained there as its sponsors – its proponents and guardians. The best explanation for the extensive list of Old Testament citations and allusions is a collection of texts that serve as proof from scripture. Whether written or oral, the most plausible setting for this tradition is among a community of scribes and scholars and tradents. Not every small piece of tradition requires a community of tradents, but the standard holds. Traditions are typically transmitted by tradents. At some point these traditions are written down, but these texts often exist in the presence of living witnesses or sponsors who are able to challenge any misappropriations.  Parker, The Living Text of the Gospels. Theissen, Social Reality and the Early Christians (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992).

50

51 Gerd

108

Chapter Six: Sources, Traditions, Tradents

The authority of the tradents can remain with a tradition long after they are gone.52 Thus, even if the Gospel of Mark comes into the community as a borrowed text, it may still carry the authority of its tradents. The Gospel of Matthew is constructed upon an unusual variety of sources. I have argued that these sources are traditions with their own voice. Such traditions are typically carried by tradents who are responsible for their creation, preservation, and transmission. Tradents usually give voice to the tradition by their own performance. Such traditions, such tradents, such voices are key components in the composition history of the Gospel of Matthew.

4.0 Conclusion A formalistic analysis of the Gospel of Matthew can bracket out the noise of external factors and move the question of authorship to the background. Attention to the Tradition History can bring to the foreground the dynamic processes through which texts are composed, preserved, and transmitted. The first step in such a Tradition History is attention to the composition history. At the core of the composition history is the question of sources. The Gospel of Matthew draws upon a wide and varied number of sources. This is not, however, a simple borrowing of words and phrases and stories. Sources are changed and realigned by their incorporation into new narrative settings, and these narratives are themselves changed by the materials they employ. I have insisted that sources are traditions – they have their own concepts and values and strategies, they speak with their own voice. I have also insisted that traditions imply tradents, particularly at their formative stages. In later stages a tradition may take written form and sometimes circulates independent of its sponsors. Even then, it is typical that the mantle and authority of the tradents remains. Having identified the sources for the Gospel of Matthew, we can can ask further questions about composition history. In the next chapter we will ask how these various traditions have been appropriated within the world of the Gospel of Matthew. This process provides a type of genealogy of the work, but it provides much more. The composition history has a generative dimension, and it is a key component in the identity and the function of this gospel. I will later show that the dynamics at work in the Gospel of Matthew are not simply literary transactions: they are a part of the way in which communities construct their identity and claim their place on the map. 52 In some cases, a new, apostolic sponsor is assigned to the tradition. This is the case when Papias makes Peter the sponsor for the Gospel of Mark. It is likely also true when Papias’ Matthew, with his Hebrew logia, is made by subsequent generations into the the sponsor of a Greek gospel.

Chapter Seven

The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: Composition The Gospel of Matthew is a gathering point for a variety of existing traditions. This composition history provides a type of genealogy, but it is also essential and generative. As a consequence, the Gospel of Matthew becomes, in its own right, a Living Tradition. When the search for an author is moved to the background and renewed attention is given to this complex history of development, a different dynamic is unveiled and a diffent picture of the Gospel of Matthew emerges. The following sections will explore various dimensions of that process and the text it creates.

1.0 Text and Tradition Attention to the composition history showed the dynamic process through which a variety of diverse traditions are gathered into the Gospel of Matthew. This process produces a text. As noted earlier, Parker defines the text as “the form in which the work appears in each manuscript.”1 The earliest fragment we have for the Gospel of Matthew is dated around 200 ce, while the earliest known full text is from around 350 ce. Thus, the Gospel of Matthew is the work whose text is known through various manuscripts. Parker defines the work as a “single form of text distilled from all the varied forms in which it is known.”2 For Parker’s work I have also used the term Tradition. The traditions gathered through the composition history composed a text, and the text is an exemplar of the work or Tradition. While existing traditions are used to create texts, these texts can themselves become Traditions. The clearest example of this is the Gospel of Mark. There are sources behind the Gospel of Mark, and these traditions are gathered into a work. The Gospel of Mark is then used as a source in the composition history of the Gospel of Matthew. Thus, traditions are drawn into the text of a work (Gospel of Mark), and this new Tradition (work) has been appropriated into the text of a new work (Gospel of Matthew). The Gospel of Matthew will be appropriated into the four gospel collection, then into the canon of the New 1 2

 Parker, Textual Scholarship and the Making of the New Testament, p. 11.  Parker, Textual Scholarship and the Making of the New Testament, p. 11.

110

Chapter Seven: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: Composition

Testament. There are traditions standing behind texts, and texts can themselves become Traditions. While genealogical aspects of this process are clear, there is a greater dynamic at work. The flow of traditions and texts and works into other traditions and texts and works is a generative process. It can create more, but it can also create less. Furthermore, this process is essential – it goes to the heart of the question of identity and function. Lest this be seen solely as a literary process, these dynamics are key components in the way communities claim their identity and their place on the map.

2.0 Competing Traditions within the Gospel of Matthew We turn first to composition history  – to the question of how the Gospel of Matthew is constituted as the Text of a Tradition (work). The construction of the Gospel of Matthew presumes an editorial process through which existing traditions are framed and appropriated within a narrative context. I will refer to this process as composition or editing, and I will refer to those who guide this process as composers or editors. Description of this process will be framed in formal terms rather than in subjective personifications of an author. In the previous chapter I argued that sources are traditions and that traditions have tradents. The composition history asks how these traditions and tradents have been incorporated into the world of the narrative. I will argue that the Gospel of Matthew is constituted around competing traditions. 2.1 A Markan Voice in a Matthean World The Gospel of Matthew has appropriated 90 % of the Gospel of Mark, and this accounts for some 56 % of the Gospel of Matthew. While the Gospel of Mark has been used as a source, it is, in its essence, a tradition that was born, at some stages, by tradents. The Gospel of Mark is a living tradition with its own structures and strategies, its own gestalt and worldview, its own voice. I will here speak of the Markan voice, but I will do so in a formalistic way. By this term I do not invoke an author and authorial design; I mean instead the narrative voice, but more importantly, the voice of the Tradition that we know as the Gospel of Mark. I will also begin to speak of a Matthean world. By this term I do not refer to an author or to authorial design. I am referring in a formalistic way to the structures and strategies of the Gospel of Matthew. I will also refer to the editorial process and the editorial hand without knowing who and how many and how long was involved in this process. This is a formalistic analysis set within a history of traditions context. The appropriation of the Gospel of Mark into the Gospel of Matthew is not simply a cut-and-past move that inserts the content of one text into another.

2.0 Competing Traditions within the Gospel of Matthew

111

Even when the words are the same, the context and the narrative strategies create a new environment operating under different dynamics. I am asking here how the Markan voice is heard in the world created in the Gospel of Matthew, where it has been relativized and joined to other voices. An important part of the composition history is this generative process in which a Markan voice is established in a Matthean world. I will need to work in broad terms and characteristics for the most part. To do so, I will focus on the images of discipleship and ecclesiology. I will ask how the Markan voice has been taken up and transformed, and I will consider the generative power of this process on the composition of the Gospel of Matthew. 2.1.1 Discipleship in the Gospel of Mark The gospels employ various narrative techniques to assert specific understandings of what it means to be a disciple of Jesus and what it means to constitute the community of his followers. These formal components and dynamics of a text create a literary sign – Significance or Signification – that is measurable in the same way that the sense of a sentence is measurable. I have argued that the Gospel of Mark is a narrative performance that creates five major signs: 1. The sign that frames the whole of this gospel is the coming of the Kingdom of God. 2. While the gospel is framed by the sign of the Kingdom, its most pervasive focus is on the identity of Jesus as the messiah and the arrival of the Kingdom in his ministry. 3. In the Gospel of Mark, the Kingdom is a movement of liberation that crosses the boundaries separating humans from God. This is seen especially in the miracle stories. 4. In the Gospel of Mark, the religious leaders have failed God and abandoned Israel. This judgment is directed in a particular way against the Temple. 5. The last major sign is one that endures far beyond the range of the gospel story: the difficulty of what it means to follow Jesus.3 The negative role of disciples in the Gospel of Mark was noticed by William Wrede in 1901. Wrede argued that Mark was confronted by the widespread difficulty in recognizing Jesus as the messiah. Wrede believed that Mark dealt with this tendency, particularly among the disciples, by imposing a messianic secrecy upon the life of Jesus, mostly in the miracle stories.4 Thus, the disciples are characterized by a lack of understanding or by a misunderstanding of the messianic role of Jesus.  Broadhead, Teaching with Authority.  William Wrede, The Messianic Secret (trans. J. C. G. Greig; Cambridge: James Clark, 1971 [1901]). 3 4

112

Chapter Seven: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: Composition

Theodore Weeden built on the work of Wrede and of Dieter Giorgi to interpret the disciples as the proponents of a false Christology that saw Jesus in the model of the Hellenistic Divine Man.5 For Weeden, the disciples articulate the view of the opponents addressed by the Gospel of Mark. Weeden argues that this false view of Jesus is articulated by disciples in the first half of the gospel so that it may corrected by the passion story that dominates the latter half. This narrative attack on the disciples was sometimes seen as a veiled reference to the role of Peter and the family of Jesus in the later community. In response to the work of Wrede and Weeden, I argued in 1992 that “the Gospel of Mark avoids the Christological dichotomy between the Jesus of the miracles and the Jesus of the cross. Instead, the narrative grammar constructs an integrated portrait: Jesus is the powerful proclaimer whose wondrous teachings lead to his death.”6 While I rejected the idea that a corrective Christology divides the Gospel of Mark into two halves, I argued that the characterization of the disciples is one of increasing failure. The failure of the disciples is played out in painful detail in the scenes of this Gospel. Beginning in the Galilee the disciples fail to understand Jesus, they grow cowardly and impotent and they are overcome by self-interest. The concept of discipleship as a way of suffering and service and death lies beyond their grasp. In Jerusalem the dangers of failure are realized. Despite their boasts of fidelity and courage, one betrays Jesus, one denies him, all flee, one flees naked. None of the Twelve are to be found at the scene of the cross or at the empty tomb. In the end even the faithful women flee with fear and trembling and say nothing to anyone. If discipleship is to endure beyond the tragic events of Jerusalem, it will take a miracle. The reader is offered this sign as a guide and a warning for all who seek to follow Jesus.7

This narrative articulation of the disciples’ growing failure may be illustrated in the workings of the miracle stories. A consistent motif in the body of the Markan miracle stories is the presentation of the need or the opponent. In the initial miracle stories, opposition presents itself in the form of demons and disease (Mk 1.21–29; 1.29–31; 1.32–39). In subsequent stories, religious leaders, in their opposition to Jesus, take the place of demons and disease (Mk 2.1–13; 3.1–7). Then, in the sea crossing story of Mk 6.47–53, the fearful need of the disciples places them in an opposing role normally occupied by demons, sickness, and danger. The command of Jesus is first directed to the fear of the disciples (“Fear not”), and the storm is stilled only when he enters the boat.

 Theodore Weeden, Mark: Traditions in Conflict (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1971).  Broadhead, Teaching with Authority, p. 213. 7 Broadhead, Mark, p. 145. 5 6

2.0 Competing Traditions within the Gospel of Matthew

113

As Eduard Schweizer8 and others noted, the Markan focus on discipleship is framed by two healing stories (8.22–27a; 10.46–52). Bartimaus employs his sight to do what disciples have avoided: he follows Jesus “in the way” – a journey that will lead to the cross (10.52). True discipleship is thus characterized as a miracle. The failure of the disciples is epitomized in Jerusalem in the denial by Peter, the betrayal by Judas, and the fleeing of the disciples. Jesus himself declares that “You will all fall away.” (14.27) Only the promise to meet the risen Jesus in the Galilee (14.28; 16.7) offers a glimpse of hope for the fallen disciples. 2.1.2 Ecclesiology in the Gospel of Mark By the standards of Systematic Theology, there is no consistent analysis of ecclesiology in the Gospel of Mark. The term ἐκκλησία does not appear in the gospel. Moreover, it is difficult to show passages that envision an ongoing community of Jesus’ followers with a clear identity, structure, and task. The closest one comes to this is the apocalyptic discourse in Mark 13. Most scholars see Mark 13 as a layered account that speaks directly to the situation of Jesus’ followers in the aftermath of the fall of Jerusalem. Given as instruction to four disciples (Mk 13.3–5), Jesus tells of the coming crisis and gives guidance for enduring these events. The “you” addressed in Mark 13 is Peter, James, John, and Andrew: Take heed that no one leads you astray (13.5) When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed … the end is not yet …   this is the beginning of birth pangs (13.7–8) But watch out for yourselves, for they will hand you over to the Sanhedrin and you will   be beaten in synagogues and before governors and kings you will stand in behalf   of me as a witness against them (13.9) But unto all the nations first it is necessary for the gospel to be preached (13.11) And when they will bring you to trial, do not be anxious … (13.11) You will be hated by all on account of my name (13.13) But the one enduring to the end, this one shall be saved (13.13) Let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains (13.14) Take heed and watch …. And what I say to you I say to all: Watch (13.33,37)

The mission to the nations appears here as a marker that the end is not yet, and the real task of the followers of Jesus is to watch and endure. This focus on discipleship and ecclesiology make it clear that the Gospel of Mark operates in a context of crisis. The disciples within the story line fail, and any hope of recovery lies in the future. The hints about the shape of that future are bleak, but in the midst of this is a call to endurance and faithfulness in the face of persecution and suffering. 8  Eduard Schweizer, The Good News According to Mark (Richmond: John Knox Press, 1970).

114

Chapter Seven: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: Composition

2.1.3 Appropriation of Markan Discipleship How does the Gospel of Matthew adopt, adapt, omit, or add to this tradition of discipleship and ecclesiology? How does this appropriation change the face of the tradition, and how does this appropriation shape the contours of the Gospel of Matthew? The Markan characterization of discipleship is taken over by the Gospel of Matthew, but it is also changed through a variety of techniques. Among these are adoption, adaptation, omission, and addition. The key strategy in the Gospel of Matthew is adoption. Since the Gospel of Matthew takes over some 90 % of the Gospel of Mark, with the borrowed material composing some 56 % of the Gospel of Matthew, it is not surprising that the basic components of Markan discipleship are adopted. Nonetheless, the Gospel of Matthew makes various adaptations to the Markan portrait of the disciples. A few scenes will illustrate this. The most noteworthy example is the scene at Caesarea Philippi (Mt 16.13–20; Mk 8.27–30). The Markan account, which ends with a command to secrecy about Jesus, has been adapted by extending the confession of Peter, by adding a blessing to Peter, and by foreshadowing the emergence of the ἐκκλησία. In a similar way, the sea crossing story of Mark 6.47–53 has been extended (Mt 14.28–33) to include Peter’s call to Jesus and Peter’s walking on the water (and sinking). After his rescue, Peter confesses to Jesus that “Truly you are the Son of God.” Omission also plays a key role. In the transfiguration scene (Mt 17.1–8; Mk 9.2–8) the Gospel of Matthew omits the note in Mark 9.6 that Peter “did not know what to answer” and that the disciples are filled with fear (ἔκφοβοι). In its place the Gospel of Matthew inserts epiphanic imagery: the disciples fall on their faces in awe (σϕόδρα), then Jesus touches them and commands them to “rise and have no fear” (μὴ φοβεῖσθε) The Gospel of Matthew omits the embarrassing scene of the follower of Jesus who flees naked into the night (Mk 14.51–52). It may be important that the Gospel of Matthew notes, in the list of the Twelve (Mt 10.1–4; Mk 3.13–19), that Peter is first. A few examples will illustrate the impact of additions to the Markan material. The Sermon on the Mount (Mt 5–7) has its roots in the Sayings Tradition (Q, Qmt), but it plays a key role in its new narrative context in the Gospel of Matthew. Here the call to the Kingdom is translated into practical demands that fulfill the Torah (5.17–18), and this call is directed specifically to the disciples (5.1). Each of the five major teaching discourse units (Mt 5–7; 10; 13; 18; 24–25) can be understood in this way. They are constructed units that serve within the narrative world of the Gospel of Matthew as instructions directed to present and future followers of Jesus.

2.0 Competing Traditions within the Gospel of Matthew

115

Various elements of the Sondergut (the special material or M) enhance the role of disciples. A key example of this is found Mt 16.12. Though they are slow, the disciples finally understand that Jesus is warning them of the teaching of the Pharisees and the Sadducees. This is easily seen as a layered address to the postwar community. Another example is the description of scribes trained for the Kingdom, found in Mt 13.51–52. Here the themes of discipleship, Kingdom, and the scribal tradition of Torah are interlaced. This summary statement comes at the close of a teaching session composed of three parables from the Sondergut (Mt 13.36–43; 13.44–46; 13.47–50), and this unit is addressed to Jesus’ followers (Mt 13.36). In addition to the changes in the confession of Peter at Caesarea Philippi (Mt 16.13–20; Mk 8.27–30) and the priority of Peter in the disciples list (Mt 10.1– 4; Mk 3.13–19), various additions enhance the role of Peter.9 Among these are the addition of Peter walking on the water (Mt 14.28–31); Jesus’ blessing for Peter (Mt 16.17–19); Peter’s inquiry about paying taxes (Mt 17.24–27); and Peter’s question about forgiveness (Mt 18.21–22). While there are both negative and positive images associated with his role, Peter is the brightest and the best of the disciples in the Gospel of Matthew. The most important addition is the commissioning scene that concludes the Gospel of Matthew. While the oldest manuscripts of the Gospel of Mark end with the fear, flight, and silence of the only witnesses of the empty tomb, the Gospel of Matthew transitions to a climactic appearance scene. This scene completes the Matthean characterization of discipleship and begins the building of the ἐκκλησία promised earlier. This scene can also be seen as the key to the narrative framework of this gospel. One of the key themes in the additions is obedience to the Law. Jesus proclaims his faithfulness to Torah and demands that his followers keep even the least elements of the Law (5.17–20). The teaching of Jesus in his speeches and the focus on the scribes of the Kingdom are distinct examples of this. While the Gospel of Mark shows Jesus challenging the Law on issues such as eating and Sabbath, the Gospel of Matthew insists on full obedience.10 Thus, Markan images and strategies for the portrayal of discipleship have been appropriated within the world of the Gospel of Matthew through a variety of techniques. These changes typically offer a new, more positive understanding of the disciples, often focused around the role of Peter. This reconfigured characterization also prepares for the future role of the disciples in the establishment of the church (ἐκκλησία).

 Donald Senior discusses this focus in What are they saying about Matthew?, pp. 95–100.  The declaration that all foods are clean in Mk 7.19 is missing from this account in the Gospel of Matthew (Mt 15.1–20).  9

10

116

Chapter Seven: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: Composition

2.1.4 Appropriation of Markan Ecclesiology The primary distinction, over against the Gospel of Mark, is that the Gospel of Matthew has an ecclesiology. While not comprehensive or systematic, the Gospel of Matthew employs various narrative components and techniques to point to the future role of the community of Jesus’ followers. Of the canonical gospels, only the Gospel of Matthew employs the term ἐκκλησία (Mt 16.18; 18.17 twice). Beyond this linguistic marker, various scenes point to the continuing community of faith. A few examples will illustrate this theme. 2.1.4.1 The Scribes of the Kingdom (Mt 13.51–52) While scribes who inhabit the story world of this gospel are typically treated with disdain, two exceptions point to future scribal activity among the followers of Jesus. Reference to “their scribes” (Mt 7.28) may imply “your scribes”. Moreover, Mt 13.51–52 speaks of scribes who have been made into disciples of the Kingdom of Heaven. These scribes are like a householder who brings out of the treasury “things new and old.” Since there is no presentation of scribal activity among the followers of Jesus within this gospel, it likely refers to scribal activity in the future community, where followers of Jesus draw upon the Hebrew scriptures, the teachings of Jesus, and – perhaps – the synagogue collection11 in order to interpret the messianic dimensions of Jesus’ life and the place of his followers within the story of God’s people. 2.1.4.2 The Sons of the Kingdom (Mt 17.24–27) The place of the Two-Drachma Tax is addressed in Mt 17.24–27. Here Jesus claims an exemption for the sons of the king, yet he instructs Peter to pay for both of them in order to prevent scandal. At stake here is an issue that will emerge in the aftermath of the fall of the Temple – avoiding taxes by no longer claiming Jewish identity. This pericope seems to address this question for the Matthean community. 2.1.4.3 The Eschatological Discourse (Mk 13.1–37; Mt 24.1–44; Mt 10.17–22a) The Gospel of Matthew adopts the Markan temporal interpretation of the coming woes. These wars, famines, and earthquakes mean the end is not yet (Mt 24.6; Mk 13.7); they are “the beginning of birth pangs” (Mt 24.8; Mk 13.8). 11  Joseph of Tiberias, in the 4th century ce, claims that Jewish Christians have in their genizah (a synagogue storage area for texts, usually discarded) Hebrew copies of the Gospel of Matthew, the Gospel of John, and the book of Acts.

2.0 Competing Traditions within the Gospel of Matthew

117

In stark contrast, the Gospel of Matthew does not accept the Markan interpretation of the final witness to the nations (Mk 13.9–10). The Markan focus on self-judgment (“But watch out for yourselves”) is transformed into “Beware of people” in Mt 24.17. In Mk 13.9 disciples are are to give witness before governors and kings. I have argued that this is a negative witness (“against them”) in the Gospel of Mark,12 and here it is directed against the nations (έθνη). In an earlier passage, Mt 10.18 seems to interpret this as a positive witness, then extends it to the Gentile people (ἔθνεσιν, used also in Mt 5.47; 18.17, 3 John 7). Consciously omitted from Mt 10.18 is the Markan temporal marker that “the gospel must first be preached to all the nations” (Mk 13.10). This message is relocated into a different context in Mt 24.14 to supplement the Markan interpretation of the future community: “the one who endures to the end shall be saved.” (Mk 13.13). In this way Mt 24.14 fills the interim of suffering with the mission to the nations, a mission that centers around the preaching of “this gospel of the Kingdom” (Mt 24.14). Thus, the Gospel of Matthew interprets the Markan vision of apocalyptic suffering through its own mission to the “whole world.” When this mission is accomplished, “the end will come.” (Mt 24.14). 2.1.4.4 Eschatology Underway This redirection of the apocalyptic timeline sets the stage for the last scenes of this gospel. The Gospel of Matthew accepts the Markan promise that Jesus will “go before you into the Galilee,” voicing it both before the crucifixion (Mk 14.28; Mt 26.32) and at the door of the empty tomb (Mk 16.7; Mt 28.7). While the Gospel of Mark leaves this as an open-ended prophecy of hope, the Gospel of Matthew makes specific reference to the promise in the appearance to the women (Mt 28.10) and demonstrates its fulfillment in Mt 28.16–20 when “the eleven disciples went to the Galilee.” These maneuvers set the stage for the climactic scene of the Gospel of Matthew. With the resurrection of Jesus, things have changed. First, there is a new status for Jesus: he has all authority in both heaven and earth. Secondly, the disciples have a new task to do what they were earlier forbidden to do: go beyond the house of Israel. Thirdly, they have a new rite in the form of baptism. Fourthly, they have a new credo: in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Fifthly, they have a new task: to teach and to make disciples. Finally, they have a new promise: the risen Christ is with them in their activity, which will lead them (as in Mt 24) to the end of the age.

12 See

the larger argument and analysis in Broadhead, “Mark 1,44: The Witness of the Leper.”

118

Chapter Seven: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: Composition

2.1.4.5 Cleaning up the Script While the Gospel of Matthew employs 90 % of the Gospel of Mark, attention to the unused portion is revealing.13 A number of the omitted passages show the emotion of Jesus (Mk 1.41; 1.43; 3.5; 6.6; 8.12; 10.14; 10.21; 14.33). In other omitted passages Jesus does not know something or is unable to do something (Mk 1.45; 5.9; 5.30; 6.5; 6.38; 6.48; 7.24; 8.12; 8.23; 9.16; 9.21; 9.33; 11.13; 14.14). A number of difficult passages are included, but softened (Mk 1.32–33; 3.10; 3.21; 10.18; 14.58). This editorial cleaning up could have happened at any stage in the textual history, or it may have happened over many stages. While the typical pattern is for the Gospel of Matthew to give more, but in less space, the pattern here is to clean up the script found in the Gospel of Mark. 2.1.5 Summation: A Markan Voice in a Matthean World While the Gospel of Mark provides the general structure and about 56 % of the content of the Gospel of Matthew, a process of reappropriation and relativizing is underway. A new beginning and ending have been added, and five major speeches have been inserted. The opening section of the Gospel of Mark has been rearranged to accommodate these changes. Beyond these structural moves, the Gospel of Matthew has customized the Markan image of discipleship by making them more faithful to the Law and more responsive to Jesus, but also by gathering the concept of discipleship under the idealized image of Peter. The Gospel of Matthew has thus opened up a future for the church and has placed it under the patronage of Peter. The preaching of the gospel to the nations is no longer simply an eschatological sign; in the Gospel of Matthew it will become the primary identity marker and the central function of discipleship and church. Thus, a key component in the composition history of the Gospel of Matthew is the incorporation of this Markan voice into a Matthean world. In doing so, a new understanding of discipleship and a new model of the church is generated. The resulting work no longer reflects a pure Markan voice; neither, however, has the Markan voice been domesticated by the designs of an author or editor. From this dynamic process of critical engagement and reappropriation, a new and distinct Tradition emerges.

13  See especially the treatment by Davies and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, pp. 104–106. They discuss this material in the context of the synoptic problem.

2.0 Competing Traditions within the Gospel of Matthew

119

2.2 A Prophetic Voice in a Matthean World (The Sayings Tradition) Some 22 % of the Gospel of Matthew is drawn from the collected sayings of Jesus and John the Baptist. This collection, likely in Greek in written form, is a tradition with its own values and ideas, its own view of the world. This tradition was almost certainly carried by tradents who serve as its sponsors, proponents, and defenders. The Gospel of Matthew draws a great deal of its content from the Sayings Tradition, but it also evokes its images and ideas and claims. In the Gospel of Matthew the Sayings Tradition is both preserved and relativized. The voice of the wandering prophets has been been given a home within the Gospel of Matthew, where it now stands alongside other voices in a world with differing aims and values. We turn now to the contours and the effects of this generative (and degenerative) process. 2.2.1 A Theology of the Sayings Tradition The Sayings Tradition belongs to the literature of Jewish followers of Jesus.14 Its combination of wisdom sayings and eschatological expectation both draw upon Jewish traditions, but do so in order to articulate the central place of Jesus in God’s salvation. This is evident not only in the form of its sayings, but in the theology and sociology they imply. The Sayings Tradition is noteworthy for what it says about Jesus and John, but it is also noteworthy for its ideas about God, about Israel, and about the role of Jesus in God’s salvation.15 The Sayings Tradition speaks early and rather often of the prophetic ministry of John the Baptist.16 Unlike the synoptic gospels, there is no effort here to diminish the role of John. Christopher Tuckett, for example, finds in the Sayings Tradition a wholehearted support for John’s teaching and a willingness to incorporate the tradition of his teaching into Q itself with no hint that John’s message had been superseded, or rendered in any way invalid, by the ministry of Jesus himself.17 14 Technically speaking, it is probably not correct to speak of these tradents as Jewish Christians, since Jesus is never described as the Christ in this material. These are Jews who follow Jesus. 15 Among the more careful and balanced attempts to describe the thought world of the Sayings Tradition is that of Christopher Tuckett, Q and the History of Early Christianity: Studies on Q (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996). See also Ron Piper, Wisdom in the Q-Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989); The Gospel Behind the Gospels. Current Studies on Q, ed. Ron Piper, (Leiden: Brill, 1994); Ivan Havener, Q: The Sayings of Jesus (Wilmington, Delaware: Michael Glazier, 1987); John Kloppenborg, The Formation of Q (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1987); Dieter Lührmann, Die Redaktion der Logienquelle (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1969). 16  Q 3.7–9; 3.16–17; 7.18–35; 16.16. 17 Tuckett, Early Christianity, p. 109.

120

Chapter Seven: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: Composition

John the Baptist plays two crucial roles in the Sayings Tradition: he places the tradition under the framework of Jewish prophecy, and he initiates the eschatological movement that provides the central drama of the Sayings Tradition. The eschatological aura of John includes both his proclamation about the Coming One and the era of crisis that has begun with his own ministry.18 Eschatology lies at the heart of the Sayings Tradition, especially in its focus on the imminent appearance of the Son of Man. This eschatological tone cannot be easily separated and assigned to a later strata: eschatology appears to be a part of the foundational layers, and it intrudes into various sapiential traditions.19 Eschatological expectation defines the character of John and controls the understanding of Jesus, who is the coming Son of Man. The life and mission of the community is framed in the context of this imminent crisis. Indeed, eschatology appears at the beginning (3.7–9,16–17) and the end (17:23–24,26–30,33–35,37), forming a frame for the Sayings Tradition.20 In addition, Jesus’ instruction to his disciples and his debate with opponents are set in an eschatological context. Thus, the Sayings Tradition is dominated by Jewish eschatological thought in its focus, in its framing, and in its content. This futuristic eschatology serves as the basis for a type of ethical exhortation. In line with the way the Hebrew prophets understand the covenant with Israel, the vision of the future in the Sayings Tradition is designed to bring about changes in the present. The Sayings Tradition directs its sharpest polemic against “this generation” (11.47–51), who are at times presented less favorably than the Gentiles. The rejection of the message of Jesus (and thus of the Sayings Tradition) is presented as a type of violence and is understood as a reflection of the violence suffered by all prophets of God.21 The message of Jesus is understood as a part of the Wisdom tradition, which has suffered a similar history of violence and rejection. In this way a deuteronomistic pattern of history is invoked for the  This dual track is emphasized by Tuckett, Early Christianity, p. 137. such as the Lord’s Prayer are eschatological in their orientation, as are the ethical instructions. The Sayings Tradition does employ some common patterns from Jewish apocalyptic materials, so it is perhaps more appropriate to speak generally of Jewish eschatology rather than to expect conformity to a strictly defined genre of apocalyptic. Eschatology can be traced through the portrait of John the Baptist (3.7–9,16–17), the beatitudes (6.20–23); the end of the Sermon (6.47–49); the parables of mustard seed and leaven (13.18–21); the standards of judgment (11.49–51; 12.8–10; 13.18–21, 23–30, 34–35); the parable of the supper (14.16–24); the parable of the talents (19.12–27); in the message of the kingdom (10.9; 11.2–4,9–13; 12.22–31); the parable of the thief and the servants (12.39–59); the lesson from Noah (17.23–37). Tuckett, Early Christianity, pp. 139–63 surveys such texts, but he also addresses scholarly attempts to diminish the role of eschatology. 20  This frame was noted by T. W. Manson, The Sayings of Jesus (London: SCM Press, 1949). References to the Sayings employ the chapters and verses as they are found in the Gospel of Luke. 21  On the formation of this idea, its widespread use, and its historical validity, see the work of Odil Hannes Steck, Israel und das gewaltsame Geschick der Propheten (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1967). 18

19 Traditions

2.0 Competing Traditions within the Gospel of Matthew

121

message of Jesus, but especially for its rejection by this generation. This pattern is tied specifically to the figure of the Jesus as the Son of Man (7.31–35). This creative characterization of Jesus and the hermeneutic that supports it are rooted in thoroughly Jewish traditions and modes of interpretation: the prophetic view of the covenant and the creative power of Wisdom. The audience of this address are some Jewish followers of Jesus; the opponents are some Jews who have rejected Jesus and his message.22 In light of this eschatology, the Sayings Tradition presents a unique understanding of Jesus. He is the envoy who brings the message of Wisdom.23 In line with this characterization, Jesus is also the rejected prophet, wrapped in images drawn from Isaiah. He is also the Son of Man who suffers violence and rejection at the hands of this generation, but who will come with judgment in the near future. This unique blending of Jewish motifs sustains a portrait of Jesus as God’s rejected messenger. The model for discipleship is shaped by this eschatological view of Jesus. The extraordinary lifestyle demanded of his followers should not be understood in terms of a sectarian philosophy such as Cynicism, but rather as a prophetic strategy and sign in light of the coming end. It should noted, as well, that this lifestyle reflects that of Jesus and that its proponents suffer a rejection similar to his.24 The Sayings Tradition exhibits a rather conservative approach to the Jewish Law. Where Jesus does violate tradition, such as in the Sabbath (14.5), he appeals to a Jewish debate over exceptions to the Sabbath limitations. Torah observance seems, for the most part, to be assumed.25 In correlation with this focus, there seems to be little, if any, interest in a mission to the Gentiles. The Sayings Tradition seems to reflect a strong consciousness of Pharisees. Jesus’ polemic in the Sayings Tradition never questions the validity of Pharisaic rules; indeed, he affirms traditions such as tithing and some form of purity. At the same time, the tension described in the Sayings Tradition also seems to envision Pharisees. This is especially true in the woes pronounced against Pharisees in Q 11.39–42. The polemic, however, seems to suggest the opponents miss the heart of what it means to be a faithful member of Israel. If anything, such opponents are not Jewish enough, and they are condemned primarily because they have rejected or ignored the followers of Jesus. Such images may point to the social and religious context in which the Sayings Tradition emerges.

22 The attempt to see in “this generation” the failure of all of Israel is not convincing. For this position, see Dieter Lührmann, Die Redaktion der Logienquelle. 23  Wisdom is personified in feminine traits in Jewish tradition. She comes among humans to speak God’s message, but is rejected. 24  On the problems with the Cynic motif proposed in some recent scholarship, see Tuckett, Early Christianity, pp. 368–90. 25 See the discussion of specific texts by Tuckett, Early Christianity, pp. 393–424.

122

Chapter Seven: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: Composition

The Sayings Tradition is also noteworthy for what it does not say. There is nothing here of the incarnation or of a divine status for Jesus. Nothing is said of heavenly origins. Equally noteworthy is what is not said about Judaism: there is no critique of the Law and no statement against the Temple. To summarize, the Sayings Tradition articulates a distinct set of ideas and demands. Both John and Jesus are remembered here as Jewish prophets in whom the last act of God’s history with Israel has begun. The tradents of the Sayings Tradition envision a final mission to Israel before the imminent arrival of the Son of Man and the time of judgment. Their traditions suggest this mission has not met with success, but with rejection – or perhaps apathy. Disappointment is expressed through polemic and warning against those in Israel who are unresponsive. From the perspective of the Sayings Tradition, the final verdict is now being handed down. 2.2.2 Summation: A Prophetic Voice in a Matthean World Beyond the issue of content, the Gospel of Matthew has embraced key ideas and strategies from the Sayings Tradition. However, the Gospel of Matthew rejects the final verdict of the Sayings Tradition. In doing so, it realigns both its vision of the future (eschatology) and its concept of the people of God (ecclesiology). The Gospel of Matthew distances itself from the more relaxed approach to the Law voiced by the Gospel of Mark. The Markan discomfort with cultic regulations is articulated on the lips of Jesus, who declares that “the Sabbath was created for humans” (Mk 2.27) and “nothing that goes into a person from the outside can make them unclean” (Mk 7.15). The Gospel of Mark interprets this to mean that Jesus “declared all foods clean” (Mk 7.19). While the Gospel of Matthew appropriates the teaching that clean comes from the heart, the interpration that Jesus declared all foods clean is omitted (Mt 15.17) This omission can be put alongside the insistence that even the least parts of the Law are to be observed (Mt 5.17–20). While the Gospel of Matthew takes up the Markan theme of Jesus’ resistance to cultic requirements, it retains the larger principle of obedience to all of Torah, a principal enunciated by Jesus in the Sayings Tradition. In terms of eschatology, the Gospel of Matthew accepts the terminology of the Sayings Tradition, but not its verdict. The Son of Man imagery that is so central to the Sayings Tradition is employed (Mt 24.27, 37–39). The Gospel of Matthew knows of a tradition in which the Son of Man will return before the mission to Israel has been completed.26 On the other hand, this imminent return is delayed 26 Mt 10.15 and Mt 10.23 appear only in the Gospel of Matthew. It is difficult to know whether this is a part of the Sayings Tradition or whether it belongs to the special material (M) known only in the Gospel of Matthew. The concept, however, that this is the final mission is a part of the Sayings Tradition.

2.0 Competing Traditions within the Gospel of Matthew

123

so that the testimony about Jesus can be taken to the nations (Mt 24.14), and the final commission (Mt 28.16–20) envisions an extended mission to the Gentiles. This negotiation about eschatology has its greatest impact on the formation of ecclesiology. Beyond the realignment of the timeline, the Gospel of Matthew has extended the bounds of the mission to “all the nations” (Mt 28.16–20). It does so in spite of its appropriation of the mission of the Sayings Tradition, which is articulated in Jesus’ insistence that he was sent “only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Mt 15.24) and his command to his disciples to “go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel” (Mt 10.5–6).27 The Sayings Tradition knows of the inclusion of the centurion in Capernaum (Mt 8.5–13), but the story serves primarily to highlight the exclusion of some Jews. Seeing the response of the centurion, Jesus proclaims: Amen. I tell you nowhere in Israel have I found such faith. But I say to you that many from the East and West shall come and recline with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven, But the sons of the kingdom will be cast out into the outer darkness” (Mt 8.10–12).

Since the Sayings Tradition must be reconstructed primarily on documentary grounds by isolating the Double Tradition – sayings from the Gospel of Mark and the Gospel of Luke not found in the Gospel of Mark – it not possible to say how large the sayings collection was.28 Thus, we do not know what percentage was taken over into the Gospel of Matthew. We can say, however, that, at the least, some 22 % of the Gospel of Matthew has come from the Sayings Tradition. This appropriation provides for the Gospel of Matthew the content of Jesus’ teaching. This can be seen in a particular way in the five constructed speeches that have been inserted into the Markan outline. While the call to the Kingdom and the image of Jesus as a powerful teacher has been taken over from the Gospel of Mark, the content of Jesus’ teaching and the standards for the Kingdom come from the Sayings Tradition. On the other hand, the Gospel of Matthew deconstructs the imminent eschatology and narrow ecclesiology of the Sayings Tradition. The Gospel of Matthew extends the time line in order to accommodate its key theme, which is the mis27  Mt 10.5–6 and Mt 15.24 appear only in the Gospel of Matthew and thus are assigned, on documentary grounds, to the special tradition M. Conceptually they are congruent with the thought world of the Sayings Tradition. It may be that this piece of the Sayings Tradition was not appropriated by the Gospel of Luke because it contradicts its central message, developed in full in the book of Acts – the universal nature of the gospel. If so, it appears even more peculiar that the sayings are included in the Gospel of Matthew, since they explicitly contradict its central orientation toward a mission to the Gentiles. 28 See Edwin Broadhead, “On the (Mis)Definition of Q” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 68 (1997), pp. 3–12. In particular, some traditions found only in the Gospel of Matthew may be from the Sayings Tradition and some of the triple tradition of sayings may also originate in the Sayings Tradition.

124

Chapter Seven: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: Composition

sion to the Gentiles. In doing so, it does not eradicate the voice of the prophets of the Sayings Tradition. This remains a dominant voice in the narrative, often in shrill opposition to the universal dimensions of this gospel. This strategic move, in some sense, deconstructs the world of the Sayings Tradition and tunes its voice to another key. At the same time, however, the incorporation of the Sayings Tradition creates chaos and contradiction within the plot line and the conceptual world of the Gospel of Matthew. We will ask later why this is so. For the moment, we are more concerned with how it is so. 2.3 The Voice of Scripture in a Matthean World Davies and Allison offer the following analysis of Old Testament citations and allusions in the Gospel of Matthew.29 17 39 21   4 19 21 50

citations shared by the Gospel of Matthew (Mt) and the Gospel of Mark (Mk) possible allusions common to Mt and Mk number of the 39 Mt/Mk allusions also used by the Gospel of Luke (Lk) citations shared by Mt and Lk, thus from Sayings Tradtion (Q) allusions shared by Mt and Lk, thus from Sayings Tradition (Q) citations peculiar to the Gospel of Matthew allusions peculiar to the Gospel of Matthew

This represents an extraordinary amount, particularly in comparison to the Gospel of Mark. The way these texts are employed is also noteworthy. In terms of citations, 4 seem to have come from the Sayings Tradition, 39 from the Gospel of Mark (with 21 of these also used by the Gospel of Luke). This leaves 21 citations that are peculiar to the Gospel of Mattthew. A few illustrations will show the generative power of these citations within the Gospel of Matthew. The most distinct of these are the formula citations that explain how certain events fulfill Old Testament prophecy (1.22; 2.6; 2.15; 2.17; 2.23; 4.15–16; 8.17; 12.17–21; 13.14; 13.35; 21.4; 27.9–10). Indeed, the Gospel of Matthew claims that this is the reason certain events occurred. God’s history with Israel, then, determines the story of Jesus. What is extraordinary is the variety and inconsistency in the patterns of appropriation. This is especially true in relation to whether a citation is closest to the Greek Old Testament, (the Septuagint) or to the Hebrew text tradition. In the citations found only in the Gospel of Matthew, only 8 of the total of 21 show strong dependence on the Septuagint. Where a citation in the Gospel of Matthew is shared with the Gospel of Mark (and likely dependent upon it), 11 of the 17 instances draw from the Septuagint. In one instance (Mt 11.10c, citing Mal 3.1) both gospels go against the Septuagint. All of these are logical if the Gospel of Matthew appropriated these citations from the Gospel of Mark. There are a few 29 Davies

and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, pp. 29–57.

2.0 Competing Traditions within the Gospel of Matthew

125

occasions where the Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of Mark differ in a citation from each other, but both also differ from the Septuagint. The most unusual situation is when the Gospel of Matthew has a citation that is different from the Gospel of Mark, even though the Gospel of Mark draws from the Septuagint. Here it appears that the citation has been appropriated from the Gospel of Mark, but not the translation. This is true in Mt 19.5, but the differences do not bring the Gospel of Matthew closer to the Hebrew text of the Old Testament. It is also true in Mt 22.37, and here the changes do bring the Gospel of Matthew closer to the Hebrew text. The complexity grows when the Gospel of Luke and possible allusions are added to this mix. It is not necessary to solve these issues in order to recognize the generative potential that is developed when the gospels invoke the voice of the scriptures of Israel. The Gospel of Matthew thus claims, especially in the formula citations, that the events of Jesus’ story happen this way because it was ordained in scripture. The citation in Mt 2.6 demonstrates this. Only in the Gospel of Matthew (Mt 2.1–6) and in the Gospel of Luke (Lk 2.1–7) are we told that Jesus was born in Bethlehem, and the village plays no other role in the New Testament. In the Gospel of Luke the relocation is due to a census. For the Gospel of Matthew, this provides an occasion to cite the text (Mic 5.1,3) and to exploit its political dimensions: “from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel” (Mt 2.6). Because of this connection, the Gospel of Matthew can then cast over the birth of Jesus the shadow of the Exodus story: an anxious king puts to death Hebrew babies for fear of his throne (Mt 2.16–18). This is reinforced by the fulfillment formula explaining the flight and return from Egypt in Mt 2.15: “This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, ‘Out of Egypt have I have called my son.’” Thus, from the Bethlehem citation the Gospel of Matthew has located the birth of Jesus on the geographical map, but it has also given it a place on the political and theological landscape. Such connections have extraordinary hermeneutical power. The birth of Jesus echoes with the scriptures of Israel, but now this story is posed on a higher stage. Even as God has acted upon the nations in the past, so God is now acting for Israel in the story of Jesus. Some questioned in this period whether prophecy had ceased. The Gospel of Matthew insists that it has not, and that it continues precisely in the story of Jesus. For the Gospel of Matthew, the voice of scripture provides the primary means of narration and commentary. The scorn of the prophets is also invoked. The failure to hear Jesus is met with a rebuke from Isaiah (Mt 13.14–15, citing Isaiah 6.9). The Pharisees are called hypocrites in the language of Isaiah (Mt 15.8–9). Through the various citations, the prophets become narrators and commentators within the narrative world of the Gospel of Matthew. There are multiple layers to the generative power behind these citations. To cite Isaiah is not simply to cite the personal authority of a singular figure; it is also

126

Chapter Seven: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: Composition

to invoke the whole of “the prophets” and, in some sense, to invoke the whole of scripture. This effect is multiplied in the Gospel of Matthew when the words are placed on the lips of Jesus. In this way the voice of Jesus has been projected as a new stage of Israel’s history with God. As noted earlier, the most dramatic use of scripture is found in the twofold reference (Mt 9.13 and 12.7) to Hosea 6.6: “Mercy I desire, and not sacrifice.” No other New Testament passage refers to this verse.30 In both Mt 9.13 and 12.7 the Hosea passage is used as commentary on a conflict with a group of Pharisees. In each case the conflict involves Jesus only indirectly, but the disciples directly.31 These citations are noteworthy because they are rare, but they also exhibit an extraordinary Tradition History. The passage in Hosea already stands at odds with the Mosaic code established in the Pentateuch. The God who demanded sacrifice in the Mosaic code now rejects it in the prophets (Hos 6.6; Mic 6.6–8; Amos 5.21–24). This contradiction of scripture against scripture will be played out in other arenas,32 but here the Gospel of Matthew employs it, on the lips of Jesus, in a controversy with those who guard and guide the concept of sacrifice. These passages illustrate the way the voice of scripture, particularly that of the prophets, echoes through the Gospel of Matthew. Whether by citation or allusion, it does so in great quantity and with an extraordinary generative power. The most plausible explanation for this phenomenon is not to be found in a singular author’s intent and design. It is more plausible that this complex hermeneutic emerges from an extended tradition of reflection and interpretation gathered from a variety of texts and traditions across a period of time. 2.4 Local Voices in the Gospel of Matthew (M) The most caustic voice in the Gospel of Matthew comes from inside the house. The material that is unique to the Gospel of Matthew includes editorial work, but also collected traditions. Because this material is found in no other gospels, it can be designated as a local tradition, at least within the world of the narrative. In terms of composition history, there is no sign that it originates outside the orbit of the Gospel of Matthew.33

30 It

is difficult to know if the use of these verses is redactional or reflects a source.  The later section on context of the Gospel of Matthew will consider whether this passage speaks, in a rather transparent way, to conflict between Jesus’ followers and some group of Pharisees at the time of the writing or whether an earlier context is addressed. 32  Various strands of Jewish Christianity believed that sacrifice was not demanded. See Broadhead, Jewish Ways of Following Jesus. 33 It is entirely possible, from a historical perspective, that this material has been brought by tradents from outside the orbit of the Gospel of Matthew. But it is not possible, from a historical perspective, for us to know that. From a formalistic literary perspective, it is not necessary for us to know its origins in order to consider its generative role in the formation of this gospel. 31

2.0 Competing Traditions within the Gospel of Matthew

127

The local voice contains two elements, and it proves difficult to separate tradition from redaction. In some sense the editorial work is also a source. All elements of the special material are, of course, a part of the composition history of the Gospel of Matthew. While Source Criticism tried to shave away the editorial work to identify units of primitive Christian tradition, Redaction Criticism focused on the editorial work as the key to literary and theological design. Recent Literary Criticism has given more attention to the overall design of the narrative, but typically credits the author for this. We are concerned here for the composition history, for how sources and traditions were appropriated into the world of the narrative. While editorial work is present in all aspects of construction, it is particular relevant where no clear source can be identified. To the degree that one can separate out a special collection of materials employed only in the Gospel of Matthew, a few clusters and themes emerge. It is reasonable to ask how this material contributes its voice to the composition of the Gospel of Matthew. 2.4.1 A Variety of Voices within the Special Material The material unique to the Gospel of Matthew contains both collected traditions and editorial work. To the degree that one can isolate traditional material (M), a wide diversity of forms and concepts is evident. The material labeled as M contains tradtions about the birth of Jesus, sayings and parables, isolated passion traditions, and a rather large collection of parables. Beyond the diversity in form, the material is marked by diversity at the conceptual level. There is conflict and contradiction within the special material, and it speaks with many voices. This can be illustrated in Matthew 23. This unit opens with an indicative statement from Jesus that “The scribes and Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat” (Mt 23.1). This is the highest status and authority they could be given. This is followed by a command from Jesus: “Everything then that they might say to you, do and keep.” Here Jesus uses the word τηρεῖν, a term for observing the Law. Jesus has thus asked his followers to keep the Law of Moses by observing the instructions of the Pharisees. This is the clearest articulation of the voice of Jewish orthodoxy. In the next line, Jesus tells his followers “but concerning their works, do not do, for they are speaking and not doing” (Mt 23.3). Following instruction to his followers about the pride of the religious leaders (Mt 23.4–12), Jesus speaks directly to the scribes and the Pharisees. What follows is a carefully constructed pronouncement of Woes (Mt 23.13,15,16, 23,25,27,29). The sevenfold repetition of the literary form is accompanied by a host of images: rabbis, hypocrites, blind guides, blind fools, blind Pharisees, full of camel, really bad dish washers, like whitewashed tombs, lawless, sons of murderers, snakes, brood of vipers, hell-bound, full of blood guilt. After holding the leaders responsible for “all the

128

Chapter Seven: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: Composition

righteous blood shed on earth,” (Mt 23.35), Jesus holds them responsible for the judgment on “this generation” (Mt 23.36) and apparently for the desolation of Jerusalem (Mt 23.38). In conceptual terms, Matthew 23 operates at three contradictory levels. The first level voices an absolute obedience to the Law of Moses (as does Mt 5.17), in the seat of Moses it recognizes the enduring authority of the Law (as does Mt 5.18), and it demands that followers of Jesus keep the Law (as does Mt 5.19). The second level distinguishes faithfulness to the Law from the authority and practice of the scribes and Pharisees (as does Mt 5.20). This motif does not offer condemnation but serves as a distancing motif: do not do what they do (in Mt 5.20 your righteousness must exceed that of the scribes and Pharisees). Because the words and authority are from Moses they are to be kept, but Jesus’ hearers are to ignore the actions of the scribes and Pharisees (exceed them in Mt 5.20). The third level of discourse contains the most vehement and vindictive language in the New Testament. It is vindicative both in form and content, and this rhetoric is directed precisely at those who sit on the seat of Moses (as it is in Mt 5.21–6.34). The arrangement of this material is not simply staged. While it appears that the three conceptual stages are sequential (as in Mt 5–6), there is intermingling. In Mt 23:23 Jesus notes that scribes and Pharisees “tithe mint, dill, and cumin.” This attempt to offer to God a portion of the seeds or leaves of the spices might generate a comic sarcasm. It does not, for Jesus says, “this you ought to do” (Mt 23.23). What is generated instead is a rhetoric of astounding contrast: while counting out the tithe from their spices (an issue not specifically addressed by Mosaic Law), they miss the great prophetic themes of justice and mercy. The generative potential of this staging is extraordinary. Two lines of tradition have been imposed against each other. Within the Gospel of Matthew, of course, the contrast is between Jesus and the religious leadership, specifically the scribes and the Pharisees. To accomplish this, the two groups have been joined into a collective that is not completely representative of their status and function: in the Gospel of Matthew, at least in Matthew 23 (and Mt 5.20) the scribes and the Pharisees have become one group. For the Gospel of Matthew the debate is between Jesus and the scribes and the Pharisees. The tool for this debate, however, is the scriptures of Israel. There is tension within this portrait. The interpretation of the Pharisees (tithing spices) is at best an appropriation and application of the Law of Moses, though Jesus does not challenge it. This is the hermeneutical tension that pervades the Mosaic Law: how does one practice in detail what the Law commands in principle. This will occupy the writers of Leviticus and the generation of Ezra and Nehemiah, and it will unfold in the oral Torah that stands behind the mishnah of the rabbis. In Mt 23.2 Jesus seems to embrace the Pharisaic interpretations that seek the answer to this hermeneutical challenge: they sit

2.0 Competing Traditions within the Gospel of Matthew

129

on the seat of Moses and you should do what they say. Likewise, Jesus embraces their practice of tithing on the spices: “this you ought to do” (Mt 23.23). On the other hand, Jesus commands his disiciples not to follow the practices of the scribes/Pharisees (Mt 23.3) and not to neglect the weightier matters of the Law (Mt 23.23). Who has made the determination of what is weightier, of what is more important within the Law? In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus has. But he has done so my evoking prophetic images of justice and mercy. He has told you, o mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you But to do justice and to love mercy And to walk humbly with your God. (Mic 6.8)

The Gospel of Matthew poses the authority of Jesus over against that of the religious leaders, but it does so by evoking the voice and the message of the prophets. This move, however, evokes another level of contradiction. In the Mosaic Law God demands sacrifice and offerings, while in the prophets God rejects them ( Hos 6.6; Amos 5.23–24; Mic 6.6–8). Sacrifices are rejected in the prophets as a guise for covering bad behavior and as a substitute and deterent to the values that matter: justice, mercy, walking humbly with God, steadfast love, knowledge of God, righteousness. There may also be present here a contrast of places. Some oaths are seen as valid because they invoke the Temple or the altar (Mt 23.16–21). The lives of the Pharisees are also tied to the synagogues (23.6). In addition to the contrast between holy places, there is a sacred versus secular contrast, for the Pharisees also operate in the banquet halls and in the marketplace (and, in Mt 6.5, on the streets). There is also a conflict over titles. The scribes/Pharisees who sit on the seat of Moses are called rabbis, but the followers of Jesus are to avoid this title. Indeed, Jesus designates himself as the Teacher who replaces the rabbis (Mt 23.8). Those named father are replaced by God the Father, and those named Instructor are replaced by the Messiah (Mt 23.10). Another contrast may be invoked. The seat of Moses (Mt 23.1) may be contrasted to “the throne of God” and “the one seated upon it” (Mt 23.22). Thus, a series of contradictions is evoked: Mosaic Law versus prophetic demand; principle versus application; command versus practice; Jesus versus the scribes/Pharisees; temple versus synagogue; synagogue versus the street; Rabbi versus Teacher, father versus Father, Instructor versus Messiah, the throne of Moses versus the throne of God. The conflict between Jesus and scribes/Pharisees has been staged in the Gospel of Matthew through contrast, and this contrast is built on ripples and layers of conflicting traditions. The scene of Jesus’ conflict with the religious leaders in Matthew 23 does not speak with one narrative voice; it echoes with a complex of layered, intermingling, competing voices.

130

Chapter Seven: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: Composition

It is noteworthy that all of these voices of contradiction are found within one strand of tradition that scholarship has labeled as M. The conflict and contradiction over the religion of Israel is not resolved within the M tradition; if anything it is exacerbated. This suggests that the local tradition isolated in M has itself incorporated existing strands of tradition. It holds within its own narrative the conflicting traditions of how one is to be faithful to God. These conflicts are not resolved, but rather incorporated together. The material identified as M is thus a collection of conflicting voices. This exemplary piece, itself a case study in compositional history and in generative potential, then becomes a piece of the composition history of the Gospel of Matthew. The stream that is M flows into the river that is Matthew, intermingling their waters and joining their voices – a process marked by both collusion and collision. The rhetoric of the special material M, as identified and illustrated from Matthew 23, can be seen in various other places. The citation of Hosea 6.6 (“Mercy I desire and not sacrifice”) is found in Mt 9.13 and 12.7, but only here in all of the New Testament. If this belongs to the collection identified as M, it evokes the same set of conflicting voices, and these too are incorporated into the larger world of the Gospel of Matthew. 2.4.2 Summation We will explore in the next chapter how this material projects a rhetorical context or location, and later we will ask if this projected context is congruent with any historical situation. For now, it is important to note the way in which the collected tradition unique to the Gospel of Matthew (M) speaks, in the same proximity, with competing voices. This is not simply a collection of sources, and its inherent conflicts are not erased by any projections of narrative coherence or theological design. This contradiction, engrained within one of the sources for the Gospel of Matthew, has been appropriated – without resolution – into the rhetorical world of this gospel. These competing voices generate a host of collisions and collusions within the text, and this is an important part of the composition history. As such, these conflicting voices are also essential and generative – they become a part of the identity and function of this gospel. 2.5 The Voice of Peter in a Matthean World In the Gospel of Mark, Peter is a character study in failed discipleship. He is a part of the negative characterization of the larger group, but he also stands out. In the Gospel of Mark, Peter confesses Jesus as the messiah (Mk 8.29), but this is followed by a command to silence (Mk 8.30). In the transfiguration scene, Peter is terrified and does not know what to say (Mk 9.6). Peter speaks for the disci-

2.0 Competing Traditions within the Gospel of Matthew

131

ples in Mk 10.28, boasting that they have left everything. Peter seeks to separate himself from the others with his claim, in the face of Jesus’ prophecy, that he would never deny Jesus (Mk 14.29–31). The most poignant failure is narrated in the denial scene (Mk 14.66–72), which concludes with Peter broken and weeping. The Gospel of Mark ends with an enigmatic command to “go and tell his disciples and Peter that he is going before you into the Galilee” (Mk 16.7) and with the stark note that the women told nobody anything (Mk 16.8) In the Gospel of Matthew, Peter embodies the conflicting sides of discipleship. The portrait from the Gospel of Mark has been refined, new material has been added, and Peter has been turned into a role model. Peter is listed as the first of the disciples (Mt 10.1–4; Mk 3.13–19), and he often speaks for the disciples: Peter inquires about paying taxes (Mt 17.24–27), and he asks about the question about forgiveness (Mt 18.21–22). In the Gospel of Matthew, Peter can walk on water (Mt 14.28–31). The most noteworthy revision is the scene at Caesarea Philippi (Mt 16.13–20; Mk 8.27–30). The Markan account, which ends with a command to secrecy about Jesus, has been adapted by extending the confession of Peter. Even more significant is the blessing added to the scene: “Blessed are you Simon Barjona, for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven” (Mt 16.16–17). Moreover, Jesus refers not to Simon but to Peter (rock), then uses his name as a basis for a prophecy: “Upon this rock I will build my church.” Peter will be given the keys to the kingdom of heaven, and the authority to “loose and bind” – likely referring to decisions about regulations for religious life akin to the concerns of Pharisees. In a similar way, the sea crossing story of Mark 6.47–53 has been extended (Mt 14.28–33) to include Peter’s call to Jesus and Peter’s walking on the water (and sinking). After his rescue, Peter confesses to Jesus that “Truly you are the Son of God.” In the transfiguration scene (Mt 17.1–8; Mk 9.2–8) the Gospel of Matthew notes the presence of four, calling Peter by name. But the story omits the note in Mark 9.6 that Peter “did not know what to answer” and that the disciples are filled with fear (ἔκφοβοι). In its place the Gospel of Matthew inserts epiphanic imagery: the disciples fall on their faces in awe (σϕόδρα), then Jesus touches them and commands them to “rise and have no fear” (μὴ φοβεῖσθε). Jesus forbids the disciples to speak of their experience on the mountain until the Son of Man has been raised in Mark 9.9. The Gospel of Matthew has taken over this prohibition (Mt 17.9), but it now looks very different. In the Gospel of Mark it could only be connected to the temporal marker that “it is necessary first for the gospel to be preached to all nations”(Mk 13.10). In the Gospel of Matthew, however, it can be read in the context of the final commission to go and tell the nations – a commission put in place only with the resurrection of Jesus (Mt 28.16–20). Peter’s role in the transfiguration scene may serve as a preview of

132

Chapter Seven: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: Composition

his role in the final scenes, particularly in light of the prophecy about the church built on a rock, the keys to the Kingdom, and the authority to loose and bind. In the Gospel of Matthew there is a link between Jesus’ claim that “all authority has been given to me” (Mt 28.18) and the authority promised to Peter (Mt 16.17–19). Thus, while Peter is a character study in failed discipleship in the Gospel of Mark, his profile in the Gospel of Matthew is both tragic and heroic. Moreover, the Gospel of Matthew extends the characterization of Peter beyond the plotted narrative and into the time of the resurrection and the building of the church. In the Gospel of Matthew, Peter is the disciple closest to Jesus, and he is the disciple who bridges the story of Jesus to the story of the church. Peter may be seen as a representative. His failures represent the fear and failures of the disciples, he speaks for the disciples, and he represents their best moments. In some sense, Peter is also a representative for Jesus, since it is he who first announces that Jesus is the Messiah. Peter is also positioned to become the representative for the church. He will hold the keys to the Kingdom, he will have the authority to loose and bind, and the church will be built on the rock of his confession. These moves increase the profile of Peter, they add positive dimensions to his character, and they generate a new level of leadership and authority.34 Once this role is established, it can shed its light on other portions of the story. It is possible that all of these additions and extensions are editorial work. But is also plausible that there is a living tradition of Peter’s struggles as a disciples as well as a living tradition of his work after the death of Jesus. These images of Peter have been appropriated and constructed within the framework of the Gospel of Matthew. This newly formed voice of Peter is marked by contradiction, but it proves to be a key voice in the framing of the story of Jesus and in its connection to the role of the church in the future. This distinctly different voice for Peter proves to be one of the more creative moments in the composition history of the Gospel of Matthew, but also one of the most influential in terms of its generative effect upon the narrative. One effect of this generative process is conflict. There is contradiction within Peter’s character, but there is also irony, and even contradiction, in his role in the narrative. Peter is a Jewish disciple, so he is among those sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. But Peter the confessor will hold the keys to the Kingdom, the authority to loose and bind, and he will be the rock upon which the church is built among the Gentiles. Peter, in the Gospel of Matthew, embodies both the problem and the prospective solution.

34 Some

scholars have explored that idea that this was designed to be the Gospel of Peter.

2.0 Competing Traditions within the Gospel of Matthew

133

2.6 Brackets: The Birth Narrative and the Post-Resurrection Commission Scholars debate whether the birth narrative and the commissioning scene are traditional material or editorial creations. It is almost certain that some blocks of tradition are present, particularly in the birth narrative. The genealogy, the story of Herod and the Magi, and the sojourn in Egypt may all be traditional, but they have been subjected to a great deal of editing. The final commissioning echoes various scenes from the Old Testament, but also material from within the Gospel of Matthew. Beyond the question of the degree to which these are received traditions or constructed traditions, their role in the history of composition is crucial. They serve as brackets to frame the world of the narrative, but they also encompass the various traditions that have been incorporated into the narrative. Their role as brackets generates a primary interpretive framework for the story of Jesus. Matthew 1.1–2.23 places the birth of Jesus in the lineage the heroes of Israel. Scripture citation places him in the prophetic heritage. The fear of Herod invokes numerous Old Testament passages where the kings and nations tremble before Yahweh. The opening section also has a universal ethos. The arrival of the Magi with gifts embodies the Old Testament motif of the nations streaming to Zion to learn of the Lord. The Gospel of Matthew thus signals that the hopes of both Israel and the nations are to be found in the story of Jesus. The commissioning scene stands in contrast to this imagery. By all appearances, the mission to Israel has failed and the leadership of Israel has rejected the one sent by God. This is given dramatic expression in the Woes of chapter 23, but also in the eschatological discourse of Mt 24. The parables of the wasted talents (25.14–30) and of the great judgment (Mt 25.31–46) articulate the destiny of those from Israel who have rejected Jesus’ call. The final commission represents a dramatic shift in the makeup of Jesus’ followers. Jewish disciples are commanded to go and build a church from the nations. The final commission contradicts Jesus’ earlier limitation of his ministry and that of his disciples to Israel only. Moreover, the flow of history is reversed. While many Old Testament passages envision the nations streaming to Zion, going to the nations is typically an image of exile. Here the flow is reversed: those who remain in Zion have rejected God’s messenger, and those who have accepted are sent streaming to the nations. These two units bracket the story of Jesus as the Jewish messiah sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. This bracket is congruent with various pieces of the story, but its universalism contradicts the dominant worldview of the narrative. These brackets are strategically placed, however, and they generate a new trajectory through the story of Jesus. This process is of decisive importance for the composition of this gospel, but even more so for its identity and function.

134

Chapter Seven: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: Composition

2.7 Summation: The Confluence and Competition of Voices in the Gospel of Matthew The varied sources that have been gathered into the Gospel of Matthew are living traditions with their own voice. Indeed, some of these traditions, such as the special materials labeled as M, already contain within themselves the dissonance of competing voices. The gathering of these living traditions into the Gospel of Matthew represents more than an assemblage of building blocks. This process is more like a confluence of streams, with various patterns of intermingling. It is true in this instance that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, but it is also true that the parts are changed when they are incorporated into the whole. Incorporating a living tradition into another narrative context both preserves and destroys the tradition. It has been relativized by its assimilation. At the same time, the narrative world has been infected by the values and views of the traditions it assimilates. I have argued that the Gospel of Matthew is constituted around competing traditions. The Gospel of Mark brings content and structure, but it also brings a lax view toward cultic law and some foundational elements of Judaism. The Sayings Tradition brings the teaching of Jesus and faithfulness to Torah, but it also brings a truncated view of eschatology and a narrow understanding of ecclesiology. The citation of scripture casts the narrative against the backdrop of God’s history with Israel, but it often does so in a deterministic or judgmental way. The special traditions known as M exhibit three levels of response toward the Pharisaic tradition: absolute respect, distance, disdain. The character of Peter is a case study in contradiction. The constructed units of the birth narrative and the final commission serve as brackets, but their universalism contradicts the conceptual world that dominates in the body of the story. Attempts to ameliorate this conflict through appeals to authorial intent or literary coherence are unconvincing. The composition history of the Gospel of Matthew is built upon the gathering of traditions, and the confluence of those traditions does not silence their voices. Neither does it ameliorate the dissonance caused by these competing traditions. Indeed, in some places the editorial work has enhanced this dissonance. This gathering of traditions is not simply genealogical or anecdotal. The confluence of competing voices is an essential element of the Gospel of Matthew, and later chapters will show that it is a key component of the identity and function of this gospel.

3.0 A Jewish Voice in a Gentile World or a Gentile Voice in a Jewish World?

135

3.0 A Jewish Voice in a Gentile World or a Gentile Voice in a Jewish World? To focus the issue more sharply, the Gospel of Matthew hosts conflicting images of what it means to be Jewish. Some elements represent a conservative understanding of the Jewish Law and affirm a Pharisaic interpretation. Other elements condemn the Pharisees, including their interpretation. Ultimately, the power to loose and bind – to interpret God’s commands and to regulate daily life – is seen as a messianic function that will be handed over to the church and to those in Peter’s orbit. A similar contradiction is built around the Gentiles. In the Gospel of Matthew a Gentile centurion has faith like none in Israel, and the story ends with a commission to all nations. On the other hand, Gentile is a demeaning term, with few positive expectations. One could ask, then, whether the Gospel of Matthew presents a Jewish voice in a Gentile world, or does it present a Gentile voice in a Jewish world. As recent scholarship has shown, the question is easier to ask than to answer. In the next chapter we will take the first steps toward an answer. In what sense does the Gospel of Matthew project a context for this work and its world of competing voices? Does this projected context have any connection to any historical reality? We turn next to these questions.

Chapter Eight

The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Projected Context I have argued that the collection of traditions into a work with a new narrative world is not simply genealogical; it is essential and it holds generative potential. One of the generative elements at work within a text is its projection of a context. Narratives create a sense of place, time, and values, and these projections constitute, within the narrative itself, an image of the world.1 Perhaps the most creative example of this process is the world of Middle Earth projected in the works of J. R. Tolkien.2 Do the competing voices within the Gospel of Matthew project such a world? Do they map for the reader a sense of place and time and values? After examining the context projected within the Gospel of Matthew, we can ask if this worldview is congruent with any historical reality beyond the text. In the Gospel of Matthew the story of Jesus and his followers occurs in a time and place and in a world laden with values. Beyond simply cataloguing these elements, is it possible to map the context that is projected in the Gospel of Matthew? Here I seek to illustrate its basic contours.

