The Q Hypothesis Unveiled: Theological, Sociological, and Hermeneutical Issues Behind the Sayings Source (Beitrage Zur Wissenschaft Vom Alten Und Neuen Testament) 9783170374423, 9783170374430, 3170374427

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Beiträge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und Neuen Testament Volume 225 Edited by Walter Dietrich Ruth Scoralick Reinhard von Bendemann Marlis Gielen

Markus Tiwald (Ed.)

The Q Hypothesis Unveiled Theological, Sociological, and Hermeneutical Issues behind the Sayings Source

Verlag W. Kohlhammer

1st Edition 2020 All rights reserved © W. Kohlhammer GmbH, Stuttgart Production: W. Kohlhammer GmbH, Stuttgart Print: ISBN 978-3-17-037442-3 E-Book-Format: pdf: ISBN 978-3-17-037443-0 W. Kohlhammer bears no responsibility for the accuracy, legality or content of any external website that is linked or cited, or for that of subsequent links. Dieses Werk einschließlich aller seiner Teile ist urheberrechtlich geschützt. Jede Verwendung außerhalb der engen Grenzen des Urheberrechts ist ohne Zustimmung des Verlags unzulässig und strafbar. Das gilt insbesondere für Vervielfältigungen, Übersetzungen, Mikroverfilmungen und für die Einspeicherung und Verarbeitung in elektronischen Systemen.

Preface The essays collected in this volume are the proceedings of an international conference on the Sayings Source Q held in Essen, Germany in August 2019. The scholars contributing to this volume generally support the Q hypothesis. Nevertheless, they want to submit their own conceptions to scrutiny. Especially the question as to whether Q scholars are driven by unscholarly projections or prejudices was subject to debate. Sometimes exegetes also follow trends and fashion. Therefore, the central topic of this volume is a critical self-reflection on the hermeneutical options (and perhaps also biases) in Q research. My special thanks go to John Kloppenborg and Gerd Theißen. Both of them asked me repeatedly why actually so many Catholic Scholars engage in Q studies. In thinking about this question, the idea to reflect on our own projections and prejudices in our scholarly work on Q was born; and in my own contribution to this volume I try to provide my answer to these questions as well as I could. Kindly, Jens Schröter accepted to give the keynote lecture to this conference. His idea to “suggest a moderate, ‘soft’ version of the Q hypothesis as a perhaps more appropriate approach to Q and the Synoptic problem” seems a viable option to reach out to Q sceptics and to take the heat out of our discussions. Many thanks go to all the participants in this conference who contributed with their papers and willingly engaged in the discussions. I want to express my special thanks that this volume was accepted in the BWANT series. Prof. Marlies Gielen and Prof. Reinhard von Bendemann as series editors are valuable friends and the cooperation with Dr. Sebastina Weigert and Florian Specker from Kohlhammer always has been a pleasure! Last but not least my thanks go to my team: Especially Dr. Enrico Grube has invested lots of time in proofreading this volume, further Lothar Junker, Kathrin Wohlthat, Marie-Helén van Heys, Michaela Richter, Isabell and Frederik Lazar. Vienna/Austria, 2020

Markus Tiwald

Content Markus Tiwald Looking behind the Curtain: An Introduction to the Volume ..............................................................................

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Jens Schröter Key Issues Concerning the Q Hypothesis: Synoptic Problem, Verbal Reconstruction, and the Message of Jesus .............

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Lukas Bormann Das Interesse an Markuspriorität, Logienquelle und Zweiquellentheorie im deutschen Protestantismus des 19. Jahrhunderts .........................................

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Christopher Tuckett The Reception of Q Studies in the UK: No room at the inn?..................................................................................................

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Paul Foster The Rise and Development of the Farrer Hypothesis .........................................

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Markus Tiwald The Investment of Roman Catholics in the 2DH and Q ...................................... 129 Joseph Verheyden Introducing “Q” in French Catholic Scholarship at the Turn of the 19th and 20th Century: Alfred Loisy’s Évangiles synoptiques......................................................................... 146 Gerd Theißen Itinerant Radicalism: The Origin of an Exegetical Theory ....................................................................... 175 Marco Frenschkowski Itinerant Charismatics and Travelling Artisans – Was Jesus’ Travelling Lifestyle Induced by His Artisan Background? ............. 191

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Sarah E. Rollens Where Are All the Women in Q Studies?: Gender Demographics and the Study of Q............................................................ 223 Hildegard Scherer Learning Lessons on Q: The 2DH and Q in Academic Teaching .................................................................. 254 Ralf Miggelbrink The Quest for the Historical Jesus and Q in the View of Systematic Theology ...................................................................... 274 Contributors .............................................................................................................. 283 Index of Persons and Subjects ................................................................................ 285 Index of Primary Sources ........................................................................................ 286

Looking behind the Curtain: An Introduction to the Volume Markus Tiwald

1.

Features and Conceptions connected to the Q Hypothesis

This volume contains the proceedings of the conference The Q-Hypothesis Unveiled: Theological, Church-Political, Socio-Political, and Hermeneutical Issues behind the Sayings Source, funded by the DFG (Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft), and convened by Markus Tiwald in Essen/Germany, 27–29 August 2019. After several years in the research on the Sayings Source Q, I felt the urge to look behind the academic issues concerning Q and reflect on our scholarly assumptions on the second source that Matthew and Luke presumedly used. Thus, the focus of this conference was not to demonstrate the accuracy or inaccuracy of the Q hypothesis, but to highlight our scholarly projections on the “Sayings Source”. The conference aimed at a somewhat self-critical reflection on our own hypotheses and on the background matters behind these assumptions. It might be a truism that even scholars dedicated to ‘objectivity’ are not completely free from projection and prejudice. Nevertheless, we seldomly discuss the motives behind our research and rarely reflect on fashions and trends that also permeate our scholarly discourses. The discussion as to whether a second source for the Gospels of Matthew and Luke exists certainly is a thorny question in itself, but it often leads to an ideological fervour that goes well beyond what is warranted by its academic object and sometimes assumes quasi-religious dimensions, for proponents as for opponents of Q alike. Here it might be helpful to ‘look behind’ the curtain and reflect on our theological, church-political, socio-political, and hermeneutical conceptions that lie behind the assumption of Q. For me as an advocate of the Q hypothesis this is a matter of academic honesty. Thus in my own contribution to this volume I try to reflect my own projections and motives that set me on the Q trail. Going behind the mere discussion of Q’s plausibility allows for a glimpse at the primum movens of our scholarly engagement. Such reflections do not devaluate our recent work, but helps to contextualize it within the broader horizon of our presuppositions.

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2.

The Contributions in this Volume

2.1.

Keynote Lecture: Opting for a ‘Soft’ Q Hypothesis

Jens Schröter, Key Issues Concerning the Q Hypothesis: Synoptic Problem, Verbal Reconstruction, and the Message of Jesus Kindly, Jens Schröter has accepted to give the keynote lecture to this conference. His meticulous habilitation on the reception of logia-traditions in the Gospel of Mark, in Q, and in the Gospel of Thomas (Erinnerung an Jesu Worte, 1997) certainly was a milestone in the research of oral Jesus-traditions getting scribalized in different contexts. In his present contribution, he observes that the Synoptic problem is not only an exegetical, but also a methodological and hermeneutical task. In our attempts to resolve the Synoptic problem we are dealing only with probabilities rather than proofs. Meta-level reflections not only highlight the possibilities and limits of proposed solutions to the Synoptic problem, but also illuminate implicit agendas and interests. Schröter emphasizes that in principle the adoption of Q is useful in discussions of the Synoptic problem, but he also underlines the necessity of being aware that Q remains a scholarly hypothesis. Within Synoptic research as within the quest for the historical Jesus, the Q traditions therefore should have a similar status as the assumed preMarkan traditions or other pre-Synoptic traditions. His idea is to suggest a moderate, thus ‘soft’ version of the Q hypothesis as a perhaps more appropriate approach to Q and the Synoptic problem. This might also be a viable option to reach out to Q sceptics. Supporting a more moderate version of the Q hypothesis thus might strengthen it in the discussion about the Synoptic problem and the quest for early Jesus tradition.

2.2.

Looking back in History: The 19th and 20th Century

The birth of the Two Document Hypothesis (henceforth: 2DH) and thus also of Q-studies did not happen in a vacuum but was connected with political and sociological developments that deeply affected the countries and churches in the 19th and 20th century. Thus, it seems necessary to highlight the diverging contexts of confessions and nationalities in which the 2DH could emerge. Lukas Bormann, Das Interesse an Markuspriorität, Logienquelle und Zweiquellentheorie im deutschen Protestantismus des 19. Jahrhunderts Lukas Bormann takes a glimpse at the beginnings of the 2DH and reads these against the backdrop of Protestant Germany in the 19th century. He points out that the presupposed ‘objectivity’ of scholarly research on the 2DH served the

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desire to demonstrate the ‘authenticity’ of the Protestant doctrine. After Karl Lachmann it was no longer sustainable that the Gospels of Matthew and John were written by eyewitnesses. Because of the Markan priority new ways of proving the ‘authenticity’ of Protestant teachings had to be found. When Christian Hermann Weiße (1801–1866), Christian Gottlob Wilke (1788–1854), and Heinrich Julius Holtzmann (1832–1910) developed the 2DH, Adolf von Harnack (1851–1930) took recourse to the Sayings Source, which he deemed to be “more precious” than the Gospel of Mark in maintaining “original” Jesus traditions. Today we know that this is exaggerated, but these developments have helped us to understand the Gospels as historical texts being subjugated to an historical process of transmission. Christopher Tuckett, The Reception of Q Studies in the UK: No room at the inn? At the start of the 20th century, British scholarship enthusiastically adopted the 2DH. But this changed with the work of W. R. Farmer and his revival of the Griesbach Hypothesis. Later on there was a strong advocacy for the Farrer Hypothesis (FH), indebted to the work of Austin Farrer and Michael Goulder. According to Tuckett, some key elements keep recurring in many of the arguments by British scholars. One is a strong aversion to sources that are ‘hypothetical’, another is that postulating Q is ‘unnecessary’, and a third is an appeal to what is ‘simple’ and/or straightforward as the most likely explanation of the source question. Some of the arguments offered by British Q-sceptics correlate with trends within British philosophy. Thus, the claim that Q is ‘hypothetical’ correlates in one way with philosophical movements such as empiricism and perhaps logical positivism, both of which have been very influential within British philosophy (cf. figures such as Locke, Berkeley, Hume, Russell, Ayer). So too the argument appealing to ‘simplicity’ echoes (sometimes explicit in the modern arguments about Q) the work of William of Ockham and the principle of ‘Occam’s razor’. While one cannot claim that the arguments developed by British scholars against Q are the sole preserve of the British, there are some aspects of these arguments which might correlate with other features of British society, British life, and British ways of thinking which make a position of Q-scepticism at the very least congenial within a British context. Paul Foster, The Rise and Development of the Farrer Hypothesis After the general overview of Christopher Tuckett to the situation in the UK, Paul Foster now zooms in for a closer look at the Farrer Hypothesis (FH). The FH has to be considered the major rival competitor to the 2DH in the Synoptic Problem and thus deserves a special chapter in this book. During the period from the 1960s until the 1990s it is fair to say that the major rival alternative to the widely accepted 2DH was the Griesbach hypothesis, or perhaps more correctly the neo-Griesbach hypothesis. Farrer’s work attracted some limited support in the period from the 1950s to the 1980s. However, growth in support became

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more widespread from the 1990s onwards, to the extent that it might now be correctly seen as the major rival proposal to the 2DH. British scholars who followed the Farrer hypothesis and added support to it in published works discussing the synoptic problem include Michael Goulder, John Drury, Eric Franklin, Barbara Shellard, and Mark Goodacre, who has become the standardbearer for the Farrer hypothesis, or, as he would prefer it to be known, the Mark without Q (MwQ) hypothesis. After Goodacre, Francis Watson provided one of the more recent attempts to resolve the synoptic problem along the lines of the Farrer or MwQ hypothesis in his 2013 monograph. He deviates from Goodacre in two major ways. First, he gives a larger function to the role of a sayings collection in his solution to the synoptic problem. Second, he rejects the idea that this sayings collection reached the evangelists in oral form. Support for the Farrer hypothesis has always been strongest in Britain, having primarily been disseminated by scholars teaching, studying, or presenting lecture series at the University of Oxford. Markus Tiwald, The Investment of Roman Catholics in the 2DH and Q Catholicism in the 19th and the first half of the 20th century built up a fundamental opposition towards the challenges of modern exegesis. Especially the 2DH was seen as a major threat, because it denied that the author of the Gospel of Matthew was an eyewitness. The peak of these tendencies was reached in the oath against ‘modernism’, decreed by Pope Pius X in 1910 and remaining in force until 1967. The real breakthrough came only with the Second Vatican Council, which lasted from 1962–1965. The council’s declaration Dei Verbum dates from 1965 and states that inerrancy only refers to truths concerning our salvation and not scientific claims (e.g., the creation of the world in seven days). In the time after Vatican II, Catholic scholars had a big backlog demand in the area of biblical exegesis. Especially the former forbidden ‘Sayings Source’ served as a means of projections here. Ideas of ‘itinerant charismatics’ (brought up by Gerd Theißen and Paul Hoffmann in 1972) were eagerly accepted to advocate for a charismatic and poor church with fraternal structures. The quest for the ‘historical Jesus’ and the search for Jesus’ ‘original’ intention finally had reached Catholicism – with a delay of 200 years, since in Protestantism these matters had already been brought up by Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (1729–1781). Joseph Verheyden, Introducing “Q” in French Catholic Scholarship at the Turn of the 19th and 20th Century: Alfred Loisy’s “Évangiles synoptiques” It took a certain heroism in Catholic quarters in the first half of the 20th century to speak up for Q, or for any other theory related to historical-critical scholarship and considered ‘innovative’ by the magisterium. Les Évangiles synoptiques, Loisy’s opus magnum, was published in two volumes in 1907–1908. The goal was nothing less than to contribute to the restauration of biblical studies among the French clergy. According to Loisy, the best way forward was

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not to get stuck in hopeless debates but to try to reconcile tradition and “sound criticism”, “joindre en toutes choses la docilité prudente du théologien à la sincérité du savant, sans sacrifier l’une à l’autre”, as Loisy said. For him Mark is the source of Matthew and Luke; any material the latter two have in common stems from Papias’ Hebrew gospel that would have been “principalement didactique” compared to Mark’s narrative gospel. All remaining material, the Sondergut, comes from indistinctive sources – written or oral. “Q” for him takes only a minimal place and is a mere detail in the study of the gospels that does not really need any particular attention from the critical scholar. Verheyden coins the category of “diplomatic language” to qualify Loisy’s discourse with the Catholic ministry. All controversies and all initiatives for self-defence notwithstanding, scholars like Loisy above all wanted to continue their biblical research in an atmosphere as serene as possible while keeping true to the standards of critical biblical scholarship.

2.3.

Q and Social Sciences

After the historical retrospective, the focus now is directed at the present time. The contributions of Gerd Theißen and Marco Frenschkowski both deal with sociological concepts as a means of interpretation of Q. Nevertheless, both reach different results in judging the itinerancy in Jesus’ ministry. Gerd Theißen, Itinerant Radicalism: The Origin of an Exegetical Theory It is the big merit of Gerd Theißen of having integrated sociological aspects in his studies of early Christianity. Already in his inaugural lecture as “Privatdozent” in November 1972, he advocated the thesis that homeless wandering charismatics had transmitted the words of Jesus by living up to their master’s homeless, itinerant, and peaceful ethos. Theißen detected their homelessness as symptomatic of a crisis within Jewish society, and Jesus’ response as a creative form of peaceful revolution under the auspices of the coming reign of God. This assumption has triggered many reactions, from fervent acceptance to total rejection. Gerd Theißen was accused of having projected the spirit of the 1968-movement onto the biblical narratives. In his present paper, he does not defend his theories but contributes some further details to the sociological context in which the thesis of itinerant radicalism was born. He mentions his personal biographical context, the political circumstances, the development of social sciences, and the state of exegesis and theology as normative factors for his thesis. He demonstrates that scholarly research always is influenced by external factors like biographical events, politics, and sociological conceptions.

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Marco Frenschkowski, Itinerant Charismatics and Travelling Artisans – Was Jesus’ Travelling Lifestyle Induced by His Artisan Background? The contribution of Marco Frenschkowski continues the sociological perspective of Gerd Theißen, but other than Theißen he does not see an emblematic lifestyle from the beginning behind Jesus’ itinerancy. He rather locates Jesus’ lifestyle in his background as wandering artisan. The juxtaposition of his paper with that of Theißen may demonstrate how much our exegetical results are also due to our sociological frame of reference. First, Frenschkowski illustrates what being a τέκτων (Jesus’ profession according to Mk 6:3) might have meant in those times. As we have learned, a τέκτων is somebody working with stone and wood, not exactly just a carpenter, but someone who builds larger objects such as houses, especially doors, yokes for oxen, ships and perhaps also barns and roads. Nevertheless, the word has rather general meanings, can be applied to different crafts, and can even take on a more general meaning: “master, in any art”. Without discussing all vicissitudes of the question what exactly a τέκτων might have done in first century Galilee – probably he did what was needed in house and ship building and perhaps other fields. The embarrassment of Church fathers about Jesus being a τέκτων demonstrates the low social status of this profession. Frenschkowski mentions that itinerancy of artisans was common in those times and underlines this with a plethora of examples. His suggestion is that Jesus started his preaching and healing career as a traveller in wood and perhaps stone work because this was what he was doing anyway. This would mean that Jesus never chose the itinerant lifestyle. Rather, it was his way of living since his early youth. Frenschkowski also shows with many examples preaching and travelling crafts could combine quite well. Editor’s (M. Tiwald’s) remark on the papers of G. Theißen and M. Frenschkowski In my view, the diverging positions of Theißen (emblematic itinerancy) and Frenschkowski (travelling lifestyle induced by Jesus’ background as wandering artisan) can be reconciled. Frenschkowski’s depiction of Jesus as a travelling craftsman seems quite convincing to me. Most probably, his itinerant lifestyle during the time of his public mission can also be traced back to his past as a wandering artisan. Neverthess, this does not exclude an emblematic reinterpretaion of his past in the light of the emerging kingdom of God. Jesus’ former life now takes on a new meaning: like his poverty, his itinerancy is also reinterpreted as an emblematic virtue instead of a necessity for mere survival. For Jesus, the kingdom of God changes the perspective of everything: what previously was considered a deficiency (lack of money, lack of stable working conditions) now becomes a virtue (cf. the beatitudes for the poor, the hungry and the weeping, Q 6:20). Jesuanic creativity opens up new possibilities: the needs and pressures of a poor life are now transformed into signs of emblematic election in the light of God’s upcoming kingdom.

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Gender Studies and Q

When we are talking about sociological contexts that form our theological perceptions, then it is not only fair but mandatory to include gender aspects here. The gender gap is especially high in Q-scholarship – maybe even higher than in the rest of NT studies. Certainly, Paul and his female co-workers might be more attractive as the seemingly ‘conservative’ Sayings Source. Nevertheless, the dearth of women in Q studies is striking – and should be given a closer look. Sarah E. Rollens, Where Are All the Women in Q Studies?: Gender Demographics and the Study of Q Female authors often write about topics being considered ‘female’, but Sarah Rollens clearly opts against the view that identities and experiences can be understood only by people who inhabit them – such concepts again will create a gender bias. ‘Women writing about women’ has often been perceived as a ‘soft’ topic, a safe space, in comparison to more rigorous scholarship that men have tended to carry out. Furthermore, biblical studies still routinely sees edited volumes, journal issues, and conference panels made up entirely of men. On social media, the constancy of such products are now the target of both critique and mocking, with female scholars and their allies regularly contacting the producers of such collections and panels to ask them to account for their lack of representation. Nevertheless, including a token woman in a conference accomplishes very little in the overall scheme of things. Rather, our aim should be to change our system from within. Our universities sometimes function as backward looking, conservative bastions. They reward scholarly activity that fits into predetermined measures of excellence and follows traditional methods for producing such scholars. It is thus challenging to propose new structural arrangements to achieve a more gender-balanced representation. Even if we cannot change the terrain of academia and expose everyone’s unconscious biases overnight, the first step is certainly to acknowledge the problem and to realize the extent of our unintentional complicity. The essay contains an appendix that lists all the women scholars who could be considered “Q scholars” or who have worked on Q in some substantive sense.

2.5.

The Sayings Souce in Academic Teaching and Systematic Theology

Last but not least there should be a special chapter on how our concepts of Q studies ‘condense’ in our academic teaching and in Systematic Theology.

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Hildegard Scherer, Learning Lessons on Q: The 2DH and Q in Academic Teaching Hildegard Scherer poses the question: “What types of social interaction have been used when teaching the Two-Document-Hypothesis (2DH)?” She refers to introductory books to the New Testament from the German-speaking area spanning from the turn of the 19th to the 20th century and then to the period from post-WWII until today. Scherer singles out two factors for her research: One is ‘expert power’, i.e. how we exercise power to convince others. The other factor is ‘time’ that is severely limited: in introductory books, the 2DH problem is only discussed on a limited span of pages and therefore necessarily schematic. The turn of the 20th century was a heyday of New Testament introduction text books. For both Catholic and Protestant scholars, the period was marked by intensive debate. The Catholics felt the restrictions of ‘anti-modernism’, which had manifested itself in the magisterial rescripts of the Pontificial Biblical Commission since 1905. These rescripts prohibited to argue in favour of the 2DH. However, also the Protestants were torn between Orthodoxy and Liberalism, and labelled by their opponents as either unscientific or destructive. Skipping the years of the two world wars, Scherer then examines the introductory books since the 1940s. Here the 2DH is presented as the most important theory underlining a presumed consensus among scholars. Finally, Scherer puts these introductory books to the test by comparing them with the requirements of the EU’s Bologna Criteria of good teaching practice. One of the Bologna keywords is the “orientation towards competences”: pupils shall not only accumulate knowledge but be enabled to use their skills in a solution-oriented way. Scherer concludes how important it is to practise fair teaching, leaving aside the tricky pitfalls of polemics, one-sidedness, incompleteness, majority moves or even identity creation. According to her, the main challenge consists of developing teaching settings that pay respect to the complexity of the topics but still work within the curricular limits of time. Ralf Miggelbrink, The Quest for the Historical Jesus and Q in the View of Systematic Theology Ralf Miggelbrink classically structures his paper in Thesis – Antithesis – Synthesis. In his Thesis, he points out that for the Catholic magisterium of the 19th century, a historical-critical look at Jesus was not considered appropriate for the ‘Son of God’. Besides, what could a historical-critical access contribute when the necessary doctrine about Jesus Christ had already been established by the Church? Jesus should not be interpreted according to historical plausibilities but according to trans-temporal salvific necessity. The Antithesis to such concepts was formed in the devotio moderna within the context of Reformation and Counter-Reformation. Especially the Jesuit movement stimulated the religious interest in Jesus as a human person suffering for us. The Christian discussion on the suffering of Jesus lasted up to the 6th century. The climax of this conflict is reached with Maximus Confessor, who was killed because he insisted on the idea

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that Christ actually suffered and felt human feelings. But how can we reconcile the ideas of Divine knowledge directly stemming from God with a real human life of learning, discussing and teaching? St. Thomas Aquinas solves this problem in a consequently Aristotelian way: the knowledge infused by God into Jesus (scientia infusa) is not defined knowledge, but the intellectual enabling to generate knowledge in a human way. The scientia infusa enables Jesus to achieve knowledge as scientia acquisita in a human way. St. Thomas leads to a solution that has been explained by Karl Rahner, as Miggelbrink explains in his Synthesis: incarnated divine omniscience does not mean knowing all, but being able to understand everything in the right way. Jesus perceives, thinks and decides in a human way that is inspired by God. In this situation, the critical and historical quest for Jesus, which asks for his probable intentions, intuitions and ideas is a way to clean our minds from our own ideas about Jesus, in order to come closer to this figure in which Divine Wisdom explains itself historically as a model for all those who strive to be disciples of Jesus in our days.

 

Key Issues Concerning the Q Hypothesis: Synoptic Problem, Verbal Reconstruction, and the Message of Jesus Jens Schröter

1.

Introduction

The purpose of this volume and the conference on which it is based is not to prove or disprove the Q hypothesis. Instead, the focus is on implicit presuppositions of the Q hypothesis in different scholarly discourses and cultural settings. Such an approach is appropriate for two reasons. First, there is no straightforward solution to the Synoptic problem which would solve the textual and historical problems. The Synoptic problem is therefore not only an exegetical, but also a methodological and hermeneutical task. In other words, because in our attempts to “resolve the Synoptic problem … we are dealing only in the realm of probabilities rather than ‘proofs’”1, meta-level reflections not only highlight the possibilities and limits of proposed solutions to Synoptic problem, but also illuminate implicit agendas and interests. Second, a particular characteristic of the Q hypothesis is that it is not based on a text, attested by manuscript evidence or citations from ancient Christian authors, but on a scholarly theory, developed in the 19th century.2 Although there are good reasons to presuppose common traditions behind Matthew and Luke (see below), the missing of any external evidence is a striking difference to other Gospels or Gospel-like texts from which we have only limited knowledge, such as the Egerton Gospel, the Gospel of the Hebrews or the Gospel of Peter. Unlike “Q”, these and many other early Christian Gospel texts are attested either by (even in some cases only scanty) manuscript evidence or by citations from ancient Christian authors. The Q hypothesis, by contrast, is dependent on a specific solution of the Synoptic problem and supposes a text which does not exist, and without the discovery of a manuscript it cannot be proven that it ever existed. These circumstances determine the place of the Q hypothesis in the 1 2

See Kloppenborg, Theological Stakes, 11. A helpful overview on the Q hypothesis among other solutions of the Synoptic problem and the history of Q is provided by Kloppenborg Verbin, Excavating, esp. chapters 1 “Q and the Synoptic Problem” (11–54) and 6 “The Jesus of History and the History of Dogma. Theological Currents in the Synoptic Problem” (271–328).

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discussion of the Synoptic problem, the development of the early Jesus tradition and the quest for the historical Jesus. In this keynote I want to raise some issues which result from the presuppositions of the Q hypothesis. I will not put forward new arguments for or against the Q hypothesis. Instead I will reflect about the possibilities and limits of a solution of the Synoptic problem with the Q hypothesis as a formative component. Because in my remarks I will ask some critical questions concerning the Q hypothesis in recent scholarship, I want to emphasize that in principle I regard the adoption of Q as useful in discussions of the Synoptic problem. The key question, however, concerns the opportunities and limits of the Q hypothesis.3 In other words: Any Synoptic theory which includes the Q hypothesis should be aware of the specific character of this hypothesis which distinguishes a Synoptic model with Q from any other Synoptic theory.4 In the last decades the Q hypothesis was developed in a certain direction by the “International Q Project” (IQP) and scholars who accept the general assumptions of this line of Q research. The IQP has claimed that Q was a document with a distinct provenance, literary genre and setting within the early Jesus movement and even aimed at reconstructing a text of Q.5 The problem with this approach is that it gives the impression that “Q” could be regarded in the same way as texts which, unlike Q, are attested by manuscripts or at least by explicit quotations. From the specific character of Q as a scholarly hypothesis, however, it follows that the uncertainties and open questions of this assumed source regarding its extent, literary character and theological profile must be taken into account when interpreting these texts.6 In the following remarks I will therefore first ask how the Q hypothesis can be located in the discussion of the Synoptic problem in a way that takes the specific character of Q into consideration. Next, I will look at the possibilities and limits of a verbal reconstruction of Q. Finally, I will take a quick look at the possible contribution 3 4

5

6

See Wolter, Reconstructing Q. This does of course not mean that a Synoptic theory without Q would be “simpler” or less hypothetical than a model with Q. However, a Synoptic model with Q has to consider the peculiarities which emerge from a supposed document or assumed common traditions behind Matthew and Luke. The result of this enterprise was published as: Robinson et al., Critical Edition. A shorter German edition of a Q text of the IQP was published as: Hoffmann and Heil, Spruchquelle. Even if it is true that the character of a hypothesis is to provide a plausible explanation for the available data and it is likewise true that all Synoptic theories are based on some sort of hypothesis (see Kloppenborg Verbin, Excavating, 11–12), it should not be overlooked that a second-stage-hypothesis (i.e. a hypothesis that is based on another hypothesis, namely on Markan priority) and which supposes a text without any external evidence has its limits with regard to the existence, provenance, and shape of such a document. The question of how this specific presupposition has to be considered in any interpretation of Q still remains to be discussed.

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of Q to the quest of the historical Jesus. By way of summary I will turn to the question of implicit premises involved in the Q hypothesis. In particular I will ask why, despite several ambiguities and uncertainties, a strong version of the Q hypothesis has been developed and defended in recent research. Against this view I will suggest a moderate, “soft” version of the Q hypothesis as a perhaps more appropriate approach to Q and the Synoptic problem.

2.

Q and the Synoptic Problem

As is well known, the Q hypothesis was the “byproduct” of a specific solution of the Synoptic problem. The two basic assumptions are Markan priority and the independence of Matthew and Luke. However, it should not be overlooked that unresolved issues of this model were recognized from the very beginning. As a consequence, additional hypotheses were introduced and other solutions of the Synoptic problem were suggested. In recent discussion, Mark Goodacre and Francis Watson, building on previous approaches of Austin Farrer and Michael Goulder,7 have argued that Luke not only knows Mark but also Matthew.8 Unlike Goodacre, Watson assumes the existence of an early sayings collection, although he does not regard this as a common sayings source adopted independently by Matthew and Luke.9 Therefore, even if Markan priority is accepted and the existence of an early sayings collection is taken for granted, Q is not necessarily a formative component of a solution to the Synoptic problem. Any discussion of the 2DH has therefore to consider that it is only one model within a broader debate about the Synoptic problem in which various theories and sub-theories were developed.10 Even if the 2DH – i.e.: Markan priority, the existence of some sort of “Q”, the independence of Matthew and Luke as well as independence of Mark and Q as its basic components – is accepted, it has to be taken into account that it is an abstract model which does not reflect the actual relationships between the Synoptic Gospels, their traditions and sources. Instead, it is a heuristic tool for the explanation of a much more complex situation concerning the Synoptic Gospels and their traditions. This basic insight is not always kept in mind, however, when it comes to the interpretation of particular texts and, even more importantly, to the treatment of the common non-Markan traditions of Matthew and Luke (i.e., of “Q”). By contrast, Q is often treated as if it were a 7 8

9 10

Goodacre, Case; Id., Goulder; Watson, Gospel Writing. For a critical assessment of this model see Kloppenborg, New Paradigm; Id., On Dispensing. See Watson, Gospel Writing. See Vassiliadis, Q-Document.

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proven text which could be interpreted with regard to its formation,11 its literary genre,12 social and political profile,13 and its theology.14 A complex relationship of the Synoptic Gospels which is explained by the 2DH only in a superficial way becomes evident by some obvious observations. Already from the outset, it seems unlikely that Matthew and Luke independently of each other have integrated the same sources (Mark and Q) into their Jesus stories, added infancy narratives at the beginning and appearance stories at the end and supplemented their accounts by several other traditions. In addition, it is by no means evident that all of the non-Markan traditions common to Matthew and Luke (and only these traditions) originated from one and the same source. Moreover, the so-called “minor agreements” of Matthew and Luke15 as well as the Mark/Q-overlaps16 point to more complex relationships between the Synoptic Gospels. Thus, it is no accident that the 2DH was supplemented by additional theories, such as different versions of Q used by Matthew and Luke, the assumption of an “Ur-Mark” which may explain the differences between Mark on the one hand and Matthew and Luke on the other,17 or a “Deutero11

12

13

14 15 16

17

An influential stratigraphic model was developed by Kloppenborg, Formation. See also Id., Literary Convention; Id., Sayings Gospel. Kloppenborg builts on previous redactioncritical studies of Q such as those of Dieter Lührmann, Athanasius Polag and Arland Jacobson, and develops them further with special regard to the question of literary genre and social history of the Q people. The result of his analysis is that Q consisted of a formative stratum of wisdom speeches which was subsequently expanded by a redactional stratum with the announcement of judgement and the temptation story as a late addition. This stratigraphy would reflect the history of the Q people who with their message of Jesus faced rejection and hostility in Israel. Moreover, he places Q within the instructional genre of ancient wisdom collections and distinguishes it from the quest of the historical Jesus. Kloppenborg’s theory became very influential in certain circles of Q studies, especially in North American scholarship, where it was regarded as the basis for the study of the origin and development of Q. However, the question was also raised from early on whether it would be possible to explore the formation of a hypothetical document by identifying successive layers of its composition. In recent research the narrative character of Q was emphasized, e.g. by Labahn, Der Gekommene; Id., Sinn in Sinnlosen; Witetschek, Was erzählen. See Bazzana, Village Scribes. See Tiwald, Logienquelle. For a more recent approach to the minor agreements see Baum, Faktor. See the study by Fleddermann, Mark and Q. See also Laufen, Doppelüberlieferungen; Schüling, Studien. This theory was popular already in the 19th century. Scholars such as Christian Gottlob Wilke, Christian Hermann Weisse and Gustav Volkmar recognized that the assumption of Markan priority needs to be supplemented by a differentiation between the version of Mark used by Matthew and Luke on the one hand and canonical Mark on the other. According to Weisse, this version of Mark may even have consisted of the non-Markan traditions of Matthew and Luke which could hardly have been part of a collection of sayings of Jesus, such as John’s announcement of judgment, the temptation story, Jesus’ inaugural speech, the story about the centurion from Capernaum and the complex about

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Mark” may even have consisted of parts of the Q-material before it was taken over by Matthew and Luke,18 different versions of Mark and Q used by Matthew and Luke, some sort of relationship between Mark and Q,19 and smooth transitions between the Q texts and the Matthean and Lukan Sondergut. This supports a flexible form of the 2DH and a more moderate approach to Q. For more detailed explanation, the possibilities and limits for determining the relationships of the Synoptic Gospels to each other should be considered. As is well known, the main reason for adopting Markan priority in the 19th century was the argument from order, not a comparison of individual passages. A detailed analysis of parallel episodes in Mark and Matthew or Mark and Luke, by contrast, would hardly lead to the conclusion that Mark has always preserved more primitive versions of individual traditions. For example, the healing of the lame in Mark 2:1–12 is a longer and more elaborated account than the parallel in Mt 9:1–8, whereas Luke provides a third version which has some minor agreements with Matthew (Luke 5:17–26). Likewise, the Markan parable of the vineyards (Mark 12:1–12) can be regarded as an expanded form of a parable of which Luke and the Gospel of Thomas (henceforth: GTh) have preserved earlier versions which lack the elements from Isa 5 present in Mark 12:1.20 To regard the other versions as later redactions of Mark hardly follows from a comparison of the individual versions, but is only plausible if Markan priority is already presupposed. The basic argument for Markan priority formulated in the 19th century by Karl Lachmann was therefore that Matthew and Luke would follow the same narrative order only insofar as they follow Mark.21 Wherever they differ from Mark, they go their separate ways.22 Consequently, any theory about the relationship of the Synoptic Gospels to each other relies on observations about their overall narrative structure, whereas the use of individual traditions in the Synoptic Gospels has to be analyzed in a case-by-case study. Since a narrative framework of a second source besides Mark can only be determined within

18 19

20 21 22

John and Jesus. See Weisse, Evangelienfrage. The Urmark-hypothesis was also part of Heinrich Julius Holtzmann’s influential study “Die synoptischen Evangelien. Ihr Ursprung und geschichtlicher Charakter.” The theory of a Deutero-Mark was vehemently defended by Fuchs, Spuren. The relationship of Mark and Q is a necessary component of the 2DH since there are obvious overlaps between them. In a strict version of the 2DH Mark and Q are regarded as independent, but there are also advocates of a dependence of Mark on Q. See e.g. Fleddermann, Q. See the detailed analysis by Kloppenborg, Tenants. Lachmann, De ordine. It should be acknowledged, however, that Lachmann did not conclude from this observation that Matthew and Luke used Mark directly, but that Mark was the first to bring the early Jesus traditions, consisting of five older collections, into a coherent narrative. According to Lachmann, Matthew and Luke would have used this common tradition independently of Mark and complemented it with other traditions (the so-called Sondergut).

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certain limits,23 Matthew’s and Luke’s treatment of such a source remains largely hypothetical. The assumption, widely shared today, that Luke would have followed the order of Q more accurately than Matthew,24 is therefore debatable, and other solutions are also possible.25 Thus, the argument from order as it is derived from Mark cannot be applied to Q, because we do not know the criteria according to which Matthew and Luke included the Q material into their narratives. According to the basic definition of the 2DH hypothesis, “Q” is the nonMarkan material common to Matthew and Luke. Papias’ remark about the “Logia” compiled by Matthew in Hebrew language, which was taken as an external testimony for a second source besides Mark by many scholars in the 19th century, is hardly considered a proof for the existence of Q today.26 The determination of the extent, literary genre and wording of Q is thus entirely dependent on observations on the non-Markan material of Matthew and Luke itself. Sometimes the scope of a “minimal Q” is extended by texts which may have been omitted by one evangelist. For example, the last of the three dialogues about following Jesus in Luke 9:61–62, the parable of the lost coin in Luke 15:8– 1027 or the woes against the rich in Luke 6:24–26 which may have been omitted by Matthew. The crucial question of the Q hypothesis, however, is how the “negative theory” of Q – non-Markan material of Matthew and Luke; no relationship between Matthew and Luke28 – can be transformed into a positive descripttion of Q as an early Gospel or Gospel-like text with a distinct literary character 23

24

25

26

27 28

There are some narrative elements in Q, such as the reference to certain places, such as Jerusalem, the desert, Capernaum, Chorazin and Bethsaïda, the characterization of groups like the Pharisees and the scribes or individual figures such as John and Jesus. However, an overall narrative context is hardly discernible. This may be due to the fact that there were no or only rudimentary narrative connections between the individual units or that more developed narrative elements are not discernbible anymore because they were reworked by Matthew and Luke. According to this assumption, the Q texts are today often numbered according to Luke’s Gospel. This may evoke the impression that the order of Q texts could be reconstructed from Matthew and Luke. However, such an assumption is not without problems because it is hardly possible to reconstruct the order of the Q texts which are integrated in distinctive ways in the narrative concepts of Matthew and Luke. Cf. e.g. Harnack, Sprüche und Reden. Harnack concludes that Matthew has preserved the order of Q more accurately than Luke. An exception is Frenschkowski, Matthäus. However, it is doubtful whether Papias’ statement should be regarded as a reference to Q. See the discussion by Fleddermann, Lost Coin. Tuckett, Existence, rightly observes: “At one level, the Q hypothesis is simply a negative theory, denying the possibility that one evangelist [i.e. either Matthew or Luke, J. S.] made direct use of the work of the other” (53). The “negative determination” of Q can be extended to the other part of the Q hypothesis, namely that Q consists more or less of the common non-Markan material of Matthew and Luke, as well.

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and content, which would represent a distinct trajectory in the early Jesus tradition and even lead back to the historical Jesus. Already from the outset it is evident that the Q traditions consist of a broad spectrum in genre and provenance. This is not a problem for the Q hypothesis as such, although it has often been argued that a sayings collection could hardly consist of narrative texts such as the preaching of John the Baptist, the temptation story or the healing of the centurion’s son. However, this is incorrect as many examples of such collections demonstrate. Moreover, such an argument is in danger of becoming circular since the character of Q as a sayings collection is already presupposed and then confirmed by the exclusion of such texts which would allegedly not fit to such a collection. That texts of different genres – sayings collections, healing stories, chreiai etc. – can be part of one and the same writing is proven by the Synoptic Gospels themselves which contain even a much broader spectrum of literary genres than the Q texts. However, the assumption that all of the non-Markan texts shared by Matthew and Luke were derived from the same source is by no means evident or even likely. Moreover, it is impossible to know which texts of such a source were only preserved by Matthew or Luke – i.e., which of the so-called Sondergut texts may have belonged to Q. It can also not be excluded that Q texts were omitted by Matthew and Luke and are therefore lost or perhaps preserved in noncanonical gospels such as the Gospel of Thomas or the Gospel of the Hebrews. The extent and literary genre of Q therefore remain ambiguous. The treatment of Mark by Matthew and Luke, which is often referred to, is a rather dubious analogy. The observation that Mark’s gospel is almost completely preserved in Matthew and Luke is tempered by a remarkable difference between these two gospels. As is well-known, Luke has left out a considerable part of Mark (Mark 6:45–8:26, the so-called “Lukan omission”) that without manuscript evidence would consequently appear as Matthean Sondergut. Q may have been treated differently by Luke, but this would be difficult, if not impossible, to prove. Moreover, Jesus’ speech in parables according to Mark 4 was treated remarkably different by Matthew and Luke. Whereas Luke has reduced it to one parable (the sower) which is subsequently interpreted as hearing God’s word in the right way, Matthew has expanded it by other parables to one of Jesus’ fundamental speeches which foreshadows the division between acceptance and rejection of Jesus in Israel. These examples demonstrate that neither the extent nor the order of Mark could be reconstructed from Matthew and Luke and that a considerable part of Mark would appear as Matthean Sondergut. It can at least not be excluded that this, by analogy, is the case with Q as well. Another problem in determining the Q material is the relationship between the so-called minor and major agreements between Matthew and Luke. As is well known, both categories overlap and cannot clearly be distinguished from one another. Clear cases of Q texts, i.e. texts known to Matthew and Luke, but not to Mark, are e.g. the structured speeches composed from individual sayings or

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smaller sayings clusters, such as the compositions about loving one’s enemies (Matt 5:39–48/Luke 6:27–36), not worrying about food and clothes (Matt 6:25– 33/Luke 12:22–31) and the encouragement to confession without fear (10:26– 33/Lk 12:2–12).29 Although there are differences between Matthew and Luke, it is obvious that they rely on common written sources besides Mark. Some of these texts contain ethical teachings of Jesus to his followers. This is also the case with shorter speeches about the conditions of discipleship such as Matt 8:19–22/Luke 9:57–62 and Matt 10:37–38/Luke 14:26–27. Because these texts share a common structure and content and show a high degree of verbal correspondence, it is quite likely that they originated from the same strand of the early Jesus tradition and belonged to the same written document. In other cases, such as the parables of the Great Banquet (Matt 22:1–10.11– 14/Luke 14:16–24) or the proverb about insipid salt (Matt 5:13/Luke 14:34–35) it is less clear whether they should be ascribed to the same source. It is at least not more likely than in the case of the parable of the virgins in Matt 25:1–12 or a saying like Matt 7:6 which may have been left out by Luke. Another case are the so-called Mark/Q-overlaps. It is sometimes difficult to decide which level of agreement against Mark leads to the assumption of a second version of the same episode accessible to Matthew and Luke, and whether this version is just a variant of the Markan episode or an independent version, and whether this independent version should be ascribed to Q. Thus, the distinction between the Mark/Q-overlaps and the triple tradition, i.e., texts which were taken over directly from Mark, is sometimes fuzzy. To take an example: The Beelzebul pericope, which is part of the triple tradition, consists of several agreements of Matthew and Luke against Mark.30 Some of them, especially the exorcism at the beginning of the episode (Matt 12:22/Luke 11:14) and the sayings about Jesus’ exorcisms as the dawning of God’s kingdom in contrast to those of other Jewish exorcists (Matt 12:27–28/Luke 11:19–20), may be regarded as major agreements, whereas the lack of the characterization of the opponents as coming from Jerusalem (Mark 3:22), the missing of the accusation “he has Beelzebul” (Mark 3:22), the characterization of Jesus’ speech as “in parables” (ἐν παραβολαῖς, Mk 3:23) and the absent rhetorical question πῶς δύναται σατανᾶς σατανᾶν ἐκβάλλειν (Mk 3:23) as well as some minor variations shared by Matthew and Luke may be counted as minor agreements. Moreover, in Q the Beelzebul pericopae may have been connected to the sayings about the returning of the evil Spirit (Matt 12:43–45/Luke 11:24– 26) and the demand for a sign (Matt 12:43–45/Luke 11:16.29–32). These observations make it likely that Matthew and Luke had access to a non-Markan variant 29

30

One could add Mt 7:1–5/Lk 6:37–42; Mt 7:7–11/Lk 11:9–13; Mt 7:16–20/Lk 6:43–45. See Piper, Wisdom. I have analyzed the Synoptic versions of this text, including GTh 35, elsewhere in detail: Schröter, Erinnerung, 240–299.

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of the Beelzebul controversy, which consequently belongs to the texts shared by Matthew and Luke with a parallel in Mark. These texts also include the mission speech, the sayings about taking one’s cross and following Jesus, and some more traditions. Mark and Q may therefore have been closer to each other than it sometimes appears. A more difficult case is the appearance of John the Baptist and the baptism of Jesus. The agreements of Matthew and Luke against Mark in these episodes may again partly be classified as minor agreements – as e.g. the phrase πᾶσα ἡ περίχωρος τοῦ Ἰορδάνου (Matt 3:5/Lk 3:3), the passive infinitive βαπτισθῆναι (Matt 3:13/Luke 3:21), the participle βαπτισθείς or βαπτισθέντος (Mat 3:16/Luke 3:21) over against Mark’s ἐβαπτίσθη and the use of ἀνοίγω instead of σχίζω (Matt 3:16/Lk 3:21; cf. Mark 1:10), partly as major agreements such as the preaching of judgement by John the Baptist (Matt 3:7–10; Luke 3:7–9) and the announcement of the coming One by John in Matt 3:12/Lk 3:17. These agreements again point to a different version of the beginning of the Jesus story by the depiction of John the Baptist and the baptism of Jesus, accessible to Matthew and Luke. Whether this version was part of manuscripts of Mark’s Gospel used by Matthew and Luke, whether it belonged to another version of the Jesus story and how this would be related to “Q” is difficult to determine.31 Perhaps it was part of a Jesus story besides Mark which also started with the characterization of John the Baptist and the baptism of Jesus. This assumption could be supported by the observation that the opening section of Mark with the conflation of two quotations from scripture introduced with “as it is written in the prophet Isaiah”, the abbreviated characterization of John’s preaching of repentance and the condensed account of Jesus’ temptation may represent a shortened version of a more extensive narrative. Another case are chreiai with a parallel in Mark which share some characteristics peculiar to Matthew and Luke. An example is the controversy about healing on a Sabbath in Mark 3:1–6. This episode is taken over in Matthew 12:9– 14 and Luke 6:6–11. However, Matthew has expanded Jesus’ response by a justification that is absent from Mark and Luke in Matt 12:11: τίς ἔσται ἐξ ὑμῶν ἄνθρωπος ὃς ἕξει πρόβατον ἓν καὶ ἐὰν ἐμπέσῃ τοῦτο τοῖς σάββασιν εἰς βόθυνον, οὐχὶ κρατήσει αὐτὸ καὶ ἐγερεῖ;

A similar saying occurs in the last Sabbath controversy in Luke’s Gospel in Luke 14:5:

31

The question is important because it makes a difference whether “Q” consisted of a version of the baptism of Jesus or not. If this is assumed, the narrative character of Q would be strengthened.

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τίνος ὑμῶν υἱὸς ἢ βοῦς εἰς φρέαρ πεσεῖται, καὶ οὐκ εὐθέως ἀνασπάσει αὐτὸν ἐν ἡμέρᾳ τοῦ σαββάτου;32

Although both sayings hardly match in wording, they share the form of a rhetorical question addressed to Jesus’ opponents, and the justification of Jesus’ behavior on a Sabbath by pointing to Jewish Sabbath regulations. Because of these coincidences, Frans Neirynck has included these sayings in his edition of “Q-Parallels” which refrains from a reconstruction of the Q text and instead prints the Matthean and the Lukan text on opposite pages (although a later edition of the Q parallels is published together with the reconstructed Q text of the IQP).33 The saying is also included in the reconstruction of Q by Harry Fleddermann who reconstructs a Q text mainly on the basis of Matthew.34 If one decides against an inclusion of Matt 12:11/Lk 14:5 in Q, as many reconstructions of Q do, the question remains how to explain the coincidence of an argument about Jesus’ behavior on the Sabbath as part of a controversy story in Matthew and Luke over against Mark. A possible solution would be to regard these rhetorical questions as taken over by Matthew and Luke from oral tradition. However, this solution could also be applied to other isolated sayings or small clusters usually regarded as Q texts, such as Matt 5:13/Luke 14:34–35 (the insipid salt) or the saying “all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted” which occurs once in Matthew (23:12) and twice in Luke (14:11; 18:14) each time in an entirely different context. The saying has close relationships to Jewish tradition35 as well as to other New Testament passages36 and may have circulated in the early Jesus tradition before it was integrated in different ways in the Jesus narratives of Matthew and Luke. These observations challenge a strong version of the Q hypothesis. A more modest approach to Q, which does not abandon the Q hypothesis in favor of a “Mark without Q” solution, but does not aim at recovering the extent and even the wording of Q either, would also be appropriate with regard to the genre of Q. The definition as a sayings collection (or Sayings Gospel) which was subsequently expanded by narrative traditions such as the healing of the centurion’s servant and the temptation story are in danger of becoming circular, since they presuppose that the collection of sayings of Jesus was the formative element of Q, which is far from certain.37 32

33 34 35 36 37

A third, more removed version of this argumentative strategy occurs in Luke 13:15: ἕκαστος ὑμῶν τῷ σαββάτῳ οὐ λύει τὸν βοῦν αὐτοῦ ἢ τὸν ὄνον ἀπὸ τῆς φάτνης καὶ ἀπαγαγὼν ποτίζει; Neirynck, Q Parallels. Fleddermann, Q, 707–713; 902–903. Ezek 21:31; 22:29; Job 5:11; Sir 10:14; Prov 3:34. Lk 1:52; Jas 4:5; 1Pet 5:5. It cannot be excluded that sayings and sayings clusters were connected to narrative traditions in the Jesus tradition from the very beginning of the transmission process. The Q texts may therefore reveal traces of early narratives about Jesus which later became

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From early on scholars have also pointed to narrative elements in Q serving as introductions to the sayings or speeches. In more recent times it has even been suggested that Q may be regarded as a narrative presentation of Jesus as the Son of Man who was rejected in Israel but will return as Son of Man to the coming judgement.38 The Gospel of Thomas, by contrast, despite often being referred to as an analogy to Q as an early sayings collection,39 is an entirely different case. The speculation that the GTh is derived from a sayings gospel that “must have been a version of Q”40 is hardly convincing. The GTh is of an entirely different character than the sayings clusters and structured speeches ascribed to Q. The GTh is even unique among ancient sayings collections in that it presents most of the sayings and parables as separate entities, introduced with “Jesus says” (or “Jesus said”). Moreover, as can be inferred from a comparison with the Synoptic Gospels and also with P.Oxy. 655,41 the GTh was compiled from individual traditions taken over from different writings, and probably also from oral tradition. The GTh is therefore a composition which organizes Jesus traditions from various sources as teaching of the “living Jesus” in the form of ethical instruction to Jesus’ followers, called “the solitary ones” and “the elect”. The closest analogies to the GTh concerning its genre are writings such as the Sentences of Sextus, the Teachings of Silvanus, Epicurus’ Kyriai Doxai or the Jewish collection Pirke Aboth (“Sayings of the Fathers”).42 Q is an entirely different case. As far as it can be recognized from Matthew and Luke, the Q traditions were, at least in part, connected to each other to form a, perhaps rudimentary, Jesus story which was subsequently integrated in the more developed narratives of Matthew and Luke. The Q traditions may therefore be regarded as pre-Synoptic traditions, similar to the supposed pre-Markan

38 39

40 41

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part of the overall narratives of the Gospels. Such a vague and reticent interpretation of the common non-Markan traditions may be unsatisfactory at a first glance. It may, however, explain why the Q texts became part of Matthew and Luke and were not transmitted separately. Moreover, such a version of the Q hypothesis can avoid several of the problems which a “strong” hypothesis inevitably evokes. See above n. 12. This idea can be traced back to James M. Robinson and Helmut Koester who identified “trajectories” in early Christianity of which one would have been oriented towards the collection and transmission of sayings of Jesus. According to Robinson and Koester, Q and the GTh belonged to this strand of Christian origins. See Robinson, Logoi Sophon; Koester, Gnomai Diaphoroi; Id., One Jesus. This claim has often been repeated, although on closer inspection it isn’t very convincing. Robinson et al., Critical Edition, lxi. For more recent descriptions of the manuscripts of the GTh see Witetschek, Thomas und Johannes, 16–26; Gathercole, Thomas, 3–34. It should be acknowledged however, that the differences between P.Oxy. 655 and the Coptic manuscript from Nag Hammadi are considerably larger compared to the two other papyri. A more adequate way would therefore be to study the GTh in the context of ancient GrecoRoman, Jewish and Christian sayings collections, similar to the study on the Sentences of Sextus undertaken by Wilfried Eisele and others. See Eisele, Sextussprüche.

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collections and other traditions accessible through canonical and noncanonical gospels. They should be interpreted as part of the early Jesus traditions, which circulated together with traditions which are preserved in the Gospel of Mark, the Matthean and Lukan Sondergut and in noncanonical gospels. The farreaching conclusions about a distinct strand of tradition, represented by a certain group of Jesus followers – a “Q group” – by contrast, seems somewhat exaggerated and speculative. This leads to another aspect. The Synoptic problem and thus also the place of Q should be discussed within a paradigm that includes also noncanonical Gospels and related texts in the early Jesus tradition. During the formation of the 2DH in the 19th century these texts were to a large extent not known or at least not considered in a model of the origin and development of the early Jesus tradition. From a current perspective, however, a large amount of noncanonical texts is published and translated, and these texts are acknowledged as important witnesses for the early Jesus tradition43 and also should be integrated into a model of the development of the early Jesus tradition. Of special importance are the Egerton Gospel, the so-called Jewish-Christian Gospels (the Gospel of the Hebrews, the Gospel of the Nazarenes and the Gospel of the Ebionites), the Gospel of Thomas, the Didache as well as the fragmentary texts on P.Oxy. 5072, Papyrus Merton II 51, P.Oxy. 1224 or P.Oxy. 655.44 The Jesus traditions preserved in these manuscripts are related to the Synoptic Gospels in content, perhaps also in genre, because they may have belonged to narrative presentations of Jesus’ activity. Moreover, the relationship of at least some of these texts to the Synoptic Gospels is certainly not to be explained within a rather simplistic model of literary dependence. Instead, these texts should be regarded as creative interpretations of Jesus’ activity and teaching, even if occasionally episodes or sayings may have been influenced by or taken over from the Synoptic Gospels. The consideration of these texts as part of the early Jesus traditions therefore shows that these traditions were used in a wide variety of literary contexts which also point to different social contexts of the early Jesus movement. The Synoptic problem should therefore be reformulated as the quest of the history of the early Jesus tradition of which the Q texts were one strand among many others.

43

44

See Keith et al., Reception. The aim of this collection is to present the literary, liturgical and visual receptions of Jesus in the first three centuries beyond the divide of canonical and noncanonical witnesses. See the overview by Nicklas, Traditions; Id., Fragmente.

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The Problem of a Verbal Reconstruction of Q

In recent decades a lot of energy has been invested in reconstructing a text of Q. Probably the most influential outcome of this approach is “The Critical edition of Q”, published in 2000 as the result of the perennial work of the International Q Project spearheaded by James M. Robinson, Paul Hoffmann and John S. Kloppenborg.45 The publication was followed by several sequels in different languages. The text of the IQP is often presupposed in publications about Q, sometimes with minor amendments. This is not without problems since it provides the impression that a Q text could indeed be reconstructed and simply presupposed in other publications, whereas the methodological problems involved in such an endeavor are by no means solved by the publication of a “Critical Edition”. At the outset, it should be emphasized that the expression “critical edition” is used here in a different sense than in text editions based on different manuscripts or in the edition of one manuscript, critically examined and emendated. The “Critical Edition of Q”, by contrast, is by necessity based on the critical assessment not of a text, but of scholarly opinions which are published and evaluated in the “Documenta Q” series.46 The introduction to the “Critical Edition”, however, compares the reconstructed Q text to “a tattered papyrus with the surviving letters enmeshed within a lacunae-ridden web of fibre-like sigla”.47 Formulations like this run the risk of blurring the differences between manuscript evidence and scholarly hypotheses and thus weaken the status of the Q hypothesis. Although the aim of the IQP was “to reconstruct the actual wording of Q”48 so that “the text of Q need no longer be just an imaginary black box lurking somewhere behind certain Matthean and Lukan verses as their source, but can emerge as a text in its own right”,49 at the end of the introduction the editors concede that “[i]t is not to be assumed that the present critical text is a last word”. In the introductions to the “Documenta Q” volumes it is stated that “[w]hen one Evangelist can be seen to have altered the text of Q, this does not imply necessarily that the other Evangelist has preserved the Q reading. Both may in fact have altered Q (just as at times both altered Mark)”. However, in the reconstruction and presentation of the Q text this theoretical insight is not – and cannot be – considered, since a text that is neither preserved by a manuscript nor quoted as a source, but incorporated in different ways into two later manuscripts cannot be recovered. 45 46 47 48 49

See note 5 above. The series is published continuously by Peeters, Leuven, since 1996. Robinson et al., Critical Edition, lxviii. Ibid., lxix. Ibid., xv.

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In a more recent publication, the endeavor to reconstruct the text of Q has been justified by the remark that without a clear textual basis of Q “any further investigation inevitably will be unclear and ambiguous”.50 This is a rather surprising explanation, since the desire or the supposed need to reach a Q text can of course not serve as the methodological basis for its reconstruction, nor can it replace a sober discussion about the possibilities and limits of a reconstruction of a text of Q. An appropriate starting point is the observation that comparisons of Mark and Matthew or Mark and Luke are limited, since we do not have direct access to the early texts of these gospels – let alone to the original versions –, but only to different manuscripts, mainly from the fourth century onwards.51 Consequently, any judgement about a Matthean or Lucan adaptation or revision of Mark relies on reconstructed texts from different manuscripts. A Synoptic comparison is therefore always based on text-critical decisions about manuscripts which in the case of the Synoptic texts are likely to have influenced each other in the course of their transmission. Sometimes it is even difficult to decide whether the Markan text was influenced by Matthew or Luke or the other way around, since in the fourth or fifth century (and later) manuscripts, the New Testament Gospels were often copied together so that the influence may have gone in either direction. To take an example: In the three Passion predictions of the Synoptic Gospels, the phrases μετὰ τρεῖς ἡμέρας and τῇ τρίτῃ ἡμέρᾳ occur in the manuscripts of Mark and Matthew. Apparently, the two phrases have influenced each other so that the writers chose one of the terms, but not consistently. On the basis of the manuscripts and in light of a Synoptic comparison, the most likely solution is that the oldest Markan text of all three Passion predictions (Mark 8:31; 9:31; 10:34) was μετὰ τρεῖς ἡμέρας, Matthew in all three cases (16:21; 17:23; 20:19) and Luke in the first place (9:22) had τῇ τρίτῃ ἡμέρᾳ, whereas Luke in the third prediction (18:33) used τῇ ἡμέρᾳ τῇ τρίτῃ which occurs here without a textual variant.52 On the basis of the manuscripts of Matthew and Luke, i.e. without the Markan text, however, it would almost be impossible to decide about a common Vorlage of Matthew and Luke. Even on the basis of the available manuscripts it cannot be decided whether Matthew and Luke had the same wording of Mark at their disposal and changed it independently of each other, whether they knew a Markan text with the variant τῇ τρίτῃ ἡμέρᾳ or whether they used different Markan texts and only one of them changed them to another wording.

50 51

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Heil et al., Introduction, in: Rock or on Sand, 12. See the more recent overviews on the textual transmission of the New Testament texts in: Hill and Kruger, Early Text (Mark: P. M. Head, 108–120; Matthew: T. Wassermann, 83– 107; Luke: J. Hernández Jr., 121–139). The second prediction of Luke (9:44) is an abbreviated sentence: ὁ γὰρ υἱὸς τοῦ ἀνθρώπου μέλλει παραδίδοσθαι εἰς χεῖρας ἀνθρώπων.

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This small example demonstrates that a comparison of the Synoptic texts is dependent on text critical decisions about the available manuscripts. Moreover, this example shows that it would not be possible to reconstruct a Markan text on the basis of Matthew and Luke. Against the background of the correspondence of Matthew and Luke in the expression τῇ τρίτῃ ἡμέρᾳ in most manuscripts, one would probably decide that this was also the text of Mark. With regard to Q, where no manuscript exists, it would not be recognizable whether one or both evangelists changed an underlying Q text, and one would probably reconstruct a Q text that never existed. Consequently, a text of Q, which is necessarily reconstructed from Matthew and Luke, tends to resemble the wording and style of these gospels, whereas it would be impossible to discover a distinct grammatical and linguistic character of a text behind these gospels. Although some of the sayings and structured speeches of Q show a high degree of verbal agreement (up to 80 percent), in these cases there are also differences in the wording between Matthew and Luke. In other texts the degree of verbal correspondence is significantly lower, up to 10 percent.53 In these cases, it is almost impossible to reconstruct a Q text common to Matthew and Luke. Thereby it is rather irrelevant whether the Q material may partly be derived from oral tradition or whether it was scribal practice to reproduce also written texts with variations and amendments.54 However, for the character of the Q hypothesis it is crucial whether a common text behind Matthew and Luke can be reconstructed with a certain degree of probability. Matthew and Luke have redacted and also integrated those texts into their narratives which share a common structure and a high degree of verbatim agreement. As an example I take the exhortation to fearless confession in Matt 10:26–33 and Luke 12:2–9.55 This composition was integrated into the narratives of Matthew and Luke in different ways. Whereas Matthew has added it to the mission speech, in Luke it is part of Jesus’ teaching on the way to Jerusalem. Moreover, in Luke it is introduced separately with a warning against the “leaven” of the Pharisees (Luke 12:1). An original context in Q can therefore not be determined. The speech itself consists of several differences in the actual wording, although some basic terms and contents are clearly recognizable, as e.g. the opposition of hidden and revealed as well as that of darkness and light with regard to private and public speaking; the encouragement not to fear those who can only kill the body; the opposition of acknowledging and denying the Son of Man. Instead of having the discussion whether the “I” in Mt 10:32 or the “Son of Man” in Lk 12:8 is the original Q text,56 it is more productive to interpret the 53 54

55 56

See Kloppenborg Verbin, Excavating, 60–72, with the table at p. 63. See J. S. Kloppenborg, Variation. The claim for an “oral Q” was made among others by Dunn, Oral Gospel Tradition. See my analysis in: Schröter, Erinnerung, 348–369. This question was much discussed in Q scholarship. See e.g. Hoffmann, Menschensohn.

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content of the speech as part of the early Jesus tradition accessible to Matthew and Luke. The text reflects the hostility and persecution which the Jesus followers have to face; it encourages them to fearless proclamation; it interprets their situation in light of God’s care for those who trust in him; and, last but not least, it relates their confession to the Son of Man to their salvation in the last judgement. On the basis of these characteristics, the speech can be interpreted as part of the situation of the Jesus followers and their mission to Israel. The Q texts should be interpreted – and actually have been interpreted – in such a way, without drawing far-reaching assumptions about a distinct “Q group” in separation from other Jesus followers. Such an assumption is already problematic regarding the fallacy to draw conclusions from a text to a certain group or community behind this text. Moreover, in recent research it has been pointed out that an interpretation of the Q texts must not – and in fact cannot – rely on a reconstructed text since such a text is to a large extent inaccessible.57 It is, however, possible to interpret the Q texts with regard to their narrative world, their view of Jesus and their ethos.58 The Q texts project a narrative world by referring to Galilean villages, followers and opponents of Jesus as well as a time span, reaching from John the Baptist to the coming Son of Man.59 Dieter Roth has noted that such an approach would imply a new perspective on Q since it would lead to a new idea of textual reconstruction.60 Regarded from such a perspective, the Q texts contribute to the history of the early Jesus followers behind the Synoptic Gospels and illuminate their situation as messengers of God’s dawning kingdom.

4.

Q and the Historical Jesus

From the outset it seems clear that the Q hypothesis and the quest of the historical Jesus have to be kept apart as two different areas of research. Whereas the first one is concerned with the relationship of three early gospels to each other, the second one is focused on the historical reconstruction of Jesus’ ministry in its Galilean and Judean context. The methodological presuppositions as well as the sources for both quests are therefore different. Despite this obvious fact, the origin of the Q hypothesis was closely linked to the quest of the historical Jesus from its very beginning. Christian Hermann Weisse and Heinrich Julius Holtzmann tried to develop a secure basis for a reconstruction of the life of Jesus against David Friedrich Strauss’ claim that the historical data about Jesus 57 58 59 60

See Roth, Parabeln; Id., Parables. See Zimmermann, Metaphorology. See Kloppenborg, City and Wasteland; Schröter, Markus. Roth, Parabeln, 209.

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would vanish in the mist of the myths used by the Gospel writers in their Jesus accounts. Mark and Q have therefore been regarded as the earliest sources for the reconstruction of the ministry and teaching of Jesus.61 Whereas in the 19th century often Mark was the primary source for the historical Jesus, in the 20th century especially Adolf Harnack and James Robinson regarded Q as the source that would provide access to the teaching of Jesus. Both regarded Q as more primitive and reliable than Mark and therefore as closer to the teaching of Jesus.62 In a certain sense, for Harnack and Robinson Q is therefore the “Urevangelium” which for Lessing was the Gospel of the Nazarenes (or Gospel of the Hebrews),63 with the difference that unlike Lessing they claim to have a text of this source. A proposed solution of the Synoptic Problem is thus often related to a portrait of the historical Jesus. It should be kept in mind, however, that the interpretation of a text cannot be regarded as a direct testimony of a historical person or event. Even if it would be possible to reconstruct a sayings collection behind Matthew and Luke, that wouldn’t provide access to the historical Jesus. The Synoptic problem is thus in the first place a literary problem, not a historical one.64 The Q texts, regardless of their precise wording and the exact scope of Q, certainly contribute to the quest of the historical Jesus in a similar way as do other early texts about Jesus. They provide an image of Jesus proclaiming God’s reign brought about by Jesus’ activity and teaching which will be completed by God in the imminent future; they depict Jesus as calling followers and integrating them in his own mission; they formulate ethical instructions for Jesus’ followers; they describe a strong tension between Jesus and his followers on the one hand and other Jews on the other, who as a consequence of their rejection of Jesus’ message are threatened with condemnation at the last judgement. However, these features cannot directly be traced back to the historical Jesus. Instead they have to be integrated into a portrait of Jesus that is based on an analysis of the early Jesus tradition, canonical and noncanonical, and interpreted against the historical situation of Judaism in the Second Temple period, especially of the Galilee in the first half of the first century CE. Without such a historical framework based on literary and archaeological data, it would be impossible to interpret the Q texts as evidence for the historical Jesus. Moreover, the portrait of Jesus provided by the Q texts has to be balanced by Markan texts, Sondergut texts of Matthew and Luke, and supplemented at least by some sayings from the Gospel of Thomas and some information from the Gospel of John. Despite the strong interest in Q as an early source for the sayings, it must

61 62 63 64

See Lührmann, Logienquelle. Harnack, Sprüche und Reden, 172–173; Robinson, Gospel; Id., Critical Edition. See Watson, Gospel Writing, 117. See Kloppenborg, Discursive Practices, 375–381; Arnal, Synoptic Problem.

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therefore be underscored that the quest of the historical Jesus must be differentiated from an interpretation of the Q texts.

5.

Conclusion

By way of conclusion I want to summarize the results of my paper as follows: The qualifications concerning Q as a document with a recognizable text and a distinct literary genre and content suggest a more flexible or “soft” form of the Q hypothesis. While the strong literary agreements of some of the non-Markan texts of Matthew and Luke, together with their common characteristics in content and theology – e.g. the Son of Man Christology, the uncompromising call to follow Jesus, the sharp conflict with Israel which is accused for rejecting Jesus and his followers, or the instructions for the mission to Israel and the encouragement to confession without fear65 –, can be ascribed to a common written document with a high degree of probability, this observation cannot be applied to other Q texts, because the definition “non-Markan texts common to Matthew and Luke” is not a sufficient methodological basis for such a procedure. Within the Synoptic tradition, or more broadly speaking within the early Jesus tradition, the Q traditions therefore have a similar status as the assumed preMarkan traditions or other pre-Synoptic traditions. These pre-Synoptic traditions are not themselves preserved in manuscripts. They can therefore only be reconstructed hypothetically, and also their use by early Jesus followers remains to a certain degree speculative. A serious consideration of these arguments for a more moderate version of the Q hypothesis would strengthen it in the discussion about the Synoptic problem and the early Jesus tradition. Such an approach would also avoid far-reaching conclusions about the content and literary character of Q, as well as of a distinct “Q group”, which are difficult to prove. At the end of this paper I want to raise the question of why, despite obvious objections against the Q hypothesis and the developments which have placed the Q hypothesis and the quest of the historical Jesus into a much broader framework, some scholars still defend a “strong” version of the Q hypothesis, by treating the common non-Markan traditions of Matthew and Luke as if they relied on a manuscript and not as a scholarly hypothesis. I see three main reasons for this situation. First, there is an apparent plausibility of the 2DH. If Markan priority is accepted as an explanation of the relationship of the Synoptic Gospels, it is an obvious consequence to look for an explanation of the common non-Markan texts of Matthew and Luke. This enterprise, however, has often led to 65

An excellent survey of the characteristics of the Q texts is provided by Tuckett, Q.

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conclusions which go far beyond the available evidence. It has been suggested that Q would have undergone a development in several stages, that it would be possible to reconstruct a certain group within early Christianity and that “Q” could be treated in the same way as the Synoptic Gospels which are attested by manuscript evidence. This “considerable industry” of Q studies66 has resulted in a bifurcation of Q advocates and sceptics who are not convinced at least by the far-reaching conclusions about Q. The introduction to the “Critical Edition of Q” supports this impression. It provides the idea of a continuous development in Q research which is now brought to completion by the “Critical edition”. A critic like Michael Goulder, by contrast, is dismissed with the remark: “The IQP has indeed refrained from entering into the never-ending discussion over the existence of Q, and has preferred to concentrate its energy … on seeking to reconstruct the text of Q, on the assumption that this may in the end be a more compelling and useful argument for its existence”.67 It may be questioned whether this is an appropriate answer to objections against the Q hypothesis raised by Michael Goulder and others. In any case, instead of developing the Q hypothesis in the direction of a reconstructed text with its own theology, represented by a group of Jesus followers, it would be more promising to take the status of the Q hypothesis and its ambiguities seriously. A second reason for the interest in a strong version of the Q hypothesis is its assumed closeness to the historical Jesus. As was shown above, the relationship between Q and the historical Jesus has always been present in Q research, even if several scholars have explicitly emphasized the difference between both approaches. However, the impression, sometimes based rather on intuition than on sound historical research, that Q as a primitive sayings collection could lead back to Jesus himself, has been a stimulus in Q research up to more recent times. It would be more convincing, however, to integrate the Q hypothesis into the wider framework of historical Jesus research and to treat it as a scholarly hypothesis about the provenance and original setting of certain early Jesus traditions. A third reason for the strong adherence to the Q hypothesis is the interest of providing an alternative to the “orthodox”, “canonical” view of the history of early Christianity and the historical Jesus. This tendency can be observed in North America, especially the Jesus seminar, and among some German Catholic scholars. In the North American context, the influential publication “Trajectories through Early Christianity”68 relies on the model of Walter Bauer who had questioned the view of an original “orthodoxy” which was defended against an uprising heterodoxy.69 Instead, Robinson and Koester argued for an 66 67 68 69

Goulder, Juggernaut, 667. Robinson et al., Critical Edition, lxxvii, n. 156. See n. 39 above. Bauer, Rechtgläubigkeit. English translation: Bauer, Orthodoxy.

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original multiplicity of early Christianity, represented by canonical as well as noncanonical texts. An important aspect of this model is the idea of “trajectories” based on early collections of sayings, dialogues, miracles, as well as on the Pauline “kerygma”, leading to the canonical gospels. In a somewhat surprising twist, certainly not intended or supported by Helmut Koester, this model was related to the quest of the historical Jesus. The unwarranted claim that a collection of wisdom sayings (also called LOGOI SOPHON by James Robinson) would represent the most original genre of the Jesus tradition resulted in the idea that the oldest layer of Jesus could be reconstructed from Q and the GTh. Thus, the idea to get closer to the truth about the historical Jesus was linked to the idea, going back as far as to the 18th century, that noncanonical, “apocryphal” writings would reveal information about earliest developments in the history of Christianity, censored or suppressed by the church and mainstream Christianity.70 Among German Catholic scholars it was and sometimes still is an attractive idea that historical-critical research would develop a model of the origin of Christianity not based on the canonical writings and the doctrine of the church. Therefore, catholic colleagues have sometimes strongly underscored the peculiarity of Q and its difference from the Synoptic gospels. In a certain sense, the emphasis of Catholic scholars on an image of Jesus and the early Jesus tradition based on Q to a certain degree resembles the Jesus seminar and its interest in Q and non-canonical writings, especially the GTh, over and against the Bible oriented fundamentalism in some North American circles. These observations demonstrate that approaches to Q and the early Jesus tradition are constrained by our own presuppositions, interests and limited knowledge – my own, of course, included. This does, however, not prevent us from thinking about the methodological presuppositions of current Q research. Such a reflection may help to develop a viable form of the Q hypothesis which considers the status of this scholarly theory and considers the possibilities and limits of its contribution to a history of the early Jesus tradition. Such an approach also includes a reflection about the epistemological presuppositions of historical-critical research themselves.

Bibliography Arnal, W. E., The Synoptic Problem and the Historical Jesus, in P. Foster et al. (ed.), New Studies in the Synoptic Problem (BETL 239), Leuven 2011, 371–432. Bauer, W., Rechtgläubigkeit und Ketzerei im ältesten Christentum (BHTh 10), Tübingen 1934 (2nd, enlarged edition, ed. by G. Strecker, 1964).

70

See e.g. Robinson, Easter.