1.0 Projection of Place in the Gospel of Matthew The Gospel of Matthew locates the story of Jesus within a world of villages and towns, deserts and cities, and a variety of other geographical settings. A catalogue of these places would include Israel, Egypt, Judea, Galilee, Bethlehem, Nazareth, Capernaum, Jerusalem, Sodom and Gomorrah, and many others. The list would also include sacred sites such as the synagogue and the Temple. Mountains provide a key location for temptation, teaching, and commission. Various kingdoms are mentioned. Maps, however, are more than indexes – they are interpretive representations of the landscape. In the Gospel of Matthew places on the map become places in the story, creating various levels of representation and interaction. Beyond this, 1 We have moved here into the realm of semiotics – how narratives, through their formal transactions, create signs. I have applied this to the Gospel of Mark in a number of works. 2  Some of his books contain a map of Middle Earth.

1.0 Projection of Place in the Gospel of Matthew

137

I will show later that the categories of time and place and value often overlap and intermingle. The generative potential is extraordinary – the interplay of place with place, place with time, place with value, and much more. A comprehensive analysis of the projection of place within the Gospel of Matthew would provide a complex and interesting study. Here I can only illustrate this component by looking at the representation of sacred space, the place of mountains, and the role of journeys. 1.1 The Representation of Sacred Space One illustration of how the Gospel of Matthew projects its context can be seen in the articulation of sacred spaces. These include Jerusalem, the Temple, the synagogue, the house, the church, the Kingdom of Heaven. The city of Jerusalem represents conflicting images in the Gospel of Matthew. Jerusalem is the likely reference of “the holy city” of the temptation story. Jerusalem is the destiny of Jesus (Mt 16.21), and he will die there. Jesus desires to gather the children of Jerusalem in Mt 23.37–39, but he mourns her history of rejecting and killing the messengers of God. The conflict in Jerusalem does not await his arrival, but comes to meet him on his way (Mt 15.1–2). His movement toward Jerusalem evokes the prophecy of his suffering and death (Mt 20.17). A similar dissonance is presented by the Temple. As a physical entity, the Jerusalem Temple provides a backdrop for the teaching of Jesus and for his last days. Jesus enters the Temple in Mt 21.23 and is asked for his teaching credentials. An extended session of debate and teaching continues from Mt 21.24 through 24.2. Upon his departure from the Temple, Jesus predicts its demise (Mt 24.1–25.46). This extended teaching unit is marked by judgment: the weeping and gnashing of teeth (Mt 24.51) and eternal punishment (Mt 25.46). Invoking the voice of the prophet Daniel, the desecration of the Temple is foretold (Mt 24.15). Following this extended teaching and this condemnation, Jesus never returns to the Temple. The destruction of the Temple will become a charge against Jesus at his trial (Mt 26.61), and Judas throws the blood money into the Temple (Mt 27.5). Thus, the Temple is projected, in the Gospel of Matthew, in conflicting ways. It is an impressive structure and the place of God, but it is also, in the Gospel of Matthew, the place where Jesus the Messiah was rejected by the leadership of Israel. Furthermore, the Temple charge against Jesus is framed from his prophecy of the destruction of the Temple. This dissonance is clearly voiced in the scene with the disciples in Mt 24.1. They point out the beauty of the Temple; Jesus responds that it is destined for destruction. The synagogues are a place of teaching and healing in the Gospel of Matthew.3 They contain the seat of Moses, and from there the Pharisees interpret and regu3  They are likely not yet primarily places of prayer in Palestine at the time of Jesus, but more like community centers.

138 Chapter Eight: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Projected Context late. The synagogues are also the place of Jesus’ ministry (Mt 4.17; 9.25). At the same time, in this gospel synagogues are among the places where Pharisees practice their hypocrisy (Mt 6.54). Jesus and his followers experience the synagogues as places of conflict and rejection, and the text can refer to “their” synagogues or “your” synagogues (4.23; 9.35; 10.17; 12.9; 13.54; 23.34). Jesus experiences rejection in the synagogue in Mt 12.9–14, then in the synagogue of his hometown in Mt 13.54–58. When the disciples are sent out, Jesus warns them: “they will hand you over to councils and flog you in their synagogues” (Mt 10.17). The eschatological woes from the Gospel of Mark (Mk 13.9) are thus appropriated here as a part of the mission of the disciples to the villages of Israel. The Gospel of Matthew projects the synagogue as a place of conflict and persecution for Jesus’ followers, even during his lifetime. The Gospel of Matthew also projects onto the story a sacred place that does not yet exist. Different scenes provide plans for the church (“upon this rock I will build” in Mt 16.18) and also guidelines for its behavior (Mt 18.15–17). The authority of the church is also chartered: it has the power to loose and bind (Mt 16.18–19; 18.18–20) and it has the keys to the Kingdom (Mt 16.19). In this way the Gospel of Matthew contrasts the place of the Temple and the synagagoue with the place of the church – a future entity already under construction. The ultimate sacred space projected by the Gospel of Mathew is the Kingdom of Heaven. While the Kingdom comes near in the teaching and healing of Jesus, it is also a future reality. It is the task of the disciple of Jesus, in the space between the time of Jesus and the coming future, to pray “your Kingdom come on earth as in heaven” (Mt 6.10). On the other hand, the “sons of the kingdom” will be thrown out of Abraham’s banquet (Mt 8.12). A full catalogue of projected spaces in the Gospel of Matthew would be extensive. More important than the catalogue, however, would be a grammar of the way these spaces interact through collusion and conflict. The generative potential of this process is immense. Analysis of the way in which the Gospel of Matthew projects these sacred spaces confirms this potential. Thus, the Gospel of Matthew projects a variety of sacred spaces, including Jerusalem, Temple, synagogue, church, Kingdom. The description of these sites is marked by contrast and contradiction. Through various locales in the story of Jesus, the Gospel of Matthew projects a context that is marked by conflict. 1.2 The Role of Mountains In the Gospel of Matthew a distinct space is claimed for climactic scenes such as epiphanies, temptation, instruction, commission. This is the role of the mountain in the Gospel of Matthew. In the temptation scene, Jesus is taken up to a high mountain from which one can see all the kingdoms of earth and their splendor (Mt 4.8). This constructed

1.0 Projection of Place in the Gospel of Matthew

139

place and the staged dialogue echo with the scriptures of Israel. Jesus resists the offer of the kingdoms, quoting to Satan a passage from Deuteronomy 6.13: “The Lord your God you shall worship, and serve God alone.” At this point, the devil departs, and Jesus is served by angels. In Mt 5–7 Jesus withdraws from the crowds and takes his four disciples “up to the mountain.” From there he instructs them in the way of the Kingdom. At the heart of his discourse is the Law, invoking images of Moses and Mount Sinai. Six days after Peter’s confession at Caesarea Philippi (Mt 16.13–20), Jesus takes Peter, James, and John and “led them up a high mountain” (Mt 17.1–9). There Jesus is transfigured before them, and Moses and Elijah appear. The voice from heaven declares Jesus as the Beloved Son, and the disciples fall to the ground in fear. The disciples are to tell no one of this epiphanic event until after the resurrection of the Son of Man. From the Mount of Olives, Jesus delivers the eschatological discourse and a series of parables (Mt 24.3–25.6). This discourse is both prophecy (24.3–51) and instruction (Mt 25.1–46). At the end of the gospel, the mountain is an appointed place (Mt 28.16). Here the disciples see the risen Christ and hear his instruction. The authority rejected in the mountaintop scene of Mt 4.8 is here claimed by Jesus: “all authority has been given to me in heaven and upon earth.” On this mountain, the disciples are given a new mission, a new ritual of initiation, and a new confession. They are sent to teach observance of the teaching of Jesus. In the Gospel of Matthew these mountaintop scenes provide the key points of reference for the larger story line. Drawing deeply upon the conceptual world of the Old Testament, they are used to show who Jesus is: faithful to the one God of Israel, the Beloved Son, the prophet of the future, and the one who provides the charter and the authority for the mission to the nations. These scenes reveal who Jesus is and, in Mt 5–7, what he taught. There is no discernible conflict between the mountain scenes. They do, however, stand in sharp contrast to life on the plains below. The temptation scene, with the devil quoting scripture from the pinnacle of the Temple and the mountaintop view of all the earth, has no real connection to the contours and realities of Jesus’ work among the villages of the Galilee. The Sermon on the Mount is addressed to four disciples, but appreciated by the crowds. The three who witness the transfiguration are not allowed to speak of it until later. There is no return to the plains narrated after the final scene. This geographical separation is not incidental. The events on the mountain happen, in some sense, above the world of the story line, and they stand in contrast with everyday values and experiences and expectations. These scenes thus project a new context onto the narrative and generate new levels of meaning for the story: they reveal who Jesus is, what he teaches, and what the future holds.

140 Chapter Eight: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Projected Context 1.3 The Dynamics of Journey In the Gospel of Matthew, places can serve a representative role. This was seen in spaces that are sacred or epiphanic. In addition to their representative role, which can be a static symbol, the Gospel of Matthew also links various geographical locations through the dynamic of journey, generating another level of representation and interplay. The opening scenes of the gospel evoke a long and complex journey to Jesus’ home in Capernaum. The story begins with Abraham (Mt 1.2). A genealogy is narrated, but genealogies are not simply lists: they are journeys through time and place. The journey begins with Abraham, the patriarch who heard God’s call to traverse from Haran to Israel – ”the land I will show you.” The genealogy journeys next to Babylon, then to Israel, the birthplace of the Messiah (Mt 1.12,17). The account of Jesus’ birth (Mt. 1.18–2.23) is also a story of migration. The child is born in Bethlehem, a location determined by prophecy (Mt 2.5–6). Magi travel from the East to Jerusalem, then are directed to Bethlehem. Because of Herod, they go home “by another way.” Joseph and Mary flee to Egypt (Mt 2.13–15). The genocide committed by Herod evokes the voice of Rachel, whose weeping was “heard in Ramah” (Mt 2.16–18). The angel commands Joseph to take the family from Egypt and to “go to the land of Israel” (Mt 2.20). Joseph is afraid to go to Judea, so he travels instead to the Galilee. The move to Nazareth is determined by the prophets (Mt 2.23). The place of John the Baptist is the wilderness (Mt 3.1). His words evoke another journey – the return of Israel from Exile (Mt 3.3). The people journey from Jerusalem to the Judean desert, to the Jordan, to hear John, evoking further images of Exile and return (Mt 3.5–6). Jesus begins his own journey in Mt 3.13, for he is not yet home. He travels from the Galilee to the Jordan (3.13), then into the wilderness (Mt 4.1). The representational value of this note is clear, since Jesus was already in the wilderness. He is moving from the wilderness of John to the wilderness of the devil (Mt 4.1–11). The sojourn in the wilderness contains it own journey. After being tempted in the wilderness (Mt 4.3–4), Jesus is taken to the holy city and to the Temple (Mt 4.5–7). From there he is taken to a “very high mountain” (Mt 4.8–11). Jesus’ journey home is not yet complete. He withdraws from Judea to the Galilee (Mt 4.12), but then he leaves Nazareth (Mt 4.13). It was ultimately in Capernaum that Jesus “made his home” (Mt 4.13). It is clear, however, that Capernaum is more than a place on the map or a point on the journey. A great deal of representation and value are generated around this location. Capernaum is a part of the tribal map of Israel: it is in the land of Zebulon and the land of Naphthali. It is “on the road by the sea,” it is “beyond the Jordan,” it is in the

1.0 Projection of Place in the Gospel of Matthew

141

Galilee, and it is in the land of the Gentiles (Mt 4.15). This, for the Gospel of Matthew, is the precise place on earth where the dawn will occur: “the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and the shadow of death, light has dawned upon them” (Mt 4.16) Through this complex itinerary, stretching from ancient Haran to the Galilee, Jesus has come home to Capernaum. The first thing he does is leave. Another journey begins in Mt 4.23, and its representational value is evident. Jesus journeys “throughout the Galilee,” a journey that is paradigmatic of his ministry of teaching, preaching, healing (Mt 4.23). In the Gospel of Matthew, the journey through the villages of the Galilee locates the place of the Kingdom of Heaven. When Jesus proclaims that “the Kingdom of Heaven is near” (Mt 4.17), the place where it draws near is Jesus, the place of Jesus is seen in his journey among the synagogues, and the place of his journey is the Galilee. This paradigmatic summary will be repeated in Mt 9.25, with a focus on the cities and villages.4 These two summaries provide a bracket for the ministry of Jesus in the villages of the Galilee. Between these two summaries the Kingdom of Heaven is demonstrated in Jesus’ teaching in the Sermon on the Mount (Mt 5–7) and in the collected miracle stories (Mt 8–9). In this way, the journey through the Galilee frames the coming near of the Kingdom in the words of Jesus and in his deeds. This illustrates the generative potential of place and the way that a narrative can project a context for its story. In the Gospel of Matthew, the atlas is not simply an index of cities, but rather a landscape through which Jesus journeys. The journey motif is developed in another direction. The journey of the Magi evokes the Old Testament theme of the nations streaming to Zion to learn of the Lord (Isa 56.3–8; 60.1–11; Mic 4.1–4). In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of all the mountains, and shall be raised up above the hills. Peoples shall stream to it, and many nations shall come and say: “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths,” For out of Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. (Mic 1.1–2)

This theme will also be suggested by the centurion who comes to Jesus. Lest this be missed, Jesus declares “Never in Israel have I met such faith” (Mt 8.10). The same image is present in the story of the Canaanite women who comes to Jesus for healing (Mt 15.21–28, where Jesus goes to the region). Despite his focus on her foreign status, Jesus heals her because of her faith. This streaming imagery is developed around the ministry of Jesus. After the announcement of the Kingdom (Mt 4.17) and the paradigmatic summary (Mt 4.23), a report is given of those streaming to Jesus. They come from Syria, from the Galilee, from the Decapolis, from Jerusalem, from Judea, and from beyond the Jordan (Mt. 5.24–25). This 4 See

also Mt 11.1.

142 Chapter Eight: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Projected Context motif casts its light upon the saying of Jesus in Mt 11.28: “Come unto me all you that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me …” There is also an eschatological perspective developed around the streaming imagery. Jesus points to the day when “many will come from the East and the West and recline at the table with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob” (Mt 8.11). This journey motif is also tied to discipleship. When the circle of Jesus’ journey through the Galilee is closed by the brackets of Mt 4.23 and 9.25, then the journey of the disciples begins. In Mt 10.1–23, the Twelve are sent to minister to the villages of Israel (10.6). A similar commission will constitute the final scene of the gospel (Mt 28.16–20). 1.4 Summation In the Gospel of Matthew the story of Jesus and his followers occurs in a time and place and in a world with values. The projection of place is illustrated by the representation of sacred space, by the role of mountains, and by the journey motif. Through these various techniques – and many more – the Gospel of Matthew projects a context for the story of Jesus. In the Gospel of Matthew, this landscape is inhabited by contrast and conflict.

2.0 Projection of Time in the Gospel of Matthew In the Gospel of Matthew the story of Jesus and his followers occurs in a time and place and in a world filled with values. The representation of time in the Gospel of Matthew presents a dialectic between then and now, but also between conflict and hope. 2.1 The Representation of the Past The Gospel of Matthew invokes the history of Israel as the backdrop for its story of Jesus. It does so in a variety of ways, with differing effects. The genealogy of Jesus is (Mt 1.1–17) is constructed around three eras of fourteen generations: from Abraham to David; from David to the Exile; from the Exile to the Messiah (1.17). At the end of these epochs stands the birth of Jesus, the Messiah (Mt 1.18). The past, as represented in the genealogy, is filled with the heroes of Israel’s history: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, David, Solomon, Hezekiah. The past is also inhabited by victims (Tamar, the wife of Uriah), by foreigners (Rahab, Ruth, the wife of Uriah), and by scoundrals (Jacob, David, Judah). The Gospel of Matthew also invokes the age of prophecy. The story of Jesus is determined by prophetic utterance (fulfillment formulae are found in Mt 1.22;

2.0 Projection of Time in the Gospel of Matthew

143

2.6; 2.15; 2.17; 2.23; 4.15–16; 8.17; 12.17–21; 13.14; 13.35; 21.4; 27.9–10). For the Gospel of Matthew, the character of Jesus is revealed in the words of the prophets. The prophets from the past also provide a type of narrative commentary, explaining the role of Bethlehem (Mt 2.6), bringing to the story the voice of mourning (Rachel’s lament in Mt 2.18) and expectation (John the Baptist in Mt 3.3). The dawning light that falls upon Galilee and the Gentiles is welcomed in the words of the prophet (Mt 3.15–16). The ancient prophetic voice is also marked by judgment and condemnation. Jesus’ declaration that “I came not to bring peace, but a sword” (Mt 10.34) is interpreted through the words of Micah: For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law, and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household. (Mic 7.6)

Those who do not understand the parables are described, in the words of Isaiah, as blind and deaf (Mt 13.14–15). The Pharisees are scolded in the words of Isaiah for hypocrisy, vain worship, teaching human precepts as doctrine (Mt 15.8–9). Jesus quotes the words of Jeremiah as he drives the merchants from the Temple and overturns the tables of the money changers (Mt 21.12). The eschatological crisis is described in the words of Joel, Isaiah, and Ezekial (Mt 24.29). Zechariah’s image of the stricken shepherd and the scattered sheep describes Jesus’ destiny (Mt 26.31). Jeremiah’s words and images from Zechariah are used to describe the blood money taken by Judas (Mt 27.9–10). Those who demand a sign from Jesus will receive only the sign of Jonah (Mt 12.38–42). Israel’s prophetic past is brought into the present through the figure of John the Baptist (Mt 3.1–12). In his message are found both hope and warning. In John the Baptist, Elijah has come, and he has been rejected (Mt 11.13–14; 17.10–13). Israel’s past includes the voice of the prophets, but also those who murdered the prophets. This theme is recalled, then leveled as a judgment against the Pharisees (Mt 23.29–39). Thus, the Gospel of Matthew creates a double dialectic: between those whom the prophets praise and those whom they condemn, then between the prophets and those who kill the prophets. Other voices from the past join their voices with the prophets and their opponents. The voice of Moses is invoked, particularly in the temptation story (Mt 4.1–11). While the devil quotes the Psalms (Mt 4.6, quoting Ps 91.11), Jesus quotes Deuteronomy (Mt 4.4,7,10). At various points, the story of Jesus is guided by the Psalms, which presumes the voice of David (Mt 22.44, for example). The days of Noah are recalled in Mt 24.36–39. The transfiguration scene invokes both Moses and Elijah (Mt 17.1–9). Mt 19.8 invokes an ideal time before Moses, when there was no divorce. The fate of Sodom is recalled (Mt 11.23–24 ), as are the people of Ninevah, the queen of the South, and Solomon (Mt 12.41–42).

144 Chapter Eight: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Projected Context Thus, the Gospel of Matthew invokes various voices from Israel’s history: the genealogy, the prophets and those who kill them, and other voices. These various scenes and techniques generate a representation of the past and narrate the story of Jesus against the backdrop of Israel’s history. 2.2 The Representation of the Present The Gospel of Matthew also constructs a representation of the present age. Jesus’ declaration that “the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand” (Mt 4.7) marks the present era as the key moment in Israel’s history. The uniqueness of this age is confirmed in the commission of Mt 10. When the disciples are sent to the villages of Israel, they are told “you will not have gone through all the towns of Israel before the Son of Man comes” (Mt 10.23). Some from this generation are told they will not taste death before the Son of Man comes (Mt 16.28). The people of the present era are blessed, because they hear and see what the prophets and righteous of the past longed to see and hear (Mt 13.17). Standing in sharp contrast are the multiple condemnations of “this generation” or “this evil generation.” They will neither dance nor mourn (Mt 11.17). Because they demand a sign from Jesus, this generation is evil and adulterous (Mt 12.39; 16.4). In response to the inability of the disciples to heal, Jesus answers “You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you? How much longer must I put up with you?” (Mt 17.17). At the end of the pronouncement of the woes against the Pharisees, Jesus tells them that “all of the righteous blood shed on earth” will be held against “this generation” (Mt 23.34–36). This dual representation of the present age could not stand in sharper contradiction. In this era the Kingdom of Heaven has drawn near, Elijah has come, and the Son of Man is soon to appear. The people of this time hear and see what the prophets could only long for. But this is also the evil generation. This generation is wicked and adulterous, and it will be held guilty for all the righteous blood ever shed. 2.3 The Representation of the Future The representation of the future in the Gospel of Matthew is also marked by dissonance and contradiction. The future represents both hope and catastrophe, there is a near and distant future, and the role of the Son of Man and the church in that future is conflicted. There is a contradictory representation of the time of the Son of Man. He will come before the mission to Israel is completed (Mt 10.23), and some from this generation will live to see it (Mt 16.27–28). On the other hand, the coming of the Son of Man is delayed until after the age of eschatological woes (Mt 24.8,29–31), and he will come after the mission to the nations (24.14).

3.0 Projection of Value in the Gospel of Matthew

145

The figure of the Son of Man embodies a second dissonance. He comes in judgment, but he also comes with redemption (Mt 24.30–31). The future coming of the Son of Man represents, at the same time, both hope and disaster. This is true as well of the church. In the future the church will be built upon the rock, it will hold the keys to the Kingdom, it will loose and bind, heaven and hell will not prevail against it (Mt 16.18–19). The church will take its message about Jesus to the Gentile world (Mt 24.14; 28.16–20). This stands in contrast to its internal tensions, which will be resolved by treating the offender as a Gentile or a tax collector (Mt 18.17). 2.4 Summation: The Representation of Time in the Gospel of Matthew The Gospel of Matthew thus tells the story of Jesus in a time and place. Jesus’ story and the story of the church are narrated against the backdrop of Israel’s past. This past is represented through the genealogy, through the voice of the prophets, and in various other figures. This past is a conflicted one, filled with heroes, victims, and scoundrals. The prophets both praise and condemn. The past belongs not only to the prophets but to those who killed them. So it is with the present in the Gospel of Matthew. The present generation is, at the same time, the most blessed and the most wicked and perverse. Upon this generation come the realization of the dreams of the prophets and the righteous, but also the guilt for their blood. The Gospel of Matthew represents a future that is both near and distant. It envisions an era in which the church will be empowered to bear witness to the nations and will be harshly persecuted for doing so, almost to the point of extinction. The Son of Man will come soon and not too soon. His arrival will be a crisis, but he will also gather the elect into his Kingdom. The representation of time generated within the Gospel of Matthew is thus marked by dissonance, conflict, and contradiction. Past, present, and future share alike in this conflicted representation. For the Gospel of Matthew, it was the best of times, and it was the worst of times.

3.0 Projection of Value in the Gospel of Matthew The story of Jesus is told in a world laden with values. This too is a part of the context constructed for and by the story of Jesus. A few key values will be illustrated and their generative effect examined. 3.1 Righteousness and Hypocrisy Righteousness is the primary value in the opening sections of the Gospel of Matthew. Joseph does not expose Mary to disgrace because he is a righteous

146 Chapter Eight: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Projected Context man (Mt 1.19). It is Joseph who stands at the end of the long genealogy (Mt 1.16) before the birth of the Messiah, and he is addressed by the angel as “son of David” (Mt 1.20). Joseph is noted for his obedience to the instructions from God (Mt 1.24–25; 2.13–15; 2.19–23). He then disappears from the story. Joseph is never shown in the Temple or the synagogue, nor is there any attention to rituals or regulations. For the Gospel of Matthew, Joseph embodies righteousness simply in his obedience to God and in his protection and support for Jesus, the Messiah. A similar righteousness is assigned to John the Baptist without mention of Temple piety or the Law. Although John the Baptist objects to baptizing Jesus, he is instructed to do so because it is fitting “to fulfill all righteousness” (Mt 3.14–15). This value is highlighted as one of the blessings from the Sermon. Here the focus is not on righteousness itself, but on those who hunger and thirst for it (Mt 5.6). The practice of righteousness, however, is discussed in the heart of the Sermon in Mt 6. Various practices are presumed as acts of righteousness: alms, prayer, fasting. The question here is how one should practice these acts. Two patterns are contrasted: doing things to be seen by others and doing things in secret so that only the Father may see. Two corresponding rewards are described: the reward from humans or the reward from God. The circulation of this image through the Sermon on the Mount has its center in the teaching of Jesus on the Law (Mt 5.17–20). After declaring his absolute commitment to the Law and calling his followers to keep the least of its demands, Jesus defines a new standard for righteousness. The first part of Mt 5.17–20 stands in dialogue with the Law of Moses: those in the Kingdom are to do and teach the Law. But the latter part of Mt 5.17–20 stands in relation to the scribes and Pharisees as guardians of the Law. Jesus tells his follows that “Unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter into the Kingdom of Heaven” (Mt 5.20). In the first section of the Gospel of Matthew, with its focus on Jesus’ ministry of the Kingdom in his words (Mt 5–7) and in his deeds (Mt 8–9), righteousness is the key value. From the positive side, righteousness is defined in the obedience of David’s son Joseph, in quiet acts of piety, and in obedience to the Law. From the negative side, it is defined in contrast to the scribes and Pharisees. This generates a new connection for this value. In the Gospel of Matthew, the opposite of righteousness is not unbelief, but hypocrisy. This can be seen in various passages that critique the religious attitudes and practices, not of Gentiles, but of Jews – and usually of Jewish religious leaders (Mt 6.5,16; 22.18). Righteousness may be found in the simple obedience of pious Jews such as Joseph and John the Baptist. This definition carries an important generative effect. For the Gospel of Matthew, the debate over righteousness occurs within the house of Israel. This teaching on righteousness belongs almost exclusively to the opening sections of the gospel (Mt 1–9).

3.0 Projection of Value in the Gospel of Matthew

147

The critique of the scribes and Pharisees, however, endures and will come to its summit in chapter 23. Here the focus is again on the attitudes and practices of scribes and Pharisees, and hypocrisy is again the major charge against them (Mt 23.13,23,25,28,29). Other terms now fill out the charge of hypocrisy: blind fools, blind guides, whitewashed tombs, lawless, murderers. In this way the Gospel of Mathew constructs a distinct grammar of its key values. The conflict between righteousness and hypocrisy illustrate this generative process. Righteousness, in the Gospel of Matthew, is found ultimately in obedience to the Law as it is interpreted and taught by the Messiah.5 This conflict between the greater righteousness taught by Jesus (Mt 5.20) and the hypocrisy of those who oppose him occurs fully within the house of Israel. A similar generative process is a work on other terms. 3.2 Faith and its Opposites Faith is an elusive value in the Gospel of Matthew. This is a Jewish value, but it plays no clear role in the beatitudes or in other portions of the Sermon. The first reference to faith stands fully outside all presumptions and expectations. The first identification of faith is in relation to a healing story (Mt 8.5–13), and here Jesus lauds the faith of a Gentile: “Amen. I say to you in no one have I found such faith in Israel.” (Mt 8.10). This blessing on the faith of the Gentile becomes a condemnation of the faith of Israel: For I say to you that many from the East and West shall come and shall recline at table with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the Kingdom of Heaven. But the sons of the kingdom will be cast out into the outer darkness. There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. (Mt 8.11–12)

The closing lines heighten the contrast by emphasis on the faith of the centurion: “‘Go up, as you have believed, so let it be to you.’ And his daughter was healed in that hour” (Mt 8.13). The other key illustration of faith is found in the story of the Canaanite woman (Mt 15.21–29). She addresses Jesus as Son of David and pleads for her daughter to be healed. Although Jesus ignores her, she persists. When Jesus cites to her the exclusionary proverb of the children and the dogs, she argues back. The story then becomes an illustration of faith: Jesus answers “O Woman, great is your faith. Let it be done for you as you requested.” (Mt 15.28). The conclu5 A similar value is generated in a commentary found among the Dead Sea scrolls. Citing the saying from Habakkuk 2.4 that “The righteous shall live by faith” the commentary in 1QpHab 8–11 says “Interpreted, this concerns all those who observe the Law in the House of Judah, whom God will deliver from the House of Judgment because of their suffering and because of their faith in the Teacher of Righeousness.” In contrast to this deliverance, judgment is proclaimed against the Wicked Priest because of “the iniquity committed against the Teacher of Righteousness and the men of his Council.”

148 Chapter Eight: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Projected Context sion echoes the emphasis of the centurion story: “And her daughter was healed from that hour” (Mt 15.28). This same articulation of faith may be found in a Jewish context in Mt 27–31. Jesus responds to the request of the two blind men by saying “According to your faith, let it be done to you” (Mt 9.29). In the Gospel of Matthew, the opposite of faith is not simply unbelief, but fear, doubt, lack of understanding, and, especially, hardness of heart. This is often demonstrated in the disciples (Mt 15.16; 16.8,11; 16.22; 17.20; 28.17). Fear has two very different values in the Gospel of Matthew. In some cases it represents that awe that is appropriate in the presence of an epiphany (Mt 9.8; 17.6 ). In other cases, however, fear is fright, and it is associated with “little faith” (Mt 8.23–27). Both values are applied to the disciples. In the Gospel of Matthew, the Pharisees represent the most dramatic antithesis to faith. While their hypocrisy provides the antithesis of righteousness, their hardheartness presents the antithesis of faith (Mt 15.8 [Isa 29.13]; 19.8). This exotic representation of the value of faith has an extraordinary generative effect. Rather than faith separating believing Israel from the pagan world, the expected norms are reversed: faith is found outside of Israel, and the sons of the Kingdom will be cast out. This creates a space in which the disciples may then become the new norm of faith, but that does not happen. They too struggle, they are filled with fear and doubt and misunderstanding, and they are labeled among those with “little faith.” 3.3 Peter as Conflicted Model The Gospel of Matthew gives unusual attention to the image of Peter. Peter, however, is a case study in contradictory values. He is the first among the disciples, he speaks for the group, he has inside access to key moments in Jesus’ life, and he is the first to confess that Jesus is the Messiah and the Son of God. In the Gospel of Matthew, Peter is able to walk on water (Mt 14.28–34). But he also sinks (Mt 14.30). Peter is of “little faith” and filled with doubt (Mt 14.31). He lacks understanding (Mt 15.16). Peter rebukes Jesus (Mt 16.22) and is rebuked by Jesus: “Get behind me Satan! You are a stumbling block to me” (Mt 16.23). Peter insists he will never deny Jesus (Mt 26.33–35), then does so three times (Mt 26.69–75). Despite this conflicted record, Peter, in the Gospel of Matthew, presents the ideal for future discipleship. His confession of Jesus as the Messiah and Son of God is a revelation from heaven (Mt 16.16–17). Jesus names him as Peter, then uses a word play to declare that “upon this rock I will build my church” (Mt 16.18). Extraordinary authority comes with this promise: the power over the gates of Hell, the keys of the Kingdom, the power to loose and bind (Mt 16.18– 20). In the final scene of the gospel, Peter is among those on the mountain who are sent to make disciples of the nations, to baptize, and to teach (Mt 28.16–20).

4.0 Overlap in Place, Time, Values

149

Thus, the central values of the Gospel of Matthew are laden upon the conflicted character of Peter. It is this troubled disciple who confesses the true identity of Jesus as the Son of God and the Messiah of Israel, and it is he who will lead the church into the future and unto the nations.6 3.4 Summation: Conflict and Values in the Gospel of Matthew The Gospel of Matthew projects a context for the story of Jesus by describing a world laden with conflicting values. In the Gospel of Matthew, values such as righteousness and faith are never simple, and they are rarely predictable. Righteousness is not simply a matter of keeping the rules, but the followers of Jesus must be more righteous than those who make the rules. The greater righteousness of the disciples, however, is found in the teaching of Jesus. The counterpoint of righteousness is not in its direct opposite, but in a contorted imitation that is described as hypocrisy. This value characterizes scribes and Pharisees in the Gospel of Matthew. Faith is hard to find in the Gospel of Matthew, and the primary examples come from outside Israel. Jesus’ disciples provide conflicted examples of faith, and this is especially true of Peter. He is both the rock and the stumbling block, yet the Gospel of Matthew pins the future on his confession and on his leadership. This conflicted image of discipleship echoes through the gospel and into the final scene (Mt 28.16–20). Called to the mountain to meet the risen Christ, some worshipped and some doubted. We are told in the Gospel of Matthew that the disciples are commanded to go to the nations, making disciples, baptizing, and teaching. But we are not told that they did.

4.0 Overlap in Place, Time, Values One way that the Gospel of Matthew realizes its generative potential is in the way it represents a context for its story of Jesus. This was illustrated in its presentation of time, place, and values. Each of these categories demonstrated creative, if conflicted, representations. The generative effect increases exponentially when categories are combined. The genealogy, for example, is a time line of Jesus’ past. But it is also a geographical journey from Haran to Israel to Egypt and back, then to Babylon and back. This journey is value laden, for it is populated with patriarchs, deceivers,

6  The generative effect is clear, especially in comparison to the Gospel of Mark, which presents a largely negative image of Peter and offers only a hint of hope for renewal of his discipleship in the Galilee.

150 Chapter Eight: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Projected Context prostitutes, Midianites.7 The genealogy represents, at one and the same instance, Israel’s time and place and values. This generative effect can also be seen in the testing of Jesus. The temptation scene combines time (40 days – and all that it symbolizes) with place (wilderness – and all that it symbolizes; the holy city; a high mountain), to portray a cosmic battle of values based on Israel’s scriptures. The transfiguration scene has a similar generative value. On a high mountain above the plain of daily experience four disciples are taken into the presence of Moses and Elijah, and they hear the voice from heaven declaring that Jesus is the Beloved Son. The key pieces of Israel’s time and place and value thus come together in this scene. The generative effect of the final scene is immense. On the mountain, after the resurrection, Jesus is empowered with all authority. He sends his disciples to all the nations, and he promises his presence until the end of the age. Time, place, and value are united in the climactic scene of the gospel.

5.0 Summation: Conflict as the Projected Context for the Gospel of Matthew Formalistic analysis seeks to bracket out external factors in order to observe the inner workings of a narrative. Grammatical terms can be used to describe what the text contains (morphology) and how it functions (syntax). The result is a type of narrative grammar that describes the ways in which a text produces signs and significance.8 This formal narrative analysis can then be set within a history of traditions context. I am using this approach to argue that the Gospel of Matthew is a Living Tradition. This can be seen first of all in the composition history through which this gospel was constructed. The Gospel of Matthew is built upon a confluence of competing voices and traditions. The Gospel of Matthew is also a Living Tradition in the way it frames a context for its story of Jesus. The generative effect of that process is illustrated through attention to the representation of time, place, and value. The Gospel of Matthew thus presents its story of Jesus in the context of conflict and contradiction. This is true not simply in the events of the story, but also in the backdrop and the staging of that story. Israel’s past is the story of the prophets (who both bless and curse), but it is also the story of those who kill the prophets. This present generation is both privileged and perverse. The future 7 It also tells of a woman whose husband was murdered by a king who then bore the king a son to be the wisest of kings but who never has her name mentioned. 8  See the full description of this approach in Broadhead, “Formalist Interpretation (New Criticism)”. I have applied this approach to the Gospel of Mark in various works.

5.0 Summation: Conflict as the Projected Context for the Gospel of Matthew

151

is both near and distant, and it will bring crisis and redemption. The landscape contains sacred spaces, extended journeys, high mountains, but each location is marked by dissonance. Righteousness, faith, doubt, hardness of heart, and hypocrisy intermingle in chaotic connections. Peter is a case study in conflicted values: he denies Jesus, but he is central to the future of the church. Through these various settings and techniques, the Gospel of Matthew generates for the story of Jesus a context of chaos, conflict, and contradiction. Chapter 9 will ask how the context generated within the Gospel of Matthew coheres with what we know of the historical landscape from which this gospel emerged.

Chapter Nine

The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context This study seeks to move beyond the question of authorship and to ask about the role of the Gospel of Matthew as a Living Tradition. In order to bracket out external factors and observe the inner workings of the text, a formalistic analysis has been used. Particular care is taken, however, to set this formalistic textual analysis within a history of traditions (traditionsgeschichtliche) context. This revaluing of the history of tradition looked first at the history of composition, then at the way in which the Gospel of Matthew projects a context for its story through the representation of time, place and value. Conflict emerged as an essential element in both the composition history and in the projection of its context. It is proper to explore the connections between this projected context and what can be known about the historical situation in which the Gospel of Matthew was composed. This too is a part of its Tradition History. We will look at how this period was projected in ancient texts as well as scholarly reconstructions of this era.

1.0 Between the Wars The Gospel of Matthew knows of the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple by the Romans in 70 ce. It shares this in common with the Gospel of Mark, which is also aware of these events. Since some 56 % of the Gospel of Matthew has been copied from a Greek text of the Gospel of Mark, the Gospel of Matthew is likely composed in the 80s or 90s of the first century of the common era.1 If the Gospel of Matthew is composed in the aftermath of the 1st Jewish War (66–73 ce) and in the footsteps of the Gospel of Mark, what relationship does it have to this historical context? The 2nd Jewish War began in 132 ce and ended with the removal of Jews from the city of Jerusalem. The 2nd Jewish War was a messianic revolt that centered around Simon bar Kosibah and the claim, articulated by rabbi Akiba, that Simon

1  This does not mean, of course, that we have a text in the same form in which the gospel was composed. Our earliest full text (Sinaiticus) comes from around 350 ce.

1.0 Between the Wars

153

was the Messiah. We turn to the impact of this period, then to the larger historical map before and after 70 ce. 1.1 What is No More The 1st Jewish War brought dramatic changes to the landscape of Palestine, but even more so to the ideological map. The Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed in 70 ce and the last fortress of Masada was taken in 73 ce. These events shifted the locus of power in Palestine. The influence of leading families who co-operated with Rome now gave way to direct rule from Rome. The ordering of religious life through the festivals and through the Temple sacrifices came to a sudden halt. Some of the groups that shaped the daily life of Israel, including its religious life, lost power or mostly disappeared. The sectarian community at Qumran was destroyed by the Romans, the Sadducees lost the base of their power, and the Zealots were defeated in all regions. Whatever ways forward might emerge would have to be negotiated with the Romans. 1.2 What is Not Yet Histories of this period often pose a competition over the cloak of Israel. In most versions of this model, one side is held by the rabbis, who are said to have established an academy at Jamnia from which they would write the Mishnah and reformulate Judaism. The other side was being taken by Christians who were organizing into small communities. They were producing their own textual traditions that reinterpreted the stories of Israel for a messianic sect that viewed itself as the successor or replacement of Judaism. Scholars have typically placed Matthew – along with his gospel and his community – in the midst of this struggle.2 In connection with this paradigm, scholars described this era as a “parting of the ways” between Judaism and Christianity, the beginning point of a divide and a hostility that would only grow greater. A dialectical model was applied by earlier New Testament scholarship, but largely within the early Christian movement. A Jewish type of Christianity was said to have emerged around figures like James and Peter, while a Gentile orientation grew up around Paul. Both groups were then synthesized into the Great Church.3 I argued in Jewish Ways of Following Jesus4 that these are grand narratives that do not match the evidence on the ground, either for early Christianity or for rabbinic developments. Christianity emerges as a unified, though not monolithic, movement only with the sponsorship of Constantine. Rabbinic Judaism 2 The classic formulation

was given by W. D. Davies, The Setting of the Sermon on the Mount.  The classic expression of this model goes back to Ferdinand Christian Baur. For a survey, see Broadhead, Jewish Ways of Following Jesus, pp. 6–15. 4 Broadhead, Jewish Ways of Following Jesus. 3

154 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context is a developing tradition; this process extends across a period of three centuries, and it is the emperor’s patronage that gives rabbi Judah the Prince authority to impose some degree of uniformity. In the period with which we are concerned, Christianity does not yet exist as a unified movement with common beliefs and practices. There are no public buildings that can be designated as churches. Rabbinic Judaism does not yet define what it means to live as a Jew, and it does not yet exert its control over wide stretches of Judaism. Those realities will come later, and they will do so only in part. When they do come, however, they will project their grand narratives back onto the formative stages of the process. Scholars have too easily embraced these narratives and have flattened out the diversity and conflict that marked the history of both movements. Different groups at different times and in different places negotiated this path in various ways. This period is marked not by the parting, but by the forming of the ways. Various influences and trajectories run through this story. The conflict of Hellenistic culture with the traditional values of Judaism has framed one part of this debate since the time of Alexander. The Roman question – of collaboration versus resistance  – continues. Conflict among various groups within Judaism is present. Economic lines transect the population of Palestine. There may be conflict between rural and urban ethos and values. These debates and conflicts host a variety of daily choices: how to practice or replace sacrifice at the Temple, how to follow purity laws, which coins to use, which taxes to pay and which to avoid, who to marry and who to shun, and many more. There survive two separate traditions of recording the events and developments of this period. The rabbinic tradition was recorded in Hebrew and Aramaic. Christians kept a Greek tradition, including the writings that became the New Testament and the works of the early church fathers. But Christians also kept and adopted and adapted a Greek line of Jewish traditions, including the Septuagint, Philo, Josephus, and even some Jewish texts.5 This linguistic divide is also a conceptual one. The years before and after the 1st Jewish War are sometimes remembered as contrasting eras that were decisive for the history of Judaism and Christianity. Others remember more continuity. Reconstruction of this period is complicated by the limited resources, but even more so by the fact that each of these two eras is remembered in very different ways by two emerging religious traditions. We turn now to the manner in which different participants presented this period of conflict and development. 5  See, for example, the complex history of the Syballine Oracles. While this text was probably written by a pagan prophetess, both Jews and Christians inserted their own teachings into the text. When Christians found the text in Alexandria, they saw it as supportive of their views, probably under the influence of the Jewish insertions. Christians then preserved the forged form of the work as a part of their tradition of Greek texts. This is also a clear example of mouvance.

2.0 Projections of the Landscape before 70 ce

155

2.0 Projections of the Landscape before 70 ce Various groups and writers looked back upon the years that led up to the 1st revolt and to the destruction of the Temple. Most looked for some explanation of why the Temple had fallen. Some looked inward and placed blame on various aspects of pre-70 Judaism. Some blamed Rome, and some saw here a final verdict of God’s judgment on all of Israel. 2.1 A Rabbinic Perspective The movement that became rabbinic Judaism traces its roots through a series of sages. Their construction of history thus projects a lineage that witnessed the entrance into the promised land, the exile of the northern tribes, the Babylonian exile, the return under Cyrus the Persian, and the reigns of Alexander, the Ptolemies, the Seleucids, the Macabbeans and Hasmoneans, and the Romans. None of these events, however, appear central to the way rabbis remember their history. Rabbinic history is presented as no more, and no less, than the history of the Tradition – the Law of Moses in both its written and oral form. Pirke Avot traces this lineage and illustrates it with paradigmatic sayings from the sages. Moses received the Torah from Sinai and transmitted it to Joshua; Joshua to the elders; the elders to the prophets; and the prophets handed it down to the men of the Great Assembly. … Shimon the Righteous was one of the last survivors of the Great Assembly. … Antigonus of Socho received the Torah from Shimon the Righteous. … Yosi ben Yoezer of Tzeredah and Yosi ben Yochanan of Jerusalem received the Torah from them. … Joshua ben Perachyah and Nittai the Arbelite received the Torah from them. … Judah ben Tabbai and Shimon ben Shetach received the Torah from them. … Shemayah and Avtalion received the Torah from them. … Hillel and Shammai received the Torah from them. … Rabban Gamaliel said … Shimon his son said … Rabbi Judah the Prince said … Rabban Gamaliel the son of Rabbi Judah the Prince said … Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai received the Torah from Hillel and from Shammai. … Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai had five disciples and these are they: Eliezer ben Hyrcanus, Joshua ben Chananiah, Yosi the Priest, Shimon ben Natanel, and Elazar ben Arach. … Rabbi Shimon said … Rabbi Elazar said …

156 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context For the rabbis, then, the tumultuous period preceding 70 ce is not about the Romans or the Zealots. It is another era of teaching and instruction and another link in the chain of tradition from Moses to the written Mishnah.6 Even when there are hints of the historical events surrounding them, the focus is elsewhere. Rabban Gamaliel the son of Rabbi Judah the Prince said: Be careful in your relations with the government; for they draw no man close to themselves except for their own interests. They appear as friends when it is to their advantage, but they do not stand by a man in his time of stress. (Pirke Avot 2.3)

Rather than politics, the rabbis gave their attention to the requirements for proper recitation and authentic prayer. Rabbi Shimon said: Be careful in the reciting of the Shema and in prayer. When you pray do not make your prayer a form of routine but a plea for mercy and supplications before G-d … (Pirke Avot 2.18)

This also true in the way rabbis deal with religious opposition: Rabbi Elazar said: Be eager to study the Torah. Know what to respond to a heretic. Know before whom you toil and who is your employer who shall pay you the reward of your labor. (Pirke Avot 2.19)

The term heretic (mim) would refer, particularly in the earliest traditions, to other Jews who have different practices. The concern is wholly about how one, as a faithful Jew, should practice what Torah demands. Pagans and Christians hardly appear on the map of the world under construction by the rabbis. What the rabbis do not say about the events of this period and about the conflict they face is extraordinary. For the era before as well as after the 1st Jewish War, the rabbis project a unified landscape that is marked by debate, but it is a debate controlled by the wisdom of the sages through their interpretation of the Torah. These voices of wisdom, for the rabbis, extend through an unbroken chain to Moses and Mount Sinai. Beyond this intense focus, little else on the landscape seems to matter. Thus, the rabbinic projection of history reveals little reflection upon either of the Jewish Wars, and it shows little concern for its opponents. It is important to remember that this is a constructed view of the period and that it is projected in retrospect as a part of the grand narrative of the later tradition of rabbinic Judaism. Others will employ different constructs for their projection of this period.

6  Yochanan ben Zakkai is credited with establishing the community of rabbis at Jamnia after the 1st Jewish War. Judah HaNasi (139–213 ce) is credited with gathering this tradition into written form as the mishnah.

2.0 Projections of the Landscape before 70 ce

157

2.2 The Sectarians of the Dead Sea Scrolls The scrolls found at Qumran in the Judean Desert reflect an awareness of political enemies, but also of religious opponents. Their key focus, however, is upon their own community and its practices. This community believes, through its faithfulness to God, that they will write their own history. While different scrolls have differing views of reality, the writings illustrate a distinct worldview. Their map is a cosmic one, and it is divided between the Sons of Light and the Sons of Darkness. Time also plays a key role in their construction of reality. The profile of the Romans can be recognized in their literature, and these enemies are destined for destruction in the cosmic war, which is soon to begin. Also present in the worldview of the Qumran writings are the authority figures within Judaism, particularly those who run the Temple. They too will fall in the coming war. These treatments of their political and religious foes serve as prophecy. There is no indication of an army or of plans to overthrow the Temple leadership: that will be the work of God, carried out by angelic warriors when the war begins. The real focus is the internal life of the community as it prepares for the coming events. They are concerned for their life together, so membership in the community is a crucial issue. One can be removed from the community for any number of technical transgressions of the purity code. But they are more concerned about keeping the Law, something they suggest is not done properly in the Temple. Their guide for doing so is the Teacher of Righteousness. The focus on political and religious opponents and the role of the community are linked in various texts. This can be illustrated from their commentary on Habakkuk (1QpHab). The community identity is framed around the interpretation of Hab 2.4b: “But the righteous shall live by faith.” Interpreted, this concerns all those who observe the Law in the House of Judah, whom God will deliver from the House of Judgement because of their suffering and because of their faith in the Teacher of Righteousness. (1QpHab 8)

The religious opponents come into view in their interpretation of Hab 2.5–6, which reads: “Moreover, the arrogant man seizes wealth without halting. He widens his gullet like Hell and like Death he has never enough …” Interpreted, this concerns the Wicked Priest who was called by the name of truth when he first arose. But when he ruled over Israel his heart became proud, and he forsook God and betrayed the precepts for the sake of riches. (1QpHab 8)

The end of their enemies is believed to be near, and this occurs at the hands of the political forces. Hab 2.7–8a reads: “Because you have plundered many nations, all the remnant of the peoples shall plunder you.”

158 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context Interpreted this concerns the last Priests of Jerusalem, who shall amass money and wealth by plundering the peoples. But in the last days, their riches and booty shall be delivered into the hands of the army of the Kittim …” (1QpHab 9)

All three concerns  – political, religious, community  – come together in their interpretation of Hab 2.8b, which says “Because of the blood of men and the violence done to the land, to the city, and to all its inhabitants.” Interpreted, this concerns the Wicked Priest whom God delivered into the hands of his enemies because of the iniquity committed against the Teacher of Righteousness and the men of his Council that he might be humbled by means of a destroying scourge in bitterness of his soul, because he had done wickedly to His elect. (1QpHab 9)

The community documents describe a code that is designed to purify the community and to prepare it for the coming war. In that war God will destroy the enemies – both political and religious – and establish the Sons of Light. Thus, in the years leading up to the 1st Jewish War, the writings from Qumran project a world of suffering and conflict for the Teacher and for his community of followers. Some of them have fled to the desert to purify themselves and to prepare. God is expected to intervene shortly to settle accounts with the armies of Israel’s conquerors, but also with the failed leadership in Jerusalem. This conflict is cosmic, it is waged around religious values and practices, and it will end in victory for the Sons of Light. The scroll writers thus combined an absolute faith in the sovereignty of God, an apocalyptic vision of the coming war, and an intense focus on community instruction and piety. This was their response to the chaotic era that preceded the 1st Jewish War. When we turn to the period between the two Jewish Wars, the voice of Qumran will not be heard. The Dead Sea community, among the first casualties of the revolt, was destroyed by the Roman army in 66 ce. 2.3 Josephus Writing in the years following the 1st Jewish War, Josephus offers an apologetic account of Jewish life, and he projects this ideal onto the period before the war. The central motif is the unity and dignity of the Jewish people. Josephus credits this harmony to the laws by which Jewish people live. Unity and identity of religious belief, perfect uniformity in habits and customs, produce a very beautiful concord in human character. Among us alone will be heard no contradictory statements about God, such as are common among other nations. … Among us alone will be seen no difference in the conduct of our lives. With us all act alike, all profess the same doctrine about God, one which is in harmony with our Law and affirms that all things are under His eye. (Contra Apionem 2.179–181)7  7  Loeb translation, cited in Martin Goodman, “Religious Variety and the Temple in the Late Second Temple Period and its Aftermath,” in Sects and Sectarianism in Jewish History, ed. Sacha Stern (Leiden: Brill, 2011), pp. 24–25.

2.0 Projections of the Landscape before 70 ce

159

Josephus must also give an account of the revolt. He begins by separating out the Fourth Philosophy, whom he holds responsible for the revolt, then offering a benign description of other pre-70 groups. Josephus cites the revolt of Judas the Galilean in order to declare that “This man was a teacher of a peculiar sect of his own, and was not at all like the rest of those their leaders.”8 He then describes the other groups: For there are three philosophical sects among the Jews. The followers of the first of whom are the Pharisees; of the second the Sadducees; and the third sect, who pretends to a severer discipline, are called Essenes.9

Josephus describes the traits of each group and details various doctrines and practices that distinguish them from one another. He thus projects for the Romans an age in which Jews gathered into philosophical sects to discuss and to practice their own understanding of God’s Law. Josephus refers to those who started the war with Rome as innovators, as seditious, and as robbers. As the war approaches, however, and in the days before the fall of Jerusalem, Josephus notes the conflict between Jewish leaders of the revolt. Josephus himself leads campaigns against fellow Jews.10 Josephus describes a Fourth Philosophy, under the leadership of Judas the Galilean, not so much by what they believe, but by their unyielding commitment to liberty. They believe as the Pharisees, says Josephus, but they have an inviolable attachment to liberty; and say that God is to be their only Ruler and Lord. They also do not value dying any kind of death, nor indeed do they heed the deaths of their relations and friends, nor can any such fear make them call any man Lord.11

Josephus blames bad Roman administration for inciting the patriotism of the Fourth Philosophy. And it was in Gessius Florus’s time that the nation began to grow mad with this distemper, who was our procurator, and who occasioned the Jews to go wild with it by the abuse of his authority, and to make them revolt from the Romans.12

These characterizations of Jewish life in the pre-70 period provide the basis for his apologetic presentation to Rome in the 90s. At the heart of this apology are three claims: 1) what the Jewish people care most about is keeping their laws, 2) the three sects are like philosophers debating their ideas and practices, 3) those who started the war were incited by bad Roman administration, and they are now dead.

 Jewish Wars, 2.118. Wars, 2.119. 10  Jewish Wars, 2.585–646. 11  Antiquities, 23–24. 12 Antiquities, 25.  8

 9 Jewish

160 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context 2.4 Philo While Josephus presents certain Jewish groups as philosophical sects, Philo presents the whole of Judaism as a philosophy. Living in Alexandria (20 bce to 50 ce), Philo wrote in Greek and sought to place Jewish ideas within the larger Hellenistic world of thought. Indeed, he sought to show that Jewish philosophy was older than and superior to the Greek philosophers. Employing a type of neoplatonism, Philo used allegory to interpret Jewish scripture, finding there the values and virtures so beloved by Greeks. Philo argued that the Greek philosophers inherited their traditions from Moses. Philo’s strategy is not one of confrontation; it is rather a literary strategy based on appropriation, integration, and supercession. He projected this philosophical character upon Judaism in the period before the 1st Jewish War. Philo remains distant, both in thought and geography, from the conflicts that characterized the formative years of Judaism. 2.5 Apocalypses The conflict that marked the period before and after the 1st Jewish War was described and addressed in a particular genre of Jewish writing. Apocalypses typically employ ancient heroes and cosmic figures to address a contemporary situation of persecution and suffering. Written in code and in veiled language, apocalyptic texts can articulate protest and rebuke aimed at specific enemies. Moreover, they constitute a coded plea for justice and provide a type of theodicy. In this literature the righteous suffering are heard by God, and they will be vindicated in the future judgment. Various apocalyptic works address the chaotic experience of Jews in the first century ce.13 2.6 New Testament Projections The portrait of Jesus in the gospels is projected from the time of writing, which, for each of the gospels, is between the two Jewish revolts. Thus, they tell of events in the pre-war era, but they do so from a post-70 perspective. In each of the gospels, the story of Jesus is one of conflict, not only with the Jewish leaders, but, in varying degrees, with his own followers and with the people of Israel. A question still debated among New Testament scholars is the degree to which the gospels present Jesus in conflict with Rome. While Roman administration plays a role in the birth narratives in two gospels and in the passion story in all four gospels, their presence is limited. Scholars debate whether Roman oppression is to be presumed as a part of the landscape, whether there is a coded 13  Examples are 1 and 2 Enoch, Apocryphon of Ezekial, Apocalypse of Zephaniah, the Fourth Book Ezra (2 Esdras).

2.0 Projections of the Landscape before 70 ce

161

hostility to Rome in the teachings of Jesus, or whether Jesus largely ignored the Romans as irrelevant in view of the coming Kingdom. For all of the gospels, the primary conflict is a religious one, and this conflict can be seen wholly within the framework of Judaism. For all of the gospels, this pre-war conflict is narrated from a post-war standpoint. A clearer portrayal of this period is to be found in the the book of Acts. In this second volume of a two part work, the story of Jesus continues, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, among his followers. Again, a pre-war story is told from a post-70 perspective. The growth of the Christian movement is traced from its origins in Jerusalem to its proclamation on the streets of Rome. The key motif behind this projected history is how the gospel crosses various boundaries and overcomes all barriers in its progression to the heart of the Roman empire. The movement begins in Jerusalem as a type of renewal within Judaism, then moves step by step into the larger world. At the end of the story, Paul, though a prisoner, preaches the gospel in Rome, and he does so “unhinderedly” (Acts 28.30–31). This narrative projects an ideal unity, but it does so in a world of conflict. The idealized image of the Jerusalem community is expressed in the characterization of the early community under the leadership of the apostles: Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. All who had believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day as they spent much time together in the Temple, they broke bread from house to house, and ate their food with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved. (Acts 2.43–47)

After a period of persecution, it is reported that the church throughout Judea, Galilee, and Samaria had peace and was built up. Living in the fear of the Lord and in the comfort of the Holy Spirit, it increased in number. (Acts 9.31)

Other scenes convey this image of unity and the spirit of co-operation. Guided by a dream about questions of purity, Peter calls for the full acceptance of Gentiles (Acts 10.1–48), with the result that “the circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out on the Gentiles” (Acts 10.45). The apostles in Jerusalem address this issue, sending to Antioch a letter defining the terms of the Gentiles’ inclusion (Acts 15.1–35). The book of Acts knows of various levels of persecution, abuse, and martyrdom at the hands of Romans. Despite this evidence, Roman authority is treated in a rather benign way.

162 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context At the end of narrative, the gospel reaches Rome. Paul declares his innocence before Roman authorities and is set to plead his case to the emperor. The story concludes with Paul preaching the gospel in the heart of the empire: He lived there two whole years at his own expense and welcomed all who came to him, proclaiming the Kingdom of God and teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ with all boldness and without hindrance. (Acts 28.30–31)

There is, however, a counterpoint of conflict and rejection running through the narrative of Acts. When Ananias and Sapphira lie about a contribution to the common purse, they are struck dead (Acts 5.1–11). The apostles are arrested by the high priest and the Sadducees (Acts 5.17–18). Saul, a zealous Pharisee, persecutes the church (Acts 8.3) and watches with approval as Stephen is stoned (Acts 6.12; 7.54–8.1). Throughout his journeys, Paul is subjected to arrest and abuse. The conflict is not one-sided. In the book of Acts, the movement of the gospel into the Gentile world has a counterplot in the rejection of this message in the synagogues. While Paul is rejected in various places, what could be seen as anecdotal has become paradigmatic in the book of Acts. On three occasions Paul’s message is rejected by Jewish listeners, then Paul announces a programmatic shift to the Gentiles (Acts 13.44–52; 18.4–6; 28.23–28). In the first case, Paul immediately goes to another synagogue (14.1); in the second case, Paul eventually moves on to another place, and he goes first to the synagogue (18.19). Thus, the book of Acts has framed the outward journey of the gospel into the Gentile world with a constructed counter theme of its rejection by the Jewish synagogues. This rejection is met by a programmatic turning from the syagogues. In Acts, this mutual rejection undergirds the mssion to the Gentiles. At the end of the story, it seems of little concern that Paul is a prisoner and is awaiting trial before a Roman court, because the gospel is unhindered. Acts does not narrate Paul’s verdict and his fate; it projects a different history. Acts projects a world in which the gospel triumphs against all odds and all obstacles in its way. But this turning to the nations represents, in the world of Acts, a conscious turning from the Jews. Likely written in the years between the two Jewish Wars, the book of Acts describes the decades prior to the first revolt. This era is characterized as a period of unity within the developing church, but this is an ideal challenged by the details of the story. This account of a gospel accepted among Gentiles and preached unhinderedly in the heart of the empire is also framed as a story of conflict and the mutual rejection by Jews and Christians. This projected history, written largely about Paul, is echoed in materials from Paul. This can be illustrated in Paul’s letter to the Galatians. Here Paul announces the unifying power of the gospel message: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all are one in Christ” (Gal 3.28).

2.0 Projections of the Landscape before 70 ce

163

Galatians also shows the harshest side of Paul, and his attack is directed against other Christians. “I am astonished,” says Paul, “that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you in the grace of God and are turning to another gospel …” (Gal 1.6). “You foolish Galatians! Who has bewitched you?” he continues (Gal 3.1). In his debate with the community over whether Gentiles should be circumcised, Paul declares “I wish those who unsettle you would castrate themselves!” (Gal 5.12). Paul’s opponents are likely fellow Jews who follow Jesus, but do so by continuing to keep the Law. In Galatians and in other letters written in the last decades before the 1st Jewish War, Paul projects a history of unity around the gospel of Christ. In his letters, Paul tends to presume conflict and persecution from the outside, but to expect unity within the church. This ideal is countered by those who oppose Paul from within various Christian communities, but also by Paul’s own words to his opponents, both inside and outside of the churches. 2.7 A Counter to Acts: Recognitions 1.27–71 The book of Acts projects upon the pre-war period the story of how the gospel began among Jewish followers in Jerusalem and was spread, along the tracks of Paul, into the heart of the Roman Empire. A corollary within that narrative is the paradigmatic portrayal of the rejection of the gospel in the synagogues. The Acts narrative is countered by another group of Christians with a very different understanding of the pre-70 period. The Pseudo-Clementine writings and the sources behind them hold rich potential for research in early Christianity. The complexity of these traditions makes critical analysis difficult, and consensus has been rare. Graham Stanton noted four basic problems that make critical analysis of this material difficult. 1. There are eight writings available in four sets, but their relationships are uncertain; 2. Some of these writings appear to be built on earlier sources, but also to have been edited by later hands; 3. These texts are found in eight languages, with some in fragmentary condition; 4. Isolation and interpretation of passages that might relate to Jewish Christianity is a complex undertaking.14

The four sets of writings include: 1. The Homilies, which recount the life of Clement of Rome. 2. The Recognitions, which also recount the life of Clement.

14  Graham Stanton, “Jewish Christian Elements in the Pseudo-Clementine Writings,” in Jewish Believers in Jesus: The Early Centuries, ed. Oskar Skarsaune and Reidar Hvalvik (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2007), pp. 305–24.

164 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context 3. The Introductory Writings, which include two letters addressed to James (the Epistula Petri and the Epistula Clementis), and a writing known as the Contestation or Diamartyria; 4. The Epitomes, which are summaries of the Homilies and of the Recognitions.

The Pseudo-Clementine writings invoke almost every possible critical issue in terms of authorship, textual history, history of tradition, source analysis, redaction history, and transmission history. Moreover, these texts appear to occupy an important juncture in the history of development of Christianity, especially in relation to Jewish Christianity. For this reason, the Pseudo-Clementine writings have intrigued scholars for some three centuries. Most scholars explain the similarities between the Homilies and the Recognitions in terms of a common source, usually labeled as the Grundschrift, although other relationships are possible. While reconstructions have been numerous and sometimes fanciful, there is a growing scholarly consensus that Recognitions 1.27–71 constitutes a distinct literary unit with a Jewish Christian ethos, particularly in comparison with the rest of the Recognitions. Even within this limited block of material, both the use of sources and subsequent interpolation may be present.15 Although debate continues about the larger literary history and Tradition History of the Pseudo-Clementines, the material in Recognitions 1.27–71 can be used to illustrate a very different projection of the pre-70 era. The book of Acts tells the story of the early church in connection with Stephen’s sermon on Israel’s history of rejecting God’s messengers (Acts 6.8–8.1). A similar framework is developed in a different direction in Recognitions 1.27–71. This material also provides an extensive review of the history of Yahweh’s relationship with Israel. This includes an account of Jesus’ ministry as the True Prophet promised by Moses, followed by an extended focus on the struggles of the early Jerusalem church. The review of Israel’s history extends from the creation to a date seven years after the death of Jesus (1.27.1–1.44.3). A dialogue between Clement and Peter (1.44.4–1.53) is followed by an extended debate involving Peter and other disciples (1.54.1–1.71.6).16 Recognitions 1.27–71 thus creates a new map of Israel’s history, with a particular focus on the conflict from which the Christian movement emerges.17 Two issues dominate the narrative: 1) a christological concern to portray Jesus as the True Prophet predicted by Moses, and 2) the location of the early church in relation to Judaism, but also in relation to Paul. 15 Stanton, “Jewish Christian Elements in the Pseudo-Clementine Writings,” p. 319, noted that there is also a general agreement that 1.44–52, with its focus on the True Prophet rather than the usual “prophet like Moses,” is an interpolated block within 1.27–71. A different reconstruction of the larger unit is offered by Robert E. Van Voorst, The Ascents of James: History and Theology of a Jewish-Christian Community, (Atlanta:Scholars Press, 1989). 16  Van Voorst, The Ascents of James, p. 31, offers a slightly different outline. 17 Thus, a Gemeindegründungslegende (a foundational narrative for a community).

2.0 Projections of the Landscape before 70 ce

165

The narrative tells how Abraham is born in the twenty-first generation (1.32.1– 3). Abraham, through his friendship with God, saves the world from destruction by fire (1.32.2). Abraham reads the signs of the heavens and recognizes God as the maker of the universe, an insight confirmed by a visit from an angel (1.32.3–4). It is here that the True Prophet first appears. He revealed to Abraham the knowledge of deity, similarly disclosed the beginning and end of the world, and exhibited immortality of the soul and the habits of life by which God is pleased. He also declared that the dead will rise, the future judgment, the reward of the good, and the punishment of the evil, all regulated by just authority (1.33.1–2). After coming to know God, Abraham and Sarah have Isaac, whose lineage is traced through Jacob to the twelve patriarchs and to the seventy-two leaders of Israel (1.34.1–2). Seeing the suffering of Israel, the True Prophet appears to Moses and visits the plagues upon Egypt (1.34.3–4). Following the exodus from Egypt, Moses leads the people by an indirect route in order to purge them, through time and legislation, from the evil practices they learned in Egypt (1.35.1). Though they have seen God’s deliverance and received God’s law, the people of Israel build an idol on an Egyptian model (1.35.2–5). Knowing the difficulty of eliminating such practices, Moses took the halfway step of allowing sacrifice, but to God alone (1.36.1). In a similar way, the establishment of the Temple is seen as a compromise with the original intent that Israel should worship in a house of prayer (1.38.5). This explanation is followed by a leap into the present situation of the narrative. The prophet predicted by Moses comes by the mercy of God and commands an end to sacrifice (1.39.3). In order to prevent total disbelief, the baptism in water replaces sacrifice as a means of forgiveness (1.39.2). Those who follow this command will be spared in the impending war, which will uproot the people and destroy their place (1.39.3). The signs and wonders performed by the prophet before this war will confirm this prophecy. Emphasis then falls on the unbelief of those who received this prophecy (1.39.2–3). Because of this, the prophet chooses a new group of twelve apostles and a new group of seventy-two disciples (1.40.4). His miracles are seen as echoes of Moses’ wonders in Egypt (1.41.1–2). The death of the newly arisen prophet is blamed on the impious (1.42.2). In order to make up for this unbelief and to fill up the number of descendants promised to Abraham, people from the Gentiles are called to take their place among God’s people (1.42.1). The raising of Jesus is explained by his opponents as magic, but the truth is winning out (1.42.4–1.43.1). The name of Jesus first appears in 1.43.1: “They frequently sent to us asking that we speak to them about Jesus, whether he is the prophet whom Moses predicted, who is the eternal Christ.” The issue of christology is presented as the only point of difference between “us who believe in Jesus and the unbelieving Jews” (1.43.2).