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Bauer, W., Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity, ed. and supplemented by R. A. Kraft/G. Krodel, Philadelphia 1971. Baum, A., Der mündliche Faktor: Teilanalogien zu den Minor Agreements aus der Oral PoetryForschung und der experimentellen Gedächtnispsychologie, in: Biblica 85 (2004), 264–272. Bazzana, G. B., Village Scribes behind Q: The Social and Political Profile if the Sayings Gospel in Light of Documentary Papyri, in: C. Heil/G. Harb/D. A. Smith (ed.), Built on Rock or Sand? Q Studies: Retrospects, Introspects and Prospects (BTS 34), Leuven 2018, 99–120. Dunn, J. D. G., The Oral Gospel Tradition, Grand Rapids, Mich./Cambridge, U.K. 2013. Eisele, W., Die Sextussprüche und ihre Verwandten (SAPERE 26), Tübingen 2015. Fleddermann, H. T., Mark and Q. A Study of the Overlap Texts. With an Assessment by F. Neirynck, Leuven 1995. Fleddermann, H. T., Q: A Reconstruction and Commentary (BTS 1), Leuven/Paris/Dudley, Mass. 2005. Fleddermann, H. T., The Lost Coin, in: C. Heil/G. Harb/D. A. Smith (ed.), Built on Rock or Sand? Q Studies: Retrospects, Introspects and Prospects (BTS 34), Leuven 2018, 289–322. Frenschkowski, M., Matthäus als Gewährsmann der Logienquelle. Neues zu einer alten Theorie, in: C. Heil/G. Harb/D. A. Smith (ed.), Built on Rock or Sand? Q Studies: Retrospects, Introspects and Prospects (BTS 34), Leuven 2018, 409–439. Fuchs, A., Spuren von Deuteromarkus, I–IV, Münster 2004. Gathercole, S., The Gospel of Thomas. Introduction and Commentary (TENTS 2), Leiden/Boston 2014. Goodacre, M., The Case against Q: Studies in Markan Priority and the Synoptic Problem, Harrisburg, Pa. 2002. Goodacre, M., Goulder and the Gospels: An Examination of a New Paradigm (JSNTSup 133), Sheffield 1996. Goulder, M., Is Q a Juggernaut?, in: JBL 115 (1996), 667–681. Harnack, A. von, Sprüche und Reden Jesu. Die zweite Quelle des Matthäus und Lukas, Leipzig 1907. Heil, C., Harb, G., Smith, D. A. (ed.), Built on Rock or Sand? Q Studies: Retrospects, Introspects and Prospects (BTS 34), Leuven 2018. Hill, C. E., Kruger, M. J. (ed.), The Early Text of the New Testament, Oxford 2012. Hoffmann, P., Jesus versus Menschensohn. Matthäus 10,32f und die synoptische MenschensohnÜberlieferung, in: P. Hoffmann (ed.), Tradition und Situation. Studien zur Jesusüberlieferung in der Logienquelle und den synoptischen Evangelien (NTA NF 28), Münster 1995. Hoffmann, P., Heil, C. (ed.), Die Spruchquelle Q. Studienausgabe Griechisch und Deutsch, Darmstadt 2002. Holtzmann, H. J., Die synoptischen Evangelien. Ihr Ursprung und geschichtlicher Charakter, Leipzig 1863. Keith, C. et al. (ed.), The Reception of Jesus in the First Three Centuries. 3 Vols., London 2020. Kloppenborg, J. S., The Formation of Q. Trajectories in Ancient Wisdom Collections (Studies in Antiquity and Christianity), Philadelphia 1987. Kloppenborg Verbin, J. S., Excavating Q. The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel, Minneapolis 2000. Kloppenborg, J. S., The Tenants in the Vineyard. Ideology, Economics, and Agrarian Conflict in Jewish Palestine (WUNT 195), Tübingen 2006. Kloppenborg, J. S., The Theological Stakes in the Synoptic Problem, in: J.S. Kloppenburg, Synoptic Problems. Collected Essays (WUNT 329), Tübingen 2014, 11–38. Kloppenborg, J. S., Is there a New Paradigm?, in: J. S. Kloppenburg, Synoptic Problems. Collected Essays (WUNT 329), Tübingen 2014, 39–61. Kloppenborg, J. S., On Dispensing with Q? Goodacre on the Relation of Luke to Matthew, in: J. S. Kloppenburg, Synoptic Problems. Collected Essays (WUNT 329), Tübingen 2014, 62–90. Kloppenborg, J. S., Variation in the Reproduction of the Double Tradition and an Oral Q?, in: J. S. Kloppenburg, Synoptic Problems. Collected Essays (WUNT 329), Tübingen 2014, 91–119. Kloppenborg, J. S., City and Wasteland: Narrative World and the Beginning of the Sayings Gospel (Q), in: J. S. Kloppenburg, Synoptic Problems. Collected Essays (WUNT 329), Tübingen 2014, 222–236. Kloppenborg, J. S., Literary Convention, Self-Evidence and the Social History of the Q People, in: J. S. Kloppenburg, Synoptic Problems. Collected Essays (WUNT 329), Tübingen 2014, 237–265.

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Kloppenborg, J. S., The Sayings Gospel: Literary and Stratigraphic Problems, in: J. S. Kloppenburg, Synoptic Problems. Collected Essays (WUNT 329), Tübingen 2014, 266–321. Kloppenborg, J. S., Discursive Practices in the Sayings Gospel Q and the Quest for the Historical Jesus, in: J. S. Kloppenburg, Synoptic Problems. Collected Essays (WUNT 329), Tübingen 2014, 366–406. Koester, H., Gnomai Diaphoroi: The Origin and Nature of Diversification in the History of Early Christianity, in: J. M. Robinson/H. Koester (ed.), Trajectories through Early Christianity, Minneapolis 1971, 114–157. Koester, H., One Jesus and Four Primitive Gospels, in: J. M. Robinson/H. Koester (ed.), Trajectories through Early Christianity, Minneapolis 1971, 158–204. Lachmann, K., De ordine narrationum in evangeliis synopticis, in: ThStKr 8 (1835), 570–590. Labahn, M., Der Gekommene als Wiederkommender. Die Logienquelle als erzählte Geschichte (ABIG 32), Leipzig 2010. Labahn, M., Sinn in Sinnlosen. Hermeneutische Überlegungen zu Q, in: C. Heil/G. Harb/D. A. Smith (ed.), Built on Rock or Sand? Q Studies: Retrospects, Introspects and Prospects (BTS 34), Leuven 2018, 131–173. Laufen, R., Die Doppelüberlieferungen der Logienquelle und des Markusevangeliums (BBB 54), Bonn: 1980. Lührmann, D., Die Logienquelle und die Leben-Jesu-Forschung, in: A. Lindemann (ed.), The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus (BETL 158), Leuven 2001, 191–206. Neirynck, F., Q Parallels. Q Synopsis and IQP/CritEd Parallels, Leuven 2001. Nicklas, T., Traditions about Jesus in Apocryphal Texts (with the Exception of the Gospel of Thomas), in: T. Holmén/S. E. Porter (ed.) Handbook for the Study of the Historical Jesus, Volume 3: The Historical Jesus, Leiden/Boston 2011, 2081–2118. Nicklas, T., Fragmente christlicher Apokryphen und die Geschichte des frühen Christentums, in: J. Verheyden/T. Nicklas/E. Hernitschek (ed.), Shadowy Characters and Fragmentary Evidence (WUNT 388), Tübingen 2017, 69–88. Piper, R., Wisdom in the Q tradition The Aphoristic Teaching of Jesus, Cambridge 1989. Robinson, J. M., Logoi Sophon: On the Gattung of Q, in: J. M. Robinson/H. Koester (ed.), Trajectories through Early Christianity, Minneapolis 1971, 71–113. Robinson, J. M., From Easter to Valentinus (or to the Apostles’ Creed), in: JBL 101 (1982), 5–37. Robinson, J. M., The Critical Edition of Q and the Historical Jesus, in: A. Lindemann (ed.), The Sayings Source Q and the Historical Jesus (BETL 158), Leuven 2001, 27–52. Robinson, J. M., The Gospel of Jesus. A Historical Search for the Original Good News, San Francisco 2005. Robinson, J. M., Hoffmann, P., Kloppenborg, J. S. (ed.), The Critical Edition of Q, Minneapolis 2000. Roth, D., Die Parabeln in der Logienquelle; „Alte“ Probleme und „Neue“ Ansätze, in: C. Heil/G. Harb/D. A. Smith (ed.), Built on Rock or Sand? Q Studies: Retrospects, Introspects and Prospects (BTS 34), Leuven 2018, 193–212. Roth, D., The Parables in Q (LNTS 582), London 2018. Schröter, J., Erinnerung an Jesu Worte. Studien zur Rezeption der Logienüberlieferung in Markus, Q und Thomas (WMANT 76), Neukirchen-Vluyn 1997. Schröter, J., Markus, Q und der historische Jesus, Methodische und exegetische Erwägungen zu den Anfängen der Rezeption der Verkündigung Jesu, in: ZNW 89 (1998), 173–200. Schüling, J., Studien zum Verhältnis von Logienquelle und Markusevangelium (FzB 65), Würzburg 1991. Tiwald, M., Die Logienquelle. Text, Kontext, Theologie, Stuttgart 2016. Tuckett, C. M., Q and the History of Early Christianity, Edinburgh 1996. Tuckett, C. M., From the Sayings to the Gospels (WUNT 328), Tübingen 2014. Vassiliadis, P., The Nature and Extent of the Q-Document, in: NovTest 20 (1978), 49–73. Watson, F., Gospel Writing: A Canonical Perspective, Grand Rapids, Mich. 2013. Weisse, C. H., Die Evangelienfrage in ihrem gegenwärtigen Stadium, Leipzig 1856. Witetschek, S., Was erzählen die Logien? Zur narrativen Dimension von Q, in: C. Heil/G. Harb/D. A. Smith (ed.), Built on Rock or Sand? Q Studies: Retrospects, Introspects and Prospects (BTS 34), Leuven 2018, 175–192.

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Witetschek, S., Thomas und Johannes – Johannes und Thomas. Das Verhältnis der Logien des Thomasevangeliums zum Johannesevangelium (HBS 79), Freiburg 2015. Wolter, M., Reconstructing Q?, in: ExpTim 115 (2004), 115–119. Zimmermann, R., Metaphorology and Narratology in Q Exegesis, in: D. Roth/R. Zimmermann/M. Labahn (ed.), Metaphor, Narrative, and Parables in Q (WUNT 315), Tübingen 2014, 3–30.

 

Das Interesse an Markuspriorität, Logienquelle und Zweiquellentheorie im deutschen Protestantismus des 19. Jahrhunderts Lukas Bormann

English Abstract: Lukas Bormann takes a glimpse at the beginnings of the 2DH and reads these against the backdrop of Protestant Germany in the 19th century. He points out that the presupposed ‘objectivity’ of scholarly research on the 2DH served the desire to demonstrate the ‘authenticity’ of the Protestant doctrine. After Karl Lachmann it was no longer sustainable that the Gospels of Matthew and John were written by eyewitnesses. Because of the Markan priority new ways of proving the ‘authenticity’ of Protestant teachings had to be found. When Christian Hermann Weiße (1801–1866), Christian Gottlob Wilke (1788–1854), and Heinrich Julius Holtzmann (1832–1910) developed the 2DH, Adolf von Harnack (1851–1930) took recourse to the Sayings Source, which he deemed to be “more precious” than the Gospel of Mark in maintaining “original” Jesus traditions. Today we know that this is exaggerated, but these developments have helped us to understand the Gospels as historical texts being subjugated to an historical process of transmission.

1.

Die gesellschaftlichen Einflussfaktoren auf die Ausbildung der Zweiquellentheorie

Wenn man nach den historischen, politischen und kulturellen Voraussetzungen geisteswissenschaftlicher Forschung fragt, wird man in der Regel nach den gesellschaftlichen und den fachdisziplinären Wirkungszusammenhängen unterscheiden. Diese beiden Wirkungszusammenhänge versuchte Henning Graf Reventlow, dem wir das mehrbändige Werk „Epochen der Bibelauslegung“ verdanken,1 in der Gegenüberstellung von a) „history of ideas“ und b) „social and political conditions“ zu erfassen.2 Man wird diese von Reventlow getroffene Unterscheidung allerdings etwas modifizieren müssen. Der eher philosophische Begriff „Ideengeschichte“ erfasst die strukturierte und methodisch reflektierte Erarbeitung neuen Wissens in den Fachdisziplinen nicht angemessen. Er wird 1 2

Reventlow, Epochen. Reventlow, Conditions, 273.

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vor allem den teilweise sehr technischen Gesetzmäßigkeiten disziplinärer Forschung (z.B. Forschungsstand, Methoden, Quellen, Datenbasis) nicht gerecht. Auch die Wendung von den „sozialen und politischen Rahmenbedingungen“ bezeichnet nur unpräzise, welchen komplexen Einflussfaktoren geisteswissenschaftliche Forschung ausgesetzt ist. Diese wirken weit subtiler in die Wissenschaft hinein als es der Verweis auf die äußeren Gegebenheiten, die man in der Regel mit dem Begriff „Rahmenbedingungen“ bezeichnet, zum Ausdruck bringt. Deswegen schlage ich folgende nähere Charakterisierung der beiden Einflussfaktoren auf Wissenschaft vor: a) Die innere Logik der fachdisziplinären Entwicklung, die neue Fragestellungen auf zuvor gewonnenen Ergebnissen aufbaut, neue methodische Einsichten auf weitere Gebiete des Faches anwendet und der Regelhaftigkeit des wissenschaftlichen Diskurses folgt, und b) die kulturellen, aber auch gesellschaftlichen und konkret politischen Einflussnahmen und Einwirkungen auf Forschungsaktivitäten, Forschungsergebnisse und deren Rezeption und Inanspruchnahme durch gesellschaftliche Gruppen und Institutionen. Schließlich sind die Wechselwirkungen zwischen diesen beiden Bereichen, disziplinäre Logik und gesellschaftliche Einflussnahmen, zu beachten, die einerseits durch den Grad der Geltung des Prinzips der Wissenschaftsfreiheit, die ergebnisoffene Forschung ermöglicht, und andererseits durch die gesellschaftlichen Erwartungen an die Ergebnisse von Wissenschaft näher bestimmt sind. Vor dem Hintergrund dieser basalen Unterscheidung zwischen disziplinärer Logik und gesellschaftlicher Einflussnahme hat Jean-François Lyotard auf einen weiteren Sachverhalt, der das Verhältnis von Gesellschaft und Wissenschaft bestimmt, aufmerksam gemacht: Die gesellschaftliche Entscheidung, Ressourcen für die Wissenschaft bereitzustellen, beruht auf Erwartungen an die Wissenschaft, die in „Erzählungen von der Legitimierung des Wissens“ (Les récits de la légitimation du savoir) zusammengefasst sind.3 Diese wirkungsmächtigen Narrative haben sich im 19. Jahrhundert, also in unserem Untersuchungszeitraum, ausgebildet, um die Wissenschaft, die vor der französischen Revolution als feudal gewährtes Privileg positioniert war, in die bürgerliche Gesellschaft zu integrieren. Es haben sich im Zuge dieses Prozesses zwei master narratives ausgebildet, die den hohen Einsatz der Gesellschaft für die wissenschaftliche Bildung ihrer Eliten und für die Förderung der Forschung legitimierten: Die philosophischspekulative und die politisch-emanzipative Meistererzählung des Wissens. Während Lyotard den Entstehungsgrund der spekulativen Legitmierungserzählung in der Bildungsidee des deutschen Idealismus sieht und in dieser das Versprechen formuliert findet, dass wissenschaftliches Wissen zur Freiheit des autonomen Subjekts führe, weist er der emanzipativen Legitimierungserzählung das Versprechen zu, dass Wissenschaft zu Fortschritt und mehr gesellschaftlicher 3

Lyotard, Wissen, 96.

… im deutschen Protestantismus des 19. Jahrhunderts

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Gerechtigkeit führe. Mit dieser Theorie des „Versprechens“, das die Gesellschaft der Wissenschaft zugleich zuweist und abverlangt, gelingt es Lyotard der wechselseitigen Beziehung zwischen Wissenschaft und Gesellschaft und den damit verbundenen komplexen Impulsen gerecht zu werden, die zwischen der Unabhängigkeit der Wissenschaft und dem Interesse der Gesellschaft an der Wissenschaft bestehen. Innerhalb dieses Rahmens, der Zusage der Wissenschaft, Freiheit und Gerechtigkeit zu fördern, lassen sich die komplexen und durchaus gegenläufigen spezifischen Entwicklungen an den Universitäten des 19. Jh. ebenso gut erklären wie die Grundtendenz der Entwicklung, nämlich Wissenschaft hoch einzuschätzen und ihr geradezu fundamental-axiomatischen Charakter in nahezu allen Lebensbereichen zukommen zu lassen. Unter diesen Bedingungen verhandelt Wissenschaft in ihrem inneren fachdisziplinären Diskurs immer neu über die Regeln, die in ihr gelten sollen, um „Wissen“ von „Nicht-Wissen“ zu unterscheiden. Die Gesellschaft entscheidet sowohl über die Bereitstellung von Ressourcen für die Wissenschaft als auch darüber, welche Ergebnisse der Wissenschaft rezipiert werden. Die hier zur Debatte stehenden Ergebnisse neutestamentlicher Wissenschaft, nämlich die Markuspriorität, die Existenz einer Logienquelle und die daraus resultierende Zweiquellentheorie zur literarischen Abhängigkeit der synoptischen Evangelien, wurde nur selten unter dem Aspekt ihrer gesellschaftlichen Bedeutung analysiert. Es ist das Verdienst von William Farmer (1921–2000) die genannten Ergebnisse neutestamentlicher Wissenschaft unter diesem Gesichtspunkt betrachtet zu haben. Farmer hatte in den neunziger Jahren des vergangen Jahrhunderts versucht, die gesellschaftlichen Einflussfaktoren auf die Entstehung und Rezeption der Zweiquellentheorie präzise zu bestimmen.4 Er setzte dabei an der plausiblen Überlegung an, dass sich wissenschaftliche Hypothesen in einer Gesellschaft als fundiertes Wissen insbesondere dann durchzusetzen vermögen, wenn sie gesellschaftliche Bedürfnisse befriedigen – in den Worten Lyotards reformuliert: wenn Wissenschaft ihr Versprechen, Freiheit und Gerechtigkeit zu erreichen, einlöst. Farmer unterscheidet deswegen zwischen der einfachen wissenschaftlichen Hypothese, die die Markuspriorität noch 1870 dargestellt habe, und einer Entwicklung, durch die diese These zu einem gesellschaftlich legitimierten Wissensbestand, den Farmer als „German Protestant Dogma“ bezeichnete, weiterentwickelt habe.5 Diese Entwicklung von der Hypothese zum deutsch-protestantischen Dogma habe ihre Wurzel im Kulturkampf Preußens gegen die katholische Kirche und lasse sich exakt auf den Juni 1871 datieren, dem Zeitpunkt, zu dem sich Bismarck zu einem energischen Vorgehen gegen die katholische Kirche

4 5

Farmer, State, 15–49. Farmer, State, 32.

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entschlossen habe.6 Der Kulturkampf sei gegen die Geltung des kanonischen Rechts der katholischen Kirche geführt worden, um die protestantische Dominanz in allen gesellschaftlichen Bereichen durchzusetzen. Da man das Matthäusevangelium als Basis des kanonischen Rechts, insbesondere wegen Mt 16,18f., dem Schriftbeleg für die Schlüsselgewalt des Papstes, identifiziert habe, musste es gegenüber dem Markusevangelium abgewertet werden. Um dieses Ziel zu erreichen, habe Bismarck einen der wichtigsten Vertreter der Zweiquellentheorie Heinrich Julius Holtzmann (1832–1910) während des Kulturkampfs nach Straßburg berufen. Holtzmann sollte der Markuspriorität im preußisch-antikatholischen Interesse zur Durchsetzung verhelfen. Farmer machte zudem die Markuspriorität auch für den geringen Widerstand gegen den Nationalsozialismus verantwortlich und deutete an, dass sie in der Gestalt des Dogmas auch den Holocaust ermöglicht habe.7 Diese These Farmers ist von Henning Graf Reventlow widerlegt worden. Die Berliner und Straßburger Berufungsakten belegen, dass Holtzmanns Position zur Zweiquellentheorie bzw. zur Markuspriorität für die Berufung keine Rolle gespielt habe, vielmehr habe man sich ausführlich mit Holtzmanns uniertem Bekenntnis und dessen Haltung zu dem im Elsaß dominierenden Luthertum befasst: „In any case the Markan Hypothesis played no role whatever in Holtzmann’s appointment so far as the government was concerned.“8 Reventlow hat demnach gezeigt, dass Farmers These von der politischen und antikatholischen Instrumentalisierung der Markuspriorität bzw. der Zweiquellenhypothese nicht nur in diesem wichtigen Detail, sondern insgesamt unfundiert ist. Sie macht zudem auf eine fragwürdige Weise die besonderen Untiefen der deutschen Geschichte für die Durchsetzung der Zweiquellentheorie verantwortlich.9 Während Farmer das protestantische Interesse an der Markuspriorität bzw. der Zweiquellenhypothese unmittelbar als antikatholische politische Instumentalisierung erklärte, betonte Werner Georg Kümmel, dass es sich um eine rein fachdisziplinäre Entscheidung handele, die als notwendige Folge der „konsequent geschichtlichen Betrachtung des Neuen Testaments“ ausreichend erklärt sei.10 Die Zweiquellentheorie sei demnach das Ergebnis der konsequenten Anwendung der fachdisziplinären Logik der neutestamentlichen Wissenschaft. Kümmel unterließ es aber, danach zu fragen, inwieweit mit ihr auch 6 7

8 9

10

Farmer, State, 37. Farmer, State, 16: „helped pave the way for anti-Semitic German Christianity in the Third Reich“. Reventlow, Conditions, 290. Farmer hat diese These zwischen 1988 und 1995 mehrfach vorgetragen und publiziert, z.B. in BETL 100, 2477–2498. Kümmel, Neues Testament, 145–258: „Viertes Kapitel: Die konsequent geschichtliche Betrachtung des Neuen Testaments“. Engl. ders., New Testament, 120–205: „The Consistently Historical Approach to the New Testament“.

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gesellschaftliche Erwartungen an die neutestamentliche und theologische Wissenschaft erfüllt wurden. Die Zweiquellentheorie bildete sich jedoch in einem Erwartungshorizont aus, der weder, wie Farmer meinte, vom Kulturkampf, noch alleine von der disziplinären Logik, wie Kümmel herausstellte, sondern auch von bestimmten protestantischen Grundannahmen bestimmt war. Dieser Erwartungshorizont lässt sich recht gut im Stil und Duktus der Leipziger Rektoratsrede fassen, die der Alttestamentler Rudolf Kittel (1853–1929) im Jahr 1917 gehalten hat. Kittel verband in dieser Rede Theologie und Philosophie, Aufklärung und Reformation, indem er etwa behauptete, Kants Kritiken seien eine „Luthertat“ gewesen.11 Luther und Kant hätten die Grundlage dafür gelegt, dass der „Individualismus (…) zum Wesen des Protestantismus“ gehöre und dass „das religiöse Erlebnis, die persönliche Erfahrung des im Glauben gewonnenen Gottes, (…) die letzte Grundlage“ bilde.12 Für Kittel und seine Zuhörerschaft an der Leipziger Universität des Jahres 1917 war damit auch ausgesprochen, dass es keinen Gegensatz zwischen freier wissenschaftlicher Erkenntnis und der protestantischen religiösen Erfahrung geben könne. Diese Ansicht konnte damals scheinbar nicht ohne kontroverskonfessionelle Bemerkungen zum Ausdruck gebracht werden. So wurden in den Leipziger Rektoratsreden des Jahres 1917 sowohl die vermeintlich „heuchlerische Überschätzung der äußeren Korrektheit“ im Calvinismus wie der klerikale Institutionalismus der katholischen Kirche, ohne den der Katholizismus angeblich „Luft“ wäre, gerügt.13 Derartige Seitenhiebe gehörten zu einer Abgrenzungsrhetorik, die der lutherischen Selbstvergewisserung dienten, und sollten nicht überbewertet werden. Wie lässt sich die Entwicklung und Durchsetzung der Zweiquellentheorie in diesen Kontext einordnen? Die Zweiquellentheorie war zwar nie unbestritten geblieben, sie galt aber doch mehrheitlich als die „sichere Quellengrundlage“ für die Jesus- und die Evangelienforschung des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts.14 Als eine solche „sichere Grundlage“ erfüllte sie die Erwartung der protestantisch bürgerlichen Gesellschaft an die Wissenschaft, den ihr eigenen Habitus der Überlegenheit zu legitimieren. Erleben und Erfahrung des protestantischen Individuums beruhten auf einer inneren Überzeugung, die zugleich wissenschaftlich gesichert war. Vor diesem Hintergrund wird man die These vertreten können, dass die Zweiquellentheorie im deutschen Protestantismus auch deswegen so breit rezipiert wurde, weil sie dazu beitrug, das Versprechen einer spekulativen Legitimierungserzählung zu erfüllen, nach der die protestantische Religion auf einer unbestreitbaren wissenschaftlichen Grundlage stehe, die es 11 12 13 14

Kittel, Luther, 37. Kittel, Luther, 41. Stieda, Rede, 21–31, hier 31; Kittel, Luther, 41. Kümmel, Neues Testament, 186.

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dem bürgerlichen Individuum erlaube, dieser Religion in Übereinstimmung mit Bildung und Wissenschaft aus freier Überzeugung zuzustimmen. Diese Legitimierungserzählung erfüllte eine gesellschaftliche Funktion, indem sie dem einzelnen individuelle geistige Freiheit und Autonomie versprach. Es bestand aber auch an die Ev. Theologie die Erwartung, dass sie Freiheit, Individualität und Autonomie als dem Protestantismus inhärent nachzuweisen verstünde. Schließlich sollen auch die rechtlichen Bedingungen, unter denen sich die Forschung zur Zweiquellentheorie entwickelte, kurz skizziert werden: 1. Die Theologischen Fakultäten unterstanden seit der Reformation bis 1918 in besonderer Weise dem jeweiligen Landesherrn, der als triplex persona, Staatsoberhaupt, Summus Episcopus der Landeskirche und Magnus Cancellarius der Universität die Personal- und Rechtsverhältnisse der Universität letztlich allein regeln konnte.15 In der Wende vom 17. zum 18. Jahrhundert verloren die Theologischen Fakultäten ihre kontrollierende Vorrangstellung gegenüber den anderen Fakultäten. Durch die Durchsetzung der Forschungs- und Lehrfreiheit für Professoren an den Universitäten war es nicht mehr möglich, dass Professoren anderer Fakultäten durch den von der Theologischen Fakultät ausgesprochenen „Bekenntnisbann in wissenschaftlichen Lehrfragen“ von der Universität entfernt wurden.16 Insbesondere die Durchsetzung der historisch-kritischen Methode in den Geisteswissenschaften und in der Theologie führte immer wieder zu Kontroversen um die Frage, ob die Lehrinhalte bekenntniswidrige „Irrlehren“ enthielten. Das gilt auch für bestimmte Grundthesen der Zweiquellentheorie: a) Die Annahme der Markuspriorität stellte den Vorrang der apostolischen Evangelien Matthäus und Johannes infrage, b) die Kritik an der Historizität des Johannes wurde als Kritik an den christologischen Grundüberzeugungen der Bekenntnisse verstanden, und c) die Annahme einer nicht-kanonischen Spruchsammlung und deren Verwertung für die Rekonstruktion des Lebens Jesu rührte an Grundfragen des Schriftprinzips und der Inspirationslehre im Protestantismus. Die Zweiquellentheorie hatte sich demnach gegen erhebliche Widerstände und Bedenken der kirchlichen und staatlichen Obrigkeiten durchzusetzen. 2. Die so genannten Befreiungskriege gegen Napoleon, die als nationales Ereignis verstanden wurden, führten dazu, dass die Studentenschaften und die Professorenkollegien der Universitäten den Willen zur nationalen Einigung repräsentierten, der sich in Deutschland bis zur Reichsgründung 1871 nicht durchsetzen konnte.17 Die freie wissenschaftliche Betätigung an den Universitäten diente auch als Kompensation für die mangelnden

15 16 17

Christoph, Fakultäten, 350. Christoph, Fakultäten, 351. Vgl. Wehler, Gesellschaftsgeschichte 2, 504–520.

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politischen Mitwirkungsrechte.18 Der auch über 1871 hinaus beibehaltene Föderalismus in der Bildungs- und Forschungspolitik führte zu einer innerdeutschen Konkurrenz zwischen den einzelnen Bundesstaaten des Reiches. Besonders Preußen, Sachsen, Baden, Württemberg und Bayern bemühten sich um die besten Forscher und waren bereit erhebliche Geldmittel in die Forschung zu investieren, was zusätzlich zur Blüte der Universitäten in Deutschland im 19. Jh. beitrug.19 Die deutschen Universitäten des 19. Jahrhunderts waren in Philologie, Philosophie und Geschichtswissenschaft ebenso führend wie in Sprach- und Kunstgeschichte. Der Sachverhalt, dass es deutschsprachige Wissenschaftler waren, die die Zweiquellenhypothese in dieser Konsequenz ausgearbeitet hatten, ist deswegen nicht weiter verwunderlich.20

2.

Die disziplinäre Logik in Philologie und Theologie zur Ausbildung der Zweiquellentheorie im Deutschland des 19. Jh.

Für die Frage nach der disziplinären Logik, die zur Ausbildung der Zweiquellentheorie führte, sind die Entwicklungen in der Theologie, der Philosophie und der Klassischen Philologie besonders bedeutsam.21 Beginnen wir bei letzterer. In seiner Geschichte der klassischen Philologie teilt Jacob Bernays (1824–1881) die Entwicklung der klassischen Philologie in sechs Perioden ein. Die erste Periode von 370 bis zu Karl dem Großen habe sich nur mit lateinischen Quellen befasst. Die zweite habe sich bis Dante Alighieris (1265–1321) Tod erstreckt, auf sie sei die dritte, die „italienische“ Periode gefolgt, die von Francesco Petrarca (1304– 1374) bis 1495 gereicht habe. Die vierte Periode sei die französisch-deutsche, in der Joseph Juste Scaliger (1540–1609) herausragte und die durch den 30jährigen Krieg beendet worden sei (1618–1648). Die fünfte die holländisch-englische, sei durch den Rückzug der Philologie von den praktischen Wissenschaften, Theologie und Jurisprudenz, sowie die Ausbildung der eigenen Disziplin und deren Methodik geprägt gewesen. Bernays schreibt, dass „in deren Anfang der 30-jährige Krieg fällt, welcher die Theologie vielen verleidete, sodass die Philologien sich auf ihre Technik zurückzogen und sie als selbständige Disziplin

18 19 20 21

Wehler, Gesellschaftsgeschichte 2, 580. Wehler, Gesellschaftsgeschichte 2, 510f. Wehler, Gesellschaftsgeschichte 3, 423f. Lessing, Geschichte, 167–194; Reventlow, Epochen IV, 295–302; Kümmel, Neues Testament, 145–258.

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entwickelten.“22 Die sechste Periode, zu der sich Bernays selbst zählte, nannte er die „deutsche“, die mit der Mitte des 18. Jh. begann und die Bernays mit den Worten kennzeichnete: „Die sechste, die deutsche Periode, geht von der Mitte des vorigen Jahrhunderts bis jetzt […]. Bezeichnend für diese Periode ist eine neue, vollendete Art der Kritik, wie sie selbst in der Blütezeit der Philologie nicht stattgefunden hat.“23

Diese sechste Periode beendete die Epoche der philologisch-antiquarischen Forschung.24 Die Philologie hatte in dieser überwundenen Epoche noch vorwiegend sammelnde und sichtende Interessen verfolgt, hatte sich zudem auf die Artefakte der Überlieferung konzentriert und deswegen dazu geneigt, das Besondere und Außerordentliche in den Mittelpunkt zu stellen. Im 19. Jh. setzte sich die historisch-kritische Methode durch, die die vorhandenen Quellen umfassend und reflektiert auszuwerten begann. Bernays urteilte, das 19. Jh. habe einen geschichtlichen Sinn entwickelt, der dieses Jahrhundert vor dem 18. Jh. auszeichne.25 Tatsächlich wird man sagen können, dass in dieser Phase die methodischen Grundlagen für die kritische Textedition, die Grammatik und die Wörterbücher ausgebildet wurden. Für unsere Themenstellung ist vor allem der klassische Philologe Karl Lachmann (1793–1851) von großer Bedeutung, auf den die erste kritische Ausgabe des griechischen Neuen Testaments zurückgeht.26 Diese Ausgabe bewirkte nicht zuletzt auch, dass in der wissenschaftlichen Theologie die Lehre der Verbalinspiration keine Rolle mehr spielen konnte. Auf die Bedeutung Lachmanns für die Zweiquellentheorie wird noch zurückzukommen sein. In der Theologie lagen die Verhältnisse etwas anders als in der Philologie. Die Fakultäten waren konfessionell gebunden und die theologische Forschung an den Universitäten stand unter dem Druck mit den Bekenntnissen des jeweiligen Landesherrn, aber auch mit dessen politischer Ausrichtung nicht in Konflikt zu geraten. Immer wieder kam es zu Auseinandersetzungen, die zu Amtsenthebungen und Versetzungen führten.27 Für die Theologie wird man den Epocheneinschnitt, den die klassische Philologie in der Mitte des 18. Jh. datiert, eher mit dem Anfang des 19. Jh. verbinden. Hier sind die Namen Friedrich D. E. Schleiermacher (1768–1834), Ferdinand Christian Baur (1792–1860) und David Friedrich Strauß (1808–1874) zu nennen. Schleiermachers Religionsbegriff wandte den Subjektivismus des deutschen Idealismus auf die Religion an, indem 22 23 24

25 26

27

Bernays, Geschichte, 33. Bernays, Geschichte, 33. Kammer, Überlieferung, 14: Zum epistemologischen Umbruch, der die „philologischantiquarischen Wissensformen“ ablöst. Bernays, Geschichte, 26. Hertz, Lachmann, 155–167; Wilamowitz-Möllendorff, Geschichte, 58f.; Ziegler, Kritik, 197– 277. Z.B. die Entlassung und Verbannung W. M. L. de Wettes im Jahr 1819; s. Reventlow, Epochen IV, 239f.

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er diese als eine „Gemütsregung“ interpretierte, die sich in Gemeinschaft durch Kommunikation verwirklichte, nicht aber auf positive Glaubenstatsachen ausgerichtet sei. Baur wandte die historische Methode konsequent, wenn auch hegelianisch gewendet, auf die Geschichte des Urchristentums und das apostolische Zeitalter an, und Strauß entkleidete das Christentum seiner geschichtlichen Rechtfertigung, indem er seine Grundüberzeugungen historisch dekonstruierte und als aus dem „Mythos“ (im Sinne von Legende) hervorgegangen definierte. In dieser Gemengelage spielte es eine große Rolle, dass der deutsche Idealismus und seine Nachgeschichte im ab etwa 1880 ebenfalls idealistisch inspirierten Neukantianismus als das einigende Band des Diskursraums Geisteswissenschaft im 19. Jh. verstanden wurde.28 Man war überzeugt, dass durch Kants Kritiken und deren Weiterführung durch Hegel, Schelling und Fichte die Grundlage für ein wissenschaftliches Weltverhältnis des Menschen gelegt sei. Dieses beruhe auf der absoluten Freiheit des Geistes, der an die Stelle der sinnlichen Mythologien der Religion und des Staates getreten sei und, so die Programmschrift des deutschen Idealismus, eine „Mythologie der Vernunft“ begründen werde.29 Der denkerische Akt, den das autonome Subjekt in Freiheit und durch die Anleitung der Vernunft vollzieht, galt dem deutschen Idealismus als die einzig wahrhafte Form der creatio ex nihilo.30 Diese Grundüberzeugungen von der absoluten Freiheit des Geistes, seiner Vernunftleitung und der Möglichkeit, die (ideale) Wirklichkeit der Welt im subjektiven Denkakt zu erfassen, stellte den kulturgeschichtlichen Rahmen dieser Wissenschaftsleistungen dar.

3.

Schleiermachers Beitrag

Die theologische und philosophische Leistung Schleiermachers dominierte nicht nur das lange neunzehnte Jahrhundert, sondern überstand auch den Einschnitt, den Karl Barths dialektische Theologie im 20. Jh. darstellte. Während Barths Theologie so gut wie keine Resonanz in den Geisteswissenschaften hervorrief, wurde Schleiermachers Hermeneutik breit rezipiert und in ihrem Beitrag zu einer allgemeinen Hermeneutik gewürdigt. Wilhelm Diltheys (1833–1911) kritische Auseinandersetzung mit Schleiermacher bildete die Grundlage für dessen eigene Hermeneutik der Geisteswissenschaften. Auch Hans-Georg Gadamer (1900–2002) setzte sich intensiv mit Schleiermacher auseinander. Nach Gadamer habe Schleiermacher in seiner Hermeneutik die Frage nach dem Verstehen als erster richtig gestellt. Er habe das Missverstehen zu Recht als 28 29 30

Köhnke, Entstehung, 431–433. Rosenzweig, Systemprogramm, 7. Rosenzweig, Systemprogramm, 5.

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hermeneutischen Normalfall definiert. In seinen eigenen hermeneutischen Schlussfolgerungen sei Schleiermacher dann aber doch noch sehr weit von einer allgemeinen geisteswissenschaftlichen Hermeneutik entfernt geblieben.31 Die Forschung zu Schleiermachers Hermeneutik ist mit dem Erscheinen des Bands zur Hermeneutik in der Kritischen Gesamtausgabe der Werke Schleiermachers im Jahr 2012 auf eine neue Grundlage gestellt worden. Zuvor beruhten einige der häufig zitierten Worte Schleiermachers ausschließlich auf Kollegoder Vorlesungsmitschriften, etwa die auch bei Dilthey prominent zitierte Aussage über die sprachbildende Kraft des Christentums und über die Unableitbarkeit neutestamentlicher Sprachformen: „Ohne alle theologischen Voraussetzungen muß man die sprachbildende Gewalt des Christentums, sofern es ein individuelles Ganzes ist, einräumen, so daß es im Neuen Testament Sprachformen geben muß, die weder aus dem Griechischen noch Hebräischen abgeleitet werden können.“32

Gerade diese Aussage hatte aber eine bedeutende Wirkungsgeschichte. Sie bildete die Grundlage für das heute vergessene Suchen nach und Festhalten an den voces biblicae („Biblische Wörter“),33 den ausschließlich in der Septuaginta und im Neuen Testament verwendeten griechischen Wörtern, die als genuin biblisch und damit als theologisch besonders bedeutsam galten. Die Frage nach dem unverwechselbar Neutestamentlichen und damit Christlichen stellte auch die geistige Grundlage für Hermann Cremers (1834–1903) Wörterbuch, für Adolf Schlatters (1852–1938) folgenreiche Untersuchung des pistis-Begriffs und schließlich für Gerhard Kittels (1888–1948) Programm der Lexicographia Sacra bereit.34 Sie alle beriefen sich auf Schleiermachers Idee von der sprachbildenden Kraft des Christentums, die im Neuen Testament philologisch nachzuweisen sei, indem man Sprachformen identifizierte, die „weder aus dem Griechischen noch Hebräischen abgeleitet werden können“.35 Diese Anstrengungen, die Eigentümlichkeit und Originalität des Neuen Testaments philologisch-methodisch, ja lexikographisch nachzuweisen, erwiesen sich aufgrund des enormen Anwachsens der Quellen durch epigraphische und papyrologische Forschungen als erfolglos. Die Zahl der voces biblicae reduzierte sich mehr und mehr, so dass sich Julius Kögel (1871–1928), der Nachfolger Cremers, auf die Position zurückzog, dass zwar nicht die Wörter, aber doch ihre Bedeutungen charakteristisch neutestamentlich umgebildet worden seien.36 Schleiermacher war in seinem Urteil sehr viel zurückhaltender geblieben als die genannten Biblizisten Cremer, Kögel, Schlatter und Kittel und hatte festgehalten: „Die neutstamentischen [sic!] Schriftsteller führen für ihre 31 32 33 34 35 36

Gadamer, Wahrheit, 172–185. Zitat aus Schleiermacher, Hermeneutik, 68 nach Dilthey, Gesammelte Schriften 14/2, 758. Strecker, Walter Bauers Wörterbuch, 83. Vgl. dazu Bormann, Theologisches Wörterbuch, V-XXII. S. o. Anm. 32. Kögel, Wörterbuch, S. Xf.

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religiösen Begriffe keine neuen Wörter ein.“37 Er war aber gleichwohl davon überzeugt, dass die hermeneutisch geschulte Schriftinterpretation als Ziel ihres philologischen Bemühens die „Eigenthümlichkeit“, d.h. das Besondere, Individuelle, spezifisch Christliche herauszuarbeiten habe. Diese Individualität des Christentums war für Schleiermacher zugleich identitäts- wie kulturbildend. Sie galt ihm nicht nur als eine subjektive Wahrheit, sondern sie war es auch objektiv, wenn sie es vermochte, in dieser unausweichlichen Subjektivität der Person zugleich das Allgemeine zu erfassen. Das spezifisch Christliche, die Individualität des Christentums, galt Schleiermacher zugleich als die Anschauung der Wahrheit von Religion überhaupt. Er hielt für die historische Auslegung fest, dass nur der Nachweis der individuellen Abhängigkeit einer Aussage von Christus diese als christlich erweise. Da Schleiermacher die Individualität des Christentums und seine Überlegenheit unmittelbar evident erschien, konnte eine Auslegung, die zu anderen Ergebnissen kommt, nur falsch sein. Insbesondere galt: „Aber sie [die historische Auslegung; LB] wird falsch, wenn sie die neue begriffsbildende Kraft des Christentums leugnen und alles aus dem schon vorhandenen erklären will.“38 Auf die Individualität des Christentums bezogen hält er pointiert fest: „Wenn die philologische Ansicht dieses verkennt, vernichtet sie das Christentum. Wenn die Abhängigkeit von Christo Null ist gegen die persönliche Eigentümlichkeit und die vaterländische Wurzel, so ist Christus selbst Null.“39

Das Christentum sei dann „Null“, wenn es der Exegese nicht gelinge, die Selbständigkeit des Neuen Testaments und damit das „eigentümlich Christliche“ gegenüber der „jüdischen Nationalliteratur“ zum Vorschein zu bringen, da sonst das Christentum nur „modifiziertes Judentum“ sei.40 Die theologische Aufgabe, das spezifisch Christliche herauszuarbeiten, sollte sich der historisch-philologischen Methode bedienen, die aber, konsequent angewendet, prinzipiell ergebnisoffen war. Schleiermacher hatte mit der Bindung an die historische Methode zugleich die Möglichkeit für eine theologisch-wissenschaftliche Überwindung seiner Sicht des spezifisch Christlichen geöffnet. Die Ursache für diesen produktiven Widerspruch zwischen Zielsetzung und Methode liegt in Schleiermachers Hermeneutik, auf die nun einzugehen ist. Auf der Basis der Grundüberzeugungen des deutschen Idealismus hatte sich Schleiermacher von der Vorstellung einer hermeneutica sacra, einer allein für die heiligen Schriften anzuwendenden Verstehenslehre abgewendet.41 Er stellte sich auf den Standpunkt, dass die Schriften des Alten wie des Neuen Testaments 37 38 39 40

41

Schleiermacher, Kritische Gesamtausgabe II/4, 117–158. Schleiermacher, Kritische Gesamtausgabe II/4, 124. Schleiermacher, Kritische Gesamtausgabe II/4, 148f. So Schleiermacher in der Einleitung in das NT, nach Patsch, Schleiermachers Berliner Exegetik, 339f. Lange, Hermeneutik, 301.

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keinen anderen Verstehensregeln zu unterziehen seien als alle anderen Schriften. Schleiermacher öffnete damit die Möglichkeit für eine ergebnisoffene Forschung, die nicht immer wieder das christliche Dogma oder auch nur die kulturelle Überlegenheit des Christentums zu bestätigen hatte, sondern vielmehr die biblischen Schriften neben Plato, Aristoteles und das jüdische Schrifttum stellte. Die von ihm entfaltete allgemeine Hermeneutik sei auf das Neue Testament anzuwenden und in der Anwendung sei dann eine Spezialhermeneutik zu entwickeln, die aber die Grundsätze der allgemeinen Hermeneutik auf den besonderen Fall zu spezifizieren habe, d.h. z.B. zu untersuchen, inwiefern die griechischen Wörter des Neuen Testaments eher von ihren aramäischen und hebräischen Äquivalenten zu verstehen seien als von ihrem Wortgebrauch im hellenistischen Griechisch. Diese Überlegung beruht auf dem Sprachverständnis Schleiermachers, nach dem die Wörter nicht auf Sachen verweisen, die für eine gelungene Kommunikation durch Decodierung verständlich werden, sondern vielmehr auf Bedeutungen, die nur durch eine komplexe hermeneutische Verstehensleistung zu erfassen sind.42 Auf diesem Sprachverständnis beruht dann auch die berühmte Vorstellung Schleiermachers, nach der der Exeget sich dem Autor gleichstellen und zum unmittelbaren Leser eines weit in der Vergangenheit entstandenen Textes werden solle, ja sich der Aufgabe stellen müsse, den Autor besser zu verstehen als dieser sich selbst. Schleiermacher formuliert das so: „Die Aufgabe ist auch so auszudrücken ‚die Rede zuerst eben so gut und dann besser zu verstehen als ihr Urheberʻ. Denn weil wir keine unmittelbare Kenntnis dessen haben, was in ihm ist, so müssen wir vieles zum Bewußtsein zu bringen suchen was ihm unbewußt bleiben kann außer sofern er selbst reflectierend sein eigener Leser wird.“43

Schleiermacher forderte also den Rückgang hinter den Text selbst auf den diesem zugrundeliegenden Denkakt, zu dem der Leser/Interpret so gleichzeitig werden muss, dass er diesen Denkakt nachvollziehen oder gar besser vollziehen kann.44 Er legte damit eine Grundlinie der Schrifthermeneutik fest, die den Rahmen für kritische Interpretationen der neutestamentlichen Schriften so weit fasste, dass damit die materialen Ergebnisse der interpretierenden historischen Exegese nicht festgelegt waren. Die hermeneutische Interpretation des vorsprachlich Unbewußten und die philologische Genauigkeit wurden so in ein Verhältnis gesetzt, das Forschungen ermöglichte, die sich von Schleiermachers eigenen exegetischen Ergebnissen entfernen konnten. Ehe wir auf die Überwindung Schleiermachers exegetischer Einsichten zu sprechen kommen, sollen diese jedoch knapp skizziert werden.45

42 43 44 45

Schnur, Schleiermachers Hermeneutik, 180f. Schleiermacher, Kritische Gesamtausgabe II/4, 128. Lange, Hermeneutik, 301. Vgl. Lange, Historischer Jesus, 90–98.

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Die wichtigsten exegetischen Arbeiten sind in der Kritischen Gesamtausgabe I/8 gedruckt.46 Noch nicht ediert sind „Das Leben Jesu“ und die „Einleitung in das Neue Testament“, zwei Berliner Vorlesungen und deren Mitund Nachschriften, die Schleiermacher selbst nicht publiziert hatte. Hermann Patsch skizziert deren Gehalt im Schleiermacher Handbuch.47 Für die Evangelienfrage sind zwei Schriften bedeutsam: 1. „Über die Schriften des Lukas ein kritischer Versuch“ von 1817 und 2. „Über die Zeugnisse des Papias von unsern beiden ersten Evangelien“ von 1832.48 Die Lukasmonographie von 1817 wandte sich gegen die Urevangeliumsthese Eichhorns und zugleich gegen die Griesbachsche Benutzungshypothese.49 Schleiermacher untersuchte das Lukasevangelium, dessen Autor er als „Ordner und Sammler“ verstand, der vorevangelische Sammlungen („Diegesen“) bearbeitet und geordnet habe.50 Kümmel nennt diese Ansicht „Fragmenten- oder Diegesenhypothese“, während Schnelle wieder auf die Schleiermachersche Begrifflichkeit zurückgeht und nur noch von der „Diegesenhypothese“ spricht.51 Nachdem Schleiermacher im Lukasevangelium vier Sammlungen identifiziert hatte (1+2; 3,1–9,50; 9,51–19,48; 20,1–24,53), untersuchte er deren Echtheit, d.h. historische Zuverlässigkeit. Im Ergebnis hielt er fest, dass es die Hauptleistung des Lukas gewesen sei, „daß er fast lauter vorzüglich ächte und gute Stükke aufgenommen hat.“52 Dies sei kein „Zufall“, sondern „Frucht einer zwekkmäßig angestellten Forschung“.53 In der zweiten einflussreichen Schrift „Über die Zeugnisse des Papias“ von 1832 wird gelegentlich eine Vorabschattung der These von der Spruchsammlung gesehen.54 Schleiermacher analysierte die Papiaszitate zu Matthäus und Markus. Für ihn könne die Aussage des Papias über die Herrenworte des Matthäus (Περὶ δὲ τοῦ Ματθαίου ... Ματθαῖος μὲν ουν ἑβρ αΐδι διαλέκτω τὰ λόγια συνεγ-ράψατο), nur bedeuten: „Matthäus hat eine Sammlung von Aussprüchen Christi geschrieben“ und zwar neben seinem Evangelium.55 Diese „apostolische Redensammlung“56 findet er in den Reden des Matthäusevangeliums konzentriert. Die neun Kapitel der matthäischen Reden (Mt 5–7, 10, 13, 18, 23, 24+25) beruhten zudem auf Reden Christi.57 Matthäus habe 46 47 48 49 50 51

52 53 54 55 56 57

Schleiermacher, Kritische Gesamtausgabe I/8, 2001: Exegetische Schriften. Patsch, Schleiermachers Berliner Exegetik, 327–340. Schleiermacher, Schriften des Lukas, 1–180; ders., Zeugnisse des Papias, 227–254. Lange, Historischer Jesus, 91. Schleiermacher, Kritische Gesamtausgabe I/8, 180. Kümmel, Einleitung, 20: „Fragmenten- oder Diegesenhypothese“ mit Bezug auf den von Schleiermacher verwendeten Terminus „Diegese“. Schnelle, Einleitung, 187f. Schleiermacher, Kritische Gesamtausgabe I/8, 180. Ebd. Patsch, Schleiermachers Berliner Exegetik, 333. Schleiermacher, Kritische Gesamtausgabe I/8, 232. Schleiermacher, Kritische Gesamtausgabe I/8, 237. Schleiermacher, Kritische Gesamtausgabe I/8, 240.

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aber nicht die gesamte Sammlung der Reden Christi in sein Evangelium aufgenommen.58 In analoger Weise interpretierte er die Aussage des Papias, Markus habe als Dolmetscher des Petrus dessen Predigten niedergeschrieben. Diese Niederschrift sei nicht das Markusevangelium, sondern ebenfalls eine Sammlung des Markus.59 Im Ergebnis schloss Schleiermacher seine Sicht der Evangelienüberlieferung ab, indem er festhielt, dass es eine „treffliche Summe der Evangelien“ gebe: Joh biete das Wichtigste, Lk das Zuverlässigste, und Mt und Mk stünden dazwischen.60 Die Schleiermachersche Hypothese von den vorevangelischen Sammlungen behinderte einige seiner Nachfolger, die Markuspriorität zu erkennen, während die Interpretation des Papiasfragments zu den von Matthäus auf Hebräisch zusammengestellten Herrenworten und die Analyse der Reden im Matthäusevangelium die These von der Logienquelle und Spruchsammlung zumindest vorbereiteten. Die Diskussion um die Quellen der Evangelien stand immer in Beziehung zur Leben-Jesu-Forschung. Quellenfragen waren wichtig, deren Neubeantwortungen führten aber selten unmittelbar zu grundlegenden Änderungen der überwiegend liberalen, rationalistischen, sittlichen und uneschatologischen Jesusbilder. Sie beeinflussten aber die Rekonstruktion des biographischgeschichtlichen Zusammenhangs des Lebens Jesu. Dieser wiederum war wichtig, da die theologische Forschung dieser Zeit, die einzelnen Jesusworte in ihrem geschichtlich-biographischen Zusammenhang zu erklären suchte, d.h. aus dem narrativen Zusammenhang der Evangelien. In diesen biographischen Rahmen wurde allerdings mehr oder minder das gleiche liberale Jesusbild eingezeichnet.

4.

Die Destruktion der Vorgaben Schleiermachers und die Ausbildung der Zweiquellentheorie

Die drei Hauptthesen Schleiermachers waren: 1) Alle Evangelisten griffen auf vorevangelische Sammlungen zurück, deren Echtheit und Authentizität hoch zu bewerten seien. 2) Die beiden von Jüngern und Augenzeugen (apostolischen) abgefassten Evangelien, Matthäus und Johannes, seien höher zu bewerten als die nachapostolischen des Lukas und des Markus. 3) Das Johannesevangelium sei historisch besonders zuverlässig und könne zur Grundlage eines Lebens-Jesu verwendet werden. Alle drei von Schleiermacher durch exegetische Analyse gewonnenen, aber letztlich durch seine Grundüberzeugung von der auf Jesus

58 59 60

Schleiermacher, Kritische Gesamtausgabe I/8, 242. Schleiermacher, Kritische Gesamtausgabe I/8, 247–250. Schleiermacher, Kritische Gesamtausgabe I/8, 253.

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zurückgehenden Eigentümlichkeit des Christentums beeinflussten Ergebnisse hielten der weiteren kritischen Forschung nicht stand. Der von Schleiermacher angeregte Karl Lachmann, der bereits als Begründer der kritischen Editionspraxis genannt wurde, fand den Mut, den textus receptus des Neuen Testaments durch eine kritische Textausgabe, 1831 noch ohne Apparat, 1842–1850 dann mit kritischen Apparat, zu ersetzen.61 Lachmann untersuchte auch die synoptischen Evangelien und stellte fest, dass die Abweichungen zwischen der Reihenfolge der Stoffe gering seien, wenn man von Markus ausgehe und dann das Lukasevangelium sowie das Matthäusevangelium je für sich mit Markus vergleiche.62 Alle Abweichungen der Seitenreferenten von Markus ließen sich als je kohärentes redaktionelles Konzept (consilium) der Evangelienautoren erweisen. Lachmann folgerte daraus, dass damit die auch von Schleiermacher abgelehnte Matthäuspriorität widerlegt sei. Dieses „Meisterstück der vergleichenden Analyse“, so Wilamowitz-Möllendorff, bereitete eines der wichtigsten Argumente für die Markuspriorität und die Abhängigkeit der beiden Seitenreferenten von Markus vor.63 Lachmann selbst zog aber diese Schlussfolgerung nicht und hielt an Schleiermachers These von den vorevangelischen Sammlungen fest. Es waren der Philosoph Christian Hermann Weiße (1801–1866) und der Theologe Christian Gottlob Wilke (1788–1854), die an dieser Stelle die Forschung weiterbrachten. Beide publizierten im Jahr 1838 ihre Analysen des Evangelienstoffes.64 Ich beschränke mich hier auf den Leipziger Weiße.65 Dieser knüpfte explizit an Lachmann an und hielt fest, Lachmann habe, „selbst ohne es zu wollen“ eine andere Auffassung als die der Diegesenhypothese nahegelegt, nämlich die Markuspriorität.66 Lachmann sei nicht „kühn“ genug gewesen, die Brücken hinter sich abzureißen, obwohl aus seiner kritischen Analyse der Evangelien unbedingt die Benutzung des Markus durch Matthäus zu folgern sei.67 Er, Weiße, so schreibt er später, habe „vollkommen unabhängig von allen vorgefassten Meinungen, rein nur durch das Studium der Schriften selbst“ die Schlussfolgerung gezogen, dass auch Lukas Markus benutzt und eine zweite 61 62

63 64 65 66 67

Lachmann, Novum Testamentum. Lachmann, De ordine, 570–590, wiederabgedruckt in Ziegler, Kritik, 344–355, 352: „Si haec omnia ita se habent ut dixi, si et Matthaeo et Lucae ordine evangelii secundum Marcum per omnia tam exacte convenit ut illi vel minimas traiectiones suo quodam censendi sint fecisse consilio“. Das bis heute wichtigste Argument für die Zweiquellentheorie in den Worten von Kümmel, Einleitung, 31: „Entscheidend ist der Vergleich der Reihenfolge der Erzählungen in den Evv.: Mt und Lk stimmen innerhalb des mit Mk gemeinsamen Stoffes in der Reihenfolge nur soweit überein, als sie mit Mk übereinstimmen; wo sie von Mk abweichen, geht jeder seinen eigenen Weg.“ Wilamowitz-Möllendorff, Geschichte, 59. Wilke, Urevangelist; Weiße, Evangelienfrage. Vgl. Ziegler, Kritik, 277–287. Weiße, Geschichte, 15. Weiße, Geschichte, 40.

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Quelle, nämlich „die λόγια des Matthäus“ eingewoben habe.68 Weiße ist der Meinung, er sei Schleiermachers Interpretation der Papias-Notiz als Beleg für eine Spruchsammlung und Lachmanns Einsicht in die Stellung des Markus konsequent gefolgt und habe diese weiterentwickelt.69 Bei Weiße ist demnach die Zweiquellentheorie in ihren Grundannahmen der Markuspriorität und der Matthäus und Lukas gemeinsamen zweiten Quelle, der Spruchsammlung, ausgearbeitet. Die von Weiße und Wilke vorbereitete Zweiquellentheorie hat ihre abgeschlossene Gestalt dann in der Darstellung durch Holtzmann erhalten.70 Dieser stellte die Quellenfrage in den Mittelpunkt seiner Evangelienkritik und ließ sich nicht durch theologische oder hermeneutische Erwägungen von einer konsequent historischen Analyse abhalten.71 Im Gefolge des Historismus Leopold von Rankes (1795–1886) verzichtete Holtzmann darauf, durch Geschichte belehren zu wollen, sondern konzentrierte sich darauf, aus den Quellen aufzuzeigen, wie der Ereignisablauf gewesen sein muss. Im Ergebnis hielt er fest: Das Johannesevangelium könne nicht als Quelle des Lebens Jesu genutzt werden, das Markusevangelium liefere die biographischen Angaben zum Leben Jesu, die Spruchquelle überliefere dessen Verkündigung.72 Die Zweiquellentheorie führte allerdings nicht zu einer Revolutionierung der Jesusforschung. Holtzmann und andere legten nun das Markusevangelium für die Rekonstruktion des Lebens Jesu zugrunde. In seiner neutestamentlichen Theologie schreibt Holtzmann: „Die hervorragende Bedeutung, welche dieses Evangelium im Laufe des letzten Jahrhunderts gewonnen hat und heute fast unbestritten besitzt, findet ihre negative Kehrseite und sachliche Bestätigung darin, dass es, auf seinen eigenen biblischtheologischen Gehalt angesehen, hinter allen anderen Evangelien in demselben Maße zurücksteht, wie es sie in Bezug auf Erhaltung einer guten Erinnerung an gewisse, die Möglichkeiten eines allgemeinen Aufrisses des Lebens Jesu bedingende, Hauptstationen desselben, sowie an mancherlei Detail erheblich übertrifft.“73

Das von Holtzmann aus dem Markusaufriss gewonnene Leben Jesu nannte dann als eine seiner biographischen „Hauptstationen“ den Aufenthalt Jesu in der Gegend von Caesarea Philippi (Mk 8,27). Jesus habe dort sein Messiasbewusstsein entwickelt und sei mit dieser Überzeugung nach Jerusalem gezogen, um seine Lehre der Liebe zu verkündigen. Dort sei er schließlich tragisch geendet.

68 69 70 71 72

73

Weiße, Geschichte, 54. Weiße, Geschichte, 41. Bauer, Holtzmann. Holtzmann, Evangelien. Holtzmann, Lehrbuch, 127: Der Status des lukanischen Sonderguts sei noch ungeklärt; vgl. Reventlow, Epochen IV, 299. Holtzmann, Lehrbuch, 419.

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Auch auf die Arbeiten von Johannes Weiß (1863–1914) hatte die Zweiquellentheorie einen weit geringeren Einfluss als oft angenommen wird. Als er 1891 die eschatologische Dimension der Verkündigung Jesu und dessen Vorstellung von der βασιλεία τοῦ θεοῦ energisch und überzeugend darlegte, setzte er für diese epochale Neuinterpretation weniger an der Spruchsammlung an als vielmehr an einer Analyse der spät-alttestamentlichen Quellen und der jüdischen Apokalyptik.74 Er folgte zwar der Zweiquellentheorie, machte aber doch deutlich, dass seine Argumentation auf einer anderen Überlegung beruhte: „Denn diejenigen Stadien der Überlieferung, die uns am wichtigsten sein müssten, liegen eben vor [i.O. gesp.] der Entstehung jener Quellen.“75 Nicht die Logienquelle selbst, sondern vielmehr die in ihr zum Ausdruck gebrachten und von der jüdischen Apokalyptik geprägten Vorstellungen seien demnach für das Verständnis der Verkündigung Jesu heranzuziehen.76 Die Arbeit von Weiß erregte große Aufmerksamkeit, aber Adolf von Harnack (1851–1930) und Julius Wellhausen (1844–1918) wiesen sie als übertrieben zurück. Zum Abschluss seiner Untersuchung der Logienquelle fragt Harnack: Mk oder Q „Wer ist wertvoller?“ und entscheidet, die Spruchsammlung sei dem Markusevangelium überlegen: „Das Bild Jesu, welches Q in den Sprüchen gegeben hat, ist im Vordergrunde geblieben. Die Versuche, es durch das des Markus zu verdrängen, sind nicht geglückt; sie werden immer wieder in Abgründe führen und sich selbst auflösen. Die Spruchsammlung und Markus müssen in Kraft bleiben, aber jene steht voran. Vor allem wird die Übertreibung des apokalyptisch-eschatologischen Elements in der Verkündigung Jesu und die Zurückstellung der rein religiösen und moralischen Momente hinter jenes immer wieder ihre Widerlegung durch die Spruchsammlung finden. Sie bietet Gewähr für das, was in der Verkündigung Jesu die Hauptsache gewesen ist: die Gotteserkenntnis und die Moral zu Buße und Glauben, zum Verzicht auf die Welt und zum Gewinn des Himmels – nichts anderes.“

Harnack interpretierte demnach die Logienquelle im Rahmen des vorherrschenden liberalen Jesusbildes.77 Wellhausen zog zumindest einen bemerkenswert kritischen Schluss aus der Markuspriorität und der Zweiquellentheorie: „Das zweite Evangelium (Markus) ist unzulänglich, hat aber den Vorzug, Jesus am wenigsten als Christen vorzustellen. […] Wir müssen die Wißbegier nach dem historischen Jesus zügeln“.78

74 75 76 77 78

Weiß, Predigt, 1–36. Weiß, Predigt, 37. Weiß, Predigt, 38. Harnack, Beiträge, 173. Wellhausen, Einleitung, 167–170, hier 170.

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Die Logienquelle: ein Produkt des deutschen Protestantismus des 19. Jahrhunderts?

Fassen wir zusammen: Schleiermachers exegetische Arbeiten trugen zur Entwicklung der Zweiquellentheorie dadurch bei, dass sie die Matthäuspriorität und die damit seit Griesbach verbundene Benutzungshypothese infrage stellte sowie die Papiasnotiz so auswertete, dass es eine Sammlung von Reden Christi gegeben habe, deren Grundbestand in den Reden des Matthäusevangeliums zu finden sei. Damit öffnete Schleiermacher den Weg für Überlegungen, wie sie dann von Lachmann, Wilke und Weiße angestellt wurden. Wichtiger als die im engeren Sinn exegetischen Beiträge Schleiermachers war dann aber sein Beharren auf einer allgemeinen Hermeneutik, nach der die Analyse der biblischen Schriften insgesamt den gleichen hermeneutischen Prinzipien zu unterwerfen sei wie die jeglicher anderer Schriften auch. Schleiermacher gewann aus den Einsichten des deutschen Idealismus die Überzeugung, dass jede Interpretation vom Missverstehen als Normalfall auszugehen und sich der Prozess des Verstehens als hermeneutische Kunst umfassend um die Rekonstruktion und um den Nachvollzug des individuellen und spezifischen Denkakts, der der jeweiligen Schrift zugrunde liege, zu bemühen habe. Schleiermacher fragte bei der Interpretation der Evangelien vor allem danach, inwieweit diese aus einem Denkakt Christi hervorgegangen seien. Für ihn war eine Interpretation der Evangelien erst dann gelungen, wenn sie diese auf den Denkakt Jesu zurückführen und das „spezifisch Christliche“ dieser Texte herausarbeiten könne. Aufgrund dieser Konzentration auf das im Denkakt Jesu fassbare spezifisch Christliche, das Schleiermacher ausschließlich in der eigentümlichen und individuellen Gemütsregung Jesu verortete, hielt er an der Priorität des Johannesevangeliums und an der Historizität der vorevangelischen Sammlungen fest. Lachmann war von Schleiermacher beeinflusst und wollte durch seine methodisch konsequente historische Rekonstruktion des Textes des Neuen Testaments wie auch der Evangelien die Grundlage für ein nachvollziehendes Verstehen dieser Texte ermöglichen. So wie er für das Neue Testament nur den Text des vierten Jahrhunderts und nicht den „Urtext“ rekonstruierte, sah er in seiner Theorie der vorevangelischen Sammlungen ebenfalls nur die „mittlere“ Stufe der Evangelienentstehung erreicht. Von dort sollten dann die höhere Kritik nach dem Urtext sowie die hermeneutische Evangelieninterpretation nach dem Denkakt Christi fragen. Nachdem nun aber Lachmann die konsequent historische Analyse eingeführt und zu überzeugenden Ergebnissen geführt hatte, hatten parallel dazu Baur und Strauß den Weg zu einer Evangelieninterpretation eröffnet, die sich von der Schleiermacherschen Vorgabe, alles Christliche auf den Denkakt

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bzw. die Gemütsregung Jesu zurückzuführen, gelöst hatte. Im Gefolge dieser vertieft konsequenten Historisierung der Evangelieninterpretation nahmen die Untersuchungen von Wilke, Weiße und Holtzmann keine Rücksichten mehr auf die möglichen Ergebnisse, sondern analysierten die Evangelientexte methodisch konsequent und ergebnisoffen. In dieser Entwicklung spielten antikatholische Affekte keine erkennbare Rolle und auch die vermeintliche Instrumentalisierung der Zweiquellentheorie als „German Protestant Dogma“ im Kulturkampf ab 1871, die Farmer unterstellt, hat nicht stattgefunden. Die Zweiquellentheorie fügte sich hingegen in die spezifisch protestantische Legitimierungserzählung der Wissenschaft ein. Der deutsche Protestantismus im 19. Jahrhundert war davon überzeugt, dass Religion und Wissenschaft keine Gegensätze darstellten. Die Grundlagen des Protestantismus, Individualität, Freiheit des autonomen Subjekts und Rationalität als grundlegender Weltbezug, forderten es hingegen geradezu, dass die Überzeugungen des Protestantismus auf den Ergebnissen der Wissenschaft fußten. Die Zweiquellentheorie als Ergebnis der konsequent historischen Betrachtung des Neuen Testaments erfüllte diese Erwartungen. Sie stellte allerdings kein „German Protestant Dogma“ dar und hatte sich auch in Deutschland gegenüber biblizistischen Interpretationen der Cremer-Schlatter-Tradition wie gegenüber dem konservativen Historismus Theodor von Zahns (1838–1933) zu behaupten. So ist es auch kein Zufall, dass die Zweiquellentheorie keinen erkennbaren Einfluss auf die Artikel der ersten Bände des Theologischen Wörterbuchs zum Neuen Testament ausübte. Falls der Begriff der Dogmatisierung überhaupt angebracht ist, wird man diese eher im Zuge der redaktionsgeschichtlichen Forschungen in den fünfziger und sechziger Jahren des 20. Jahrhunderts feststellen können. Die Zweiquellentheorie hat erheblich zu einer konsequenten Historisierung der Erforschung der Evangelien beigetragen, indem sie die Quellenkritik als Grundlage jeder weiteren Arbeit in das Bewusstsein gerückt hat. Gestützt von der Kritik an der Historizität des Johannesevangeliums, stellte sie die Bedeutung der synoptischen Überlieferung für die Jesusfrage heraus. Sie ermöglichte es, die Evangelienverfasser als Autoren wahrzunehmen, auch wenn diese zunächst nur als „Ordner und Sammler“ aufgefasst wurden, und bildet bis heute einen unumgänglichen Teil des Wissensdiskurses um die Evangelienüberlieferung.

Bibliographie Bauer, W., Heinrich Julius Holtzmann (geb. 17. Mai 1832). Ein Lebensbild, Gießen 1932. Bernays, J., Geschichte der Klassischen Philologie. Vorlesungsnachschrift von Robert Münzel, hg. H. Kurig (Spudasmata 120), Hildesheim 2008. Bormann, L., Das Theologische Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament im 21. Jahrhundert. Überlegungen zu seiner Geschichte und heutigen Benutzung, in: G. Kittel/G. Friedrich (ed.), Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament, Darmstadt 2019, V–XXII.

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Christoph, J. E., Die Evangelisch-theologischen Fakultäten, in: T. Holzner/H. Ludyga (ed.), Entwicklungstendenzen des Staatskirchen- und Religionsverfassungsrechts. Ausgewählte begrifflich-systematische, historische, gegenwartsbezogene und biographische Beiträge (19.– 21. Jahrhundert) (Kirchen- und Staatskirchenrecht 15), Paderborn 2013, 343–384. Dilthey, W., Gesammelte Schriften 14, Leben Schleiermachers, Tlbd. 2: Schleiermachers System als Philosophie und Theologie, Göttingen 1985. Farmer, W. R., State Interesse and Markan Primacy, in: H. von Reventlow/W. R. Farmer (ed.), Biblical Studies and the Shifting of Paradigms. 1850–1914, London 1995, 15–49 = Farmer, W. R., State Interesse and Marcan Primacy, in: F. van Segbroeck (ed.), The Four Gospels (BETL 100), Leuven 1992, S. 2477–2498. Gadamer, H.-G., Wahrheit und Methode, Tübingen 21965. Harnack, A. von, Beiträge zur Einleitung in das Neue Testament 2: Sprüche und Reden Jesu, Leipzig 1907. Hertz, M., Karl Lachmann. Eine Biographie, Neudr. d. Ausg. von 1851, Osnabrück 1972. Holtzmann, H. J., Die synoptischen Evangelien. Ihr Ursprung und geschichtlicher Charakter, Leipzig 1863. Ders., Lehrbuch der neutestamentlichen Theologie, Freiburg 1897. Kammer, S., Überlieferung. Das philologisch-antiquarische Wissen im frühen 18. Jahrhundert, Berlin 2017. Kittel, R. (ed.), Bericht über das Studienjahr 1916/17, Leipzig 1917. Kittel, R., Luther und die Reformation, in: ders., Bericht über das Studienjahr 1916/17, 21–47. Kögel, J., Biblisch-theologisches Wörterbuch der neutestamentlichen Gräzität von Hermann Cremer, Gotha 101915. Köhnke, K. C., Entstehung und Aufstieg des Neukantianismus. Die deutsche Universitätsphilosophie zwischen Idealismus und Positivismus, Frankfurt am Main 1986. Kümmel, W. G., Einleitung in das Neue Testament, Heidelberg 211983. Kümmel, W. G., Das Neue Testament. Geschichte der Erforschung seiner Probleme (Orbis academicus 3, Protestantische Theologie 3), München 21970 [Engl.: The New Testament. The History of the Investigations of its Problems, Nashville/ New York 1972]. Lachmann, K., Novum Testamentum Graece et Latine. Ex Recensione Knappiana Adiectis Variis Griesbachii et Lachmanni Lectionibus, Lipsiae 1832. Lachmann, K., Novum Testamentum Graece et Latine, 2 Bd., Berlin/Boston reprint 2018. Lachmann, K., De ordine narrationum in evangeliis synopticis, in: Theologische Studien und Kritiken 8 (1835), 570–590. Lange, D., Hermeneutik, in: M. Ohst (ed.), Schleiermacher Handbuch, Tübingen 2017, 300–308. Lange, D., Historischer Jesus oder mythischer Christus. Untersuchungen zu dem Gegensatz zwischen Friedrich Schleiermacher und David Friedrich Strauß, Gütersloh 1975. Leese, K., Philosophie und Theologie im Spätidealismus: Forschungen zur Auseinandersetzung von Christentum und idealistischer Philosophie im 19. Jh., Berlin 1929. Lessing, E., Geschichte der deutschsprachigen evangelischen Theologie von Albrecht Ritschl bis zur Gegenwart 1, 1870–1918, Göttingen 2000. Lyotard, J.-F., Das postmoderne Wissen. Ein Bericht, Wien 31994 [franz. Orig. La condition postmoderne 1982]. Ohst, M. (Hg.), Schleiermacher Handbuch, Tübingen 2017. Patsch, H., Schleiermachers Berliner Exegetik, in: M. Ohst (ed.), Schleiermacher Handbuch, Tübingen 2017, 327–340. Reventlow, H. von, Conditions and presuppositions of Biblical criticism in Germany in the period of the Second empire and before. The Case of Heinrich Julius Holtzmann, in: ders./W. R. Farmer (Hg.), Biblical Studies and the Shifting of Paradigms. 1850–1914, London 1995, 272–290. Reventlow, H. von, Epochen der Bibelauslegung I–IV. Von der Aufklärung bis zum 20. Jahrhundert, München 1990–2001 [Engl.: History of biblical interpretation I–IV, 2009f.]. Rosenzweig, F., Das älteste Systemprogramm des deutschen Idealismus. Ein handschriftlicher Fund (SHAW.PH 1917,5), Heidelberg 1917.

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Schleiermacher, F. D. E., Über die Schriften des Lukas ein kritischer Versuch (1817), in: ders., Kritische Gesamtausgabe I/8, 1–180. Schleiermacher, F. D. E., Über die Zeugnisse des Papias von unsern beiden ersten Evangelien (1832), in: ders., Kritische Gesamtausgabe I/8, 227–254. Schleiermacher, F. D. E., Vorlesungen zur Hermeneutik und Kritik, in: ders., Kritische Gesamtausgabe II/4., 117–158. Schnelle, U., Einleitung in das Neue Testament, Göttingen 72010. Schnur, H., Schleiermachers Hermeneutik und ihre Vorgeschichte im 18. Jahrhundert. Studien zur Bibelauslegung, zu Hamann, Herder und F. Schlegel, Stuttgart 1994. Stieda, W., Rede zum Rektorwechsel an der Universität Leipzig am 31. Oktober 1917, in: R. Kittel (ed.), Bericht über das Studienjahr 1916/17, Leipzig 1917, 21–31. Strecker, G., Walter Bauers Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament in neuer Auflage, in: ThLZ 116 (1991), 81–92. Wehler, H. U., Deutsche Gesellschaftsgeschichte 2, München 31996. Wehler, H. U., Deutsche Gesellschaftsgeschichte 3, München 1996. Weiß, J., Die Predigt vom Reiche Gottes, Göttingen 31964, 1–36. Weiße, C. H., Die evangelische Geschichte kritisch und philosophisch betrachtet, 2 Bd., Leipzig 1838. Weiße, C. H., Die Evangelienfrage in ihrem gegenwärtigen Stadium, Leipzig 1856. Wellhausen, J., Einleitung in die drei ersten Evangelien, Berlin 21911. Wilamowitz-Möllendorff, U. von, Geschichte der Philologie, Stuttgart 31921. Wilke, C. G., Der Urevangelist, oder exegetisch-kritische Untersuchung über das Verwandtschaftsverhältnis der drei ersten Evangelien, Dresden 1838. Ziegler, W., Die „wahre strenghistorische Kritik“. Leben und Werk Carl Lachmanns und sein Beitrag zur neutestamentlichen Wissenschaft, Hamburg 2000.

The Reception of Q Studies in the UK: No room at the inn? Christopher Tuckett

1.

Introduction

This is in many ways a strange paper to try to write. When the essay was originally requested, it was suggested that the broad question to be addressed was why Q studies have fared more positively, or negatively, in some contexts (geographical, social, ‘religious’) than others. And I agreed to write about Q studies in the UK.1 I am though acutely aware that, in this context (as in many others), one’s own perspective and stance will inevitably shape the discussion. My thesis is that Q studies have never found much acceptance in a UK context, and I shall try to discuss why that should be so. Writing as someone who has been actively involved in Q studies over several years, the discussion will be seen by some as assuming that Q studies should have been more accepted by looking for reasons behind those who question Q. Someone else writing this paper from a more ‘Q sceptical’ viewpoint might well take a rather different line, arguing that Q studies in the UK have been enthusiastically taken on by only a small minority and then raising the question of what reasons might lie behind this strange scholarly aberration by a tiny group! However, no one is an island: we all bring our own perspectives to any discussion and it is very difficult, perhaps impossible, to write in a totally neutral way on this, or on any, topic of debate. The second reason why this paper is not easy to write is that it involves asking in part about motives and reasons which might lie behind various individuals’ scholarly writings. Such reasons and/or motivations are inevitably not easy, some would say impossible, to discern. They may depend in part on private knowledge which is not always readily available. Certainly that is the case for myself – in various ways. I do not necessarily know what might lie behind others’ work. If ‘religious’ (or denominational) affiliations are relevant, I do not even necessarily know the religious beliefs or affiliations of my colleagues, nor should I: the situation is the UK is that most institutions of higher education are not confessionally aligned in any way, so one cannot necessarily 1

To be fair, the original request was to write about Q studies in Anglican scholarship. My response was that biblical studies in the UK are generally not confessionally aligned, but I might be able to try to say something about the UK as a geographical location, and the conference organizers kindly agreed to this.