166 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context In this way Recognitions 1.27–71 has framed a new narrative for the story of Israel, and it has incorporated Jesus into the larger flow of that story. The narrative then seeks to locate Jesus’ followers in relationship to Judaism. Seven years after the death of Jesus, the church is Jerusalem is growing under the leadership of James, its bishop (1.43.3). In the season of Passover, the apostles gather to report (or to learn) about the growth of various communities. Priests are sent from Caiaphas the high priest seeking a debate to settle the differences between the “two faiths” (1.44.1–3). It is clear that Recognitions 1.27–71 has used the rehearsal of Israel’s story and the account of Jesus’ fate to set the stage for its central focus: the debate between followers of Jesus and other Jews. Clement enters the story as a first person narrator in 1.44.4, and his statements bring Peter into the story (1.44.5). Peter reintroduces the concept of Jesus as the True Prophet, a confession acknowledged by Clement (1.44.5–6). Clement, however, seeks further instruction in what it means for Jesus to be the Christ, and Peter provides this instruction. It is through the voice of Peter that Recognitions 1.27–71 reconstructs the history of the earliest movement. After debating the prophetic status of the first human being, Peter emphasizes the central point: the anointing of Jesus surpasses and replaces the temporal anointing of Israel’s leaders. But the high priest was anointed with the fabricated ointment and was esteemed worthy of the office of prophet. He kindled the altar fire, raised up the fire, and showed it to the whole world. Now after Aaron the high priest, the one who sprang forth from water also arose. I am speaking not about Moses, but rather about the one who was called the Son, Christ, through baptism. He was also called Jesus. He extinguished the altar that was burning there for sin, when he appeared, the unction of the high priesthood, prophecy, and kingship ceased. (1.48.3 – 6)

Peter then articulates the key question and provides an answer based on Israel’s scripture. The argument is made that the surprising prophecy of rejection by his own and acceptance by the Gentiles has been fulfilled: “Thus all these things of the prophecy that was not believed were exactly fulfilled, and he became the hope of the nations” (1.50.4). The failure of many within Israel to recognize Jesus fulfills the prophecy of old and thus confirms the validity of Jesus’ ministry. It is noteworthy that the Recognitions consciously limits the debate to the christological question: “Our quarrel with them is this: whether this one who is coming and has come or another who has not yet come is the one prophet …” (1.50.7). This narrative does not seek to create a new religion beyond Judaism. If the hope of Israel is fulfilled in the coming of Jesus, what does that mean for faithful Jews before Jesus? Clement questions whether those who died before Christ’s coming have missed out on the kingdom, and Peter answers that From the beginning Christ has been in all generations, and he was secretly with those who wanted to be in fear of God and who were awaiting him as one who was far off (1.51.3).

2.0 Projections of the Landscape before 70 ce

167

A lengthy speech by Peter extends through the remainder of the unit (1.54.1– 1.71.6). This material answers the key questions and constructs a new template for understanding the conflicts of the formative years. The Temple is specified as the scene of this speech, and a group of believers accompanies Peter and Clement (1.53.4). Peter first describes how, at the time when Christ was coming to end sacrifices and to institute baptism, the enemy created sects among the people to prevent their redemption (1.54.1). These sects are then described in order: the Sadducees (1.54.2–3); the Samaritans (1.54.4–5); the scribes and the Pharisees (1.54.6–7); the disciples of John (1.54.8). In this way Recognitions 1.27–71 has mapped the landscape of early Judaism as one of internal conflict. This motif will be important for the projection of the Jesus movement onto that map. The disputation on the Temple steps begins with an introduction from various followers of Jesus. The apostolic figures each contribute to the debate with the Jewish leaders.18 The climax of this debate is reached in the dialogue between Caiaphas and Peter (1.62.1–1.65.5). Caiaphas begins with a personal attack: “For while you were untaught and a fisher by trade you became a teacher by chance” (1.62.2). Peter turns the attack around, noting that his lack of training shows his correctness is based on the work of God, not on erudition (1.62.5–7). A summary of the debate (1.63.1) is followed by a call to receive Jesus, to be baptized, and to affirm the Trinity.19 No amount of sacrifices can replace this confession, and God is angered by the offering of sacrifices since the time of sacrifices has ended (1.63.4–1.64.1). This will lead to the destruction and replacement of the Temple and the proclamation of the gospel to the nations (1.64.2). The hosts of priests are angered by these words, but Gamaliel, who is a secret follower of Jesus, calms the group and calls for further debate the following day (1.65.1–5). The climax of this document is reached in the debate between James, who is described as the bishop, and the leaders of Israel. Gamaliel begins with a plea for 18 Matthew refutes the high priest on the issue of baptism (1.55.4); Andrew refutes a Sadducee on the issue of the resurrection (1.56.1–3); James and John, sons of Zebedee, refute a Samaritan on the resurrection, the conflict between Jerusalem and Mount Gerazim, and the identity of the prophet predicted by Moses (1.57.1–5); Philip refutes one of the scribes on the charge that Jesus was a magician (1.58.1–3); Bartholomew refutes a Pharisee’s charge that Jesus was not equal to Moses (1.59.1–3). James then takes up the question, arguing that the prophets should not be used to confirm the status of Christ, but rather that Christ confirms the status of the prophets (1.59.4–6). Lebbaeus then convicts the people for their persecution and rejection of Jesus (1.59.7). Simon the Canaanite refutes a follower of John the Baptist who places John above Jesus (1.60.1–4). Barabbas, who took the place of Judas, speaks against hatred of Jesus, noting that “he took a body from the Jews and became a Jew” (1.60.5–7). Thomas refutes Caiaphas’ charge that Jesus promised material rewards to the poor (1.61.1–3). 19 The Latin text adds “receive the eucharist.”

168 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context an open account of the new faith and a tolerant hearing by the people, including a promise they will not be harmed (1.67.1–7). Caiaphas sponsors a debate between Gamaliel and James, now called the archbishop, on what the scriptures say about the Christ (1.68.1–2). James draws from the Law, from the prophets, and from the book of Kings20 to demonstrate that Jesus is the Christ (1.69.1–4). He then calls for baptism in living water in the name of the Trinity (1.69.5–8). This debate lasts for seven days, and afterwards all the people and the high priest are called upon to be baptized (1.69.8). Thus, Recognitions 1.27–71 seeks to locate Jesus, as the True Prophet, within a revised history of Israel, then it shows how the apostles convincingly called the leadership of Israel to embrace this new understanding. In this model, Jesus becomes the hope of the nations who will fill in the vacant seats within Israel. One further piece must be mapped, and Recognitions 1.27–71 uses the moment not only to explain the role of Paul but to blame him for the rejection of Jesus by the leaders. The call to baptism is interrupted by a hostile person and his few followers (1.70.1). This thinly veiled image of Paul rebukes the priests and leads the attack on the followers of Jesus (1.70.2–6). In the ensuing riot, James is killed (1.70.7–8). While the followers of Jesus were more numerous and more powerful, they chose not to kill, but rather to endure death at the hands of the minority (1.71.1). When evening falls, the Temple is closed and the disciples gather at James’ house (1.71.2). The following morning, the group of about five thousand disciples flees to Jericho (1.71.2). There they receive word from Gamaliel that the enemy has promised to massacre all who believe in Jesus and is headed to Damascus in search of Peter (1.71.5). Thirty days later the enemy passes through Jericho. The closing lines note the protection provided to the disciples by the yearly miracle of the whitening of the graves of two believers (1.71.5–6). Recognitions 1.27–71 has thus created its own version of the “turning to the Gentiles” motif, but it does so in stark contrast and contradiction to the canonical book of Acts. Against the backdrop of Stephen’s sermon, the book of Acts traces the engagement with the leadership of Israel, noting that “the number of the disciples increased greatly in Jerusalem, and a great many of the priests became obedient to the faith” (Acts 6.7). The history of Israel’s rejection is orated by Stephen (Acts 6.8–8.1), then Acts traces the development of the Gospel in the tracks of Paul. Paul’s ministry is met by acceptance among Gentiles and by conflict in the synagogues, leading to a programmatic threefold turning from Israel to the nations (Acts 13.46–47; 18:6; 28.28). In contrast to the book of Acts, Recognitions 1.27–71 develops a different explanation of the turning to the Gentiles. As in Acts, this turning may be attribut20 Book

of Kings in the Latin, Book of Kingdoms in the Syriac.

2.0 Projections of the Landscape before 70 ce

169

ed to rejection, but in Recognitions this is the great tragedy of Israel’s history. As a consequence, Gentiles will be chosen to fill the seats left vacant by those who rejected Jesus. Recognitions explains Jesus’ engagement with the whole history of Israel in his role as the True Prophet. In his earthly life Jesus has fulfilled all the trajectories of Israel’s history with God, and the apostles are on the verge of convincing the leadership of Israel of this reality. It is only the intervention of Paul that prevents the leadership of Israel from following Jesus. Indeed, in the Recognitions, Gamaliel is a secret follower and a protector of the apostles. Paul is not opposed for his mission to the Gentiles, but rather for his intrusion into the conversion of the Jewish leaders and the people of Jerusalem. Here the story ends, for a new map is in place to explain the tumultuous era that led to the 1st Jewish War. While Recognitions does not narrate those events, the fate of the Temple is in view. The debate between the apostles and the leaders of Israel takes place precisely on the steps of the Temple. God is angered by the offering of sacrifices, since the time of sacrifices has ended (1.63.4–1.64.1). This will lead to the destruction and replacement of the Temple and the proclamation of the gospel to the nations (1.64.2). When the apostles abandon the Temple and Jerusalem, its fate is sealed and the mission to the nations has begun. This is a tragedy that need not have happened, and this is largely Paul’s fault. The Gentile mission will fill in the places left empty in Israel. In this way Recognitions offers a very different account of the formative years before the 1st Jewish War. 2.8 Why the Temple Fell Various texts interpret the destruction of the Temple in 70 ce. Eusebius knows Josephus’ account of the last days of Jerusalem. He knows that Josephus blaims Jewish radicals for the fall of the city, and Eusebius also knows of Josephus’ interest in James. Eusebius makes the connection for his readers between the death of James and the fall of Jerusalem. And, while they were thus stoning him to death, one of the priests, the sons of Rechab, the son of Rechabim, to whom testimony is borne by Jeremiah the prophet, began to cry aloud, saying: “Cease, what do ye? The just man is praying for us.” But one among them, one of the fullers, took the staff with which he was accustomed to wring out the garments he dyed, and hurled it at the head of the just man. And so he suffered martyrdom; and they buried him on the spot, and the pillar erected to his memory still remains, close by the temple. This man was a true witness to both Jews and Greeks that Jesus is the Christ. And shortly after Vespasian besieged Judaea, taking them captive. (HE 2.23.17–18 ; see also 3.11.1)

Eusebius borrows another story from Josephus about the last desperate days of Jerusalem, then adds his own conclusion. After telling the chilling story of a desperate and deranged mother killing and cooking her child, Eusebius concludes

170 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context that, “Such was the reward which the Jews received for their wickedness and impiety, against the Christ of God.” (HE 6.32) In an interesting twist of historiography, Eusebius has taken up Josephus’ projection of the era and turned it into a general condemnation. Josephus’ point, in the aftermath of the 1st Jewish War, was to blame a small segment of Judaism and thus to defend other groups. His goal was to offer an explanation to Rome that would secure their status in the eyes of Rome. Eusebius, writing in the aftermath of both wars and from the comfort of Constantine’s partronage, takes Josephus’ blame of some Jews and projects a history that condemns all Jews. It is not the Zealots, he says, but the religious leadership of Israel that put James to death. In the eyes of Eusebius and others, this was the reason the Temple fell. Both Eusebius and Josephus share a common primary audience – the Roman emperor. Thus, an apologetic treatment of the period by a Jewish historian to sustain a new image of his people has been turned by Eusebius into a foundational account of the end of Judaism and the beginning of Christianity. 2.9 Summation: Projected History in the Years Before the 1st Jewish War These texts do not provide a comprehensive account of the years before the 1st Jewish War. They do, however, demonstrate the process through which history is appropriated. More importantly for our purposes, they illustrate the variety of ways in which texts, from competing points of interest, project the history of this period. Some employ a strategy of simply ignoring their opponents. This can be seen in the rabbis’ internal focus on the continuing development of their tradition. The sectarians from the Dead Sea exclude their enemies from the landscape by giving them over to the judgment of God, and they prepare themselves through their internal focus on community rule and practice. Josephus enagages the conflict of the era through explanation and apology. He seeks to partition the revolt and to place blame squarely on the shoulders of the now defeated Fourth Philosophy. He does this in spite of his own role as a Sadducee, priest, and Pharisee who was a leader of the revolt in the Galilee. The Jews who survive, says Josphesus, were misunderstood. Some Christian testimonies focus on the suffering and the challenge to faith brought by this era. In the earlier traditions, such as Mark 13, the texts center on a call to faithful endurance. Later Christian traditions are more concerned for unity. While the Romans are blamed to varying degrees, more anger is spent toward Judaism and its rejection of the Christian messengers. All of these traditions seem to understand that the era that ended in the 1st Jewish War was decisive in redrawing the landscape. This is the concern that occupies the focus between the two Jewish Wars, as we shall see below. In most instances,

3.0 Projections of the Landscape after 70 ce

171

the new landscapes that emerge after 70 ce are built on distinct perceptions of the conflict, suffering, and destruction of the era leading up to the 1st Jewish War.

3.0 Projections of the Landscape after 70 ce While the projected histories do not fall neatly into pre-war and post-war camps, there are some writings that give distinct focus to the period between the two Jewish wars (70 ce to 135 ce). While often describing events in the period leading up to the 1st War, they do so to reorder the landscape between the wars. 3.1 A Rabbinic Perspective This is the era in which the rabbis begin to gather, edit, and record their traditions – a process that extends over some four hundred years. As noted earlier, this material is marked by an internal focus on tradition, and it has little interest in external events and gives little attention to its enemies. A new landscape is being constructed around the Torah, and this is implemented in the formation of the Mishnah and the Talmuds. The Rabbis largely ignore their opposition and say little of the external landscape. 3.2 Josephus While Josephus writes largely about the history of the Jewish people and the 1st Jewish war, his real concern is for the period after 70 ce. Writing from Rome in the 90s, Josephus describes the remaining sects in terms of philosophical circles, he emphasizes the unity of the Jewish people around their religious laws, and he notes the deaths of numerous seditious rebels. We saw earlier how this image was projected upon the pre-70 period. Its role is to lobby for Roman tolerance in the period after 70 ce. 3.3 Christian Perspectives The period between the wars is represented in various early Christian writings. Some address the period directly, while others use stories from the life of Jesus to reshape the landscape developing between the wars. These narratives seek to make sense of the conflict and disorientation of this era. 3.3.1 The Eschatological Discourse of Mark 13 Mark 13 places on the lips of Jesus a prophecy about the final age. The discourse itself (Mk 13.5–37) does not mention the Temple. The introduction to the discourse, however, makes it clear that the destruction of the Temple is in view

172 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context (Mk 13.1–4). Thus, the Gospel of Mark narrates a prophetic discourse within the lifetime of Jesus, but it does so in a way that describes the experience of his followers in the time of the 1st Jewish War and in its aftermath. This discourse projects a history marked by conflict and violence on earth, but also by cosmic events. This history unfolds in stages, and it is important for the disciples not to be misled about the timing of these events. Surprisingly little is said of Rome or the armies that will surround Jerusalem. The only reference to the invasion is described in religious terms as “the desolating sacrilege set up where it ought not to be” (Mk 13.14). This conflict is, from the perspective of the Gospel of Mark, a time of trial for the followers of Jesus. Their primary task is to endure, and relief will come with the cosmic appearance of the Son of Man. 3.3.2 The Apocalypse: A Response to Domitian? The book of the Revelation (Apocalypse), almost certainly written between the wars, has a twofold focus. Like the Gospel of Mark, it has a religious focus in its call to faithful endurance. As in the Gospel of Mark, this involves both warning and encouragement. In the Apocalypse, the religious focus takes the form of letters addressed to seven churches in Asia (Rev 1.4–3.22). Each letter has its own specific advice and encouragement shaped to a particular community. This corpus of letters is prefaced by a statement about God, about Christology, and about ecclesiology. God is “the one who is and who was and who is to come” (Rev 1.4). There are seven spirits before the throne of God (Rev 1.4). Jesus is the Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of earth (Rev 1.5). The letters are addressed to those who have been loved by Jesus and have been freed from sin by his blood, and here they are called “a kingdom of priests” (Rev 1.5–6). The letters begin in Rev 2.1 and address each of the seven churches in turn. Each letter is framed around a general model: 1) a statement about the context of the church, 2) actions for which they are praised, 3) warnings, 4) promise of blessing, 5) a call to listen to the Spirit. Deviations from this model, such as the lack of praise for the Laodiceans, may be noteworthy. Ephesus 1. False apostles 2. Patient endurance 3. Return to your first love 4. Eat from the tree of life in paradise 5. Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches Smyrna 1. Slandered by the synagogue of Satan 2. Rich

3.0 Projections of the Landscape after 70 ce

173

3. Be faithful unto death 4. Whoever conquers will not be harmed by the second death 5. Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches Pergamum 1. Living in the midst of Satan’s throne 2. Holding fast in the face of persecution and death 3. Some there hold to the teachings of Balaam, Nicolaitans 4. Whoever conquers will receive hidden manna, the white stone, a new name 5. Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches Thyatira 1. 2. Works of love, faith, service, patient endurance 3. Tolerate a teacher named Jezebel 4. Whoever conquers will receive authority, will receive the morning star 5. Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches Sardis 1. 2. You have a name of being alive 3. Wake up from the dead 4. Whoever conquers will be clothed in white robes, named in the book of life, confessed before God 5. Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches Philadelphia 1. An open door is placed before you 2. You have kept my name and not denied me 3. Synagogue of Satan will bow before your feet 4. I will keep you from the hour of trial, make you a pillar in the temple of God, write on you a new name 5. Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches Laodicea 1. 2. You are neither hot nor cold 3. Repent 4. Whoever conquers I will give a place with me on my throne 5. Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches

The first response to the coming catastrophe is to the churches, and these letters concern their internal life and end with a call to faithfulness. A key element in a number of letters is the conflict with synagogues. Some are described enigmatically as “those who say they are Jews and are not” (Rev 2.9; 3.9). While it is impossible to know the context, the issue is addressed because of its impact within the churches. Satan is posed as the enemy in relation to these synagogues, but in Pergamum Satan is evoked through the image of “the throne of Satan” (Rev 2.13).

174 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context The internal focus of the letters is much like Mark 13, but the remainder of the Apocalypse turns it vengeful gaze to the Romans. This too is “a call for the endurance and faith of the saints” (Rev 13.10), but the opponent is now characterized in cosmic and demonic images. The most graphic of these, perhaps, is the image of the great whore seated on many waters: I saw a woman siiting on a scarlet beast that was full of blasphemous names, and it had seven heads and ten horns. The woman was clothed in purple and scarlet, and adorned with gold and jewels and pearls, holding in her hand a golden cup full of abominations and the impurities of her fornication; and on her forehead was written a name, a mystery: “Babylon the great, mother of whores and of earth’s abominations.” And I saw that the woman was drunk with the blood of the saints and the blood of the witnesses to Jesus. (Rev 17.3–6)

While the reference is hardly a veiled one, the Apocalypse makes it explicit: “The woman you saw is the great city that rules over the kings of the earth” (Rev 17.18). Most scholars place the Apocalypse in the context of persecution under the reign of Domition (reigned 81–96 ce). The Apocalypse thus projects upon the era between the wars a cosmic conflict between the powers of good and evil, but also between Rome and the faithful followers of Jesus. In the midst of these dire predictions are letters of warning and encouragement, and the story ends with the promise of a new heaven and a new earth (Rev 22.1–7). The Apocalypse thus borrows a literary form from earlier Jewish writings and a Greek tradition of letters, then combines these two to address a time of crisis and persecution somewhere between the two Jewish wars. It does so by drawing on the earlier history of Jesus and by constructing a future resolution that brings a cosmic, timeless victory in behalf of Jesus’ followers. It also projects conflict with some types of synagogues. 3.3.3 The Apocalypse of Peter: A Response to Bar Kochba? The Apocalypse of Peter is very likely the work of Jewish Christians, and it is probably written in response to the Bar Kochba war (132–135 ce).21 This position is based on several factors. 21  These issues are discussed in C. Detlef G. Müller, “Apocalypse of Peter,” in New Testament Apocrypha, vol. 2, ed. W. Schneemelcher, trans. R. McL. Wilson (Louisville: Westminster/ John Knox, 1992), pp. 620–38; Richard Bauckham, “The Apocalypse of Peter: A Jewish Christian Apocalypse from the Time of Bar Kokhba,” Apocrypha 5 (1994), 7–111; Richard Bauckham, “Jews and Jewish Christians in the Land of Israel at the Time of the Bar Kochba War, with Special Reference to the Apocalypse of Peter,” in Tolerance and Intolerance in Early Judaism and Christianity, ed. Graham Stanton and Guy Stroumsa, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), pp. 228–38; Oskar Skarsaune, In the Shadow of the Temple: Jewish Influences on Early Christianity (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2002), pp. 201–02.

3.0 Projections of the Landscape after 70 ce

175

1. The dating of the text 2. Its assignment to the genre of Jewish apocalyptic 3. The reference of the text to the teachings of Jesus 4. Evidence of Bar Kochba’s harsh treatment of Jews who rejected his call to revolt.

The Apocalypse of Peter is usually dated to the first half of the 2nd century. Its apparent awareness of 4 Esdra and of 2 Peter places it clearly after the 1st century. If Eusebius is correct that Clement regards this work as a part of his canon of scripture (HE 6.14.1), then the date is likely no later than 150 ce. Furthermore, Clement likely cites from the text.22 Within this period, the most plausible point of reference for its treatment of false messiahs is the Bar Kochba revolt. The Apocalypse of Peter belongs clearly to the genre of Jewish apocalyptic. Among the characteristic traits are its concepts of revelation, hidden mysteries, judgment, angels, hell, heaven, the book of life, the God of Jacob. However, Christian references are found throughout. These include frequent use of the name of Jesus and various references to his teaching. Peter, of course, is the recipient of this revelation and instruction. Its connection to the Bar Kochba revolt is plausible. Evidence of Bar Kochba’s harsh treatment of Jews who refused to follow his lead continues to grow. This is particularly evident in extant letters from Bar Kochba. These components are likely brought together in the use of Jesus’ parable of the fig tree (Mk 13.28–30; Mt 24.32–35; Lk 21.29–33) in chapter 2 of the Apocalypse of Peter. Here the fig tree is identified explicitly with the nation of Israel. When the boughs of the tree have sprouted in the end time, a false messiah will come to inspire hope. Those who reject this false Christ will be killed, and there will be many martyrs by his hand, a focus that goes beyond the canonical accounts. Consequently, the Apocalypse of Peter is best explained as an apocalyptic text designed to vindicate and to bolster the faith of Jews who, because of their faithfulness to Jesus, have rejected the messianic revolt of a figure like Bar Kochba. It does so by its projection of an apocalyptic understanding of the events at hand. 3.3.4 Justin Martyr’s Sources: Another Response to Bar Kochba? In the mid 2nd century, Justin Martyr, in his Dialogue, recognizes two types of Jewish Christians. One type insists that all Christians are obligated to follow Jewish Law, while the other type does not require all followers of Jesus to keep Jewish Law. Justin concludes that only the second type of Jewish Christians will be saved (Dial. 47.1). It is clear, then, that Justin knows and even honors some forms of Jewish Christianity. It is also possible that Jewish Christian writings may underlie a significant 22 Clement’s

Eclogae propheticae 41.2 agrees with v. 26 of the Apocalypse of Peter.

176 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context portion of the work of Justin Martyr. Oskar Skarsaune argues that Justin, in addition to his use of the New Testament and patristic materials, used three distinct sources.23 Skarsaune connects two of these explicitly to Jewish Christianity. Skarsaune contends there is a source behind the proof from scripture passages in the First Apology (c. 150–155 ce) and in their parallels in the Dialogue. Skarsaune believes this source provides a creed-like account of Jesus’ messianic career, proven on the basis of scripture.24 The introduction to the scriptural proofs is given in chapter 31 of the First Apology, then the proofs are expounded in chapters 32–53. Skarsaune believes the outline for this scripture-based christological kerygma is provided in 31.7. In the books of the prophets … we found Jesus our Christ foretold as 1. coming to us 2. born of a virgin 3. reaching manhood 4. curing every disease and ailment, raising the dead to life 5. being hated, unrecognized, and crucified, dying 6. rising from the dead, ascending into heaven 7. and being called and actually being the Son of God, and that he would send certain persons to every nation to proclaim these things 8. and that men from the Gentiles rather [than the Jews] would believe in him.25

Skarsaune then seeks to show how these various moments in the messianic career of Jesus are grounded in proof from scripture in chapters 32–53 of the First Apology. 1. The coming of the Messiah: 1 Apol. 32 (Gen 49.10–11; Num 24.17/Isa 11.1/Isa 51.5). 2. The virgin birth: 1 Apol. 33–34 (Isa 7.14; Mic 5.1). 3. The hidden growing up: 1 Apol. 35.1–2 (Isa 9.5). 4. The healings: 1 Apol. 48.1–3 (Isa 35.5–6 etc.). 5. The passion, death [and resurrection] of the Messiah: 1 Apol. 35.3–11 (Isa 65.2/58.2; Ps 22.17/19; Zech 9.9); 1 Apol. 38 (Isa 65.2/58.2; Ps 22.19/17/Ps 3.6; Ps 22.8–9; Isa 50.6–8); 1 Apol. 50–51 (Isa 52.13–53.12). 23  Oskar Skarsaune, The Proof from Prophecy: A Study of Justin Martyr’s Proof-Text Tradition: Text-type, Provenance,Theological Profile (Leiden: Brill, 1987). A summary of this work in relation to Jewish Christianity is found in Skarsaune, “Jewish Christian Sources Used by Justin Martyr and Other Greek and Latin Fathers,” in Jewish Believers in Jesus, pp. 379–416. See the larger work in Oskar Skarsaune and Reidar Hvalvik, ed., Jewish Believers in Jesus: The Early Centuries (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2007). 24  Skarsaune calls this the “kerygma source” because he believes it provides a creed-like account of Jesus’ messianic career. 25 Skarsaune, “Jewish Christian Sources,” pp. 381–82.

3.0 Projections of the Landscape after 70 ce

177

  6. The ascension of the Messiah: 1 Apol. 51.7 (Ps 24.7–8).   7. The present reign of the Messiah: 1 Apol. 39–46 (Isa 2.3–4; Ps 19.3–6; Pss 1 and 2; Ps 96/1 Chr 16; Ps 110.1–3).   8. Gentiles believing rather than Jews: 1 Apol. 53 (Isa 54.1; Isa 1.9; Jer 9.26).   9. The glorious return of the Messiah: 1 Apol. 51.8–9 (Dan 7.13). 10. The resurrection of the dead to be judged: 1 Apol. 52 (Ezek 37.7–8; Isa 66.24; Zech 12.10–12).26

Skarsaune sees two striking characteristics in this extended treatment of Jesus’ messianic status. First, he notes the nature of its christology: in its over-all structure there is no trace of a Christology of divine pre-existence. The story of Jesus begins, as in Matthew and Luke, with the Messiah’s human birth by the Virgin.27

Secondly, there is a distinctly Jewish profile to the use of scriptural testimony. While New Testament testimonies tend to focus on the unforeseen and sometimes embarrassing elements of Jesus’ career, the approach used by Justin follows a more traditional Jewish pattern of messianic interpretation. This is seen, for example, in Justin’s opening use of Genesis 49.10–11 and Numbers 24.17. In first century Jewish messianic expectation, these two passages were the most important proof texts in the Torah, and in Targum Onqelos they are the only Torah texts applied to the messiah. Furthermore, Justin’s citation of Genesis 49.10 conforms to the Targum text rather than the Septuagint. Thus, the source used by Justin seems deeply rooted in the tradition of Jewish messianic exegesis. Skarsaune links the exegesis of this source to the difficulties caused by the Bar Kochba revolt – a generation before the writing of Justin.28 Following this internal analysis of Justin’s tradition of scriptural proof, Skarsaune suggests that there are three parallels to this tradition: the Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs, Recognitions 1.27–71 from the Pseudo-Clementine writings, and the Apocalypse of Peter. Moreover, this larger set of traditions has consistent connections to the thought world of the Gospel of Matthew.29 If Skarsaune is correct about Justin Martyr’s sources, this may an be account of the conflict that led up to the Bar Kochba revolt. Moreover, these texts may be directed against the leaders of the revolt.

26 Skarsaune,

“Jewish Christian Sources,” p. 382.  Skarsuane, “Jewish Christian Sources,” p. 382. 28  See the discussion in Skarsaune, “Jewish Christian Sources,” p. 383–85. 29 Skarsaune, “Jewish Christian Sources,” pp. 385–89. 27

178 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context 3.3.5 Hegesippus in the Words of Eusebius: A Virgin Church Corrupted by Heresies Eusebius draws upon traditions associated with Hegesippus to tell about the earliest days of the church. Hegesippus describes a period of ideal unity under the teaching and the leadership of the apostles. Only with the death of James (62 ce) do heresies intrude. Eusebius records the testimony of Hegesippus in this way: And after James the Just had suffered martyrdom, as the Lord had also on the same account, Symeon, the son of the Lord’s uncle, Clopas, was appointed the next bishop. All proposed him as second bishop because he was a cousin of the Lord. Therefore, they called the Church a virgin, for it was not yet corrupted by vain discourses. But Thebuthis, because he was not made bishop, began to corrupt it. He also was sprung from the seven sects among the people, like Simon, from whom came the Simonians, and Cleobius, from whom came the Cleobians, and Dositheus, from whom came the Dositheans, and Gorthaeus, from whom came the Goratheni, and Masbotheus, from whom came the Masbothaens. From them sprang the Menandrianists, and Marcionists, and Carpocratians, and Valentinians, and Basilidians, and Saturnilians. Each introduced privately and separately his own peculiar opinion. From them came false Christs, false prophets, false apostles, who divided the unity of the Church by corrupt doctrines uttered against God and against his Christ. (HE 4.22.4–5)

Eusebius then continues by recalling Hegesippus’ reference to sects among the Jews. The same writer also records the ancient heresies which arose among the Jews, in the following words: “There were, moreover, various opinions in the circumcision, among the children of Israel. The following were those that were opposed to the tribe of Judah and the Christ: Essenes, Galileans, Hemerobaptists, Masbothaens, Samaritans, Sadducees, Pharisees.” (HE 4.22.6)

Eusebius concludes his report on Hegesippus by noting the use of other texts. It is not clear whether he considers these questionable. And he wrote of many other matters, which we have in part already mentioned, introducing the accounts in their appropriate places. And from the Syriac Gospel according to the Hebrews he quotes some passages in the Hebrew tongue, showing that he was a convert from the Hebrews, and he mentions other matters as taken from the unwritten tradition of the Jews. And not only he, but also Irenaeus and the whole company of the ancients, called the Proverbs of Solomon All-virtuous Wisdom. And when speaking of the books called Apocrypha, he records that some of them were composed in his day by certain heretics. But let us now pass on to another. (HE 4.22.7–8)

Despite this focus on division, Eusebius passes on testimony from Hegesippus that in his own day (c. 110 to c. 180 ce) the church was united in one teaching and practice.

3.0 Projections of the Landscape after 70 ce

179

Hegesippus in the five books of Memoirs which have come down to us has left a most complete record of his own views. In them he states that on a journey to Rome he met a great many bishops, and that he received the same doctrine from all. (HE 4.22.1)

Hegesippus thus lobbies for a unified church built around the teaching of the apostles. He argues that the purity of the church began with the apostles and continues through the teaching of the prophets, but he then catalogues a variety of existing heresies. The pattern set by Hegesippus – an ideal unity contradicted by the realities of the age – will continue throughout the writings of the church fathers. 3.3.6 Irenaeus: A Cosmic Unity around the Gospels Irenaeus writes in Adversus Haereses: The Gospels could not possibly be either more or less in number than they are. Since there are four zones of the world in which we live, and four principal winds, while the Church is spread over all the earth, and the pillar and foundation of the Church is the gospel, and the Spirit of life, it fittingly has four pillars, everywhere breathing out incorruption and revivifying men. From this it is clear that the Word, the artificer of all things, being manifested to men gave us the gospel, fourfold in form but held together by one Spirit. As David said, when asking for his coming, ‘O sitter upon the cherubim, show yourself ’. For the cherubim have four faces, and their faces are images of the activity of the Son of God. For the first living creature, it says, was like a lion, signifying his active and princely and royal character; the second was like an ox, showing his sacrificial and priestly order; the third had the face of a man, indicating very clearly his coming in human guise; and the fourth was like a flying eagle, making plain the giving of the Spirit who broods over the Church. Now the Gospels, in which Christ is enthroned, are like these. (Adversus Haereses 3.11.8)

Irenaeus takes an unusal point of view on heresy. He believes it only exists as the counterpoint of the truth found in the gospels. Thus, division is only possible because of the unity of truth. Such, then, are the first principles of the Gospel: that there is one God, the Maker of this universe; He who was also announced by the prophets, and who by Moses set forth the dispensation of the law, – [principles] which proclaim the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, and ignore any other God or Father except Him. So firm is the ground upon which these Gospels rest, that the very heretics themselves bear witness to them, and, starting from these [documents], each one of them endeavours to establish his own peculiar doctrine. For the Ebionites, who use Matthew’s Gospel only, are confuted out of this very same, making false suppositions with regard to the Lord. But Marcion, mutilating that according to Luke, is proved to be a blasphemer of the only existing God, from those [passages] which he still retains. Those, again, who separate Jesus from Christ, alleging that Christ remained impassible, but that it was Jesus who suffered, preferring the Gospel by Mark, if they read it with a love of truth, may have their errors rectified. Those, moreover, who follow Valentinus, making copious use of that according to John, to illustrate their conjunctions, shall be proved to be totally in error by means of this very Gospel, as I have shown

180 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context in the first book. Since, then, our opponents do bear testimony to us, and make use of these [documents], our proof derived from them is firm and true. (Adversus Haereses 3.11.7)

Irenaeus thus poses a unity for the church that is written into the fabric of the universe. This is shown, for Irenaeus, by the four gospels. The massive amount of evidence of conflict and division is, for Irenaeus, a demonstration of the essential truth of the gospel. This patristic response to challenge and crisis is retrojected upon the earliest eras of the church, and this tradition will echo through centuries of subsequent writings. It then becomes a part of a grand narrative. The ideal of a church unified around apostolic teaching and practice will thrive and endure, in spite of, and even because of, the extensive evidence of variety, diversity, conflict and challenge within the Christian tradition. 3.3.7 The Letter to the Hebrews: A New Temple for a New Age The New Testament work that came to be known as Hebrews and was sometimes assigned to Paul is most likely a post-70 ce reflection on a world without the Temple. Using analytical, symbolic, and constructive language, this work seeks to sketch a new worldview for the post-Temple era. The central motif is the superiority of Christ to the ways of the Jewish ancestors. This theme is announced in the opening lines: “In many times and in various ways God spoke in the past to the ancestors through the prophets. In these last days God has spoken in a Son.” (Heb 1.1–2). Jesus is presented as superior to the prophets (Heb 1.1–3); to the angels (Heb 1.5–2.18); and even to Moses (3.1–6). Jesus brings a new covenant (Heb 9.15). This superiority is then unfolded in the comparison of Jesus to the priests of Israel. Christ’s priesthood is greater than that of the Levitical priests (Heb 4.14–7.28), and his sacrifice, offered in the heavenly sanctuary, surpasses all earthy offerings (Heb 8.1–10.39). The superiority of Jesus rests upon his role as the Son and in the final, eternal effect of his sacrifice. Jesus, in Hebrews, supercedes all that went before. After noting that Jesus came to do God’s will, Hebrews says: “He abolishes the first in order to establish the second. In this choice we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all” (Heb 10.10).30 Thus, the catastrophe of a templeless Israel is transformed, in the book of Hebrews, into the sign of a new age. Not only the Temple, but all of the traditions of the ancients have been surpassed and superceded in the faithful suffering and vindication of God’s Son. The followers of Jesus are encouraged to faithful endurance in the last days before the completion of the age: 30  The insistence the “he does away with the first in order to establish the second (τὸ δεύτερον)” may have a verbal connection to the tradition of the rabbis, which is sometimes called δευτύρωσις.

3.0 Projections of the Landscape after 70 ce

181

Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful. And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the day approaching. (Heb 10.23–25)

With incredible irony, Hebrews then offers a model by recalling the faith and endurance of the heroes among the ancients of Israel (Heb 11.1–12.2). A new unity is envisioned through obedience to the current leaders: Remember your leaders, those who spoke the word of God to you; consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith. … Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls and will give an account. (Heb 13.7–8,17)

The book of Hebrews thus employs a platonic model in which the earthly shadows of the past have been replaced by a new, heavenly reality, but it does so around the suffering and death of Jesus. This is presented as a Hebraic vision, and it is projected onto the landscape of Israel in the aftermath of the Temple. 3.4 Summation These texts do not provide a comprehensive account of the era, but they do illustrate various and conflicting ways in which the landscape between the 1st and 2nd Jewish Wars was understood. Two key motifs can be seen at work. In the first motif, a narrative of unity and cohesiveness is projected. Josephus wants the Romans to know that the troublemakers are dead and that the rest of Judaism is focused on its concern for piety. The rabbis project a unity around the chain of tradition that extends back to Moses, and they give their attention to the transmission of that tradition in the aftermath of the war. They are busy with their work and show little interest in external events. Philo sought, in a Greek world, to interpret Judaism as the preeminent philosophical system. Christian writers call for unity and faithfulness in the face of internal struggles, but they sometimes address external threats. Church fathers typically project an ideal unity around apostolic faith and practice. In a second motif, each of these narratives of coherence and unity is challenged by its own evidence. It is Josephus who records and defines the diversity of Judaism and the divisions caused by the war. It is the church fathers who tell us of the numerous conflicting ideas and practices at work in the early church. It is they who defend a four gospel canon so that Christians will not read the others. Perhaps the clearest demonstration of this conflict is seen in the two competing accounts – both Christian – that project the story of Jesus’ followers into the history of Israel. In one Israel’s rejection of the prophets is re-enacted in the story of Jesus and his followers. The rejection of Paul by the synagogues, and Paul’s counter rejection, becomes the occasion for the mission to the nations. The other narrative projects Jesus, in the form of the True Prophet, as a consistent part of Israel’s history of salvation. The leadership of Israel rejects the gospel largely

182 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context because of Paul, and this lost moment is a great tragedy for both traditions. The book of Acts and the Recognitions agree that followers of Jesus disagree with the leaders of Israel, but these two Christian narratives themselves disagree on why that is so and upon the consequences. These two texts  – Acts and Recognitions  – illustrate the divided landscape in the period between the two Jewish Wars. While numerous works project an ideal unity upon the period, these ideals are refuted by the reality of the details.

4.0 Scholarly Reconstructions It should come as no surprise that scholars read these messages in different ways. As a consequence, the formative period of rabbinic Judaism is the subject of debate, as is the formative period of Christianity. This further complicates any discussion of how these two emerging traditions were interconnected in their formative years. The landscape is a complex one, as are the interrelated constructs built upon it, and this makes it difficult to map. This complexity can be illustrated in the scholarly debates over this historical context. 4.1 Formative Judaism The landscape of Jewishness has been mapped in various ways for the period before and after the 1st Jewish War. The key debate is over the question of coherence versus diversity. This can be illustrated in various lines of scholarship. 4.1.1 Common Judaism Ed Sanders argues that, despite the diversity in belief and practice, there is a coherent entity that can be described in this period as Judaism. This common Judaism is built around five major elements.31 1. Common worship practices of daily and weekly worship, including the Shema Israel, the 10 commandments, prayer, scripture 2. Observation of the Sabbath as a day of worship and rest 3. Circumcision of males 4. Some forms and rituals of purity 5. The Temple 31  See, among others, E. P. Sanders, Judaism: Practice and Belief 63 b.c.e.–66 c.e. (London/ Philadelphia: SCM/Trinity Press International, 1992); “The Dead Sea Sect and Other Jews: Commonalities, Overlaps and Differences,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls in Their Historical Context, ed. Timothy H. Lim et al. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000), pp. 7–43. Sanders’ work is discussed in relation to Greek and Latin authors by Shaye Cohen in “Common Judaism in Greek and Latin Authors,” in Redefining First-Century Jewish and Christian Identities: Essays in Honor of Ed Parish Sanders, ed. Fabian Udoh (Notre Dame:University of Notre Dame Press, 2008), pp. 69–87.

4.0 Scholarly Reconstructions

183

There are, of course, various ways in which Jews practice each of the elements, but it was, says Sanders, the common embrace and practice of these core components that defined one as a Jew and created the entity of Judaism. Embracing a similar list, Lee Levine echoes the idea of a common Judaism: … any discussion of Jewish identity in antiquity must recognize the fact that by the later Second Temple period Jews had developed a corporate identity with a significant degree of cultural and religious commonality, not to speak of a growing repertoire of historical memories. This identity played a crucial role in forging and enhancing communal, ethnic, and religious commonality, as well as a degree of continuity from one generation to the next.32

Levine emphasizes that “this commonality, minus the Temple-related customs, continued to characterize Jewish life in the post-70 era as well.”33 The concept of a common Judaism in place both before and after the fall of the Temple represents an expansion, in scope and dimension, of Josephus’ claim that the Jews are one people: “In no other city let there be either altar or temple; for God is one and the Hebrew race is one.” (Ant 4.201). The question, of course, is whether this concept is adequate to explain the diverse ways in which Judaism is understood and practiced at any one moment and place. The concept is further strained by the geographical and cultural expanse, and it is challenged further by the dramatic changes imposed by the 1st Jewish War. Many scholars would suggest the idea of a common Judaism is a construct that breaks down under these challenges. 4.1.2 Many Judaisms Numerous scholars believe the ideal of a common Judaism collapses under the weight of the details. Judaism is articulated in diverse geographical and cultural locations, in different languages, in various political systems, in different time periods, and through various strategies of engagement, withdrawal, and resistance. Scholars typically uses the term sect to refer to the any of the varieties of Judaism before the formation of the Mishnah (c. 200 ce).34 However, Lawrence Schiffman insists that “Only after Judaism converged around the ‘mainstream’ of tannaitic Judaism, a process which took centuries, can the term ‘sect’ be used to describe those who diverged from its dominant or authoritative form.”35 Thus, there could be no sect if there was no norm. Even then there was no central belief system, since rabbinic material is o ­ riented toward proper praxis. Emmanuel Rackman noted that 32  Lee Levine, “Jewish Identities in Antiquity: An Introductory Essay” in Jewish Identities in Antiquity, ed. Lee Levine and Daniel Schwartz (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), p. 27. 33 Levine, “Jewish Identities,” p. 27, note 49. 34  This is also the term used by Josephus to describe the various groups within Judaism. 35  Lawrence Schiffman, From Text to Tradition: A History of Second Temple and Rabbinic Judaism (Hoboken: Ktav Publishing, 1991), p. 5.

184 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context Even with regard to doctrine, such a divergence of opinion has prevailed among the giants of the Tradition that only one dogma enjoys universal acceptance: the Pentateuch’s text was given to the Jewish people by God.36

Consequently, many scholars find it difficult to define Judaism as a coherent entity. Many now speak, with Jacob Neusner, not of Judaism, but of Judaisms. Neusner refers to the entire period from the time of the return from Babylon (ca. 500 ce) to the fall of the Temple (70 ce), as the “first age of diversity.”37 This period was marked by the establishment of the Torah and its interpretation as the central focus of Jewish life. Neusner insists that all of the various forms of Judaism are held together by a religious thread: It is a single ecology, made up of two components: first the permanent and ubiquitous appeal to the Torah, that is, the Five Books of Moses … and, second the inquiry into the Torah to make sense of the diverse circumstances of various groups …”38

The priests who survived the destruction of the Temple in 586 bce produced the Hebrew Bible in the form of the Tanakh, composed not only of the Law, but also from prophetic materials and other writings. But these priests did not provide a solitary form of Judaism: During this same period a number of diverse groups of Jews, living in the Land of Israel as well as in Babylonia, to the east, and in Alexandria, in Egypt, to the west, took over these writings and interpreted them in diverse ways. Hence during the period from the formation of the Torah-book to the destruction of the second Temple, there were many Judaisms.39

Neusner labels the period from 70 ce to 640 ce (from the fall of the second Temple to the Islamic conquest) as the age of definition. Neusner contends this period was dominated by three groups: priests, scribes, and Zealots. The Zealots dominated until their demise at the end of the second revolt (135 ce). The priests and scribes were fused in the aftermath of these events. It was only then that rabbinic Judaism emerged around the two lines of Torah – the Hebrew Bible and the oral tradition enshrined finally in the Talmud.40 Describing the first century ce, Neusner insists that “for this period no such thing as ‘normative Judaism’ existed from which one or another ‘heretical’ group might diverge.”41 Any claim to continuity is further challenged by scholars

 Emmanuel Rackman, “A Challenge to Orthodoxy,” Judaism 18 (1969), p. 143. Neusner, “Defining Judaism,” in The Blackwell Companion to Judaism, ed. Jacob Neusner and Alan Avery-Peck (Oxford: Blackwell, 2000, 2003), pp. 3–19. The “second age of diversity” is from 1800 to the present. 38 Neusner, “Defining Judaism,” p. 8. 39  Neusner, “Defining Judaism,” p. 15. 40  Neusner, “Defining Judaism,” pp. 16–17. 41 Jacob Neusner, A Life of Yohanan ben Zakkai. Ca. 1–80 C. E. (Leiden: Brill, 1970), p. 25. 36

37 Jacob

4.0 Scholarly Reconstructions

185

who question the direct identification of rabbinic Judaism with the Pharisees described by Josephus and by the New Testament. Daniel Boyarin has challenged the concept of a unified Judaism, but he does so from the perspective of the borderline relationship between Jews and Christians. Boyarin seeks to locate such groups on a continuum of ideas and practices.42 Noting that Judaism, for its self-definition, depends in large part upon Christianity as a contrasting other, Boyarin suggests that a continuum with definitive end points can help to clarify the relationship. In other words, one can model a situation in which there will be persons or groups who will clearly be “Christian” or “non-Christian Jewish,” that is, who will form definable clusters of religious features, while the boundaries between the two categories will remain undefinable.43

Boyarin sometimes refers to such middle groups as a part of Judaism, but he also refers to Judaeo-Christianity. Theoretically, there needs to be no one set of features shared by all members of such a group, but Boyarin suggests there is a common base. There is, perhaps, one feature that constitutes all as members of the Judeao-Christian semantic family: appeal to the Hebrew Scriptures as revelation. In all other aspects, the category of Jews/Christians constitutes a family in which any one sub-group might share features with any other (on either side of that supposed divide) but not all features with any, and there is no one set of features that uniquely determines a Christian group (except, of course, for some appeal to Jesus, which is simply an analytic statement and therefore tautologous) over and against a non-Christian group.44

Boyarin believes this complexity is blurred by historical attempts to define Judaism and Christianity. He points to writers and speakers who wish to transform the fuzzy category into one with absolutely clear borders and the family resemblance into a checklist of features that will determine an intensional definition for who is in and who is out of the group as it defines itself and, therefore, others. … These are the writers whom we know of now as heresiologists. The discursive practice known as heresiology was crucial in the formation of Judaism and Christianity as religions for all that it appeared in very different textual guise in each of these cultures.45

While some define a common Judaism, scholars like Neusner and Boyarin believe such descriptions are inappropriate, both before and after the fall of the 42  Daniel Boyarin, “Semantic Differences; or ‘Judaism’ / ‘Christianity,’” in The Ways that Never Parted, ed. Adam Becker and Annette Reed (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), pp. 76–77. 43  Daniel Boyarin, “”Semantic Differences,” pp. 65–85. Boyarin’s ideas are developed in two other works: Dying for God: Martyrdom and the Making of Christianity and Judaism (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1999); Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004). 44  Boyarin, “Semantic Differences,” p. 79. 45 Boyarin, “Semantic Differences,” pp. 84–85.

186 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context Temple. Other scholars, however, offer a different focal point by seeing the 1st Jewish War as a defining moment in the history of Judaism. 4.1.3 From Monism to Pluralism Shaye Cohen challenges the view that a Pharisaic academy at Yavneh (Jamnia), in the period of crisis after the fall of the Temple, eradicated its opposition and imposed its will on all forms of Judaism.46 Noting the work of George Moore, Jacob Neusner, and W. D. Davies,47 Cohen seeks to revise and to realign the standard model. Cohen assumes that Jewish society in the period before the fall of the Temple, was “striated by numerous ‘sects’” and that “the Pharisees were one of those sects.”48 He then notes the way these realities have led to other assumptions: According to the usual view, sectarianism ceased when the Pharisees, gathered at Yavneh, ejected all those who were not members of their own party. Christians were excommunicated, the biblical canon was purged of works written in Greek and apocalyptic in style, and the gates were closed on the outside world, both Jewish and non-Jewish. Functioning in a “crisis” atmosphere, the rabbis of Yavneh were motivated by an exclusivistic ethic; their goal was to define orthodoxy and to rid Judaism of all those who would not conform to it. In this interpretation the “synod” of Yavneh becomes a prefiguration of the church council of Nicea (325 C. E.): one party triumphs and ousts it competitors. In addition, we are told, the Sadducees, Essenes, and, presumably, all other sects, conveniently rolled over and died, thereby facilitating Pharisaic victory. The Sadducees, bereft of the temple, were bereft of their livelihood and power base. The Essenes perished in the great war against the sons of darkness.49

Cohen notes several problems with this model: it is overly simplistic, it presumes a crisis mode, it presumes more about Yavneh than we know, and, most importantly for Cohen, it obscures the major contribution of Yavneh. Cohen argues that the presence of the Temple in the pre-70 era represents a monism, and this was the basis for sectarianism. Sects defined themselves in reference to the temple and therefore arrogated the temple’s exclusive claims.

46  Shaye Cohen, “The Significance of Yavneh” in The Significance of Yavneh and Other Essays in Jewish Hellenism (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010). 47 George F. Moore, Judaism in the First Centuries of the Christian Era, 3 vols. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1927); W. D. Davies, The Setting of the Sermon on the Mount; Jacob Neusner, “The Formation of Rabbinic Judaism: Yavneh (Jamnia) from A. D. 70 to 100,” Aufsteig und Niedergang der römschen Welt II, 19.2, ed. H. Temporini and W. Haase (Berlin: de Gruyter Press, 1979). 48  Cohen, “The Significance of Yavneh,” p. 46. 49 Cohen, “The Significance of Yavneh,” p. 45

4.0 Scholarly Reconstructions

187

… Some of the sects admitted that the temple was still legitimate to one degree or another, but all the sects argued that every variety of Judaism other than their own is illegitimate. This is the monism of the temple transferred to the sect.50

Cohen argues that “With the disappearance of the temple, the focal point of sectarianism also disappeared.”51 Noting that “at no point in antiquity did the rabbis clearly see themselves either as Pharisees or as the descendants of Pharisees,”52 Cohen believes the rabbis at Yavneh shifted their focus. Perhaps many, if not most, of the sages there assembled were Pharisees or the descendants of Pharisees, but they made little of their ancestry. Their interest was the future, not the past. There is little evidence for “witchhunting” in general and anti-Christian activity in particular. The sages were not a party triumphant which closed the ranks, defined orthodoxy, and expelled the unwanted. Yavneh was a grand coalition of different groups and parties, held together by the belief that sectarian self-identification was a thing of the past and that individuals may disagree with each other in matters of law while remaining friends.53

Cohen, however, seems to miss the irony of his final lines: Those who refused to join the coalition and insisted on sectarian self-definition were branded minim and cursed. Those rabbis who could not learn the rules of pluralism and mutual tolerance were banned.54

Other scholars do not believe the post-70 period was so simple or so friendly, nor that it represents a dramatic change from the pre-war era. 4.1.4 Grumbling Tolerance Martin Goodman challenges both sides of Cohen’s model.55 He intends to Re-examine this analysis, in particular by questioning whether any of the groups attested from pre-70 Judaism really separated themselves from the Temple, and whether variety within Judaism really came to an end after 70 when the Temple was destroyed.56

Goodman acknowledges that first century Judaism was varied, but he does not accept the talk of Judaisms in the plural.57 He argues that a lowest common denominator remains that would include all Jews:  Cohen, “The Significance of Yavneh,” p. 65. “The Significance of Yavneh,” p. 48. 52  Cohen, “The Significance of Yavneh,” p. 57. 53  Cohen, “The Significance of Yavneh,” p. 67. 54 Cohen, “The Significance of Yavneh,” p. 67. 55  Martin Goodman, “Religious Variety and the Temple,” pp. 21–37. 56  Goodman, “Religious Variety and the Temple,” p. 21. 57 Goodman, “Religious Variety and the Temple,” p. 22, notes that no one in antiquity spoke this way, and outsiders spoke collectively of Judaism. He also notes an exception to the common Judaism defined by Sanders: the extreme allegorists mentioned by Philo in De Migratione Abrahami, 89–93. 50

51 Cohen,

188 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context it is empirically the case that all those individuals and groups who presented themselves in this period as pious Jews worshipped the God who was worshipped in Jerusalem, and accepted that the Torah, enshrined in the Pentateuch, encapsulates a covenant between God and Israel incumbent on all Jews.58

Goodman specifically argues that pre-70 Judaism was not divided over the role of the Temple. He takes seriously the description of Josephus, for whom the practices of various sects does not take away from the unity of the Jewish people. To this cause above all [i. e. our education in our laws] we owe our admirable harmony. Unity and identity of religious belief, perfect uniformity in habits and customs, produce a very beautiful concord in human character. Among us alone will be heard no contradictory statements about God, such as are common among other nations, nor only on the lips of ordinary individuals under the impulse of some passing mood, but even boldly propounded by philosophers; some putting forward crushing arguments against the very existence of God, others depriving Him of his providential care for mankind. Among us alone will be seen no difference in the conduct of our lives. With us all act alike, all profess the same doctrine about God, one which is in harmony with our Law and affirms that all things are under His eye. Even our womenfolk and our dependents would tell you that piety must be the motive of all our occupations in life. (Contra Apionem 2.179–181)59

Goodman notes that Josephus “evidently saw no contradiction between this picture of unity and uniformity and his account of the Jewish haireseis in his earlier writings ….”60 Goodman also challenges the notion that the sectarians who gathered the Dead Sea Scrolls had separated from the Temple.61 Goodman believes that Judaism is no more nor no less sectarian in the aftermath of the 1st Jewish War. What has changed is not the level of sectarianism nor the level of uniformity. Thus any change in the evidence for continued disagreements between groups after the destruction of the Temple in 70 should be interpreted not as evidence of the end of variety within Judaism but as evidence of the end of a public stage on which such variety was visible. When groups of Jews disagreed with each other after 70, they did not need to confront each other with their differences since each group could exist in untroubled isolation from other Jews.62

Goodman believes other factors contributed to the appearance of uniformity: after 100 ce Christians were less likely to preserve Jewish literature in Greek because they were writing their own; the failure of rabbis to preserve Jewish literature that was written in Greek; the rabbis’ lack of interest in other groups.63 58 Goodman,

“Religious Variety and the Temple,” p. 22.  Loeb translation, cited in Goodman, “Religious Variety and the Temple,” pp. 24–25. 60  Goodman, “Religious Variety and the Temple,” p. 25. 61 Goodman, “Religious Variety and the Temple,” pp. 25–31. He also questions the identification of the Dead Sea community as Essenes. 62  Goodman, “Religious Variety and the Temple,” p. 33. 63 Goodman, “Religious Variety and the Temple,” p. 33. 59

4.0 Scholarly Reconstructions

189

Noting that Josephus, writing in the 90s and speaking in the present tense, says that Pharisees, Sadducees, and Essenes are still the main philosophies of Judaism, Goodman argues for continued variety within post-70 Judaism. He believes that Josephus’ account of the religious civil strife in the final days of the Temple is the exception that proves the rule. But the religious civil strife … was precisely not the standard among Jews. On the contrary, the most striking aspect of Jewish history in this period is not violence but the continuing theme of grumbling tolerance. Where Christian history has often been a Shakespearian tragedy, with dead bodies strewn across the stage in the final act, the history of Judaism has more resembled a tragedy by Chekhov, with all the actors still alive and together at the end – but miserable.64

4.1.5 The Truth is in the Details Some scholars have posed a commonality that defines Judaism and endures beyond the 1st Jewish War. Some argue that there was no definitive norm before the later rabbinic period. Others contend the 1st War ended the period of division and resulted in the uniformity of rabbinic standards. Goodman argues that the 1st Jewish War changed the context, but not the essence of Jewish identity: various sects sharing the elements of a common faith. I would argue that a grand narrative of unity was proferred for Judaism, both before and after 70 ce. I would also argue that for both periods this ideal is challenged by the details. Both eras were posed under a grand narrative of unity, and both of these constructs carry the evidence of their own demise. The idea of a Common Judaism is attractive, but it survives only by relativizing the numerous contradictions. For example, all Jews may believe in the Pentateuch, but some Jews believe that only believing in the Pentateuch is wrong. There are those who believe and practice the Law and worship the one God, but they do so from Mount Gerazim. Others are said to pray to the rising sun. The profile and practice of the Samaritans proves a special challenge to the idea of a common heritage. Most scholars simply say the Samaritans do not count as Jews because they are not Jews. In a similar way, scholars will contend there is only one Temple just after naming the possibility of four others. It is not clear that Josephus would count the Fourth Philosophy among the Jews, and the Zealots took it upon themselves to remove some Jews. Before the rebels fought the Romans in Jerusalem, they fought each other. There was one Jew who ransacked the Temple and predicted its demise, and he did it while quoting the prophets of Israel. Another Jew stood in the Jordan and called the entire nation to repent and – like proseltyes – to be baptized. Moreover, both grand narratives – before and after 70 ce – employ arguments based on silence. We do not know, and they 64 Goodman,

“Religious Variety and the Temple,” pp. 35–36.

190 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context did not say, what people believed and practiced in the struggles of daily life in the streets of Jerusalem, among the villages of the Galilee, and along the roads of the Diaspora. Josephus’ comparison of the Jewish sects to philosophical societies who pose no threat to unity is just as untenable as is the presumption that all post-70 Judaism is rabbinic. Both claims sponsor grand narratives that cannot be sustained by the realities on the ground. The clearest articulation of this contradiction may be enunciated in the vision of unity projected by the Mishnah. “All of Israel have a place in the world to come,” says the Mishnah (Sanhedrin 10.1). It then offers an extensive list of those from Israel who, in fact, have no place in the world to come. Among these excluded Jews are those who do not believe in the resurrection from the dead (Sadducees), those who read non-canonical books, those who practice certain healing rituals, and those who improperly pronounce the name of God. As in the world to come, so in the formative history of Judaism: the narrative of unity is refuted by the particulars upon which it is built. 4.2 Formative Christianity The period before and after the 1st Jewish War was also decisive in the formation of Christianity. We observed earlier the many voices and concepts through which this historical era was projected in various writings. We ask now about scholarly attempts to reconstruct the history of this period and its role in the formation of Christianity. 4.2.1 The Peace of the Church Formative Christianity has been framed around the model of Nicea. Here, in 325 ce, Constantine assembled the bishops and leaders with the assignment to declare a unified understanding of Jesus. Those who disagreed were defined as heretics and even as criminals. In earlier scholarship this was often refered to as “the Peace of the Church.” Here the peace is made with Rome, but this peace also redefines the relationship between Christianity and Judaism. While most scholars of early Christianity now hold a more complex model, the interpretive framework is little changed. Moreover, the earlier centuries have been read through the 4th century developments. Shaye Cohen notes how this model has also been applied by Christian scholars to the development of rabbinic Judaism.65 Most New Testament scholars, however, push the definition of Christianity as a coherent, unified movement into a much earlier period. The key issue debated is when and how did the followers of Jesus separate from the synagogues and 65 Cohen,

“The Significance of Yavneh,” p. 45.

4.0 Scholarly Reconstructions

191

become a distinct movement. The question of the “parting of the ways” dominated two centuries of New Testament scholarship, and it remains influential in a great deal of contemporary work. It is built on the presumption that there were two early, definable movements and that they separated in distinct and comprehensive ways early in the common era. 4.2.2 The Parting of the Ways In the field of New Testament studies, most of the history of scholarship has presumed that Judaism and Christianity experienced a “parting of the ways.” Where this divide is presumed, the only remaining issues are when and how this split occurred. Scholars have defined several turning points: 1. the ministry of Jesus; 2. the division within the Jerusalem church between Hebrews and Hellenists; 3. the diversity and openness of the church at Antioch; 4. the mission of Paul to the Gentiles; 5. the 1st Jewish War (66 – 74 ce); 6. tension with the synagogues reflected in the Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of John; 7. the 2nd Jewish War (132 – 135 ce).

Some scholars take one of these as the singular moment that marked Judaism and Christianity as distinct entities. Others imagine a process of separation that involved several decisive moments. 4.2.2.1 Patterns of Parting in New Testament Scholarship Many scholars have argued that the line separating Judaism from Christianity was drawn by Jesus. Adolf Harnack articulated this position at the beginning of the 20th century: “By their rejection of Jesus the Jewish people disowned their calling and dealt the death-blow to their own existence  ….”66 Harnack believed that Judaism was inferior to Greek culture, so Christianity naturally was attracted to Hellenism. Consequently, Judaism and Jewish Christianity, says Harnack, had no significant impact on the formation of the church. They had already parted ways. Adolf Schlatter, in the 1920s, held a similar view of Jesus: “From the very beginning, his work had led him on a course that separated him thoroughly from Judaism.”67 For Schlatter, this parting of the ways is a historical reality recorded 66  Adolf von Harnack, The Expansion of Christianity in the First Three Centuries, trans. James Moffatt (London: Williams and Norgate, 1904 [German edition 1902] ), vol. 1, pp. 81–82. 67  Adolf Schlatter, Die Geschichte des Christus (Stuttgart: Calwer, 1923), trans. by Andreas Köstenberger as The History of the Christ: The Foundation of New Testament Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1997), p. 206.

192 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context in the book of Acts, and the speech of Stephen provided the first occasion to recognize this fundamental difference. Hans Conzelmann, writing in the 1980s, believed the ways parted in the preaching of Jesus: “It is immediately obvious that this preaching had to lead to a fundamental conflict with all the trends within Judaism.”68 This conflict, said Conzelmann, “is inherent in the existence of the church itself. It will last as long as church and synagogue exist side by side.”69 For Conzelmann, this early parting was an intrinsic necessity. Building on the work of Conzelmann, Peter Stuhlmacher suggested in the 1990s that Paul founded a school and a teaching tradition among his followers.70 The christological tradition of this school was first published in the Pastoral Epistles in the aftermath of Paul’s death. But the origins of this christology, says Stuhlmacher, are to be found in Jesus’ messianic self-consciousness. This christology is the line of demarcation between Christians and pagans, says Stuhlmacher, but also between Christians and Jews who do not believe in Jesus as the Lord and messiah.71 Numerous scholars offer a nuanced form of this argument: a later split represents the full flowering of the uniqueness of Jesus’ own ministry. Martin Hengel described several stages of parting.72 The earliest and most significant of these is between the Hebrews and Hellenists in the early Jerusalem community. Though both sides were influenced by the preaching of Jesus, Hengel believed it was the Hellenists who caught the liberal spirit of Jesus. He presupposed that the ‘Hellenists’ presented arguments the foundation of which is to be sought in the message of Jesus himself. They called for the abolition of Temple worship and the revision of the law of Moses in the light of the true will of God. … That means that the ‘Hellenists’ put forward the offensive claim that the significance of Jesus as the Messiah of Israel essentially 68  Hans Conzelmann, “Jesus Christ,” in RGG, 3rd ed. (1959), translated by Raymond Lord as Jesus: The Classic Article from RGG Expanded and Updated, ed. John Reumann (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1973), p. 54. 69 Hans Conzelmann, Gentiles-Jews-Christians: Polemics and Apologetics in the Greco-Roman world, trans. Eugene Boring (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992 [German edition, 1981]), p. 257. 70 Peter Stuhlmacher, “Das Christusbild der Paulus-Schule – eine Skizze,” in Jews and Christian: The Parting of the Ways A. D. 70–135, ed. James D. G. Dunn (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1992), pp. 158–75. 71 Stuhlmacher, “Christusbild,” p. 175, concludes: “Schauen wir zurück, ergibt sich eine klare Linie: Die von Jesu messianischem Sendungsbewusstsein ausgehende und in seiner Passion und Auferweckung gründende Christologie ist der eigentliche Beweggrund für die Trennung von den (nicht an Jesus als Herrn und Messias glaubenden) Juden (und Heiden) und den Christen. Die Traditionen der von Paulus begründeten Schule lassen besonders klar erkennen, wie diese Christologie entstanden ist und was sie besagt. Paulus und seine Schüler haben sie zur entscheidenden Lehrnorm der Kirche erhoben. Der von ihnen beschrittene Weg kann nur um den Preis des Evangeliums und des christlichen Glaubens rückgäng gemacht warden.” 72  Martin Hengel, Acts and the History of Earliest Christianity, trans. John Bowden (London: SCM Press, 1979 [1st German edition, 1979]).

4.0 Scholarly Reconstructions

193

superseded that of Moses in the history of salvation: the gospel of Jesus took the place of the Jewish gospel of exodus and Sinai as God’s concluding, imcomparable eschatological revelation. They understood their authority to make this criticism as a gift of the spirit, which they saw as a sign of the dawning of the eschatological age.73

Hengel suggested the next stage saw the distinctions between Hebrews and Hellenists grow starker. The Aramaic-speaking Jewish Christians had a more restrained  – one might also say more conservative – attitude towards the Law. They remained more deeply rooted in the religious tradition of Palestine, which from the time of the Maccabees inevitably regarded any attack on Torah and Temple as sacrilege. Of course we should not suppose that in the earliest period even they were so strict about keeping the law as the Jerusalem community under the leadership of James seems to have been at a later stage …74

Hengel believed the decisive break came at the apostolic council in Jerusalem (Acts 15; Gal. 2.1–10). Luke says the council resulted in a letter from the Jerusalem leaders that affirmed Paul’s work and placed limited rules on Gentile converts. In Galatians, however, Paul says nothing of a letter or of any rules imposed on Gentile believers. He reports instead on a division of the mission field: the leaders agreed “that we should go to the Gentiles and they to the circumcised” (Gal 2.9). The only obligation placed on Paul was to remember the poor. Hengel believed this marks the parting of the ways between two types of Christianity. Paul drew upon the Hellenists’ criticism of the Law and began an independent mission to the Roman provinces. Hengel thus described two lines of separation, one internal and one external. For Hengel, Christianity has its primary development along an axis of liberal thought running from Jesus to the Hellenists to Paul and Gentile Christianity. While Hengel focused on the internal tensions, his model means that Christianity separated ideologically from Temple and synagogue in its earliest stages, and it did so because it drew upon the teachings of Jesus. While Hengel focused on the apostolic council, the fall of the Temple at the end of the 1st Jewish War (70 ce) is seen by many, if not most, as the decisive moment. This view dominated through much of the 20th century. Of the four major types of Jews named by Josephus (Pharisees, Sadducees, Essenes, and Zealots), only the Pharisees were thought to have survived the 1st Jewish War with any real authority or coherence. This left Pharisees and Christians to fight over the heritage of Israel, a conflict that seems to be at the forefront of the gospels and Acts. The expulsion of Christians from the synagogues and the formal curse against followers of Jesus were said to follow close upon the fall of the Temple, and these events seem to be echoed in the Fourth Gospel and in the Gospel of Matthew.