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know what affiliation or beliefs any one individual might adhere to on the basis of where they work.2 I may know a little about some of my colleagues in a private capacity; but I do not know, nor would I presume to try to guess, about the beliefs of others. Equally, I do not necessarily know what underlying factors might drive my own researches and quests in seeking to delve into Q studies. I know that such studies have fascinated me, and I believe that I have tried to follow where the evidence of the gospels texts has led me. But whether there is some underlying driving force, ‘religious’, social or other, that leads me to come to the conclusions I reach, is certainly not clear to myself.

2.

Q scholarship in the UK

A brief word on nomenclature. What does ‘in the UK’ mean in this context? Does it refer to scholars who are British by nationality? Or to those working in the UK? For example, Mark Goodacre did much of his earlier work in the UK but now works in the US. Others have come to work in the UK from elsewhere (e.g. Ron Piper, Paul Foster). For the purposes of this paper, I take the phrase ‘in the UK’ fairly broadly: thus I include those who have worked here in the past (perhaps as UK nationals) even though they may now be working elsewhere; and I also include those who have come here from elsewhere and worked/are working in the UK. It is the case in many areas of the world that detailed scholarly discussions of Q, especially issues such as a possible distinctive outlook of Q (a ‘Q theology’) or the social and /or geographical setting of a possible group lying behind and responsible for disseminating the Q tradition (a ‘Q community’ or ‘Q group’), remain something of a ‘minority sport’ – of interest to, and discussed by, a small group of specialists but regarded with some suspicion and doubts by many not engaged in the debates themselves.3 Certainly this is, and has been for many years, the situation in the UK. Rather, the debates in the UK in recent years have focused almost exclusively on the prior question of the existence of Q: discussions about a possible ‘Q theology’ or ‘Q community’ are regarded by many as unwarranted speculations going far beyond the available evidence; indeed there has been a strong body of opinion, especially in the last 20–30 years, that such speculations are based on a scholarly fantasy world with no basis in reality at all since Q did not exist. Debates about the possible ‘theology’ and/or social 2

3

The situation in the UK is thus unlike a number of institutions in Germany, France, or North America. Dieter Lührmann once told me in conversation that when he was working on Q in Germany (for his Habilitationsschrift) in the late 1960s, very few others in Germany were working in this area or had any real interest in it.

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setting of Q, as well as debates about layers or strata within Q, have of course been strongly developed by some in a number of contexts.4 Yet my impression is that these are rarely discussed in a UK context, except by a few who have not only accepted the theory of the existence of a Q source but who have also sought to take this further to develop discussions about the nature, setting and ideas of Q. Rather, the debate in the UK has often focused on the prior question of the existence of Q.5 Such a lack of interest in Q has not always been the case. At the start of the 20th century, British scholarship enthusiastically adopted the Two Document Hypothesis (2DH) as it had been developed in the late 19th century in Germany by those such as Holtzmann and Wernle. In England this was taken up in the work of Sanday and his Oxford seminar and reached what was probably a zenith in B. H. Streeter’s The Four Gospels (1924) which became a standard work for many English speaking students of the Synoptic Problem.6 And of course this form of the 2DH7 included postulating the existence of Q (and indeed, for Streeter, its place of origin – Antioch). However, already in the time of Streeter, source criticism in the UK was closely tied up with issues of historicity of the tradition, and blithe assumptions were often made about the historical reliability (in absolute terms) of the earliest sources in the synoptic gospels.8 Thus British scholars followed the trend of much 19th century German scholarship in assuming the basic historical reliability of Mark’s gospel and then writing confident reconstructions of the life of Jesus based on that gospel’s story line.9 In turn, this produced a strong, at times almost visceral, reaction to the work of Wrede on the messianic secret in Mark and his claims about the non-historical nature of so many of the secrecy elements in Mark:10 British scholars argued forcefully (and somewhat shrilly) 4

5

6 7

8

9

10

Cf. the work in the late 1960s and early 1970s in German by Lührmann, Hoffmann and Schulz; and also the work in N. America of the IQP, as well as scholars such as Kloppenborg and a number of his students. See also Piper, Quest, 5: in much British scholarship, rather than questions about the stratification, Christology or eschatology in Q, ‘the issue has remained the more basic one of whether Q existed at all’. The doubts about the existence of Q have probably intensified even more in the 25 years since Piper wrote. Sanday (ed.), Oxford Studies; Streeter, Four Gospels. For Streeter it was a Four Document Hypothesis, adding ‘M’ and ‘L’ as postulated written sources alongside Mark and Q. See Tuckett, Theological Issues, with further references; the situation was no different in the 18th and 19th centuries in Europe: see Kloppenborg, Conceptual Stakes, 30–32 (on Lessing and Holtzmann, using their synoptic source theories to buttress their views about Jesus). Cf. e.g. Sanday, Burkitt in England, following the examples of others in Germany (documented in Schweitzer, Quest, ch. 14 [‘The “Liberal” Lives of Jesus’]). See further the references in the previous note for more details, including the powerful influence of Holtzmann’s portrait of the life of Jesus. Wrede, Messianic Secret.

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that Wrede’s deductions (or presumptions) about the non-historical nature of much of the secrecy theme in Mark could not be right. In relation to Q, in the first half of the 20th century, there was no comparable questioning of the historicity of Q. Harnack’s claims and/or assumptions about the fundamental authenticity and reliability of the Q source, as reflecting the teaching of the historical Jesus with virtually no change at all,11 were widely accepted. Thus T. W. Manson’s influential work on the Q tradition was entitled The Sayings of Jesus and there was little in Manson’s work to question that, in his analysis of the Q material, he was indeed dealing with the sayings of Jesus with little significant interference from post-Easter Christians.12 In this earlier period in the UK, there were some who questioned the Q theory. In 1915, Lummis published a small book arguing against the existence of Q and for Luke’s knowledge of Matthew; and in 1922, Jameson argued for a revival of the so-called Augustinian hypothesis (Matthew written first, then Mark, then Luke using both Matthew and Mark).13 Some time later, Chapman and Butler also argued for the Augustinian hypothesis.14 The main plank of their theory was the questioning of Markan priority (as well as rejecting the existence of Q). Further both were Roman Catholics, and both lived and worked within religious orders: neither had a post in a university or college (so that their influence was not widely felt).15 One suspects that a significant factor was their desire, as Catholics, to stay within the parameters set down by the Biblical Pontifical Commission which decreed that Matthean priority was to be upheld. Butler’s work in particular was however very significant in showing that (one of) the traditional argument(s) from order was inconclusive and showed only that Mark’s gospel was ‘medial’ in a tree of relationships, rather than necessarily prior.16 But their overall theory convinced few and had little impact at the time. However, the general way in which source criticism was used to make (what most would now regard as unjustifiable) deductions about the historicity of the tradition made for a general climate in which theories about Q as a source with its own particular slant and distinctive characteristics were regarded as somewhat unattractive. The start of such debates about Q is often traced to H. E. Tödt’s dissertation on the Son of Man sayings.17 But certainly this aspect of 11 12 13

14 15

16

17

Harnack, Sayings, 250–251. Manson, Sayings. Lummis, How Luke was Written; Jameson, Origin. The negative treatment of both by Streeter and others is strongly criticised by Farmer, Synoptic Problem, 111–114. Chapman, Matthew, Mark and Luke; Butler, Originality. Both were also working in the days before the flood of international colloquia and society meetings which have increased vastly in more recent years, a situation which has led to a much more active, and faster, interchange of ideas and discussions of different theories. See Butler, Originality, 62–71, on ‘The Lachmann Fallacy’, which was clearly very influential for the work of W. R. Farmer. Tödt, Son of Man.

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Tödt’s study found little favour in British scholarship. Insofar as British scholarship entered into the debates about the ‘Son of Man problem’ (and generally it did in a big way), the prime focus of attention was on what the term ‘Son of Man’ might have meant on the lips of Jesus himself. How later Christians might have modified the tradition, and in particular whether Q had a particular stance on this issue, was generally only considered as part of the attempt to recover the meaning of the term by the historical Jesus. The later developments in German speaking scholarship on Q, e.g. the studies of Hoffmann, Lührmann and Schulz, were ignored by many. In the broader world of international NT scholarship, interest in the Synoptic Problem received a massive impetus with the work of W. R. Farmer and his revival of the Griesbach Hypothesis. His major study first appeared in 1964,18 and he subsequently worked tirelessly, through organising conferences, colloquia, promoting seminars at major academic society meetings etc., in getting the Synoptic Problem in general, and the Griesbach Hypothesis in particular, on to the scholarly agenda in a major way. British NT scholars supporting the Griesbach Hypothesis specifically were very few in number: Bernard Orchard was an enthusiastic supporter, and Harold Riley wrote a book about Mark from a Griesbachian perspective;19 but it is probably fair to say that neither had much influence within the British scene as such.20 Nevertheless, the climate of international scholarly opinion in relation to the 2DH was clearly changing, so that it could no longer be assumed as axiomatic that the 2DH was the unquestioned and unquestionable solution to the Synoptic Problem. And this general climate was certainly reflected in the UK. There has been then an increasing revival of interest in the Synoptic Problem in the UK, and the particular issue in this interest has focused on the existence (or otherwise) of Q, rather than any questioning of Markan priority. Thus quite a number of British scholars have defended the ‘Farrer hypothesis’ (FH), accepting Markan priority but claiming that Q did not exist and that Luke made direct use of Matthew. A number have argued that an appreciation of the literary ability, possibly even artistry, of the evangelists (mostly Luke, though also for some Matthew) renders the existence of a Q source unnecessary and/or redundant: the double tradition agreements can be explained satisfactorily and adequately by a theory of Luke using Matthew, provided one takes on board Luke’s ability as a writer. And although the nature of NT scholarship now is such that it is international and knows no national boundaries, British scholarship has been prominent in this strong advocacy in recent years of the FH.21 18 19 20 21

Farmer, Synoptic Problem. Orchard, Matthew, Luke & Mark; Riley, Making. Orchard was a Benedictine monk at Ealing Abbey; Riley was a retired parish priest. Significant figures from the UK in more recent discussions have included Michael Goulder, Eric Franklin, Mark Goodacre, Francis Watson, Eric Eve, John Muddiman and others, though there is now also a strong measure of support for the FH from a number

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This new wave of synoptic scholarship in the UK owes much to the work of Austin Farrer (reflected of course in the name given to the hypothesis in modern times).22 In his day, Farrer was perhaps unusual (at least within the UK) in advocating the creativity of the gospel writers. He applied this to the Synoptic Problem in his seminal essay ‘On Dispensing with Q’ in which he argued that an appeal to a ‘hypothetical’ Q source was redundant and unnecessary to explain Luke’s gospel:23 all could be explained by Luke’s creative use of Matthew. In particular, Farrer argued that a major part of Luke’s central section (especially in Luke 10.25–18.30) could be explained as Luke’s presenting a new ‘Deuteronomy’, an idea developed further (though also with some modifications) by John Drury.24 Farrer’s theory about Q (or non-Q) was developed in massive detail in the work of Michael Goulder.25 For Goulder, arguments about the existence or otherwise of Q were also affected by his theories about the genesis of Matthew’s gospel. Goulder took even more seriously the theory about the literary creativity of the evangelists by arguing that Matthew (as well as Luke) was a highly creative writer. Thus while Goulder accepted the theory of Markan priority, he argued that Matthew had no other sources available to him in writing his gospel: the non-Markan material in Matthew was the result of the evangelist’s creativity on the basis of Jewish scripture. In Goulder’s terminology, Matthew was a ‘midrash’, based on Mark and OT texts. In turn this meant that no Q source existed behind the genesis of Matthew’s gospel. Goulder also argued that any allegedly distinctive features of Q (whether at the level of ideas or terminology) were indistinguishable from those of Matthew: all the non-Markan material was due to Matthean redaction and any distinctive features of Q which others had claimed to identify were simply Mattheanisms. ‘Q’ and Matthew were indistinguishable. Luke’s dependence on Q was thus equally indistinguishable from Luke’s dependence on Matthew (provided, as with Farrer, that one postulates a significant measure of creative rewriting on the part of Luke). A number of Goulder’s specific theories, especially about Matthew, have not convinced others; and hence many who have agreed with his overall source hypothesis in relation to the Synoptic Problem, including the (non-)existence of

22

23 24 25

of North American scholars. Some aspects of the FH are also adopted by Ed Sanders and Meg Davies (see below). An emphasis on the literary skill and artistry of Luke is particularly prominent in the work of Drury, Franklin and Goodacre. For Goulder, see below. Farrer was by no means the first to advocate the theory: it was suggested earlier in the 20th century by J. H. Ropes and M. S. Enslin, though without a very detailed defence: see Goodacre, Case, 10; Kloppenborg, Synoptic Problems, 52, 62. See the fuller survey of the history of the FH in the essay of Foster in this volume. Farrer, On Dispensing with Q. Drury, Tradition. Goulder, Midrash and Lection; Goulder, Luke.

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Q, have not accepted all his arguments and theories.26 Nevertheless, in the 21st century the FH has attracted considerable support, both in and outside the UK:27 and this has certainly generated a climate of opinion in the UK where the existence of Q is regarded as highly questionable, and hence (logically secondary) discussions of the distinctive features of Q, its possible theology, social location etc, are rarely discussed. As well as supporters of the FH, Q’s existence has been questioned by others within UK scholarship. James Dunn has argued strongly over many years for a greater appreciation of oral tradition. With this in mind he has questioned whether all the material generally assigned to Q should really belong here, especially when the level of verbal agreement is relatively low. Thus he distinguishes between what he calls ‘Q’ material, exhibiting a high level of verbal agreement between Matthew and Luke and suggesting a literary relationship between the gospels (which he is happy to explain by dependence on a [written] Q source), and ‘q’ material where the level of agreement is much lower and where the agreement may be due to common oral tradition(s).28 Thus ‘Q’ as a written text is curtailed in extent considerably. Similarly Tom Wright has on a number of occasions expressed strongly worded critiques about the validity of the Q hypothesis (as well as criticisms of those who have developed theories about Q elsewhere).29 Ed Sanders and Meg Davies have also argued for Luke’s use 26

27

28

29

Thus many have preferred to keep the name ‘Farrer hypothesis’ rather than ‘FarrerGoulder hypothesis’ (despite the fact that it was Goulder who developed Farrer’s initial exploratory essay in much more detail). At a conference in Oxford in 2008, advocates of this hypothesis agreed that they preferred the name ‘FH’. Cf. too Goodacre, Case, 13–14. Watson has gone further, using the description ‘L/M hypothesis’, to avoid any connection with one specific scholar’s theories: see Watson, Gospel Writing, 119. Within the UK, the most detailed and strongest support has been in the work of Goodacre and Watson. Dunn, Default Setting; Dunn, Q1 as Oral Tradition. For a searching critique, see Kloppenborg’s essay ‘Variation in the Reproduction of the Double Tradition and an Oral Q?’, in his Synoptic Problems, 91–119. Kloppenborg shows that it is not the low level of verbal agreement in the double tradition that is anomalous, but rather the high level. A lower level of verbal agreement is precisely what one gets elsewhere in texts which are in a relationship of literary dependence. Wright, New Testament and People of God, 436–443, with a particularly strong broadside against what he calls the ‘Q-and-Thomas hypothesis’. Wright’s description of ‘the’ hypothesis which he wishes to oppose, is however highly tendentious and inaccurate. He claims that ‘the Q-and-Thomas hypothesis’ links Q and Thomas, seeing both as presenting Jesus as a wisdom and/or Cynic teacher. For a strong critique (to my mind fully justified) of Wright’s claims, see Kloppenborg, Synoptic Problems, 334–342. Moreover, as Wright himself acknowledges in passing, there are others who have taken Q seriously but without subscribing to what he calls the ‘Q-and-Thomas hypothesis’. And although Wright does not go quite as far as denying the existence of Q outright, this seems to be the implication of much of what he says: e.g. ‘“Q” is no more, after all, than a figment of the scholarly imagination (i.e. a hypothesis). Not one scrap of manuscript evidence has turned up which can plausibly be thought of as part of this document’; and ‘theories about stages in Q

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of Matthew, though claiming too that there was probably a more complex pattern of links involving sources and/or versions underlying our present texts of Matthew and Luke (which might then include something like Q).30 There have however been some UK based scholars who have engaged positively with Q studies. David Catchpole has written extensively on Q and Q theology, engaging in particular with Michael Goulder and his argument that Q and Matthew were indistinguishable: Catchpole argues that at many points, there is a clear distinction between Q and Matthew.31 Ron Piper has published an important monograph on Wisdom in Q (and also some further essays).32 Important contributions have also been made by Gerald Downing in several studies over a number of years, looking at possible comparative figures among Greco-Roman writers using sources; his focus of attention has been related to the question of Q’s existence (arguing that a theory of Luke using Matthew implies a highly anomalous pattern of redactional behaviour by Luke) and also to the issue of whether Q might have been (or might have appeared to others to be) similar to Cynicism.33 (The latter theory has proved popular amongst some in North America, but has not found much favour in the UK.) In more recent years, Paul Foster has published articles about Q.34 And if one is allowed, I might mention my own contributions to Q studies.35 But for some of those involved in these debates, it has felt a somewhat ‘lonely’ place in the UK! The general climate of opinion in the UK seems to be one where scepticism about the existence of Q is far more widespread than acceptance of Q’s existence;36 and discussion of the possible theology and social setting of Q are correspondingly at best sparsely represented within NT scholarship within the UK.

30 31 32 33

34 35 36

reflect one strand within modern New Testament studies, rather than any hard evidence within the first century’ (438). Sanders and Davies, Studying, 51–119. Catchpole, Quest. Piper, Wisdom. Among his many essays, see especially Downing, Compositional Conventions, and Downing, Paradigm Perplex; for his views on Cynics and Cynicism, see Downing, Cynics (esp. 115–142 on Q). His article on the significance of the ‘Mark-Q overlap’ texts in relation to the FH (Downing, Rehabilitation) is still extremely valuable, over 50 years after it was first published. See e.g. Foster, Pastoral Purpose; Foster, Is Q a 'Jewish-Christian' Document? Tuckett, Q and the History. Cf. n. 5 above. The above sentiment may not be shared by all UK scholars working on Q: e.g. David Catchpole has indicated to me that he never felt particularly isolated. So the personal view expressed above may not be fully representative of others.

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Questioning Q in the UK

Why the questioning of the existence of Q has developed so much momentum in the UK in recent years is not clear. Are there particular issues, be they ‘theological’, ‘social’ or whatever, driving the Q (or non-Q) agenda in any way?37 If so they are not easy to discern. In any case the number of people involved in the debates is large enough to make any attempt to generalise and ascribe common motives or agendas to a group as a whole inappropriate and potentially misleading. I focus here on those who have questioned the existence of Q. Those who have done so within the UK are a diverse group. In terms of religious affiliation, there would seem to be nothing common to all those concerned (insofar as I know the affiliation of some of the relevant people). Some are Anglicans, some are Presbyterians, some are Catholics, some are atheists. There is thus no clear denominational link involved. It is the case that, especially for those who have written more extensively on early Christian history, theories about Q (or more often non-Q) are part of a wider agenda, or a broader vision of the history of early Christianity, but these visions may vary. For Dunn, the appeal to oral tradition to explain the similarities and differences between the gospels goes far wider than just the double tradition in the synoptics.38 For Wright, negative assessments about Q are part and parcel of a concern to argue for an underlying coherent unity within early Christianity (primarily in its Pauline form) which Q might endanger.39 So too Watson’s theory about the non-existence of Q is part of his broader vision of the development of the Jesus tradition via a process where at every stage, one gospel writer used the work of his predecessors, a model which would be disrupted if Luke did not use Matthew.40 37

38

39

40

From the side of Q-sceptics (about those who defend the 2DH), see Goulder, Juggernaut, 668: ‘People, including scholars, are not purely rational beings. They hold opinions for a multitude of reasons – respect for their teachers, attachment to the familiar …, religious predilections, unwillingness to think that they have been wrong for years (especially when they have committed themselves publicly) … to name a few.’ Kloppenborg, Synoptic Problems, 46–47, wryly comments: ‘Missing from Goulder’s list is the possibility that some embrace the 2DH on the basis of a careful examination of synoptic data and the explanations that best account for those data.’ Thus in Dunn, Default Setting, the whole synoptic tradition, including many Markan traditions, are included in the purview. Cf. Wright, New Testament and People of God, 442: ‘we cannot ignore the evidence of Paul, or assume that Q belonged to a totally different branch of Christianity from that which he represents.’ (But equally we cannot necessarily assume that Q did not!) See Watson, Gospel Writing, 604: ‘Gospels are interconnected, with later ones always directly or indirectly dependent on their predecessors.’ Watson also claims that the existence of Q would drive an unfortunate wedge between the historical Jesus and subse-

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It may be that a certain amount of personal contact, personal influence, and teacher-student relationships have played a role. Austin Farrer’s influence here can be seen, directly or indirectly, in a number of instances. Farrer was by repute an inspiring teacher. His pupils at Oxford included Goulder and Muddiman.41 Goulder too clearly influenced many others. During his time later working in the Extra-Mural Department at Birmingham, he arranged a number of study days for the general public, including discussions about Q (or not-Q), and one of these was attended by a school-aged Mark Goodacre who was inspired by Goulder’s presentation. Goodacre later studied at Oxford, and his doctoral dissertation (on Goulder) was supervised by Muddiman, as was Eric Eve’s. Drury too testifies to the influence of hearing Goulder give his Speaker’s Lectures in Oxford as helpfully contributing to his own studies at the time on Luke.42 Yet one should probably not overplay such links. First, there are others in the ‘Q-sceptic’ camp who probably arrived in that position without such direct influence. Second, the ethos within UK universities and colleges is not one where a student will necessarily follow their teacher’s or Doktorvater’s views closely. Indeed students are strongly encouraged to question and evaluate critically all those with whom they are engaging and it is by no means unusual within the UK for a doctoral student to question his/her supervisor’s views, at times radically.43 Much of the argumentation by those questioning the existence of Q is at the level of trying to show that the alternative explanation of the development of the tradition (e.g. for the FH, Luke using Matthew) is plausible and coherent.44 Of itself, this is perfectly reasonable. Nevertheless, insofar as people do argue more explicitly in a negative way about Q’s (non-) existence, some key elements keep recurring in many of the arguments by British scholars. One is a strong aversion

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quent Christianity: ‘Q entails a radical reconstruction of Christian origins in which the real, historical Jesus is set in opposition to the canonical gospels, Paul, and the mainstream church. In conjunction with the quest it enables, Q is the definitive expression of liberal Protestant ambivalence towards catholic Christianity’ (118, his stress). Such a claim, however, presupposes views about the relationship between Q and the historical Jesus (effectively equating Q with the historical Jesus) which are somewhat idiosyncratic, to say the least, among modern advocates of the existence of Q. He cites J. M. Robinson, but his views on the relationship between Q and Jesus are by no means universally held. The whole issue of the relationship between Q and Jesus would require far more detailed treatment than is possible here. John Muddiman, when he retired recently, kindly gave me a copy of his first undergraduate essay he had written for Austin Farrer as his tutor – on the issue of Q’s existence! Drury, Tradition, xi. My own Doktorvater was David Catchpole; but I am not aware that he ever exerted pressure on me to conform to his views. Of students who I have supervised, Alan Garrow completed his doctoral dissertation under my supervision; yet he devoted a significant part of his thesis to demolishing (dare one say, trying to demolish?!) my own views on the relationship between the Didache and the synoptic gospels! This covers much of the argument of, say, Goulder, Goodacre and Watson.

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to sources that are ‘hypothetical’, another is that postulating Q is ‘unnecessary’, and a third is an appeal to what is ‘simple’ and/or straightforward as the most likely explanation of the source question.45 The claim that prior consideration should be given to synoptic theories which do not postulate ‘hypothetical’ sources is by no means confined to British scholarship. It was one of the fundamental theses put forward by Farmer in 1964,46 and is then clearly shared by many who would question the 2DH. It is though, whether explicitly or implicitly, an important factor for many British scholars questioning the existence of Q. Much of the rhetoric in Farrer’s early 1955 essay concerned the ‘hypothetical’ nature of Q, and/or the ‘hypothesis’ that Q existed. For example: The Q hypothesis is a hypothesis, that is its weakness. To be rid of it we have no need of a contrary hypothesis, we merely have to make St. Luke’s use of St. Matthew intelligible.47

Similar negative comments about Q as a ‘hypothesis’, and a ‘hypothetical’ source recur throughout. Farrer insists that prior consideration should be given to theories which do not postulate other (‘hypothetical’) sources. Hence if Luke’s use of Matthew can be made plausible, that alone is enough to reject the Q theory. All that is required is to make Luke’s use of Matthew ‘intelligible’ (see above); a theory of Luke’s use of Matthew must be ‘conclusively exploded’ before even entertaining a theory of a Q source.48 This does set the bar which any Qdefender might have to jump over almost impossibly high from the start! Almost anyone can make the process of Luke using Matthew ‘intelligible’ at one level; and it is all but impossible to ‘conclusively explode’ such a theory. Behind Farrer’s rhetoric seems to lie an almost unquestioned assumption that the Synoptic Problem can, and should, only be resolved by refusing to postulate the existence of other (‘hypothetical’) sources. He claims too repeatedly that Q is ‘unevidenced’, in the sense that ‘there is no evidence for anything like Q’ among contemporary documents; ‘to postulate 45

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The three are of course related and overlap, though sometimes in different ways. An important exception to this possible trend among ‘UK scholars’ is the work of Sanders and Davies who explicitly reject any ‘simple’ solution and argue for a more complex set of relations (see their Studying, 97, 117. Sanders is of course American, though Davies was British and their joint work was written when Sanders was working in the UK.) Farmer, Synoptic Problem, 203, 209. Farrer, On Dispensing with Q, 66. Evidently, for Farrer, the theory of Luke’s use of Matthew is not a ‘hypothesis’! (On Farrer’s poor logic, and/or use of language here, see Kloppenborg, Synoptic Problems, 48.) To be fair, earlier in his essay, Farrer does talk about the ‘hypothesis’ that Luke used Matthew, comparing it with the hypothesis of use of a common source (p. 56); but he claims that the two hypotheses are not on an equal footing: ‘the first hypothesis must be conclusively exploded before we obtain the right to consider the second at all.’ See the previous note. Cf. too p. 56: ‘It is only when the latter supposition [a theory of direct dependence] has proved untenable that we have recourse to a hypothetical source.’

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Q is to postulate the unevidenced and the unique’; and making such a move ‘is to commit a prima facie offence against the principle of economy in explanation’.49 One sees here then the appeal to what is ‘economical’ (or perhaps ‘simple’) as an important criterion: an explanation that preserves ‘economy’ is preferable to one that is deemed to be not ‘economical’.50 In Goulder’s work, the negative language about Q as a ‘hypothetical’ source is less overt, and the language is sometimes different; however, the ideas are very similar. Thus at one point, he says that ‘Luke’s use of Mark is a fact (or generally accepted as one), whereas Q is a mere postulate’ (my stress).51 Perhaps more fundamental for Goulder is the claim that his hypothesis is ‘simple’. The two issues (Q as ‘hypothetical’ and a theory as ‘simple’) are not unrelated, at least for some. Thus Farmer explicitly links the ‘simplicity’ of an overall theory with its not having to postulate ‘hypothetical’ sources, and claims that such ‘simple’ theories should be given methodological priority over theories which do postulate such sources.52 Goulder too claims that his theories are ‘simple’ in this respect – and hence also ‘falsifiable’;53 and that in this he is unlike those such as Boismard in that he can explain Luke’s gospel ‘without any elastic hypothetical lost documents at all’.54 And indeed, referring to his whole synoptic theory, ‘fundamental to the whole argument is the philosophical priority of consideration for the simple before the complex. … What I am offering is the simplest paradigm of all, and that is an honourable if unwelcome enterprise.’55 Along with this is sometimes placed an appeal to ‘Occam’s razor’ (entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem) and (perhaps picking up the reference to ‘necessity’) a claim that Q must be shown to be ‘necessary’: the 2DH ‘needs therefore, on Occam’s

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Farrer, On Dispensing with Q, 58. Farrer was writing in 1955; but any claim that Q has no generic parallels has now been decisively met in the work of Kloppenborg, Formation, considering and analysing numerous sayings collections in the ancient world. However, ‘economy’ or ‘simplicity’ seems here to be at the level of generic types: postulating Q would be to posit a new genre of Christian (and/or other) texts, rather than simply positing another text as such. Goulder, Juggernaut, 670. For criticism of Goulder’s language here, both in relation to the claim that Markan priority is a ‘fact’, and also that Q is a ‘mere’ postulate, see Kloppenborg, Synoptic Problems, 48–49. Farmer, Synoptic Problem, 203: one should not hypothecate extra sources ‘until an attempt has been made to explain it [the agreement between any two gospels] on the simplest terms, namely on the hypothesis that one evangelist copied the work of the other’ (my stress); and see above on Farrer for a similar move, though not expressed in terms of ‘simplicity’. Perhaps another issue: on this see Kloppenborg, Synoptic Problems, 43–47. Goulder, Luke, 24. Ibid. Cf. too Goodacre, Goulder and the Gospels, 19: ‘simplicity reigns’. Cf. too p. 18: ‘The simplicity of the picture which Farrer paints has actually become the hallmark of Goulder’s scholarship, with its appeals to Occam’s Razor and its emphasis on economy.’

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principle, to show that Q is necessary… My hypothesis has priority of consideration and should be accepted unless it can be shown to be implausible.’56 Several of these themes recur in later British writers questioning Q. One of the most influential is recent years has been Mark Goodacre, and his Case Against Q has been widely commended as a clear, concise, as well as temperate (!), presentation of the case against the existence of Q. In the bulk of the book, there is little discussion of why he undertakes such an enterprise at all; but some indications appear in the opening chapter. Goodacre’s tone is generally far more moderate than his predecessors, but similar themes appear. The language of Q as a ‘hypothesis’, and/or ‘hypothetical’ recurs.57 He accepts that ‘hypotheses’ are not necessarily bad;58 nevertheless, he again moves (in a slightly more veiled way) to the implicit claim that a theory without Q is preferable. He refers to ‘the vital question of whether or not Q is a necessary hypothesis’ (9, my stress). The rest of his book seeks to show that Q is not ‘necessary’: one can provide explanations of Luke’s use of Matthew. This is expressed in much more moderate language than Farrer or Goulder, but still makes the same logical move: if one can explain Luke’s use of Matthew, then Q becomes unnecessary, redundant and hence to be rejected. Priority is therefore given to a theory which does not invoke Q.59 Perhaps slightly ironically, Goodacre does not explicitly appeal to a principle of not invoking extra sources as such. Indeed, he does sometimes invoke such sources – to explain some parts of Luke which he concedes are rather hard to view as derived directly from Matthew. Thus in relation to the Lord’s Prayer, he argues that Luke may have not used Matthew, but rather the oral tradition as it was known to him in his community (64–65). Similar moves to those already highlighted here are made by Francis Watson in his more recent contributions to the debate about Q’s (non-)existence.60 In his earlier article, Watson argues that different source hypotheses should be evaluated by comparing the redactional procedures postulated for the secondary evangelist(s),61 a proposal which would probably command universal consent. However, as his discussion proceeds, the argument changes slightly. Thus he claims that, if his own proposal (the FH or ‘L/M’ hypothesis) can be 56 57

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Goulder, Michael Goulder Responds, 142. ‘…forgetting its [Q’s] origin as a hypothesis, indeed a derivative hypothesis … Many books and articles on Q now fail to mention this key element in Q’s identity, dispensing with the word “hypothesis”’ (3); ‘the hypothetical nature of the document [Q]’ (8); ‘the allimportant fact that Q remains a hypothesis’ (9). ‘This is not to say that the Q theory is problematic simply because it is a hypothesis, for we all use hypotheses all the time, some of which are very good hypotheses’ (9). There is too an occasional appeal to Occam’s razor (18, 77). For more detailed discussion of Watson’s theories about the Synoptic Problem, see Tuckett, Watson. Watson, Q as Hypothesis, 399. Cf. too Farrer, On Dispensing with Q, 56, and n. 46 above.

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shown to be plausible, then this of itself would ‘undermine’ the Q theory.62 It would seem then that a ‘no Q’ theory has methodological priority over the Q theory: all other things being equal, a theory with no Q is preferable to one with Q. This seems to be, in effect, an application of the Farmer principle that theories ‘without hypothetical sources’ should be considered superior to those with such sources. Watson appeals to the history of scholarship, claiming that the Q theory only arose in the past (and perhaps then should only arise today) if/when the theory of direct dependence was ruled out as impossible (or implausible).63 In his earlier article, Watson also claims that his own theory provides a ‘straightforward’ explanation of the redactional procedures involved.64 This idea is then worked out more fully in his later monograph Gospel Writing, describing and explaining Luke’s redactional compositional procedures on the basis of Luke using Matthew. He claims here that his theory makes the ‘best sense’65 (though he gives very little actual comparison between Luke’s possible redactional procedure on his own theory as opposed to the 2DH). His argument is then primarily a presentation of how Luke proceeded on the basis of using Mark and Matthew throughout the tradition, and he claims at various points that the procedure presupposed is simple and straightforward.66 Again there is the implicit criterion that ‘simpler’ hypotheses are preferable. It would seem though that, for Watson as with Goodacre, and unlike Goulder, ‘simplicity’ is not just (or even not at all) at the level of the number of ‘hypothetical’ sources postulated to explain the origin of the tradition. Watson follows Goulder in explaining the origin of Luke’s material shared with Mark and 62 63

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Watson, Q as Hypothesis, 407. Cf. Tuckett, Watson, 118; Watson reiterates his view in Watson, Seven Theses, 139–140. (Unfortunately he totally misrepresents my point, as if I were arguing that Q must be the default position; I was arguing that, if we are to compare the two possibilities (e.g. a Q theory and the FH), we should give them equal ‘airtime’ and consider them on equal terms. He also suggests that my pressing of the question ‘why’ Luke has made the changes he has, especially in light of Watson’s own refusal at times to engage with the question beyond saying ‘it seemed good to him [Luke] to compose his gospel in his own way … Beyond that we cannot go’ [Gospel Writing, 169], as ‘a symptom of repressed insecurity’: I leave that for others to decide!) Watson, Q as Hypothesis, 414. Watson, Gospel Writing, 118 ‘A simple compositional procedure’ (215); ‘If such an experiment brings to light a simple and intelligible compositional procedure, then it may be said to have succeeded. If it becomes entangled in endless complexities and speculations, it will have failed.’ (163: Watson clearly thinks his own ‘experiment’ has succeeded; in a footnote here he refers to Goulder, whose project he claims resulted in failure because it was too complex and speculative.). ‘Luke can be shown to have followed the Matthean order: this might be traced back to Q’ and that is ‘possible. But there is no need for it, and it generates unnecessary complications’ (181). (However, Watson does not go into any detail on this to show why the Q theory provides more ‘complications’, and/or why these are ‘unnecessary’.)

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Matthew with no other source (and does not appeal, as Goodacre does, to other parallel traditions); but in order to explain the origin of Matthew’s gospel, he appeals to possible collections of sayings traditions to account for the material in Matthew.67 Thus the existence of other source(s) is denied to explain the origin of Luke, but is invoked to explain the origin of (significant parts of) Matthew. Dunn does not appeal to issues about ‘hypothetical’ sources, or whether the Q theory is ‘necessary’ or not. (Indeed Dunn is ready to accept at least some of ‘Q’, albeit a smaller Q than most would postulate.) However, he does invoke the category of ‘simplicity’. At the end of his ‘Altering the Default Setting’ article, he raises the issue of whether it would be easier to invoke Occam’s razor and appeal to an allegedly ‘simple’ 2DH.68 He responds: The answer is that the simplicity envisaged is far from simple, since it has to postulate editorial ingenuity of tremendous complexity and sophistication. Much more simple in fact is the inference that the variations within the Synoptic tradition reflect more closely the kind of variations that were common in the performance traditions of the early churches.69

Thus for Dunn, ‘simplicity’ is clearly a virtue, but what is ‘not simple’ (or ‘complex’) is a detailed process of redaction which most source hypotheses take for granted but which he would question in favour of his ‘oral hypothesis’.

4.

Questioning Q as ‘British’?

It is difficult to generalise from a diverse range of scholars who have questioned the existence of Q in recent years. In many ways, those considered here have done so in a variety of different ways, and arguably for (at times) different reasons; it may be that the only thing they have in common is that they are ‘in the UK’! Further, it is by no means the case that the arguments offered are unique to UK (or UK based) scholars. Study of the Synoptic Problem, like all NT studies, is now international in scope and it is hard to specify one particular theory, or one way of arguing, as peculiar to one national group alone. On the other hand, some common features in the argumentation considered here do appear. I have noted above the recurring appeals to what is ‘simple’ (though what exactly is ‘simple’ varies from one to another: see below) and to what is 67

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Watson, Gospel Writing, ch. 5. He does not then follow Goulder’s theories that virtually all of Matthew’s non-Markan material is due to Matthew’s creativity based on Jewish scriptures. It is slightly ironic that, whilst for others the 2DH is more ‘complex’ in invoking a Q source, Dunn here regards it as relatively ‘simple’ in terms of the number of sources postulated! Dunn, Default Setting, 173.