 Hengel, Acts, pp. 72–73. Acts, p. 73.

73

74 Hengel,

194 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context These events are often seen as the final episodes in the story sketched out by Luke: the Christian movement begins in Jerusalem among Jewish followers of Jesus, but it moves quickly into the Greek-speaking world under the patronage of Stephen, the Antioch church, and the missionary work of Paul. The turning of Paul’s mission to the Gentiles is, for Luke, occasioned by the rejection of the gospel by Jews (Acts 13.46; 18.6; 28.25). Many scholars see this separation completed in the aftermath of the fall of the Temple. James Dunn envisions a longer, more nuanced sequence of developments. His 1991 analysis, entitled The Partings of the Ways, emphasized multiple points of departure, though chapter 12 is entitled “The Parting of the Ways.”75 Dunn believes the strands began to pull apart in the 1st century over each of four main pillars of Second Temple Judaism: monotheism, election, covenant (Torah), and land (Temple). Dunn believes separation was not immediate or sudden: “It began with Jesus, but without Easter and the broadening out of the gospel to the Gentiles the two currents might have been contained within the same banks.”76 Dunn believes the Stephen episode and the book of Hebrews point to a distancing from the Temple that marks “the first parting of the ways.”77 For the Judaism focused on Temple and ethnic identity, Paul and the Gentile mission represent an irreparable breach: this can be described as a “further parting of the ways.”78 For Jews who affirmed the unity of God in traditional terms, the affirmation of Jesus as the incarnation of the divine Word or of divine Wisdom had no place in the synagogue: this marked a “particularly crucial parting of the ways.”79 “And so the ways parted,” says Dunn, “and have remained apart ever since.”80 Unlike much of 20th century scholarship, Dunn does not believe that the crisis precipitated by the 1st Jewish War and the fall of the Temple mark the final parting of the ways. The period between the two Jewish wars (70–135 ce), however, was decisive: “after the second revolt the separation of the main bodies of Christianity and Judaism was clear-cut and final; whatever interaction there was continued to be at the margins.”81 Dunn adds a further disclaimer to his reconstruction: “The parting of the ways was more between mainstream Christianity and Jewish Christianity than

75 James D. G. Dunn, The Partings of the Ways Between Christianity and Judaism and their Significance for the Character of Christianity (London: SCM Press, 1991). Some change of view is noted in the 2nd edition of 1996. Dunn edited an earlier work entitled Jews and Christians: The Parting of Ways, A. D. 70–135 (Tübingen: Mohr, 1989). 76  Dunn, Partings, p. 230. 77  Dunn, Partings, p. 230. 78 Dunn, Partings, p. 230. 79  Dunn, Partings, p. 230. 80  Dunn, Partings, p. 230. 81 Dunn, Partings, p. 238.

4.0 Scholarly Reconstructions

195

simply between Christianity as a whole and rabbinic Judaism.”82 Nonetheless, his assessment of Jewish Christianity is a typical reflection of the patristic view: Whether Jewish Christianity could or should have been retained within the spectrum of catholic Christianity is an important question which it may now be impossible to answer. Within two or three centuries it had ceased to be important anyway, once the Jewish Christian sects withered and died, presumably by absorption into rabbinic Judaism on the one side, and into catholic Christianity on the other, or just by the slow death of failure to regenerate.83

When the history of scholarship on the “parting of the ways” is viewed as a whole, a clear pattern of development can be seen. At the first stage of scholarship, Jesus was understood in distinction from Judaism. Indeed, one method for isolating authentic sayings of Jesus was to apply a criterion of dissimilarity with 1st century Judaism. Scholarship eventually found in the Lukan account a more nuanced sequence: the gospel moves in a rather straightforward way from Jesus to the apostolic community to the Greek-speaking world to the capital of the empire. This Lukan paradigm was taken as a sufficient historical account for the development of Christianity as a Gentile, westernized movement. A third stage of sophistication was reached when the events of the 1st Jewish War were added to the Lukan model. A parting of the ways and the dominance of Gentile Christianity now seemed to be the logical outcome of this catastrophe. A further level of sophistication took into account the events in the years between the two Jewish revolts (70–132 ce). This view suggested that a clear demarcation between Judaism and Christianity attained permanent status by 135 ce. As these developments show, the key presumption remained the same. The persistent question was not whether Christiainity defined itself over against Judaism, but rather when and how. Most New Testament scholars describe Judaism after 135 ce in the model of the rabbis. Christianity is defined by the emergence of institutional leadership, by uniformity of doctrine, and in light of the developing canon. But it was also defined by what it was not – it had long since parted ways with Judaism. Several aspects of this paradigm are disturbing. Almost without exception, this model presumes there was a sense of inevitability to this separation: something within the teaching of Jesus or Paul or Christianity was ultimately incompatible with any form of Judaism that survived. Morever, there appears to be something necessary and essential: it was its separation from Judaism that defined the Christian movement. More disturbing is the sense of social evolution that sometimes accompanies this model. The Christianity that emerged from the struggle with Judaism is  Dunn, Partings, p. 239. Partings, p. 239.

82

83 Dunn,

196 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context frequently said to be liberated from legalism, nationalism, and hypocrisy and to be adapted in its mindset, language, and forms to the superior demands of the Graeco-Roman world. Christianity’s ideological conquest of the Roman emperor and the Roman empire are seen as the final evidence of this superiority. 4.2.2.2 The Parting of the Ways as a Paradigm for Christian Identity This paradigm of parting is used for reconstructing the relationship of church and synagogue, but it also is used to define Christianity. The separation from Judaism provides the blueprint for almost every reconstruction of primitive Christianity as a religious and social movement. Although attention is given in these studies to issues of theology and to the sociological impact of missionary activity, the Lukan paradigm dominates this field as well. In most reconstructions of primitive Christian identity, Judaism is the background from which Christianity emerges as a distinct religion. This pattern can be illustrated in the recent works of Gerd Theissen and Gerd Lüdemann. Gerd Theissen argues that Christianity emerges through a dynamic, evolutionary process by exerting its independence from Judaism in the 1st century. By its set of axioms primitive Christianity opened up a dynamic view of the world as process. In this process a new world breaks into the old world, in which the previous foundation of all evolution, the principle of selection, is included in, and partially abrogated by, solidarity. … It is not necessary to relate all axioms to such an evolutionary view of the world. Nor is it necessary to attribute an evolutionary consciousness to the men and women of primitive Christianity. We need only assume that all human beings are involved in a transition from a biological to cultural evolution – whether they know it or not. In their religious images and symbols they grope for the basic structures of reality and of their situation, long before they can put them into words. But where they encounter this situation intuitively, their sign worlds take on a power to disclose reality which goes far beyond the understanding of those who inhabit these worlds. It was its accord with the human condition, with the situation of human beings in a world in a process of evolutionary change, that gave the religious sign world of primitive Christianity its inner plausibility.84

For Theissen, the break with Judaism gives definition to Christianity, it exhibits the dynamic universalism of Christianity, and it demonstrates its accord with the evolutionary progress of human culture. Gerd Lüdemann understands Paul as the real founder of Christianity: “A movement was born and really called to life by a man who, though he had never known Jesus personally, was all the more in contact with the heavenly Jesus.”85 84 Gerd Theissen, The Religion of the Earliest Churches: Creating a Symbolic World, trans. John Bowden (Minneapolis:Fortress Press, 1999), pp. 295–97. 85  Gerd Lüdemann, The Acts of the Apostles: What Really Happened in the Earliest Days of the Church? (Amherst: Prometheus Books, 2005), p. 375.

4.0 Scholarly Reconstructions

197

It is clear that Lüdemann understands primitive Christianity to be dominated by the influence of Paul. What did Paul’s life yield? First of all, it has become clear that the Christian church owes almost everything to this Jewish man from Tarsus, and Luke rightly devotes more than half of Acts to him whom we may call the real founder of Christianity. Paul was right when he said that he worked harder than all the rest, because he created the foundations for all future developments in the church. He transplanted his misunderstanding of the religion of Jesus to Gentile territory and, without really wanting to, formulated the permanent separation of the church from Israel.86

While Lüdemann accepts the Lukan paradigm that Christianity emerged in a Pauline format, Lüdemann also interpets this as a historical tragedy. To narrate the story of Primitive Christianity means to make at the same time a critical judgment about Paul and his brothers in Christ. True, the apostle to the Gentiles was certainly a great figure in Primitive Christianity, indeed the real founder of the Church. But the view that his letters and the rest of the New Testament scriptures represented God’s word is a crime against reason and against humanity. Studying them today may make us realize that no real pointer to the future can be expected from his way of thinking.87

Consequently, the history of primitive Christianity projected by Lüdemann offers a rather dramatic retelling of Luke’s paradigm and a truncated view of the parting of the ways. For Lüdemann, Christianity is the tragic product of the separation from Judaism initiated by the Hellenists and completed by Paul. 4.2.2.3 Challenges to the Parting Models The “parting of the ways” model has been challenged, and successfully so, in a great deal of recent scholarship.88 I have argued that defining the formative era through a partings model is a deficient way to read the map of antiquity, but it also misreads the content of that map.89 From a critical perspective, the idea that Christianity gained its identity and its dynamic through a parting of the ways with Judaism is based upon and contributes to a host of fallacies. Among these are:

 Lüdemann, What Really Happened?, p. 381.  Lüdemann, What Really Happened?, p. 382. 88 Philip Alexander, “‘The Parting of the Ways’ from the Perspective of Rabbinic Judaism,” in Jews and Christians, pp. 1–25; Adam Becker and Annette Yoshiko Reed, ed., The Ways that Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003); Judith Lieu, whose primary ideas are found in Neither Jew nor Greek: Constructing Early Christianity (London: T&T Clark, 2002) and in Christian Identity in the Jewish and Graeco-Roman World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004). 89 Broadhead, Jewish Ways of Following Jesus. 86 87

198 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context 1. A temporal fallacy: The temporal fallacy presumes a unidirectional, linear process that can be measured in stages and degrees of separation. 2. An evolutionary fallacy: The presumption that this linear development is driven by the inertia of inevitability. The consequence of this process is often presumed to be the highest and most well-adapted religious forms. 3. A geographical fallacy: The presumption that this developmental sequence was limited to local geography (Palestine) or to a linear missionary geography (Jerusalem to Antioch to Rome). Luke frames the story of Jesus around his journey from the Galilee to Jerusalem. He then frames the story of the early church around the journey from Jerusalem to Rome, primarily in the tracks of Paul. In this perception, the gospel flows westward toward Rome. Overlooked are regions such as the Galilee, Alexandria, and the East. Ignored is the missionary activity of persons such as Mark and Barnabas, Priscilla and Aquila, the brothers of Jesus, Apollos, and the founders of the church at Rome. 4. An urban fallacy: The story of Jesus, which was acted out it villages, is transformed into an urban story. 5. A modal fallacy: There is one definitive mode for being Christian. In this view there are different gospels and different communities, but there is only one Gospel. At the heart of this Gospel is the kerygma of Jesus’ death and resurrection and the consequent freedom from the Law. An early, high christology is appropriate to this Gospel. This is the one mode for all of Christianity. In a corresponding way, Judaism is understood in the single mode of Pharisaic Judaism, which is then seen as rabbinic or “proto-rabbinic.” 6. A definitional fallacy: This is the presumption that it is clear what it means to be Christian or to be Jewish; that one is either, but not both; that Jewish Christianity can only be understood as some form of hybridization of the two. 7. A retrojective fallacy: The practice of reading rabbinic Judaism and orthodox Gentile Christianity onto the formative periods. 8. A synthetic or centripetal fallacy This is the idea that the wide diversity of practice and thought and organization can be understood in terms of one or two paradigms. Baur saw early Christianity divided into Paul’s people and Peter’s people. Others see Hellenists and Hebrews, strict and liberal, traditional and innovative. 9. An oppositional fallacy: The insistence that history is driven forward by the conflict between limited paradigms. Baur suggested the catholic church emerged from the synthesis of Pauline and Petrine groups. Lüdemann sees opposition to Paul as a driving dynamic. The opposition of Law and grace is often perceived to be a driving force.

5.0 Conclusion

199

10. A theological fallacy: The presumption that such conflict and development occurs primarily along the line of ideas about God, Christ, salvation, the Law, Israel.

4.2.3 Summation: Scholarly Reconstructions of Formative Christianity Scholarly reconstruction of the formative era of Christianity has largely followed the grand narrative first announced in the Lukan account of the early Church. In this model, the separation from Judaism in the 1st century ce is a necessary component in the definition of Christianity. While many scholarly reconstructions have incorporated the Jewish Wars and have grown more sophisticated and broader in scope, the basic paradigm remains largely the same. In this model, Christianity defined itself by separating from Judaism; by unifying around its texts and its leaders to purge itself of heresy; by evangelizing and eventually taking over the Roman empire. The first crucial steps in this evolutionary and triumphal development were said to be taken in the 1st century of the common era. At the heart of this model are two lines of conflict: external conflict with Judaism and with Rome, and internal conflict with heresy. In this model, Nicea (325 ce) marks the turning point. Rome has been conquered and now the emperor has become an ally in suppressing heresy. The early break with Judaism is seen as the beginning of this process, and the decree of Theodotius in 381 ce, making Christianity the official religion of the empire, will complete it. But foundational to this process is the early definition gained for Christianity by its separating from Judaism in the 1st century. With these three areas of conflict addressed, the grand narrative is established and the Peace of the Church is proclaimed.

5.0 Conclusion The first century of the common era has been reconstructed around a series of dialectical terms. One of these is the question of uniformity versus diversity. Lurking in the shadows of these questions are more primal concerns about identity and authority, that is, about social formation and location. Numerous voices project across the formative era of Judaism a sense of unity and coherence. Others testify to the diversity and conflict that marked the era. Critical scholarship is divided over whether both periods (before and after 70 ce) experienced a common Judaism, whether both periods were inhabited by various Judaisms, or whether the 1st Jewish War divides the era into two very different periods. I have argued that the eras before and after 70 ce generated different grand narratives of the unity of Judaism. I also argued that, for both eras and for both narratives, the details on the ground challenge the narrative claims of coherence and unity.

200 Chapter Nine: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The Historical Context For most of the history of scholarship, Christianity was said to gain its identity and status by distinguishing itself from Judaism, overcoming the pagan world, and suppressing heresy. A separation from Judaism in the first century has been seen as the necessary first step in this process. The purity of the church is also traced back to its roots in the apostolic era. Thus, the grand narrative of Christian orthodoxy is also constructed from the period before and after the 1st Jewish War. I have argued that this construct misreads and misrepresents the events on the ground in the first century. Conflict and diversity characterize this formative era for Christianity, calling into question all forms of the grand narrative of an early and enduring unity. Once rabbinic Judaism and Christian orthodoxy established their dominance, each sought in their own way to project their legacy and authority back upon the earlier era. Despite these grand narratives of unity and continuity, it is clear that the era of the Jewish Wars was characterized by enduring conflict and diversity, by plurality and pluriformity. This conflicted diversity is true not only of the landscape of this era, but also of the religious movements and identities built upon that landscape. In the following chapters, I will consider how and when and where the Gospel of Matthew fits into this landscape.

Chapter Ten

The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition: The History of Transmission When the quest for the author is pushed to the background, a vital Tradition History emerges for the Gospel of Matthew. At the heart of the composition history is the question of sources. Chapter Five argued that sources are not simply quotable material, but are rather living traditions with their own history, values, and tradents. The gathering of these living traditions into the Gospel of Matthew has extraordinary generative potential. These traditions are relativized by their incorporation, but they are not silenced. I argued that the conflicting traditions gathered into the Gospel of Matthew bring their own voices and provide a part of the identity and function of this gospel. Chapter Eight looked at the way in which a work projects a context: a view of the world constructed upon time and place and values. Through these various constructions, the Gospel of Matthew speaks in a world of conflict. Chapter Nine traced the conflict and diversity that marked the historical era in which this gospel arose. A work such as the Gospel of Matthew also has not only a history of composition; it has as well a history of transmission. Indeed, the transmission of a text is often a key part of its composition history. While this process could be traced as a type of genealogy of the text, I will argue that transmission is not a static, linear process of replication. The transmission of a text also involves change and development, particularly in antiquity. Transmission history is thus a key part of Tradition History. This creative component has been largely missed or suppressed for two reasons: 1) concern for a foundational text and its author and 2) because of the dominant culture of printed books.

1.0 Transmission History: The Role of Tradition, Text, and Manuscript I will argue that production of the Gospel of Matthew did not stop when the first manuscripts were completed.1 This creative process continued, and even 1  David Parker makes this argument in terms of the manuscript tradition; I am making it in terms of the Tradition History of the Gospel of Matthew. Parker refers to the living text of the gospels; I am describing the Gospel of Matthew as a Living Tradition. Parker seeks to redefine the role of textual criticism. He notes that most people believe the primary task of textual criti-

202

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

accelerated, through subsequent stages. This is heresy for those concerned with the author, with the authority of an original text, or with the boundaries established by canon and orthodoxy. It will become apparent from the history of the manuscripts, however, that many who read, copied, preserved, and transmitted this gospel were not greatly concerned by such limiting issues. 1.1 Tradition, Text, Manuscript Chapter Five emphasized important definitions, distinctions, and misunderstandings in the process of Tradition History. Working from the perspective of textual criticism, David Parker defines the work as a “single form of text distilled from all the varied forms in which it is known.”2 Since I am concerned for the Tradition History, for Parker’s term work I prefer the concept of Tradition – the product that is composed from all the texts and traditions within its history. Thus, the Gospel of Matthew is the sum product of all of the lines of production in its Tradition History. This Tradition is exemplified in a Text in the same way that a musical work is exemplified in an arrangement. But no manuscript and no single form of the Text is a comprehenisive or exclusive exemplar of the work or Tradition. In the same way that a musical work can be found in various arrangements, so a Tradition like the Gospel of Matthew can be expressed in more than one form of the Text. The work or the Tradition is known in its Text. The Text is presented in manuscripts, but no manuscript, handwritten or printed, contains the only form of the Text. The Text that we now know as the Gospel of Matthew has been designated, since the 1200s, by chapter and verse. Thus, we know the Text as Matthew 1.1 to 28.20. In the modern world, the Gospel of Matthew is known mostly through print, but it is also found in other formats. In antiquity, however, the Text of the Gospel of Matthew was known through a series of manuscripts – handwritten documents that were produced one at a time and were changed and copied through subsequent generations. David Parker has emphasized the key differences between texts that are printed and texts found in handwritten manuscripts. Beyond the obvious differences in technology and cost, each manuscript was a unique production with its own vellum, its own scribes and editors, and its own distinct text. While books can be printed in large numbers, with each page exactly the same, no two manuscripts are alike.3 Parker demonstrates this with John 18. cism is to establish the original text. If that were ever done, he notes, then most text critics could go home – their work would be finished. Parker believes establishing the oldest text is only a part of the task of text critics: they are also to pay attention to the full history of development of the manuscript tradition. See Textual Scholarship and the Making of the New Testament and The Living Text of the Gospels. 2  Parker, Textual Scholarship and the Making of the New Testament, p. 11. 3 Parker, Textual Scholarship, pp. 82–83.

1.0 Transmission History: The Role of Tradition, Text, and Manuscript

203

In a complete collation of the fifteen hundred or so Greek manuscripts containing John 18, there are 1,186 readings which are supported by a minority of manuscripts. This amounts to about thirty in every verse. As many as 555 are found in a single manuscript, 163 have support of two manuscripts, and 91 are attested by three manuscripts. Only twenty readings have the support of more than one hundred manuscripts. To look at it slightly differently, although there is a clearly attested majority text, consisting of the text of the Byzantine manuscripts, no single manuscript exactly preserves this majority text.4

Even within the Byzantine manuscript type, there is no single text for John 18, and the best critical reconstruction of the text exists in no known manuscript. This is the nature of the manuscript tradition for the Greek New Testament. Many have argued that scholars now have the ability to sort out corruptions and secondary readings and that the remaining differences are cosmetic or superficial. This is both true and false. Scholars can say when a text has deviated from a line of development or from a type of manuscript tradition (such as Alexandrian or Byzantine). But to do so, scholars have to engage in the biased work of defining families and types of manuscript, and they typically assign value to one line or group of manuscripts over another. Westcott and Hort, for example, argued that: Early in the second century we find the Western text already wandering into greater and greater adulteration of the apostolic text, which, while doubtless holding its ground in different places, has its securest refuge at Alexandria; but there in turn it suffers from another but slighter series of changes; and all of this before the middle of the third century.5

Westcott and Hort thus valued “the apostolic text” (of which no manuscripts exist), but they believed it was adulterated in later manuscripts from Western and Alexandrian types. Westcott and Hort then traced a movement in Antioch that is established in Constantinople and pushes out the earlier forms of text. They designated two manuscripts from the 4th century – Sinaiticus and Vaticanus – as the Neutral Text tradition, which they placed largely outside the “chaos of varying mixed texts.”6 It is clear on critical grounds, however, that neither this text tradition nor the judgments of Westcott and Hort can be labeled as neutral. The influence of this grand narrative of a privileged line of transmission continues. For example, most New Testament scholars in the West were taught to dismiss Byzantine manuscripts as a late and standardized form of the text, and they often dismiss readings as secondary simply because they are Byzantine. Byzantine clerics, on the other hand, tend to value the text for what it has become, believing the development of the tradition has brought the text to its richest form. Just to complicate matters, very conservative Christians in the 4 Parker,

Textual Scholarship, pp. 15–16.   B. F.  Westcott and F. J. A.  Hort, The New Testament in the Original Greek, 2 vols. (London: McMillan, 1881), p. 145. 6 Cited and discussed in Parker, Textual Scholarship, pp. 82–83 5

204

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

West often favor the Byzantine text because it is the majority tradition and is heavily reflected in the King James Version. They believe this form of the text dominated and endured because of divine approval.7 The sorting and grouping of manuscripts may be a necessary part of textual criticism, but it is not without bias in what it declares authentic and what it declares secondary and corrupt. The idea that differences within the manuscripts are cosmetic or superficial has a long history. Westcott and Hort, for example, said there were no theologically motivated variants in the New Testament.8 Quite a number of issues are, in fact, corrected within the manuscript itself by other scribes or editors. But some of these corrections are then changed back to the first reading by other scribes. These changes matter for at least two reasons. First, even a single incident breaks the paradigm of the stable manuscript tradition. Secondly, these corrections illustrate that scribes not only changed the texts as they wrote by adapting previous manuscripts; they also changed the text after they wrote – sometimes even their own texts. As we will see below, some changes create a new text. Manuscripts are not simply replications of another manuscript, but are always works in progress  – even after they are written, or especially after they are written. There is no unbroken chain of transmission leading back to an original. 1.2 Developments in Codex Sinaiticus This process of development is not limited to the time of the writing of the manuscript. Works like Codex Sinaiticus (about 350 ce) show additions and changes stretching across some seventeen centuries. While an extraordinary number of changes can be observed on the pages of the manuscript itself, we must presume similar editing was done in the process of writing this codex – that the scribes also edited the texts they were copying. The most recent change to Codex Sinaiticus may the most dramatic  – it has been digitized and made accessible to anyone with an internet connection. The leaves of Sinaiticus are still scattered over the world, and New Testament scholars previously could only work with the leaves in front of them, usually in a facsimile or photograph or in the form of a written description. All of the surviving leaves are now united in one place, and Codex Sinaticus today exists as a book – a Bible – for the first time since antiquity. But it exists as a Bible in only one place: http://www.codexsinaiticus.org. Codex Sinaiticus is now a virtual reality: it exists nowhere and it exists everywhere. More people may now read Sinaiticus in a day than the number who have read it over its previous seventeen centuries of existence. This not simply a technological advance; it impinges upon the question of identity and function. The availability of Sinaiticus has changed, and this will  It is now possible to buy a modern English translation based on the Byzantine text. is discussed by Parker, The Living Text of the Gospels, p. 94.

7

8 This

1.0 Transmission History: The Role of Tradition, Text, and Manuscript

205

change its role within biblical scholarship. It will also change exponentially the audience of Sinaiticus (from a handful to a potential six billion readers or observers). Beyond the question of availability, Sinaticus will be read in a new light – literally. Codex Sinaiticus was photographed under raking light, which exposes elements not normally available to the human eye.9 That Sinaiticus will be read is significant, but also how it will be read is changing. All of these factors impact the way Sinaiticus is appropriated as a part of the Tradition History of the Bible. It is, after all, the oldest Bible we know of. It contains all 27 books of the New Testament canon, but it also contains more. Should we now revise the canon list of Athanasius (367 ce) to include these works? David Parker is using Codex Sinaiticus to shift the way textual criticism views the history and function of the manuscript tradition.10 If my work here is successful, Sinaiticus will also contribute to changes in the way we view the history of tradition of the texts themselves, particularly the Gospel of Matthew. 1.3 Some Manuscripts Generate New Texts The history of the manuscripts is not simply a train of copies. Each manuscript is unique in what it changes, but also in what it creates. Some changes create a new text, and some change the subsequent history of interpretation. I will illustrate this generative potential in two cases. In Romans 16.7 Paul greets a list of people he knows. Among them is a woman named Junia. Paul describes Junia as a relative or sister and as his fellow prisoner. He notes that she is “well known among the apostles” (Rom 16.7), likely meaning that she is an apostle. Finding it difficult to conceive that a woman exercised leadership at the earliest and most important levels of Christianity, her name was changed to its masculine by 200 ce (p46), likely earlier. This change was incorporated into the Greek manuscript tradition, though m33 (9th century) retains the feminine. Peter Lampe has shown that the masculine form of this name is not known to exist in the ancient world.11 It was almost certainly created to change the text and the conceptual world of developing Christianity – and it succeeded in doing so. The ending of the Gospel of Mark also demonstates how changes in the manuscripts can create a new text. The Gospel of Mark, in its most ancient form,  9  By way of example, as a part of this investigation, I have been reading the text of Mt 28.16– 20 in Sinaiticus, but I have also been reading the bleed through of ink (backwards Greek!) on the back of the page to see if there was an earlier text before the trinitarian formulation was inscribed. In terms of logistics, such analysis was not feasible before about 2010, and it probably was physically impossible before that point. 10 See Parker’s Lyell Lectures from Oxford in 2011 in Textual Scholarship and the Making of the New Testament. 11  Peter Lampe, “Junias,” in Anchor Bible Dictionary, ed. David Noel Freedman (New York: Doubleday, 1992), vol 3, p. 1127.

206

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

ends abruptly at Mk 16.8. The women who witness the empty tomb are told by a messenger to “Go, say to his disciples and to Peter that he is going before you into the Galilee. There you will see him, even as he told you” (Mk 16.7). The final lines report that the women “having gone out, fled from the tomb, for they had fear and trembling, and they said nothing to no one, for they were afraid” (Mk 16.8). Many early readers were not satisfied with this rupture at the end of the story. It left too many questions unanswered, and the manuscripts that followed reflect the desire to finish the story.12 In the Greek manuscript tradition, there are six different models (that we know of) for how the Gospel of Mark ends: 1. Texts that conclude abruptly with Mk 16.1–8 and have no further text. 2. Texts that append a shorter ending to Mk 16.1–8.13 3. Texts that append a longer ending to Mk 16.1–8.14 4. Texts that append the longer ending, but add a critical symbol or note after Mk 16.8.15 5. Texts that include Mk 16.1–8, the shorter ending, and the longer ending.16 6. The insertion after Mk 16.14 found only in the Freer Logion (Washingtonius).17

 The full details may be found in Broadhead, Prophet, Son, Messiah and in David Parker, The Living Text of the Gospels, pp. 124–147. 13 “And all that had been commanded to them they told briefly to those around Peter. And afterward Jesus himself sent out through them, from east to west, the sacred and imperishable proclamation of eternal salvation.” This reading is found in one manuscript, an Old Latin manuscript from Africa (Codex Bobbiensis). This manuscript also adds between Mk 16.3 and Mk 16.4 an ascension account: “But suddenly at the third hour of the day it became dark throughout the world, and angels descended from heaven and rising in the glory of the living God at once ascended with him, and immediately it became light.” 14  This text is found in the Authorized (KJV) version, and many others, as Mk 16.9–20. 15  Two manuscripts from Family 1 (1209mg and 1532) insert the note that “In some copies the evangelist ended here, as Eusebius Pamphili considered canonical. But in many this also is in circulation”. Mk 16.9–20 then follows in these manuscripts. Manuscript 22 has a note and uses a critical symbol. It says: “The end. * In some copies the evangelist ended here, but in many this also.” Manuscript 20 has a note that says “From here to the end is not present in some copies, But in old ones everything remaining is present.” Asterisks are used to mark the issue in manuscripts 137 and 138. It should be noted that some manuscripts credit the shorter form to the evangelist, then proceed to copy additional material. Some make the judgment in this case that longer texts are older and that older texts are better. It should also be noted that several scribes reveal that they are not simply copying one manuscript to another: they are editing and conflating from multiple manuscripts to produce a new manuscript – and a new text. 16 For the manuscripts involved, see Parker, The Living Text of the Gospels, p. 127. He notes that the additions are noted in three different ways in these manuscripts. 17  It reads: “And they justified themselves saying that ‘This age of lawlessness and unbelief is in the power of Satan, who does not allow the truth and power of God to prevail over the unclean things of the spirits. Therefore reveal your righteousness now.’ Thus they spoke to Christ, and Christ replied to them that ‘The measure of years of the authority of Satan is fulfilled, but other terrible things draw near. And I was handed over to death for the sake of those who have sinned, so that they might return to the truth and sin no more; so that they might inherit the spiritual and incorruptible glory of righteousness in heaven.’” See the discussion by Parker, The Living Text of the Gospels, p. 128. Parker also shows that Jerome knows this ending. 12

1.0 Transmission History: The Role of Tradition, Text, and Manuscript

207

One should probably add to this the numerous manuscripts in which the ending has broken off. This means we do not know which of these endings they employed or whether they ended with another model. While complex and unsolvable, the impact of this is simple and clear. The ancient scribes do not follow a single version of the text, and, in their eyes, the Gospel of Mark is still under development. Parker describes the implications: Finally, textual criticism has, by patient and generally unspectacular work, managed in the course of the last 150 years to recover the Short and the original Ending of Mark. To read the Gospel with this ending is to read a new book. This new book offers radical theological interpretations which had been wholly stifled by the ecclesiastical pieties of the Intermediate and the Long Endings. Let it be said only by the unimaginative and those who know nothing of the past that textual criticism is insignificant or unnecessary.18

While this may seem to be an issue that concerns only text scholars, it actually impacts all who read the text. The King James Version (KJV) presented Mk 16.9–20 as the appropriate  – and only  – option, and this became the Authorized Version (because it was dedicated to and authorized by King James). For 400 years this has been, for most English readers, the text of the Bible. The Revised Standard Version (RSV) has Mk 16.1–8, then provides Mk 16.9–20 in a footnote with an explanation. The New English Bible (NEB) has Mk 16.1–8, then the shorter ending, then the longer ending (model #5). The New Revised Standard (NRSV) follows Mk 16.1–8 with the shorter ending, then the longer ending, inserting a title before both endings and using double brackets to enclose them. The ending of the Freer Logion is given in full in a footnote, and the whole manuscript tradition is explained in truncated form in another footnote. This is not without consequence. The snakehandling churches of Appalachia base their practice on the Bible, which, in their text, contains Mk 16.17–18 and its reference to the “accompanying signs”: And these signs will accompany those who believe; by using my name they will cast out demons; they will speak in new tongues; they will pick up snakes in their hands, and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not hurt them; they will lay hands on the sick, and they will recover.

Those who disagree with the snakehandlers typically have this passage in their Bible as well, but tend to ignore it. The most dramatic changes to the Gospel of Mark, however, were implemented by the Gospel of Matthew. It has adopted, adapted, taken from, and added to the text of the Gospel of Mark. Beyond these changes in content and structure, the Gospel of Mark has been placed alongside material from the Sayings Tradition and framed within a world narrated by the voice of the Hebrew prophets. The Gospel of Mark has been rewritten and relativized by this appropriation. 18 Parker,

The Living Text of the Gospels, p. 147.

208

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

But the impact goes both ways. The Gospel of Matthew is a new edition of the Gospel of Mark, and both texts are changed by this development. 1.4 Summation The manuscript tradition, then, is not simply a sequential shaping of the same text. Each manuscript is a production in its own right, and each presents, to a greater or lesser degree, a new form of the text. “Every manuscript,” said Augustine of Hippo, “is as good as a new translation.”19 Whether this is seen as a liability or an asset is irrelevant: it is the reality of the way ancient texts were made, preserved, and transmitted. The manuscript tradition is a key element in describing the history of the text, but this process is also generative: it is a part of the development of the text. To offer a simple example, Matthew 5–7 was not in ancient manuscripts: only in the 1200s were chapters and verses assigned to the text.20 In the early stages of the manuscript tradition, the name of Matthew was not on the text, and the name appears differently in ancient manuscripts. The designation of Mt 5–7 as the Sermon on the Mount is not given in the first moment of writing; it is a product of the developmental history. But not just the externals of the text were subjected to change and correction and development. As we shall see, this generative process can be observed in every component of the text through every stage of the manuscript tradition, and it is an essential element of the identity and function of the Gospel of Matthew.21 The Gospel of Matthew is a Living Tradition, and it history of transmission is a key part of that legacy. For the Gospel of Matthew, the history of transmission is also a history of development, both in form and in function. We turn next to that process and to its creative potential.

2.0 Manuscripts and the Gospel of Matthew: From NA28 to p64 and Back When New Testament scholars read the Gospel of Matthew they use a critical edition of the text based on most, if not all, of the Greek manuscripts available. The textual notes at the bottom of a page will give, in somewhat coded language, the major issues involved in the different manuscripts, but certainly not all of them. In addition, the early translations of the New Testament, such as Latin,  Cited in Parker, The Living text of the Gospels, p. 15.  Stephen Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury, assigned the chapters and verses to the text of the Latin Vulgate. 21  Even if a manuscript like Codex Sinaiticus (350 ce) was an exact replica of an existing text, we could not know this. And even if we did know this, there are some 30,000 changes made in the text of Sinaiticus after it was penned. 19 20

2.0 Manuscripts and the Gospel of Matthew: From NA28 to p64 and Back

209

Coptic, Syriac, Ethiopic, will be consulted, along with various lectionaries and readings from the Church Fathers. 2.1 The List David Parker describes the complex data base from which New Testament scholars work.22 Though the number changes, there are a total of some 5606 New Testament manuscripts. These fall generally into one of three classes: Greek manuscripts of New Testament writings; citations found in early Christian writers; translations into other languages. The 5606 manuscripts are found in four major forms. Papyri refers to writings on a primitive type of paper made from the papyrus plant. Majuscules are characterized by a large case print, while Minuscules have a lower case type of print. Lectionaries are readings that contain New Testament text. These categories are mixed at best. Some manuscripts are written on papyrus scrolls, some on papyrus leaves, some on vellum (leather) leaves. Majuscules tend to be older and miniscules later, and lectionaries tend to fall between the 8th and 19th centuries. Thus, there are no clear, objective, definitive categories, and new manuscripts must be fit, sometimes rather awkwardly, into the existing catalogues. In terms of numbers, the manuscripts may be charted this way: Papyri 125 Majuscules 284 Minuscules 2820 Lectionaries 2377

These numbers do not signify their value, however, since the age of the manuscript is also important. Parker charts their distribution in the following way:23 Century 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 Papyri ------------------------Majuscules  -----------------------------------Miniscules -----------------------------------------------------Lectionaries ----------------------------------------------------------

What is difficult to chart, however, are the gaps. There are huge breaks in the time line between extant manuscripts, and the great majority of those we do have are fragmentary. These issues can be illustrated with p52, which is likely the oldest known manuscript for the New Testament. It is probably the only surviving manuscript that can be appropriately dated before 200 ce. If the dating to the first half of the second century is correct, this text may stand only fifty years from the time of writing of the Gospel of John. It appears that with the text of John

 Parker, Textual Scholarship, pp. 32–64. Textual Scholarship, p. 33.

22

23 Parker,

210

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

Figure 10.1: P52 (dated to the 2nd century ce)

found in p52 we are only a step or two removed from the writing of this gospel around the end of the 1st century ce. That is not true for a number of reasons. The first is the amount of text found in p52, which is part of 6 verses. The front (recto) side measures 8.9 x 5.8 cm., with the written text measuring 6.4 x 5 cm.. This side of the fragment contains part of the text that we know as John 18.31–33. The verso (back) side measures 8.9 x 5.8 cm., with the written text measuring 6.4 x 5 cm.. This side of the fragment contains a portion of text that we know as John 18.37–38.24 What we have is a fragment that would fit into the palm of the hand that contains a few letters from two passages of what will come to be known as the 24  I am grateful to the John Rylands Library of Manchester for the image of the fragment designated as p52. This image is under Copyright of The University of Manchester.

2.0 Manuscripts and the Gospel of Matthew: From NA28 to p64 and Back

211

Gospel of John. The text contained here will be designated as John 18, but only in the 1200s. This piece of text would likely not have been designated as a part of the gospel of John, nor even as a part of a gospel, at the time it was written. It probably was simply a text of the gospel of Jesus. But we cannot presume that it was even part of a larger text. This passage may have belonged to a single page or to a few pages used for worship or teaching, or even as an amulet (magical object) within a particular Christian community. Scholars are hesitant to admit that this early text can only be interpreted in the light of later texts. From these later manuscripts we know there will be gospels and gospel titles and gospel collections and Bibles and Bibles with chapter and verse, but these are all after the fact. The point is, we do not know what fills the gaps that surround this fragment. Nor do we know what fills the gap back from this fragment to the time of writing, and we do not know what fills the gap from this fragment forward to the next fragment copied from it. Moreover, we do not know what happened in the distance between the place of writing of the Gospel of John and the location of this fragment in Egypt. When anyone does a lineage of manuscripts or readings, they are speaking mostly from the silence of theses gaps. This is one of the most unacknowledged factors in discussions of the New Testament. Nonetheless, this is a precious piece of paper. It is one tiny point on the map of a complex Johannine cosmos of texts and traditions, but it is one point. It is the task of New Testament scholarship to gather each point of light and information and, with as much care and integrity and transparency as possible, to follow their tracks. That is the design behind the series of critical editions of the Greek New Testament, a process that began with Erasmus in the early 1500s and continues into the Nestle-Aland 28th edition of Novum Testamentum Graece. 2.2 Nestle-Aland: Novum Testamentum Graece The Nestle-Aland critical text is now in its 28th edition. The purpose of this text is stated in the introduction: It intends to provide the user with a well-founded working text together with the means of verifying it or alternatively correcting it. Correspondingly the edition contains all the variants necessary for this purpose in as complete a form as possible within its limitations. The variants included are important either for their content or for their historical significance. The user can also gain an accurate impression of the amount of variation in the New Testament textual tradition, as well as of the general character of these variants, and of the motives and origins they reflect.25

Despite this careful description, many scholars simply use the text chosen by the editors and rarely consult the history of the manuscripts. Many believe the term 25 Nestle-Aland,

27th edition, p. 46.

212

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

variants refers to secondary readings that differ from the standard text, typically based on spelling or word order. Variants are labeled as variants, however, not because they vary from some standard text, but because they vary from each other! More significantly, many who cannot read the Greek text presume that what is found in NA28 is the original text. More astounding is the fact that many New Testament scholars treat the text in this way. Some would qualify this by saying that NA28 is a scholarly reconstruction of the original text. But it is not the original, and it is not a reconstruction of the original. The text of NA28 is, at best, a critical reconstruction of the manuscripts immediately behind the earliest form of the text available to us. To put it simply, in almost all passages of the Gospel of Matthew the NA28 text is a reconstruction no further back than Sinaiticus and Vaticanus – that is, the manuscript tradition as it stood in the early part of the 4th century. But, as the editors note, NA28 is meant to be more than a reconstructed text; it is also a collection of variant texts from numerous manuscripts, and it includes the invitation to engage the text with the option of “verifying it or alternatively of correcting it.”26 Moreover, the text in NA28, which was chosen by a committee of scholars, is an eclectic text. The committee did not simply choose readings based on the oldest texts or the most numerous texts. They argued, debated, and voted on the best evidence available, but they worked with their own standards and biases about how the manuscripts are related. They chose some readings from texts assigned to an Alexandrian tradition, some from a Western text tradition, some from a Byzantine tradition. At a few places, conjecture was necessary. To put it simply, the text of NA28 is found in no ancient manuscript, and this is for good reason – the text of NA28 did not exist before the 21st century. Even so, it is the best critical text available, and it is a precious commodity for those who seek to work with the New Testament. It is not, however, an original text or even an ancient text. 2.3 Codex Sinaiticus The NA28 text of the Gospel of Matthew is, for the largest part, the text of Codex Sinaiticus. Codex Sinaiticus may be described in this way: As it survives today, Codex Sinaiticus comprises just over 400 large leaves of prepared animal skin, each of which measures 380mm high by 345mm wide. On these parchment leaves is written around half of the Old Testament and Apocrypha (the Septuagint), the whole of the New Testament, and two early Christian texts not found in modern Bibles. Most of the first part of the manuscript (containing most of the so-called historical books, from Genesis to 1 Chronicles) is now missing and presumed to be lost.

26 Nestle-Aland,

27th edition, p. 46.

2.0 Manuscripts and the Gospel of Matthew: From NA28 to p64 and Back

213

The Septuagint includes books which many Protestant Christian denominations place in the Apocrypha. Those present in the surviving part of the Septuagint in Codex Sinaiticus are 2 Esdras, Tobit, Judith, 1 & 4 Maccabees, Wisdom and Sirach. The number of the books in the New Testament in Codex Sinaiticus is the same as that in modern Bibles in the West, but the order is different. The Letter to the Hebrews is placed after Paul’s Second Letter to the Thessalonians, and the Acts of the Apostles between the Pastoral and Catholic Epistles. The two other early Christian texts are an Epistle by an unknown writer claiming to be the Apostle Barnabas, and “The Shepherd”, written by the early second-century Roman writer, Hermas.27

Codex Sinaiticus has two very different parts.28 The Old Testament is a copy of the Septuagint and was the common property of both Jews and Greeks. The New Testament emerges from the traditions of scattered Christian communities. The manuscript was likely copied in the mid 4th century, perhaps in Egypt or in Caesarea.29 At least three scribes were involved in the initial copying, and they revised and corrected their own work. In the period from about 400 ce to 600 ce the codex was revised by a succession of correctors, with six responsible for the majority of revisions. Altogether, there are some 23,000 revisions to the codex, making an average of about 30 per page. Some 411 of the original 743 leaves survive. Pages of Sinaiticus were discovered as recently as 1975. Sinaiticus is the oldest exant Bible, and these characteristics are telling about the way in which ancient scripture was viewed and used. Sinaiticus was and is a work in process.30 2.4 Early Manuscript Fragments: p1 and p64 If we want to push behind the text of Sinaiticus, the manuscript evidence for the Gospel of Matthew grows thin, both in numbers and in content. One of the earliest witnesses is a papyrus known as p1. This manuscript is dated to the 3rd century ce and resides in Philadelphia. This manuscript contains a passage that we will come to know as Mt 1.1–9,12 on one side and what we will come to know as Mt 1.14–20 on the other. This is the only page that we have.31 It is worth noting that this manuscript does not call itself a gospel, and it does not call itself the Gospel of Matthew. Ironically, the opening word is Biblos, from which we get book, bibliography, and Bible. But this text does not call itself a Bible. Here the Biblos is the genealogy, the “book of the generations of Jesus Christ, son of David, son of Abraham.” This manuscript has for its title  The description is from http://codexsinaiticus.org/en/codex/content.a the discussion in David Parker, Codex Sinaiticus: The Story of the World’s Oldest Bible (Peabody: Hendrickson, 2010), pp. 93–124. 29  See Parker, Codex Sinaiticus, pp. 1–10. 30 For the use of the image of Codex Sinaiticus I am grateful to the British Library Board (© British Library Board; folios 244 and 245). 31  The image is held under copyright and used with the permission of the University of Pennsylvania and the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archeology and Anthropology. 27

28 See

214

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

Figure 10.2: Codex Sinaiticus (dated around 350 ce)

2.0 Manuscripts and the Gospel of Matthew: From NA28 to p64 and Back

215

216

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

Figure 10.3: P1 (dated to the 3rd century ce)

2.0 Manuscripts and the Gospel of Matthew: From NA28 to p64 and Back

217

Figure 10.4: Front and back of the three fragments of P64 (dated around 200 ce)

the letter alpha, equivalent to an English a. We would be on strong grounds to presume there was something to be labeled with a beta (equivalent to an English b). We can also learn something from this single leaf about the materials used, the technology of paper making, scribal practices, and other information. Here we have a treasured window into a brief moment in the history of development of the Gospel of Matthew. But it would be inappropriate to suggest that this fragment connects us in some way to an original text and to the author of that text. The oldest known piece of manuscript containing what we have come to know as the Gospel of Matthew is p64, dated to around 200 ce and now found at Magdalen College in Oxford.32

32  For the use of the image of p64 I am grateful to the President and Fellows of Magdalen College, Oxford.

218

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

These are the earliest known manuscripts for the Gospel of Matthew, but we are still a century away and a continent away from the time and place of the writing of this gospel. We can thus trace a few points in the development of the manuscript tradition beginning around the year 200 ce. 2.5 The Manuscript Tradition From p64 to NA28 We began with the critical text of NA28 and observed the way its reconstructed text, in conjunction with its critical apparatus, guides us back through the manuscript tradition for the Gospel of Matthew. We will move now from the earliest manuscript witnesses through various points in the history of transmission. The extant manuscript tradition for the Gospel of Matthew includes two types of material: 1) pieces of papyrus, which may have come from a scroll or from a codex (book) and 2) parchment (leather) codices. The earliest materials are written in Greek, then Latin and Coptic. Papyri containing portions of the Gospel of Matthew33 p1 3rd p19 4th/5th p21 4th/5th p25 4th p35 4th? p37 3rd/4th p44 6th/7th p45 3rd p53 3rd 4th p62 64 c. 200 p c.200 p67 3rd p70 p71 4th p73 7th p77 2nd/3rd p83 6th p86 4th p96 6th p101 3rd p102 3/4th p103 2/3rd p104 c. 200 p105 5/6th p110 4th

Mt 1.1–9,12,14–20 Mt 10.32–11.5 Mt 12.24–26,32–33 Mt 18.32–34; 19.1–3, 5–7, 9–10 Mt 25.12–15, 20–23 Mt 26.19–52 Mt 17.1–3,6–7; 18.15–17,19; 25.8–10 Mt 20.24–32; 21.13–19; 25.41–26.39 Mt 26.29–40 Mt 11.25–30 Mt 3.9,15; 5.20–22,25–28; Mt 26.7–8,10,14–15,22–23,31–33 Mt 2.13–16; 2.22–3.1; 11.26–27; 12.4–5; 24.3–6,12–15  (P.Oxy.2384) Mt 10.10–11,17–18  (P.Oxy.2385) Mt 25.43; 26.2–3 Mt 23.30–39 Mt 20.23–25.30–31.33–34.36–37.39–41 Mt 5.13–16,22–25 Mt 3.13–15 Mt 3.10–12,16–17; 4.1–3 Mt 4.11–12,22–23 Mt 13.55–57; 14.3–5 Mt 21.34–37,43,45 Mt 27.62–64; 28.2–5 Mt 10.13–14,25–27

33  See K. S. Min, Die früheste Überlieferung des Matthäusevangeliums (bis zum 3./4.J.): Edition und Untersuchung (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2005).

2.0 Manuscripts and the Gospel of Matthew: From NA28 to p64 and Back

219

Codices before the 6th century containing portions of the Gospel of Matthew34 Sinaiticus 4th Alexandrinus 5th Vaticanus 4th C 5th

omits Mt 1.1–25.6 omits Mt 1.1–2; 5.15–7.5; 17.26–18.28; 22.21–23.17; 24.10–45; 25.30–26.22; 27.11–46; 28.15-end omits Mt 1.1–20; 6.20–9.2; 27.2–12  Mt 3.7–16 suppl.

D 5th W 4th/5th 058 4th 0160 4th/5th 0170 5th/6th 0171 c.300 0212 3rd 0231 4th 0242 4th

Mt 18.18–19,22–23,25–26,28–29 Mt 26.25–26,34–36 Mt 6.5–6,8–10,13–15,17 Mt 10.17–23,25–32 Mt 27.56–57 (Diatessaron) Mt 26.75–27.1,3–4 Mt 8.25–9.2; 13.32–38,40–46

Latin Codices before the 6th century containing portions of the Gospel of Matthew omits Mt 25.2–12 a 4th omits Mt 1.1–11; 15.12–22; 23.18–27 b 5th omits Mt 1.1–11; 2.20–3.7; 6.8–8.27; 26.65–27.2; d 5th omits Mt 1.1–12.49; 24.50–28.2 e 5th omits Mt 1.1–11.16 ff2 5th Mt 3.15–14.33; 18.12–28.20 h 5th Mt 1.1–3.10; 4.1–14.17; 15.20–36; k 4th/5th Mt 9.17,30–37; 10.1–5,7–10 μ 5th Mt 17.1–5; 17.14–18.20; 19.20–21.3; 26.56–60,69–74; ν 5th 27.62–28.3,8-end

We must move forward, then, not from a manuscript written by Matthew at the end of the first century, but from a few lines in a few fragments from at least a century later, mostly from Egypt. We likely have only 13 or 14 fragments of the Gospel of Matthew that predate the Council of Nicea (325 ce), and we do not have evidence that these manuscripts are connected in any genealogical relationship. The totals can be deceiving. If we focus on the content by chapters, it looks like this.

34  See Thomas J. Kraus and Tobias Niklas (eds.), New Testament Manuscripts: Their Texts and Their World (Leiden: Brill, 2006).

220

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

Chapters cited before 350 ce p p67 p101 p102 p103 p104 p77 0212 p1 p45 p53 p70 0171 p37 p71 p25 p35 p62 p86 0231 0242 64

c. 200 c. 200 3rd 3/4th 2/3rd c. 200 2nd/3rd 3rd 3rd 3rd 3rd 3rd c.300 3rd/4th 4th 4th 4th? 4th 4th 4th 4th

Mt

3

Total verses

5

Mt 3 4 Mt 4 Mt Mt Mt Mt Mt 1 Mt Mt Mt 2 3 Mt Mt Mt Mt Mt Mt Mt 5 Mt Mt

26 26 13 14

21

23

27

20 10

11 12

24

26

10

18 11

8

25 26 26

13

25 26 27 Total

9 10 8 4 6 6 10 2 17 66 12 18 15 33 4 11 8 6 8 4 26 284

Less than 300 verses are cited from the 1071 verses in the Gospel of Matthew, a total of about 28 %. Many verses are cited only in part, and only a few of the 300 verses are cited more that once. We could compare each verse with the more complete manuscript found in Sinaiticus, the extent sections of Vaticanus, and the Latin manuscript a, but the database would be much less than 28 %; in most manuscripts, as in p52 or p1 or p64, we do not find many complete verses. The conclusions drawn from such survey would be equally fragmentary. This attention to the details of the manuscripts demonstrates the fragile nature of the manuscript tradition. Any comparison we might make would need to be a cautious one. Such comparison might say something about the specific passages compared in the specific manuscripts available. To make connections beyond that would be speculative at best. For example, this means it is difficult to speak of word statistics or grammatical patterns unless one defines a standard text. Most such efforts are based on NA28, but they may tell us little about the time of writing of the Gospel of Matthew. The tenuous nature of the transmission history can also be illustrated in the question of titles and openings for the gospels. The text came to be called the Gospel of Matthew, but we cannot say precisely when. We do not know that Papias (as reported by Eusebius) was talking about this text. Indeed, Papias

2.0 Manuscripts and the Gospel of Matthew: From NA28 to p64 and Back

221

seems to refer to a collection of sayings (logia) written in Hebrew.35 When does this text become a gospel, and when does it become the Gospel of Mathew? The opening lines are missing from most early manuscripts. Here is what we do know about the Gospel of Matthew 1. Opening lines of the Gospel of Matthew are rare before the 6th century 2. Only 1 papyrus (p1 from the 3rd century) contains the opening passage (it does not contain the title) 3. Only 3 Greek codices before the 6th century contain opening lines: Sinaiticus (4th); Vaticanus (4th); Washingtonious (4th/5th). Only 2 Latin codices before the 6th century contain opening lines: a (4th) and k (4/5th). Codex Alexandrinus (5th) is missing the opening lines, but elsewhere designates this as the Gospel of Matthew. The only papyrus with the opening line (p1, 3rd century) does not contain a title. The text is distinguished at some point, perhaps later, with an alpha, but there is no title. Even more noteworthy, however, is the lack of an ending for the Gospel of Matthew in the manuscript tradition. Mt 28.16–20 is found in no manuscript before the middle of the 3rd century. Most manuscripts, of course, have lost their beginning and ending sections. Mt 28.16–20 contains important material: the mission to the Gentiles, the instruction to baptize, and the only mention of the trinitarian formula in the New Testament. It is noteworthy that this key passage cannot be certified in the manuscript evidence prior to the Council of Nicea (325 ce). 2.6 Summation It becomes abundantly clear that we do not have a line of successive manuscripts that lead us back to an original text. It is also clear that the manuscripts we do have do not exhibit a stable and unchanging text. This makes any talk about an original or foundational text inappropriate – it is not accessible. Moreover, the concept of an original text is itself debatable. What we can know of the history of transmission is important. It is clear that the Gospel of Matthew is a revised edition of the Gospel of Mark that incorporates a variety of other traditions. The extant Greek manuscript tradition of the Gospel of Matthew extends from a few lines found in fragments from 200 ce to the first Bibles in the middle of the 4th century. We cannot say how these fragments are related to each other, how (or if) they connect back to the time of writing, or how (or if) they connect forward to the first Bibles. The first full texts and the first titles naming this work as the Gospel of Matthew are from the mid 4th century, likely produced after the Council of Nicea under the patronage of the Roman emperor Constantine. These manuscripts, particularly the text 35  One could argue that the Gospel of Matthew as we know it, is closer to Papias’ description of the Gospel of Mark – Greek, not in strict order, reflecting Petrine interest.

222

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

of Codex Sinaiticus, have become a type of standard text for all that follows, including critical editions such as NA28. Why then the preoccupation – both popular and critical – with an original and with the author of that first manuscript? I would suggest two reasons for the popularity and endurance of this idea. First, it is a simple explanation for a very complex problem. Secondly, those who require an authoritative ground can assign authority to the concept of an original text in the hands of an author, particularly if that author is an evangelist or an apostle or a literary genius. But they do so in the absence of any evidence that such an original ever existed.

3.0 Hebrew Matthew The manuscript tradition that was traced above shows how the text found in Codex Sinaiticus becomes, in most editions of the New Testament, the text of the Gospel of Matthew. But there are other forms of the text of the Gospel of Matthew circulating in antiquity. We have evidence of these text traditions, even though we have little in the way of manuscripts. Papias, as quoted in Eusebius, says that Matthew wrote the sayings of Jesus in Hebrew. Scholars agree that canonical Matthew is a Greek composition, and this has either led to a creative reinterpretation of Papias36 or to the conclusion that Papias was wrong. This is not, however, a necessary conclusion; it is equally plausible that there are two traditions of the Gospel of Matthew – Greek and Hebraic – and that both are original productions. Whether Hebrew Matthew is an original production or it was a translation from the Greek, this tradition was transmitted along its own trajectory into the center of Jewish Christianity. Jerome says that such a text is known, read, and preserved among the Nazarenes at Syrian Beroea. Jerome says that a copy of Hebrew Matthew is housed in the library at Caesarea, and he claims that he has copied it (de vir. ill 3). Epiphanius says the Nazarenes in the Transjordan have a Hebrew Matthew (Pan 29.9.4). Jerome claims the Ebionites also use Hebrew Matthew (in Matt. 12.13). Epiphanius says the Ebionites accept the Gospel of Matthew, but they refer to it as “according to the Hebrews” (Pan. 30.3.7). Epiphanius says the Ebionite text is different because of its lack of a genealogy, its different description of Jesus’ birth, its portrait of John the Baptist, the words spoken to Jesus at his baptism, and the claim that Jesus rejected the eating of meat (Pan. 30.13.6–7; 30.14.3–4; 30.22.4). Epiphanius also says the Cerinthians use the Gospel of Matthew and that they believe the genealogy demonstrates the natural birth of Jesus (Pan. 28.5.1).37 Cerinthians are said to quote Mt 10.24–25 (“it is 36

 That Matthew wrote in a Hebrew manner or style rather than a Hebrew dialect. use of Matthew is echoed in Filaster, div. her. liber 36.

37 The

3.0 Hebrew Matthew

223

enough for the servant to be like the master”) in support of circumcision (Pan. 28.5.1–2). Symmachus appears to anger patristic writers with his commentary, which interprets the Gospel of Matthew in light of the Hebrew Bible. While no singular line of tradition can be demonstrated, there is a widespread claim that certain groups have a Hebrew tradition of the Gospel of Matthew. The concern for a Hebrew text of the Gospel of Matthew may also be related to the Gospel of the Nazoreans. Modern scholarship has partially reconstructed this tradition on the basis of patristic citations and marginal notes in New Testament manuscripts. The length and general content of the Gospel of the Nazoreans appears to approximate that of canonical Matthew. The impact of this Hebraic tradition extends from Eusebius in the 3rd century to marginal references in manuscripts as late as the 13th century. This reconstructed text is likely the one mentioned by Jerome and Epiphanius in association with Syrian Beroea. Epiphanius, writing in 374 ce, locates Nazarenes at various places, including Syria: This heresy of the Nazoreans exists in Beroea in the neighborhood of Coele Syria and the Decapolis in the region of Pella and in Basanitis in the so-called Kokaba, Chochabe in Hebrew. (Pan. 29.7.7)

Epiphanius also refers to their literary tradition: They have the entire Gospel of Matthew in Hebrew. It is carefully preserved by them in Hebrew letters, as I wrote in the beginning. But I do not know whether they also have omitted the genealogies from Abraham to Christ. (Pan. 29.9.4)

These reports suggest more than a literary phenomenon. In the late 4th century, Jerome and Epiphanius know of Jewish Christians from Syria who practice a Hebraic tradition of scriptural interpretion, including a Hebrew version of the Gospel of Matthew. This discussion about a Hebrew Matthew has an extraordinary history that continues in the medieval period.38 Papias articulates the idea of a Hebrew Matthew (in Eusebius, HE 3.39.16), and this opinion is echoed by Irenaeus Adversus Haereses 3.1.1), by Origen (in Eusebius, HE 6.25.4); by Eusebius (HE 3.24.6); by Jerome; and by Epiphanius. In later centuries Hebrew Matthew will continue to play a role in Jewish and anti-Christian writings. Excerpts from the Gospel of Matthew are quoted in Hebrew in the Book of Nestor (c. 6th to 9th century); in the Milhamot HaShem of Jacob Reuben (1170 ce); in Sepher Joseph Hamekane by rabbi Joseph ben Nathan Official (from the 13th century ce); and by the Nizzahon Vetus (latter 13th century).39 The earliest known complete Hebrew text of the Gospel of Matthew is preserved in a 14th century treatise entitled Even

38  For an overview see George Howard, Hebrew Gospel of Matthew (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1995). 39 These passages are discussed by Howard, Hebrew Gospel of Matthew, pp. 160–61.

224

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

Bohan.40 Hebrew versions of Matthew were published by Sebastian Münster in 1537 and by Jean du Tillet in 1555, both claiming to be based on texts received from contemporary Jews. It would difficult to prove any genetic lines between these scattered testimonies to a Hebrew Matthew or to argue for a single line of tradition. What is noteworthy, however, is that the idea of a Hebraic Matthew has such vitality and endurance. It is also noteworthy that such a tradition develops around no other gospel. The details of the tradition did not survive, likely because it was considered heretical by most. But the enduring concept, most often nurtured by proponents of orthodoxy, provides an important witness to the history of development for the Gospel of Matthew. It is quite plausible, from a historical perspective, that the Gospel of Matthew developed along two distinct trajectories. The Greek text of the Gospel of Matthew circulated in a variety of Christian communities, it was taken into the canon of the Greater Church, and it helped to shape its theology. Though it cannot be proven, it is possible, and even plausible, that Hebrew Matthew was also an original production. Whatever its origins, the tradition of a Hebrew Matthew can be traced through various Jewish Christian traditions and into the communities of the East. Some lines of continuity with the versions of Matthew used in some medieval synagogues would not be impossible, but this is very difficult to demonstrate. When the tradition emerges in the medieval era, it carries signs of various intermingled traditions. Neither canonical Matthew nor Hebrew Matthew can be traced to a single manuscript or author; they are both works in process.

4.0 MS 9381: The Gospel of Matthew and the Tradition of Forgiveness We began the search for the Tradition History of the Gospel of Matthew with its sources. The composition of this gospel involves the gathering of various living traditions into the story of Jesus. These competing voices are framed in a context of conflict and contradiction. Through this generative process the Gospel of Matthew is constituted as a Living Tradition in which Jesus the messiah of Israel founds the church and sends his followers to the nations. The text of this story is transmitted through a series of manscripts. Our knowledge of these stretches from a few lines in the 2nd century (p64 and p1) to a full text in the 4th century (Codex Sinaiticus, Codex Vaticanus) to a critical text in the 21st century (NA28). 40  Howard disputes the usual interpretation that this represents a translation of the Vulgate version of the Gospel of Matthew.

4.0 MS 9381: The Gospel of Matthew and the Tradition of Forgiveness

225

I have argued that we do not have access to any original text, but I have also argued that development of a text does not end with the first manuscripts. While we may choose to focus on one or more stages, there is value in the whole process through which the Gospel of Matthew traversed. That process – the history of transmission – continues in many and various ways, and this would make an interesting and complicated study.41 Here I wish to simply illustrate this generative potential by observing the process at work in one manuscript and its community. The vitality and continuing development that is possible in a living tradition can be seen in a 10th century manuscript from the region of Cornwall in England. This manuscript, labeled as MS 9381, is dated between 941 and 1043 ce and is held in the British Library in London.42 This manuscript contains the four gospels with the text in Latin. For most of New Testament scholarship, this manuscript would be of little value in reconstructing the earliest form of the text of the Gospel of Matthew.

Figure 10.5: MS 9381 (dated 10th century ce)

While this is a late example of the Latin text, this manuscript is more interesting for what it incorporates in and around the biblical text. MS 9381 presents variants 41 This would be distinguished from the recent work in reception history in which the nachleben (afterlife, after work) of a text is explored. The focus in reception history is on the ways a foundational text has been interpreted through different contexts and eras. Reception history is, in essence, the study of how a normative text was applied or employed in subsequent history. In contrast to this approach, I am asking how the history of transmission of the text itself is a part of the history of its development – that is, its larger Tradition History. I am also suggesting that this process is not simply a matter of reception of a foundational text, but rather a generative element in the continuing development of a Living Tradition. 42 The images of MS 9381 are held under copypright by the British Library (© The British Library Board, Add. 9381) and are used with their permission. Further information and images can be found at http://www.bl.uk/manuscripts/FullDisplay.aspx?ref=Add_MS_9381.

226

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

Figure 10.6: MS 9381

Figure 10.7: MS 9381

readings, but it does so in Old English and Irish. Some formulas from the Roman Catholic mass have been interpolated into the text of the gospels. There are canon tables that guide the reader to certain topics. The most interesting of these, for this study, is a canon table that allows comparison between the Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of Mark. This recognizes the commonalities and the differences between these two gospels, and it provides tools for searching these texts.

4.0 MS 9381: The Gospel of Matthew and the Tradition of Forgiveness

Figure 10.8: MS 9381

The text is also cross-referenced to the other gospels.

Figure 10.9: MS 9381

227

228

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

The treatment of the Gospel of Matthew is noteworthy. The beginning and the end of the gospel are marked.

Figure 10.10: MS 9381

Figure 10.11: MS 9381

4.0 MS 9381: The Gospel of Matthew and the Tradition of Forgiveness

229

There is a title, but the spelling of the name of Matthew changes. The use of the name in the title also provides an opportunity to turn a letter into a cross. On folios 9–13 there is a preface and a chapter list for the Gospel of Matthew.

Figure 10.12: MS 9381

Following the four gospels is a Capitulare evangeliorum de anni circulo  – a liturgical calendar to guide the reading of the gospels through the church year.

Figure 10.13: MS 9381

230

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

Opening letters (incipits) are highlighted to guide the reading, and these are sometimes works of art.

Figure 10.14: MS 9381

Creative sketches are found in the text.

Figure 10.15: MS 9381

4.0 MS 9381: The Gospel of Matthew and the Tradition of Forgiveness

231

At one point the scribe seems to have written a letter, then paused to draw a profile of a man’s face in imitation of the letter. The manuscript also contains Anglo-Saxon neums (guides for vocalization).

Figure 10.16: MS 9381

Two characteristics are clear from this manuscript. First, while the text is valued, it is valued for use. Reading aids and worship guides impose upon the biblical text to make it more functional. Secondly, the text is developed in a number of ways toward the particular time and place in which it was used. This can be seen in the various types of language, but also in the guides to worship. The text of the Vulgate has been appropriated into the life of a group of Benedictine monks in the Cornwall priory of St. Petroc near the end of the 10th century. These additions are what makes this text so interesting, but they are also what makes it so useful. There is one other characteristic of MS 9381 that is astounding. When the text and its guides were completed there were a few pages that were blank, and quite a bit of space was available in the margins. Even though using this space would compete with the biblical text and the worship guides, it has been filled in with texts in Latin and in Old English. Some of these insertions even intrude into the space between the lines of the biblical text. Recorded here are records of those whose have been freed (manumission) at the high altar of St. Petroc’s at Bodmin in Cornwall. These are written mostly in Anglo-Saxon in a miniscule script that differs from other parts of the manuscript. Included in these manumission records are the names of three Bishops of Cornwall: Comoere, Wulfisge, and Burhwold, and likely a fourth by the name of Athelgard. Some of these manumission records have been subsequently erased from the manuscript. However, some 51 remain, and some give the date of the manumission (from 941 to 1043 ce).

232

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

Figure 10.17: MS 9381

Figure 10.18: MS 9381

One of the manumission notices is inserted just below the report of Papias on the writing of the Gospel of Matthew.

Figure 10.19: MS 9381

5.0 Conclusion

233

MS 9381 stands many years and a great distance from the report of Papias and even further from the first manuscripts. But this manuscript reveals one creative moment in the transmission history of the Gospel of Matthew, and it provides a dramatic example of the generative potential of this process. Mt 9.1–8 tells of the power of Jesus to forgive sins as he tells a paralyzed man to “take up your stretcher and go to your home.” Mt 16.19 and 18.18 tell that Jesus has given to Peter and the church the power to loose and to bind. Following that empowerment, Jesus tells Peter in Mt 18.21–22 that forgiveness toward others must go beyond the limits (not 7x, but 70x7). In all of the history of the tradition, there is no manuscript in which these texts on forgiveness are more authentic or more authoritative than MS 9381. Here their generative potential is realized in a distinctive way. In this manuscript the texts of Jesus’ words on the church, Peter, and forgiveness are intertwined with the recorded evidence of those released from guilt – a release granted at the altar in the church of St. Petroc.

5.0 Conclusion The conclusion is inescapable. The Gospel of Matthew does not present a single text that can be traced to a single manuscript and a single writer in antiquity. This is true first of all because no such text, or any copy anywhere close to the time of writing, is available to us. Secondly, even if such a text existed, it remains true that no single text, even the first one, contains the full and final significance of a Tradition.43 It is plausible to argue that there is not a single text that can be traced to a single manuscript in antiquity because no such text or manuscript existed. What existed was a wide range of early traditions about Jesus, each with its own voice and views. A diverse variety of these traditions was gathered into the Gospel of Matthew, making it a collection of competing voices. The composition history of the Gospel of Matthew goes back before the first words were written, however, for the Gospel of Matthew is a revised edition of the Gospel of Mark and a new format for the Sayings Tradition. But the history of composition also extends forward in time beyond the writing of the first words. In its simplest plausible form, the composition history included various cycles of production and performance over a number of months or years, and many hands and voices seem to be involved in its composition. Moreover, the simplest plausible description of the composition may not the most plausible; it may simply be the simplest. 43  The first text would not have been called a gospel, it would not have had the name of the writer as a title, it would not be a part of any gospel collection, it would not have been a part of any canon of the New Testament.

234

Chapter Ten: The Gospel of Matthew as Living Tradition

It is not possible to certify what the Gospel of Matthew looked like prior to its appearance in the Codex Sinaiticus around 350 ce. As noted earlier, it cannot be certified that Mt 28.16–20 was a part of this gospel prior to the Council of Nicea in 325 ce. It may have been, be we cannot know that, nor can we know when it first became a part of the text. The name of this gospel may not be earlier that the 2nd century. Neither can we certify whether or not some portions of the Hebrew Matthew tradition come from a more ancient version of the text. On the other hand, we can only work with the text we have, and we should, with critical care and acumen, work with that text. What we should not do, however, is act as if the text we have is the original text or is the only text there ever was. The manuscript tradition says otherwise, and it says so on every page of every manuscript available to us. Given the shape of human history and human transactions, it could not be otherwise. If we are left not with a fixed text whose origins and form are certain, what then are we left? We are left with a Living Tradition. We are left with our text of a work that has a long and continuing history of development. The Gospel of Matthew was never a static, fixed text to which one could assign final authority; it has always been a work in process – a Living Tradition. It was so when the stories of Jesus – parables, miracles, debates, death, resurrection – were passed around in oral form among the gatherings of his followers. It was so when the first notes were made on the sayings or the parables. It was so when the first list of scriptural proofs was collected. It was so when the sayings of Jesus became a Greek document circulating among a few communities. It was so when the Gospel of Mark challenged the dominance of the oral tradition and the prophetic voice of the sayings by telling the story of Jesus in a plotted narrative that began with his baptism and ended with his death. It was so when the Gospel of Mark was taken, almost wholesale, into the Gospel of Matthew and when the Sayings were incorporated into the Markan framework. It was so when the words of the prophets were used to show Jesus as the fulfillment of Israel’s hopes. It was true when the Gospel of Matthew was first scrawled on papyrus manuscripts. It was true when those manuscripts were copied and changed and copied again. It was true when Constantine empowered the church and the bishops began to produce great codex Bibles like Sinaiticus. It was true when a myriad of scribal hands undertook to change and edit and correct the pages of Sinaiticus. It was true when Jerome translated the text into Latin and when Wycliffe translated it into English. It was true when the story of those released from their crimes in Cornwall were gathered into the text. It was true when Ebehard Nestle and Kurt Aland and many others gathered the evidence into a critical text and apparatus. The Gospel of Matthew is a Living Tradition filled with the competing voices that shaped both its composition and its development. This is its history, but this is also what it is and what it does.

5.0 Conclusion

235

The Gospel of Matthew, as a Living Tradition, contains within its history of development multiple texts, many manuscripts, and all the tension, variety, conflict, and contradiction that goes with such a history. This should come as no surprise for those who observe the way human history works. But this should also come as no surprise since competing voices are already at work within the text itself. In its history of development, but also in its essential identity and function, the Gospel of Matthew is a Living Tradition marked by competing traditions and conflicting voices. We ask in the next chapters if we can know anything about the historical context in which this Tradition first lived. Where on the map of antiquity is the Gospel of Matthew located, and in what ways has it helped to shape that map?

Chapter Eleven

Mapping the Ancient Landscape The Gospel of Matthew provides a window through which to observe the construction and transmission of ancient texts. Such analysis can also bring insight into the way texts play a role in the construction of identity and into the process by which a group of people seeks to establish their place on the map. In order to pose these questions I have consciously stepped away from the image of Matthew as an intentional author. There are important reasons for doing so. First, we do not have access to a text of the Gospel of Matthew from its time of writing.1 Secondly, this means that we do not have access to the profile or intent of an author. Thirdly, I have argued that the key to a text like the Gospel of Matthew does not lie primarily in authorial design and intent. The generative potential of such traditions both precedes and outlives any author’s work. Thus, I have argued that the larger history of the tradition holds the key to the way in which this gospel was composed and transmitted. More importantly, the Tradition History is a part of the essential identity of this text and the way in which it functions. I have thus investigated the Gospel of Matthew as a Living Tradition. While I do not here seek to write a commentary or a comprehensive literary analysis of the Gospel of Matthew, I have employed a formalistic approach to investigate the text. This strategy brackets out, at least temporarily, the noise of external factors in order to ask what the text contains and how it operates. A narrative grammar can provide a roadmap to the text and its world, and one can argue that such an analysis should precede any line of investigation. I have consistently placed this formalistic analysis in a history of traditions (traditionsgeschichtliche) context. I have insisted throughout that the Gospel of Matthew should be read in the light of the process through which it was composed and transmitted. Such an approach may change the way we read this gospel, but it may also impact our understanding of what the gospel is and how it operates. It is tempting to stop with a formalistic analysis and with a description of the forces and processes of the Tradition History. In these regions, methodological care allows one to describe and analyze on the basis of observable and, to 1 The Gospel of Matthew is likely written in the last decades of the first century ce. Our nearest continuous text is some 250 years after the time of writing. In between lie some dozen manuscript fragments containing some 25 % of the verses and even less of the total content.

1.0 Conflict and Collaboration: The Larger Mediterranean World

237

some extent, controllable factors.2 These controls become less certain when one wanders into the morass of history, particularly the reconstructed history of a different age and another culture. It is tempting to continually interpret the tradition from the safety of its literary boundaries and from the comfort of familiar interpretive circles. For some, however, the field of history cannot, and should not, be avoided. We turn then to ask how the Gospel of Matthew was situated and functioned within a particular history and within a specific historical context. In doing so, we leave the safety of the text before us to wander past the boundaries and, in some sense, off the map. We do so fully cognizant of the potential pitfalls and fully aware of the warnings posted on the margins that read: “Here be dragons!” The challenge is to locate the Gospel of Matthew on the map of the ancient Mediterranean world with a focus on the first four centuries of the common era. This analysis is not simply about time and place; it is also concerned for the dynamics through which a group of people define their identity and claim a place on that landscape. I will give particular attention to how they do so in relation to traditions, historical realities, and the claims of other groups. The map of antiquity will be investigated from three perspectives with increasing specificity: the larger Mediterranean world, the landscape of Palestine, and the specific location of the Gospel of Matthew. I will also argue that the Gospel of Matthew is in the process of creating a new landscape. One way to analyze this landscape is to attend to the dialectical relationships in which any cultural unit enages. These multiple lines of engagement help to characterize a country or a culture not only in terms of status, but also through the defining relationships of collaboration and conflict.

1.0 Conflict and Collaboration: The Larger Mediterranean World By the middle of the first century Rome had encompassed the shores of the Mediterranean and was extending its influence in all directions. The empire was extended across three continents and incorporated a wide variety of cultures, languages, and religions. The Mediterranean map can be defined through three dialectical relationships in which Rome was engaged. 1.1 Culture Rome was engaged in a cultural dialectic with a wide range of groups and traditions, from Parthians and Germans and Scots on the borders to various people groups across Europe and Asia and Africa. The primary dialogue, however, was with Greek culture. 2 Even

the projected history of Chapter Eight is a function of the text.

238

Chapter Eleven: Mapping the Ancient Landscape

As the military successors of Alexander, Rome also sought to appropriate the cultural ideals of the Greeks. Among these were their literature, sculpture, philosophy, architecture, gods, and, in many places, their language. The Romans were adept at roads, armies, concrete, and tables of laws, but they looked to the Greeks for various other cultural expressions. Virgil’s Aneid, for example, says that Rome was founded by heroes from the Trojan war and the Odyssey. Greek Temples provide the template for Roman constructions, and Greek gods and goddesses were Romanized. The resulting Graeco-Roman culture was built on both conflict and collaboration, and this dialectical relationship was central to the shaping of the Mediterranean world. 1.2 Political and Economic Relationships The Roman Empire was built on the strength of its army, but it was maintained through the power of diplomacy and trade. When Rome conquered a land, it typically honored local religious and cultural traditions and often employed the ruling class to administer the territory. Rome was primarily interested in stability, respect, taxes, and trade, and they typically ruled through tolerance and collaboration. Their empire was sustained as long as it was primarily because of Roman roads and trade and because of their skill in diplomacy. 1.3 The Peculiar Case of the Jews Roman rule in Palestine took on different dimensions. Among the pagan world, Jews were the one major group not willing to pay homage to the Roman gods and and not willing to offer sacrifices in the cult of Rome. To participate in the cult of Rome, thus asking for divine blessing on the state, was a civic duty, and not to do so could be perceived as a sign of treason and sedition. Jews demonstrated not only that they would not sacrifice to Rome, but also that they were willing to die in large numbers for not doing so. Consequently, the Romans negotiated different rules for the Jews, whom they saw as an ancient and venerable tradition. Jews had to pay taxes and they had to make sacrifices and prayers in their Temple for Rome, but they did not generally have to sacrifice to Rome or the Roman deities. For most of first century Rome empowered the ruling class of Judea to collect the taxes and to maintain the peace. Beyond this, Rome tolerated what they saw as rather odd religious teachings and practices, including the rites of the Temple. This toleration was much simpler in the diaspora cities where Jews lived as a minority among pagan cultures. It proved more difficult in Palestine and in the shadow of the Temple. Perhaps the clearest illustration of this collaborative relationship is the Herodian Temple in Jerusalem. This Jewish place of worship was built as a symbol of Roman power, it was built in Hellenistic style, and its patron was Judeo-Idumean. Nonetheless, the Temple was wholly run by the priests and by the ruling

2.0 Conflict and Collaboration: Palestine

239

class of Judea. When Titus crushed the 1st Jewish revolt, he made a particular point of taking apart the Temple stone by stone. The peace was always a fragile one, with a series of insurrections and military counter actions. For the most part, however, Rome successfully negotiated the challenges and incorporated Palestine into their larger Mediterranean world. 1.4 Summation These circles of influence help to map the dynamics at play in the larger Mediterranean world. Rome employed its military and economic power as well as its diplomat skills to establish and sustain an empire across three continents. Rome added to its own cultural legacy the traditions borrowed and reshaped from a wide variety of peoples, but the primary engagement was with Hellenism. In one corner of the empire, the Jewish people engaged Rome in a peculiar dialectical relationship that tended to strain the limits of both traditions. Thus, the Mediteranean landscape can be understood through the various circles of influence through which the Romans maintained control and exterted their power. Because of these dialectical engagements, Rome was able to sustain, for a considerable period, an empire composed mostly of non-citizens who did not speak their language, including some who did not practice nor respect their civic and religious traditions. They did so by imposing their will upon most conquered people, but also by toleration of various religions, particularly ancient ones. They adapted to differing historical realities, staying below the Rhine, building Hadrian’s wall to keep out the Scots and the Picts, and tolerating the unusual ways of the Jews. The Romans ruled wherever they could through collaboration with people groups, particularly the ruling classes, but with brutal military power when and where they chose.

2.0 Conflict and Collaboration: Palestine In the Jewish homeland a different set of dialectical relationships shaped the landscape. Various cultural, political, and religious engagements defined the land of Palestine and the experience of the Jewish people. 2.1 Culture Long before Rome came onto the horizon, the encounter with Hellenistic culture reshaped the landscape of Judaism. Alexander conquered the region on his way to Egypt, and in his aftermath the Seleucids and the Ptolemies exercised control. Greek pagan culture, with its language and philosophies, its theaters and gymnasiums, and its many altars and temples and divinities, was not an easy fit

240

Chapter Eleven: Mapping the Ancient Landscape

for Jews in the homeland. While the diaspora communities adapted more readily, Greek culture was less well received in traditional Jewish territory. The initial engagement with Hellenism involved dimensions that were, at the same time, political, cultural, and religious. The Maccabean revolt (167–164 bce) and the subsequent rule of the Hasmoneans should be understood in this framework. The nationalism of the Maccabeans was at the same time a revolt against the religious and cultural demands of paganism in the form of Hellenistic culture. The revolt started in response to the attempt to place a statue of Antiochus in the Jerusalem Temple. Even when Rome took control of Judea in 63 bce, the engagement with Hellenism remained a defining part of the landscape. When the Romans addressed the Jews or when the Jews addressed the Romans, they typically did so in Greek. The Romans built Greek buildings in Palestine, particularly in Jerusalem and Caesarea Maritima, and Sepphoris was home to a Greek styled theater. In both its earlier Hellenistic form, mediated through Alexander and his successors, and in the Graeco-Roman form administered through Roman rule, Palestine was engaged in half a millenium of conflict and collaboration with the ideals of Greece. 2.2 Politics Roman rule in Palestine shifted between patterns of collaboration and conflict. Martin Goodman argues that the relationship was primed for disaster from the time direct Roman rule began in 6 ce.3 Goodman notes the way Rome was administered by a wealthy ruling class who could serve the state more effectively in times of war. He argues that Rome applied this familiar strategy to their conquered territories. The Romans therefore expected to find in each province a clearly defined aristocracy which, like their own, would be in control of war, law, religion, and politics, and membership of which would be confined to the landed rich.4

This arrangement, when it worked, provided security and generated the tax revenue from the landed collaborators. Goodman believes the Romans misread the situation in Judea when they imposed direct rule in 6 ce. He suggests that Herod had suppressed the leading families because they competed with his authority. Since Herod was as much Idumaean as Jewish, he did not allow Jewish rivals to gain power.

3  Martin Goodman, The Ruling Class of Judea: The Origins of the Jewish Revolt against Rome A. D. 66–70 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987). 4 Goodman, The Ruling Class of Judea, p. 35

2.0 Conflict and Collaboration: Palestine

241

There was no natural Judaean elite to which Rome could turn on Herod’s death in 4 B. C. or the deposition of Archelaus in A. D. 6, despite the fact that, on both occasions, the Romans much wished that such an elite did exist.5

Goodman argues that Herod employed similar techniques to limit the power of the High Priest. Since he did not trust descendants of the Hasmoneans and he could not appoint fellow Idumaeans to this ancestral position, he filled the position with what Goodman calls “nonentities.”6 The High Priests he appointed almost all came from Alexandria and Babylonia, from families which had hitherto had no connection with Judaean politics and which could therefore claim no allegiance from any section of the population. Their only qualification for office came from the purity of their priestly lineage. They were deliberately excluded from secular affairs, and their influence was confined by Herod to the management of the Temple. Lest even this prestige should render them dangerous, their status in the eyes of the Jews was further undermined by Herod’s adoption of the Hellenistic custom of occasionally transferring the office to a new incumbent on the bases of whim and political calculation. In thirty-three years no fewer than seven High Priests were appointed.7

Nonetheless, says Goodman, “it was to such High Priests that Rome handed over power in A. D. 6.”8 Goodman argues that these rulers never won the support of the Jewish population, and they never gained the full confidence of Rome. Because of this, lines of division and competition emerged within the ruling class, with each side using gangs and thugs to impose their will. Goodman argues that the ruling class engaged in factional struggles before the revolt in 66 ce and throughout the period of independence (66–70 ce). This factionalism exploded into a civil war that played out within the walls of Jerusalem in the final days before the Romans destroyed the city.9 Goodman argues that the leaders of the factions hired bandits and mercenaries who had retreated from the countryside. While the leaders of the factions sought power, the men they hired sought loot, and Josephus says that in the last days of the war they found it in the homes of the wealthy ruling class in Jerusalem.10 Goodman concludes that As so often, the civil war in which these peasant soldiers exulted and in which many of them died was not ultimately to the benefit of any of them. They fought against each other as the tools of the rich ruling class of Judaea, who exploited them politically in the free Jewish state just as they had exploited them economically while Roman power remained intact.11

 5 Goodman,

The Ruling Class of Judea, p. 41.  Goodman, The Ruling Class of Judea, p. 41.  7  Goodman, The Ruling Class of Judea, p. 41.  8 Goodman, The Ruling Class of Judea, p. 42.  9  See especially pp. 152–175 of Goodman, The Ruling Class of Judea. 10  Jewish Wars 4.560. 11 Goodman, The Ruling Class of Judea, p. 227.  6

242

Chapter Eleven: Mapping the Ancient Landscape

Josephus says the 1st Jewish War was brought about by divine providence because of the absence of concord and harmony within the nation. Goodman believes that behind this comment is something Josephus does not want to discuss in detail: the catastrophic role played by a struggle for power within the ruling class of Judea.12 For Goodman, this division explains not only the last days of the war, but the Roman military and political strategy. He argues that Rome recognized that the rebellion was led by the ruling class on which they traditionally depended, so they razed the city, killed the priests who had surrendered, and pulled down the Temple. In the aftermath of the war, when Rome normally negotiated powers of administration and gave land to the local ruling class, Rome prevented the rebuilding of the Temple, and thus the rebuilding of Jewish faith and culture. Goodman concludes that the extraordinary hostility of the Roman state towards Judaism as a cult after A. D. 70, which must have been caused by the Jews’ behaviour during the war since it had not apparently existed widely before, derived from the Roman’s fury at precisely the participation in the revolt of the Judaean ruling class …. From the point of view of the Romans, that ruling class had been favoured as a provincial administration as much as that in any other province. They had repaid trust and favour with ingratitude and violent revolt. Their actions were therefore inexplicable except as the mad barbarity of adherents of a religion committed to oppose the civilized world. Therefore both the religion and the ruling class were to be altogether expunged for the sake of the empire’s security. Jews evidently could not live in the Roman world of peace.13

Goodman notes that the annihilation and dispersion and the refusal to restore the Temple gave Rome a control that lasted for some sixty years. But this means that in the 2nd Jewish War, the ruling class no longer had the option of collaboration with Rome, and they had no other alternative but to fight. Surviving evidence indicates that wealthy Jews died alongside the revolutionaries in the final days in the deserts of Judea. Goodman concludes that Hadrian’s solution to the intractable problem was awesomely simple and in its crude efficiency unique in the Roman treatment of revolts. The rebellious nation was deported from its homeland. No Jew was ever again to enter the territory of Jerusalem, on pain of death. … In their treatment of Judaea the Romans had made a desert and called it peace.14

2.3 Jews in Dialectical Relationship with other Jews Chapter Nine discussed the various ways in which Jewish groups projected their relationship with other Jewish groups. It considered as well the various ways in which scholars have reconstructed this landscape. However one reconstructs the  Goodman, The Ruling Class of Judea, especially p. 20.  Goodman, The Ruling Class of Judea, p. 239. 14 Goodman, The Ruling Class of Judea, p. 251. 12 13

2.0 Conflict and Collaboration: Palestine

243

era, it is clear that Jewish groups framed their identity in dialectical relationships with others. Josephus does this in part when he explains the points on which Pharisees and Sadducees disagree, such as the role of fate. References at Qumran to the Wicked Priest and persecution of the Teacher of Righteousness are examples of this dialectic. The contrast between attention to ritual and apocalyptic hopes can define opposite ends of a continuum (Pharisees), but they can also be held in close connection (Qumran). Some Jews will spurn Greek language, concepts, and rhetorical techniques like allegory, while others will proudly embrace them. Various coalitions will emerge between the ruling class and other groups, scribes may be aligned across several categories, rebels may also be priests, or even messiahs. This dialectic of conflict and collaboration may be illustrated in two specific examples. First, different Jewish groups understood the requirements for purity and Temple sacrifice in different ways. This difference is played out in an objective way when Pharisees and Essenes carry out sacrifice in different physical locations within the Temple complex. A second illustration can be seen in the alliances created by the ruling class. They exercised authority over life in Jerusalem and even the Temple because of their collaboration with the Romans. Within the Jewish field, the ruling class allied with the Sadducees in the running of the Temple. In the last phases of the 1st Jewish War, however, the ruling class sought to use various rebel leaders to advance their interests. To their surprise, the rebel leaders began to exercise their own authority against the interests of the ruling class. In the final days of the siege, Jerusalem was racked by a civil war in which the rebels were plundering the rich and Jews were killing Jews. After the fall of the Temple, Rome abandoned its traditional policy of collaborating with the ruling elites to rebuild and to administer the country, turning instead to direct rule. While these were troubled times, they illustrate the larger patterns of conflict and collaboration through which various Jewish groups negotiated their place on the landscape. 2.4 Samaritans Scholars of Judaism often describe a coherent entity that tolerated many different understandings and practices. This goes back in part to Josephus, who says that, unlike the Greeks, Jews are agreed in all things that matter. He then describes a variety of sectarian groups and practices. Scholars once described the unified vision of Judasim as a creation by the rabbis at Jamnia in the aftermath of the Jewish War. Even those who take a more critical view of Jamnia sometimes argue that the rabbis created a Judaism in which all positions could be argued and tolerated. Almost all lines of this argument, however, ignore the Samaritans. Living at the patriarchal holy site of Shechem and worshipping at a Temple on Mount Gerazim were semitic monotheists who worshipped the one God of Israel, who read

244

Chapter Eleven: Mapping the Ancient Landscape

and valued the Pentateuch, who offered sacrifice at their Temple, and who kept purity laws in their daily lives. They lived on the land of Israel – the territory of the ancient northern kingdom – and they understood themselves as descendants of Abraham and Sarah and as children of the covenant. In the time of Ezra and Nehemiah and the return from Persia, they offered to help rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem. Their offer was rejected, and a long history of division and conflict ensued. While these lines of division may appear definitive in the writings of Josephus and the rabbis and early Christians, critical scholarship cannot accept this simple characterization. It is likely this demarcation roots in the ancient distinction between Israel and Judea and in their different cultural and historical experiences.15 The Samaritans, however, believed they belonged on the first century map of Israel because, as a matter of fact, they were Israel. Whatever dialectical lines existed among various constituencies within the formative years of Judaism, this particular line of demarcation was a boundary of exclusion. Any consistent scholarly reconstruction must include this broken relationship as a part of the landscape. 2.5 The Peculiar Case of the Christians A part of the dialectic between various groups of Jews evolved along a distinctive course. John the Baptist and Jesus cannot be understood outside the framework of Judaism. Various texts in the New Testament show others trying to locate these two figures on the map of Judaism. This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him “Who are you?” He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.” And they asked him, “What then? Are you Elijah?” He said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” He answered, “No.” Then they said to him, “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?” (Jn 1.19–22).

A similar question is posed to Jesus. And they came again into Jerusalem. And while he was walking around in the Temple, the chief priests and the scribes and the elders come to him and say to him, “In what authority are you doing these things and who gave to you the authority so that you should do these things?” (Mk 11.27–28; see also Acts 4.7)

In an interesting twist, Jesus refuses to answer their question until they answer his.

15 Judah was never exiled to Assyria, and Samaria fared better with the Romans. The debate over racial purity is outside and beneath the concerns of critical scholarship. It is ironic, however, that the Temple at Jerusalem was built by an Idumean-Judean in Greek style under Roman authority, but Samaritans were excluded from it on the perception of racial differences.

2.0 Conflict and Collaboration: Palestine

245

The baptism of John, was it from heaven or from humans? And they debated among themselves …” (Mk 11.30–31)

Jesus also initiates this dialogue among his own followers. In a scene set at Caesarea Philippi, Jesus asks his disciples “Who are people saying the Son of Man is?” His followers echo what they have heard: “Some (say) John the Baptist, but others Elijah, by others Jeremiah or one of the prophets” (Mt 16.13–14). The initial question about Jesus and his followers was “What kind of Jews are these?” The book of Acts reverses the flow of the debate, and Peter addresses the “people of Judea and all who live in Jerusalem” and “You that are Israelites,” calling them to change their understanding of Judaism: “Let all of the house of Israel know for certain that God has made him lord and messiah, this Jesus whom you crucified.” (Acts 2.14,22,36) Paul will respond to challenges by quoting his Jewish vita: If anyone has reason to boast in the flesh I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, a member of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the Law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the Law, blameless. (Phil 3.4–6)

John the Baptist and James, like Essenes, Pharisees, and Sadducees, are treated by Josephus as a part of the dialectical circle of Judaism. Josephus says of John: Now some of the Jews thought that the destruction of Herod’s army came from God, and was a very just punishment for what he did against John called the baptist. For Herod had him killed, although he was a good man and had urged the Jews to exert themselves to virtue, both as to justice toward one another and reverence towards God, and having done so join together in washing. For immersion in water, it was clear to him, could not be used for the forgiveness of sins, but as a sanctification of the body, and only if the soul was already thoroughly purified by right actions. And when others massed about him, for they were very greatly moved by his words, Herod, who feared that such strong influence over the people might carry to a revolt – for they seemed ready to do any thing he should advise – believed it much better to move now than later have it raise a rebellion and engage him in actions he would regret. And so John, out of Herod’s suspiciousness, was sent in chains to Machaerus, the fort previously mentioned, and there put to death; but it was the opinion of the Jews that out of retribution for John, God willed the destruction of the army so as to afflict Herod. (Ant 18.116–119)

Josephus tells of the death of the apostle James at the hands of the high priest Ananus. He says that Ananus was “a bold man in his temper, and very insolent” and that “he was also of the sect of the Sadducees, who are very rigid in judging offenders.” (Ant 20.199). Josephus says that Ananus took advantage of an interim period to exercise his authority: Festus was now dead, and Albinus was but upon the road; so he assembled the Sanhedrin of judges, and brought before them the brother of Jesus, who was called Christ, whose name was James, and some others; and when he had formed an accusation against them

246

Chapter Eleven: Mapping the Ancient Landscape

as breakers of the law, he delivered them to be stoned; but as for those who seemed the most equitable of the citizens, and such as were the most uneasy at the breach of the laws, they disliked what was done; they also sent to the king desiring him to send to Ananus that he should act so no more, for that what he had already done was not to be justified. (Ant 20.200)

The accounts of Josephus are not far from stories found in the New Testament. Joseph of Arimathea, “a respected member of the council, who was also himself waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God,” takes care of the body of Jesus (Mk 15.42–46). In the Gospel of John, Joseph has become a secret disciple (Jn 19.38), and he is joined by Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews (Jn 3.1–2; 19; 39). By the time and place of the writing of the Gospel of John, however, the compass is broken: Joseph of Arimathea, member of the council, comes in secrecy because he fears “the Jews.” While the New Testament claims Joseph and Nicodemus as followers of Jesus, it suggests that Gamaliel is a reasonable Pharisee and leader who counsels tolerance about the message of the apostles. (Acts 5.33–39) In the Pseudo-Clementine writings, Gamaliel becomes a secret Christian (Recognitions 1.65.1–5). The Gospel of John thus foreshadows what will happen in various ways and times and places, but not all: Jews and Christians will located themselves on separates maps. This is an extended and variegated process through the first four centuries of the common era, but there will come a time when most Christians and most Jews maintain distinct identities and live in separate worlds. Jacob Neusner attempts to reconstruct this process. He believes the Jewish engagement of Christianity can be mapped in two distinct phases and these phases can be traced in two distinct traditions of literature.16 In the aftermath of the fall of the Temple, rabbinic Judaism was formulated around its emphasis on sanctification and its political strategy of accommodation. Neusner calls this era “Judaism without Christianity” and sees its values represented in the Mishnah. Neusner argues that changes appearing in the Talmud of the Land of Israel reflect the second phase. What changed were those components of Judaism of the dual Torah – mode of symbolization of Rome, means of working out the results of the exegetical method, definition of systemic teleology and restatement in historical and eschatological terms, and central symbol of the whole – that came into question because of the political consequences of the Christianization of the Roman Empire.17

Neusner thus argues that Judaism reshaped itself as part of its dialectical relationship with Christianity.

16

 Jacob Neusner, Judaism in the Matrix of Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986). Judaism in the Matrix of Christianity, p. xiv.

17 Neusner,

2.0 Conflict and Collaboration: Palestine

247

My proposition is that it was in direct response to the challenge of Christianity triumphant that the Judaism of the dual Torah took shape in the fourth century, and came to its first documentary expression in the writings of the early fifth century.18

The changes in the view of Rome, the Messiah, the Torah, and the composition of books of exegesis of scripture create what Neusner calls “Judaism despite Christianity” and allowed it to thrive under Christendom. Neusner contends this was a direct response to Constantine’s endorsement of Christianity and the church’s formulation of orthodoxy and canon. Judaism was born in the matrix of Christianity because the Judaism of the dual Torah, coming to its first systematic and complete statement in the pages of the Talmud of the Land of Israel, came forth as offspring of the Christianity of the fourth century. The system in its first distinctive formulation presented a point-by-point response to an unprecedented challenge of a very particular character.19

This is required in part because Christianity had taken up important pieces of Jewish tradition: Sharing the Torah of Israel, therefore claiming the attention of Israel’s sages, and with the political power to make that claim stick, Christianity spoke of the Messiah now King, of the cross now in the heavens, of the ineluctable meaning and message of the Old Testament, of Rome as God’s instrument through the Christian emperors. And the Judaism of the dual Torah took full and ample note of the message, hence, Judaism in the matrix of Christianity.20

While the response is formulated because of Christianity, Neusner makes it clear there is another audience. And it was a Judaism that enjoyed remarkable success in Christendom, answering the urgent questions of Christianity with a response of, to Jews, self-evident and compelling power: God loves Israel, the Jewish people, and the Torah is the symbol of that love.21

At the heart of Neusner’s proposal is the idea that Christianity, in dialogue with the traditions of Israel, formulated its own map of the world. The rabbis then responded by reclaiming and adapting those traditions to assert their own identity and to stake out a safe place on the newly formed landscape. Neusner accurately describes the dynamics of the process by which Christianity and Judaism constructed their sense of identity and place and how they do so in a dialectical relationship to one another. His model falters, however, in limiting this process to the 4th century and beyond. His model also falters by understanding the writings of the rabbis as the sole voice of Judaism in the preceding centuries. 18 Neusner,

Judaism in the Matrix of Christianity, p. xiii.  Neusner, Judaism in the Matrix of Christianity, p. xv. 20  Neusner, Judaism in the Matrix of Christianity, p. xv. 21 Neusner, Judaism in the Matrix of Christianity, pp. xv–xvi. 19

248

Chapter Eleven: Mapping the Ancient Landscape

It is clear that the formative years of the Christian movement are framed through engagement with Jewish traditions. Within the New Testament, Jesus is presented as one who affirms the Law of Moses, then offers a distinct interpretation of purity and practice in light of the coming Kingdom. Peter and the apostles are shown worshiping in the Temple and arguing before the people of Israel that Jesus is the promised Messiah. Within the pages of the New Testament gospel writers cite the scriptures of Israel and insist that the words of the prophets are fulfilled in the story of Jesus. Within the New Testament are also the first hints of a theology in which Jesus supercedes the Temple and the church supercedes Israel. Neusner’s portrait is ultimately one-sided. He presents on the one hand Christian leaders deeply involved with Roman political power and contrasts them to the sages in communities of study. But it was rabbi Judah the Prince who imposed unity through the Mishnah, and he did so with the patronage of the Roman emperor. Wherever rabbinic Judaism and orthodox Christianity were able to impose their will upon great stretches of the ancient landscape, both did so under the patronage of Roman imperial authority. While the early stages of rabbinic literature largely ignore Jesus and the Christian movement,22 I have argued that various Jewish constituencies were engaged in dialogue and debate with formative Christianity. Prophetic movements did not cease simply because the rabbis ignored them, nor did Jews stop writing apocalypses or practicing allegorical interpretation or speaking Greek or collaborating with Rome simply because the rabbis ignored them. I have argued in Jewish Ways of Following Jesus23 that the dialogue and the dialectic continued in various ways and in various places throughout the first four centuries of the common era. For some, this was more than a rhetorical strategy; it was embodied in their own identity. While the terms Jewish Christian and Jewish Christianity are constructs of modern scholarship, they point to a reality in the ancient world. They are a scholarly label for Persons and groups in antiquity whose historical profile suggests that they both follow Jesus and maintain Jewishness and that they do so as a continuation of God’s covenant with Israel.24

The most significant developments can be traced back to Jerusalem or to Palestine. The Jersusalem community was composed of Jewish followers of Jesus, and most scholars now agree that it provided the center for most forms of Christianity up to the 1st Jewish War (66–74 ce). The book of Acts describes the Jerusalem community as an idealized form of Judaism and understands it as the 22 When cryptic references do appear, they are late and tend to appear in the Babylonian Talmud. 23  Broadhead, Jewish Ways of Following Jesus. 24 Broadhead, Jewish Ways of Following Jesus, p. 56.

2.0 Conflict and Collaboration: Palestine

249

first stage of the mission to the Gentiles. Even when his focus turns to Paul, the story continues to pass through Jerusalem. Central to this phase is the leadership of James, the brother of Jesus. It is plausible that the Jerusalem community continued after the war under Jewish Christian leaders, primarily from the family of Jesus, and that this group continued to play a central role in the larger world of Christianity. It appears that things change with the failure of the 2nd Jewish revolt (132–135 ce), when Jews were forbidden to enter Jerusalem. If this timeline is correct, the Jewish Christian community in Jerusalem served as the center for almost every form of Christianity in the first one hundred years of its existence, and it did so in a dialectical relationship with other forms of Judaism. At least five trajectories can be traced through which Jewish Christianity moved from Jerusalem into the wider Jewish world. The book of Acts records the expansion of Christianity in the tracks of a variety of Jerusalem missionaries. In addition to the devout Jews from the many nations who were gathered at Pentecost (Acts 2.5–13), Acts says the entire community, except for the apostles, was scattered by the first persecution (Acts 8.1–4; 11.19–21). Among those specifically described as missionaries are: Philip (Acts 8.4–13, 26–40); Peter and John (Acts 8.14–25); Peter (Acts 9.32–10.48); Barnabas (Acts 11.22–24).

From Jerusalem a letter is sent to Antioch, Syria, and Cilicia to publicize the decision made in Jerusalem about the Gentile mission (Acts 15.22–29). Acts thus describes the spread of Christianity from Jerusalem to various Jewish communities. Acts also locates the origins and the authorization of the Gentile mission in the Jerusalem community. Three specific trajectories are suggested by the development of Jewish Christian communities at Antioch, at Alexandria, and at Rome. Acts shows Antioch as a development from the Jerusalem community, and it traces continued correspondence and visits between the two communities (Acts 11.27–30). Paul says that the “brothers of the Lord” (1 Cor. 9.5) are traveling missionaries, and activity of this type likely create a trajectory to Rome. Archeological and sociological analysis suggest that Jewish Christians, like earlier Jews, came to Rome along the trade routes from the east. The Christian community that arises in Rome will demonstrate a deep heritage in Judaism and an extraordinary process for preservation and transmission of Jewish traditions. Some scholars have suggested the earliest theology at Rome echoes the tradition of James. These traditions and influences almost certainly come from Palestine, likely from Jerusalem.

250

Chapter Eleven: Mapping the Ancient Landscape

A similar development seems to be at work in Alexandria. Barnabas is associated with Alexandria, as is the name of the evangelist Mark. The Gospel of Matthew and the Gospel of John are known there by the 2nd century. The first Christian known from Alexandria is Apollos, a Jewish follower of Jesus who combines rhetorical eloquence with exegetical skill. Thus, Alexandria also appears to lie along a trajectory that leads back to Palestine and Jerusalem. A fifth trajectory connects Jerusalem to the Transjordan. Eusebius reports that the Jerusalem community fled in the face of the 1st Jewish revolt to Pella in the Transjordan (HE 3.5.3), a tradition that is echoed by Epiphanius (De mens. et pond. 15). Both writers suggest the community returned to Jerusalem in the years following the revolt (HE 4.5.1; De mens. et pond. 15). Epiphanus subsequently locates both Nazarenes and Ebionites in this area (Pan. 29.7.7; 30.2.7). Archeological evidence supports the existence of Jewish Christians in the Transjordan in the 4th century, though the material may be earlier. Another trajectory from Jerusalem or Palestine to the communities of the East is plausible, but this cannot be demonstrated. The dialectical relationship that began when followers of Jesus worshipped in the Temple likely endured in Jerusalem until the 2nd Jewish War. Morever, various trajectories link this Jewish Christian community to the wider Jewish world. Thus, we can speak of the silence of the rabbis for some periods, but not of the absence of engagement between Jews and the followers of Jesus. This is certainly true for followers of Jesus who are Jewish and for later generations who continue to draw upon Jewish texts and interpretive traditions. This engagement can be observed in various times and places throughout the formative period of both traditions. 2.6 Summation In Palestine in the years before and after the 1st Jewish War, Jews defined their identity through a series of dialogical or dialectical relationships. They both appropriated and despised the intrusions of Hellenism. Jews collaborated with the Romans and they revolted against them. Jews argued, debated, competed, and cooperated with other Jews. The dialectic between Jews and followers of Jesus, carried out in different times and places and in a variety of discourses, was important in the formative years of both traditions. These dialectical lines of collaboration and conflict vary in time and tenor, but they play a key role in how Jews perceived their identity and negotiated their place on the landscape of antiquity.

3.0 Conflict and Collaboration: The Local Context of the Gospel of Matthew

251

3.0 Conflict and Collaboration: The Local Context of the Gospel of Matthew We do not know precisely where the Gospel of Matthew was written, but we do know some characteristics. This gospel was written in a place with the education, tools, money, and opportunity needed to support writing. It was also written in a place where Jews had synagogues and followers of Jesus would soon have churches. These and various other elements suggest an urban setting with strong contacts to both Palestine and the larger Mediterranean world. For this reason, most scholars have suggested that Syrian Antioch, located on the Orontes River, is the most plausible place of writing. Here we will explore the dynamics at work within Antioch in this period. We will then consider how the Gospel of Matthew would engage this, or a similar, historical context. 3.1 Antioch on the Axis of Graeco-Roman History Founded at the crossroads of the eastern Mediterranean world, Syrian Antioch experienced sweeping changes that were reflected in its cultural and religious history.25 The city was found on the Orontes River in 300 bce by the Seleucid successors of Alexander. Seleucus I Nicator named the town after his father Antiochus. It was built on the model of Hellenistic cities, with temples and with statues to Greek divinities and Seleucid leaders. In the next generation the city was made the capital of the Seleucid kingdom.26 Various other cultures from the Hellenistic world shaped the life of Antioch. The leader Antiochus II Theos (261–247/46 bce) married Berenice, daughter of the Ptolemaic rule of Egypt. Cults from areas such as Cyprus were introduced, and Greek settlers were brought in. Antiochus III built a temple to Zeus, perhaps with his own likeness.27 In the face of growing Roman power, Antiochus IV Epiphanes (174–163 bce) sought to strengthen the city by uniting its people around the ruler cult. When he sought to impose this strategy on Jerusalem and its Temple, the Maccabean revolt ensued (167–164 bce). While Antioch does not appear to have been a battlefield, Antiochus’ actions divided the Jewish population in Antioch into two factions: collaborators and resisters. Josephus indicates that in later years Jewish troops 25 On the history of Antioch see, among others, Wayne Meeks and Robert Wilken, Jews and Christians in Antioch in the First Four Centuries of the Common Era (Ann Arbor: Scholars Press, 1978); Magnus Zetterholm, The Formation of Christianity in Antioch: A social-scientific approach to the separation between Judaism and Christianity (London: Routledge, 2003). 26  Zetterholm, The Formation of Christianity in Antioch, pp. 18–20. 27  Zetterholm, The Formation of Christianity in Antioch, pp. 19–20. Zetterholm thinks the cults of Isis and Sarapis may have been introduced as well.

252

Chapter Eleven: Mapping the Ancient Landscape

from the Hasmoneans participated in a civil war in Antioch, siding with the king against much of the populace (Ant 13.138–139). Antioch fell to Roman rule in 64 bce. Julius Caesar (49–44 bce) sponsored a building program in Antioch, including a Kaisaron, renovation of the Pantheon, public baths, and a theater. Jews in Antioch had property confiscated under Cassius, then restored by Anthony.28 Antioch prospered under the Pax Romana of Augustus (30 bce-14 ce). Syria was made into an imperial province, and Antioch was the seat of administration. The beginnings of the Olympic Games of Antioch trace to the time of Augustus. The city was expanded, and a large building program was undertaken.29 From the time of Gaius (37–41 ce), the Jewish community was involved in a series of incidents that would culminate in the 1st Jewish War. Antioch thus typifies the experience of cities in the Graeco-Roman world. The unifying power of Hellenistic culture, with its temples and divinities, its theaters and statuary, its assemblies, and its language, characterized the history of Antioch. At the same time, Antioch passed through a series of rulers and was taken into the empire of Rome. A wide variety of cultures, traditions, and religions circulated through the history of the city. Among the largest and strongest of these minorities were the Jews. 3.2 Antioch on the Axis of Jewish History Josephus says that Jews were among the founding generation of Antioch, having been granted privileges by its founders. Josephus indicates some of these were Jewish soldiers who were rewarded for their service in Asia.30 Apart from the period of the Maccabean revolt, Josephus gives a rather positive view of Jewish life in Antioch. He says that Jews were particularly numerous in Syria, where intermingling is due to the proximity of the two countries. But it was at Antioch that they specially congregated, partly owing to the greatness of that city, but mainly because the successors of King Antiochus had enabled them to live there in security. For, although Antiochus surnamed Epiphanes sacked Jerusalem and plundered the temple, his successors on the throne restored to the Jews of Antioch all such votive offerings as were made of brass, to be laid up in their synagogue, and, moreover, granted them citizen rights on an equality with the Greeks. Continuing to receive similar treatment from later monarchs, the Jewish colony grew in numbers, and their richly designed and costly offerings formed a splendid ornament to the temple. Moreover, they were constantly attracting to their religious ceremonies multitudes of Greeks, and these they had in some measure incorporated with themselves. (Jewish Wars 7.44–45)

 Zetterholm, The Formation of Christianity in Antioch, pp. 21–22.  Zetterholm, The Formation of Christianity in Antioch, p. 24. 30 See the discussion in Zetterholm, The Formation of Christianity in Antioch, p. 31. 28 29

3.0 Conflict and Collaboration: The Local Context of the Gospel of Matthew

253

While Jewish synagogues may have been viewed as members of the collegia (assemblies), Jews seem to receive privilege and protection beyond the norm. Josephus also seems to suggest that Jews in Antioch are citizens (Contra Apionem 2.39; Ant 12.119). Some of the plunder taken by Antiochus Epiphanes from the Temple was said by Josephus to have been returned to the Jews of Antioch (Jewish Wars 7.44). When Gentiles in Antioch asked Titus, after the 1st Jewish War, to expel the Jews, he instead restored the rights of the Jews (Jewish Wars 7.100–111). The population of Antioch in the 4th century ce has been estimated around 150,000, with a total of some 400,000 in the territory.31 A conservative guess of the Jewish population at that point might be somewhere above 20,000. This would suggest some 20 to 30 synagogues.32 There appears to be some organization among the synagogues. Jews at Antioch were swept into the turmoil of the 1st Jewish War (66–70 ce). At the outbreak of the war, Josephus says there were massacres of Jews throughout Syria, but that the Jews in Antioch, Sidon, and Apamea were not affected by this.33 In contrast, Josephus cites an event shortly after the arrival of Vespation into Syria. But about this time when the present war began, Vespasian was newly sailed to Syria, and all men had taken up a great hatred against the Jews, then it was that a certain person, whose name was Antiochus, being one of the Jewish nation and great respected on account of his father, who was governor of the Jews at Antioch, came upon the theater at a time when the people of Antioch were assembled together, and became an informer against his father and accused him and others, that they had resolved to burn the whole city in one night; he also delivered up some Jews that were foreigners, as partners in their resolutions. When the people heard this, they could not refrain their passion, but commanded that those who were delivered up to them should have fire brought to burn them; who were accordingly all burned upon the theater immediately. They did also fall violently upon the multitude of the Jews, as supposing that by punishing them suddenly, they should save their own city.34

Josephus then says that Antiochus made a sacrifice in the style of the Greeks and demanded that everyone join him. Those who refused to do so were killed.35 Josephus suggests this danger continued. Four years later, only the intervention of the Roman deputy governor Gnaeus Collega prevented a repeat of the massacre.36 This hostility from the other inhabitants of Antioch seems to have been suppressed by Titus. Josephus says that twice the citizens begged Titus to remove the Jews from their midst. Titus refused, saying 31 See

the discussion in Meeks and Wilken, Jews and Christians in Antioch, pp. 8–9.  See the discuss in Meeks and Wilken, Jews and Christians in Antioch, p. 8. See also Zetterholm, The Formation of Christianity in Antioch, pp. 37–38. 33 Jewish Wars 2.457–479. 34  Jewish Wars 7.46–49. 35  Jewish Wars 7.50–51. 36 Jewish Wars 7.58–61. 32

254

Chapter Eleven: Mapping the Ancient Landscape

How can this be done, since that country of theirs, whither the Jews must be obliged to retire, is destroyed, and no place will receive them besides.37

In answer to a third request to limit the rights of Jews, Titus “permitted the Jews of Antioch to continue to enjoy the very same privileges in that city which they had before.”38 The major impact of the 1st Jewish War is likely found in this smoldering resentment against Jews, but also in the loss of the Temple, the devastation of Palestine, the shift of Jewish life from Jerusalem to other towns and cities, and the imposition of a special tax on Jews to pay for the cost of the revolt.39 Jews in cities like Antioch seem to have endured the 2nd Jewish War in a similar way. The responsibilities and rights of Jews in Antioch seem to grow through the 3rd and 4th century. In the beginning of the 3rd century there is official recognition of the Jewish office of the patriarch, and all free inhabitants of the Roman empire are granted citizenship rights. Meeks and Wilkens note three factors that testify to an increase in status. First, Jews are found serving in a number of official offices such as council members, magistrates, clerks, police officers. Secondly, dedicatory inscriptions testify to the ability of Jews to build for religious, educational, and social purposes. Thirdly, even after Constantine, there seems to be the expectation that Jews are an important component of civic life.40 This pattern is likely representative of the lives of Jews in Antioch in this period. Antioch likely contained at least 20 or 30 synagagogues, and there seems to be a hierarchy of governance. Josephus, writing about the 1st Jewish War, speaks of an ἄρχων (ruler) of the Antiochene Jews,41 and a 4th century letter from a governing official in Antioch speaks of “the ruler of their rulers” (ἀρχόντων παρ’ αὐτοῖς ἄροντα). This likely refers to the traditional position of the Gerousia, who served as the head of the council of elders from the various synagogues. The family tomb of one such Gerousiarch was found in Antioch.42 A series of letters from the city leader Libanius in the 4th century represents the interests of the Jews of Antioch, and in some Libanius writes to the patriarch in Palestine.43 The other body of writing that discusses the role of the Jews in Antioch will come from Christian leaders from the 4th century onward, and it will be largely negative. Jews will be a particular concern for leaders such as Ignatius and Chrysostom.

37 Jewish

Wars 7.109.  Jewish Wars 7.111. 39  See the discussion in Meeks and Wilken, Jews and Christians in Antioch, pp. 5–6. 40 Meeks and Wilkens, Jews and Christians in Antioch, p. 6. 41  Jewish Wars 7.47. 42  See the discussion in Meeks and Wilken, Jews and Christians in Antioch, p. 7 43 The texts are provided and discussed in Meeks and Wilken, Jews and Christians in Antioch. 38

3.0 Conflict and Collaboration: The Local Context of the Gospel of Matthew

255

3.3 Antioch on the Axis of Christian History While Antioch will play a crucial role in the development of Christianity in the 1st century,44 it became better known for its leaders and its role in later centuries. A concern with Judaism pervades Christian documents until the 7th century. It is not always clear, however, when Christian leaders are talking about Jews to a Christian audience and when, or if, they are actually talking with Jews. It is clear, however, that there is an enduring dialectical relationship. Ignatius of Antioch was born in the middle of the 1st century and executed in the first decades of the 2nd century. He is known primarily through his letters to Asian churches, written on an extended journey to his execution in Rome. It is important to ask to what degree the letters address a local situation along this journey and to what degree they reflect a consistent position that Ignatius held in Antioch. While Ignatius describes God’s plan to gather believers from among Jews and Gentiles into one body, he does not advocate a continuing role for Judaism. Ignatius is more concerned for the impact of Judaism within the Christian church. He is apparently concerned for those Gentile Christians who want to adopt various components of Judaism. But if anyone interpret Judaism to you do not listen to him; for it is better to hear Christianity from the circumcised than Judaism from the uncircumcised. But both of them, unless they speak of Jesus Christ, are to me tombstones and sepulchers of the dead … (Philadelpia 6.1)

Ignatius seems to debate those who draw upon Jewish tradition as the basis for interpretation. For I heard some saying, “If I do not find it in the archives (αρχειοις), I do not believe it in the gospel.” And when I said to them, “It is written,” they replied, “That is just the issue.” But for me “the archives” are Jesus Christ; the inviolable archives are his cross and death and his resurrection and the faith which comes through him … (Philadelphia 8.2)

Ignatius appears here to reflect upon an argument over how to interpret scripture, and he contends for interpretation through the experience of the death and resurrection of Jesus. If so, this moment illustrates a central point of debate from the earliest stages of Christianity. Over against a tradition that read legal prescriptions from the text to the application, Christians began to assert a prophetic, christological hermeneutic that read Hebrew prophecy in light of their experience with Jesus. That Ignatius would pose the question in such a way presumes there is, in the recent past, a viable interlocutor – he is most likely answering a question that has been posed. At other places Ignatius seems more concerned to address an audience within the church. This is particularly true in many of his descriptions of Judaism, 44 I

will treat much of this below under the category of Jewish Christianity.

256

Chapter Eleven: Mapping the Ancient Landscape

which are not aimed at debate, but at dismissal. Here again, the reversal of the hermeneutic is implied. It is monstrous to talk of Jesus Christ and to practice Judaism. For Christianity did not base its faith on Judaism, but Judaism on Christianity, and every tongue believing on god was brought together in it. (Magn 10.1)

It is clear, then, that the debate over how to interpret scripture has been elevated into a wholesale invalidation and dismissal of Judaism. Be not led astray by strange doctrines or by old fables which are profitless. For if we are living until now according to Judaism, we confess that we have not received grace. For the divine prophets lived according to Jesus Christ. Therefore they were also persecuted, being inspired by his grace, to convince the disobedient that there is one God, who manifested himself through Jesus Christ his son, who is his Word proceeding from silence, who in all respects was well-pleasing to him that sent him. (Magn 8.1–2)

The irony, of course, is that Jewish models of interpretation typified the Antioch model of Christian interpretation of scripture. It is clear that this model was not simply borrowed, but was worked out in extended dialogue and debate. The initial steps can be seen in the work of Theophilus, who wrote an apology to Autolycus around 180 ce.45 A portion of this apology echoes the strategy employed by Philo to engage the thought world of the Greeks. The most rational and consistent tradition of prophecy and truth is to be found in Moses and the prophets, and whatever truth the Greeks had was learned, but not acknowledged, from Moses. Theophilus also employs allegory, connecting the sun to God, the moon to humans, and the monthly cycles to death and resurrection. Intermediaries to God are found in the form of the Logos and Sophia (wisdom), and these form a trinity with God. When Theophilus speaks of the Hebrew scriptures, he has changed both its scope and its purpose. He distinguishes the ten commandments from ritual demands, and he claims the Hebrew scriptures as the possession of Christians.46 It is clear that Theophilus is working more at the conceptual level in defense of Christianity against Greek and Jewish ideas. He makes no explicit reference to Jesus, but he does explore the etymological connection of two terms: Christian and anointing: and about your laughing at me and calling me Christian, you know not what you are saying. First, because that which is anointed is sweet and serviceable, and far from con45 The work of Ginzburg is developed by R. Grant in “Theophilus of Antioch to Autolycus,” in After the New Testament (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1967). See the discussion in Meeks and Wilken, Jews and Christians in Antioch, pp. 21–22. 46 This is discussed in Meeks and Wilken, Jews and Christians in Antioch, pp. 21–22. An introduction is provided by Henry Wace in A Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature to the End of the Sixth Century A. D., with an Account of the Principal Sects and Heresies (London: John Murray, 1911), pp. 981–82.

3.0 Conflict and Collaboration: The Local Context of the Gospel of Matthew

257

temptible. For what ship can be serviceable and seaworthy, unless it be first anointed? Or what castle or house is beautiful and serviceable when it has not been anointed? And what man, when he enters into this life or into the gymnasium, is not anointed with oil? And what work has either ornament or beauty unless it be anointed and burnished? Then the air and all that is under heaven is in a certain sort anointed by light and spirit; and are you unwilling to be anointed with the oil of God? Wherefore we are called Christians on this account, because we are anointed with the oil of God. (Apologia ad Autolycum 1.12)

Paul of Samosata likely represents a further stage in this debate.47 Two historical points are in place: Paul was bishop of Antioch from 261 ce until he was formally deposed in 268 or 269 ce, and John Chrysostom declared him to be “a Jew wearing a Christian mask.”48 Scholars have sought to find evidence for this characterization, but it is difficult to certify any direct engagement with Judaism. It may be that this assessment is rooted in a christological debate with other Christians, and orthodox writers often dismiss what they perceive as low Christology with the invective that it is Jewish. Once again, it is not clear whether the debate is with Judaism or about Judaism. It remains important, however, for these writers to account for Jewish ways of thinking and acting as they define Christian orthodoxy. The classic engagement and dismissal of Judaism at Antioch is found in the sermons of John Chrysostom. Chrysostom’s preaching belongs to a longer and wider concern about the relationship of Easter and Passover. The long campaign of the Church to separate Easter from Passover appears to succeed at the Council of Nicea in 325 ce. As Marcel Simon notes: The council of Nicea pronounced upon the question of the date of Easter, and the imperial authority sanctioned its decisions. It was henceforth forbidden to celebrate Easter, even with specifically Christian rituals, at the same time as the Jewish Passover. And the practice laid down by the Didascalia thus became heretical.49

Still the practice of determining Easter by Passover continued. A work entitled the Diataxis influences the later sect of the Audians. In this text they read: “Observe when your brethren of the circumcision do so. Observe it together with them.”50 Geography may play a key role in such debates. Aphraates is a contemporary of Chrysostom who works in Mesopotamia. Living in permanent contact with strong Jewish communities, Aphraates’ church exhibits a distinct paschal practice by beginning Holy Week on the day of the crucifixion. Holy Week, in 47 This

is discussed in Meeks and Wilkens, Jews and Christians in Antioch, pp. 23–24.  Exp. in Ps. 109.2. 49  Marcel Simon, Verus Israel: A study of the relations between Christians and Jews in the Roman Empire (135–425) (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986; 1st French edition, 1960), p. 316. 50  The Diataxis is cited in the work of Epiphanius. See Haer. 70.10, cited in Simon, Verus Israel, p. 316. 48

258

Chapter Eleven: Mapping the Ancient Landscape

this tradition, runs from 15 to 21 Nisan, corresponding to the Jewish feast of Unleavened Bread.51 The Easter/Passover controversy is not limited to sectarian elements or to isolated churches. It makes its strongest appearance in the churches led by Chrysostom. Preaching in Antioch in the last years of the 4th century, Chryso­ stom thunders against the members of his congregation who persist in Jewish practices: many even of those who are reckoned to belong to us and who say they think as we do, go along, some for the sake of the spectacle and others even to take part in the celebration and associate themselves with the fast. It is of this pernicious practice that I intend now to rid the Church.52

Like Origen before him, Chrysostom highlights the participation of women.53 It is significant to note that this participation is not limited to one event. Simon observes that “The occasion for the preaching of the homilies is that of the great autumn festivals of the Jews, Tabernacles, New Year, and Yom Kippur.”54 Likewise, participation is not limited to a few people. Chrysostom sounds embarrassed by the scale of involvement: “And even if there are many who are observing the fast, you should not let it be known nor advertise the difficult situation of the church, but let us heal it.”55 Neither is the participation limited to worship events; members of Chrysostom’s congregation also seek healing at the synagogue and take solemn oaths there.56 It is clear that the Antioch debate in the book of Acts did not settle nor end the dialectical engagement between followers of Jesus and other Jews. This issue would emerge in various ways through the next centuries, and it would not be settled by Constantine and the council of Nicea (325 ce). Indeed, the engagement at Antioch with Jews and with Jewish ideas will only end in the 7th century when Jews are expelled from the city. Not all debates about Judaism are with and before a Jewish audience. It is clear on many occasions that leaders like Ignatius and Chrysostom are addressing members of their own church about Judaism and its conceptual world. Much of the evidence demonstrates appropriation and use of Jewish interpretive tradi See the discussion by Simon, Verus Israel, pp. 318–20.  Hom. 1.1. The passages from Chrysostom are discussed in Simon, Verus Israel, p. 326. For the texts, see Discourses Against Judaizing Christians, trans. Paul Harkins, vol. 68 of The Fathers of the Church (Washington: Catholic University of America, 1977). 53  Hom. 2.3; 4.7. 54 Simon, Verus Israel, p. 326. 55  Hom. 8.4. The translation is mine. 56  Hom. 1.6; Hom. 1.3. Chrysostom issues extensive warnings against the healing of the rabbis. See the discussion in Simon, Verus Israel, pp. 327, 355–58. See also the introduction to Chrysostom’s work by Paul Harkins in Discourses Against Judaizing Christians, especially pp. xxxi–l. Christians may seek healing at the synagogue of Daphne and at the shrine of the Maccabean martyrs. 51 52

3.0 Conflict and Collaboration: The Local Context of the Gospel of Matthew

259

tions. These too can be practiced in the absence of any Jewish interlocutors. On other occasions, there appears to be a genuine dialogue and debate. In the larger view, critical analysis must ask whether Christians at Antioch were concerned through seven centuries with a constructed and imagined opponent of straw. That is, in fact, possible. It does not, however, carry a strong level of plausibility. That these pronouncements by Christians were also a part of a two-way conversation may be reflected in the case known from around 200 ce in which a Christian converts to Judaism. The conversion evoked a letter from Serapion the bishop to the convert, whose name was Domnus.57 Josephus had noted a similar tendency in Antioch toward the end of the 1st century. Moreover, they were constantly attracting to their religious ceremonies multitudes of Greeks, and these they had in some measure incorporated with themselves. (Jewish Wars 7.45)

It is more probable that Jews and Christians quoted and misquoted each other in an extensive debate and dialogue because each was in the process of defining their place in a shifting landscape. Furthermore, I will suggest that this process reflects the existence of vital forms of Jewish Christianity. 3.4 Antioch on the Axis of Jewish Christian History After Jerusalem, Antioch was the second major center for Jewish Christianity. Because the book of Acts says that followers of Jesus were first called by the Greek term Christians at Antioch, this community is often understood to be dominated by Gentiles. Several factors, however, speak against this. First, the use of the term Christians probably says more about the context than the community: followers of Jesus are described by Greek-speaking outsiders in this terminology. Secondly, Acts does not portray a community at Antioch dominated by Gentile followers of Jesus. The first conversions at Antioch occur when the Jerusalem community flees after the death of Stephen (Acts 11.19). In Antioch, these Jewish exiles “spoke the word to no one except Jews” (Acts 11.19). Acts then notes that some of the Jerusalem community who came from Cyprus and Cyrene spoke also to “the Hellenists” (Acts 11.20), a term used previously to refer to Greek-speaking Jews. Among these Hellenists is Nicolaus of Antioch, a proselyte – that is, a convert to Judaism (Acts 6.1–6). The actual mission to the Gentiles begins in the midst of Paul’s first missionary journey (Acts 13.46–49). Only in Acts 14.24–28 is the report brought to Antioch that God “had opened a door of faith for the Gentiles.” The issue of how to receive Gentiles into the fellowship arises shortly after this (Acts 15.1–5). 57  The letter is noted by Eusebius, HE 6.2.1. See the discussion in Meeks and Wilkens, Jews and Christians in Antioch, p. 22.

260

Chapter Eleven: Mapping the Ancient Landscape

The book of Acts thus presents Antioch as a center for Jewish Christianity. The primary distinction between Antioch and the Jerusalem community is the larger number of Hellenistic Jews who have become Christians and the suitability of Antioch as a base for a mission to the Gentiles. The decision about how to receive Gentiles is, in fact, said to have been made in Jerusalem (Acts 15.6–29). In Acts, Antioch is the location of a strong Jewish Christian community that is linked to both Palestine and Syria and that provides an effective witness in a Hellenistic context. While Acts shows Antioch as a gathering of Jewish Christians from the first generations, other documents suggest this profile endured through subsequent eras. The Gospel of Matthew is probably Syrian in origin, and it is usually discussed in the context of Antioch. The evidence of a Jewish Christian cluster is enhanced by the message of the Didache, which likely originates in Syria and shares some material in common with the Gospel of Matthew. In the Didache, instructions are given for dealing with itinerant prophets, and some of these prophets appear to have settled in the community. These may be the tradents of the Sayings Tradition. Thus, Antioch and the surrounding region appear to host a diverse cluster of Jewish Christianity in the period between the Jewish Wars. Jewish Christianity also appears to cluster around Antioch in the later centuries. Jerome says that he knows of Nazarenes from the Syrian city of Beroea (de vir. ill 2). He claims they use a Hebrew version of the Gospel of Matthew and that their version quotes from the Hebrew Bible rather than the Septuagint (de vir. ill 3). Jerome says they have a different version of the book of Jeremiah, and he quotes from their commentary on Isaiah. Writing to Augustine around 404 ce, Jerome’s description of this group is rather sympathetic: they believe in Christ, the Son of God born of Mary the virgin, and they say about him that he suffered and rose again under Pontius Pilate, in whom we also believe, but since they want to be both Jews and Christians, they are neither Jews nor Christians. (ep. 112.13)

Epiphanius, writing in 374 ce, locates Nazarenes at various places, including Syria: This heresy of the Nazoreans exists in Beroea in the neighborhood of Coele Syria and the Decapolis in the region of Pella and in Basanitis in the so-called Kokaba, Chochabe in Hebrew. (Pan. 29.7.7)

Epiphanius also refers to their literary tradition: They have the entire Gospel of Matthew in Hebrew. It is carefully preserved by them in Hebrew letters, as I wrote in the beginning. But I do not know whether they also have omitted the genealogies from Abraham to Christ. (Pan. 29.9.4)

This evidence for Jewish Christianity in and around Syrian Antioch suggests a degree of connection and continuity. Acts presents Antioch as a vital center of Jewish Christianity in the period between the death of Jesus and the mid 60s ce.

4.0 Conclusion

261

The Gospel of Matthew, likely written in the 80s or 90s, engages Jewish Christian tradents and their traditions in its debate with the local synagogues. Early in the 2nd century, Ignatius is using the Gospel of Matthew at Antioch, and he warns against the dangers of “Judaizing”. In the mid 3rd century, Syrian followers of Jesus who speak Aramaic are known in Persia as Nazarenes. In the late 4th century, Jerome and Epiphanius know of Jewish Christians from Syria who practice a Hebraic tradition of scriptural interpretion, including a Hebrew version of the Gospel of Matthew. Consquently, Antioch and its surrounding areas provide a primary location for Jewish Christianity on the religious map of antiquity. Jewish Christianity can be traced along various trajectories leading from Antioch into the wider world. The book of Acts presents the Antioch community as the base for a number of itinerant missions. Barnabbas and Saul are sent to preach in the synagogues of Seleucia, Cyprus, Pamphilia, Iconium, and other locations (Acts 13.1–5). Judas and Silas are sent from Antioch back to their own communities (Acts 15.32–35). Paul and Silas go from Antioch on a tour of Syria and Cilicia, while Barnabbas and John Mark go to Cyprus (Acts 15.36–41). Paul’s third missionary journey begins from Antioch (Acts 18.22–23). All of these missions are directed first to the synagogues. The turn to the Gentiles is shown in Acts as a development that is caused by rejection and exasperation (Acts 13.46–47; 18.6; 28.25–28). While the composition of the Gospel of Matthew likely reveals a Jewish Christian cluster at Antioch, its transmission may be understood as a trajectory from Antioch into the wider world. When the Persians conquer Antioch and Aleppo (Syrian Beroea) in the period from 255–260 ce, they deport large numbers to various cities in Persia. These deportees maintain among themselves a distinction that was already present in Syria: Greek-speaking followers of Jesus are called Christians, while followers of Jesus who speak Aramaic are called Nazarenes. While this may be only a linguistic distinction, it does cohere with patristic information.58

4.0 Conclusion This chapter asks how the Gospel of Matthew fits into the historical landscape of antiquity. This question is not solely about time and place; it is also about the dynamics of how a people choose to identify themselves and how they seek to claim a place amidst a chaotic landscape. One line of analysis is to ask how they pursue these quests in relation to traditions, historical realities, and the claims of other groups. The map of antiquity was surveyed through the lens of the various dialectical relationships through which groups develop, evolve, and endure. We looked at 58 Broadhead,

Jewish Ways of Following Jesus, pp. 181–84.

262

Chapter Eleven: Mapping the Ancient Landscape

how the ancient map was defined through conflict and collaboration at three different levels: the Mediterranean world, the region of Palestine, and the city of Antioch. We turn in the next chapter to ask how the Gospel of Matthew fits onto this dynamic landscape with its various lines of dialectical engagement. We will consider both the composition of the Gospel of Matthew in such a historical setting and its transmission into the wider world along two distinct trajectories. Particular focus will be given to the place of the Gospel of Matthew in the formative era of what would become two distinct religious traditions.

Chapter Twelve

The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity Chapter Six explored the way in which sources, traditions, and tradents participate in the Tradition History of a text like the Gospel of Matthew. Chapter Seven then explored the composition history for this gospel. The following chapters looked at the way in which the Gospel of Matthew presents its story in the context of conflict and contradiction, at the transmission history, and at the historical stage upon which the Gospel of Matthew emerged. In this chapter we turn again to the issues of composition and transmission history in order to ask how the Gospel of Matthew fits into the historical context of the first centuries.

1.0 The Gospel of Matthew as a Living Tradition The Gospel of Matthew has appropriated a wide variety of source materials. These materials are themselves traditions with their own voices and their own views of reality. The authority of tradents is present with many of these traditions. Chapter Seven showed that the Gospel of Matthew is constituted around competing traditions, and the confluence of these traditions does not silence their voices. This gathering of tradents and traditions is not simply a genealogical or a collective process; it holds extraordinary generative potential, and it is a key component of the identity and function of this gospel. I will now argue that most, if not all, of these voices are Jewish and that the Gospel of Matthew operates in the midst of the many dialectical engagements that transect the landscape of antiquity. My thesis is this: as a Living Tradition that incorporates competing voices of Jewish tradition, the Gospel of Matthew, both in its composition and in its transmission, plays a central role in the four centuries that mark the forming of the ways of what would become Judaism and Christianity. Scholarship has long argued that Gospel of Matthew stands at the crossroad of competing religious traditions. I will argue that it not only stands at the crossroad, but it already contains within it the competing voices of Jewish tradition and that the Gospel of Matthew, more than any other text, shaped the paths that lead from that crossroad.