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‘necessary’ (or the negative argument that Q is ‘unnecessary’). Coupled with both is often the rhetoric that Q is ‘hypothetical’, usually used in a negative, pejorative way. Q is simply ‘a figment of the scholarly imagination’,70 and (by implication) never had any concrete existence. It may also be the case that other Q-sceptics from outside the UK do not argue in quite the same way. Thus in his Introduction to the volume of essays Marcan Priority without Q, John Poirier shows himself clearly in sympathy with Goulder, Goodacre and others, yet the main reasons he gives have to do with a greater appreciation of Luke as a literary writer, an appreciation of the possibility that evangelists may be reacting against their predecessors, the growing arguments that Luke is to be dated quite late etc.71 Similarly, Nicholas Perrin, in summarising reasons why Q is now being more widely questioned, refers to a greater awareness of the evangelists as ‘authors’ and the growing significance of narrative criticism.72 Arguments appealing to ‘simplicity’, what is ‘necessary’, or what is ‘hypothetical’ do not appear so much (if at all). So it may be that there is something that is characteristically (if not uniquely) British in some of the arguments considered above. How much this might relate to a British ‘psyche’, or national stereotype, is unclear (to me!). If nothing else, it is difficult for me, as a British person myself, to stand ‘outside the box’ and to be able to say what if anything might be characteristically ‘British’ in all this. The following remarks offered here are thus to be taken as merely speculative suggestions! Some of the arguments offered by British Q-sceptics do correlate with trends which might be discernible in what has appealed to British philosophers. Thus the claim that Q is ‘hypothetical’, and lacks any concrete evidence for its existence (there is no manuscript of Q, there is no explicit citation of Q by any third party) correlates in one way with philosophical movements such as empiricism and perhaps logical positivism, both of which have been very influential within British philosophy (cf. figures such as Locke, Berkeley, Hume, Russell, Ayer). Empiricism stresses the importance of sense perception as the origin of all knowledge and the lack of any tangible, ‘direct’ evidence for Q (in the form of a manuscript, or an explicit citation) is perhaps not unrelated to this:73 the theory of the existence of Q is the result of a purely deductive exercise 70 71 72

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Cf. Wright, New Testament and People of God, 438. Poirier, Introduction. Perrin, Introduction, 10. Neither Perrin nor Poirier are British (though Perrin has worked for a time in the UK as a research assistant to Tom Wright). To be fair, the same general appeal to the creativity of the evangelists (especially Luke) and narrative criticism is given by Goodacre, Case, 189, as one of the reasons affecting our assessment of the existence or otherwise of Q; and the idea of Luke as a creative writer is strongly developed in the works of Franklin, Drury and others. Cf. Farrer’s contrasting the fact that ‘Q is a hypothesis’ with the existence of a text of Luke’s gospel on a table in front of him; also his insistence that Q is ‘unevidenced’. For

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in the brain on the basis of two other texts (Matthew and Luke). So too the insistence by logical positivism of the importance of empirical verification is similar: Q’s possible existence cannot be ‘verified’ by empirical observation or other experimentation. So too the argument appealing to ‘simplicity’ finds echoes (sometimes explicit in the modern arguments about Q) of the work of William of Ockham, and the famous/infamous principle of ‘Occam’s razor’ (entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem). As noted already, the appeal to ‘simple’ may vary and shift from one writer to another. Thus for Goulder (and before him Farmer), ‘simplicity’ relates to the number of sources postulated: the 2DH has to postulate an extra source (Q) which the FH does not; hence the FH is ‘simpler’. For Watson, it is his explanation of Luke’s redaction which is ‘simple’ (by contrast with Goulder’s). For Dunn it is the oral tradition generally which is ‘simple’ by comparison with the highly ‘complex’ model of literary redaction. But clearly an appeal to what is ‘simple’ is thought to have a very high level of explanatory or rhetorical power. And in this the influence of the work of William of Ockham, whether conscious or subconscious, may be discernible. The principle of Occam’s razor is often cited in this context as extolling the ‘simple’ and not postulating further ‘entia’; and his other pithy ‘principles’ extolling preferences for the ‘simple’ over against the ‘plural’ are similar.74 More generally, it has been said of the British that they/we favour common sense and have a dislike of (unnecessary) complication. Again this correlates with a number of aspects of ‘Q-scepticism’: the dislike of ‘complication’ when an (apparently) ‘simpler’ alternative is available (if ‘no Q’ is ‘simpler’ than Q and cf. the many appeals to ‘simplicity’) and perhaps an implicit claim that not having to postulate Q reflects simple basic ‘common sense’.75

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Farrer, this seems to be more at the level of genre; but it is still clearly vitally important for him that there be some kind of concrete, empirical evidence for Q, independent of the gospels of Matthew and Luke. Cf. too the reference to the lack of ‘hard evidence’ for Q by Wright (see n. 29 above). For a similar reference to the lack of ‘hard’ evidence for Q, spelling out what ‘hard evidence’ might be, see Perrin, Introduction, 9–10: ‘What makes this swelling fascination with Q particularly unsettling is the fact that Q has never been found. We have no manuscript of Q, no attestation in the early Church Fathers that such a text ever existed. We have no hard evidence for Q at all.’ (My stress). E.g. nunquam ponenda est pluritas sine necessitate (‘plurality must never be posited without necessity’). ‘Occam’s razor’ is appealed to positively by Goulder and Goodacre, not (as far as I can see) by Watson, and slightly negatively by Dunn who still however appeals to ‘simplicity’. The same feeling of the importance of ‘common sense’ may be reflected at the level of language where there is an innate feeling by many British people that language itself should be clear and unambiguous, leading to a dislike of neologisms (felt, whether justifiably or not, to be prevalent in some American English, especially in academic circles), as well as a mistrust of what appear to be a highly esoteric use of language by French and/or German academic writing (in e.g. theology and philosophy).

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Thus while one cannot claim that the arguments developed by British scholars against Q are the sole preserve of the British,76 there are some aspects of these arguments which might correlate with other features of British society, British life, and British ways of thinking which make a position of Q-scepticism at the very least congenial within a British context.

5.

Critical reflections

By way of conclusion I offer just a few critical reflections on some of these writings and arguments – unashamedly from the side of one who is not a ‘Qsceptic’. On ‘simplicity’: the very diversity in what is actually being claimed as ‘simple’ may alert us to the possibility that an argument appealing to what is ‘simple’ is by no means clear cut. As noted already, what is ‘simple’ for some (but by no means all) is a hypothesis with a minimal number of sources. On this, at least two issues arise. First, we need to clarify what precisely we are trying to ‘explain’. What is the ‘problem’ which our source hypotheses are seeking to resolve? In one way, the answer is ‘obvious’: the problem is the Synoptic Problem, where we are trying to explain the pattern of agreements and disagreements between the three synoptic gospels. Yet the Synoptic Problem should not perhaps be seen in isolation (otherwise those studying it can rightly be accused of too narrow a vision). In a slightly broader perspective, the Synoptic Problem is part of the attempt to try to map out the problem of the origin and development of the whole body of Jesus tradition in the early years of the Christian movement.77 In this context, the 2DH goes one significant step further than the FH in its explanatory scope. For the 2DH explains not only the origin and cause of the MatthewLuke agreements in Luke (via dependence on Q) and hence the origin of the Double Tradition (DT) in Luke: it also explains the origin of this material in Matthew. The FH explains the origin of the DT material in Luke (as coming from Matthew); but it says nothing about the origin of this DT material in Matthew. Goulder famously explained this as all due to Matthew’s creativity, but few have followed him in this. And most defenders of the FH would probably argue that Matthew has made use of source materials in his non-Markan sections.78 Within 76

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As noted throughout, many of the arguments by UK scholars have significant parallels in the work of Farmer and others. As, to his credit, is done by Watson in his monograph; also (though slightly more idiosyncratically) by Goulder. Though only Watson explicitly discusses the issue. E.g. Goodacre does not go into the origin of the material in Matthew at all: at the end of his book he simply notes that the FH

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this broader perspective, Goulder’s theories might still count as ‘simple’ in terms of the number of sources postulated; but he would probably have few supporters in this. Thus a ‘simple’ solution to the Synoptic Problem narrowly conceived (i.e. only considering the inter-gospel relationships) might well have to be made more ‘complex’ when broadening the perspective to explain not only the agreements and disagreements between the gospels but also the origin of the materials used. Since the 2DH does this, at least in part, and hence explains a (slightly) broader set of questions than the FH, it is by no means clear that the FH is more ‘simple’, even at the level of the number of sources postulated.79 Second, can we assume that ‘simpler’ is always better, or more preferable in terms of possible historical explanations? The mantra ‘life is not simple’ is trite, but by no means clearly false! John Kloppenborg has pointed out on several occasions that virtually all our source hypotheses (in relation to the Synoptic Problem) are inevitably simplifications of what was almost certainly a far more complex situation originally.80 Most of the standard solutions to the Synoptic Problem, in positing that Matthew and Luke used Mark, presume that Matthew and Luke used the same text of Mark. It is surely stretching credulity to breaking point to assume that Matthew and Luke used the same manuscript of Mark; and in the days before printing when all manuscripts were written by hand, it is inevitable that there would have been differences between any manuscript of Mark available to Matthew and one available to Luke. Yet the theory of Matthew and Luke using the same version of Mark provides a simpler picture we can work with. Even ‘the’ text of each gospel which we seek to explain represents the endresult of a modern critical analysis which no text-critic today would dare to suggest gives us ‘the’ original text of any of the gospels. At the most, we can say that our ‘solutions’ to the Synoptic Problem represent at best approximations to what was probably a far more complex situation originally. It is then not clear why one solution should provide us with a better approximation to the more complex situation which we are seeking to explain solely by being more ‘simple’ at one level. Third, we need to recognise that, even if we restrict attention to the relationships between the gospels, a solution which is ‘simple’ at the level of not involving other sources (i.e. no Q) may involve a far more complex explanation of the data at another level. In relation to Goulder’s theories about the origins of

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‘generates interesting questions about … the non-Markan material in Matthew’ (Goodacre, Case, 189). Farrer himself referred to Matthew using ‘oral material’ and ‘standing in the stream of a living oral tradition’ (On Dispensing with Q, 85): thus whilst rejecting the view that Matthew used written sources other than Mark, Farrer did not go as far as Goulder in attributing all Matthew’s non-Markan material to Matthew’s creativity. Hence appeals to Occam’s razor may be misleading. One source theory might not postulate many ‘entia’ at one point, but have to postulate further ‘entia’ at another point. See e.g. Kloppenborg, Excavating Q, 50–54.

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Luke, Gerald Downing published an important critique showing that, although Goulder’s solution was simple in terms of the number of sources postulated, it posited a redactional procedure on the part of Luke which was extremely complex in terms of what it envisaged Luke having done (e.g. reading a scroll in a text backwards with no markers in the text to indicate where a pericope might have started) and quite unlike what other Greco-Roman writers of the time did when using sources.81 Thus Goulder’s theory is ‘simple’ at one level but highly complex (and historically implausible) at another.82 It was perhaps with this critique in mind that Watson changed the parameters of the discussion somewhat in appealing to his explanation of Luke’s redactional procedure as ‘simple’, in explicit contrast to the complex procedure which Goulder had argued for.83 Whether Watson’s Luke is any less complex is at least debatable. I have argued elsewhere that Watson effectively restricts attention to the opening parts of Matthew’s gospel. In relation to this material, he does produce a suggested pattern of redactional activity which at one level makes for a coherent and consistent pattern of activity: Luke identifies materials in Matthew in their Markan context which he decides (for unspecified reasons!) to move ahead and use later.84 However, this does not work in relation to Matthean material in the later Markan contexts (e.g. Matt 24–25) where Luke must have known in advance what he would omit there and transferred the material to an earlier position.85 Whether Watson’s explanation is any ‘simpler’ is unclear and any decision is clearly somewhat subjective. Even more is this the case with Dunn who claims that his ‘oral hypothesis’ is ‘simpler’ than a model of literary redaction (see above). In fact it can be argued that the 2DH provides a relatively ‘simple’ solution in explaining the texts of Matthew and Luke.86 The general picture of the redactional activity of Luke, and Matthew, in using Q (and Mark) has been thought by many to provide a reasonably coherent, and consistent, picture which fits the individual parallels as well as meshing in well with the finished products of each gospel as a whole;87 and the number of sources postulated remains relatively ‘economical’.88 Yet the coherence, and/or simplicity, of the overall theory has to 81 82 83

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Downing, Paradigm Perplex. Hence again an appeal to Occam’s razor is perhaps irrelevant, or inappropriate. See above (though Watson does not mention Downing in this context or indeed elsewhere in his book). Watson, Q as Hypothesis, 413, explicitly refers to this forward movement (Luke identifying Matthean material which he will use later) as key to the plausibility of his explanation. See Tuckett, Watson, 131–133. Thus the key part of the explanation (the later use of nonMarkan material by Luke) is not sustained consistently. In this I am happy then to concur with a ‘British’ preference for ‘simplicity’! There is clearly not enough space here to defend this general claim in any detail. Hence unlike the situation in the theory of those such as Boismard where the number of earlier sources postulated is multiplied very considerably.

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cover not only the numerical number of sources, but also a consideration of the redactional activity of the secondary evangelist(s). On ‘necessity’ and the issue of whether Q is a ‘necessary’ hypothesis, the significance of the implicit claim that it is not is also one which is very questionable. Such language is redolent of mathematical logic and rigour. In mathematics, a ‘necessary’ theory/theorem is one that can be rigorously deduced and ‘proved’ from the initial premises and/or data. Thus it is a ‘necessary’ conclusion from fundamental principles about numbers and the relevant definitions concerned, that the number π is irrational, and this can be shown by means of a strict mathematical proof. Such rigour is however simply impossible in the case of the Synoptic Problem. No one can show that Q is a ‘necessary’ hypothesis; but then equally no one can show that any other theory is ‘necessary’ either. The theory of Lukan dependence on Matthew is not a ‘necessary’ hypothesis in any mathematical sense either: and it too is a ‘hypothesis’ (see below). Hence rhetorical flourishes, asking whether Q is a ‘necessary hypothesis’ (see e.g. on Goulder and Goodacre above) have little force. One could (and perhaps should) equally ask whether the FH is a ‘necessary hypothesis’. Of course Q is not a necessary hypothesis; but neither is any alternative hypothesis (e.g. the FH).89 The denial that Q is a ‘necessary’ hypothesis is used by a number of Qsceptics to justify the move that then almost any explanation of Luke’s procedure without invoking Q should be accepted as an indication that Q did not exist. Underlying this logical move seems to be the assumption that solutions to the Synoptic Problem which do not involve extra sources being posited, and which postulate only direct use of one gospel by another, are preferable to those which do. Such an assumption is again highly questionable. Appeals to the history of research, arguing that the Q theory only arose when it was deemed that direct use of Matthew by Luke was improbable (or even impossible),90 are misguided. Such a way of arguing has never probably taken place (as if one argues in a total vacuum that a theory of Luke using Matthew is implausible or impossible: one surely argues that such a theory is less plausible than an alternative.) Much more sensible is the methodology proposed in his early article by Watson, viz. that one should compare the redactional activity of (a) secondary evangelist(s) on competing source hypotheses and come to some assessment of which hypothesis produces the most plausible, coherent, and convincing overall picture.91 What finally of the oft-repeated rhetoric that Q is a ‘hypothetical’ source? The language is perhaps slightly ambiguous, as the English word ‘hypothetical’ 89

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The negative assertion (that Q is not a ‘necessary’ hypothesis) is implicitly a way of trying to place any defender of Q in an impossible no-win situation: if one has to show that one’s hypothesis is ‘necessary’, then this cannot be done by advocates of any hypothesis. Cf. above on Watson. See above.

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can be, and is, used with a range of different nuances. On its own, it means ‘connected with a hypothesis’. Yet the word is also sometimes used (in more everyday speech) to refer to something that is so unlikely to happen as to be ruled as effectively impossible in real life.92 Hence some, at times highly pejorative, references to Q as a ‘hypothetical’ source. One can accept the term provided one relates it simply to the fact that Q is part of a ‘hypothesis’, viz. that Matthew and Luke did not know each other but relied on a common source. Q is thus indeed ‘hypothetical’; but this is no more and no less ‘hypothetical’ than the hypothesis that Luke used Matthew.93 Proposed solutions to the Synoptic Problem are all in the form of hypotheses. The issue is not which is hypothetical: the issue is rather which hypothesis makes better sense of the data than possible competing hypotheses. At the end of the day, we cannot solve the Synoptic Problem with mathematical certainty; we cannot ‘prove’ the existence of Q in the way that one can ‘prove’ that the number of prime numbers is infinite. All we can do is to acknowledge that many potential solutions to the Synoptic Problem are possible; but perhaps some are more probable than others.94

Bibliography Butler, B. C., The Originality of St. Matthew: A Critique of the Two-Document Hypothesis, Cambridge 1951. Catchpole, D. R., The Quest for Q, Edinburgh 1993. Chapman, J., Matthew, Mark and Luke: A Study in the Order and Interrelation of the Synoptic Gospels, London 1937. Downing, F. G., Towards the Rehabilitation of Q, in: NTS 11 (1965), 169–181. Downing, F. G., Compositional Conventions and the Synoptic Problem, in: JBL 107 (1988), 69–85. Downing, F. G., Cynics and Christian Origins, Edinburgh 1992. Downing, F. G., A Paradigm Perplex: Luke, Matthew and Mark, in: NTS 38 (1992), 15–36. Drury, J., Tradition and Design in Luke's Gospel, London 1976.

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One might say that it is a ‘hypothetical possibility’ that England will beat Germany in an official international football match 37–0: what is meant is that such an event is regarded as (and almost certainly is!) de facto impossible (though the laws of physics would not need to be broken for it to happen!). See Kloppenborg, Synoptic Problems, 67, on Farrer, noted above. See too Kloppenborg, Conceptual Stakes, 21–22: ‘It is best to avoid such terms as “disproved” or “discredited” in relation to any synoptic hypothesis. Such terms are at best rhetorical, attempting to manufacture unearned credibility for one’s own hypothesis, and at most simply fallacious. Given the nature of synoptic data, we are not in the realm where “proofs” and “disproofs” are possible. General plausibility is all that can be expected.’

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Dunn, J. D. G., Altering the Default Setting: Re-envisaging the Early Transmission of the Jesus Tradition, in: NTS 49 (2003), 139–175. Dunn, J. D. G., Q1 as Oral Tradition, in: M. Bockmuehl/D. A. Hagner (ed.), The Written Gospel., Cambridge 2005, 45–69. Farmer, W. R., The Synoptic Problem: A Critical Appraisal, New York 1964. Farrer, A., On Dispensing with Q, in: D. E. Nineham (ed.), Studies in the Gospels in Memory of R.H. Lightfoot, Oxford 1957, 57–88. Foster, P., The Pastoral Purpose of Q's two-stage son of man Christology, in: Biblica 89 (2008) 81–91. Foster, P., Is Q a 'Jewish-Christian' Document?, in: Biblica 94 (2013) 367–394. Goodacre, M., Goulder and the Gospels. An Examination of a New Paradigm (JSNTSup 133), Sheffield 1996. Goodacre, M., The Case against Q: Studies in Markan Priority and the Synoptic Problem, Harrisburg, PA 2002. Goulder, M. D., Midrash and Lection in Matthew, London 1974. Goulder, M. D., Luke: A New Paradigm (JSNTSup 20), Sheffield 1989. Goulder, M. D., Is Q a Juggernaut?, in: JBL 115 (1996) 667–681. Goulder, M. D., Michael Goulder Responds, in: C. A. Rollston (ed.), The Gospels according to Michael Goulder, Harrisburg PA 2002. Harnack, A. v., The Sayings of Jesus, London 1908. Jameson, H. G., The Origin of the Synoptic Gospels, Oxford 1922. Kloppenborg, J. S., The Formation of Q, Philadelphia 1987. Kloppenborg, J. S., Excavating Q. The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel, Edinburgh 2000. Kloppenborg, J. S., Synoptic Problems. Collected Essays, Tübingen 2014. Kloppenborg, J. S., Conceptual Stakes in the Synoptic Problem, in: M. Müller/H. Omerzu (ed.), Gospel Interpretation and the Q Hypothesis (LNTS 573), London 2018, 13–42. Lummis, E. W., How Luke was Written, Cambridge 1915. Manson, T. W., The Sayings of Jesus, London 1949. Orchard, B., Matthew, Luke & Mark, Bury 1976. Perrin, N., Introduction: Reasons for Questioning Q, in: M. Goodacre/N. Perrin (ed.), Questioning Q. A Multidimensional Critique, Downers Grove IL 2004, 1–12. Piper, R. A., Wisdom in the Q-Tradition. The aphoristic teaching of Jesus, Cambridge 1989. Piper, R. A., In Quest of Q: The Direction of Q Studies, in: R. A. Piper (ed.), The Gospel Behind the Gospels. Current Studies on Q (SuppNovT 75), Leiden 1995, 1–18. Poirier, J. C., Introduction: Why the Farrer Hypothesis? Why Now?, in: J. C. Poirier/J. Peterson (ed.), Markan Priority without Q. Explorations in the Farrer Hypothesis (LNTS 455), London 2015, 1– 15. Riley, H., The Making of Mark, Macon 1989. Sanday, W. (ed.), Oxford Studies in the Synoptic Problem, Oxford 1911. Sanders, E. P. and Davies, M., Studying the Synoptic Gospels, London 1981. Schweitzer, A., The Quest of the Historical Jesus, ET London 1910; German original 1906. Streeter, B. H., The Four Gospels. A Study of Origins, London 1924. Tödt, H. E., The Son of Man in the Synoptic Tradition, London 1965. Tuckett, C. M., Q and the History of Early Christianity, Edinburgh 1996. Tuckett, C. M., Watson, Q and L/M, in: M. Müller/H. Omerzu (ed.), Gospel Interpretation and the Q Hypothesis (LNTS 573), London 2018, 115–138. Tuckett, C. M., Theological Issues at stake in early 20th century research on the Synoptic Problem, in: J. S. Kloppenborg/J. Verheyden (ed.), Theological and Theoretical Issues in the Synoptic Problem (LNTS 618), London 2020, 1-18. Watson, F. B., Q as Hypothesis: A Study in Methodology, in: NTS 55 (2009), 397–415. Watson, F. B., Gospel Writing. A Canonical Perspective, Grand Rapids 2013.

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Watson, F. B., Seven Theses on the Synoptic Problem, in disagreement with Christopher Tuckett, in: M. Müller/H. Omerzu (ed.), Gospel Interpretation and the Q Hypothesis (LNTS 573), London 2018, 139–147. Wrede, W., The Messianic Secret, ET London 1971. Wright, N. T., The New Testament and the People of God, London 1992.

The Rise and Development of the Farrer Hypothesis Paul Foster

1.

Introduction

During the period from the 1960s until the 1990s it is fair to say that the major rival alternative to the widely accepted two-source theory was the Griesbach hypothesis, or perhaps more correctly the neo-Griesbach hypothesis. In no small part, due to the indefatigable stream of publications and presentations from W.R. Farmer and his energetic band of supporters,1 the neo-Griesbach hypothesis gained a prominence which was probably disproportionate to its numerical support. The basic tenet of this theory was that the Gospel of Mark was the last of the three synoptic gospels to be composed, and that it was the result of the conflation of the Matthean and Lukan accounts. In the contemporary period support for this theory appears to have quite literally ‘died out’. With the deaths of the major proponents of this theory of synoptic relationships, and the failure of this hypothesis to have attracted new defenders, there appears to be few if any advocates for this solution. Moreover, no significant publications in support of the neo-Griesbach hypothesis have appeared during the last couple of decades. This demise of the neo-Griesbach hypothesis has not, however, resulted in an upsurge of support for the two-source theory. The decrease in support for Farmer’s ideas has coincided with a notable increase in support for the Farrer hypothesis (FH), or, as some prefer, the Mark without Q theory (MwQ). The primary figure associated with this synoptic solution, Austin Farrer, presented his major statement in defence of the basic claims of the theory prior to Farmer’s work on the neo-Griesbach hypothesis.2 Its two basic tenets are the defence of Markan priority, and in place of the Q hypothesis the claim that Luke made direct use of the Gospel of Matthew as a source for the material that is shared uniquely by Matthew and Luke (the so-called double tradition material). Farrer’s work attracted some limited support in the period from the 1950s to the 1980s. However, growth in support became more widespread from the 1990s onwards, to the extent that it might now be correctly seen as the current major rival pro1 2

Perhaps Farmer’s most influential publication on the topic was Farmer, Synoptic Problem. See Farrer, Dispensing, 55–88.

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posal to the two-source theory, which still remains the most widely accepted and preferred solution to the synoptic problem. In this discussion, the development and emergence of the Farrer hypothesis will be traced from its antecedents to the current form of this synoptic solution theory. An attempt will also be made to account for this rise in popularity of the variant forms of this hypothesis, and an assessment will be made of its impact on synoptic gospels scholarship and possible future trajectories in the discussion surrounding the Farrer hypothesis.

2.

Luke’s Dependence on Matthew Prior to Farrer

The case for Markan priority had been a protracted and long fought battle. However, by the late nineteenth century such a view was largely accepted, even if sometimes in the form of an ur-Markus or deutero-Markus variant.3 Before this acceptance of Markan priority, it was common for scholars to assert the priority of Matthew, and consequently the first gospel was viewed as a source for each of Mark and Luke in both the Augustinian and Griesbach proposals for the solution of the synoptic problem. After the general acceptance of Mark as the earliest of the synoptic gospels, it became less common for scholars to assert the dependence of Luke upon Matthew. The first attempt in the post-Markan priority era to maintain a commitment to some level of the use of Matthew by Luke was articulated by Holtzmann. His synoptic theory required a subsidiary hypothesis to handle the shared narrative elements found in double tradition. This was due to the fact that his view of the generic purity of his Λ source as an exclusively sayings source, meant that he could not attribute such narrative material to such a source.4 This subsidiary hypothesis was the postulate that Luke in some sense depended upon Matthew. This idea was formulated alongside, and not to the exclusion of the hypothesis of the Λ source. Thus, Holtzmann states that, ‘die Berücksichtigung des Mt bei Lk [ist] keine systematische und planvoll.’5 However, it was probably the case that Holtzmann came to this understanding earlier in 1880s, under the influence of his student Eduard Simons. In fact it was Simons who first advanced the idea of Luke’s minimal knowledge of Matthew as 3 4

5

Foster, Rise, forthcoming. The Λ sayings source largely overlapped with Q material. However, Holtzmann wished to reconstruct a source of a pure sayings genre, and hence excluded narrative elements such as the temptation story and the story of the centurion. Since this material could not be attributed to the Λ sayings source, another explanation was required to explain the source of such common double tradition materials. Holtzmann, Lehrbuch, 364.

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a means of explaining shared double tradition narrative elements.6 Thus, Simons may be seen as the originator of the three source theory, where Luke uses three earlier documents to compose his gospel. In order of diminishing contribution of volume of material, these are Mark, Λ (or some form of Q), and Matthew. From the perspective of this theory Luke was literarily dependent on the Gospel of Matthew. However, the postulate of dependence upon this third source, the Gospel of Matthew, was viewed as a subsidiary idea, and the composition of the Gospel of Luke was seen as largely being explained on the basis of its dependence on its two major sources. Typically, therefore, Luke’s dependence on Matthew was only seen as necessary when it was felt that shared double tradition material could not be attributed to the sayings source. The reasons for not attributing some double tradition material to the sayings source were varied, but perhaps the most prominent reason, whether stated or left unstated, was a desire to preserve the generic purity of the sayings source as a document composed exclusively of sayings or parables of Jesus – and thus free from narrative elements.

2.1.

Edward Lummis

In contrast to this minimal or subsidiary dependence on the Gospel of Matthew as part of a theory that was to help Markan priority, Edward Lummis saw Luke as dependent on the first gospel in a more thoroughgoing manner.7 His monograph was the first to argue in a thoroughgoing manner in the period of general acceptance of Markan priority, that one could hold to the priority of Mark but explain the shared double tradition material common to Matthew and Luke on the basis of Luke’s knowledge and use of Matthew without reference to a sayings source such as Q. Lummis’ argument is developed over four chapters, which seek to establish in cumulative fashion the greater plausibility of Luke’s direct use of Matthew, rather than positing the common use of the Q source. The first chapter looks at the ordering of the double tradition material in Matthew and Luke. Here Lummis reacts against the claims of various scholars who see the lack of agreement in the order of double tradition material as evidence that this material derived from a common source, rather than being due to the literary use of the text of one evangelist by another. Lummis interacts with the statement of the issue provided by Wright. Discussing the phenomenon of the lack of a common order as Wright sees it, he states, both he [Luke] and S. Matthew received the Logia of which these sections are composed, in a state of chaos, their disiecta membra being widely scattered over the Source. The two 6 7

Simons, Evangelist. Lummis, Luke.

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Evangelists then collected together such Sayings as obviously dealt with the same subject and finally arranged them, each according to his own notions of what was best.8

In response, Lummis presents detailed and compelling evidence that in large part Matthew and Luke share a broadly common order in regard to the double tradition material. Lummis takes Matthew’s sequence as the base for comparison. He then identifies three series of double tradition material, which although intertwined, when treated separately largely preserve a sequential order. These three series contain 170 verses of the total 215 verses attributed to double tradition material. Lummis notes the following numerical agreement: The number of verses which in the three series follow the exact Matthean order is 144, or two-thirds of the whole. The total number of verses in the three series is 170, which stands to 215 as 17 to 21 .9

According to Lummis, when he wrote this section of his argument, Harnack’s The Sayings of Jesus had not yet appeared.10 As he states, ‘[m]y own analysis of Logion matter, in respect of order, was completed in 1907, before I saw Harnack’s Sprüche.’11 This is significant because the argument of the first chapter responds to the misguided claim that variation in the ordering of the logion material in Matthew and Luke provided evidence for the existence of the Q source as a disconnected collection of sayings of Jesus. Harnack shows that the sayings do in fact share a significantly common order in Matthew and Luke, albeit that the sayings are placed in different contexts. However, Harnack appreciates that this is not evidence against Q, but evidence in favour of a common source that has been integrated independently by Matthew and Luke in their respective narratives. This means that while many of Lummis’ arguments and observations in favour of the common ordering of the logion material in Matthew and Luke certainly hold, this fact does not undermine the existence of the second source. Therefore, Lummis in effect is critiquing a false argument, or a misguided understanding concerning what the common ordering of logion material actually illustrates. Lummis’ second chapter addresses what is a key issue for the plausibility of his synoptic theory that holds to Markan priority, but argues that Luke obtained the double tradition material from the Gospel of Matthew. That key issue is accounting for what Lummis calls ‘the disposition of Matthaean matter in Luke.’12 The use of either of the terms ‘placement’ or ‘arrangement’, instead of ‘disposition’ might make the purpose of this second chapter more comprehensible. Following on from the conclusion of the first chapter, Lummis states, ‘[a]lthough the two or three Matthaean series in Lk. point very clearly, as 8 9 10 11 12

Wright, Synopsis. Lummis, Luke, 10. Harnack, Sprüche und Reden. Eng. trans. The Sayings of Jesus. Lummis, Luke, 16. Lummis, Luke, 34.

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we have seen, to canonical Mt. as a direct source of the Logia in Lk., they do not of themselves reveal Lk.’s principles of arrangement.’13 However, there appears to be a vital step missing in Lummis’ argument between arguing for a common order of the logia recognised in three sequences of Matthean material in Luke, and the concern of chapter two to explain Luke’s placement of the double tradition material. This issue involves the process for Luke’s selection of the non-Markan material from canonical Matthew, as Lummis labels it. Presumably, on Lummis’ theory, the formation of these three sequences implies that Luke went through Matthew on at least three occasions. If one considers the mechanics of this process, then Luke presumably had a copy of each of Mark and Matthew to hand to make a comparison in order to identify the non-Markan material in Matthew’s gospel. Additionally, he would have needed a further piece of papyrus on which to record in order the non-Markan material drawn from Matthew’s Gospel. Moreover, each of the three times Luke read through Matthew one may ask whether Luke crossed out the non-Markan material extracted from Matthew, in order to avoid repetition.14 Yet alongside this, one must enquire why Luke neglected to copy-out various traditions found in Matthew but not occurring in Mark. Perhaps Luke did have an alternative infancy narrative, or did not like the form of Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount, and maybe wanted to tell the story of the Passion and resurrection in his own way. However, it is more difficult to account for Luke’s supposed neglect of various unique Matthean parables such as the hidden treasure (Matt 13.44), the pearl of great price (Matt 13.45–46), the dragnet (Matt 13.47–50), unforgiving servant (Matt 18.23–35), the workers in the vineyard (Matt 20.1–6), the two sons (Matt 21.28–32), the ten virgins (Matt 25.1–13), the sheep and the goats (Matt 25.31–46). The neglect of this material is difficult to understand, especially given that Luke has been seen as being a collector of parables. Admittedly a number of these parables, though certainly not all, are eschatological in nature. However, Luke is not adverse to eschatological material, and on Lummis’ understanding the third evangelist would have drawn much of the Lukan eschatological discourse from Matthean material (cf. Matt 24.26–41//Lk 17.23–37). Therefore, a dislike of eschatological perspectives would not account for Luke’s neglect of several of the Matthean parables. So in the end, Luke’s supposed selection of non-Markan material in Matthew appears somewhat random, it involves a complex reading strategy and necessitates compiling three separate sequences of material, and moreover, there is no surviving evidence for Greek manuscripts being crossed-out as material was gleaned from them in the manner most-likely

13 14

Lummis, Luke, 34. There are fewer doublets in Luke in comparison with Matthew, so one must envisage a careful redactor ensuring that he would minimise repetition. For a discussion of the Matthean doublets see Foster, Doublets.

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required by Lummis’ proposal. Therefore, the implied selection process that would be required appears implausible at every turn. In order to account for the Lukan placement of material, Lummis invokes what he labels as ‘the καθεξῆς principle’ employed by Luke (cf. Lk 1.3). This is understood as a process that produces tighter connections between the nonMarkan material drawn from Matthew when it is repositioned in the sequence created in the Gospel of Luke. Thus Lummis argues that the third evangelist specifically looked for opportunities to create ‘a rational sequence.’ If some common idea can be detected in a number of neighbouring passages, it can be utilised by setting these passages together, by emphasising the common thought through slight changes of phraseology, by adding an occasional cementing touch and by omitting what is plainly uncomfortable. In other cases a kind of continuity may be attained which is content to proceed link by link: each passage follows not unnaturally upon its predecessor, but no ruling intention can be traced through the whole.15

Here it appears to be the case that such rational sequencing is in the eye of the beholder. It is difficult to justify the supposition that Matthew’s ordering is overall any less plausible than that of Luke. However, the substantive challenge for Lummis is not the question of which evangelist preserves the better placement and sequencing of the double tradition material. Instead, the unanswered difficulty is that of accounting for the technique that Luke would have employed to extract the double tradition from Matthew’s Gospel, especially given that a significant proportion of that material had already been tightly embedded within Markan material in the Matthean narrative. The final two chapters concern Lukan compositional techniques. Chapter three is entitled ‘The Composition of Lukem (up to the Great Omission)’ and the fourth chapter ‘The Insertion of Luke’s Peculiar Material at the Revision.’ The fourth chapter is of little concern here since it relates to a subsidiary thesis advanced by Lummis. He argues that whereas his siglum Lukem refers to the original edition of Luke’s Gospel consisting of the Matthean (double tradition) and Markan material in Luke,16 there was also a second edition of Luke’s Gospel that emerged after ‘a considerable period of time intervened between the first composition of Lk.’s gospel and the revision … [when] large portions of Lk.’s peculiar material were for the first time inserted.’17 Thus, the final brief chapter basically reasserts that much of the Lukan Sondergut material was added at this later stage, and more significantly for his overarching theory that at this stage some of the dislocations or transferences from the Markan sequence were introduced.18 This

15 16 17 18

Lummis, Luke, 39. Lummis, Luke, 43. Lummis, Luke, 41. Lummis, Luke, 112–113.

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theory stands in noticeable opposition to the ideas concerning proto-Luke that were coming to prominence at the same time.19 In the third chapter, Lummis discusses the compositional techniques of Luke and the qualities and weaknesses of Mark and Matthew as authors. It is worth citing the opening comments in full, since they reveal much about the reasoning behind Lummis’ ideas. First in regard to Luke, Lummis states, He wishes, in all his studies and exercises, to be consecutive, comprehensive and exact. He was, at the time when he began Lk.m, probably a young man, of some literary culture, careful and a little self-conscious in his choice of language, one who weighed forms of expression, weeded and enlarged his vocabulary, was eager to learn, and anxious not to learn amiss.20

Here one is struck by the confidence of this reconstruction. It is also noticeable that no evidence is provided to substantiate these claims. There is also a justifyable suspicion that, although maybe unconsciously, there is a degree of autobiographical self-projection being carried out in relation to the characterisation of Luke. Accompanying this description of Luke’s biographical background is a fuller description of his attitude and relationship to Matthew and Mark. The two rolls on which he [Luke] was working were probably regarded by him as two variants of the same book: but he seems to have regarded Mark as the better authority for fact and chronology, perhaps because he knew it to be the earlier of the two. On the other hand he would soon discover that Mk, though an honest witness, is an uncouth writer; Mt. has the more polished pen. In some little points of idiom Lk., like other young writers, is punctilious but not quite easy. Though even Mt. falls short of Lk.’s own intended level of narrative Greek, he may often give a useful hint how to paraphrase one of Mk’s barbarisms. Lk.’s aim is to embody in his writing all that is precious in Mk and Mt., so far as it is fit to be offered to the larger, more critical, Hellenic world to which he himself belongs.21

Here it is striking that much is assumed, little is justified, and generalised inferences are drawn based upon the age, psychological dispositions and composition abilities of the three synoptic evangelists. This type of reasoning is at the best suggestive, but it completely falls short of any measure of objectivity. In the end, Lummis is indeed to be credited with offering the first detailed defence of the synoptic theory that Mark was the first synoptic gospel to be composed, and then in turn Matthew used Mark as a source, and finally Luke made direct use of both of these predecessor texts. That Lummis receives so little credit for being the originator of this theory is probably due to two factors. First, there were few adherents to this theory over the next four decades. Second, that his arguments are at times complex and convoluted, and hence do not command ready assent. 19

20 21

For classic treatments of the Proto-Luke theory see Streeter, Four Gospels, esp. 199–222; Taylor, Third Gospel. For more recent scholarly overviews of the emergence of the theory see Verheyden, Proto-Luke; and Foster, Minor Sources. Lummis, Luke, 51. Lummis, Luke, 51–52.