264

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

2.0 Competing Jewish Voices in the Gospel of Matthew The Gospel of Matthew incorporates competing voices of Jewish tradition. Such traditions carry with them the authority, and sometimes the presence, of tradents. The engagement with such traditions, tradents, and authority impacts the shape and the tenor of the Gospel of Matthew. Attempts to ameliorate this conflict through appeals to authorial intent or literary coherence are not only unconvincing; they run counter to the nature and design of this gospel. Indeed, the Gospel of Matthew sponsors this debate, and I will argue that it does so because in order to reflect and to engage the reality on the ground. I worked hard to move beyond the projection of a mythical Matthew who is in control of each component of the text and its production. I do not wish to now replace that image with a mythical community who do the work for Matthew. A great deal of New Testament scholarship has explored “Matthew’s community” in terms of its context, composition, and Matthew’s relationship to it. Typically, literary features of the text are read as signs that are transparent for what Matthew wants to say to his community. Usually this is seen as a one-way address. In this view, Matthew observes the needs of his community and addresses them through his editing of the story of Jesus. This line of analysis is relatively shallow, yet it is also typically broad: from the text is imagined a simplistic confrontation between the monolithic entities of “Israel” and “the Church”. While I think the community myth is more plausible than the myth of Matthew, I wish to challenge as well the predominant scholarly accounts of Matthew’s church or community. First, it is not plausible to envision a building that would house more than about thirty people. At the time of writing, there is no cathedral or church in the sense of a place of worship. The closest one could come to such a context would be if the believers behind this gospel are still meeting in a local synagogue, but this would almost presume they have taken over the building. It is more plausible that the Matthean community is a collection of scattered house churches with, perhaps, some loose form of organization or commonality. The scholarly picture is also problematized by the role of the synagogue. If some followers of Jesus are still attending synagogue, how do they fit under the authority of the synagogue system.1 The lines of dialectical engagement likely flow across a variety of house churches, but also between individuals and synagogues. It is plausible that different house churches have different leadership, different textual traditions, different levels of engagement with the synagogue, and different lines of authority.2 Recent descriptions of the Matthean community 1  In Antioch there develops a system of synagogues whose leaders compose a council under the authority of a Gerousiarch. 2 This seems to be the case in Paul’s ministry.

2.0 Competing Jewish Voices in the Gospel of Matthew

265

tend to ignore these complexities. At this period, neither church nor synagogue is a clearly defined, exclusive institution. Synagogues of this period are more akin to community halls, and only later do they become primarily places of Jewish prayer. The Matthean community almost certainly lives in such a variegated context of Jewishness. I am arguing that the Gospel of Matthew represents an effort to respect and engage these various seats of tradition, but also to reshape at least some of these traditions into a strategic new narrative. I am thus arguing for a dialectical relationship between the competing traditions within the Gospel of Matthew and the variegated context of the time and place of composition. 2.1 A Markan Voice in a Matthean World The Gospel of Mark reflects a lengthy process of composition that involved cycles of performance and restatement of traditional material. Moreover, the Gospel of Mark is itself a negotiated tradition.3 The oral materials that focused on the sayings of Jesus and the charismatic presence of the risen Christ in those sayings has been relativized in the Gospel of Mark.4 This is done in a number of ways. First, the story of Jesus is told in a written narrative that plots Jesus’ life from his baptism to his death. In doing so, the spontaneity of the tradition is tied to a historical sequence, and the impending death of Jesus provides the controlling hermeneutic through which to interpet his life, but also his call to discipleship. Secondly, the Sayings Tradition has been largely avoided.5 Thirdly, the eschatological focus on the Son of Man who returns in judgment and glory has been tied to the suffering Son of Man who dies in Jerusalem. I have argued that this creates a reciprocal relationship between glory and suffering that is realized for the first time in the Gospel of Mark. While scholars once assigned the Gospel of Mark to a Gentile writer and world, this position is difficult to sustain. Although there is a distinct challenge to cultic purity, nonetheless the story of Jesus, and the passion narrative in particular, is told against the echoes of the scriptures and the story of Israel. I would argue that the Gospel of Mark represents a radicalized expression of messianic ideas with a prophetic, eschatological worldview addressing a time of crisis, but still within the framework of Judaism. The Gospel of Matthew thus takes up a tradition that has already undergone negotiation and reconceptualization. While the Gospel of Mark provides the general structure and some 56 % of the content for the Gospel of Matthew, a pro Broadhead, Prophet, Son, Messiah.  This idea is developed in detail by Werner Kelber, The Oral and the Written Gospel. 5 Some of the triple traditions and some sayings found only in the Gospel of Mark may come from the Sayings Tradition (Q). See my analysis in “The Extent of the Sayings Tradition (Q)” in The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus, ed. Andreas Lindemann (Leuven: Peeter’s Press, 2001), pp. 719–28 . 3 4

266

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

cess of relativization is underway. In addition to a new beginning and ending, five major speeches have been inserted. The opening section of the Gospel of Mark has been strategically rearranged to accommodate these changes. In addition to such structural moves, the Markan image of discipleship has been customized by making them more faithful to the Law and more responsive to Jesus, but also by gathering the concept of discipleship specifically around the idealized image of Peter. In terms of Christology, the Gospel of Matthew has imposed upon the narrative the voice of the prophets and has illustrated Jesus’ teaching on the Kingdom through his sayings. Moreover, the Gospel of Matthew has opened up a future for the church and has placed it under the leadership of Peter. The preaching of the gospel to the nations is no longer simply an eschatological sign; it has become in the Gospel of Matthew the primary focus of discipleship and ecclesiology. Nonetheless, the Markan voice can still be heard in the miracles stories, in the struggles of the disciples, in the eschatogical discourse, and in the framing of the passion story. The Gospel of Matthew tends to avoid Markan statements that seem to diminish the role of the Law,6 but not scenes and actions that show Jesus realigning the traditions of Israel. As a consequence the voice of this particular form of Judaism is heard, in revised form, within the world of the Gospel of Matthew. One has to ask, then, why the Gospel of Mark is not simply adopted en toto. The fact of the revision suggests that alongside a deep respect for the Gospel of Mark is some level of dissatisfaction and discomfort. Also important, however, is the degree of revision. If the point is simply to create a mission to the Gentiles, then addition of a new beginning and ending would have accomplished this. Why then does the Gospel of Matthew rely so heavily on traditions that it will change? Why does the Gospel of Matthew allow the Markan voice to compete with its own concepts and strategies? It is clear that the Gospel of Mark has authority and cannot simply be dismissed or dealt with in arbitrary ways. It is plausible that the Gospel of Mark comes into this context not only as a written Greek text, but that it does so through tradents who sponsor, practice, and defend this tradition as “the Gospel of Jesus Christ” (Mk 1.1). Even if the patrons are not present with the text, their authority is.7 This goes a long way toward explaining the degree and the consistency with which the Gospel of Matthew appropriates this tradition. The Gospel of Matthew is essentially a revised edition of the Gospel of Mark, and this demonstrates the gravitas and authority inherent in this tradition. 6  Indeed, some now speak of “Matthew’s Judaization of Mark.” See A. M. O’Leary, Matthew’s Judaization of Mark. Examined in the Context of the Use of Sources in Graeco-Roman Antiquity (London: Eisenbrauns, 2006). 7  This assignment of the Gospel to Mark and the report of his association with Peter develops this sense of authority.

2.0 Competing Jewish Voices in the Gospel of Matthew

267

I would argue that the Gospel of Mark cannot be arbitrarily edited because it is not simply a source document pulled from the shelf. It is plausible that the Gospel of Mark has come from the Galilee in the hands of tradents who are foundational to the community in which the Gospel of Matthew is composed. This foundational, authoritative voice is also foundational for the Gospel of Matthew, but it is now corrected and relativized. More significantly, the Markan voice is placed alongside other traditions and other voices with equal or greater claim. 2.2 The Voice of the Sayings Prophets in a Matthean World Some 22 % of the Gospel of Matthew is drawn from a collection of the sayings of John the Baptist and Jesus. This collection, written in Greek, is a tradition with its own theology, and it appears to be carried by wandering prophets, even in the later period of the Didache. This tradition has a positive view of John the Baptist, who casts a prophetic aura over the material and initiates the focus on judgment and the coming crisis. This eschatological message is then developed around the image of Jesus as the Son of Man. A number of Jewish images are drawn into the characterization of Jesus. He is the envoy who brings the message of Wisdom, and he is the rejected prophet described by Isaiah. As the Son of Man he suffers violence and rejection at the hands of “this generation,” but he will come with judgment in the near future. This image of the rejected prophet of the endtime also shapes demands of discipleship in the Sayings Tradition. Disciples are to travel light on their final journey through Israel to announce the impending judgment. To hear or reject their message is to hear or reject Jesus and the one who sent him. The Sayings Tradition holds a conservative approach to the Law. When Jesus does violate tradition, he invokes a Jewish debate to do so. The eschatological focus provides the basis for a type of ethical exhortation aimed at the present age. The harshest polemic is directed against a Jewish audience from “this generation,” which is presented less favorably than the Gentiles. A Deuteronomistic pattern is employed: the rejection of the message of Jesus is shown to be a type of violence that continues the rejection of the Hebrew prophets and the rejection of Wisdom by “this generation.” There is a strong awareness of Pharisees as opponents in the Sayings Tradition. Jesus’ polemic against the Pharisees does not question the validity of their rules; indeed it affirms the need for purity and tithing. The woes pronounced against Pharisees suggest they have missed the heart of what it means to keep the Law. If anything, they are not Jewish enough. The primary condemnation, however, is for their failure to hear Jesus and his messengers. The Jewish nature of the Sayings Tradition is also unveiled in what it does not say. There is no mention of incarnation or of a divine status for Jesus and nothing

268

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

of heavenly origins. Moreover, there is no critique of the Law and no statement against the Temple. Thus, one of the harshest levels of critique against Jews comes from a thoroughly Jewish tradition. This polemic is specific and punctual: it is aimed precisely at a group of Pharisees of this generation who have heard and rejected the final envoy from God, and the final verdict is now being handed down. The Gospel of Matthew has borrowed a significant portion of its content from the Jewish prophetic tradition of the Sayings. Beyond the issue of content, this material provides the voice of Jesus through much of the Gospel of Matthew. This is especially seen in the five major speeches inserted into the story line. While the Gospel of Mark provides the call to the Kingdom and the image of Jesus as one who teaches with authority, the content of that teaching and the standards of that Kingdom are drawn mostly from the Sayings Tradition. But the imminent eschatology and the narrow ecclesiology of the Sayings Tradition is deconstructed in the Gospel of Matthew. The time line is extended and the audience is widened in order to accommodate the key focus on the mission to the nations. Thus, the narrow and rigid expectations of the Sayings Tradition stand in conflict with the universal focus of this gospel and its extended vision of the church. Why does the Gospel of Matthew sponsor such lines of conflict? I would argue that the Sayings Tradition is not simply a source that can be edited at will; it is a living tradition whose tradents are present in the community. Indeed, this may be the foundational group behind this gospel.8 The Didache knows of traveling prophets who are both to be respected, but also treated with caution. But concerning the apostles and prophets, do according to the ordinance of the Gospel. Let every apostle, when he comes to you, be received as the Lord; But he shall not abide more than a single day, or if there be need, a little more. But if he abide three days, he is a false prophet. And when he departs, let the apostle receive nothing except bread, until he finds shelter; But if he asks for money, he is a false prophet. (Did 11.4–9)

The respect for the prophets is mixed with caution, but they are welcome, under certain conditions, to continue in the community. But let every one who comes in the name of the Lord be received; And then when you have tested him you shall know him, for you shall have understanding on the right hand and on the left. If the visitor is a traveler, assist him, so far as you are able; But he shall not stay with you more than two or three days, if it be necessary. But if being a craftsman, he wishes to settle up with you, let him work for and eat his bread. But if he has no craft, according to your wisdom provide how he shall live as a Christian among you, but not in idleness. If he will not do this, he is trafficking upon Christ. Beware of such men. (Did 12.1–8)

The final word is one of respect for their authority and ministry. 8 That

is the position of Ulrich Luz. See Matthew 1–7, pp. 78, 82–84.

2.0 Competing Jewish Voices in the Gospel of Matthew

269

But every true prophet desiring to settle among you is worthy of his food. In like manner a true teacher is also worthy, like the workman, of his food. Every first-fruit then of the produce of the wine-vat and of the threshing-floor, of your oxen and of your sheep, you shall take and give as the first-fruit to the prophets; For they are your chief-priests. (Did 13.1–4)

Evidence for the status of these itinerant prophetic figures is found in the request that bishops and deacons be treated with the same respect given to the prophets and teachers. Appoint bishops for yourselves, as well as deacons, worthy of the Lord, of meek disposition, unattached to money, truthful and proven; for they also render to you the service of prophets and teachers. Do not despise them, after all, for they are your honored ones, together with the prophets and teachers. (Did 15.1–2)

This is likely an echo of the situation at work in the community behind the Gospel of Matthew. For tradents of the Sayings Traditon, these are the words of Jesus. Indeed, some of the tradents may claim to have been present when Jesus said these things, or some may claim to have learned the Sayings from witnesses. Traditions have authority, and tradents can enhance and enforce that authority. No editor is free, in the presence of such tradents, to change the tradition at will. This is particular true of ancient authorities who claim to convey the words of Jesus. They are not, as the Didache notes, beyond challenge. But to do so, other techniques, more subtle and collaborative, must be employed. 2.3 The Voice of Scripture in a Matthean World A third Jewish voice is heard when the Gospel of Matthew imports the voice of scripture into the story of Jesus. Davies and Allison offer the following analysis of Old Testament citations and allusions in the Gospel of Matthew.9 17 39 21   4 19 21 50

citations shared by the Gospel of Matthew (Mt) and the Gospel of Mark (Mk) possible allusions common to Mt and Mk number of the 39 Mt/Mk allusions also used by the Gospel of Luke (Lk) citations shared by Mt and Lk, thus from Sayings Tradtion (Q) allusions shared by Mt and Lk, thus from Sayings Tradition (Q) citations peculiar to the Gospel of Matthew allusions peculiar to the Gospel of Matthew

The most plausible explanation for this extensive use of scripture is the use of collected traditions over a period of time within Jewish circles of interpretation. The Gospel of Matthew takes these scriptures from different sources and applies them in a wide variety of ways to frame the story of Jesus. This technique generates a variety of connections and characterizations. The birth of Jesus now echoes with the scriptures of Israel. For those who questioned whether prophecy had ceased, the Gospel of Matthew insists that it has not and that it continues 9 Davies

and Allison, Matthew, vol. 1, pp. 29–57.

270

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

precisely in the story of Jesus. For the Gospel of Matthew, the voice of Hebrew scripture provides the primary means of narration and commentary. This narrative voice invokes the scorn of the Hebrew prophets. The failure to hear Jesus is met with a rebuke from Isaiah (Mt 13.14–15, citing Isa 6.9). The Pharisees are called hypocrites in prophetic language (Mt 15.8–9, citing Isa 29.13 from the Septuagint). Through these various citations, the voices of the ancient prophets echo with authority across the narrative world of the Gospel of Matthew. There are multiple layers to the generative power behind these citations. To cite Isaiah is not simply to cite the personal authority of a singular figure; it is also to invoke the whole of “the prophets” and, in some sense, to invoke the whole of scripture. This effect is multiplied in the Gospel of Matthew when these prophetic words and tones are placed on the lips of Jesus. In this way the voice of Jesus has been projected as a new moment in Israel’s history with God. But this prophetic voice is set in conflict with another voice in the story. As noted earlier, the most dramatic use of scripture is found in the twofold reference (Mt 9.13 and 12.7) to Hosea 6.6: “Mercy I desire, and not sacrifice.” No other New Testament passage cites this verse.10 In both Mt 9.13 and 12.7 the Hosea passage is used as commentary on a conflict with a group of Pharisees. The passage from Hosea 6.6 is already wrapped in conflict before it is cited in the Gospel of Matthew; it stands in direct contradiction to the Mosaic code established in the Pentateuch. The God who demanded sacrifice in the Pentateuch now rejects it in the prophets (Hos 6.6; Mic 6.6–8; Amos 5.21–24; see also Ps 40.6–8). This contradiction of scripture against scripture will be played out in other arenas,11 but here the Gospel of Matthew employs it, on the lips of Jesus, in a controversy with those who guard and guide the legislation about sacrifice.12 This conflict is appropriated from Hebrew scripture, and it is wholly Jewish. Why then does the Gospel of Matthew import and host such tensions? In doing so, the Gospel of Matthew takes sides in a longstanding Jewish debate. The Gospel of Matthew has embraced the Markan claim that purity is not a matter of eating, but of the heart. The image of Jesus in the line of the rejected prophets is embraced from the Sayings Tradition. The citations frame the ministry of Jesus in a prophetic cloak, and the Hosea citation values mercy over sacrifice. The Gospel of Matthew thus poses one line of Jewish tradition (prophetic) over against another Jewish voice (cultic, legal). The Pharisees cannot be dismissed  It is difficult to know if the use of these verses are redactional or reflects a source. strands of Jewish Christianity believed that sacrifice was not demanded. See Broadhead, Jewish Ways of Following Jesus. 12  Thus, a conflict from the Hebrew Bible is embedded within a gospel text, and we should ask whether this debate is really about a later context. Most scholars do not believe Jesus had ongoing controversy with Pharisees, since they seem to play a limited role in the 2nd Temple period. Many scholars see here a conflict with Pharisees and followers of Jesus in the context of the Gospel of Matthew. 10

11 Various

2.0 Competing Jewish Voices in the Gospel of Matthew

271

because they sit on the seat of Moses, but in the Gospel of Matthew they can be outvoted and outshouted. Scholarship likes to think of Matthew sitting at his desk with a Septuagint and some Hebrew scrolls before him, drawing from the scriptures to bolster his story of Jesus. This image is too simplistic, too anachronistic, and too psychologized. More importantly, it hides the dynamics through which early followers of Jesus searched the scriptures to interpret, to debate, and to articulate their experience with Jesus. A more plausible scenario is a group of scribes working over time to gather citations in support of their understanding of Jesus. This may be suggested by the reference to “scribes who have been made disciples of the Kingdom” who “draw out of their storehouse things new and old.” (Mt 13.52). These are more than proof texts, however; they have a generative function. They are a part of the formation and the articulation of the place of Jesus in the story of Israel. It is difficult to envision this collection apart from extended time and collective effort, likely resulting in a written collection of scripture. This is a thoroughly Jewish process intent on interpreting Jesus, the Jewish Messiah, in the light of Hebrew scripture. The authority of this Jewish interpretive tradition exists in multiple layers: they are Jewish scribes, they are citing the prophets and thus invoking the mantle of scripture, and these words are voiced through Jesus the Messiah. Although its deterministic tenor runs against the grain of much of this gospel, this tradition is foundational; it likely emerges from within the compositional community. Within the Gospel of Matthew, however, scriptures will stand in contradiction to scripture (Hos 6.6), and Jesus’ teaching will stand in antithetical relationship to key elements of Torah.13 It may be that in the Gospel of Matthew Jesus’ words from the Hebrew prophets provide a type of corrective and counterbalance to the claims of the prophets of the Sayings Traditions. While the Sayings prophets draw upon an oral, remembered tradition of itinerant prophets, the scripture collection is scribal in nature and suggests a plausible connection to the synagogue and its storehouse of scrolls. This authoritative, conflicted voice of collected scripture will be heard in dialogue with other Jewish interpretive traditions. In the Gospel of Matthew this testimony will stand alongside the Sayings, but also alongside other Jewish voices, some of which are more local and more caustic. 2.4 A Caustic Local Voice Analysis of the Special Traditions (M) showed they were the most Jewish of traditions. They are also the most caustic traditions in the Gospel of Matthew, and they are the most conflicted. 13  A similar approach to collection and interpretation of scripture – and a similar embrace of polyphony – was practiced at Qumran, and it will emerge again in rabbinic texts.

272

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

The extended unit of special material in Matthew 23 contains three levels of discourse. The first level voices absolute respect for the Law, for the seat of Moses, and for the requirements for obedience (Mt 23.1–2). The second level distinguishes the authority of the Law from the practices of scribes and Pharisees (Mt 23.3). The third level contains an extended sequence of woes pronounced against the Pharisees. This is the most vindictive language in the New Testament, and it is aimed precisely at those who sit on the seat of Moses. Matthew 23 evokes a series of other contradictions. Among these are Mosaic Law versus prophetic demand; principle versus application; command versus practice; Jesus versus the scribes/Pharisees; temple versus synagogue; synagogue versus the street; Rabbi versus Teacher; father versus Father; Instructor versus Messiah; the throne of Moses versus the throne of God. The conflict between Jesus and scribes/Pharisees has thus been staged in the Gospel of Matthew through a vibrant contrast that engages various layers of tradition. The scene of Jesus’ conflict with the religious leaders in Matthew 23 does not speak with one narrative voice; it echoes with a complex of layered, intermingling, competing voices. This is not simply a collection of sources, and its conflicts cannot be erased by projections of narrative coherence or theological design. This contradiction, engrained within one of the sources for the Gospel of Matthew, has been appropriated – without resolution – into the rhetorical world of this gospel. There it has been placed alongside other Jewish voices. Why would the Gospel of Matthew retain this conflict and vitriole, especially if it envisions no future role for the Pharisees? I would argue that the special material identified as M is a local tradition that is foundational and authoritative for some portion of the community. It is likely that most, if not all, of the community in the orbit of this Gospel once worshiped in one or more of the local synagogues, and there are likely divided opinions about the future of that relationship. It is possible there are two different opinions about participation in the synagogues, but this could also represent two stages of engagement. Whether the divide is primarily demographic or temporal or some combination of both, the conflict is endemic and unresolved. No projection of narrative coherence or theological design can unravel this knot. I would argue that this convoluted tradition is reported within the Gospel of Matthew because it is a living reality within the world of the gospel; it appears to be local and foundational. This is a vital, vitriolic, unresolved tradition, and each of its components and all of its dimensions are thoroughly Jewish. In this choir, the tenors are not in tune with the other parts, largely because they are not in tune with each other. In the Gospel of Matthew, this self-contradictory tradition is retained, and it is placed alongside other voices.

2.0 Competing Jewish Voices in the Gospel of Matthew

273

2.5 The Voice of Peter I would also argue there are those within the orbit of the Gospel of Matthew who see themselves as patrons for the legacy of Peter. The Markan image of Peter as a failed disciple is revised in the Gospel of Matthew to show the conflicting sides of discipleship. Peter is the first called, and he becomes the spokesperson for the disciples. He is the voice who first confesses that Jesus is the messiah and the Son of God. His role in the transfiguration scene likely foreshadows his role in the resurrection era. Most importantly, Peter is the representative. He represents the struggles of discipleship, he represents the truth about Jesus, and he is positioned to become the representative of the Kingdom and the church. The authority of this Petrine tradition is evident within the Gospel of Matthew, but also at various other places within early Christianity.14 While this tradition likely has a history within the community, I would argue that it has been shaped to create a new paradigm rooted in the story of Jesus. For the Gospel of Matthew, the blueprint for the future is framed around a Jewish follower of Jesus. 2.6 A Voice from the Margins Scholars debate whether the birth narrative and the commissioning scene are traditional material or editorial creations. It is almost certain that some blocks of tradition are present, particularly in the birth narrative. The genealogy, the story of Herod and the Magi, and the sojourn in Egypt may all be traditional, but they have been subjected to a great deal of editing. The final commissioning echoes various scenes from the Old Testament, but also material from within the Gospel of Matthew. Beyond the question of composition, these two units play a strategic role. These two units, with their universal outlook, bracket the larger story of Jesus as the Jewish messiah sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. This framework is congruent with various pieces of the story, but it contradicts the dominant worldview of the narrative. These brackets are strategically placed, however, and they generate a new trajectory across the story of Jesus. This process is of decisive importance for the composition of this gospel, but even more so for its identity and function. This raises again the question of narrative coherence and theological integrity. Why would anyone appropriate such a wide variety of material, including the structural framework, then contradict it through the framing of the narrative? Put obversely, why would anyone employ such a bulk of material that runs against the primary focus articulated in the introduction and conclusion. Can 14  Various types of literature were penned in Peter’s name, including one letter in the New Testament.

274

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

the thesis reshape the evidence, or should the evidence change the thesis? Is this simply a case of unfinished editing or inferior thinking? Can a narrative – or a gospel – be divided upon itself and stand? And why would it want to? 2.7 Summation: The Confluence and Competition of Voices in the Gospel of Matthew Chapter Two demonstrated the conflict, disjunction and contradiction that characterize the narrative world of the Gospel of Matthew. New Testament scholarship has typically ignored, denied or justified this contradiction. In many scenarios, Matthew’s literary skill and theological acumen are said to have created narrative unity and theological coherence from this chaos. Where the conflict is engaged, scholars typically pose Matthew as the mediator who has sorted out the conflicts within a divided community while taking on the crisis atmosphere created by separation from the synagogue. Most scholars connect the primary conflict to an external threat. Our analysis showed that much of the conflict is inherent within the sources themselves, but also that significant contradictions are first created within the text. No theory of literary design or theological coherence can account for the presence of such contradiction, much less its production. The most plausible explanation is found in the Tradition History of this gospel and in its composition within a specific historical context of conflict. That landscape looks quite different if we abandon the presumption that Matthew is ultimately accountable for each omission, each addition, each change in order or tense. The landscape looks different if we abandon the modern need and the modern standards for narrative coherence and consistency. The landscape looks different if we step back from the grand narratives of Judaism and Christianity as two monolithic, definable entities who parted ways early in the 1st century. In the formative period of both traditions, the Gospel of Matthew has incorporated conflicting representations of Jewish faith in an effort to frame a new tradition about the Jewish Messiah. This new Messianic tradition serves as the basis for projecting a new understanding of the community of Jesus’ followers and its future. The conflicted narrative is based on conflicting sources, some of which are themselves divided over issues of Jewish faith. It is not clear that one narrative could flatten out the contradictions in these sources, but it is clear that the Gospel of Matthew has not. The Gospel of Matthew reflects the conflict of its sources because it reflects the conflict within its larger orbit. To represent the situation otherwise would be to misrepresent it. It is noteworthy that the Gospel of Matthew, unlike Acts or the letters of Paul, does not present any Gentile church and does not give the name of a single Gentile follower of Jesus. This may be because no such entity exists within the

2.0 Competing Jewish Voices in the Gospel of Matthew

275

orbit of this gospel. What exists, on the one hand, are a variety of synagogues and a variety of house churches and a variety of texts and traditions, probably all within the orbit of Judaism. On the other hand are a variety of individuals who circulate in various engagements among those house churches and synagogues and various individuals who wander in and out of the orbit of this gospel.15 With the exception of a few Gentiles whose faith reveals the failure of Israel, the Gospel of Matthew is inhabited by Jewish characters and concepts and ideas and by Jewish debates with other Jews. The mission to the Gentiles is a future hope. While the story will be read differently in later years, the Gospel of Matthew belongs at the crossroads of the formative, conflicted debate among Jews about the way forward in the aftermath of the 1st Jewish War. The composition history shows that the Gospel of Matthew has incorporated a variety of Jewish traditions, and it has not silenced these conflicting voices. Our attention to the historical setting suggests coherence of context, but also of kind. Chapter Eleven showed various dialectical engagements through which Judaism was being defined. Thus, the Gospel of Matthew not only reflects the conflicted landscape from which it emerges; it projects and engages and develops this conflict as its own internal landscape.16 This is an example of the literary technique of mimesis. Beyond simply telling about conflict or employing the language of debate, the Gospel of Matthew embodies the debate over Jewishness. This dialectical engagement is essential to the identity and the function of this gospel. In this sense, the Gospel of Matthew may be the most historically accurate of any text in the New Testament. It is anamatapoetic in a literal sense, and it so to an extreme degree. Such narratives that embody and live out the reality they portray are rare creatures. They project a reality that cannot be captured in the words and stories alone. The biblical genre of apocalyptic, with its mythical images of angels, trumpets, beasts and cosmic dissolutions, may be best suited to project the violence of war and persecution. Genres like psalms or laments may embody what they seek to tell. The Gospel of a Matthew belongs to this type of mimetic literature that is is designed not only to be interpreted, but also to be experienced. But such narratives are rarely detached accounts of what is. They are not only descriptive, but often are also prescriptive. They are often hortatory as well as indicative: they are typically driven by a vision of what is not yet. Indeed, the Gospel of Matthew projects its own way forward from the chaos it describes. We will need to ask to what degree that vision is rooted in Judaism and to what degree it has moved beyond the boundaries of engagement and debate. 15  If one were to read the events described in the book of Acts not by following Paul, but by watching the traffic in one place (such as Philippi or Antioch), a similar flow could be observed. In contrast to the Gospel of Matthew, Acts names Gentile Christians and churches and narrates the decisive and final break between Paul and the synagogues – three times! 16 As shown in Chapter Eight.

276

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

The historical connection to a conflicted era is rooted in the composition history of the Gospel of Matthew, but so is its vision of the future. This projection is not difficult to find in the story. After the eschatological crisis, described in terms borrowed from Mark 13, comes the vision of a new future. The Markan temporal interpretation is adopted: the wars, famines, and earthquakes are not the end, but rather “the beginning of birth pangs.” (Mt 24.8; Mk 13.8). When the eschatological woes are described, the other Markan marker  – before the end, the gospel must be preached to all nations (Mk 13.10) – has been relocated to Mt 24.13, after the Markan statement on endurance. In this way, the Gospel of Matthew fills the interim of suffering with the mission to the nations, centered around the preaching of “this gospel of the Kingdom” (Mt 24.14). Thus, the Gospel of Matthew realigns the Markan vision of suffering and endurance through its own mission to the whole world. When this mission is accomplished, “the end will come” (Mt 24.14; see also Mt 28.20).17 This redirection of the apocalyptic timeline sets the stage for the final scene of the gospel. While the Gospel of Mark leaves open the promised appearance in the Galilee (Mk 16.1–8), the Gospel of Matthew makes specific reference to the Galilee in the appearance of Jesus to the women in Mt 28.10 and demonstrates its fulfillment in Mt 28.16–20. These adaptations set up the final scene. In the Gospel of Matthew the resurrection of Jesus creates a new environment. First, there is a new status for Jesus, who now has all authority in heaven and on earth. Secondly, the disciples have a new task; they are told to do what they were previously forbidden to do – go beyond the bounds of Israel. Thirdly, a new credo is articulated in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Fourthly, a new task is given in the form of teaching and baptizing. Finally, a new promise is given: the risen Christ is with them and will lead them to the end of the age (Mt 28.20; see also Mt 24.14). The reality of this new future is not demonstrated at the end of the gospel; it has been projected already in the midst of the story. Peter’s confession that Jesus is “the Christ, the Son of the living God” (Mt 16.16) provides the basis and the occasion for articulating the vision. The future of the Kingdom is to be found in the church, and the church is founded upon Peter’s confession. Cosmic authority will reside in the church; the gates of Hell will not prevail against it, and authority is given to the church to loose and bind, both on earth and in heaven (Mt 16.17–19). In the transfiguration scene, Peter witnesses the confirmation of the identity and authority of Jesus. Jesus is the Son of Man who will be raised from the dead (Mt 17.9); he is the Beloved Son of God (Mt 17.5); as the Messiah, he stands alongside the great Lawgiver Moses and the great prophet Elijah (Mt 17:3). 17 It is noteworthy that the Gospel of Matthew does nothing new with a saying of Jesus borrowed from Mk 14.9. When a woman anoints the head of Jesus, he interprets this as a preparation for his death, then commands that “Wherever this gospel is preached in the whole world, it shall be told also what she did as a tribute to her.” (Mt 26.9)

3.0 A Gentile Voice in a Jewish World or a Jewish Voice in a Gentile World?

277

The authority of the church is demonstrated in one further passage. The church has authority to mediate between arguing factions; its decisions are binding; it stands in the presence of God; and its requests will be answered by God (Mt 18.15–20). The composition history thus reveals two lines of engagement. One is indicative and descriptive. The conflicted world of the narrative reflects the nature of its sources and embodies the chaos of its historical situation. The other line of engagement is hortatory and prescriptive. The Gospel of Matthew projects the future of the church beyond the bounds of the narrative. I will argue that both accounts – the reality that is and the reality that is not yet – provide identity markers and offers clues to the purpose of this gospel.

3.0 A Gentile Voice in a Jewish World or a Jewish Voice in a Gentile World? To focus the issue more precisely, the Gospel of Matthew hosts conflicting images of what it means to be Jewish. Some elements represent a conservative understanding of the Jewish Law and affirm the Pharisaic interpretation. Other elements condemn the Pharisees, including their interpretation. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus both commands obedience to the Law, then reinterprets and realigns its commands. Sacrifice is both demanded and abandoned. The Gospel of Matthew thus sponsors a sharp debate about how to loose and bind the demands of the Torah. Ultimately, however, the power to loose and bind – to interpret God’s commands and to regulate daily life – belongs to the Messiah of Israel, and it will be handed over to the church and to those in Peter’s orbit. A similar contradiction is built around the Gentiles. In the Gospel of Matthew a Gentile centurion has faith like none in Israel, a Canaanite women impresses Jesus with her obstinancy and her faith, and the story ends with a commission to all nations. On the other hand, Gentile is a demeaning term in the Gospel of Matthew, with few positive connotations. One could ask, then, whether the Gospel of Matthew presents a Jewish voice in a Gentile world, or does it present a Gentile voice in a Jewish world. Most of earlier scholarship saw Matthew as a Gentile who was directing the church beyond the bonds of Judaism. More recently scholars have favored a Jewish Matthew who is leading a divided community through its transition from Judaism. Recent scholarship is concerned for how long it has been since Matthew and his community separated from the synagogue. The final result is the same for both camps – the church will become a Gentile institution. Does the Gospel of Matthew represent a Gentile voice in a Jewish world or does it represent a Jewish voice in a Gentile world? A survey of research shows that scholars answer the question in different ways and that they do so by em-

278

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

phasizing different portions of the text. Many commentaries say that Matthew could not be Jewish, because no Jew could spew out the woes of Matthew 23 against other Jews. Other scholars say Matthew is Jewish because, for example, no Gentile would demand absolute obedience to Torah for the followers of Jesus. Ulrich Luz once thought the break with Judaism was in the recent past, and this is reflected in both the grief and the vehemence of this gospel’s rhetoric.18 He is now more open to the idea that the break has not yet happened. Scholars have thus interpreted the divisions in the narrative by trying to locate a temporal moment when the community of Matthew separated from the synagogue – and thus from Judaism. Even those who argue that Matthew and his community are still within the framework of synagogue Judaism suggest this will not last much longer.

4.0 A Jewish Voice in a Jewish World I wish to argue that the Gospel of Matthew creates a Jewish voice in a Jewish world. This gospel is polytonic in the midst of a conflicted Judaism, but it is thoroughly Jewish. The text echoes with demands for obedience to the Law and respect for the seat of Moses. The challenges to the interpretation of Torah are typically not dismissive, but based in Jewish modes of argument: setting scripture against scripture, the prioritizing of requirements, valuing the prophetic over the cultic. The Gospel of Matthew, however, evokes a further Jewish hermeneutic: it places the interpretation and teaching of the Jewish Messiah above all else. This is a very different Jewish voice, but it is Jewish.19 4.1 The Contours of the Narrative The Gospel of Matthew raises within the contours of the narrative the question about what kind of Jewishness is represented: is the baptism of John from heaven or humans, in what authority are these things done, who do people say that the Son of Man is? And the Gospel of Matthew answers the question within the contours of the narrative: this is the book of the generations of Jesus the Messiah; this is my Son, the Beloved; you are the Christ, the Son of the living God. Pharisees are criticized for not being Jewish enough, and a higher righteousness is demanded of the followers of Jesus. The content of Jesus’ message is about the Jewish conception of the Kingdom of God, and this new reality is shown as a hope fulfilled. In contrast to the blindness and deafness of others, Jesus says of his followers:  Luz, Matthew 1–7.  It is more akin to the crisis mode of the prophets who are willing to set aside sacrifice and to replace ritual with ethics. See, for example, Hos 6.6; Amos 5.23, 24. See also Ps 40.6–8. 18 19

4.0 A Jewish Voice in a Jewish World

279

But for you, blessed are the eyes that see and the ears that hear. Amen. I say to you that many prophets and righteous ones longed to see what you behold and did not see and to hear what you hear and did not hear. (Mt 13.16–17)

This assertion that the Jewish Messiah, in the teaching of the Kingdom and in the call to discipleship, has fulfilled God’s promises to Israel is the key component and the central dynamic of the Gospel of Matthew. This claim is articulated within the context of the narrative in an exceptional, prophetic, Jewish voice. 4.2 The Final Vision But how Jewish is the new future envisioned by the Gospel of Matthew? There is an obvious distinction in terminology. The term synagogue refers to those “gathered together,” while the term church refers to those “called out.” There is a likely coherence here, and it too is Jewish: the new community will be called out from the synagogue. That is certainly true of the disciples within the narrative, and it may be true for those envisioned beyond the narrative. Is the church a non-Jewish concept? Nothing in the term church and nothing in the scenes with Peter imagine a non-Jewish community. The foundational figure is Peter, a Jewish disciple. The rock upon which the church is built is Peter’s confession that Jesus is the Jewish Messiah, the Son of God. The power of the church is akin to that of the Jewish leaders: to loose and bind in their interpretation of God’s will. When the church is unable to discipline a member, they are instructed to then treat the offender “as a Gentile and a tax collector” (Mt 18.15–17). When read apart from what the concept will become, the vision of the church fits within the Jewish ethos of the narrative. In their mission to Israel, followers of Jesus will be dragged before governors and kings and will testify against them and against “the nations” or “the Gentiles” (Mt 10.18).20 In the eschatological woes, followers of Jesus will be hated by “all nations” (Mt 24.9). While the Gospel of Matthew sponsors a prophetic, messianic movement around the figure of Jesus, nothing in the development of the narrative, even its projection of the future, places Jesus or his followers outside the realm of Judaism – until, apparently, the final scenes. 4.2.1 The Jewishness of the Final Vision To what degree does the final appearance and commission of Mt 28.16–20 contradict the previous narrative and move beyond the bounds of Judaism? There

20  The form τὰ ἔθνη can mean the nations and can also be used to refer non-Jews, that is, Gentiles.

280

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

are elements here that point to a new worldview,21 but the scene is more Jewish than most interpreters notice. Mt 28.16–20 can be read in the light of various Old Testament images. In the vision of Daniel 7.13–18, the Son of Man comes with the clouds of heaven, and he is given “dominion, glory, and kingship” in order that “all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him.” Because of his authority, “the holy ones of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess the kingdom forever, forever and ever.” The message that “I am with you” echoes Haggai 1.13. The “end of the age” is the time of harvest in Mt 13.39, and this reflects a Hebrew concept.22 The mountaintop setting and the commission scene are rooted in various Old Testament scenes and images.23 From a broader perspective, it appears at first glance that an Old Testament motif of the gathering of the nations to Zion that echoed through the birth narrative has been paired here with a new, rather non-Jewish motif of the mission to the nations. The gathering of the nations motif has various expressions. The scene of the Magi can be read in light of Psalm 72, where the kings of the earth bring gifts, including gold, to God’s king. The psalm ends with an inclusive prayer: “may all the nations be blessed in him.” Various other passages tell of the nations bringing goods and tribute to Israel. The motif of the streaming of the nations to Zion to learn of God is found in various places in the Hebrew scriptures. The most prominent expression is Isaiah 2.2–4: In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it. Many peoples shall say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.” For out of Zion shall go forth instruction, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.

Other passages offer a similar vision. Isaiah 11.10 says “On that day the root of Jesses shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious.” Isaiah 56 says of foreigners who join themselves to the Lord: these I will bring to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of prayer; their burnt offerings and their sacrifices will be accepted on my altar; for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples. Thus says the Lord God, who gathers the outcasts of Israel, I will gather others to them besides those already gathered. (Isa 56.7–8) 21 Eph 1.20–23 seems to be an explicit interpretation of this tradition in relation to the ministry of the church. See as well Rev 12.10. 22  See also Enoch 16.1 and 4 Esdra 7.113. 23 See Exod 19.3–6; 33.12–23; 34.1–28; 1 Kgs 19.4–21.

4.0 A Jewish Voice in a Jewish World

281

Thus, it appears that the Gospel of Matthew creates a bracket around the story of Jesus. The Old Testament motif of the gathering of the nations to Zion provides a preface to the story of Jesus in the birth narrative.24 The other side of the bracket is found in the conclusion, which seems to create a new, rather non-Jewish concept of a mission to the nations. This is not entirely the case. While the motif of Israel going to the nations is less known, it too plays an important role in the Hebrew scriptures. The most prominent expression is the prophetic vision of the future that concludes the book of Isaiah. For I know their works and their thoughts, and I am coming to gather all nations and tongues; and they shall come and shall see my glory, and I will set them a sign among them. From them I will send survivors to the nations … to the coastlands far away that have not heard of my fame or seen my glory; and they shall declare my glory among the nations. They shall bring all your kindred from all the nations as an offering to the Lord … to my holy mountain Jerusalem, says the Lord, just as the Israelites bring a grain offering in a clean vessel to the house of the Lord. And I will also take some of them as priests and Levites, says the Lord. For as the new heavens and the new earth, which I will make, shall remain before me, says the Lord; so shall your descendants and your name remain. From new moon to new moon, and from sabbath to Sabbath, all flesh shall come to worship me, says the Lord. (Isa 66.18–24)

At the end of the book of Isaiah stands a vision that is at once prophetic, eschatological, and universal. In the endtime the nations are brought as an offering to God because God has sent messengers to bring them home. It thus appears that the story of Jesus’ work among the villages and the people of Israel has been framed in the Gospel of Matthew with two Old Testament motifs: the nations streaming to Zion to learn of the Lord and the final sending of envoys to gather from the nations. Both images are rooted in the Jewish concept of covenantal history and express a vision of Jewish univeralism. The coming to Israel and the going to the nations are modeled in two stories within the narrative on the basis of Hebrew scripture. Paired with the sign of Jonah in Mt 12.42 is the witness of the queen of the South. This recalls the story of the visit by the queen of Sheba to Solomon (1 Kgs 10.1–10; 2 Chron 9.1–9). Her gifts to Solomon are listed among the many kings and leaders who send tribute to Jerusalem, but she comes personally to investigate Solomon’s wisdom, and she concludes with a benediction: Blessed be the Lord your God, who has delighted in you and set you on the throne of Israel! Because the Lord loved Israel forever, he has made you king to execute justice and righteousness. (1 Kgs 10.9)

A second lesson from scripture is found in the “sign of Jonah,” which is established around two related images (Mt 12.38–42). First, Jonah’s three days in the 24 And

perhaps as well in the story of the centurion.

282

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

sea creature are a sign of the three days and nights that the Son of Man will be in the heart of the earth. Secondly, the people of Ninevah “repented at the preaching of Jonah” (Mt 12. 41). The motif of comparison at work in the centurion story (Mt 8.5–13) and elsewhere is also used here: this generation will be judged for their lack of repentance, and foreigners will rise as witnesses (Mt 12.41). Beyond these points, however, is the base reality behind this story: embedded in the scripture and in the memory of Israel is the story of foreigners who, despite the reluctance and disgust of Jonah, repented and were spared. In the witness of the Son of Man, something greater than Jonah is confronting this generation. The concept is restated in Mt 16.1–4. When asked for a sign, Jesus replies,”An evil and adulterous generation asks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah.” The paired Old Testament motifs are not simply illustration or commentary. These Old Testament stories of coming to Israel and going to the nations are presented as signs for this evil and adulterous generation and as testimony for the coming judgment. Moreover, these stories are tied specifically to the witness of the Son of Man. In his witness, something greater than Jonah, something greater than Solomon has come (Mt 12.41,42). This paired vision of the nations streaming to Zion and the endtime going out to gather from the nations may be modeled and previewed within the Gospel of Matthew in two exceptional stories about Gentiles. In Mt 8.5–13, a centurion comes to Jesus to ask healing for his daughter. He resists Jesus’ offer to come to his house25 and wishes only a command from Jesus. A healing from a distance occurs, but the central focus of the story is the amazement and acclamation by Jesus: Amen. I say to you, nowhere in Israel have I found such faith. But I say to you that many from the East and the West shall gather and shall dine with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob in the Kingdom of Heaven. But the sons of the Kingdom will be cast out into the outer darkness, and there shall be weeping and the gnashing of teeth. (Mt 8.10–13)

In the healing story of Mt 15.21–28 Jesus goes to the region of Tyre and Sidon – to Syria.26 There he is confronted by a woman who also asks healing for her daughter. As with the centurion, the daughter seems to be healed from a distance by the command of Jesus. As with the story of the centurion, the central focus is on the dialogue and upon the acclamation from Jesus. The debate about the priority of Israel over the nations is central, with Jesus taking the exclusivist position and the woman arguing for an extended mercy. The resolution is provided by the focus on her faith: “Then Jesus answered her, ‘O woman, great is your faith. Let it be to you as you wish’” (Mt 15.28).  The purity issues are not addressed, but they may underlie the story.  It is noteworthy that the Gospel of Matthew changes the designation of the woman from a Syro-Phoenecian (Mk 7.26) to a Canaanite (Mt 15.22), evoking Israel’s ancient foe. 25 26

4.0 A Jewish Voice in a Jewish World

283

The body of the narrative thus illustrates, in its only two scenes that focus on Gentiles, the two motifs from Hebrew scripture that bracket the story. Some Gentiles will come to Israel for faith, but when messengers from Israel go into the wider world, they will be met there by the faith of Gentiles. In this way memory and present experience are transformed into eschatology in the Gospel of Matthew. The gathering and the going that had already happened in the story of Israel and happens again in the story of Jesus now becomes the framework for a new vision of the future. In that future the Jewish followers of Jesus will go out to gather believers from among the nations. In the Gospel of Matthew, this is described as a sign (Mt 12.38–39; 16.1–4)27. This may evoke in a specific way the language of Isaiah: I am coming to gather all nations and tongues; and they shall see my glory; and I will set a sign among them. From them I will send survivors to the nations … and they shall declare my glory among the nations. They shall bring all your kindred from all the nations as an offspring to the Lord … to my holy mountain Jerusalem, says the Lord, just as the Israelites bring a grain offering in a clean vessel to the house of the Lord. And I will also take some of them as priests and as Levites, says the Lord. (Isa 66.18–21)

The sign to this generation is fully realized in the endtime appearance of the Son of Man, which will also involve an ingathering from the nations: And then you shall see the sign of the Son of Man in heaven, and then shall mourn all the tribes of the earth and they shall see the Son of Man coming upon the clouds of heaven with authority and great glory. And he will send his messengers with a great trumpet blast, and they will gather his elect from the four winds from the one boundary of the heavens to the other. (Mt 24.30–31)

Like Isaiah, the eschatological vision of the Gospel of Matthew involves a standard or sign set among the nations and the sending of messengers to gather from the nations. Other aspects of Mt 28.16–20 are also Jewish. The gathering involves the 11 remaining disciples, and in the Gospel of Matthew this is a Jewish band. The task given them is rooted in their identity as Jewish followers of Jesus: those who are disciples are sent to make disciples (μαθητεύσατε). The use of this term in Mt 28.19 is extraordinary. The verb form μαθητεύω is normally found in the intransitive with the sense “to become a disciple”. It is used this way in Plutarch, but the term is not found in the Septuagint, in Philo, or in Josephus. This typical Hellenistic use of the term occurs in the New Testament only in a variant reading of Mt 27.57, where Joseph is made a disciple (εμαθήτευσεν).28

27 This concept is developed in a different way in the Fourth Gospel, where the serpent that was lifted up by Moses is connected to the lifting up of Jesus on the cross. The Fourth Gospel also develops a series of signs around the activity of Jesus. 28 This intransitive form is found in the following manuscripts: A B L W f 13 M.

284

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

Elsewhere in the New Testament the transitive form is used, with the sense of “make disciples”. This unique term is found in the passive in Mt 27.57 in the favored reading.29 The active transitive form of “make disciples” is found in Acts 14.21 alongside the verb for evangelize (εὐαγγελισάμενοί and μαθητεύσαντες). Beyond this, the term is found only in Mt 13.52 in the transitive passive form (“every scribe who has been made a disciple”) and in Mt 28.19 in the transitive active imperative form (“make disciples”). What it means to be a disciple has been carefully defined within the Gospel of Matthew, beginning with the call of the four fishers (Mt 4.18–22) and their ministry with Jesus in the Galilee. This ministry is comprised of teaching in the synagogues, preaching the gospel of the Kingdom, and healing (Mt 5.23). It is, however, in Jesus’ call to the mountain to hear his instruction on the Kingdom that the term disciples is first applied to the initial four followers of Jesus (Mt 5.1–2). It is with the sending to Israel that the 12 are named and commissioned, with Peter named first (Mt 10.1–15). In the Gospel of Matthew, then, discipleship is a Jewish calling, and Peter is the primary model. A secondary model is found in Jewish scribes who have been made disciples. Teaching observance is also a Jewish concept, normally in relation to the Law and its application in daily life. In Mt 28.20, those sent by Jesus are to teach observance. Here, however, the focus has shifted from the Torah to the Messiah: they are to teach people to observe all of the things Jesus commanded. What Jesus commanded, however, is a higher righteousness (Mt 5.20) that fulfills every detail of the Law. It thus becomes evident, upon close analysis, that the commissioning scene in Mt 28.16–20 incorporates important Jewish images and concepts. A mountaintop commission, evoking various Old Testament images, is given to Jewish followers of the Messiah. Their charge is to teach what Jesus taught them and to make others what Jesus made them – disciples who practice a greater righteousness. As with Isaiah, this call to gather the nations is both cosmological and eschatological. Within the Gospel of Matthew, this is the sign or standard that the Son of Man puts in place. Within this Jewish worldview, the explicit messianic dimensions of the commission make it unique. 4.2.2 A New Vision Beyond Judaism? Three additional elements stand out, and they may take the scene beyond the conceptual world of the previous narrative and, perhaps, beyond the bounds of Judaism. New disciples are to be baptized, and this rite is to be done in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Moreover, in some manuscripts, the

29  The transitive passive (to be made a disciple) is found in the following manuscripts: ‫ א‬C D θ f1 33. 700. 892 and a few others.

4.0 A Jewish Voice in a Jewish World

285

disciples worship Jesus. It is not a far leap from this scene to Christian baptism, to the doctrine of the Trinity, and to the worship of Jesus. But it is still a leap. Baptism is an initiating rite for converts to Judaism, but John the Baptist excommunicated the entire nation and asked them to stream to the Jordan to be baptized like repentant proselytes. Moreover, the use of the name in the ritual is threefold, but not yet Trinitarian. Furthermore, solid manuscript evidence supports a reading in which the disciples worship not Jesus, but God. Nothing in the previous narrative developments, however, prepares for these new challenges.30 Neither does the narrative develop the concept of the Holy Spirit as a distinct entity. For the Gospel of Matthew this assignment is new work, and this might be seen as a move beyond the circle of Judaism. Perhaps the biggest challenge is the concept of worshipping Jesus. While the act of bowing need not be worship, it often is. The manuscript tradition reflects continuing interest and explicit concern over this term. Some manuscripts will add “him” to make it clear the disciples are worshipping Jesus. Others, however, do not define the object of worship and simply read “and seeing him they worshipped.”31 Within a Jewish context, God is the presumed object of worship, a value reinforced by Jesus himself within the temptation scene (Mt 4.10 citing Deut 6.13; 10.20; 32.43). A similar linguistic issue is found around “the nations” (τὰ ἔθνη). This term can mean the nations or the Gentiles. While most Old Testament uses would include both, it does include the concept of geopolitical units outside of Israel. While the term is not used, that is likely the concept in Mt 24.30–31, which reads: The sign of the Son of Man will appear in heaven, and then all the tribes of the earth will mourn, and they will see “the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven” with power and great glory. And he will send out his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other.

4.2.3 The Mouvance of Matthew 28.16–20 If we take seriously the development of the manuscript tradition and the role of transmission history, we must at least ask how the novel elements of baptism in the threefold name came to be a part of the narrative. To do so, however, is an exercise in how critical scholarship best deals with the silence of what we do not know and do not have.

30  There is preparation for the practices of the Lord’s Supper as an appropriation of the Passover tradition, but not for baptism or the threefold confession. A few scenes employ awe and prostration, but largely in line with Old Testament epiphanies. 31  “Worshipped him” is found in Sinaiticus, Alexandrinus, Washingtonius, and the Byzantine majority tradition. “Worshipped” is found in Vaticanus, D, 33 and some others.

286

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

We know of only one manuscript that ends with Mt 28.15. This manuscript (0234) is fragmentary, containing only Mt 28.11–15 and John 1.4–8, 20–24. The Gospel of John follows the Gospel of Matthew in this manuscript. Without visual inspection, it cannot be ascertained whether the text was meant to end at Mt 28.15 or whether it was broken off at this point.32 Beyond this, all manuscripts that have the ending of the Gospel of Matthew conclude with Mt 28.20. The final commission in Mt 28.16–20 is central to almost all understandings of this gospel. For most interpreters, this scene is the goal toward which the narrative has been shaped and designed. For many, the final scene provides the hermeneutic through which to resolve the conflicts of the larger narrative, but also the window through which to view the author’s intent and the situation of the community behind this gospel. The less fixed this tradition is, the more difficult it becomes to sustain such readings. In reality, the final commission of Mt 28.16–20 is known in a variety of forms, and its history of development is difficult to trace. As with the larger gospel, the final commission is a tradition that is marked by mouvance – it is a work in process. 4.2.3.1 The Fragility of the Tradition Many interpreters emphasize that no early manuscript has an alternate version of Mt. 28.16–20. This claim is deceptive. No available New Testament manuscript before 350 ce contains any ending for the Gospel of Matthew. Once the final commission is presented in Codex Sinaiticus and in Codex Vaticanus – around 350 ce  – it becomes standard in the manuscript tradition. This solidarity may represent an ancient tradition – though it hardly represents the words of Jesus. However, this solidarity may extend no further back than the generation of manuscripts upon which Sinaiticus and Vaticanus are based. As noted before, the end of the 3rd century was marked by wholesale destruction of New Testament manuscripts, creating a type of bottleneck in the flow of the tradition. The manuscripts of the early 4th century were copied from a small group of surviving manuscripts, and these exemplars may not reflect the variety of the previous generations and the varied text types. To put it as plainly as possible, it cannot be certified that any text of the Gospel of Matthew prior to 350 ce ended with the final commission in the form of Mt 28.16–20. Nor can it be certified that this manuscript tradition exists prior to the 4th century.

32  This 8th century fragment, designated as Codex 0234, was last known in Damascus, but it is now missing.

4.0 A Jewish Voice in a Jewish World

287

4.2.3.2 Various Forms of the Final Commission The final commission of Mt 28.16–20 is known from Codex Sinaiticus and Codex Vaticanus, and a Latin manuscript (a), all dated from the 4th century. The saying itself is found or suggested in a few earlier patristic writings. Didache 7.1 and 7.3 contain the triadic phrase, but it is difficult to date the point at which this form became a part of the manuscript tradition for the Didache, and it is difficult to date the Didache itself. The Didache does not, however, contain a commission to the Gentiles. Moreover, it is possible that the Didache also knows a shorter formulation of the commission: Didache 9.5 refers to “those who have been baptized in the Lord’s name.” The Odes of Solomon (perhaps late 2nd century ce) refers to a triadic name in reference to the composition of scripture. Odes 23.31–32 says “And the name of the Father was upon it; and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, to rule for ever and ever.” Justin Martyr (c.100-c.165 ce) seems to know the phrase, using it three times around the middle of the 2nd century. In 1st Apology 61, Justin refers to the Christian practice of baptism in the threefold name. In 1st Apology 65, Justin refers to the use of the threefold name in the celebration of eucharist. Tertullian (c.160-c.225 ce), in De Corona 3, understood the three questions posed at baptism to be grounded in Mt 28.19. Thus, several patristic traditions from the late 1st century or from the 2nd century cite or reflect a threefold tradition similar to that of Mt. 28.16–20. There is a strong case, however, for a shorter – and likely earlier – form of the commission. In 1904, F. C. Conybeare pointed out the use of two forms of the commission in the works of Eusebius. Moreover, Conybeare believed the two forms could be located in distinct settings. He argued that in materials prior to 325 ce, a shorter version is always cited: “Go and make disciples in my name.” Conybeare believed that only after 325 ce – and thus the Council of Nicea – does Eusebius cite the longer, tripartite form. The shorter version is cited sixteen times by Eusebius, while the tripartite form is cited five times. It is difficult to argue that Eusebius is simply offering a loose citation of the formula. In one instance he exegetes the significance of the shorter formulation. For he did not enjoin them ‘to make disciples of all nations’ simply and without qualification, but with the essential addition ‘in his name.’ For so great was the virtue attached to his appellation that the Apostle says, God bestowed on him the name above every name, that in the name of Jesus every knee shall bow of things in heaven and on earth and under the earth. It was right therefore that he should emphasize the virtue of the power residing in his name but hidden from the many, and therefore say to his Apostles, Go ye and make disciples of all nations in my name.33

33 Demonstratio

Evangelica 240.136.

288

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

Conybeare suggested that Nicea, with its focus on Trinitarian orthodoxy, encouraged Eusebius to use the tripartite formula. Conybeare believed the longer commission originated in the period around 130 ce to conform to liturgical usage, then became a part of the Old Latin text in Africa. Only later, said Conybeare, does it impact the Greek manuscript tradition.34 This line of distinction appears too rigid to most scholars, since the tripartite formula is known earlier than Eusebius. Others, however, have noted that the shorter form – ”Go and make disciples in my name” – is indicative of the earliest commissions cited in the book of Acts and in the longer ending of the Gospel of Mark. All have a singular focus on the name of Jesus. Mk 16.15–18 Go into all the world and preach the gospel to the whole creation. The one who believes and is baptized will be saved, but the one who does not believe will be condemned. And these signs will accompany those who believe: in my name they will cast out demons …” Acts 2.38 Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. Acts 8.16 … but they had only been baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. Acts 10.48 And he commanded them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ. Acts 19.5 On hearing this, they were baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. Rom 6.3 Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Gal 3.27 For as many of you as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ.

Conybeare believed the shorter form of the commission was reflected in Dialogue 39 and 53 of Justin Martyr and in the Shepherd of Hermas in Similitude 9.17.4.35 This position was taken up in 1965 by Hans Kosmala, who argued that the more primitive form was superseded by the more complex formulation.36 While no extant New Testament manuscript contains the shorter form of the commission, it is found in one patristic text on the lips of a Jewish Christian. In “The Discourse on Mary Theotokos” of Cyril of Alexandria (British Museum Mss 6784, 10–12th century), a Jewish Christian monk – a disciple of Ebion – cites 34  See the useful discussion by Jane Shaberg, The Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit: the Triadic Phrase in Matthew 28:19b, (Missoula: SBL, 1982), pp. 27–29. 35  See the discussion in George Howard, The Hebrew Gospel of Matthew, pp. 192–94. 36  Hans Kosmola, “The Conclusion of Matthew,” ASTI 4 (1965), pp. 132–47. See the discussion in Howard, The Hebrew Gospel of Matthew, p. 193.

4.0 A Jewish Voice in a Jewish World

289

the command as follows: “The Christ said, ‘Go forth into all the world and teach all the nations in my name, in every place.’” Schlomo Pines believed that a Muslim document entitled “The Establishment of the Truth” refered to the shorter form of the commission, and he argued this was drawn from earlier Jewish Christian sources. David Flusser attempted to connect this line of tradition to the shorter form found in Eusebius.37 The form is even shorter in the Shem-Tob text of Hebrew Matthew: “Go and teach them to carry out all the things which I have commanded you forever.” While the text is medieval, George Howard argues that it draws upon an earlier line of tradition for the shorter form of the commission.38 4.2.3.3 A Continuum of Traditions The commission has a Tradition History that incorporates at least four distinct forms. The role of the name and the focus of the mission is combined in various ways. 1. Trinity and Gentiles Justin Martyr and (perhaps) a few other patristic writers All manuscripts with Mt 28.16–20 after the year 350 ce Eusebius after Nicea (5 times) 2. No Trinity, No Gentiles Didache 9.5 Eusebius (16 times) before Nicea “The Establishment of the Truth” and its antecedants (Schlomo Pines and David Flusser). Shem-Tob’s Hebrew Matthew 3. Trinity, No Gentiles Didache 7.1,3 Odes of Solomon (in reference to the composition of scripture) 4. Gentiles, No Trinity Mk 16.15 Acts “The Discourse on Mary Theotokos” of Cyril of Alexandria

4.2.3.4 Plausible Lines of Development Beyond simply noting the variability of the commission, it is possible to suggest a history of this tradition. Two lines of development may be considered. Option 1: A Vorlage and its Development If the tradition developed along a singular line, it is plausible that a vorlage underlies the tradition. This primal form would likely represent a development of Old Testament tradi See the discussion in Howard, The Hebrew Gospel of Matthew, pp. 193–94. The Hebrew Gospel of Matthew, pp. 192–194.

37

38 Howard,

290

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

tions and some echo of the words of Jesus, but its primary shaping is most plausibly within a later, eschatological understanding of the mission of Jesus. A Jewish understanding of a final mission to Israel before the coming of the Son of Man underlies the commission. This mission presumed observance of the Law through a messianic interpretation, but the primary focus was eschatological. This use of the commission likely originates within the context of the Sayings Tradition (Q). The Didache accepts this call, but it does so with a heightened, tripartite Christology. No Gentile mission is in view, but there is a developing perspective on Christian observance of prayers, baptism, the supper. The canonical version of the Gospel of Matthew unites the tripartite Christology with a mission to the Gentiles. It also calls for Gentiles to practice a messianic form of Torah observance. Various Jewish Christian texts embrace some form of commission, and some do so with inclusion of Gentiles (Recognitions 1.27–71 in the Pseudo-Clementines). In this, they share common ground with the shorter version of Eusebius. The Jewish Christian version of the commission is likely reflected in the shorter Eusebian forms, then it reappears in Cyril’s discourse on Mary, in the anti-Christian Muslim text, and in the Shem-Tob version of Hebrew Matthew. In this line of development, a Jewish, eschatological commission has been developed along various lines. It would be difficult to argue that the canonical form is the earliest and was then abridged to fit a later, more narrow understanding of the commission. Option 2: A Tradition without a Vorlage It is plausible that two distinct versions, both original, shaped the field of development. One line can be observed in canonical Matthew and in those who cite it. The other line can be observed in Jewish Christian traditions, likely also involving a version of the Gospel of Matthew. Echoes of this Jewish commission can be found in the longer ending to the Gospel of Mark, in the book of Acts, in Eusebius’ shorter form, in the Didache, in the Coptic Mss of Cyril’s discourse, in the Muslim text “The Establishment of Truth,” and in the tradition that leads to the Hebrew Matthew of Shem-Tob.

4.2.3.5 Evaluation It is not likely that either form of the saying goes back to the historical Jesus. The earliest layers are probably to be found in the form similar to those in the Sayings Tradition and in Acts, where disciples are sent in the name of Jesus. It is unlikely that all forms of the tradition can be explained as developments of canonical Matthew, and it is unlikely that such extensive and varied traditions have reduced a complex vorlage to a simpler, more elemental form. The most plausible explanation is that the commission of Jesus has been articulated and expressed in multiple forms. Thus, there is mouvance or variability within the history of development of the final commission. This is clear within the larger Tradition History, it is clear within the manuscript evidence, and it is clear within the passage itself.

4.0 A Jewish Voice in a Jewish World

291

4.2.4 Gentile Counter Voices? I have argued that the Gospel of Matthew creates a Jewish voice within a changing Jewish world and that it does so by bringing together various conflicting traditions. Are there Gentile voices circulating through this narrative and, if so, where do they fit in the Tradition History of this gospel? Two constructs may indeed reflect counter traditions. 4.2.4.1 “His blood be upon us and upon our children” In Mt 27.24 Pilate washes his hands and declares himself innocent of Jesus’ blood. The claimed innocence of Pilate is contrasted by the cry of all the people: “His blood be upon us and upon our children” (Mt 27.25). This material is found only in the Gospel of Matthew, and it places responsibility for the death of Jesus precisely upon the Jewish crowd in Jerusalem and upon the Jewish leadership. Does this, in fact, represent a Gentile voice that runs counter to the Jewish ethos of the larger narrative? While the Jewish crowd’s invocation of blood guilt upon themselves and their children is shocking, it may yet be posed within a Jewish ethos. The prophecy of Jeremiah met with such hostility from other Jews (Jer 18.18; 20.1–2; 26.7–11), yet he also prophesied of the redemption of Jerusalem. Similar vindictivenesss by Jews against other Jews – especially Jewish leaders – may also be found at Qumran. The invocation of blood guilt is, from the standpoint of the reader, a judgment that has been realized on a generation now dead and a city now destroyed. Josephus and Hegesippus can look in a similar way upon the fall of Jerusalem and blame it upon the actions of now dead Jewish leaders. In this sense, the blood curse describes for the reader what has already come to pass upon a specific group of Jews from a previous generation. Matthias Konradt argues that this distinction is articulated within the Matthean linguistic world. Konradt insists that the people (λαός) who issue the curse of Mt 27.25 (“his blood be upon us and upon our children”) are the same as the specific Passover throng of Mt 26.5, where a tumult is feared by the chief priests. Moreover, the crowd (ὄχλος) and the people (λαός) are the same group in the scene before Pilate in Mt 27.24–25. Thus, the curse is pronounced upon a specific group present for Passover in Jerusalem. In Matt 27.25, the context makes clear that πᾶς ὁ λαός denotes the crowd gathered before Pilate. After the preceding guidance of the reader in 2.3; 16.21; 21.10–11; and 23.37(–39), it is more precisely the inhabitants of Jerusalem who are in view.39

39 Konradt,

Israel, Church, and the Gentiles, p. 159.

292

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

Noting the connection between the Jerusalem crowd and the chief priests’ fear of a tumult, Konradt concludes that So the θóρυβος of a crowd, which the authorities had feared in 26.5, is instigated by the authorities themselves in order to get rid of Jesus …. With regard to the interpretation of λαός, this connection of the scene of tumult in 27.24–25 with 26.25 makes it clear that λαός in 27.25 is to be understood no differently than in 26.5 and thus confirms the coherence of ὄχλος and λαός in 27.24–25. … And, moreover, since λαός does not have Israel as a collective in view in 26.5 or in 27.25 but rather indicates “people from Israel” it is possible that this refers to different groups among the people.40

It is possible, then, to interpret the shocking cry of Mt 27.24 as a retrospective on the fall of Jerusalem that now serves a part of the intramural conflict among various understandings of Judaism – both within the story and within the world of the later reader. Once established, of course, such invective language can and will be taken up into the discourse of anti-Jewish rhetoric.41 4.2.4.2 The Present Day Tradition While the blood guilt of Mt 27.25 is tied to a specific historical situation, the present day tradition is more generalized and stereotypical. It appears to turn the judgment leveled at particular cities and groups within the ministry of Jesus into an enduring trait in the world of the reader. An extraordinary tradition coheres around three scenes in Mt 11.20–24; 27.1– 10; 28.11–15. This tradition presents unique linguistic, temporal, rhetorical, and ideological traits. Each of the scenes contains a distinct linguistic marker in the construction μέχρι τῆς σήμερον (until the present day). Mt 11.23 Because if in Sodom the wonders were experienced such as happened among you, it would remain even until the present day. Mt 27.8 Therefore that field is called the Field of Blood until ( ἕως ) the present day Mt 28.15 And this report is circulated among Jews until the present day.

While the first marker in Mt 11.23 speaks of the time of Jesus as the present day, the other two instances are unique. Here the marker breaks the temporal framework in Mt 27.8 and 28.11, flashing forward to the time of the reader or listener. This marker also stands out from the larger story line that centers on the ministry of Jesus.  Konradt, Israel, Church, and the Gentiles, pp. 161–62.  Chrysostom, in Homily 1 Against the Jews, says “If they are ignorant of the Father, if they crucified the Son, and spurned the aid of the Spirit, can one not declare with confidence that the synagogue is a dwelling place of demons? God is not worshipped there. Far from it! Rather the synagogue is a temple of idolatry.” Chrysostom will explicitly level the charge of “lawlessness” and “blood guiltiness” against Jews. 40 41

4.0 A Jewish Voice in a Jewish World

293

In the larger narrative, the Gospel of Matthew departs from the time of Jesus in two distinct ways. The story projects the eschatological future with a different construction. In Mt 23.39; 26.29; 26.64 the linguistic phrase ἀπ’ ἄρτι (from the time, until) signals an eschatological moment and sign. Mt 23.39

For I tell you, you will not see me again until you say, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord” Mt 26.29 I tell you I shall not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom Mt 26.64 Jesus said to him, “You have said so. But I tell you, hereafter you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of power and coming on the clouds of heaven”

In contrast, the present day construct points to a time after the death of Jesus, but before the eschatological era. The rhetorical impact of this construction is noteworthy. The story of Jesus is suddenly made into a past event, and the present time of the reader is brought into focus. This strategy creates a stark and rare change in temporal location and in point of view. More importantly, the worldview of the narrative is challenged and changed by the present day construct. These scenes all center on judgment in the face of obstinant rejection of the ministry of Jesus. This rejection happens first in the Jewish villages of the Galilee in the time of Jesus. The judgment focuses especially on Capernaum, which is the center of Jesus’ ministry. Even the pagan villages of Tyre and Sidon will fare better than the Galilean villages that witnessed – and rejected – the ministry of Jesus. This rejection is seen next in the Field of Blood, which recalls the blood money given by Jewish leaders to Judas. The name of the field also invokes the cry of the Jewish crowds in Jerusalem: “His blood be upon us and our children” (Mt 27.25). Moreover, the naming of the Blood Field is cited as prophecy fulfilled. This connection also presents a created, somewhat strained, construct. Jeremiah 18.1–12 associates the lesson at the potter’s house with Israel’s rejection of Yahweh and with the subsequent judgment. Jeremiah 32.6–44 tells how, in the last days before the fall of Jerusalem, Jeremiah buys a field and seals the deed as a prophetic sign of God’s intent to restore Israel. The price of the field was seventeen silver shekels (Jer 32.9). The scene in Mt 27 connects the potter’s house from Jeremiah 18 with the purchase of a field in Jeremiah 32 to create a scene of judgment, then ties it to the blood motif from the bribe of Judas (Mt 27.6) and from the cry of the crowds (Mt 27.25). What is voiced in Mt 27 is not the hope of restoration, but a continuing etymological reminder of the blood guilt of those who rejected and betrayed Jesus. The third usage of the present day construction seeks to negate the resurrection of Jesus. The obstinance and guile of the Jewish religious leaders in denying the resurrection becomes a received tradition that, in the present day, infects “Jews.”

294

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

This constructed tradition creates a stark new line of characterization. The Jewish villages of the Galilee reject Jesus, the Jewish leaders offer blood money, the Jewish crowds invoke blood guilt upon themselves and their children, and “Jews” maintain the report of the stolen body. This ideological stance seems to contradict the larger world of the Gospel of Matthew, where Jesus is the Messiah who comes to Israel and is accepted by some and rejected by some. The local conflict with synagogues, Pharisees, leaders, and Jewish villages within the ministry of Jesus appears to have been turned into an enduring, global characterization of all Jews in the world of the reader. The larger impact of this tradition is profound. Anecdotal scenes of rejection of Jesus during his ministry by some Jews within the story line appear to have been turned into global, permanent, constitutive traits: they now represent the final and permanent rejection of Jesus by “the Jews.” The judgment against Sodom – since it was destroyed – is final and irreversible. Sodom thus becomes a static, durative symbol for the judgment of God. Nonetheless, it will fare better than the Jewish village of Capernaum in the day of judgment. This finality is established within the ministry of Jesus (Mt 11.23–24). The other two instances (Mt 27.8; 28.15) bring this theme of judgment into the present day of the reader. While the blood guilt of Mt 27.25 can be tied to a specific historical situation, the present day tradition appears more generalized and stereotypical – and thus more dangerous. It can be used to turn the judgment leveled at particular cities within the ministry of Jesus into an enduring trait in the world of the reader. Thus, the present day tradition appears to break open the primary time line and the narrated story line, and it seems to stand in stark contradiction to the central themes of the Gospel of Matthew. If this represents an attempt to create a paradigmatic tradition, it appears to be late in the compositional process, and it appears to be both non-Jewish and anti-Jewish. If this is the case, the present day voice stands in glaring contradiction to the larger narrative, but also to the larger Tradition History of the Gospel of Matthew. Prior scenes have cast Jesus and his followers over against the leadership of Israel in general, and the Pharisees in particular. There the argument is about what kind of Jew one is to be and how one is to engage in Jewish practices. There is no question, for example, in the Sermon about whether to fast, pray, give alms; the question is how and with what motivation a good Jew should do these things. Even when there is reference to “their synagogues,” the debate is almost certainly intramural; it presumes the two groups are close enough to need explanation or that various synagogues must be distinguished from one another. The case is entirely different in Mt 28.15. There is found the temporal difference between then and now, and there appears to be a sociological distinction between them (Jews) and us. Because the present day tradition represents a temporal, rhetorical, and ideological anomaly, it is reasonable to ask how and at what point these narrative

4.0 A Jewish Voice in a Jewish World

295

comments came into the text. Is there a present day scribe? We do not have any manuscripts before the 4th century in which these verses have been omitted from a continuous text. But that may be because we do not have any manuscript evidence for either of these two verses before the mid 4th century. This is clearly the type of material that scribes inserted into the margins of manuscripts, and such comments were often copied into the text of later manuscripts. We have no evidence that this did or did not happen with Mt 27.8 or 28.11. More troubling perhaps, is the apparent identification of the text and its readers over against “the Jews.” Again, there is no manuscript evidence that this was or was not included before the mid 4th century. If there is a present day scribe, this clumsy insertion would suggest a Gentile who has not read the narrative well. It is plausible that this present day perspective and its apparent distance from Judaism are a late scribal addition. If so, it is likely found in one major line of transmission (canonical Matthew), but probably not in the other (Hebrew Matthew). If the final scene is staged at the earliest levels over against “the Jews,” this may be seen as clear evidence that the story of the resurrection was, at some point, framed by non-Jewish tradents as a point of departure for the Gentile church. It would also suggest the text and its story world are schizophrenic. Matthias Konradt offers compelling evidence that this is not the case. He reads the rumor of Mt 28.15 (“his disciples came by night and stole him away”) in conjunction with the distinction of groups within Judaism. Konradt believes the hostility of the authorities and their fear of conflict from earlier scenes is thus extended into the future of the reader. The authorities seek to counter this possibility with the rumor of the theft of the corpse. That such gossip circulates “to this day” παρὰ Ἰουδαίοις (28.15) points directly to the polemic that the Matthean community is exposed to in its Jewish surroundings. παρὰ Ἰουδαίοις has a distinct distancing sound; but 28.15 does not make a general statement that the Jewish nation is no longer Israel in a theological sense, nor does it speak of all Ἰουδαίοι – there is no article in παρὰ Ἰουδαίοις. It only says that the rumor of the theft of the corpse has spread among Jewish circles due to the bribery of Roman soldiers by the chief priests and elders.42

In this reading, the rumor is not accepted by “the Jews” but by some Jews, specifically some Jews in the time of the reader who continue to be misled by the plot of the religious authorities. Some Jews within the story reject Jesus. These Jews, and their children, are a lost generation – they died in the destruction of Jerusalem. 4.2.5 Summation The final scene in Mt 28.16–20 has much to commend it as an extraordinary Jewish commission. In a scene wrapped in Old Testament language and images, 42 Konradt,

Israel, Church, and the Gentiles, pp. 162–63

296

Chapter Twelve: The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity

the Jewish Messiah sends his Jewish disciples to gather from the nations those who will heed the call to the Kingdom of God. Among the nations are a variety of Jews worshipping in synagogues of the diaspora. In and around some of those synagogues are righteous Gentiles who are drawn to the faith of Israel. Leadership of those disciples sent by Jesus to the nations falls upon Peter, the ideal Jewish follower of Jesus and a witness to his final command. As the Gospel of Matthew looks back upon the fall of Jerusalem, it is clear that an era has ended and a door has been closed. The crowds who were stirred by the religious leaders to invoke blood guilt upon themselves indeed are now gone. The rumor started by religious leaders about the theft of Jesus’ body indeed continues to circulate within some Jewish circles. However, the closing of one Jewish era in Jerusalem is followed in the Gospel of Matthew by the opening of another Jewish era – a messianic era with universal implications. Many, however, would read in the closing scene the first clear step beyond the bounds of Judaism. For these interpreters, the earlier mission to Israel has met with rejection (Mt 21.33–46), and now the disciples are sent instead to the Gentiles with the gospel. Peter, whose confession is the foundation of the church, is present and is sent by Jesus. Those who are converted will be baptized under the threefold name, and they, like the disciples will worship Jesus. The Jews will not believe that Jesus is risen from the dead. This commission, in the eyes of many, is a declaration of the end of Judaism and the beginning of the church. The voice of the present day (Mt 27.8; 28.11) appears to make this a reality within the narrative itself. Perhaps we should not be surprised that the final scene of the Gospel of Matthew is as conflicted and polyphonic as the rest of the text.43 It is possible to read this final call as the continuation of Jewish faith or to read it as the turn from Israel and the beginning of the Gentile church. What is true of the final scene is true of the entire narrative; it can be read through Jewish eyes or it can be read over against Judaism. Indeed, both possibilities will be realized in the history of transmission of the Gospel of Matthew.

5.0 Conclusion This chapter seeks to locate the Gospel of Matthew as a Living Tradition on the landscape of antiquity. Earlier chapters showed that ancient landscape was marked by conflict and collaboration and that Jewish groups defined themselves through dialectical engagement with a variety of traditions, historical realities, and other groups. 43  And we should not ignore the fact that the form of the text is first known to us from mid 4th century ce.

5.0 Conclusion

297

Within this landscape of a conflicted Judaism, the Gospel of Matthew is itself constituted upon a variety of competing voices and traditions. As such, it reflects the reality of the world about it, but it also embodies and and reshapes that conflict. In this chapter I have argued that most, if not all, of the voices in the Matthean orbit are Jewish. This is even true for most, if not all, of the final commission, which should be read in the context of the previous narrative definitions and in the light of the universal eschatological vision of Isaiah 66. To the competing voices echoing across its world and within its own story, the Gospel of Matthew thus adds a distinct Jewish voice of hope. I argued here that the commission to go the nations is not descriptive, but prescriptive and hortatory. There is no referential point within the narrative that exemplifies this reality; it is an attempt to reshape the landscape through the vision of a new reality for both Israel and the nations.

Chapter Thirteen

The Transmission of the Gospel of MatthewAlong Three Trajectories When the figure of Matthew the author is moved to the background, the composition history of this gospel moves to the foreground. In its composition, the Gospel of Matthew draws upon a variety of conflicting traditions about what it means to be the chosen people of God. Some of these traditions are themselves divided over this question. The Gospel of Matthew incorporates various traditions, and at points it even sponsors the competition over what it means to be Jewish. In doing so, this gospel reflects the conflicted ethos from which it emerged, but it also embodies and reenacts the debate. This is true not only in the history of composition, but also in the history of transmission. The Gospel of Matthew was transmitted along two distinct trajectories into the larger Mediterranean world of the first four centuries. A third trajectory emerges in the medieval debate between Christians and Jews. This history of transmission demonstrates the generative potential of this Tradition, and it validates the interpretion of this gospel as a polyphonic text. Moreover, this history of transmission demonstrates that the “parting of the ways” was not an early and decisive separation into two definable religions. The first centuries of the common era saw a variety of partings in different times and various places and in diverse ways. This period also witnessed a variety of new and different engagements and appropriations. What it did not witness was the presence of Christianity and Judaism as monolithic, clearly defined traditions that dominated the religious landscape. That would come later. The first four centuries witnessed a complex and variegated process that I have defined as the forming of the ways. By the mid 4th century orthodox Christianity and rabbinic Judaism were firmly entrenched under imperial patronage, and they began to dominate the religious landscape of antiquity. The period before that, however, is crisscrossed with multiple trajectories and with many meetings and partings. A key part of the Tradition History of the Gospel of Matthew is the way it was transmitted along two distinct trajectories through that ancient landscape.

1.0 Reading a Jewish Voice in a Gentile World

299

1.0 Reading a Jewish Voice in a Gentile World The book of Acts prepares the way for reading a Jewish voice in a Gentile world. The anecdotal stories of the rejection of Paul in the various synagogues provides the occasion for a programmatic Lukan construct. For Luke, this rejection opened the way for the mission to the Gentiles in the pre-70 era. Many scholars read the Gospel of Matthew as a post-70 realization of the Lukan model. By the time of Ignatius (c. 100 ce) the church at Antioch is said to operate under a tripartite structure of bishops, elders, and deacons. While Ignatius combines various elements of Pauline and Johannine thought, scholars debate whether Ignatius knows the Gospel of Matthew or simply knows traditions like those found in the Gospel of Matthew. What Ignatius does not use in any large degree is the Hebrew scriptures. He uses a variety of materials in his attempt to frame a theological synthesis that will define the orthodoxy of “the catholic church” (Smyrneans 8.2). In this process of defining what is in the circle of Christianity, Ignatius works hard to define what is not. He battles not only docetic and gnostic lines of thought, but he also warns against those considered Judaizers.1 Whatever his connection to the Gospel of Matthew, Ignatius, early in the 2nd century, is defining an orthodox, catholic Christianity, and he is doing so in contrast to Judaism. But if anyone interpret Judaism to you do not listen to him; for it is better to hear Christianity from the circumcised than Judaism from the uncircumcised. But both of them, unless they speak of Jesus Christ, are to me tombstones and sepulchers of the dead … (Philadelpia 6.1)

Ignatius seems to debate even those who draw upon Jewish tradition as the basis for interpretation. For I heard some saying, “If I do not find it in the archives (αρχειοις), I do not believe it in the gospel.” And when I said to them, “It is written,” they replied, “That is just the issue.” But for me “the archives” are Jesus Christ; the inviolable archives are his cross and death and his resurrection and the faith which comes through him … (Philadelphia 8.2)

Ignatius appears to address an audience within the church. This is particularly true in many of his descriptions of Judaism, which are not aimed at debate, but at dismissal. It is monstrous to talk of Jesus Christ and to practice Judaism. For Christianity did not base its faith on Judaism, but Judaism on Christianity, and every tongue believing on god was brought together in it. (Magn 10.1)

It is clear, then, that with Ignatius the debate over how to interpret scripture has been elevated into a wholesale invalidation and dismissal of Judaism. 1  Such warnings are found explicitly in the works of Ignatius entitled Philadelphians and Magnesians.

300

Chapter Thirteen: The Transmission of the Gospel of Matthew

Be not led astray by strange doctrines or by old fables which are profitless. For if we are living until now according to Judaism, we confess that we have not received grace. For the divine prophets lived according to Jesus Christ. Therefore they were also persecuted, being inspired by his grace, to convince the disobedient that there is one God, who manifested himself through Jesus Christ his son, who is his Word proceeding from silence, who in all respects was well-pleasing to him that sent him. (Magn 8.1–2)

Ignatius is thus reading Jewish documents, perhaps including the Gospel of Matthew, within a Christian, anti-Jewish worldview. The emperor Julian (332–363 ce) sought to overturn the toleration of Christianity and to restore pagan practices. He likely viewed the ancient religions of paganism and Judaism as having much in common and as apt allies in his restoration; thus he also encouraged the restoration of sacrifices among the Jews. Julian made his headquarters in Antioch, and from there he made the decision to rebuild the Jerusalem Temple.2 Shortly after the failure of Julian’s restoration, Christians in Antioch began to express greater degrees of hostility to Jews. The Synagogue of the Maccabean Martyrs was seized by Christians and turned into a church. In the aftermath of this hostility, John Chrysostom preached in his native Antioch a series of eight sermons against the Jews.3 Preaching in Antioch in the 4th century ce, Chrystostom is particularly concerned about members of his congregation who are participating in Jewish festivals at the synagogue. He rails against the Jews as forsaken and evil, and he does so from the Gospel of Matthew. Another more terrible sickness beckons and our tongue must be turned to heal a disease which is flourishing in the body of the church. … What is this sickness? The festivals of the wretched and miserable Jews which follow one after another in succession – Trumpets, Booths, the Fasts – are about to take place. And many who belong to us and say that they believe in our teaching, attend their festivals, and even share in their celebrations and join in their fasts. It is this evil practice I now wish to drive from the church …. But if those who are sick with Judaism are not healed now when the Jewish festivals are “near, at the very door” (Matt 24.33), I am afraid that some, out of misguided habit and gross ignorance, will share in their transgressions.

In the process of the sermon, Chrysostom launches a verbal attack on the synagogue. It is no better than the theater, he says. It is a house of prostitution and a hideout for thieves and wild animals. “Surely they say they worship God,” says Chrysostom. “Away with such talk” he continues, “No Jew worships God.” Chrysostom then condemns the Jews through the Trinitarian formula:

2 See

the discussion in Meeks and Wilkens, Jews and Christians in Antioch, pp. 27–31.  See Meeks and Wilkens, Jews and Christians in Antioch, p. 30. Homily 1 Against the Jews is found in pp. 85–104. It has been translated from J. P. Migne, Patrologia Graeca (Paris, 1862), 48.843–846. 3

1.0 Reading a Jewish Voice in a Gentile World

301

If they are ignorant of the Father, if they crucified the Son, and spurned the aid of the Spirit, can one not declare with confidence that the synagogue is a dwelling place of demons? God is not worshipped there. Far from it! Rather the synagogue is a temple of idolatry.

Chrysostom turns again to the Gospel of Matthew for support of his attack. But it is now time to show that demons dwell in the synagogue and not only in the place but also in the souls of the Jews. “When the unclean spirit comes out, it wanders over the deserts seeking a resting place. If it finds none, it says, ‘I will go back into my own house.’ So it returns and finds the house unoccupied, swept clean and tidy. Off it goes and collects seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they all come in and in the end the man’s plight is worse than before.” This is how it will be in this generation.

Chrysostom then applies the passage specifically to the local synagogue in Antioch. Can you see that the demons inhabit their souls and that the present demons are worse than before? But that is hardly surprising. Then they sinned against the prophets; now they insult the Lord of the prophets. Tell me, how can you gather together in a place with men possessed by demons, whose spirits are so impure, and who are nurtured on slaughters and murders – how can you do this and not shudder? Instead of exchanging greetings with them and addressing one word to them, ought one not rather avoid them as a pestilence and disease spread throughout the whole world? Haven’t they been the cause of all kinds of evil? Haven’t the prophets wasted many words condemning them time after time? What kind of tragedy, what manner of lawlessness has not been hidden in the blood guiltiness?

This process of self-definition and social location is mostly completed in the 4th century ce. When Constantine becomes a patron of Christianity, the first New Testament book in the Bibles he sponsors is the Gospel of Matthew. Athanasius will list the Gospel of Matthew as the first book in the canon of the church in 367 ce, and Augustine will declare it the earliest of the gospels. As Christianity shifts toward a more exclusively Gentile church, it will privilege the Gospel of Matthew. It does so because it claims to find its own story written in the pages of the gospel, but it also claims to find there the rejection of Judaism. Under the patronage of Constantine and Theodotius, the orthodoxy of Gentile Christianity can be imposed and enforced by imperial sanction. A key element in this process of definition by Christian orthodoxy is the declaration of its own social and theological location and its attempt to redraw the map. Christianity is not Judaism, say the church fathers, and they say so through their interpretation of the Gospel of Matthew.

302

Chapter Thirteen: The Transmission of the Gospel of Matthew

2.0 Reading a Jewish Voice in a Jewish World But the Gospel of Matthew is also transmitted in antiquity along a very different trajectory. Around 100 ce Papias suggests a Hebrew original for the Gospel of Matthew. The modern analysis that canonical Matthew is a Greek composition has often led to the conclusion that Papias was wrong or misunderstood. This is not, however, a necessary conclusion; it is equally plausible that there are two traditions of the Gospel of Matthew – Greek and Hebraic – and that both are original productions. 2.1 The Concept of Hebrew Matthew Whether Hebrew Matthew is an original production or a translation, it is transmitted along its own trajectory into the center of Jewish Christianity. The testimony to its endurance and its continued significance is extensive. Jerome says that it is known, read, and preserved among the Nazarenes at Syrian Beroea. A manuscript of this gospel is said to be housed in the library at Caesarea, and Jerome says he has copied it (de vir. ill 3). Epiphanius says the Nazarenes in the Transjordan have a Hebrew Matthew (Pan. 29.9.4). Jerome claims the Ebionites also use Hebrew Matthew (in Matt. 12.13). Epiphanius says the Ebionites accept the Gospel of Matthew, but call it “according to the Hebrews” (Pan. 30.3.7). Epiphanius claims this gospel is different in several important ways: in its lack of a genealogy, in its description of Jesus’ birth, in its description of John the Baptist, in the words spoken to Jesus at his baptism, and in Jesus’ rejection of meat (Pan. 30.13.6–7; 30.14.3–4; 30.22.4). Epiphanius also says the Cerinthians makes use the Gospel of Matthew, believing the genealogy demonstrates the natural birth of Jesus (Pan. 28.5.1).4 Cerinthians are said to quote Mt 10.24–25 in support of circumcision (Pan. 28.5.1–2). Symmachus appears to incur the wrath of patristic writers because of his commentary, which interprets the Gospel of Matthew in light of the Hebrew Bible. This tradition may also be related to the Gospel of the Nazoreans. Modern scholarship has partially reconstructed the Gospel of the Nazoreans on the basis of patristic citations and marginal notes in New Testament manuscripts. The length and general content approximate that of canonical Matthew. Its impact can be traced from Eusebius in the 3rd century up to marginal references in biblical manuscripts as late as the 13th century. This reconstructed text is very likely the one mentioned by Jerome and Epiphanius in association with Syrian Beroea. Thus, the concept of a Hebrew Matthew has an extraordinary history that continues into the medieval period.5 The idea of a Hebrew Matthew is articulated  The use of Matthew is echoed in Filaster, div. her. liber 36. an overview see George Howard, Hebrew Gospel of Matthew.

4

5 For

2.0 Reading a Jewish Voice in a Jewish World

303

by Papias (in Eusebius, HE 3.39.16), by Irenaeus (Adversus Haereses 3.1.1), by Origen (in Eusebius, HE 6.25.4); by Eusebius (HE 3.24.6); by Jerome; and by Epiphanius. In later centuries Hebrew Matthew begins to play a role in Jewish and anti-Christian writings. Excerpts from the Gospel of Matthew are quoted in Hebrew in the Book of Nestor (c. 6th to 9th century); in the Milhamot HaShem of Jacob Reuben (1170 ce); in Sepher Joseph Hamekane by rabbi Joseph ben Nathan Official (from the 13th century ce); and by the Nizzahon Vetus (latter 13th century).6 The earliest known complete Hebrew text of the Gospel of Matthew is preserved in a 14th century treatise entitled Even Bohan.7 Hebrew versions of Matthew were published by Sebastian Münster in 1537 and by Jean du Tillet in 1555, both claiming to be based on texts received from contemporary Jews. The Gospel of Matthew takes a unique course in the East. In its Syriac form, it plays a key role in the churches associated with Edessa and with India. These communities also speak of their connections to Antioch. Jewish traditions of interpretation pervade the Syriac Christian materials. It is not possible to connect these various testimonies about a Hebrew Matthew into a single line of tradition. What is noteworthy, however, is that the idea of a Hebraic gospel has such vitality and endurance and that such a tradition develops around no other gospel. This makes it quite clear that the Gospel of Matthew was transmitted along two distinct trajectories. Greek Matthew circulated in a variety of Christian communities and was taken into the canon of the Greater Church. It is possible, though certainly not proven, that Hebrew Matthew was also an original production. Whatever its origins, the tradition of a Hebrew Matthew may be traced through various Jewish Christian communities and possibly into the communities of the East. Lines of continuity with the versions of Matthew used in some medieval synagogues is plausible, but this is difficult to demonstrate. I have argued in Jewish Ways of Following Jesus that Jewish Christianity existed in various places and times and ways throughout the first four centuries. It is clear that some Hebraic version of the Gospel of Matthew played a central role in almost all forms of Jewish Christianity. 2.2 The Jewish Gospel Traditions The Jewish Christian gospels have a unique connection to the Gospel of Matthew. While earlier scholarship believed all of the patristic notices pointed to the same Jewish Christian gospel, recent scholarship typically speaks of three

 These passages are discussed by Howard, Hebrew Gospel of Matthew, pp. 160–61.  Howard disputes the usual interpretation that this represents a translation of the Vulgate version of Matthew. 6 7

304

Chapter Thirteen: The Transmission of the Gospel of Matthew

distinct gospels.8 These have been labeled and reconstructed as the Gospel of the Nazoreans, the Gospel of the Ebionites, and the Gospel of the Hebrews.9 2.2.1 The Gospel of the Ebionites The Gospel of the Ebionites has the following characteristics: 1. This gospel knows the synoptic gospels  – Matthew, Mark, Luke 2. Its verbal agreement with synoptic passages and its description of the diet of John the Baptist suggest it was written in Greek10 3. It exhibits a tendency to harmonize accounts from the synoptic gospels 4. The Gospel of the Ebionites shows some of the exotic theology found also in the Pseudo-Clementine materials, presumably in the Periodoi Petrou and the Anabathmoi Iakobou 5. Epiphanius associates this gospel with the area of the Transjordan.

The Gospel of the Ebionites is a Greek text known to Epiphanius and he connects it to Jewish Christian sects in the Transjordan. For content, it draws in part upon the synoptic gospels, harmonizing their portraits. Its theology, however, seems to include a mix of ideas. The time frame for the Gospel of the Ebionites falls between canonical Matthew (80–90 ce) and its appearance in the writings of Epiphanius (315–402/403 ce). The role of Matthew is clarified in this gospel more explicitly than in the Gospel of Matthew. The Gospel which is called with them according to Matthew which is not complete but falsified and distorted, they call it the Hebrew Gospel and in it can be found: There was a man called Jesus, about thirty years old, who chose us. And he came to Caphernaum, he entered the house of Simon, also called Peter, and opened his mouth and said: When I went by the sea of Tiberias I chose John and James, the sons of Zebedee, and Simon and Andrew and Thaddaeus and Simon the Zealot and Judas the Iskariot and you Matthew, who was sitting at the custom-house; I called and you followed me. I wish you to be twelve apostles for the testimony to Israel. (Pan. 30.13.2–3)

Hosea 6.6, which is found only twice in the New Testament (Mt 9.13; 12.7), is used in the Gospel of the Ebionites.

 8 Access to the critical discussion may be gained through New Testament Apocrypha, vol. 1, Gospels and Related Writings; A. F. J.  Klijn, Jewish-Christian Gospel Tradition (Leiden: Brill, 1992). A short summary may be found in James Carleton Paget, “Jewish Christianity,” in The Cambridge History of Judaism, vol. 3 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), pp. 764–66. An accessible version of the texts may be found in Bart Ehrman, Lost Scriptures: Books That Did Not Make It Into the New Testament (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003).  9 Full discussion and the reconstructed texts can be found in Broadhead, Jewish Ways of Following Jesus, pp. 254–267. 10  The change of a single letter in the Greek word for locusts (ἀγκρίς) may result in the term for honey cakes (ἐγκρίς).

2.0 Reading a Jewish Voice in a Jewish World

305

As their Gospel mentioned above shows: I have come to abolish sacrifices and if you do not stop sacrificing the wrath will not cease from you. (Pan. 30.16.5).11

Thus, the Gospel of the Ebionites drew from various sources, but it shows a special interest in the character of Matthew, and it used Hosea 6.6 in a way known in the New Testament only in the Gospel of Matthew. While this is a partial reconstruction, it appears that some pieces of the Gospel of Matthew have been transmitted through this tradition. 2.2.2 The Gospel According to the Hebrews Several traits characterize the Gospel according to the Hebrews. 1. There is no sign of dependence on any canonical gospel, nor on any other Jewish Christian gospel. 2. There is, at least in the fragments, a high density of sayings material. Individual sayings are found in multiple forms and across a variety of texts. 3. The fragments suggest a theology influenced by Jewish, Hellenistic, and Gnostic traditions. 4. The name of the gospel likely distinguishes it from one or more gospels used by Gentile Christians in the same locale. 5. Since the majority of works containing fragments of this gospel are from Alexandria (Clement, Origen, Didymus), the Gospel according to the Hebrews is most likely of Egyptian orgin. The theology of the gospel also seems compatible with this location.

The Gospel according to the Hebrews may be used as early as Papias (early 2nd century), but the first clear attestation is with Clement of Alexandria (around 150 ce). References to this gospel appear in a chain of Latin medieval writers stretching from Jerome to the 12th century, with particular favor among English and Irish texts.12 The Gospel according to the Hebrews is likely of Egyptian origin and was probably described in this manner to distinguish it from other texts.13 The length of the gospel is given by Nicephorus, who was Patriarch of Constantinople from 806–815 ce. According to his Stichometry, the Gospel according to the Hebrews had 2200 lines, while the Gospel of Matthew had 2500.14 The content and theology of the Gospel according to the Hebrews set it apart from canonical gospels and from other Jewish Christian gospels. 11 Apparently

listed incorrectly by Klijn as 30.14.5.  These texts are discussed in Klijn, Jewish-Christian Gospel Tradition, pp. 20–25 and in Jörg Frey, “Fragmente judenchristlicher Evangelien,” in Antike Christliche Apokryphen I: Evangelien, ed. Christoph Markschies and Jens Schröter (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), pp. 560–660. 13  Clement of Alexandria also quotes from a Gospel according to the Egyptians. Walter Bauer, Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity, trans. and ed. R. A. Kraft, et al. (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977 [1st German edition, 1934]), pp. 50–53, thinks the title of the Gospel according to the Hebrews arose to distinguish it from the Gospel according to the Egyptians. 14  This is noted by Philipp Vielhauer and Georg Strecker, “Jewish-Christian Gospels,” in New Testament Apocrypha, pp. 41–42, 172. 12

306

Chapter Thirteen: The Transmission of the Gospel of Matthew

2.2.3 The Gospel of the Nazoreans The Gospel of the Nazoreans has strong affinities with the Gospel of Matthew. It is distinguished by several characteristics. 1. It is associated with the Jewish Christian Nazoreans of Syrian Beroea 2. It is written in Aramaic or Syriac 3. This gospel is essentially an Aramaic version of the Gospel of Matthew.

A variety of fragments have been assigned to the Gospel of the Nazoreans. Remnants of the text may be found in Jerome, in Origen, and in Eusebius. Remnants are also found in five gospel manuscripts that have marginal references to a collection of Jewish Christian texts known as To Ioudaïkon. Some of these marginal notes point to textual difficulties, some offer alternative readings, and others provide lengthy additions.15 The list of fragments attributed to the Gospel of the Nazoreans has reached a rather standardized form.16 It is clear that this gospel stands in a trajectory with the canonical Gospel of Matthew.   1. Origen Commentary on Matthew 15.14  2. Eusebius Theophaneia, 4.22  3. Eusebius Theophaneia 4.12   4. Jerome Commentary on Matthew 6.11   5. Jerome Commentary on Matthew 12.13   6. Jerome Commentary on Matthew 23.35   7. Jerome Commentary on Matthew 27.16   8. Jerome Commentary on Matthew 27.51  9. Jerome Against the Pelagians 3.2 (part one) 10. Jerome Against the Pelagians 3.2 (part two) 11. Variant Readings in the To Ioudaïkon collection Matthew 4.5 in MS 566 Matthew 5.22 in MS 1424 Matthew 7.5 in MS 1424 Matthew 10.16 in MS 1424 Matthew 11.12 in MS 1424 15 The nature of the marginal notes is discussed by Klijn, Jewish-Christian Gospel Tradition, p. 25. 16  A common list is shared by Vielhauer and Strecker, by Klijn, and by Ehrmann. The only exception is that Vielhauer and Strecker add the notice from Jerome in ad vir. ill 3. Here Jerome notes that the Gospel of the Nazoreans quotes from a Hebrew version of the Old Testament. Jerome says that use of the Hebrew version of the Old Testament explains two citations that Matthew seems to attribute to the Old Testament (“Out of Egypt have I called my son” and “For he shall be called a Nazarene”). It is not clear, however, that Jerome says these verses come from the Gospel of the Nazarenes. He may only mean that those who understand Hebrew vocabulary and grammar and read the Hebrew Bible can comprehend why Matthew would make these two statements about Jesus. Jörg Frey accepts the same ten units of text with three variations: 1) Jerome has two versions of the report on Mt 6.11 and two versions of the report on Mt 27.51; 2) Origen’s commentary on Mt 5.14 is placed at the end of the list; 3) Frey also lists some fifteen traditions from the medieval period. The order given here is that of Ehrman.

2.0 Reading a Jewish Voice in a Jewish World



307

Matthew 11.25 in MS 1424 Matthew 12.40 in MS 899 Matthew 15.5 in MS 1424 Matthew 16.2 – 3 in MS 1424 Matthew 16.17 in MS 566 Matthew 18.22 in MSS 566, 899 Matthew 26.74 in MSS 4, 273, 899, 1414 Matthew 27.65 in MS 1424

The reconstruction and translation of Bart Ehrman is given below.17 The Gospel of the Nazoreans 1. It is written in a certain Gospel that is called “according to the Hebrews” (if in any event anyone is inclined to accept it, not as an authority, but to shed some light on the question we have posed) that another rich man asked [Jesus], “Master, what good thing must I do to have life?” He replied to him, “O man, you should keep the law and the prophets.” He responded, “I have already done that.” Jesus said to him, “Go sell all that you have and distribute the proceeds to the poor; then come, follow me.” But the rich man began to scratch his head, for he was not pleased. And the Lord said to him, “How can you say, ‘I have kept the law and the prophets?’ For it is written in the law, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ But look, many of your brothers, sons of Abraham, are clothed in excrement and dying of hunger while your house is filled with many good things, not one of which goes forth to these others.” He turned and said to his disciple Simon, sitting beside him, “Simon, son of Jonah, it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Origen, Commentary on Matthew, 15.14) 2. [Cf. Matt. 25.14–30] For the Gospel that has come down to us in Hebrew letters makes the threat not against the one who hid the (master’s) money but against the one who engaged in riotous living. For [the master] had three slaves, one who used up his fortune with whores and flute-players, one who invested the money and increased its value, and one who hid it. The first was welcomed with open arms, the second was blamed, and only the third was locked up in prison. (Eusebius, Theophania, 4.22) 3. But [the Lord] taught about the reason for the division of the souls in the houses, as we have found somewhere in the Gospel used by the Jews and written in Hebrew, where he says, “I will choose for myself those who are good – those given me by my Father in heaven.” (Eusebius, Theophania, 4.12) 4. In the Gospel that is called “according to the Hebrews,” for the words, “bread to sustain our lives” I found the word “mahar,” which means “[bread] for tomorrow.” (Jerome, Commentary on Matthew, 6.11) 5. In the Gospel that the Nazareans and Ebionites use, which I recently translated from Hebrew into Greek, and which most people consider the authentic version of Matthew, the man with a withered hand is described as a mason, who sought for help in words like these: “I was a mason who made a living with my hands; I beseech you, Jesus, restore my 17 Bart

Ehrman, Lost Scriptures, pp. 10–11.

308

Chapter Thirteen: The Transmission of the Gospel of Matthew

health so I do not have to beg for food shamefully.” (Jerome, Commentary in Matthew, 12.13) 6. In the Gospel the Nazareans use, we find “son of Johoida” instead of “son of Barachia.” (Jerome, Commentary on Matthew, 23.35) 7. The name of that one (i. e. Barabbas) is interpreted to mean “son of their master” in the Gospel written according to the Hebrews. (Jerome, Commentary on Matthew, 27.16) 8. In the Gospel we have often referred to, we read that, “the enormous lintel of the temple was broken and split apart.” (Jerome, Commentary on Matthew, 27.51). 9. In the Gospel according to the Hebrews, which was actually written in the Chaldean or Syriac language but with Hebrew letters, which the Nazareans still use today and which is the Gospel according to the Apostles, or, as most believe, according to Matthew  – a Gospel that can also be found in the library of Caesarea – the following story is found: “Behold, the mother of the Lord and his brothers were saying to him, ‘John the Baptist is baptizing for the remission of sins. Let us go and be baptized by him.’ But he replied to them, ‘What sin have I committed that I should go to be baptized by him? Unless possibly what I just said was spoken in ignorance.’” (Jerome, Against the Pelagians, 3.2) 10. And in the same volume the following is found: “ [Jesus] said, ‘If your brother sins by speaking a word against you, but then makes it up to you, you should accept him seven times a day.’ His disciple Simon said to him, ‘Seven times in a day?’ The Lord responded, ‘Yes indeed, I tell you  – even up to seventy times seven! For even among the prophets, after they were anointed by the Holy Spirit, a word of sin was found.’” (Jerome, Against the Pelagians, 3.2) 11. Variant Readings Noted in New Testament Manuscripts On Matthew 4.5 The Jewish Gospel does not have, “into the holy city,” but “in Jerusalem.” (MS 566) On Matthew 5.22 The words “without cause” are not present in some copies, nor in the Jewish Gospel. (MS 1424) On Matthew 7.5 In this place the Jewish Gospel reads: “Even if you are resting on my breast but do not do the will of my Father in heaven, I will cast you away from my breast.” (MS 1424). On Matthew 10.16 The Jewish Gospel says, “more than serpents.” (MS 1424) On Matthew 11.12 The Jewish Gospel reads, “plunders.” (MS 1424) On Matthew 11.25 The Jewish Gospel says, “I give you thanks.” (MS 1424) On Matthew 12.40 The Jewish Gospel does not read, “Three days and three nights.” (MS 899). On Matthew 15.5 The Jewish Gospel says, “That which you would have had as a benefit from us is now an offering [to the Temple?].” (MS 1424) On Matthew 16.2 – 3

2.0 Reading a Jewish Voice in a Jewish World

309

The passages marked with an asterisk are not set forth in other copies, nor in the Jewish Gospel. (MS 1424) On Matthew 16.17 The Jewish Gospel says, “son of John.” (MS 566) On Matthew 18.22 After the words “seventy times seven” the Jewish Gospel reads: “For even among the prophets, after they were anointed by the Holy Spirit, a word of sin was found.” (MSS 566, 899) On Matthew 26.74 The Jewish Gospel says, “And he made a denial, and swore, and cursed.” (MSS 4, 273, 899, 1414) On Matthew 27.65 The Jewish Gospel says, “And he gave them armed men to sit opposite the cave, to keep watch over it day and night.” (MS 1424)

To summarize the evidence, the Gospel of the Nazoreans is the most transparent piece of the Jewish Gospel tradition. It can be placed in a specific location (Syrian Beroea), its language is known (Aramaic or Syriac), and its origin can be assigned a broad time frame (from the time of the Gospel of Matthew, 80–90 ce, until the first mention by Hegesippus in the late 2nd century). The length and general content of the Gospel of the Nazoreans can be expected to approximate that of the Gospel of Matthew.18 The Jewish focus of the gospel is clear from the concern for “your brothers, sons of Abraham” (Origen, in Matt. 15.14). The record of its impact extends from Eusebius in the late 3rd century up to marginal references in manuscripts of the 13th century. The connection of the Gospel of the Nazoreans to canonical Matthew is secure. Indeed, Jeromes says that this is the gospel that “most people consider the authentic version of Matthew.” As a consequence, two Jewish Christian gospels – that of the Ebionites and that of the Nazoreans – represent a key trajectory in the transmission history of the Gospel of Matthew. The Jewish gospel tradition is employed and conflated in the heresiology of the patristic writers, but it is not likely that this tradition originated in their rhetoric. It is more plausible that these writings typify an ancient and enduring tradition that they found difficult to answer and impossible to suppress. Most significantly, the larger part of this tradition is consistently linked to the Gospel of Matthew. 2.3 A Jewish Christian Hermeutic Jewish Christians transmitted various forms of the Gospel of Matthew. Beyond this issue of content, Jewish Christians also developed a hermeneutic for interpretation of scripture, and they likely did so in debate with other Christian 18 Marginal

notes are known for passages as early as Mt 4.5 and as late as Mt 27.65.

310

Chapter Thirteen: The Transmission of the Gospel of Matthew

groups. Two passages in particular seems to frame the foundational claim of Jewish Christianity, and both come from the Gospel of Matthew. 2.3.1 Matthew 10.24–25: A Servant Like the Master There is a strong historical probability that Jewish Christians defended their faith and their practices by citing a saying of Jesus found at Mt 10.24–25: A disciple is not above the teacher, nor the slave above the master. It is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master.

Pseudo-Tertullian is the first to note the Ebionite use of Mt 10.24: “And because it is written ‘No disciple is above (his) master, nor a servant above (his) lord,’ he brings to the fore likewise the Law, of course for the purpose of excluding the gospel and vindicating Judaism” (adv. omn. haer. 3). The “servant like the master” text is also used by Pseudo-Hieronymus (indic. de haer. 10). Epiphanius says the Cerinthians employ a saying that “it is sufficient for the disciple to be like the teacher” (Pan. 28.5.1). Epiphanius says the Ebionites use this passage to defend their practice of circumcision (Pan. 30.26.2 and 30.33.4). In addition to these citations, various claims to imitate Jesus seem to allude to Mt 10.24–25. Origen (185–253/254 ce) says that Ebionites celebrate Easter on the day of Jewish Passover, using unleavened bread. In doing so they claim to be imitating Christ (in Matth. comm. ser. 79). Eusebius implies that Ebionites observe the Law in imitation of Christ (HE 3.27.2). Not only is this saying evoked by different writers; they tend to connect it to a variety of practices. Origen connects it to Jewish Christian celebration of Passover, Epiphanius links it to circumcision, Pseudo-Tertullian ties it to vindicating Judaism, Eusebius connects it to the observance of the Law, Cerinthians are said to link it to circumcision and the Law. This means that the use of Mt 10.24–25 has multiple attestation among patristic writers, but also multiple use. Thus, the saying is both polyphonic and polyvalent. In addition to this multiple attestation and this variegated use, the criterion of dissimilarity is also applicable to this saying, as is the criterion of embarassment. Patristic writers find it difficult to refute the claim that Jewish Christians are doing what Jesus did, yet they persist in the effort. By all critical standards of analysis, it is highly unlikely that this is a patristic invention. Some Jewish Christians claimed that their practices – especially circumcision, their observance of Passover, and their obedience to the Law – are done in conscious imitation of Jesus, and they supported this claim by citation of or reference to Mt 10.24–25. This is the most certifiable piece of historical data in all of the patristic representation of Jewish Christianity.

3.0 A Jewish Voice in a Medieval Debate

311

2.3.2 Matthew 10.5–6: The Lost Sheep of the House of Israel Origen (de princ. 4.3.8) notes that some Jewish Christians cite the words of Jesus from Mt 10.5–6: “Do not go into a path of the Gentiles and do not enter into a city of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.” Although there is no multiple attestation for this reference, the criterion of dissimilarity and the criterion of embarrassment do apply. The lack of attestation may be due to the inability of patristic writers to deny that, according to the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus did in fact say this. Patristic writers cannot answer this Jewish Christian claim, and they certainly did not invent it. Consequently, there is a high degree of probability that Mt 10.5–6 also formed a part of the rhetorical inventory of some Jewish Christians.

3.0 A Jewish Voice in a Medieval Debate The Gospel of Matthew emerges as the central text in an extended debate between Jews and Christians in the medieval era. Some aspects and components of this debate may have connections to antiquity, while other components and texts are generated within this dialectical engagement between Judaism and Christianity in the medieval era.19 More that one hundred texts have been identified as participants and contributors to this extended debate.20 The major lines of tradition fall into two categories by language and location. The earliest known text, Quiṣṣat Mujādalat al-Usquf, is composed in Judeo-Arabic. It most plausible that this text was written in an Arabic-speaking environment somewhere in the 9th century ce, though some materials within the text may be as early as the 6th century.21 Most of the thirty or so manuscripts for this tradition were found in the Cairo synagogue genizah. A Hebrew version of the Quiṣṣa text is known from 1170 under the title of Sefer Nestor ha-Komer (the Book of Nestor the Priest). Christoph Ochs notes that the “primary strategy is to challenge Christian convictions about the divinity of Jesus by emphasizing his humanity.”22 This is done mostly by pointing out contradictions within the gospels. The Quiṣṣa/Nestor tradition presents two major lines of argumentation: 1) Jesus is the Christ or Messiah who lived in obedience to the Torah – his obedience thus shows that he is not the giver of the Law 19 See the discussion and analysis in Christoph Ochs, Matthaeus Adversus Christianos: The Use of the Gospel of Matthew in Jewish Polemics Against the Divinity of Jesus (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013). 20 Ochs, Mattheaus Adversus Christianos, p. 18, note 58. 21  See the discussion in Ochs, Mattheaus Adversus Christianos, pp. 29–90, especially pp. 29– 34. 22 Ochs, Mattheaus Adversus Christianos, p. 38.

312

Chapter Thirteen: The Transmission of the Gospel of Matthew

and he is not God; 2) Jesus is shown in the gospels as a human, and no human can be God. Portions of the tradition speak positively of Jesus as the Messiah/Christ and of his role as a messenger, servant, and prophet. Ochs concludes that “it is, therefore, possible that some kind of Christian source underlies this particular section, a source which held Jesus to be the Messiah and perhaps endorsed the virginal birth, but not Jesus’ divinity.”23 Because of this stance, some have suggested this is Jewish Christian material. The text is presented as the testimony of a former priest on the reasons he has now embraced Judaism. The orthodox understandings of divine incarnation and the divinity of Jesus are challenged primarily through arguments drawn from the Gospel of Matthew and other parts of the New Testament, but also from apocryphal writings.24 While the Quiṣṣat Mujādalat al-Usquf originates in an Arabic-speaking landscape and is composed in Judeo-Arabic dialect, a second line of tradition will emerge upon a European landscape, and it is composed in Hebrew. Ochs identifies the Milḥamot ha-Shem of Jacob ben Reuben, a Hebraic text from 1170 ce from France or Spain as “the first extant Jewish polemics composed in Western Europe.”25 Ochs analyzes ten other texts that follow in this second line of tradition, and he finds common patterns of argumentation. Among the most significant of these is the 14th century ce work entitled Evan Bohan.26 In this work Shem Tov responds to the various ways in which Christians use the Torah, the prophets, and other writings. He then he discusses particular passages from the Talmud and from midrash that Christians use to argue that Jesus is the Jewish Messiah.27 In addition to this testimony to Christian apologetic strategies, Shem Tov provides a Hebrew translation of the Gospel of Matthew, accompanied by 58 notes of commentary and critique. Even Bohan was apparently a popular and useful text; it appeared in the following years in a number of different editions with various revisions and additions.28 Ochs notes that this polemic tradition spans about a thousand years and ranges from the Middle East to Southern, Western, and Eastern Europe. The primary text for this Jewish rhetorical tradition was some form or tradition of the Gospel of Matthew (along with other New Testament texts), and the primary argument was against the divinity of Jesus.29 Ochs does not believe this is an accident. He insists,

 Ochs, Mattheaus Adversus Christianos, p. 54. Ochs, Mattheaus Adversus Christianos, p. 90. 25  Mattheaus Adversus Christianos, pp. 91–92. The Milḥamot ha-Shem tradition is discussed on pp. 91–126. 26 This tradition is discussed by Ochs in Mattheaus Adversus Christianos, pp. 209–56 27  See Ochs, Mattheaus Adversus Christianos, p. 210. 28  Ochs, Mattheaus Adversus Christianos, p. 210. 29 Ochs’ conclusions are to be found in Mattheaus Adversus Christianos, pp. 317–40. 23

24 See

3.0 A Jewish Voice in a Medieval Debate

313

That Matthew has such a foremost position in Jewish polemics is not a coincidence and not just predicated by the importance Matthew has for Christians. Historically, the Gospel of Matthew functioned as a bridge over which the Jewish-Christian discourse was mediated, whether as avenue for respectful dialogue, for playful parody, or sharp polemical attack.30

Ochs notes that this larger interpretive tradition has a consistent attitude about the nature of Jesus and about the ethos of the Gospel of Matthew. To my knowledge not one of the Jewish apologists and polemicists surveyed here has argued that Matthew is anti-Jewish, or that this was the case for Jesus, to the contrary. This is even more noteworthy since many of their Christian contemporaries were not particularly positive minded toward Jews, and the argument would have been easy to make, especially in a genre of writings that for the most part was inaccessible to non-Jews. Instead, the Jewish reading often stressed that Jesus was (relatively) Jewish, a monotheist (someone who prayed to God), upheld the Law (Matt 5:17–19) etc., and that later Christians and church interpreters moved away from these Jewish moorings ….31

For Ochs, this attempt to use the Gospel of Matthew to counter various Christian doctrines (canon vs. creed) foreshadows the emergence of critical studies of the Bible and historical Jesus studies.32 Thus, a distinct trajectory can be traced for the Gospel of Matthew in the Jewish-Christian polemics of the medieval era. There are three possible explanations for the origins and identity of the medieval form of the Gospel of Matthew that appears in these debates, and it is likely that all three avenues have contributed in some way. First, it is possible that some elements of this medieval, Hebraic tradition are drawn from antiquity. The efforts of George Howard to demonstrate these connections in a rather comprehensive way have not been well-received, but there are some portions of his argument that cannot be easily dismissed.33 Moreover, it is clear that the medieval tradition draws upon earlier sources and that some of these have a positive view of Jesus and of the Gospel of Matthew.34 Secondly, it is possible that rabbis translated an existing form of the Gospel of Matthew, likely the Latin Vulgate, into Hebrew. They would have done so to familiarize their colleagues with the terms of Christian claims, but also to better arm themselves for debate.35 Beyond this, it is plausible that such translations were a part of establishing and maintaining Jewish identity in some circles: the text would help to define and to demonstrate how Jews were different than the prevailing Christian culture.

 Ochs, Mattheaus Adversus Christianos, p. 318.  Ochs, Mattheaus Adversus Christianos, p. 317, note 1. 32 Ochs, Mattheaus Adversus Christianos, pp. 317–20. 33  George Howard, Hebrew Gospel of Matthew. 34  Ochs typically refers to these as heterodox Christian views and texts. 35 Some of which were forced. 30 31

314

Chapter Thirteen: The Transmission of the Gospel of Matthew

Thirdly, there is a possibility that Jewish teachers took over texts of the Gospel of Matthew that Christian clerics had themselves translated into Hebrew.36 For the Christians who translated them, such texts would be a tool in the effort to convert Jews to Christianity, and Jewish teachers would have employed them to arm themselves against such proselytizing. With this medieval tradition, the lines of transmission for the Gospel of Matthew appear to come full circle. If the medieval rabbis or the medieval priests translated the Gospel of Matthew into Hebrew, they likely did so from a Latin exemplar, and this itself had been translated from a Greek tradition. It is perhaps ironic, then, to return to the comments of Papias, who said that Matthew wrote the sayings of the Lord in Hebrew, then each one translated them as best they could. Whatever the lines of translation and transmission that led to the medieval Hebrew Matthew, it is clear this represents a unique epoch and distinct trajectory in the transmission history of this gospel. In the medieval era as in the ancient world, the Gospel of Matthew is an oeuvre mouvante – a work in process.

4.0 Conclusion I have argued that the Gospel of Matthew is built upon a host of competing traditions and voices. With its messianic interpretation of Jewish Law and its concept of the coming Kingdom, the Gospel of Matthew generates from these traditions it own voice and its own claims. The vision of the Gospel of Matthew thus represents a distinct Jewish voice in a conflicted Jewish world. The mouvance demonstrated in the composition history of the Gospel of Matthew continues in its history of transmission. This chapter shows how this Jewish voice was projected in two very different ways across the landscape of antiquity. These two trajectories – canonical Matthew and Hebrew Matthew – played a key role in the formative era of two religious traditions. The generative potential of this process is further illustrated in the medieval era, where a Hebraic form of the Gospel of Matthew played a central role in a millennium of Jewish-Christian dialogue and debate. The Gospel of Matthew was thus shaped by the world of conflict from which it emerged, but it also played a key role in the shaping of that landscape.

36 Suggested

by Ochs, Mattheaus Adversus Christianos, p. 218.

Chapter 14

Conclusion The Gospel of Matthew provides a window through which to observe the composition and transmission of ancient texts. Such analysis can also bring insight into the way texts play a role in the construction of identity and into the process by which a group of people seeks to establish its place on the map. In order to pose these questions I have consciously stepped away from the image of Matthew as an intentional author in control of the material. There are important reasons for doing so. First, we do not have access to a continuous text of the Gospel of Matthew from its time of writing.1 Secondly, this means that we do not have access to the profile or intent of an author. Thirdly, I have argued that the key to a text like the Gospel of Matthew does not lie primarily in authorial design and intent. The generative potential of such texts both precedes and outlives any author’s work. Moreover, the Gospel of Matthew reflects many layers of redactional activity. Thus, I have argued that the larger history of the tradition holds the key to the way in which this gospel was composed and transmitted. More importantly, the Tradition History is a part of the essential identity of this text and the way in which it functions. I have thus investigated the Gospel of Matthew as an oeuvre mouvante – as a Living Tradition. While I do not here attempt here a full commentary or a comprehensive literary analysis of the Gospel of Matthew, I have employed a formalistic approach in order to illustrate this process. This strategy brackets out, at least temporarily, the noise of external factors in order to ask what the text contains and how it operates. A narrative grammar can provide a roadmap to the text and its world, and it is reasonable that such an analysis should precede any line of investigation. I have consistently sought to place this formalistic analysis into a history of traditions (traditionsgeschichtliche) context. I have insisted throughout that the Gospel of Matthew should be read in the light of the process through which it was composed and transmitted. Such an approach can change the way we read this gospel, but it may also impact our understanding of what the gospel is and how it operates. 1 The Gospel of Matthew is likely written in the last decades of the first century ce. Our nearest continuous text is some 250 years after the time of writing. In between lie about a dozen manuscript fragments containing some 28 % of the verses and even less of the total content.

316

Chapter 14: Conclusion

1.0 Overview Chapter One looked at the way concern for Matthew as author has dominated the history of research. Whether posed as apostle, evangelist, editor, or literary genius, the text and its operations have been understood through the design and intent of a figure named Matthew. These scholarly constructs are based on traits of the text, but they also exert a strong control over how the text is read and interpreted. A brief survey of research illustrated how this approach produces contradictory views on the central questions about this gospel. In Chapter Two, I showed how this contradiction is not simply the product of academic discourse, but that it roots in the text itself. The Gospel of Matthew is marked by disjunction, conflict, and contradiction. This is true in its structural framework, it is true of its conceptual world, and it is true in its linguistic profile. This conflict and contradiction are not peripheral, but rather are rooted in the heart of the story – in the words and deeds of Jesus and in the profile of his followers. The result is a story that is marked by lines of coherence, but also by conflict, chaos, and contradiction. The end of the chapter assessed the consequences of this profile for any understanding of the text, its author, its composition, its identity, and its history. Chapter Three looked at the traits that suggest a text should be labeled oeuvre mouvante – a work in process. These traits are: authorial anonymity, collective rewriting, influence from oral tradition, and textual changes for changing audiences or functions. These concepts were shown to be relevant to such biblical materials as the Qumran scrolls and the Jesus tradition. After some adaptation, these concepts were used to consider the particular nature of the Gospel of Matthew as a Living Tradition – a text with variability and viability. Chapter Four considered the quality and the role of manuscripts. The difficulty of moving from our current texts back to the author and the time of writing was demonstrated. The manuscript tradition was then reconsidered for its potential as a witness to the Tradition History. Comparison with other literary traditions demonstrated the key role this process plays in the identity and function of a text. Chapter Five explored tools to facilitate this fundamental realignment in how one investigates a text and its tradition. Primary attention was given to the way in which a work or Tradition is expressed in a sequence of Texts and to the process by which these texts are born in manuscripts. Chapter Six continued this methodological assessment with a particular focus on tools appropriate for the Gospel of Matthew. In light of the formal profile of this gospel, attention was given to the role of sources, traditions, and tradents. The central thesis that emerged is that the Gospel of Matthew is a Living Tradition with extraordinary generative potential, and it can only be understood through the larger process of its composition, transmission, and development.

1.0 Overview

317

Chapter Seven began the investigation of the Gospel of Matthew as a Living Tradition. The first step in this investigation is a focus on composition history. The Gospel of Matthew has appropriated a wide variety of source materials. I argued that these materials are themselves traditions with their own voice and their own view of reality. I demonstrated that the Gospel of Matthew is constituted around competing traditions, and the confluence of these traditions does not silence their voices: no editor, author, or scribe has resolved the conflicts and contradictions within the Matthean orbit. I argued further that this gathering of traditions is not simply a genealogical or a collective process. This compositional process, centered around competing traditions, holds extraordinary generative potential, and it is a key component of the identity and function of this gospel. Chapter Eight showed how Living Traditions like the Gospel of Matthew frame a context for their story. This chapter investigated the formal processes through which this gospel projects a sense of time and place and values. The Gospel of Matthew presents its story of Jesus in the context of conflict and contradiction. This is true not only in the content of the story, but also in the backdrop and the staging of that story. These tensions are not resolved within the landscape of the gospel. Chapter Nine took the initial steps toward locating the Gospel of Matthew in a historical framework. Particular attention was given to the period before and after the destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple in 70 ce. This period is projected in ancient literature in varied and contradictory ways, and scholarship is deeply divided over how to reconstruct the events and the impact of this era. I suggested that the various attempts to impose a grand narrative upon the period are each challenged by the reality of the details on the ground. Chapter Ten explored how the Gospel of Matthew is a Living Tradition in its transmission history. Attention was given not only to the line of manuscripts through which the text was handed on, but also to the way in which texts are changed and developed through this process. Particular attention was given to the way in which the Gospel of Matthew developed along two different trajectories representing distinct linguistic and theological traditions. Thus, the transmission history is a dynamic one, and it too is marked by competing traditions and conflicting voices. Chapter Eleven described an ideological map of the ancient landscape. It considered the generative role of dialectical lines of engagement – conflict and collaboration – in establishing a group’s identity and its place on the map. Attention was given to how groups define and locate themselves in relation to traditions, historical realities, and the claims of other groups. Three perspectives were considered: the Mediterranean world, Palestine, and the local context of the Gospel of Matthew. Chapter Twelve sought to bring these various analyses together to ask how the Gospel of Matthew operates as a Living Tradition on the historical and

318

Chapter 14: Conclusion

ideological landscape of antiquity. I argued that the competing voices within the Gospel of Matthew are primarily, if not exclusively, Jewish. I insisted that this was also true of the resulting narrative: the Gospel of Matthew creates a Jewish voice in and through a world of Jewish conflict. Central to this production is the concluding vision of a Jewish messianic hope with cosmological dimensions. I argued that this not-yet-realized hope is rooted in the vision of Isaiah 66 and articulated in the command of Jesus, the risen Messiah. Chapter Thirteen traced the development of the Gospel of Matthew along three distinct trajectories. Two trajectories  – canonical Matthew and Hebrew Matthew  – were shaped by the world of conflict from which they arose, and both played a key role in the formative period of rabbinic Judaism and orthodox Christianity. A third trajectory was traced in the role of the Gospel of Matthew in Jewish-Christian polemics of the medieval era. In this way I have employed formalistic tools to read the Gospel of Matthew within its larger Tradition History. This approach brings new perspectives on how the text was made, but also on what it is and what it does. I have argued throughout that the process through which this Tradition was composed and transmitted is not anecdotal or correlative. It is, instead, both essential and generative. The text is not simply an object to be received; its identity and its function are realized in the dynamics through which it becomes a Living Tradition. At the end of this analysis I turn again to the Gospel of Matthew and to the way in which it operates within its historical context. I am concerned to ask how this gospel is shaped within a specific context of conflict and debate, but also to study the dialectical engagements through which it helps to shape that debate, particularly in the formative years of rabbinic Judaism and Christian orthodoxy. The Gospel of Matthew presents the story of Jesus as the Messiah of Israel. At the end of that story it presents, in a hortatory voice, an eschatological hope that is at once Jewish and universal. It issues this call in the language of the prophets and entrusts it to Jewish disciples like Peter. Peter would disappear early in the story of Acts, and it would be Paul who took the gospel to Rome. But it would not be many years before Rome would claim the body of Peter and build upon it a Gentile church that abandoned, ignored, or rejected the Jewishness of its founders and its foundations. They would do so while quoting the Gospel of Matthew, the first book in their canon. The story of Peter and the Gospel of Matthew would emerge along another distinct line of tradition. Here Peter would lead faithful disciples to fill in the seats left empty by some in Israel. This tradition would know followers of Jesus who kept the Law and maintained their Jewishness. They sought to keep Torah as Jesus did and because Jesus did. These followers of Jesus would defend their faith by claiming, from the Gospel of Matthew, that “the servant is not above the master.” In the end, one trajectory would win and the other would shrink beneath the double charge of heresy, leveled by both synagogue and church. In the grand

2.0 The Gospel of Matthew as a Living Tradition

319

narrative of orthodox Christianity, Matthew would be turned into a Gentile, Peter would be turned into a Roman, and the Jewish dimensions of the story would be jettisoned by most interpreters. In this study we have sought to move behind the twin grand narratives constructed by Christianity under the fathers and Constantine and by rabbinic Judaism under Judah and the emperor. We have also sought to move beyond the mythical reconstructions of Matthew, in both popular and critical versions, to ask again about the form and function of the text that endured.

2.0 The Gospel of Matthew as a Living Tradition I have argued that the Gospel of Matthew is best understood through its history of tradition, which includes both its composition history and its transmission history. This view requires the text to be seen not as a static object to be received by later manuscripts and readers, but rather as a dynamic entity formed through and contributing to a vital, durative, generative process. Once Matthew the author is relieved of the burden of responsibility for all of the components and the processes of the text, it becomes apparent that the Gospel of Matthew is the gathering place for a diverse collection of competing traditions. These traditions are not simply sources; they carry their own voices and values. Moreover, such traditions typically are sponsored by tradents whose authority extends beyond their presence. It is mostly a modern perception and need that such traditions must be unified in their voice and in their presentation.2 This gathering of competing traditions into the story of Jesus is the key to the composition history of the Gospel of Matthew. This process is both generative and degenerative in its effect. This type of borrowing relativizes the appropriated sources, but the incorporation of these various traditions alters as well the shape of the narrative. Because of the authority and the dynamics inherent in such engagement, authors can never fully control this process, nor can they fully shape it to their will. The Gospel of Matthew is a Living Tradition built upon and shaped by a variety of vital, competing traditions. The Gospel of Mark provided the basic structural frame and about 56 % of the content for the Gospel of Matthew. It also brought the dramatic presentation of its miracle cycles, the motif of the messianic secret, the urgency of the eschatological discourse, its presentation of Jesus’ death against the Old Testament image of the suffering but righteous servant of God. Moreover, the Gospel of Mark brought the expectation that the gospel will be preached to the nations, 2 Greeks drama was largely composed around the tragic stories of heroes who failed and the comedy of fools who succeeded. The rabbis, in the Mishnah, collected and kept conflicting answers from different sages. The Qumran community collected and valued different versions of biblical texts.

320

Chapter 14: Conclusion

though it shows little interest in how and when. The Gospel of Matthew draws upon these elements, but rejects the laxity with which the Gospel of Mark treats Jewish Law and its regulations. The Sayings Tradition provides some 22 % of the content of the Gospel of Matthew. These sayings of Jesus are organized into discourses and reshape the structural frame. More importantly, they provide content and illustration for the teaching of Jesus. Most significantly, they help to project the voice of Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew. Their debate with the Pharisees proves disruptive in the Gospel of Matthew, but their absolute commitment to Jewish Law is foundational. The Gospel of Matthew will not, however, let stand their view that the imminent judgment leaves no room for work beyond the borders of Israel. The scriptures of Israel, and the words of the prophets in particular, are drawn into the story of Jesus the Messiah. His story is played out against the hopes and promises of Israel, and the words of Israel’s prophets help to establish the voice of Jesus in this gospel. However, the Gospel of Matthew will move beyond their determinism and will expand upon the role of the nations. The harsh local material (M) includes important teaching materials, but it also includes the strongest critique of the leaders of Israel. This material also exhibits internal contradictions. The Gospel of Matthew will both embrace and create distance from the ideas of this special material. The role of Peter is taken over and adapted from the Gospel of Mark, but he is given a better profile and portfolio in the Gospel of Matthew. Peter is the closest to Jesus and becomes a representative for the Messiah and the Kingdom. Peter is also first among the disciples and, in the Gospel of Matthew, he becomes foundational for the future church. He is present in the final commission scene that begins this new era, but the Gospel of Matthew does not narrate the realization of that vision. The opening and closing units that bracket the story of Jesus are built upon traditional material. Their focus on the role of the nations is central to the Gospel of Matthew, but it stands in contradiction with important stretches of the story. Thus, the Gospel of Matthew is composed upon a variety of conflicting traditions and competing voices. I have argued that each of these traditions is changed by its incorporation, but not silenced. As a result, the Gospel of Matthew is marked throughout by unresolved conflicts. I have further argued that this is a Jewish approach to discourse and that these competing voices are themselves almostly exclusively Jewish.3 They represent, within the Gospel of Matthew, differing ways of understanding God’s work in the Messiah Jesus. 3 The one exception may be the voice of the present day in Mt 27.8 and 28.15. Most disconcerting is the apparent distancing from Judaism in Mt 28.15. It is possible to see this as a distinctly Gentile voice that stands at some distance from the central values of the narrative. There are, however, plausible ways in which this can be read as a Jewish voice.