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2.2.

93

H.G. Jameson

Several more recent scholars have claimed Jameson as an early example of a scholar who advocated a position similar to that of Austin Farrer, but prior to the writing of Farrer’s influential essay. For instance, Drury groups Lummis and Jameson together: when he comments on the idea that Luke used Matthew, he states ‘[t]his possibility was explored by Jameson and Lummis.’22 It is true that Jameson’s synoptic theory did not require a Q document – he stated ‘Q may be left out of the discussion.’23 This, however, did not arise in combination with support of Markan priority, but in conjunction with his larger theory of the priority of Matthew. He states his overall theory in the following terms: It is evident, however, that if there is no reason to suppose the existence of such a document as Q, the value of the consensus of ancient testimony in favour of Matthew’s priority becomes very great indeed. It appears certain that St. Matthew wrote something at an earlier date than St. Mark, and, if there is no reason to think that Q ever existed, that something must probably have been the First Gospel.24

Ultimately, Jameson advocates an Augustinian type of solution to the synoptic problem. Matthew writing first, then Mark next dependent on Matthew, and lastly Luke combining material from the two predecessor gospels. In this final aspect the Farrer hypothesis resembles the Augustinian solution, but the two theories are markedly different in regard to the position they take on which gospel was the first to have been composed. Therefore, it is somewhat misleading to invoke Jameson as a prototype for the Farrer hypothesis. On this basis, one might as well claim Augustine himself as a Farrer theorist.

2.3.

James Hardy Ropes

One of the few scholars to advocate a position similar to Lummis in the forty years subsequent to the publication of that author’s work was James Hardy Ropes. In his slim volume on the synoptic gospels, which is a set of posthumously published lectures, there are no footnotes, bibliography, or reference to the works of other scholars. It is, therefore, not possible to determine whether Ropes arrived at his conviction independently, or whether he was dependent on Lummis. In regard to the idea of a second common source behind Matthew and Luke, Ropes states, the theory of the “Logia” or “Q” – has tended to be modified, refined, and complicated to such a degree as, for that reason as if for no other, to arouse doubts of its validity. There is a simpler, competing possibility, namely that Luke drew these sayings from our Gospel 22 23 24

Drury, Tradition, 120. Jameson, Origin, 94. Jameson, Origin, 97.

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Paul Foster of Matthew, which has never been shown to be impossible. If this could be made a probability, the hypothesis of “Q” would lose at least its main ground of support.25

Ropes also mentions this same idea in his chapter on the Gospel of Luke, where he makes the identical point.26 However, there is no detailed argument for this position. Therefore, all it is possible to do is to note that Ropes advocated a version of the synoptic theory that held to Markan priority in conjunction with the idea that Luke drew directly upon on Matthew as well as Mark. Ropes provides no argumentation in support of the idea that Matthew could have drawn on Luke. His one comment that might provide some insight into his thinking is the following statement: ‘Matthew, as can be observed by anyone, has combined this material [double tradition] of Jesus’ sayings into his large unified discourses and blocks of connected paragraphs. Luke has it distributed in smaller portions, mainly in two long sections of his gospel.’27 The unstated implication that Ropes might be presenting is the idea that it would be easier for Luke to quarry this material from Matthew, than for Matthew to extract the material from Luke. If this is the correct reading of Ropes’ statement, then one can only note in response that the contemporary majority position is that the double tradition material is more scattered and integrated into Matthew’s Gospel than it is in Luke. It is striking that Ropes fails to recognise this. The works of Lummis and Ropes had little impact in the first half of the twentieth century. Perhaps, in part, this was due to the rise in interest in formcritical approaches and the resultant lack of interest devoted to matters of source criticism. Furthermore, the scholarly consensus had settled on the classic formulations of the two source theory. So the investigations of Lummis and Ropes generated little discussion in relation to the questions surrounding the literary relationship between the synoptic gospels.

3.

On Dispensing with Q

Austin Farrer opened his influential essay with the dual questions ‘[w]hy dig up solid foundations, why open questions long taken for settled?’28 This essay is virtually devoid of footnotes, and with the exceptions of Streeter, Harnack, Loisy and Kirkpatrick, there are few references to the works of other scholars. The advocacy by Lummis and later by Ropes of the same theory that Farrer is proposing in his essay is not acknowledged. That fact, coupled with the opening statement, at least gives the impression that Farrer presents his discussion as a 25 26 27 28

Ropes, Synoptic Gospels, 93. Ropes, Synoptic Gospels, 67. Ropes, Synoptic Gospels, 67. Farrer, Dispensing, here 55.

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first attempt to displace Q by arguing for Luke’s direct knowledge and use of the Gospel of Matthew. If that is correct, then the views of Lummis and Ropes had indeed fallen into near oblivion in the forty year period since 1915, the date when Lummis’ monograph was published. While there are several meaningful issues raised in this essay, one is also struck by the rhetorical flourishes that are employed to problematise the Q hypothesis. Time and again Farrer attacks the two source theory on one basis, namely that Q no longer exists. He states, ‘[t]he Q hypothesis is a hypothesis, that is its weakness.’29 However, Luke’s use of Matthew is equally a hypothesis. While there might be qualitative differences between the hypotheses due to the survival of Matthew in comparison to the non-extant nature of the putative Q source, both theories are hypotheses in need of proof based on the close analysis of the synoptic data. Perhaps the main repeated argument that is presented is that of the supposed form of Q being unevidenced among surviving contemporary documents. Thus Farrer states, ‘in postulating Q we are postulating the unique, and that is to commit a prima facie offence against the principle of economy in explanation.’30 This occurs as a refrain, ‘there is no independent evidence like Q. To postulate Q is to postulate the unevidenced and the unique.’31 Then a few lines later, ‘[w]e have no evidence that the primitive Christians ever put together a Q or anything like it.’32 Three pages later Farrer states that the ‘postulation of unevidenced writing of an indeterminable sort is a hazardous proceeding.’33 There is also a reductionistic approach adopted in the argument, whereby Farrer asserts that the Q hypothesis is destroyed if one can demonstrate no more than the possibility that Luke read Matthew. The Q hypothesis is not, of itself, a probable hypothesis. It is simply the sole alternative to the supposition that St. Luke had read St. Matthew (or vice versa). It needs no refutation except that its alternative is possible. It hangs on a single thread; cut that, and it falls by its own weight.34

Here there is little genuine consideration of the actual synoptic data. Rather, visual images of an entity suspended from a thread are used to dismiss the hypothesis without consideration of the evidence. Others have not found the mere possibility of Luke’s reading of Matthew a sufficient basis on which to reject the existence of Q. Alternatively, other type of sayings collection are wellknown. Significantly, although frequently overlooked, Farrer provides two, not one, alternative to the Q hypothesis ‘the supposition that St. Luke had read St. Matthew (or vice versa).’ Yet that ‘vice versa’, that is the possibility of Matthew having read Luke, is given no meaningful consideration. Farrer simply appears 29 30 31 32 33 34

Farrer, Dispensing, 66. Farrer, Dispensing, 58. Farrer, Dispensing, 58. Farrer, Dispensing, 58. Farrer, Dispensing, 61. Farrer, Dispensing, 62.

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to know that it was Luke who read Matthew, although he provides no evidence for that conclusion. The more substantive arguments come later in the discussion. First, Farrer attempts to respond to some of the arguments that are brought to bear in rejecting Luke’s use of Matthew. These include: the supposed inexplicable omissions of certain Matthean traditions by Luke; Luke preserving the more primitive version of a double tradition saying; the difference in the use of Markan and Matthean source material by Luke; the double tradition material being placed in less appropriate contexts than it occurs in Matthew; and, the apparent extraction of double tradition material from Markan contexts that occurs in Matthew – even when Luke reproduces the same Markan material.35 In respect to the first three points, Farrer’s response is basically that these are all modern scholarly judgments and that one should not presume to know how Luke might have chosen to arrange his material, or to judge which version of a saying is more primitive. In relation to the apparent greater coherence of the Matthean arrangement, Farrer does not necessarily reject that observation. He simply states that Luke ‘would not be the first planner or last to prefer a plan of his predecessor’s, and to make a less skilful thing of it.’36 If that is the case, one wonders why Farrer has not more seriously entertained the possibility of Matthew’s use of Luke’s Gospel. Moreover, Farrer fails to see that recourse to such arguments is unnecessary on the basis of the Q hypothesis, since one simply has different but independent arrangements. With the last point (the dislocation of Matthean material from Markan contexts), Farrer’s initial response is extremely brief. He states he only has to explain the fact that Luke ‘disencumbers the Marcan narrative of St. Matthew’s additions to it, and puts them by themselves.’37 This disarmingly simply statement belies the fact that for most scholars this ‘disencumbering’ is the weakest claim of the Farrer hypothesis. Farrer’s rejection of the ‘unevidenced’ could be turned against him at this stage. As Derrenbacker and others have shown,38 while conflation of sources can be demonstrated with other texts from antiquity, it is not possible to find a parallel to what would be Luke’s editorial approach. Admittedly, it is not impossible for unparalleled events to occur. Therefore, it is necessary to assess the likelihood of Luke’s compositional techniques, as required by the Farrer hypothesis, on their own merit and on the basis of the most plausible explanation given the surviving evidence. In section three of his chapter, Farrer provides a description of the structure of the Lukan composition. He shows that Luke’s narrative has a logic to it. As he puts it in regard to Luke’s arrangement, ‘[t]he plan is a happy one, and in its 35

36 37 38

These five points are abbreviated forms of the more fulsome statements that Farrer provides. Farrer, Dispensing, 63. Farrer, Dispensing, 65. Farrer, Dispensing, 66. Derrenbacker, Compositional Practices, esp. 171–209.

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narrative parts it is an undisputed success.’39 However, that is not the point of disagreement with those who hold to the two source hypothesis. The substantive point, however, is whether this successful Lukan narrative is better understood as the combination of material drawn from Mark and Q and edited independently of knowledge of Matthew, or whether Luke has started with Mark and Matthew, but extracted the double tradition material from Matthew for the purpose of recombining in a different narrative arrangement. The latter is certainly a more complex procedure, and Farrer never really describes the mechanical processes that such a way of working would entail. Instead he offers value judgments concerning the relative merits of the compositions of the evangelists. If the narrative sections of Luke’s Gospel are judged a success, his presentation of discourse is, according to Farrer, not as successful in comparison with Matthew’s account. He states, ‘St Luke’s teaching section is not so complete a success as St. Matthew’s great discourses.’40 Then in one of the more baffling statements in Farrer’s entire argument, he makes the following observation on Luke’s compositional technique in the teaching section of the third gospel. It is a paradoxical truth, but a truth nevertheless, that an evangelist who proposed to himself a long continuous teaching was bound to carve it up. The discourses of Christ in St. Luke’s middle part are conceived in episodes of moderate length, one following another. And it must be difficult to employ such a method without seeming somewhat monotonous and somewhat miscellaneous. Fresh episodes arise, but nothing much happens; the teaching is the thing, but the teaching is unsystematic because it is episodic.41

The paradox to which Farrer draws attention does not appear to be such a selfevident ‘truth’. Rather, it seems that the successful compositor of the narrative section has had a lapse in compositional ability in the teaching section – especially if, on Farrer’s own assessment, the model of Matthew’s more refined and compelling discourse stood before him.42 This is perhaps an aspect of the composition of Luke’s Gospel that can be explained with relative ease on the basis of the two source hypothesis. When it comes to presenting Jesus’ teaching in the middle section of the third gospel, Luke simply lays aside his Markan source and inserts non-Markan material for several chapters before returning to the Markan source material. On his own theory, Farrer envisages a Luke who has unpicked Matthean material from Mark, but then breaks up the long Matthean material, and to some extent jumbles it with a miscellany of teaching material. Farrer never considers how that would be physically possible. Such a hypothetical process would presumably involve a copy of Matthew and Mark before Luke to identify Matthean material added to Mark, and a third piece of 39 40 41 42

Farrer, Dispensing, 67. Farrer, Dispensing, 67. Farrer, Dispensing, 67–68. For Farrer, the teaching section of Luke comprises Lk 10.25–18.30. See Farrer, Dispensing, 73.

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papyrus required for copying out Matthean material extracted from Mark – or was perhaps all the Markan material crossed out on Luke’s copy of Matthew? There are no surviving copies of gospels with large amounts of crossing out. Thus, the mechanical process appears complicated in the extreme. In concluding his overall argument, Farrer sees Matthew as an amplified version of Mark, ‘based on a decade of habitual preaching, and incorporating oral material, but presupposing no other literary source beside St. Mark himself.’43 Therefore, Farrer permits the influence of certain homiletic oral traditions, some of it the reflection of the seasoned preacher, but allows no written sources into this compositional process. Here Farrer appears to know how Mark’s Gospel would have been used and developed in an intervening decade. One may simply ask how this can be known? In relation to the other gospels Farrer states, St. Luke, in turn, will be found to presuppose St. Matthew and St. Mark, and St. John to presuppose the three others. The whole literary history of the canonical Gospel tradition will be found to be contained in the fourfold canon itself, except in so far as it lies in the Old Testament, the Pseudepigrapha, and the other New Testament writings.44

As Farrer therefore conceives the solution to the synoptic problem, all written sources are removed from accounting for the synoptic inter-relationships (and also from the composition of John). One may ask the general question concerning the likelihood of the preservation of all early written traditions that resulted in the composition of the four gospels contained in the New Testament. However, that is the account of literary relations as set out by Farrer in his analysis of the solution to the synoptic problem. After a period of a couple of decades of relative quiet, others began to write in support of the theory articulated by Farrer. That is not to suggest that in the intervening period his theory of Luke’s direct and substantive use of the Gospel of Matthew without recourse to a Q source gained no followers. Rather, those who were attracted to Farrer’s ideas did not produce much published scholarship in the two or three decades after the publication of his influential essay.

4.

The Followers of Farrer

There have been several scholars who adopted Farrer’s understanding of the literary relationships between the synoptic gospels. However, this acceptance was often acknowledged in conversations or in teaching. This section will concentrate on British scholars who followed the Farrer hypothesis and added 43 44

Farrer, Dispensing, 85. Farrer, Dispensing, 85.

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support for it in published works discussing the synoptic problem, rather than attempting to mention those who may support the Farrer hypothesis without writing on the topic. Therefore, the scholars who will be considered in this section include Michael Goulder, John Drury, Eric Franklin, Barbara Shellard, and Mark Goodacre.

4.1.

Michael Goulder

Michael Goulder was one of the most influential proponents of the Farrer hypothesis, producing a series of relevant publications from the 1970s onwards. Having been ordained in Hong Kong prior to formal theological training, Goulder returned to England during the 1960s, taking up a curacy at the University Church in Oxford, and simultaneously studying theology under the guidance of Austin Farrer at Trinity College. During the period of 1969–1971, Goulder presented the Speaker’s Lectures at Trinity College, Oxford. The lectures appeared in a fuller published form in 1974, as Midrash and Lection in Matthew.45 Goulder’s literary output in support of the Farrer hypothesis was extensive, including a further two-volume monograph46 and several articles.47 Towards the end of his monograph, Midrash and Lection in Matthew, is found a chapter entitled ‘Luke’s Use of Mark and Matthew.’48 The bulk of the book advances the central thesis that the Gospel of Matthew is a midrashic expansion of Markan material arranged liturgically ‘to follow an annual Festal cycle.’49 The justification for turning attention to the Gospel of Luke at the end of the book is stated in the following terms: ‘[n]o solution to the problem of Matthew can be proposed without involving the whole problem of Luke.’50 In relation to Matthew’s re-writing of Mark, Goulder sees this process as almost entirely due to Matthew’s creativity and virtually devoid of any external sources of information either in written or oral form. Thus, he states, ‘I have found no considerable passage in the Gospel which seemed to require a written or an oral source, and I have suggested reasons for thinking it unlikely that there were many non-Markan traditions in Matthew’s ambit in the 70s.’51 As a corollary, the implications of this position for historical Jesus research is striking. Any material in Matthew (and also in Luke) that has no Markan counterpart is a later creation of the evangelists, and in no way can be seen as originating within the context of Jesus’ mission and teaching. That of course does not mean that all Markan 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

Goulder, Midrash. Goulder, Luke, 2 vols. Articles include Goulder, Juggernaut. Goulder, Midrash, 452–471. Goulder, Midrash, 227. Goulder, Midrash, 452. Goulder, Midrash, 474.

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material does originate with Jesus. However, it is striking that whereas historical Jesus scholars have often found the greatest bulk of potentially authentic material in the double material,52 for Goulder this is an impossibility. In response to some of Streeter’s classic criticisms of the notion of Luke’s knowledge of Matthew, Goulder makes a number of observations. First, in regard to the view of the alternating primitivity of double tradition material as it is found in Matthew and Luke, Goulder refutes this claim entirely. He counters that at every point the Lukan version of the double tradition is always secondary without exception.53 In regard to Luke’s rearrangement of Matthean material, a procedure which Streeter had claimed would only be possible if one were to believe Luke ‘was a crank’54, Goulder offers a detailed defence. First he lays out three assumptions: (a) Luke was the companion of Paul and author of Acts; (b) he wrote the Gospel soon after A.D. 85; (c) Luke was an ἐπίσκοπος of the church of Philippi, or another of the major Greek churches.55 Luke’s association with the gentile part of the early Jesus movement is vital to Goulder in problematising the Gospel of Matthew. In this vein Goulder writes, ‘Matthew, however, must seem to a Greek Christian preacher an ambivalent work.’56 In particular, the lectionary cycle that Goulder detects in Matthew, based on Jewish calendrical systems, would have been totally foreign to Luke. This alone would have occasioned the necessity to re-structure and re-order the Matthean account in ways that would be more readily accessible and comprehensible to a gentile audience. The remainder of the chapter is devoted to demonstrating how Matthew’s ‘Jewish’ lectionary would have been meaningless for Luke’s Greek audience. In its stead Goulder sees Luke creating a gentile-friendly lectionary, and selecting traditions from Matthew (the so-called double tradition material) which have the quality of ‘Luke-pleasingness.’ Goulder describes the material, which on his theory Luke borrowed from Matthew, as appealing to him for the following reason. ‘The open sayings, the memorable epigrams, the striking similes: that is the Q material – in its full antithetical form in Matthew, abbreviated and Lukanized in Luke.’57 Thus for Goulder the Matthean additions to Mark are selected by Luke and stripped of any sense of exclusive religion or reference to Jewish practices and concerns over Torah observance. One might, however, question whether Luke’s version of Matthean traditions has been sanitized to

52 53 54 55 56 57

For instance, see the publication of the Jesus Seminar, Funk et al., Five Gospels. Goulder, Midrash, 452. Streeter, Four Gospels, 183. Goulder, Midrash, 452–453. Goulder, Midrash, 453. Goulder, Midrash, 454.

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the degree that Goulder’s hypothesis requires.58 Ultimately, this version of the Farrer hypothesis as articulated by Goulder failed to convince many fellow scholars, primarily due to the speculative nature of the whole lectionary theory which underpinned it. The implausibility of theories of rival lectionaries meant that in this form Goulder’s ideas were largely ignored and widely regarded as idiosyncratic. Goulder provides a fuller statement of his version of the Farrer hypothesis in his two-volume monograph, Luke: A New Paradigm.59 Goulder presents his study in two parts. The first is entitled ‘the argument’,60 and the second ‘the commentary’.61 Although the discussion in the argument section is grounded on the analysis in the commentary, the position in all its salient points is represented in the first section. The first of the five chapters that comprise section one, ‘A House Built on Sand’, seeks to highlight what Goulder sees as some of the fallacious bases of the two-document hypothesis, and also what is required to bring about the paradigm-shift that he was seeking to establish. Thus Goulder states, ‘[f]undamental to the whole argument is the philosophical priority of consideration for the simple before the complex.’62 Here Goulder measures simplicity in terms of the number of hypothetical sources. Thus reducing that number to zero is for him the simplest and purest version of a synoptic solution hypothesis that he can envisage. Yet, as has been discussed previously, this is not the only, or even the most appropriate understanding of ‘simplicity’ in relation to the synoptic problem. The subsidiary hypotheses that are required to explain Luke’s selective re-use of Matthean material may result in a more complex hypothesis than is the case with the two-document hypothesis. In the end, it is erroneous to give automatic priority to any hypothesis on the basis of simplicity measured in terms of fewest sources alone. Rather, any plausible hypothesis should be tested to see which best accounts for the state of the textual data as it now stands in the synoptic gospels. In fairness to Goulder, this is what he attempts in his commentary section, but the argument is driven by an overarching belief that the fewest sources alone represents the most plausible solution to the synoptic problem. The second chapter of the argument is a sustained attempt to point out weaknesses in the Q hypothesis and therefore to dismantle it.63 Initially the discussion traces the emergence of the Q hypothesis. Goulder states, correctly in some respects, that a number of the original factors that led to postulating the 58

59 60 61 62 63

For instance consider the Lukan material in Lk 16.16–18 in comparison to Matt 11.12–13; 5.18. If Luke’s version has indeed combined these sayings editorially, then the result appears to be a stronger affirmation of Torah. Goulder, Luke, 2 vols., 1. Goulder, Luke, vol. 1, 3–177, notes 179–194. Goulder, Luke, vol. 1, 195–452, and vol. 2. Goulder, Luke, vol. 1, 24. Goulder, Luke, vol. 1, 27–71.

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Q hypothesis are not held by proponents of the hypothesis any longer. However, it is questionable whether such factors should be determinative in judging the current plausibility of the Q hypothesis. This point is recognised in part by Goulder who turns to an assessment of the mature and current articulation of the hypothesis. Notwithstanding this, Goulder remains of the opinion that the reformulation of aspects of the Q hypothesis tells against its plausibility. Against this, it may be noted that scientific hypotheses are open to stages of testing and refinement prior to acceptance as adopted theories. Thus, hypothesis testing and reformulation are both key parts of the scientific method. With a rhetorical flourish, Goulder condemns both historic and contemporary arguments for the existence of Q. So although the arguments used to support the Q hypothesis have changed in the last century and a half, they have not changed for the better. Old mistakes – the reliability of Papias, apostolic authorship of the Matthean discourses, the significance of the doublets, the wide circulation of source-documents – have been replaced by new mistakes – the impossibility of Luke’s shortening a discourse, or re-organizing Matthean material, or rewriting it, errors over conflation and over the various steps in language arguments. The record is a depressing one, but the straightforward observer must look the depressing truth in the eye.64

A further argument that Goulder advances is that proponents of the Q hypothesis consider it a priori unlikely that the Gospel of Matthew should have been known to Luke. Thus, in opposition to this view Goulder states, ‘all things being equal, we should have expected Luke to have a copy.’65 However, what Goulder does not acknowledge is that there is no secure basis to determine the relative dating of both Matthew and Luke. If Matthew were written later than Luke, then that would certainly tell against Luke having a copy of Matthew. It is not being suggested that Matthew is necessarily later than Luke, only that there is no conclusive evidence to determine which is earlier and which is later – unless one assumes the result in order to support the case that Goulder is seeking to prove. Goulder’s third chapter opens with the observation that supporters of the Q hypothesis ‘claim that sometimes the Matthean form of a Q logion is secondary to the Lucan.’66 In fact that is perhaps an understatement. Proponents of Q tend to argue that the Lukan form is more frequently the more primitive form, and hence the Matthean form of a unit of double tradition material is more often secondary. However, cases are noted where Matthew does preserve a more primitive form of a parallel in the double tradition. This feature is typically labelled as the ‘alternating primitivity’ of the double tradition material. Hence, it is argued that in regard to this material neither Matthew nor Luke consistently and without exception preserves the more primitive form of traditions that 64 65 66

Goulder, Luke, vol. 1, 46. Goulder, Luke, vol. 1, 47. Goulder, Luke, vol. 1, 73.

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constitute the double tradition material. Therefore neither is dependent on the other, but both draw upon a common source. Rather than tackle this issue in his third chapter, Goulder correctly sees that each case must be assessed on its merits. Thus he states, ‘[t]his allegation can be answered only by consideration of the whole Gospel seriatim; that I undertake in the commentary below, where I intend to make strong the battle against the last enemy, and overthrow it.’67 Thus chapter three is reserved for a consideration of Luke’s special material. The aim is to show that it is not derived from pre-existent sources, written or oral, but in its entirety stems from Luke’s redactional creativity. Goulder’s first move is to problematise the theory of special Lukan material by illustrating the different scholarly understandings of the content of that proposed source. While Goulder states that he is not suggesting ‘that Luke had no tradition other than that in Mark and Matthew’,68 his arguments largely suggest that he is very close to such a position. Elsewhere he states, ‘[w]hy should we not consider the possibility that much of the Sondergut is specially Lucan in the sense that it is also Luke’s rewriting of Mark and Matthew?’69 Therefore, Goulder’s key aim in his third chapter is to demonstrate that the uniquely Lukan material is either the third evangelist’s reworking of Markan and Matthean traditions, or that it is due to Luke’s redactional creativity. Here Goulder follows Farrer closely in arguing for a synoptic theory that dispenses with any source material (apart from the Jewish scriptures) that is external to the synoptic evangelists themselves. After examining thirty different features of Luke’s Gospel, Goulder finds clear evidence of Lukan creativity across this single tradition material that aligns with the redactional feature to be found in Luke’s reuse of Mark. Thus it is suggested that, ‘we are able to find clear signs of Luke’s own redaction by beginning from the Marcan logia; but even without them, the regularity of related features is strongly suggestive of the same mind at work.’70 Here one may legitimately ask how this excludes the unique or special Lukan material being drawn from sources. If the types of features typical of Luke’s redactional handiwork are determined and identified through Luke’s handling of Markan source material, and those same features are observed in the special Lukan material, then is it not more likely that Luke is again working with source material and leaving his consistent redactional imprint on it (as he did with Mark), rather than that Luke is creating material de novo? The final two chapters of the introductory discussion require less comment. Chapter four, simply entitled ‘Paul’, argues for some Lukan acquaintance with the letters of Paul. Goulder states that Luke echoes ‘every chapter of 1 Corinthians from 3 to 11, and the last two chapters of 1 Thessalonians, while 67 68 69 70

Goulder, Luke, vol. 1, 73. Goulder, Luke, vol. 1, 75. Goulder, Luke, vol. 1, 75. Goulder, Luke, vol. 1, 123.

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not doing the same for the rest of the Pauline corpus’.71 By ‘Luke’ Goulder means the Gospel of Luke specifically, and not Acts. Thus he finds in the Gospel evidence for the first stage of the collection of the Pauline letters, and argues that this occurred in Corinth. This subsidiary hypothesis is not central to Goulder’s overall synoptic theory. However, it does raise the question of why, having excluded the possibility of other sources external to the synoptic gospels as being a factor in the formation of the synoptic tradition, he is so ready to include such slight parallels to Pauline material as being echoed in Luke’s Gospel. Perhaps Goulder would simply argue that that was the way it was. Yet one is left with the impression that different standards are being applied in respect to the different elements in the argument. The fifth and final chapter of the introduction is a restatement of the lectionary theory, discussed in Midrash and Lection in Matthew and subsequently in another monograph, The Evangelists’ Calendar.72 The restatement of the lectionary theory has been assessed by Mark Goodacre, who is certainly not one of Goulder’s harshest critics. He notes that the reformulated case does indeed overcome some of the earlier difficulties, especially by dispensing with the reconstruction of a weekly cycle.73 Ultimately, however, Goodacre passes the following judgment on Goulder’s lectionary theory: Goulder’s restatement in LNP [= Luke: A New Paradigm] avoids several, but not all, of the difficulties of the earlier case and so the lectionary theory is still not totally convincing. If, though, one decides to shelve the restatement too, the odds and explanatory power in its favour will be enough to cause some regret and a few lingering hesitations.74

Therefore, overall Goulder’s fullest explanation of his synoptic theory remains an expression of the strong position of the Farrer hypothesis in that it permits no significant sources of tradition external to the synoptic gospels to be utilised as explanation for their formation. Goulder likewise retains his commitment to the idea that the gospels are formed on the basis of a lectionary calendar, although that theory is reformulated to remove some of the complexity of its statement as found in Goulder’s earlier works.

4.2.

John Drury

As stated in his preface, Drury’s ideas about Luke’s direct use of Matthew began to develop in embryonic form prior to the published work of Michael Goulder on the subject. However, it was Goulder’s Speaker’s Lectures ‘that brought into focus’ several of his ideas in relation to the Gospel of Luke.75 His ideas on Luke’s 71 72 73 74 75

Goulder, Luke, vol. 1, 143. Goulder, Calendar. Goodacre, Goulder, 361. Goodacre, Goulder, 362. Drury, Tradition, xi.

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use of the Gospel of Matthew are articulated in the penultimate chapter of his book.76 Closely following Goulder’s ideas, Drury states that it is possible to offer a thorough and learned explanation of Matthew’s gospel without resort to Q, its exegetical function being taken over by the application to Mark’s gospel of techniques of midrash and the demands of the liturgical year.77

In this regard, Drury is one of the closest followers of Goulder’s ideas. Moreover, he argues that ‘Mark is Luke’s leading source for story, Matthew for instruction.’78 In response to his own rhetorical question of why Luke used Mark at all since Matthew contains parallels to nearly all of the Markan material, Drury suggests that this is because ‘Matthew’s version of his Markan material is so abbreviated as often to lose the impact of the original along with the details that give it a note of authenticity.’79 However, if one considers a representative Markan narrative, such as the intercalated story of the healing of Jairus’ daughter and the woman with the flow of blood, the following emerges. It is indeed the case that Matthew has radically abbreviated the Markan form of the story – Mk 5.21–43 (369 words)//Matt 9.18–26 (139 words). However, it is also the case that Luke also heavily abbreviates the same story (Lk 8.40–56; 288 words). Other examples could be considered and of course different patterns of numbers would emerge. However, that is in a way the point. There is no clear pattern of Luke striving to replicate the wording of Mark to mitigate against the abbreviations of Matthew. Rather, both Matthew and Luke frequently abbreviate Mark in slightly different and what appears to be independent ways. Matthew might be more radical in the degree of abbreviation. Yet Luke also abbreviates Mark in a manner that is not suggestive of a concern to preserve the vividness, or the detail, or any perceived authenticity as Drury suggests. Perhaps the other key point that Drury integrates into his argument is the view that the middle section of Luke’s Gospel (Lk 9.51–18.14) represents what he terms as a ‘Christian Deuteronomy’. By this, Drury means that one of Luke’s key purposes ‘is to present Jesus as a prophet and the historical culmination of old prophetic tradition.’80 Following C.F. Evans,81 Drury sees this section of the Gospel of Luke as revealing Jesus as the fulfilment of the promise that God would raise up a prophet like Moses (Deut 18.18), connected with the aspiration in Malachi 4.4–5 of the return of Elijah linked with the return of Moses. Conse76 77 78 79 80 81

Drury, Tradition, 120–173. Drury, Tradition, 120. Drury, Tradition, 121. Drury, Tradition, 121. Drury, Tradition, 147. Evans, Central Section, 37–53, esp. 51–53. In his commentary on Luke, Evans discusses the possibility of Luke’s direct use of Matthew in conversation with Farrer, Drury, Green and Goulder. In the end he rejects this in favour of Luke using Mark, Q and L material, although he entertains the views that ‘the Q material was not single’ and that ‘the L material was not unified and documentary but heterogeneous and largely oral.’ Evans: Saint Luke, 29.

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quently, for Drury while Matthean material can be integrated into this section when it is consonant with Luke’s thematic aims, Matthew’s structure and narrative flow remain secondary to the presentation of Luke’s ‘Christian Deuteronomy’. Drury employs two metaphors to describe Luke’s lack of agreement with the Matthean order and framework for shared material in Lk 9.51– 18.14. He states, The thread through the labyrinth is Deuteronomy. Matthew is secondary. To change the metaphor Deuteronomy is the string on to which Luke threads teaching material from Matthew and from his own resources.82

However, both the complexity and the lack of strong evidence in favour of this proposal reduces its plausibility. While there are undoubtedly some links with material in Deuteronomy in Lk 9.51–18.14, those connections are not as thoroughgoing as such a comprehensive theory would probably require. In the end Drury adopts various aspects from his predecessors in support of the theory that Luke made direct use of Matthew. Perhaps his greatest individual contribution to the theory was the idea that Luke’s decision not to follow Matthew’s order in the middle section of his gospel (when he was not following Mark), was the notion that a highly literate Luke intentionally created a Deuteronomic framework. This idea has not gained wide assent with either later proponents of the view that Luke used Matthew, or more widely in New Testament scholarship. Thus Drury is best understood as a supporter of the Farrer hypothesis as it is widely conceived, but he has not made any further lasting refinement of the basic theory.

4.3.

Eric Franklin

In a wide ranging, but frequently neglected monograph, Franklin seeks to assess Luke’s contribution as a major writer in the early Jesus movement. His study comprises three major parts. The first part explores the relationship between Luke and Paul. While arguing that Luke was directly acquainted with Paul and his thought, Franklin suggests that Luke was an appreciative re-interpreter of Paul’s ideas to create what he calls a ‘nuanced Paulinism’.83 In part two, without recourse to specific synoptic theories, Franklin compares the Lukan and Matthean handling of several aspects common to the two gospels such as the representation of the Pharisees, the Law, Christians and Jews, the Kingdom of God, and Christology.84

82 83 84

Drury, Tradition, 140. Franklin, Luke, 37. These topics are discussed in separate chapters, covering chapters eight to twelve. Franklin, Luke, 174–278.

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It is in part three, ‘Luke’s Use of Matthew’, that Franklin commences the section of his study that is most relevant to this discussion of the development of the Farrer hypothesis. What is, however, particularly striking is that while Franklin advances what is basically a fairly standard form of the Farrer hypothesis, Farrer is not discussed in this book. Farrer’s ‘On Dispensing with Q’ article is listed in the bibliography but there is no reference to Farrer in the author index and no direct discussion of Farrer’s ideas are observed in the book. Similarly, there is no reference to Lummis’ earlier work. However, by contrast, the ideas of Michael Goulder are referenced frequently. Thus one may assume that it is under the influence of Goulder’s articulation of the idea that Luke used Matthew, that Franklin’s own ideas developed. In terms of the formulation of the Farrer hypothesis (although that term is not employed), Franklin offers little that is new. He argues that Luke used both Mark and Matthew as his source material. Describing Luke’s source relationships, Franklin states that ‘Mark was his primary source to which everything else including Matthew was supplementary.’85 While Franklin’s reference to ‘everything else including Matthew’ might be seen as an indication of a multiplicity of other sources, he quickly reverts to the language of just ‘two sources’ and he notes that Luke’s attitude to Matthew was vastly different from his attitude to Mark. Here Franklin makes his greatest contribution to the statement of the Farrer hypothesis. He seeks to give fuller expression to the reasons behind Luke’s differentiated handling of his two predecessors. Drawing on some of the insights of Goulder, Franklin comments on the Luke displeasingness of Matthew. Basically, from the perspective of Luke’s nuanced Paulinism, Matthew’s perspectives on the law and Jewish matters are seen to be at odds with Luke’s theological commitments shaped in the Pauline ambit. Therefore, while knowledge of the Gospel of Matthew provided Luke with the impulse to create a new gospel account that communicated his own theological understandings, Luke was fundamentally at odds with Matthew’s theological perspectives. Hence, speaking of Luke’s attitude to Matthew, Franklin comments, The Gospel [of Matthew] reflected a stance which basically was inimical to his own. It ran counter to his attitude to the Law by advocating a mixed community living consciously in relation to it and responding to its terms. Its rigorism cut across the outreach which lay at the heart of his own understanding to encourage a closed community, self-consciously concerned with a standard which denied the legitimacy of those of a different persuasion, building up the status of the community as an anticipation of the kingdom of God, and deliberately denying the sphere of the kingdom to the people of Israel.86

There is much in Franklin’s representation of the outlook of the Gospel of Matthew that is open to challenge. That, however, is not the point of this discussion. Rather, the key observation is that Franklin sought to advance the 85 86

Franklin, Luke, 370. Franklin, Luke, 381.

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synoptic hypothesis of Luke’s direct dependence on Matthew by showing that Luke’s differentiated handling of Markan and Matthean source material could be understood by seeing Luke as being broadly a supporter of Pauline theological perspectives, and in stark contrast that ‘Luke is in fact a critic of Matthew.’87

4.4.