3.0 A Jewish Voice in a Jewish World

321

3.0 A Jewish Voice in a Jewish World If each redactional change is not seen as a theological strategy and Matthew is no longer responsible for resolving these conflicts and creating a modern narrative with literary, conceptual, and theological coherence, then a different understanding of the identity and function of this gospel emerges. This gospel projects a new vision of the future, but it does so in dialectical engagement – through collaboration and conflict – with a host of vital Jewish traditions. I have argued that the Gospel of Matthew tells the story of Jesus in conflicting voices because this reflects the reality in which it was composed: to do otherwise would be to misrepresent the reality around it. I have further argued that this engagement is not only necessary, but also strategic. Much of the history of scholarship has debated whether the Gospel of Matthew is a Gentile voice imposed upon a Jewish world or whether it represents a Jewish voice in the transition to a Gentile world. I have argued that the Gospel of Matthew represents a Jewish voice still operating within a Jewish world. Furthermore, its final vision is composed in Jewish images, even when those images are developments that expand the paradigm. I have also argued that the final vision of the Gospel of Matthew is a Jewish voice, both in its components and design, but also in its purposes. The message of Jesus is to be taken by Jewish disciples who teach a messianic observance. They, like the messengers of Isaiah 66, are to gather from the nations those who would be added to the people of God. I have argued that this new voice, constructed through the narrative and articulated in its climactic scene, is prescriptive and hortatory. It is a vision not yet realized. Indeed, the Gospel of Matthew does not seek to represent the new reality within the world of the narrative; it only offers foreshadows. The Magi bring tribute from afar; a centurion comes to Jesus in faith; in his going out, Jesus is met by a Canaanite women and her insistent faith. In the same way, the church is a forecast: it will be founded on Peter’s confession, it will hold the keys to the Kingdom and the power to loose and bind; it will correct and discipline its members. The ideal model for this new fellowship is Peter, a fallible Jewish disciple who sees in Jesus the Messiah and Son of God. The Gospel of Matthew does not weave this new reality into its narrative world because it does not yet exist. I have thus argued that the Gospel of Matthew presents its story by gathering from Judaism various traditions about Jesus as the Messiah.4 Alongside and 4  Standing in tension with this understanding are: 1) the call to be baptized in the threefold name; 2) The invocation of blood guilt upon the Jerusalem crowd; 3) the present day voice, which not only appears to break into the world of the narrative, but seemingly speaks from a standpoint over against all of Judaism. It is plausible that all of these belong to a late stage of the narrative and to one trajectory in its transmission history. The baptism and the threefold name can be seen as an extraordinary development of Jewish concepts, and the blood guilt may be tied

322

Chapter 14: Conclusion

through these conflicting voices it generates its own voice. In the presence of Peter and his Jewish companions, Jesus, the Messiah of Israel, speaks in tones that are hortatory and imperative. In his final words he articulates, in cosmological terms, the hopes of Jewish eschatology. Like the ancient messengers of Isaiah and the future emissaries of the coming Son of Man, the messengers of Jesus are sent to gather in the elect of God from all the nations.

4.0 The Gospel of Matthew on the Landscape of Antiquity I argued that the conflicted world within the narrative stands in coherence with the historical reality in which this gospel emerged, both in global and local terms. It does so in a historical and political sense, but it also coheres with an ideological map dominated by the dialectics of engagement across various traditions and factors. These debates were not primarily against external foes, but among the larger circle of Jesus’ followers. Through this conflicted narrative situated in this conflicted world, a uniquely Jewish messianic hope is generated within the Gospel of Matthew. This gospel was then transmitted along two distinct trajectories in the formative years for both Judaism and Christianity. In one line it played a key role in the formation of Christian orthodoxy. In this trajectory the Gospel of Matthew became part of a tradition that saw itself as God’s replacement for a failed Judaism.5 The grand irony of this narrative is that it built its claims upon the shadow of a Jewish Messiah, upon the grave of a Jewish apostle, and upon the text of the Gospel of Matthew. Along another trajectory the Gospel of Matthew was read as the continuation of the story of Israel among followers of Jesus who sought to live in Jewish ways.6 While some of these groups would demand of Gentiles the full embrace of Judaism, many would assert the view that God would bring to the table of Israel the faithful from all the nations. One trajectory would fade while the other would be endowed with patronage to define orthodoxy and to redraw the ideological map of antiquity. Alongside the grand narrative of orthodox Christianity would emerge a new map for Judaism. It would be defined through rabbinical texts gathered and produced, under imperial patronage, through Judah the Prince. By means of its writings and its claim to an unbroken chain of ancient tradition, rabbinic Judaism would to a limited group in specific historical situation. On the other hand, the present day material is more difficult. If this tradition is comprehensive (speaking of all Jews) and belongs to the compositional stage, it is then a Gentile voice that stands over against all other traditions in the narrative. It may be, however, that the phrase means “some Jews” in the present day accept the false explanation started by religious leaders about the empty tomb. 5  Typified in canonical Acts. 6 Typified in Recognitions 1.21–71.

5.0 The Aktionsart of the Gospel of Matthew

323

assert it authority to loose and bind. This included the power to define who and what is Jewish and to assert its own place on the map of antiquity. In later eras, but perhaps also earlier on, the rabbis would sometimes assert their claims over against Christianity by using the Gospel of Matthew. Living on the construction sites of these two grand narratives  – Christian orthodoxy and rabbinic Judaism – the Jewish voice of the Gospel of Matthew would be suppressed and mostly lost. Popular piety would find comfort in the apostolic standing of Matthew and in the distinction of Christian faith from Judaism. Critical scholarship would turn the Tradition into a text and it would define a textus receptus – a fixed object passed on in printed form and subject to the mining of exegetes. Critical scholarship would also find comfort and stasis in the image of Matthew, apostle or evangelist or literary genius, and in his control over the text.

5.0 The Aktionsart of the Gospel of Matthew We are asking here about the form and function of the Gospel of Matthew and how it plays a role in the formation of early Christianity and Judaism. A metaphor drawn from Greek grammar may be appropriate for this question. One of my mentors, Frank Stagg, published in 1972 an article entitled “The Abused Aorist.”7 Here he chastised the numerous grammars that insist the aorist is a punctilear tense. In particular, he was disgruntled with those who loaded theological significance onto this construction (saved once and for all, forgiven once and for all, for example). Stagg noted that the root of the term (ἀ + όριστος ) means “undefined”. The aorist tense, says Stagg, is frequently used to represent action as punctilear, but this is not an essential trait, and certainly not a theological characteristic. The Revelation, for example, uses the aorist to say that the martyrs “lived and reigned a thousand years” (Rev 20.4). This is an apt metaphor for the Gospel of Mattthew. In New Testament scholarship, we can only interpret the text that we have. What we have is canonical Matthew, available to us mostly through Sinaiticus, Vaticanus, and NA28. We read here a gospel that centers on the role of Jesus as the Messiah who addresses Israel through his life and extends that call to the nations in his risen presence with the church. Perhaps we should be reminded that the text we are reading provides a freeze frame in a much larger video; it presents a punctilear view of a stream of Living Tradition.8 With Papias, this tradition was reified as a singular text and it was per7 Frank

Stagg, “The Abused Aorist,” JBL (1972), 222–31.  A similar phenomenon can be seen in 2 Corinthians. Though the canonical version reads as a singular address to the church in Corinth, the letter is almost certainly a composite of several Pauline letters. These were transposed into a single letter, then added to the Pauline collection. I 8

324

Chapter 14: Conclusion

sonalized around the apostolic image of Matthew. There are other texts – before, after, and alongside the canonical text – and there are other ways of reading the work of God with Israel and with the nations. Canonical Matthew is a key component in that tradition and it is the moment most available to us, but it is a one part of a much larger tradition and a much larger story. The complexities of that larger story must be brought to bear on our understanding of the development of primitive Christianity and rabbinic Judaism. The contours of that larger story may also shed further light on the text we now read as the Gospel of Matthew.

6.0 Conclusion When one moves behind the grand narrative about two early, fixed and definable religious traditions and when one moves beyond the constructed images of the persona of Matthew, a different perspective can be gained. The Gospel of Matthew stands at the crossroads – in temporal, geographical, and ideological terms – of the developmental process that led to Christian orthodoxy and to rabbinic Judaism. The Gospel of Matthew not only stands at the crossroads of that debate, but it already contains within itself the voices of competing traditions that will eventually redraw the landscape of antiquity. The Gospel of Matthew insists that in the words and deeds of Jesus the Messiah, God’s promises through the Law and the prophets have been fulfilled. In the days before the arrival of the Son of Man, Jesus sends messengers to the villages of Israel. The resurrection of Jesus then initiates, for the Gospel of Matthew, a new era in God’s plan: the Messiah of Israel now sends out his messengers to gather the elect from all the nations. This formative vision was not shaped primarily in debate with external groups; it emerged from within the larger circle of Judaism among followers of Jesus. Moreover, this vision is not realized or illustrated within the world of the narrative; by necessity, the mood is prescriptive and hortatory rather than descriptive and indicative. This prescriptive vision was imposed upon and joined with the conflicting voices that constitute the Gospel of Matthew. In doing so, this exotic Jewish eschatology, with its universal and messianic dimensions, was imposed upon and joined with the ancient competing voices of the Law and the prophets. The Gospel of Matthew thus added another voice to the stream of conflicting traditions over Jewish messianism and Jewish identity. Operating across an extended geographical and temporal span, this Living Tradition of Jesus the Messiah was thus imposed upon and joined with the various dialectical engagements that do not know of any New Testament scholar who gives primary attention to the editor or scribe who gathered these Pauline traditions. A similar process is at work in the Johannine materials, both inside and outside the canon.

6.0 Conclusion

325

reshaped the landscape of antiquity in the formative period of both Judaism and Christianity. In the conflicted world in which it emerged, this voice offered not unity or coherence, but hope.

Bibliography Alexander, Philip, “‘The Parting of the Ways’ from the Perspective of Rabbinic Judaism,” in The Ways that Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, ed. Adam Becker and Annette Yoshiko Reed (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), pp. 1–25. Allison, Dale, Studies in Matthew: Interpretation Past and Present (Ada: Baker Publishing, 2012). Anderson, Bernhard, “The Pentateuch” in The New Oxford Annotated Bible, NRSV (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991), pp. xxxv–xxxvi. Bacon, Benjamin, “The Five Books of Matthew against the Jews,” The Expositor 15 (1918), pp. 55–56. Bauckham, Richard, “Jews and Jewish Christians in the Land of Israel at the Time of the Bar Kochba War, with Special Reference to the Apocalypse of Peter,” in Tolerance and Intolerance in Early Judaism and Christianity, ed. Graham Stanton and Guy Stroumsa, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), pp. 228–38. – “The Apocalypse of Peter: A Jewish Christian Apocalypse from the Time of Bar Kokhba,” Apocrypha 5 (1994), pp. 7–111. Beaton, Richard C., “How Matthew writes,” in The Written Gospel, ed. Markus Bock­ muehl and Donald Hagner (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), pp. 116– 34. Becker, Adam and Annette Yoshiko Reed, ed., The Ways that Never Parted: Jews and Christians in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003). Benson, L. D., ed., The Riverside Chaucer, 3rd edn. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988). Bauer, Walter, Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity, trans. and ed. R. A. Kraft, et al. (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977; 1st German edition, 1934). Betz, Hans Dieter, The Sermon on the Mount (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995). Bornkamm, Günther; Gerhard Barth; and Heinz Joachim Held, Tradition and Interpretation in Matthew (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1963). Boyarin, Daniel, Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004). – Dying for God: Martyrdom and the Making of Christianity and Judaism (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1999). – “Semantic Differences; or ‘Judaism’ / ‘Christianity,’” in The Ways that Never Parted, ed. Adam Becker and Annette Reed, (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), pp. 65–85. Broadhead, Edwin, “Formalist Interpretation (New Criticism)” in The Oxford Encyclopedia of Biblical Interpretation (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). http://www. oxfordbiblicalstudies.com/article/opr/t373/318. – Jewish Ways of Following Jesus (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010).

Bibliography

327

– Mark in Readings: A New Biblical Commentary (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001). – “Mark 1,44: The Witness of the Leper,” Zeitschrift fur die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft und die Kunde der älteren Kirche 83, 3/4 (1992), pp. 257–65.. – Naming Jesus: Titular Christology in the Gospel of Mark (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999). – “On the (Mis)Definition of Q,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 68 (1997), pp. 3–12. – Prophet, Son, Messiah: Narrative Form and Function in Mark 14–16 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1994). – Teaching with Authority: Miracles and Christology in the Gospel of Mark (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1992). – “The Extent of the Sayings Tradition (Q)” in The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus, ed. Andreas Lindemann (Leuven: Peeter’s Press, 2001), pp. 719–28. – The Gospel of Mark in The Readings Commentary Series (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2001; second edition, 2009). Brooks, Stephenson, Matthew’s Community: the evidence of his special sayings material (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1987). Brown, Raymond; Karl Donfried; John Reumann, ed., Peter in the New Testament, Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1973). Carleton Paget, James, “Jewish Christianity,” in The Cambridge History of Judaism, vol. 3 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), pp. 764–66. Cohen, Shaye, “Common Judaism in Greek and Latin Authors,” in Redefining First-Century Jewish and Christian Identities: Essays in Honor of Ed Parish Sanders, ed. Fabian Udoh (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2008), pp. 69–87. – “The Significance of Yavneh” in The Significance of Yavneh and Other Essays in Jewish Hellenism (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), pp. 44–70. Conzelmann, Hans, Gentiles-Jews-Christians: Polemics and Apologetics in the Greco‑ Roman world, trans. Eugene Boring (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992; German edition, 1981). – “Jesus Christ,” in RGG, 3rd edn. (1959), trans. Raymond Lord as Jesus: The Classic Article from RGG Expanded and Updated, ed. John Reumann (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1973). Culpepper, R. Alan, Anatomy of a Gospel: A Study in Literary Design (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1983). – “Designs for the Church in the Gospel Accounts of Jesus’ Death,” NTS 51/3, July 2005, pp. 376–92. – The Johannine School: An Evaluation of the Johannine School Hypothesis Based on an Investigation of the Nature of Ancient Schools (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1975). Davies, Philip R., The Damascus Document: An Interpretation of the ‘Damascus Document’ (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1983). Davies, W. D., The Setting of the Sermon on the Mount (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1964). – and Dale Allison, Jr., Matthew, International Critical Commentary (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1997). Dunn, James D. G., ed., Jews and Christians: The Parting of Ways, A. D. 70–135 (Tübingen: Mohr, 1989).

328

Bibliography

– The Partings of the Ways Between Christianity and Judaism and their Significance for the Character of Christianity (London: SCM Press, 1991). Ehrman, Bart, Lost Scriptures: Books That Did Not Make It Into the New Testament (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). Foster, Paul, Community, Law and Mission in Matthew’s Gospel (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2004). Frankemölle, Hubert, “Evangelist und Gemeinde: Eine methodenkritische Besinnung mit Beispielen aus dem Matthäusevangelium,” Bib. 60 (1979), pp. 153–90. – Jahwebund und Kirche Christi (Münster: Aschendorff, 1974). Frey, Jörg, “Fragmente judenchristlicher Evangelien,” in Antike Christliche Apokryphen I: Evangelien, ed. Christoph Markschies and Jens Schröter (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2012), pp. 560–660. Garland, David, Reading Matthew: A Literary and Theological Commentary (Macon: Smyth & Helwys, 2001). Gerhardsson, Birger, The Mighty Acts of Jesus According to Matthew (Lund: CWK Gleerup, 1979). Globe, Alexander, “Some Doctrinal Variants in Matthew 1 and Luke 2 and the Authority of the Neutral Text,” CBQ 42 (1980), pp. 52–57. Gold, Victor, “The Book of Isaiah” in The New Oxford Annotated Bible, NRSV (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991). Goodman, Martin, “Religious Variety and the Temple in the Late Second Temple Period and its Aftermath,” in Sects and Sectarianism in Jewish History, ed. Sacha Stern (Leiden: Brill, 2011), pp. 21–37. – The Ruling Class of Judea: The Origins of the Jewish Revolt against Rome A. D. 66–70 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987). Grant, Robert, “Theophilus of Antioch to Autolycus,” in After the New Testament (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1967), pp. 126–57. Gundry, Robert, Matthew: A Commentary on His Literary and Theological Art (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1982); Gundry’s 2nd edition appeared in 1994 as Matthew: A Commentary on His Handbook for a Mixed Church Under Persecution. Hammerton-Kelly, Robert, “Attitudes to the Law in Matthew’s Gospel: A Discussion of Matthew 5:18,” Biblical Research 17 (1972), pp. 19–32. Hare, Douglas, The Theme of Jewish Persecution of Christians in the Gospel According to St. Matthew (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967). Harnack, Adolf von, The Expansion of Christianity in the First Three Centuries, trans. James Moffatt (London: Williams and Norgate, 1904; German edition, 1902). Havener, Ivan, Q: The Sayings of Jesus (Wilmington, Delaware: Michael Glazier, 1987). Held, Heinz Joachim, “Matthew as Interpreter of the Miracle Stories,” in Bornkamm, Barth, and Held, Tradition and Interpretation in Matthew (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1963), pp. 165–299. Hempel, Charlotte, “Community Origins in the Damascus Document in the Light of Recent Scholarship,” in D. W. Parry and E. C. Ulrich, eds., The Provo International Conference on the Dead Sea Scrolls (Leiden: Brill, 1999), pp. 316–29. – The Damascus Texts (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000). – “The Laws of the Damascus Document and 4QMMT” in Joseph M. Baumgarten: Esther G. Chazon; Avital Pinnick, eds., The Damascus Document: A Centennial of Discovery (Leiden: Brill, 2000).

Bibliography

329

– The Laws of the Damascus Document: Sources, Tradition, and Redaction (Atlanta: SBL, 1998). Hengel, Martin, Acts and the History of Earliest Christianity, trans. John Bowden (London: SCM Press, 1979; 1st German edition, 1979). Holtzmann, Heinrich, Die synoptischen Evangelien, ihr Ursprung und geschichtlicher Charakter (Leipzig: Engelmann, 1863). Howard, George, Hebrew Gospel of Matthew (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1995). Hummerl, Reinhart, Die Auseinandersetzung zwischen Kirche und Judentum im Matthäusevangelium (München: Kaiser Verlag, 1963). Kelber, Werner, “The History of the Closure of Biblical Texts,” in The Interface of Orality and Writing: Speaking, Seeing, Writing in the Shaping of New Genres, ed. A. Weissenrieder and R. Coote (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), pp. 71–99. – The Oral and the Written Gospel: The Hermeneutics of Speaking and Writing in the Synoptic Tradition, Mark, Paul, and Q (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1983). Kingsbury, Jack, “Observations on the Miracle Chapters of Matthew 8–9,” CBQ 40 (1978), pp. 559–73. – Structure, Christology, Kingdom (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1975). Klijn, A. F. J., Jewish-Christian Gospel Tradition (Leiden: Brill, 1992). Kloppenborg, John, The Formation of Q (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1987). Konradt, Matthias, Israel, Kirche, und die Völker im Matthäusevangelium (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2007). English translation: Israel, Church and the Gentiles (Waco: Baylor University Press, 2014). Kosmola, Hans, “The Conclusion of Matthew,” ASTI 4 (1965), pp. 132–47. Kraus, Thomas J., and Tobias Niklas (eds.), New Testament Manuscripts: Their Texts and Their World (Leiden: Brill, 2006). Kraus, Wolfgang, “Zur Ekklesiologie des Matthäusevangeliums,” in Matthew at the Crossroads of Early Christianity, ed. Donald Senior (Leuven: Peeters, 2009), pp. 195–239. Kümmel, Werner, Introduction to the New Testament (London: SCM Press, 1975. Lake, Kirsopp, The Text of the New Testament (London: 1913). Lampe, Peter, “Junias,” in Anchor Bible Dictionary, ed. David Noel Freedman (New York: Doubleday, 1992), vol 3, p. 1127. Levine, Amy-Jill, “Matthew’s Portrayal of the Synagogue and Its Leaders,” in Matthew at the Crossroads of Early Christianity, ed. Donald Senior (Leuven: Peeters, 2009), pp. 177–93. Levine, Lee, “Jewish Identities in Antiquity: An Introductory Essay” in Jewish Identities in Antiquity, ed. Lee Levine and Daniel Schwartz (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2009), pp. 12–40. Lieu, Judith, Christian Identity in the Jewish and Graeco-Roman World (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004). – Neither Jew nor Greek: Constructing Early Christianity (London: T&T Clark, 2002). Lüdemann, Gerd, The Acts of the Apostles: What Really Happened in the Earliest Days of the Church? (Amherst: Prometheus Books, 2005). Lührmann, Dieter, Die Redaktion der Logienquelle (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1969). Luz, Ulrich, Matthew, 3 volumes (Minneapolis: Augsburg Press, 1989). Manson, T. W., The Sayings of Jesus (London: SCM Press, 1949). Meeks, Wayne and Robert Wilken, Jews and Christians in Antioch in the First Four Centuries of the Common Era (Ann Arbor: Scholars Press, 1978).

330

Bibliography

Meier, John, The Vision of Matthew: Christ, Church, and Morality in the First Gospel (New York: Paulist, 1979). Millet, Bella, “What is mouvance?” found at http://www.southampton.ac.uk/~wpwt/ mouvance/mouvance.htm Moore, George F., Judaism in the First Centuries of the Christian Era, 3 vols. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1927). Müller, C. Detlef G., “Apocalypse of Peter,” in New Testament Apocrypha, vol. 2, ed. W. Schneemelcher, trans. R. McL. Wilson (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1992), pp. 620–38. Nepper-Christensen, Paul, Das Matthaüsevangelium. Ein judenchristliches Evangelium? (Aarhus: Universitetsforlaget, 1958). Neusner, Jacob, A Life of Yohanan ben Zakkai. Ca. 1–80 C. E. (Leiden: Brill, 1970). – “Defining Judaism,” in The Blackwell Companion to Judaism, ed. Jacob Neusner and Alan Avery-Peck (Oxford: Blackwell, 2000, 2003), pp. 3–19. – Judaism in the Matrix of Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986). – “The Formation of Rabbinic Judaism: Yavneh (Jamnia) from A. D. 70 to 100,” Aufsteig und Niedergang der römschen Welt II, 19.2, ed. H. Temporini and W. Haase (Berlin: de Gruyter Press, 1979). O’Leary, A. M., Matthew’s Judaization of Mark. Examined in the Context of the Use of Sources in Graeco-Roman Antiquity (London: Eisenbrauns, 2006). Ochs, Christoph, Matthaeus Adversus Christianos: The Use of the Gospel of Matthew in Jewish Polemics Against the Divinity of Jesus (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013). Overman, Andrew, Matthew’s Gospel and Formative Judaism: The Social World of the Matthean Community (Minneapolis: Augsburg Press, 1990). Parker, David, An Introduction to the New Testament Manuscripts and their Texts (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008). – Codex Bezae.  An Early Christian Manuscript and Its Text (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992). – Textual Scholarship and the Making of the New Testament (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012). – The Living Text of the Gospels (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997). – The Story of the World’s Oldest Bible (Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2010). Piper, Ron, ed., The Gospel Behind the Gospels. Current Studies on Q (Leiden: Brill, 1994). – Wisdom in the Q-Tradition, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989). Rackman, Emmanuel, “A Challenge to Orthodoxy,” Judaism 18 (1969), pp. 143–58. Reynolds, L. D., and N. G. Wilson, Scribes and Scholars: A Guide to the Transmission of Greek and Latin Literature, 2nd edn. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1974). Saldarini, Anthony, Matthew’s Christian-Jewish Community (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994). Sand, Alexander, Das Gesetz und die Propheten: Untersuchungen zur Theologie des Evangeliums nach Matthäus (Regensburg: Friedrich Pustet, 1974). Sanders, E. P., Judaism: Practice and Belief 63 b.c.e.–66 c.e. (London/Philadelphia: SCM/ Trinity Press International, 1992). – “The Dead Sea Sect and Other Jews: Commonalities, Overlaps and Differences,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls in Their Historical Context, ed. Timothy H. Lim and others, (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2000), pp. 7–43. Schiffman, Lawrence, From Text to Tradition: A History of Second Temple and Rabbinic Judaism (Hoboken: Ktav Publishing, 1991).

Bibliography

331

Schlatter, Adolph, Die Geschichte des Christus (Stuttgart: Calwer, 1923), trans. by Andreas Köstenberger as The History of the Christ: The Foundation of New Testament Theology (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 1997). – Die Kirche Matthäus (Gütersloh: Bertelsmann, 1929). Schneemelcher, Wilhelm, ed., New Testament Apocrypha, rev. edition, trans. R. McL. Wilson, vol. 1, Gospels and Related Writings (Cambridge: James Clarke, 1991; 6th German edition, 1990). Schweizer, Eduard, The Good News According to Mark (Richmond: John Knox Press, 1970). Shaberg, Jane, The Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit: the Triadic Phrase in Matthew 28:19b, (Missoula: SBL Press, 1982). Snodgrass, Klyne, “Matthew’s Understanding of the Law,” Interpretation 46 (1992), pp. 368–78. Senior, Donald, What are they Saying about Matthew? (New York: Paulist Press, revised and expanded edition, 1996). Sim, David, The Gospel of Matthew and Christian Judaism: The History and Social Setting of the Matthean Community (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998). Simon, Marcel, Verus Israel: A study of the relations between Christians and Jews in the Roman Empire (135–425) (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986; 1st French edition, 1960). Skarsaune, Oskar, In the Shadow of the Temple: Jewish Influences on Early Christianity (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2002). – and Hvalvik, Reidar, ed., Jewish Believers in Jesus: The Early Centuries (Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, 2007). – “Jewish Christian Sources Used by Justin Martyr and Other Greek and Latin Fathers,” in Jewish Believers in Jesus, pp. 379–416. – The Proof from Prophecy: A Study of Justin Martyr’s Proof-Text Tradition: Text-type, Provenance, Theological Profile (Leiden: Brill, 1987). Stagg, Frank, “The Abused Aorist,” JBL (1972), pp. 222–31. Stanton, Graham, A Gospel for a New People: Studies in Matthew (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1992). – “Jewish Christian Elements in the Pseudo-Clementine Writings,” in Jewish Believers in Jesus: The Early Centuries, ed. Oskar Skarsaune and Reidar Hvalvik (Peabody: Hendrickson Publishers, 2007), pp. 305–24. Steck, Odil Hannes, Israel und das gewaltsame Geschick der Propheten, WMANT 23 (Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener, 1967). Strecker, Georg, Der Weg der Gerechtigkeit. Untersuchung zur Theologie des Matthäus (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1962). Streeter, B. H., The Four Gospels (London: McMillan, 1924). Stuhlmacher, Peter, “Das Christusbild der Paulus-Schule  – eine Skizze,” in Jews and Christians: The Parting of the Ways A. D. 70–135, ed. James D. G. Dunn (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1992), pp. 158–75. Suggs, Jack, Wisdom, Christology, and Law in Matthew’s Gospel (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1970). Theissen, Gerd, Social Reality and the Early Christians (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992). – The Religion of the Earliest Churches: Creating a Symbolic World, trans. John Bowden (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1999).

332

Bibliography

Tuckett, Christopher, Q and the History of Early Christianity: Studies on Q (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1996). Van Tilborg, Sjef, The Jewish Leaders in Matthew (Leiden: Brill, 1972). Van Voorst, Robert E., The Ascents of James: History and Theology of a Jewish‑Christian Community (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989). Vidas, Moulie, Tradition and Formation of the Talmud (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014). Vielhauer, Philipp, and Georg Strecker, “Jewish-Christian Gospels,” in New Testament Apocrypha, ed. W. Schneemelcher (Cambridge: James Clarke, 1991), pp. 134–78. Wace, Henry, A Dictionary of Christian Biography and Literature to the End of the Sixth Century A. D., with an Account of the Principal Sects and Heresies (London: John Murray, 1911). Weeden, Theodore, Mark: Traditions in Conflict (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1971). Wrede, William, The Messianic Secret, trans. J. C. G. Greig (Cambridge: James Clark, 1971; German edition, 1901). Zetterholm, Magnus, The Formation of Christianity in Antioch: A social-scientific approach to the separation between Judaism and Christianity (London: Routledge, 2003). Zumthor, Paul, “Essai de poétique médiévale,” Collection Poétique (Paris: Seuil, 1972).

Ancient Texts New Testament Gospel of Matthew 1.1–28.20 202 1.1–13.58 87 1–11 29 1–9 146 1.1–4.22 30, 31 1.1–2.23 133 1.1–9 213, 218 1.1–17 34, 142 1.1 202 1.2–16 20 1.2 140 1.5–6 41 1.5 30 1.12 213 1.14–20 213 1.16 146 1.17 140, 142 1.18–2.23 34, 91, 94, 140 1.18 142 1.19 44, 146 1.20 34, 146 1.22 101, 124, 142 1.23 34, 38 1.24–25 146 2.1–12 20, 30, 41 2.1–6 125 2.3 291 2.5–6 140 2.6 34, 101, 124, 125, 143 2.12 34 2.13–15 34, 140, 146 2.13 34 2.15 34, 101, 124, 125, 143 2.16–18 34, 125, 140 2.17 101, 124, 143

2.18 34, 143 2.19–23 146 2.19–21 34 2.19 34 2.20 140 2.23 34, 101, 124, 140, 143 3.1–12 35, 143 3.1 35 3.3 35, 140, 243 3.5–6 140 3.13–17 35, 37 3.13 140 3.14–15 125, 143, 146, 270 3.14 35 3.15–16 43 3.17 35 4.1–16 35 4.1–12 44 4.1–11 89, 140, 143 4.1 45, 140 4.3–4 140 4.4 35, 143 4.5–7 140 4.5 35, 306, 309 4.6 143 4.7 35, 143, 144 4.8–11 140 4.8 35, 138, 139 4.10 35, 143, 285 4.12 35, 37, 51, 140 4.12–16 30, 45 4.13 140 4.14–16 20 4.15–16 33, 35, 42, 101, 124, 143 4.15 141 4.16 142

334

Ancient Texts

4.17 26, 29, 37, 45, 138, 141 4.18–25 34 4.18–22 36, 37, 284 4.18 35 4.19 34 4.21 34 4.22 34 4.23–11.30 28, 29, 30, 31, 45 4.23–25 36, 37 4.23 9, 28, 98, 138, 141, 142 4.24–25 33 5–9 98 5–7 4, 26, 28, 29, 36, 98, 114, 139, 141, 146, 208 5–6 32, 128 5.1–7.29 96 5.1–2 27, 96, 98, 284 5.1 36, 37, 114 5.2–27 37 5.5 92 5.6 146 5.7 92, 95 5.8 92, 95 5.9 92, 95 5.10 33 5.11 34 5.12–17 40 5.12–16 37 5.14 306 5.16 43 5.17–48 97 5.17–20 43, 115, 122, 146 5.17–19 21 5.17–18 41, 50, 114 5.17 95, 128 5.18–22 40 5.18 89, 128 5.19 44, 93, 128 5.20 128, 146, 147, 284 5.21–6.34 128 5.21–48 43 5.21–24 94, 95 5.21–22 93 5.22 40, 306, 308 5.23–24 93 5.23 284 5.24–25 141 5.27–28 92, 93, 94, 95

5.33–37 43, 92, 94, 95 5.33–35 93 5.36 93 5.37 93 5.38–42 43 5.39–42 44, 89 5.41 95 5.43–48 43, 89 5.44 41 5.45 43, 44 5.46 42 5.47 30, 42, 117 6 146 6.1–18 92, 94, 95, 97, 98 6.1–6 92 6.1 43 6.2 6.2–4 43 6.3–4 95 6.5–8 100 6.5–6 43, 219 6.5 129, 146 6.6 95 6.7–8 93 6.7 30, 42 6.8–10 219 6.9b–13 98, 99, 100 6.10 138 6.11 306, 307 6.13–15 219 6.16–18 43, 44, 92 6.16 102, 146, 276 6.17–18 95 6.17 95, 219 6.32 30, 42 6.54 138 7.6 93, 95 7.28–29 36, 96, 98 7.28 27, 45, 89, 116 7.29 138 8–9 9, 15, 28, 29, 98, 141, 146 8.5–13 20, 33, 44, 123, 147, 282 8.5 35 8.10–13 282 8.10 20, 141, 147 8.11–12 89, 147 8.11 142 8.12 138

Ancient Texts

8.13 20, 147 8.17 101, 124, 143 8.21–22 41 8.23–27 28, 148 8.28–34 20, 34 9.1–8 233 9.8 148 9.9 13 9.13 44, 101, 126, 130, 270, 304 9.15 44 9.18–26 42 9.25 138, 141, 142 9.27–31 29 9.29 148 9.35 9, 28, 98, 138 10 26, 28, 144 10.1–23 142 10.1–15 284 10.1–14 107 10.1–4 29, 114, 115, 131 10.1 27 10.2 102 10.5–15 42 10.5–14 29 10.5–8 95 10.5–6 32, 42, 96, 123, 311 10.5 30, 32 10.6 19, 95, 142 10.14 42, 118 10.15 122 10.16–23 29 10.17–22 30 10.17–22a 116 10.17 138 10.18 117, 118, 279 10.23 94, 122, 144 10.23b 92 10.24–25 89, 222, 302, 310 10.24 29, 310 10.26–38 29 10.34 44, 143 10.35–36 29, 43 10.41 44 11 29, 220 11.1 27, 141 11.2–6 89 11.10c 124

335

11.13–14 143 11.17 144 11.20–24 41, 292 11.21–22 41 11.23–24 41, 143, 294 11.23 292 11.25 30, 45, 307, 308 11.28–30 95 11.28 142 12–28 28, 29, 31, 45 12 30, 45 12.1–8 41, 43 12.7 101, 126, 130, 270, 304 12.8 43 12.9–14 41, 43, 138 12.9 138 12.17–21 20, 34, 101, 124, 143 12.18–21 42 12.33–42 40 12.36–37 93 12.38–42 89, 143, 281 12.38–39 283 12.39 144 12.41–42 143 12.41 282 12.42 281, 282 13 220 13.1–53 26, 28, 31, 40 13.1–3 27 13.14–15 125, 143, 270 13.14 101, 113, 124, 143 13.16–17 89, 279 13.17 44, 144 13.24–30 44, 91, 95 13.24 95 13.35 101, 124, 143 13.36–43 44, 115 13.36 115 13.38 44 13.39 280 13.42 43 13.43 44 13.44–46 91. 95, 115 13.44 95 13.45 95 13.47–50 91, 95, 115 14.47 95 13.49 44

336

Ancient Texts

13.51–52 115, 116 13.51 38 13.52 39, 271, 284 13.53 27 13.54–58 138 13.54 138 14.28–34 148 14.28–33 114,131 14.28–31 115, 131 14.30 148 14.31 148 15.1–20 115 15.1–9 40 15.1–2 137 15.8–9 125, 143, 270 15.8 148 15.15 102 15.16 148 15.17 122 15.21–29 147 15.21–28 20, 32, 40, 141, 282 15.22 32, 282 15.23–25 95 15.24 19, 32, 42, 95, 96, 123 15.25 30, 32 15.26 30, 42 15.28 20, 32, 147, 148, 282 16.1–4 282, 283 16.4 144 16.5–12 43 16.8 148 16.11 148 16.12 115 16.13–20 114, 115, 131, 139 16.13–14 245 16.16–17 131, 148 16.16 102, 276 16.17–19 95, 102, 115, 132, 276 16.18–20 148 16.18–19 138, 145 16.18 116, 138, 148 16.19 138, 233 16.20 138 16.21 137, 291 16.22–23 102 16.22 148 16.23 148 16.27–28 144

16.28 144 17.1–9 102, 139, 143 17.1–8 38, 114, 131 17.5 276 17.6 148 17.9 131, 276 17.10–13 143 17.14–21 40 17.17 144 17.20 89, 148 17.24–27 91, 95, 115, 116, 131 17.24 102 18 26, 31, 220 18.1–3a 27 18.15–20 277 18.15–17 138, 218, 279 18.17 30, 42, 116, 117, 145 18.18–20 138 18.18 93, 233 18.19–20 93 18.21–22 115, 131, 233 18.21 102 18.23–35 95 18.23–25 91 18.23 95 19.1 27 19.8 143, 148 19.12 93 19.27–30 102 20.1–16 91, 95 20.1 95 20.17–19 42 20.17 137 20.29–34 29, 30 21.1–11 45 21.4 104, 124, 143 21.5 45 21.7 45 21.10–11 291 21.12 143 21.23 137 21.24 137 21.28–32 91, 95 21.33–46 296 22.1–14 91, 95 22.2 95 22.13 43 22.18 146

Ancient Texts

22.29 57 22.37 125 22.44 143 23–25 26, 28, 31, 40, 63 23 22, 220 23.1–36 40 23.1–22 92 23.1–3 92, 94, 95 23.1–2 272 23.1 27, 127, 129, 272 23.2–3 43, 92, 95 23.2 128 23.3 95, 127, 129 23.4–12 127 23.4 40, 89 23.5 40, 92, 94, 95 23.6 129 23.7b–10 92, 94, 95 23.8–12 95 23.8–10 93 23.8 129 23.10 129 23.13 40, 41, 89, 127, 147 23.15–22 92, 94, 95 23.15 93, 127 23.16–22 93 23.16–21 129 23.16 41, 127 23.22 129 23.23 40, 89, 127, 128, 129, 147 23.24 93 23.25 41, 127, 147 23.27 41, 127 23.28 44, 147 23.29–39 143 23.29 44,127,147 23.31 41 23.33 41, 93 23.34–36 144 23.34 138 23.35 41, 44, 128, 306, 308 23.36 128 23.37–39 89, 137, 291 23.38 128 23.39 293 24–25 26, 114 24.1–25.46 137 24 30, 117, 133

337

24.1–44 30, 116 24.1 137 24.2 137 24.3–25.6 139 24.3–51 139 24.3 26 24.6 116 24.8 116, 144, 276 24.9 42, 279 24.13 276 24.14 42, 117, 123, 144, 145, 276 24.15 137 24.17 117 24.20 43 24.27 122 24.29–31 144 24.29 143 24.30–31 145, 283, 285 24.32–35 175 24.37–39 89, 122 24.36–39 143 24.51 43, 137 25.1–46 139 25.1–13 91, 95 25.1 95 25.14–30 89, 91, 95, 133, 307 25.31–46 91, 95, 133 25.37 44 25.46 44, 137 26 63, 64, 220 26.1 26, 27 26.5 291, 292 26.9 276 26.25 292 26.29 293 26.31 143 26.32 117 26.33–35 148 26.33–34 102 26.47–56 37 26.61 137 26.64 293 26.69–75 148 27–31 148 27 220, 293 27.1–10 292 27.3–10 37, 92, 95

338

Ancient Texts

27.4 44 27.5 137 27.8 292, 294, 295, 296, 320 27.9–10 101, 124, 143 27.19 44, 92, 95 27.24–25 16, 92, 95, 291, 292 27.24 291, 292 27.25 291, 292, 293, 294 27.51b–53 92, 95 27.51 306, 308 27.57 38, 39, 283, 284 27.62–66 16, 92, 95 27.65 307, 309 28.2–4 92, 95 28.7 117 28.9–10 92, 95 28.10 117, 276 28.11–28 30 28.11–15 16, 92, 95, 286, 292 28.11 292, 295, 296 28.15 286, 292, 294, 295, 320 28.16–20 20, 21, 29, 30, 31, 33, 37, 38, 42, 43, 63, 90, 96, 117, 123, 131, 142, 145, 148, 149, 205, 221, 234, 276, 279, 280, 283, 285, 286, 287, 289, 295 28.16–17 37 28.16 139 28.17 37, 148 28.18b–20 19 28.18 132 28.19 19, 37, 39, 283, 283, 287 28.20 202, 276, 284, 286 Gospel of Mark 1.1 107, 266 1.1–8 35 1.2–2.22 28, 31 1.2–6 35 1.3 35 1.9–11 35 1.11 35 1.12–13 35 1.14–15 35, 37 1.14 35 1.16–20 35, 36 1.21–39 35

1.21–38 36 1.21–29 35, 112 1.21–28 35 1.27–28 36 1.29–31 35, 112 1.32–39 112 1.32–34 35 1.32–33 118 1.40–9.50 36 1.41 118 1.43 118 1.45 118 2.1–13 112 2.12–4.34 28, 29, 31 2.27 122 3.1–7 112 3.5 118 3.10 118 3.13–19 29, 114, 115, 131 3.16–19 102, 114, 115 3.19b–21 33 3.21 118 4.35–5.43 28 5.1–20 34 5.9 118 5.30 118 6.1–16.8 28, 29, 31 6.5 118 6.6b–13 42, 107 6.6 118 6.7–13 29 6.11 42 6.14–16.8 87 6.38 118 6.47–53 112, 114 6.48 118 7 32 7.15 122 7.19 115, 122 7.24–30 32 7.24 118 7.26 282 8.12 118 8.22–27a 113 8.23 118 8.27–30 114, 115, 131 8.27 102 8.29 130

Ancient Texts

8.30 130 9.2–8 114, 131 9.6 102, 130 9.9 131 9.16 118 9.21 118 9.33 118 9.49–50 33 9.49 33 9.50a 33 9.50b 33 10.14 118 10.18 118 10.21 118 10.28 131 10.46–52 29, 113 10.52 113 11.13 118 11.27–28 244 11.30–31 245 13 29, 30, 42, 113, 170, 171, 174, 276 13.1–37 116 13.1–4 172 13.3–5 113 13.5–37 171 13.5 113 13.7–8 113 13.7 116 13.8 116, 276 13.9–13 30 13.9–10 117 13.9 42, 117, 138 13.10 117, 131, 276 13.11 113 13.12 42 13.13 113, 117 13.14 113, 172 13.18 43 13.28–30 175 13.37 113 14.9 276 14.14 118 14.27 113 14.28 113, 117 14.29–31 131 14.33 118 14.51–52 114

14.58 118 14.66–72 131 15.42–46 246 16.1–8 206, 207, 276 16.7 113, 117, 131, 206 16.8 46, 131, 206 16.9–20 206, 207 16.14 206 16.15–18 288 16.15 289 16.17–18 207 Gospel of Luke 2.1–7 125 6.17–49 96, 99 6.20–49 4 7.18–23 88 9.51–18.14 99 9.1–6 42 9.20 102 9.33 102 10.2–16 32 10.25–37 99 11.1 100 11.2b–4 99 12.53 29 15.11–32 99 18.1–8 99 18.9–14 99 21.29–33 175 21.33 51 24.44 73 24.44–46 51 Gospel of John 1.4–8 286 1.19–22 244 1.20–24 286 3.1–2 246 3.19 246 3.39 246 5.39 51 16.13–15 51 17.17 51 18 202, 203, 211 18.31–33 210 18.37–38 210 19.38 246

339

340 Sayings Tradition (Q) 3.7–9 119, 120 3.16–17 119, 120 6.20–23 120 6.47–49 120 7.18–35 119 7.18–23 88 7.31–35 121 10.2–16 32 10.9 120 11.2–4 120 11.9–13 120 11.39–42 121 11.47–51 120 11.49–51 120 12.8–10 120 12.22–31 120 12.39–59 120 13.18–21 120 13.23–30 120 13.34–35 120 14.5 89, 121 14.16–24 120 16.16 119 17.23–37 120 17.23–24 89 17.26–30 120 17.33–35 120 17.37 120 19.12–27 120 Acts 1.8 32 2.5–13 249 2.14 245 2.16 51 2.22 245 2.36 245 2.38 288 2.43–47 161 4.7 244 5.1–11 162 5.17–18 162 5.33–39 246 6.1–6 259 6.7 168 6.8–8.1 164, 168 6.12 162

Ancient Texts

7.54–8.1 162 8.1–4 249 8.3 162 8.4–13 249 8.14–25 249 8.16 288 8.26–40 249 9.31 161 9.32–10.48 249 10.1–48 161 10.45 161 10.48 288 11.19–21 249 11.19 259 11.20 259 11.22–24 249 11.27–30 249 13.1–5 261 13.44–52 162 13.46–49 259 13.46–47 168, 261 13.46 194 14.1 162 14.21 39, 284 14.24–28 259 15 193 15.1–35 161 15.1–15 259 15.6–29 260 15.22–29 249 15.32–35 251 15.36–41 251 17.11 51 18.4–6 162 18.6 168, 194, 261 18.19 162 18.22–23 251 19.5 288 28.23–28 162 28.25–28 261 28.25 194 28.28 168 28.30–31 161, 162 Romans 6.3 288 15.4 51 16.7 205

Ancient Texts

16.22 75 16.25–26 51 1 Corinthians 9.5 249 15.3–7 105 16.21 75 2 Corinthians

323

Galatians 1.6 163 2.1–10 193 2.9 193 3.1 163, 288 3.27 288 3.28 162 5.12 163 6.11 75 Ephesians 1.20–23 280 Philippians 2.5–11 105 3.4–6 245 2 Thessalonians 3.17 75 1 Timothy 4.13 81 2 Timothy 3.15–17 51 4.13 105 Hebrews 1.1–3 180

1.1–2 51, 180 1.5–2.18 180 3.1–6 180 4.12 51 4.14–7.28 180 8.1–10.39 180 9.15 180 10.10 180 10.23–25 181 11.1–12.2 181 13.7–8 181 13.17 181 1 Peter 1.25 51 2 Peter 1.19–21 51 3 John 7 117 Revelation 1.4–3.22 172 1.4 172 1.5–6 172 1.5 172 2.1 172 2.9 172 2.13 172 3.9 172 12.10 280 13.10 174 17.3–6 174 17.18 174 20.4 323 22.1–7 174

Hebrew Bible Genesis 49.10–11 176, 177 49.10 177

Exodus 19.3–6 280 24.4 50, 51 33.13–23 280 34.1–28 280

341

342 Numbers 24.17

Ancient Texts

176, 177

Deuteronomy 4.1–2 50 6.13 139, 285 10.20 285 17.19 50 32.43 285 Joshua 8.34 50 1 Kings 10.1–10 281 10.9 281 19.4–21 280 2 Chronicles 9.1–9 281 30.16 73 Psalms 1 177 2 177 3.6 176 19.3–6 177 19.7–10 50 22.8–9 176 22.17 176 22.19 176 24.7–8 177 40.6–8 270, 278 72 280 91.11 143 96 177 110.1–3 177 119.11 50 119.89 50 119.105 50 119.140 50 Isaiah 1–39 74 1.9 177 2.2–4 280 2.2–3 39 2.3–4 177

6.9 270 7.14 176 8.23–9.1 35 8 33 9.1–2 34 9.5 176 11.1 176 11.10 280 29.13 148, 270 34.16 50 35.3–5 176 40–66 74 40–48 74 40.8 50 42.1–4 34, 74 44–55 74 44.28 74 45.1 74 49–55 74 49.1–6 74 50.4–11 74 50.6–8 176 51.5 176 52.13–53.12 74, 176 54.1 177 56–66 75 56–59 75 56 280 56.3–8 141 56.7–8 280 58.2 176 60–62 75 60.1–11 141 60.3 30 63–66 75 65.2 176 66 297, 318, 321 66.18–24 281 66.18–21 283 66.24 177 Jeremiah 9.26 177 15.16 50 18 293 18.1–2 293 18.18 291 20.1–2 291

343

Ancient Texts

26.7–11 291 32 293 32.6–44 293 32.9 293 36.1–32 50

4.1–4 141 5.1 125, 176 5.3 125 6.6–8 126, 129, 270 6.8 129 7.6 143

Daniel 7.13–18 280 Hosea 6.6

101, 126, 129, 130, 270, 271, 278, 304, 305

Amos 5.21–24 126, 270 5.23–24 129 5.23 278 5.24 278

Habakkuk 2.4 147, 157 2.5–6 157 2.7–8a 157 2.8b 158 Zechariah 9.9 45, 176 12.10–12 177 Malachi 3.1

Micah 1.1–2 141

35, 124

Other Ancient Texts Apocalypse of Peter 174–75, 177 Apocalypse of Zephaniah 160 Apocryphon of Ezekiel 160 Book of Nestor (Sefer Nestor ha-Komer) 223, 303, 311 Chrysostom Homily 1 292, 300 1.1 258 1.3 258 1.6 258 2.3 258 4.7 258 8.4 258 Exp. in Ps 109.2 257

Clement Eclogae propheticae 41.2 175 Cyril of Alexandria The Discourse on Mary Theotokos 288, 289 Diataxis 257 Didache 1.1–6.1 99 1.3b–2.1 99 6.3 100 7.1–4 100 7.1 287, 289 7.3 287, 289 8.1–3 100 8.2–3 100 8.2 99 9.1–10.7 100 9.5 287, 289

344 11.1–12 107 11.4–9 268 12.1–8 268 13.1–4 269 15.1–2 269 15.2 107 Didascalia 257 Epiphanius Panarion 28.5.1 222, 302 29.7.7 223, 250, 260 29.9.4 222, 223, 260, 302 30.2.7 250 30.3.7 222,302 30.13.2–3 304 30.13.6–7 222, 302 30.14.3–4 222, 302 30.16.5 305 30.22.4 302 30.26.2 310

Ancient Texts

De mens.et pond. 15 250 Demonstratio Evangelica 240.136 287 Theophania 4.22 4.12

306, 307 306, 307

1 Enoch

160, 280

2 Enoch

160

Even Bohan

223–224, 303, 312

Ezra, Esdras Fourth Book of Ezra (2 Esdras) 160, 280 Filaster div. her. liber 36 302

Haer. 70.10 257

Gospel of the Ebionites 304–05

De mens. et pond 15 250

Gospel according to the Hebrews 305

Eusebius Church History 2.23.17–18 169 3.5.3 250 3.11.1 169 3.24.6 223, 303 3.27.2 310 3.39.15 3 3.39.16 3, 223, 303 4.5.1 250 4.22.1 179 4.22.4–5 178 4.22.6 178 4.22.7–8 178 6.2.1 259 6.14.1 175 6.25.4 223, 303 6.32 170

Gospel of the Nazoreans 306–09 Gospel of Thomas Saying 82 33 Ignatius Philadelphia 6.1 8.2

255, 299 255, 299

Magnesians 8.1–2 300 10.1 299 Smyrneans 8.2 299

345

Ancient Texts

Irenaeus Adversus Haereses 3.1.1 223, 303 3.11.7 179, 180 3.11.8 179 Jerome De vir. ill 222 2 260 3 222, 260, 302 In Matt 6.11 12.13 23.35 27.16 27.51

222 306, 307 222, 302 306, 308 306, 308 306, 308

Epistles 112.13 260 Against the Pelagians 3.2 306, 308 Justin Martyr Dialogue 39 288 47.1 175 53 288 176–77, 287, 285 1st Apology Josephus Jewish Wars 2.118 159 2.119 159 2.457–459 253 2.585–646 159 4.560 241 7.44–45 252 7.44 253 7.45 259 7.46–49 253 7.47 254 7.50–51 253 7.58–61 253 7.100–111 253 7.109 254 7.111 254

Antiquities (Ant.) 4.201 183 12.119 253 13.138–139 252 18.116–119 245 20.199 245 20.200 246 23–24 159 25 159 Contra Apionem 2.179–181 158, 188 2.39 253 Milhamot HaShem 223, 303, 312 Mishnah Sanhedrin 10.1 190 Nizzahon Vetus 223, 303 Odes of Solomon 23.31–32 287 Origen in Matt. 5.14 306 15.14 307, 309 79 310 De prin. 4.3.8

311

Philo De Migratione Abrahami 187 Pirke Avot

51, 106, 155, 156

Pseudo-Clementines Recognitions 1.27–71 163–69, 177, 182, 246, 290, 322 Pseudo-Hieronymus Indic. de haer 10 310

346

Ancient Texts

Pseudo-Tertullian adv. omn. haer. 3 310

Sepher Joseph Hamekane 223, 303

Q (see Sayings Tradition)

Shepherd of Hermas Similitude 9.17.4 288

Quissat Mujadalat al-Usquf 311, 312 Qumran 4QMMT

56, 57, 328

1QpHab 8–11 147 8 157 9 158 Recognitions (see Pseudo-Clementines) Sefer Nestor ha-Komer (see Book of Nestor)

Syballine Oracles 154 Tertullian De Corona 3 287 Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs 177 Theophilus Apologia ad Autolycum 256 1.12 257

Index of Authors Alexander, Philip ​197, 326 Allison, Dale ​15, 16, 17, 40, 44, 87, 88, 90, 91, 92, 94, 95, 100, 103, 104, 118, 124, 269, 326, 327 Anderson, Bernhard ​74, 326 Bacon, Benjamin ​15, 326 Barth, Gerhard ​8, 9, 15, 326, 328 Bauckham, Richard ​174, 326 Beaton, Richard C. ​11, 85, 326 Becker, Adam ​185, 197, 326 Benson, L. D. ​50, 326 Bauer, Walter ​305, 326 Betz, Hans Dieter ​4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 15, 96, 97, 98, 99, 326 Bornkamm, Günther ​8, 9, 15, 326, 328 Boyarin, Daniel ​185, 326 Broadhead, Edwin ​10, 25, 28, 42, 82, 102, 111, 112, 117, 123, 126, 150, 153, 197, 206, 248, 261, 265, 270, 304, 326, 327 Brooks, Stephenson ​92, 93, 94, 327 Brown, Raymond ​102, 327 Carleton Paget, James ​304, 327 Cohen, Shaye ​182, 186, 187, 190, 327 Conzelmann, Hans ​8, 192, 327 Culpepper, R. Alan ​11, 32, 106, 327 Davies, Philip R. ​56, 327 Davies, W. D ​9, 10, 15, 16, 17, 87, 88, 90, 91, 92, 94, 95, 100, 103, 104, 118, 124, 153, 186, 269, 327 Donfried, Karl ​102, 327 Dunn, James D. G. ​192, 194, 195, 327, 331 Ehrman, Bart ​304, 306, 307, 328

Foster, Paul, ​21, 328 Frankemölle, Hubert ​12, 14, 328 Frey, Jörg ​305, 306, 328 Garland, David ​16, 328 Gerhardsson, Birger ​15, 328 Globe, Alexander ​52, 328 Gold, Victor ​74, 328 Goodman, Martin ​VII, 158, 187, 188,189,240,241, 242, 328 Grant, Robert ​256, 328 Gundry, Robert ​15, 328 Hammerton-Kelly, Robert ​15, 328 Hare, Douglas ​14, 16, 328 Harnack, Adolf von ​191, 328 Havener, Ivan ​121, 328 Held, Heinz Joachim ​8, 9, 15, 326, 328 Hempel, Charlotte ​56, 328 Hengel, Martin ​VIII, 192, 193, 329 Holtzmann, Heinrich ​6, 329 Howard, George ​223, 224, 288, 289, 302, 303, 313, 329 Hummerl, Reinhart ​13, 329 Kelber, Werner ​54, 55, 57, 58, 60, 103, 265, 329 Kingsbury, Jack ​15, 16, 329 Klijn, A. F. J. ​304, 305, 306, 329 Kloppenborg, John ​88, 119, 329 Konradt, Matthias ​19, 20, 291, 292, 295, 329 Kosmola, Hans ​288, 329 Kraus, Thomas J. ​219, 329 Kraus, Wolfgang ​22, 329 Kümmel, Werner ​91, 329 Lake, Kirsopp ​52, 329 Lampe, Peter ​205, 329

348

Index of Authors

Levine, Amy-Jill ​23, 329 Levine, Lee ​183, 229 Lieu, Judith ​197, 329 Lüdemann, Gerd ​196, 197, 198, 329 Lührmann, Dieter ​119, 121, 329 Luz, Ulrich ​VIII, 12, 14, 15, 16, 18, 19, 24, 26, 28, 29, 51, 53, 91, 98, 102, 103, 104, 268, 278, 329 Manson, T. W. ​120, 329 Meeks, Wayne ​251, 253, 254, 256, 257, 259, 300, 329 Meier, John ​14, 19, 330 Millet, Bella ​49, 51, 52, 59, 330 Moore, George F. ​186, 330 Müller, C. Detlef G. ​174, 330 Nepper-Christensen, Paul ​14, 330 Neusner, Jacob ​184, 185, 186, 246, 247, 330 Niklas, Tobias ​219, 329 O’Leary, A. M. ​266, 330 Ochs, Christoph ​311, 312, 313, 314, 330 Overman, Andrew ​16, 330 Parker, David ​52, 58, 78, 79, 80, 81, 107, 109, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 213, 330 Piper, Ron ​119, 330

Sanders, E. P. ​182, 183, 187, 327, 330 Schiffman, Lawrence ​183, 330 Schlatter, Adolph ​104, 191, 331 Schneemelcher, Wilhelm ​174, 330, 331, 332 Schweizer, Eduard ​VIII, 113, 331 Shaberg, Jane ​288, 331 Snodgrass, Klyne ​15, 331 Senior, Donald ​10, 13, 16, 22, 23, 28, 115, 329, 331 Sim, David ​14, 16, 21, 331 Simon, Marcel ​257, 258, 331 Skarsaune, Oskar ​163, 174, 176, 177, 331 Stagg, Frank ​VIII, 323, 331 Stanton, Graham ​12, 16, 18, 163, 164, 174, 326, 331 Steck, Odil Hannes ​120, 331 Strecker, Georg ​14, 16, 305, 306, 331, 332 Streeter, B. H. ​91, 331 Stuhlmacher, Peter ​VIII, 192, 331 Suggs, Jack ​15, 331 Theissen, Gerd ​107, 196, 331 Tuckett, Christopher ​119, 120, 121, 332 Van Tilborg, Sjef ​16, 332 Van Voorst, Robert E. ​164, 332 Vidas, Moulie ​60, 332 Vielhauer, Philipp ​305, 306, 332

Rackman, Emmanuel ​183, 184, 330 Reed, Annette Yoshiko ​185, 197, 326 Reumann, John ​102, 192, 327 Reynolds, L. D. ​52, 330

Wace, Henry ​256, 332 Weeden, Theodore ​112, 332 Wilken, Robert ​251, 253, 254, 256, 329 Wilson, N. G. ​52, 330 Wrede, William ​111, 112, 332

Saldarini, Anthony ​16, 330 Sand, Alexander ​15, 330

Zetterholm, Magnus ​251, 252, 253, 332 Zumthor, Paul ​48, 49, 332

Subject Index Alexandria ​4, 154, 160, 184, 198, 203, 241, 249, 250, 288, 289, 305 Antioch ​39, 64, 161, 191, 194, 198, 203, 249, 251, 252, 253, 254, 255, 256, 257, 258, 259, 260, 261, 262, 264, 275, 299, 300, 301, 303 Bezea (D) ​78, 219, 284, 285 birkhat ha minim ​10 Calvin, John ​4 Chrysostom ​4, 254, 257, 258, 292, 300, 301 Clement of Alexandria ​4, 175, 305 Clement of Rome ​163, 164, 166, 167 Constantine ​63, 153, 170, 190, 221, 234, 247, 254, 258, 301, 319 Damascus ​286 Damascus Document ​56, 57, 168 Didache ​99, 100, 107, 260, 267, 268, 269, 287, 289, 290 Discipleship ​4, 10, 17, 21, 26, 29, 31, 34, 36, 37, 38, 47, 96, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 118, 121, 130, 131, 132, 142, 148, 149, 265, 266, 267, 273, 279, 284 Essenes ​9, 159, 178, 186, 188, 189, 193, 243, 245 Eusebius ​3, 4, 13, 169, 170, 175, 178, 206, 220, 222, 223, 250, 259, 287, 288, 289, 290, 302, 303, 306, 307, 309, 310 Form Criticism ​7, 8, 9, 79, 83, 103 Gamaliel ​106, 155, 156, 167, 168, 169, 246

Hebrew Matthew ​222, 223, 224, 234, 289, 290, 295, 302, 303, 314, 318 Hegesippus ​178, 179, 291, 309 Ignatius ​254, 255, 258, 261, 299, 300 Iliad ​67, 68, 81, 82, 85 Irenaeus ​4, 178, 179, 180, 223, 303 Jefferson, Thomas ​5, 6 Jerusalem ​19, 29, 35, 36, 39, 45, 74, 75, 76, 87, 91, 99, 100, 112, 113, 128, 136, 137, 138, 140, 141, 152, 153, 155, 158, 159, 161, 163, 164, 166, 167, 168, 169, 172, 188, 189, 190, 191, 192, 193, 194, 198, 238, 240, 241, 242, 243, 244, 245, 248, 249, 250, 251, 252, 254, 259, 260, 265, 280, 281, 283, 291, 292, 293, 295, 296, 300, 308, 317, 321 Jewish Christianity ​7, 10, 12, 13, 14, 17, 21, 92, 94, 98, 99, 101, 116, 119, 126, 163, 164, 174, 175, 176, 177, 191, 193, 194, 195, 198, 222, 223, 224, 248, 249, 250, 255, 259, 260, 261, 270, 288, 289, 290, 302, 303, 304, 305, 306, 309, 310, 311, 312, 313, 314, 318 Jewish Gospels ​303, 308, 309 Jewish Wars ​19, 152, 153, 154, 156, 158, 160, 162, 163, 169, 170, 171, 172, 181, 182, 183, 186, 188, 189, 190, 191, 193, 194, 195, 199, 200, 242, 243, 248, 250, 252, 253, 254, 260, 275 Josephus ​9, 39, 53, 105, 154, 158, 159, 160, 169, 170, 171, 181, 183, 185, 188, 189, 190, 193, 241, 242, 243, 244, 245, 246, 251, 252, 253, 254, 259, 283, 291

350

Subject Index

Justin Martyr ​4, 175, 176, 177, 287, 288, 289 L (special tradition) ​99 Lord’s Prayer ​79, 98, 99, 100, 104, 120 M (special tradition, Sondergut) ​7, 29, 30, 32, 44, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 104, 115, 122, 123, 126, 127, 130, 134, 271, 272, 320 mishnah ​2, 9, 106, 128, 153, 156, 171, 183, 190, 246, 248, 319 Mouvance, oeuvre mouvante ​VII, XVIII, 48, 49, 50, 52, 57, 58, 59, 154, 285, 286, 290, 314, 315, 316 Origin ​4 Palestine ​92, 137, 153, 154, 193, 198, 237, 238, 239, 240, 248, 249, 250, 251, 254, 260, 262, 317 Papias ​3, 4, 13, 24, 65, 108, 220, 221, 222, 223, 232, 233, 302, 303, 305, 314, 323 Parting of the ways ​12, 16, 18, 153, 154, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 298 Paul ​23, 38, 39, 75, 76, 103, 105, 153, 161, 162, 163, 164, 168, 169, 180, 181, 182, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 198, 205, 245, 249, 261, 274, 275, 299, 318 Paul of Samosata ​257 Peter ​3, 4, 34, 36, 38, 98, 102, 105, 108, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 118, 130, 131, 132, 134, 139, 148, 149, 151, 153, 161, 164, 166, 167, 168, 175, 206, 233, 245, 248, 249, 266, 273, 276, 279, 284, 296, 304, 318, 319, 320, 321, 322 Pharisees ​13, 16, 17, 19, 26, 40, 43, 92, 95, 96, 99, 101, 115, 121, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 131, 135, 137, 138, 143, 144, 146, 147, 148, 149, 159, 162, 167, 170, 178, 185, 186, 187, 189, 193, 243, 245, 246, 267, 268, 270, 272, 277, 278, 294, 320 Philo ​39, 53, 154, 160, 181, 187, 256, 283 Q (see Sayings Tradition) Qumran, Dead Sea Scrolls ​XVII, 54, 55, 56, 57, 60, 75, 147, 153, 157, 158, 170, 182, 188, 243, 271, 291, 316, 319

reception history (Wirkungsgeschichte) ​ 53, 73, 225 Redaction Criticism ​VII, XVII, XVIII, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 14, 17, 24, 32, 33, 46, 56, 90, 91, 94, 95, 96, 97, 99, 101, 103, 126, 127, 164, 270, 315, 321 Rome ​2, 153, 155, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 170, 171, 174, 179, 190, 198, 199, 237, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242, 243, 246, 247, 248, 249, 252, 255, 318 Sadducees ​9, 43, 115, 153, 159, 162, 167, 178, 186, 189, 190, 193, 243, 245 Samaritans ​31, 32, 42, 123, 167, 178, 189, 243,244, 311 Sayings Tradition (Q) ​XVII, 7, 11, 14, 21, 29, 30, 32, 58, 85, 88, 90, 93, 95, 96, 97, 99, 101, 103, 104, 105, 107, 114, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 134, 207, 233, 234, 260, 265, 267, 268, 269, 270, 271, 290, 320 scribes ​16, 19, 38, 40, 43, 46, 49, 50, 52, 55, 58, 92, 107, 115, 116, 127, 128, 129, 146, 147, 149, 167, 184, 202, 204, 206, 207, 213, 243, 244, 271, 272, 284, 295 Sermon on the Mount ​4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 15, 24, 26, 28, 29, 36, 37, 44, 45, 86, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 104, 114, 120, 139, 141, 146, 147, 153, 186, 208, 294 Sermon on the Plain ​4, 6, 8, 24, 96, 97, 99 Sinaiticus ​XVII, 62, 63, 64, 65, 78, 152, 203, 204, 205, 208, 212, 213, 214, 215, 219, 220, 221, 222, 224, 234, 285, 286, 287, 323 Singer, I. B. (Yitskhok Zynger) ​71, 72, 73 Source Criticism ​6, 86, 92, 127 synagogue ​VII, 5, 10, 12, 15, 16, 18, 21, 23, 24, 92, 93, 94, 104, 116, 129, 136, 137, 138, 146, 162, 172, 173, 192, 193, 194, 196, 252, 258, 264, 265, 271, 272, 274, 277, 278, 279, 292, 300, 301, 311, 318 Temple ​2, 5, 9, 11, 32, 40, 41, 54, 55, 87, 111, 116, 122, 129, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 143, 146, 152, 153, 154, 155, 157, 158, 161, 165, 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 173, 174, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 186, 187, 188, 189, 192, 193, 194, 238, 239,

Subject Index

240, 241, 242, 243, 244, 246, 248, 250, 251, 252, 253, 254, 268, 270, 272, 292, 300, 301, 308, 317 Tertullian ​4, 287, 310 textual criticism ​52, 58, 66, 76, 78, 201, 202, 204, 205, 207 textus receptus ​53, 54, 55, 77, 323 Torah ​17, 19, 21, 22, 23, 43, 74, 93, 94, 106, 114, 115, 121, 122, 128, 134, 155, 156, 171, 177, 184, 188, 193, 194, 246, 247, 271, 277, 278, 284, 290, 311, 312, 318

351

Tradition History (Traditionsgeschichte) ​ VII, XVIII, 58, 66, 77, 78, 83, 84, 85, 86, 92, 93, 98, 99, 100, 105, 108, 126, 152, 164, 201, 202, 205, 224, 225, 236, 263, 274, 289, 290, 291, 294, 298, 315, 316, 318 Vaticanus ​XVII, 62, 203, 212, 219, 220, 221, 224, 285, 286, 287, 323 Zealots ​9, 153, 156, 170, 184, 189, 193