Barbara Shellard

Barbara Shellard embarks on a larger project than simply arguing for Luke’s direct literary dependence on Matthew. She sees Luke as being dependent on all three of the other canonical gospels, and from this perspective she proposes the purpose of Luke’s new literary composition. Thus Shellard states, Luke may be combining traditions from all other canonical Gospels. To this end he has placed Matthaean teaching into appropriate contexts in a basically Markan narrative, and inserted into his text Johannine details … Luke seemingly aims to incorporate as much as possible of the material at his disposal, provided that it is not seriously discordant with his own interpretation.88

Within this larger project, the hypothesis of Luke’s use of Matthew is a key component, and a chapter of the monograph is devoted to this aspect of the overall argument.89 For Shellard, it is the Lukan prologue that rules out the plausibility of the Q hypothesis. She states that ‘the contention that there was no literary relationship of any sort between them [the Synoptic Gospels] faces a problem in Luke’s prologue, which an almost certainty refers explicitly to many (πολλοί) written sources, and is surely refuted by the extent of the agreements between in wording and order.’90 There are several aspects to this statement that are worth consideration. First, Luke does refer to a multiplicity of predecessors. Second, the agreement in wording and order is strong with Mark’s Gospel. After these observations the problems arise. It is the lack of agreement with the Gospel of Matthew apart from a subset of its traditions that causes difficulties, as well as the fact that those common traditions are placed in different Markan contexts, or not in Markan contexts at all in the Gospel of Luke, that causes challenges for Shellard’s reading of the Lukan prologue. These counterarguments existed before Shellard presented her thesis, and despite this she has produced a very particular interpretation of the Lukan prologue that few would accept. In response to the charge that Luke has broken up the careful Matthean order, Shellard draws upon the arguments of Lummis, Farrer and Goulder, with most indebtedness to Lummis. Here Lummis’ calculations are 87 88 89 90

Franklin, Luke, 370. Shellard, New Light, 289–290. See especially chapter 3. Shellard, New Light, 59–84. Shellard, New Light, 59–60.

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presented to show that Luke in fact follows quite closely Matthew’s order.91 Yet in many ways this fails to address the nub of the problem. While some of the material is in the same order in both Matthew and Luke, it is deployed in very different contexts and often for varied purposes. Here Shellard adds a further argument. She suggests that Luke ‘dislikes long, uninterrupted blocks of teaching.’92 It is questionable whether one can move from the observation that on average Luke has shorter blocks of teaching to the conclusion that Luke has actively divided up larger blocks of teaching. If Luke is following Q, then this is simply reproduction of source material rather than the intentional reduction in length of Matthew’s discourses. Shellard also appeals to the classic issue of the minor agreements to problematise the two source theory. Additionally she tackles the phenomenon of alternating primitivity with a description of the example of the beatitude concerning the poor: ‘blessed are the poor in spirit’ (Matt 5.3)//’blessed are the poor’ (Lk 6.20). The response to the view that Luke preserves the earlier form of the beatitude is that ‘Luke is attempting to render Matthew’s beautiful but impersonal periods in a pithier, more direct way.’93 Two factors tell against this type of argument. There are numerous examples where Luke appears to preserve the more primitive version of a double tradition saying. Therefore the argument cannot be refuted by considering a single case. Second, on other occasions, Luke has the lengthier rather than the pithier version of parallel material.94 So what Shellard proposes for the beatitude would not reflect a consistent editorial approach to the Matthean material. Admittedly, Luke could be inconsistent in the practice of abbreviation or lengthening. That, however, reduces the force of Shellard’s argument since it appears to be a case of selective application of editorial concerns – when Luke shortens material it is because he likes to be pithy, but when he lengthens material it is because he likes to elaborate and provide fuller explanations. Shellard also sees the Lukan birth narrative as a creative rewriting of Matthew’s narrative. One is left with an overall impression that arguments are invoked in a haphazard manner for various parallel tradition material to explain all parallels in terms of reasons why Luke is altering Matthew, with considering the overall plausibility of positing an author who edits source material in such divergent and perhaps contradictory ways. Thus, Shellard offers explanations for all 91 92 93 94

Shellard, New Light, 64–65. Shellard, New Light, 65. Shellard, New Light, 78. The phenomenon of Luke preserving the lengthier version of a double tradition parallel spans multiple types of material. It can be found in relation to the healing of the centurion’s servant Matt 8.5–13//Lk 7.10; an individual saying about reclining with the Patriarchs, ‘many from the east and west will come and recline’ (Matt 8.11a)//‘and they will come from the east and west and from the north and south and recline in the kingdom of God’ (Lk 13.29); and in parabolic material such as the parable of the lost sheep, Matt 18.12–14//Lk 15.4–7.

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double tradition parallels that she discusses in a way that aligns with the assumption that Luke is the editor of Matthew’s Gospel. However, there is no comparison with alternative explanations arising from other solutions to the synoptic problem, nor an assessment of the overall plausibility of the concatenation of arguments employed to ensure that Luke is always represented as derivative on Matthew. Furthermore, Shellard’s arguments in the discussion of Luke’s use of Matthew are largely derivative on the views of earlier scholars, and she provides little that moves the argument for the Farrer hypothesis forward.

4.5.

Mark Goodacre

Without any doubt the person who has done the most to reformulate the Farrer, or Mark without Q, hypothesis is Mark Goodacre. Although now based at Duke University, Goodacre’s doctoral study, which was an assessment of Goulder’s synoptic theory, was undertaken at the University of Oxford. Furthermore, his two subsequent books on the topic were published while he was lecturing at the University of Birmingham.95 With the first published of these two books, The Synoptic Problem, in the first four chapters Goodacre presents strong arguments in defence of Markan priority. In regard to the final three chapters, the first of these describes the Q hypothesis, the second states arguments against Q, and finally the third proposes some initial thoughts on preference for the Farrer hypothesis rather than the two source theory. The second volume, The Case Against Q, which appeared a year later, covers much of the same ground but in different proportions. There is an opening chapter on the priority of Mark, which is a fundamental part of the Farrer hypothesis. However, since this aspect is not widely questioned, the focus rightly falls on the more contested aspect refuting the existence of Q in order to bolster the case for Luke’s use of Matthew. In some respects, this volume is not engaged in direct advocacy of the Farrer hypothesis – although that is the subtext that runs throughout the study. As the title of the book implies, the chief aim is to discredit and hence to dismantle the arguments presented in favour of the Q hypothesis. By so doing, the intention is to leave the Farrer hypothesis – with its commitment to Markan priority – as the only plausible synoptic solution that advocates the view that the Gospel of Mark was indeed the first narrative composed. Goodacre tackles traditional arguments against the plausibility of Luke’s use of Matthew’s gospel. He responds to Streeter’s somewhat florid statement that Luke’s extraction of certain Matthean additions to Markan material only to reposition it in other Markan contexts ‘would only be tenable if, on other grounds,

95

Goodacre, Synoptic Problem.

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we had reason to believe he [Luke] was a crank.’96 Here Goodacre makes the correct observation that Luke does not tend to relocate what would be extracted material according to the Farrer hypothesis in new Markan contexts. As Goodacre accurately states, ‘Most of the pieces of Luke’s Double Tradition do not appear in a “different context of Mark”, whether appropriate or otherwise, because very little of Luke’s Double Tradition occurs in a Markan context at all.’97 While that observation is correct, and provides a more accurate description of what would be required of Luke’s editorial work on the basis of Farrer hypothesis, it simply does not address the fundamental problem. The extraction of Matthew’s additions to Mark requires explanation if Luke is indeed using both Matthew and Mark. If Luke repositions that extracted material in other contexts, such as the two main sections Goodacre states Lk 6.20–8.3 and 9.51–18.14, this is still a complicated and unusual editorial practice. At the very least, a plausible explanation of such literary activity is required. Not only does one need to explain the motivation, but also the actual mechanics for doing this. As has already been suggested, Luke would have had scrolls of Matthew and Mark in front of him. It would have been necessary to locate the same stories in these different scrolls. Then a third scroll would have been required on which to copy out those Matthean traditions that Luke wished to reuse in his own composition. Presumably this was done prior to the fourth scroll being unrolled for Luke to compose his own account. At this point maybe the scroll of Matthew was put away, and Luke commenced writing his own gospel with just two scrolls in front of him. The scroll of Mark and the scroll of what would look similar to the hypothesized Q document, but extracted from Matthew only to be copied into Luke. Yet here, although it has taken more stages to get there, we have a Luke who is composing with two documents, Mark and a scroll containing material that looks remarkably like Q. Perhaps there is a more simple way that one could have arrived at the same point, without recourse to extraction theories! It is perhaps the failure to consider the actual mechanics of what is required for the Farrer hypothesis to work that at least on a surface level gives it an initial air of plausibility. Related to this is the argument that is typically described as something along the lines employed by Goodacre, namely ‘Luke’s Ignorance of Matthew’s Additions to Mark.’ Here Goodacre commences with another correct observation. He responds to those who note that Luke does not reproduce Matthew’s addition to the story of Jesus walking on the water (Mark 6.45–51) of Peter attempting the same feat but sinking, Matt 14.28–31 in the middle of Matt 14.22– 33. It is the case that Luke does not replicate the Markan version of the story, hence whether the Matthean addition is present or not is immaterial. Thus Goodacre states, ‘[o]ne can hardly be surprised that Luke lacks the Matthean 96 97

Streeter, Four Gospels, 183. Goodacre, Synoptic Problem, 124.

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additions to a story that does not feature at all in his Gospel.’98 While this is entirely correct, the other examples cannot be dealt with so easily. Goodacre does discuss the absence of the extended Matthean version of the Caesarea Philippi confession from Luke’s gospel – a passage which Luke does reproduce in its Markan form. Goodacre’s explanation is that ‘Luke might prefer the Markan version that had been more familiar to him over a longer period of time.’99 While Mark almost certainly was written earlier than Matthew, is it possible to know with the certainty that Goodacre claims that Luke not only knew of Mark before Matthew, but for considerably longer than Matthew? That is an assumption. Goodacre also notes that Matthew’s addition to the Caesarea Philippi scene has ‘a characteristically Matthean stamp’. This is given as a reason for Luke’s nonuse of this Matthean tradition. Here one might legitimately ask if, as Goodacre suggests, on the one hand Mark was so pleasing to Luke yet on the other Matthew so displeasing to Luke, then why did Luke use Matthew at all, and moreover why did he go to so much trouble to extract a relatively small selection of sayings and other material from this text. The unanswered difficulties arise both at the level of overall plausibility of the hypothesis and also with the complexity in describing the mechanics of Luke’s editorial activity – which seem different from the way any other author handled source material in antiquity.100 Like his predecessors who supported the Farrer hypothesis, Goodacre responds to the argument of alternating primitivity, namely the phenomenon that on various occasions either Matthew or Luke has the earlier form of double tradition material. This is one of the most problematic sets of evidence for supporters of the Farrer hypothesis. As has been discussed, both Farrer and Goulder’s approach was to claim that in every instance the Lukan version of double tradition material was secondary to the version contained in Matthew. Goodacre adds a new aspect to the response that Farrer hypothesis proponents give to the phenomenon of alternating primitivity that does not require him to maintain the hard line that Luke always has the more developed version of double tradition material. Here Goodacre appeals to what he describes as ‘the living stream of oral tradition’. It is worth quoting Goodacre at length at this point to represent his argument fairly. The issue [of alternating primitivity] is complicated by the likelihood that on occasions Luke may well have preserved elements from different versions of Jesus’ sayings in his oral tradition. When we are looking at Matthew’s and Luke’s relation to Mark, we noted the absurdity of assuming that oral traditions of the Jesus story died out as soon as the evangelists committed them to papyrus and, consequently, the likelihood that the later evangelists redacted Mark in the light of their knowledge of such oral traditions. This means that on occasion, Matthew and Luke inevitably bear witness to different, sometimes more original versions of Jesus material than the versions found in their 98 99 100

Goodacre, Synoptic Problem, 129. Goodacre, Synoptic Problem, 129. See the detailed discussion of this issue in Derrenbacker, Compositional Practices, especially 171–202.

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literary source Mark. Consequently, it is scarcely a major leap of the imagination to see Luke occasionally bearing witness to different or more original versions of sayings found in his literary source, Matthew.101

It is important to understand what Goodacre is saying here. He acknowledges that within the double tradition material there are instances where the Lukan version of a double tradition parallel appears to be more primitive than the Matthean version. Furthermore, Goodacre recognises that this more primitive form cannot be derived from the more developed form contained in Matthew, but must stem from another source of tradition. Admittedly, for Goodacre this is oral rather than written tradition. However, as the examples of Lukan priority within the double tradition material multiply, one might wonder about the sustainability of multiple more primitive oral traditions coming to Luke via a range of separate tradents. The problem is only further exacerbated when one recognises that the oral tradition may have originated in Aramaic. This means Luke may have accessed a tradition that was transmitted through Aramaic into a Greek oral form. Moreover, Luke also knew of a written parallel form in the Gospel of Matthew. However, that written Matthean text (although written prior to Luke) preserved a developed form of the tradition which presumably also came to Matthew orally. Yet, Luke frequently recognized and preserved the primitive oral form over the written form before him. Leaving aside the complexity of the tradition history proposed by Goodacre, it is accurate to comment that such an explanation was anathema to earlier proponents of the Farrer hypothesis. As Farrer himself stated in his final sentence, ‘[o]nce rid of Q, we are rid of a progeny of nameless chimaeras, and free to let St. Matthew write as he is moved.’102 For Farrer and Goulder the power of their alternative hypothesis was precisely the fact that it did not only dispense with Q, but with all hypothetical sources. Apart from Old Testament citations, what was in Matthew but not in Mark was Matthew’s redactional creation, and what was in Luke that was neither in Mark or Matthew’s accounts was Luke’s redactional creation. Therefore, in many ways, Goodacre is forced to surrender this purity that the Farrer hypothesis presented as one of its key advantages. This is done in recognition of the phenomenon of alternating primitivity, since the claim that Luke always preserves the early form of double tradition material is simply not tenable. The consequence of this decision is recognised by Goodacre when he writes, ‘[s]ome Q sceptics feel a little uncomfortable with this scenario since it might at first sight appear to allow Q to creep in through the back door.’103 Here it is possible to agree with Goodacre, the synoptic data itself requires a space in the solution for traditions other than those contained in the synoptic gospels 101 102 103

Goodacre, Synoptic Problem, 138. Farrer, Dispensing, 86. Goodacre, Synoptic Problem, 138.

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alone to be part of the explanation of the interrelationships between the synoptic gospels. In this regard, the solution that Goodacre proposes is not the solution of Farrer and Goulder. No matter how large or how small, Goodacre’s synoptic solution requires a further source or sources of tradition to account for the more primitive forms of double tradition material that occur in Luke’s gospel. The more of these primitive double traditions that are identified in Luke, the more compelling becomes the case for a unified and written source for the double tradition rather than, to cite Farrer, proposing a plethora ‘of nameless chimaeras’ of oral tradition. Goodacre also draws upon the phenomenon of the minor agreements in two ways. First, he presents these textual details as a weak point of the Q hypothesis, and second, he views them as providing evidence for Luke’s knowledge of Matthew. He combines the different phenomena of the minor agreements, Mark-Q overlaps, and the double tradition material as examples that demonstrate Luke’s knowledge of Matthew. He represents this discrete data graphically as forming a continuum of ascending types of Lukan dependence on Matthean material.104 The graph he supplies is as follows:105 Pure Double Tradition

Greater

Influence from Matthew

Less

Triple Tradition Passages with Minor Agreements

Greater

Mark-Q Overlap

Influence from Mark

Less

Scale of Matthaean Influence on Luke

 

104

105

Mathematically it is questionable whether these three phenomena that are examples of discrete data should be represented graphically on a line graph that suggests continuous data and that there are elements in the data set that stand between, for instance, a MarkQ overlap and double tradition material. This, however, is simply a graphical misrepresentation of the type of data that is being presented. Goodacre, Synoptic Problem, 150.

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The heuristic value of the minor agreements as Goodacre understands them is that ‘they place a question mark over the hypothesis of Luke’s independence from Matthew. They constitute evidence that is anomalous for the two-source theory.’106 Both of these judgments are open to challenge. Goodacre rejects the approach of Q theorists to break these minor agreements into sub-categories that more accurately classify a range of different types of agreements between Matthew and Luke. Streeter was one of the earliest scholars to classify the minor agreements into different categories based on a more exact description of the literary phenomenon that was observed.107 While the enumeration of the minor agreements remains problematic, and depends on how one counts agreements (separate words or entire clauses), at a conservative estimate there are several hundred possible cases. Many of these agreements are stylistic, and it is easy to envisage independent authors making the same improvements to the somewhat rough Greek that one finds in Mark’s Gospel. In fairness to Goodacre, this is a point that he acknowledges and concedes: ‘so many of the minor agreements are explicable in terms of common sense and the redactional practices of Matthew and Luke.’108 Goodacre’s approach is to select three examples that he considers to be particularly strong in order to illustrate the evidential weight of the minor agreements in support of the thesis that Luke is using Matthew directly as a literary source. The first example is a detail taken from the triple tradition pericope concerning the Sadducees’ question about resurrection (Matt 22.23– 33//Mk 12.18–27//Lk 20.27–40). In terms of word length, the Greek form of the three pericopae are approximately the same length, with Luke showing a slight tendency to expand, due largely to the additional material in Lk 22.34b–35a, 40). The key detail that Goodacre presents as compelling can be represented following his synoptic tabulation: Matt 22.27 ὕστερον δὲ πάντων ἀπέθανεν ἡ γυνή.

Mk 12.22b ἔσχατον πάντων καὶ ἡ γυνὴ ἀπέθανεν.

Lk 20.32 ὕστερον καὶ ἡ γυνὴ ἀπέθανεν.

As is readily seen, the key agreement between Matthew and Luke is the substitution of the Markan term ἔσχατον ‘last’ with the term ὕστερον ‘later’. It should also be noted that Luke agrees with Mark in the order of the final four words καὶ ἡ γυνὴ ἀπέθανεν against Matthew, who does not employ the conjunction καί and re-orders the final three words as ἀπέθανεν ἡ γυνή. Moreover, Matthew agrees with Mark in the use of the adjective πάντων against Luke. So even with this short phrase there is a complex set of agreements and disagree106 107 108

Goodacre, Case Against Q, 168. Streeter, Four Gospels, 293–331. Goodacre, Case Against Q, 153.

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ments. For Goodacre, it is Matthew and Luke’s shared use of ὕστερον that is decisive. However, given the complex array of agreements and disagreements in this short phrase, one wonders whether so much weight can be loaded on to the shared use of the fairly common ὕστερον, even if it was a favoured Matthean term in other contexts.109 Its selection is probably a stylistic improvement to the Markan phrase. The second example that Goodacre utilises is the healing of the paralytic (Matt 9.2//Mk 2.3–5//Lk 5.18–20). The key piece of text that contains agreement between Matthew and Luke against Mark is as follows: Matt 9.2a καὶ ἰδοὺ προσέφερον αὐτῷ παραλυτικὸν ἐπὶ κλίνης βεβλημένον.

Mk 2.3 καὶ ἔρχονται φέροντες πρὸς αὐτὸν παραλυτικὸν αἰρόμενον ὑπὸ τεσσάρων.

Lk 5.18 καὶ ἰδοὺ ἄνδρες φέροντες ἐπὶ κλίνης ἄνθρωπον ὃς ἦν παραλελυμένος.

For Goodacre the combination of two agreements between Matthew and Luke, the shared use of the interjection ἰδού and common use of the prepositional phrase ἐπὶ κλίνης are together suggestive of Luke’s direct use of Matthew. Goodacre suggests that when Luke uses κλίνη elsewhere he consistently uses it in a manner that is more grandiose than being a mere pallet. He states in regard to Luke’s use that ‘Luke seems to think of a κλίνη (bed) as something raised off the ground because in 8:16, “No one lights a lamp and … puts it under a bed.”’110 However, Luke’s use in Lk 17.34 is more generic ‘there will be two in one bed’. The reality is that Luke does use the term κλίνη on only three occasions and in a variety of different ways to denote an item on which people could lie down. The Markan term κράβαττος is not used by Matthew or Luke anywhere in their gospel accounts (although it is used twice in Acts 5.15; 9.33). This simple explanation here appears to be the independent choice of a common word to replace a term that is less common. The final example is perhaps unsurprising. It is the most well-known of the minor agreements Matthew and Luke’s shared addition of the five word Greek phrase τίς ἐστιν ὁ παίσας σε; ‘who is it who struck you?’ (Matt 26.68//Lk 22.64). This is a key text for those who wish to argue for Luke’s dependence on Matthew. The points on both sides are well-known. In addition to Goodacre’s presentation of this case, others have provided detailed explanations for the occurrence of this phrase from the perspective of the two source theory.111 109

110 111

Goodacre notes that the term occurs seven times in Matthew’s gospel (Matt 4.2; 21.29, 32, 37; 22.27; 25.11; 26.60). See Goodacre, Case Against Q, 153. Goodacre, Case Against Q, 157. For instance see, Neirynck: ‘ΤΙΣ ΕΣΤΙΝ Ο ΠΑΙΣΑΣ ΣΕ, Matt 26.68 / Luke 22.64 (diff Mark 14.65)’, 5–47.

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Mark Goodacre has become the standard-bearer for the Farrer hypothesis, or, as he would prefer it to be known, the Mark without Q (MwQ) hypothesis. In many ways Goodacre’s success is due to a number of factors. First, he has jettisoned the implausible ideas that other proponents of theory suggested. Goodacre has rejected Goulder’s notion that lectionary theories are necessary to account for the redactional work of Luke and Matthew. Similarly, he has not adopted Drury’s notion that the middle section of Luke is a ‘Christian Deuteronomy’. Instead, Goodacre has pared the theory back to one that simply seeks to explain synoptic relationships without recourse to complex theories of liturgical motivations or compositional strategies. In this way, Goodacre’s work is a strong improvement on that of several of his predecessors. However, Goodacre has made one fundamental change to the articulation of the original form of the Farrer hypothesis that leads one to ask whether his own version of the theory actually remains aligned with what Farrer considered his theory to have achieved. Whereas Farrer could boast that his solution had rid the solution to the synoptic problem of recourse to any hypothetical sources,112 by contrast Goodacre admits that ‘it is scarcely a major leap of the imagination to see Luke occasionally bearing witness to more original sayings found in his literary source, Matthew.’113 While Goodacre asserts that these traditions are oral and not written, there is little reason to see why that must be the case. In the end Goodacre comes to the view that Luke uses Matthew, but that the synoptic problem cannot be solved completely with the set of traditions that are internal to Mark, Matthew and Luke. Goodacre acknowledges that any comprehensive and coherent synoptic solution must invoke other traditions that are external to the three synoptic gospels. This is a very different understanding, and consequently a different type of solution to the synoptic problem from the one proposed by Austin Farrer and his immediate successors.

5.

Proponents of Mark without Q – After Goodacre

Since the appearance of Goodacre’s various publications in defence of the synoptic solution, which advocate Markan priority, Luke’s use of Matthew, and Luke’s incorporation of traditions not found in either Matthew or Mark, when other scholars have declared support for the Mark without Q (MwQ) solution to the synoptic problem, it has most typically been advocacy of the formulation proposed by Goodacre, rather than a Farrer or Goulder form of the hypothesis. A number of scholars hold to this formulation of a synoptic solution. Further-

112 113

Farrer, Dispensing, 86. Goodacre, Synoptic Problem, 138.

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more, most, but not all, who have written in support have done so in short articles or essays.

5.1.

Questioning Q

Published in 2004, Questioning Q is a collection of essays produced shortly after the appearance of Goodacre’s three volumes on the MwQ solution to the synoptic problem.114 The volume comprises eleven essays, the final one being written by Goodacre as a reflection on his own views as well as offering a prospective on what New Testament studies might look like if his synoptic theory was widely adopted.115 On the whole these essays do not offer any particularly new arguments in favour of the MwQ hypothesis. Instead, they develop aspects of existing arguments in favour of that hypothesis, or seek to extend arguments against the two source theory. Mark Matson’s essay seeks to provide stronger reasons for what is according to the MwQ hypothesis Luke’s recasting of Matthew’s large sermon (Matt 5–7).116 Matson’s key argument is that Luke’s wider redactional strategies can reveal why the third evangelist would have handled Matthew’s sermon in the manner he did according to the MwQ hypothesis. Therefore, such an explanation results in ‘obviating the need for Q.’117 These are not entirely new arguments, since such explanations of Luke’s supposed redactional activity in regard to the Sermon on the Mount featuring prominently in the works of Farrer,118 Goulder,119 and Goodacre.120 However, Matson seeks to formulate his argument in a more robust manner. The purpose is to counter what is typically seen as one of the weaker aspects of the MwQ hypothesis – namely the implausibility of Luke’s redactional work if the evangelist had access to the Gospel of Matthew. Matson tackles this issue by seeking better explanations for Luke’s rearrangement of the Sermon on the Mount, which is widely seen as one of the more difficult texts for which to account, given the carefully structured and rhetorically successful way that Matthew has arranged the material in Matt 5–7. Similarly, Richard Vinson’s essay, which arises out of his doctoral at Duke University, returns to the problem of the minor agreements. Here he attempts to magnify the significance of an aspect of synoptic data that is widely considered problematic for the two source theory. The result that emerged in Vinson’s doctoral research for the enumeration of the minor agreements is 114 115 116 117 118 119 120

Goodacre and Perrin, Questioning Q. Goodacre, World Without Q, 174–179. Matson, Luke’s Rewriting, 43–70. Matson, Luke’s Rewriting, 67. Farrer, Dispensing, 63–65, 69. See Goulder, Luke, vol. 1, 346–376. Goodacre, Synoptic Problem, 126–127; Goodacre, Case Against Q, 105–120.

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stated in the following terms: ‘[w]hen I counted them according to the criteria I used in my dissertation, I came up with 3,785.’121 This is a classic argument that has been used in an attempt to problematise the two source theory. Vinson seeks to enlarge the significance of the minor agreements as a problem for the two source theory. In the end, as he acknowledges, both the definition of a ‘minor agreement’ and the definition of the method used to count them problematises the enumeration of such minor agreements. Therefore, Vinson’s essay highlights existing methodological issues surrounding the minor agreements, but it does not introduce any significantly new arguments in favour of the MwQ hypothesis. The value of the Questioning Q volume may in a way be best seen in the manner it reflects the range of support for the MwQ hypothesis. Apart from Goodacre, there are seven other contributors to the volume, some of whom were Goodacre’s doctoral students. The focus of the volume, as the title suggests, is on arguments for dispensing with Q. There is hardly any mention of Goodacre’s formulation of the aspect of the MwQ hypothesis that still requires Luke to incorporate source material other than that found in Mark and Matthew into the composition of his gospel.

5.2.

Oral Tradition

As has been seen, Goodacre does not adopt the absolutist position of Farrer and Goulder in regard to only allowing Luke to have access to traditions in Mark and Matthew (apart from the Jewish scriptures). Instead, Goodacre appeals to oral tradition as another source of Jesus material for the third evangelist. Another proponent of the Farrer hypothesis, Eric Eve, has written extensively on the role of oral tradition as a factor in the trajectory towards written gospels.122 Towards the end of his book, Eve has a brief section on the implications of oral tradition for source criticism. His comments are measured and balanced, and it is worth quoting them at length. There is nothing wrong with the suggestion that oral tradition may have influenced the Evangelists’ use of material also available to them in a written source; indeed, given the nature of the oral-scribal interface in antiquity this seems highly likely. The problem is rather with employing oral tradition as a epicycle on a source hypothesis fundamentally grounded in the assumptions of print culture, when what may be needed may be more of a Copernican revolution. … Whether such an exercise would end up supporting an existing source hypothesis or requiring the construction of a new one I am unable to predict.123

While Eve’s overall thesis on oral tradition cannot be assessed here, several things are noteworthy in this assessment. While being a supporter of the Farrer 121 122 123

Vinson, How Minor?, 151–164, here 154. Eve, Behind the Gospels. Eve, Behind the Gospels, 183–184.

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hypothesis, Eve is uncomfortable with an appeal to oral tradition being employed ‘as an epicycle’ to tie up the loose ends of what is a literary solution to the synoptic problem. His overall assessment is that if he is correct about orality, then that might destabilise the entire endeavour of finding neat solutions to the synoptic problem based on relationships of literary dependence.

5.3.

Francis Watson – Gospel Writing

In his 2013 monograph, Francis Watson provides one of the more recent attempts to resolve the synoptic problem along the lines of the Farrer or MwQ hypothesis.124 The discussion of the synoptic problem chiefly occurs in part two of this three part book.125 Watson recasts aspects of the Farrer hypothesis as reformulated by Goodacre, using his own terminology, sigla and modifications. In regard to the theory of Luke’s direct use of both Mark and Matthew, Watson makes the following observation: ‘After a chequered earlier history, this hypothesis has recently been compellingly restated by Mark Goodacre; for convenience, it will be designated the L/M (=Luke/Matthew) theory.’126 However, while being dependent on some aspects of Goodacre’s formulation of the MwQ hypothesis, Watson’s theory is no mere restatement of Goodacre’s views. Instead, while advocating Luke’s direct use of Mark and Matthew, Watson modifies the theory in new ways. Watson starts his discussion by attempting to undermine the Q hypothesis. Both as a rhetorical strategy and also in terms of the arguments employed there is little that is new here, although some of those arguments are stated with greater vigour. The next substantial part of Watson’s argument is to provide an account of Luke as an interpreter of the traditions with which he is working. Here there is a special focus on material seen to have been drawn from the Gospel of Matthew. Watson devotes considerable space to discussing the case of the Sermon on the Mount, no doubt in part because it is regularly seen as a challenge to theories that advocate Luke’s rewriting of Matthew.127 Here Watson’s main contribution is to see Luke as having a desire to form a new sayings collection ‘set against the backdrop of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem (Lk. 9.51–18.14).128 These are largely standard types of arguments in wider MwQ theories, although Watson adds several fresh points. In the next chapter Watson brings the Gospel of Thomas into the larger discussion as a means of formulating ideas about the shape of sayings collections 124 125 126 127 128

Watson, Gospel Writing. Watson, Gospel Writing, part two, 117–407. Watson, Gospel Writing, 118. Watson, Gospel Writing, 158–173. Watson, Gospel Writing, 169.

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in the early Jesus movement. Watson notes that the form of Thomas is different from that of the reconstructed Q document. From here a set of observations are advanced. First, Watson states that ‘[t]he Sayings Collection genre is independent of the narrative gospels.’129 From this perspective, Watson argues that the hypothetical and reconstructed document Q does not align with what is known of early sayings collections (SCs) since that reconstructed document contains narrative elements (the temptation story and the healing of the centurion’s servant), which do not fit the genre. Furthermore, Watson suggests that, Thomas, then, is the point of departure for an “SC hypothesis” that should replace the implausible Q hypothesis. GTh itself is best understood as descendant of the early SCs known from second century sources. The early SCs cannot be reconstructed as a whole; unlike Q, there can be no “critical edition.” Yet items in GTh with synoptic parallels can plausibly be traced back to presynoptic collections.130

Finally, and as a key point of departure from the arguments of Goodacre and Eve, Watson states that ‘[t]he SC hypothesis undermines the assumption that Jesus’ sayings passed through an extended period of oral transmission during which there was no perceived need for inscription.’131 Therefore, in common with Goodacre, Watson affirms Markan priority, Luke’s use of the Gospel of Matthew, and the need to allow for other streams of Jesus tradition to feed into the formation of the synoptic gospels. He deviates from Goodacre in two major ways. First, he gives a larger function to the role of a sayings collection in his solution to the synoptic problem. Second, he rejects the idea that this sayings collection reached the evangelists in oral form. These are key points of difference both from Goodacre’s views and from the earlier classic formulation of the Farrer hypothesis with its insistence that the synoptic problem could be solved without recourse to sources or material external to the synoptic gospels themselves. Moreover, it appears that for Watson the SC is used by both Mark and Matthew as the source for certain ‘parables and other sayings material.’132 Here there is a more fundamental issue. Goodacre permitted the possibility of Luke having access to oral tradition forms of certain double tradition saying precisely to overcome the problem of alternating primitivity. Here, however, Watson’s approach is more akin to Goulder. He claims in nearly every case the Matthean form is the more primitive version of double tradition parallel. Admittedly he does state that ‘the possibility that in some cases Luke restored the earlier form (perhaps influenced by alternative traditions) is not ruled out in principle.’133 However, while not ‘ruled out in principle’ one is left with the distinct impression that it is ruled out in practice. While Watson baulks 129 130 131 132 133

Watson, Gospel Writing, 272. Watson, Gospel Writing, 284. Watson, Gospel Writing, 285. Watson, Reply, 241. Watson, Gospel Writing, 162.

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at the idea of ‘alternating primitivity’, asserting that ‘Q makes it possible for the more primitive version of a saying to occur in either Matthew or in Luke’,134 that is a fundamental misrepresentation of the concept of ‘alternating primitivity.’ Instead it was the recognition that using a range of indicators it appears that at times the earlier form of a double tradition parallel could occur in either Matthew or Luke that necessitated looking for a theory that could account for such a phenomenon. By contrast, Watson’s approach is theory-driven. Having decided that Luke is dependent on Matthew, he is driven to demonstrate that Luke always has the later or less primitive form of a saying. Thus, theory is given precedence over the basic impressions that the actual synoptic data suggests. Additionally, it is unclear from where, according to Watson’s hypothesis, the unique Lukan material is derived. Is this all due to the creativity of the third evangelist, as Farrer and Goulder would have it, or does it derive from other oral sources, as Goodacre would allow, or even from one of Watson’s own hypothetical sayings collections? At this point explanations are not forthcoming. It is unsurprising that Watson’s new theory has occasioned challenge from both supporters of the two source theory and also from proponents of the Farrer or MwQ hypothesis. To both sets of scholars, Watson’s theory is ‘neither fish nor fowl’, and from both sides the observation is made (which it should be stated that Watson strongly rejects) that he has smuggled Q in through the back door, calling it SC rather than Q. Bauckham takes Watson to task for neglecting ground-breaking research on ancient compositional practice. He states, ‘evidence of the ways in which ancient authors used sources and the practicalities of composition has been applied to the study of the Gospels especially by Gerald Downing and Robert Derrenbacker, but their important contributions do not appear in Watson’s bibliography.’135 Goodacre offers a sympathetic reading, yet in the end he states ‘I regret I remain unpersuaded by Watson’s case.’136 Goodacre concedes that Watson ‘may be right that there were ancient sayings collections on which the Synoptic evangelists depended’, yet he continues by saying ‘the idea that we glimpse something of the genre in Thomas seems problematic.’137

134 135 136 137

Watson, Gospel Writing, 162. Bauckham, Normativization, here 24. Goodacre, Thomas, 80. Goodacre, Thomas, 80.

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123

Conclusions

The Farrer, or MwQ hypothesis has been in existence for more than a century as a proposed solution to the synoptic problem. Stated simply, it holds to the priority of Mark’s gospel and the claim that in addition to Mark’s gospel, the Gospel of Luke also used Matthew’s gospel as a source. For its supporters, the key advantage is that it dispenses with the hypothetical source Q. The theory was first articulated in a meaningful way by Edward Lummis in 1915. Whether due to timing – the appearance of Lummis’s small book coincides with the First World War –, or due to the intellectual climate – the two source theory was finding classic articulation through the work of Streeter and the Oxford seminar –, Lummis’ work gained little attention. Yet, although largely ignored, it gave a comprehensive statement of what was to become known as the Farrer hypothesis. It was not until forty years later, with the publication of Farrer’s influential essay, that this solution to the synoptic problem gained wider attention. Support for the Farrer hypothesis has always been most strong in Britain, having primarily been disseminated by scholars teaching, studying, or presenting lecture series at the University of Oxford. It would, however, be incorrect to represent this MwQ approach to the synoptic problem as being a unified hypothesis. Rather, supporters of the theory have stated various formulations of this broad synoptic solution. While it may ultimately be true that there are as many formulations of the MwQ hypothesis as there are proponents, notwithstanding this such proposals can be conveniently grouped without overly flattening the differences, or misrepresenting the views of individual scholars. For heuristic purposes, and setting aside the embryonic work of Lummis, the Farrer hypothesis can be understood as developing in two chronological phases and being formulated in three distinct ways. In terms of chronological evolution, the first phase was initiated through Farrer’s essay of 1955, it was continued with the extensive work of his student Michael Goulder,138 and also represented by the works of scholars such as John Drury and Eric Franklin.139 The second phase commenced with the published Oxford doctoral thesis of Mark Goodacre in 1996. This monograph offered a sympathetic but critical evaluation of Michael Goulder’s presentation of the Farrer hypothesis. The subsequent published works of Goodacre are perhaps the best representatives of this second phase of the Farrer hypothesis.140 Since then other scholars who hold to MwQ understandings of the synoptic problem have tended 138

139 140

The key work is Goulder’s two volume study and source-critical commentary Goulder, Luke, 2 vols. As listed previously: Drury, Tradition; Franklin, Luke. The two key works appear close together: Goodacre, Synoptic Problem; Case Against Q.

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to ground their work on the basis of Goodacre’s description of the theory, rather than fully embracing the perspectives of Farrer and Goulder. However, in this second phase there are distinct formulations of certain aspects of the MwQ hypothesis. Thus the second phase is perhaps less unified than the first phase of the Farrer or MwQ hypothesis. In terms of the formulation of the Farrer or MwQ hypothesis, three distinct forms of the hypothesis can be identified. The first is the classical statement presented by Farrer himself. Admittedly Goulder brought in other factors to explain the compositional motivations of both Matthew and Luke, but these factors did not materially alter the core elements of the hypothesis. The second form is best represented by the works of Mark Goodacre. The third form occurs in the publications of Francis Watson. These three forms may be described as follows: The Classic Version of the Farrer Hypothesis Markan Priority. Matthew writes with only Mark’s gospel before him. Luke writes last among the synoptic evangelists. The only external traditions used by Matthew and Luke are the Jewish scriptures. Any additional material in Matthew that is not paralleled in Mark or the Jewish scriptures is due to the evangelist’s redactional creativity. Similarly, Luke uses Mark, Matthew, and the Jewish scriptures. Any additional material in Luke that is not paralleled in Mark, Matthew, or the Jewish scriptures is due to the evangelist’s redactional creativity. Goodacre’s Version of the MwQ Hypothesis Markan Priority. Matthew writes with Mark’s gospel before him. Luke writes last among the synoptic evangelists. Goodacre notes the challenge of alternating primitivity – that is, on several occasions Luke appears to have the earlier form of a double tradition saying or parable. To account for this, Goodacre suggests that Luke had access to an oral tradition form of such material and used this in preference to the Matthean form. It also appears that Goodacre allows the possibility of some of the Sondergut or unique Matthean or Lukan material to be derived from oral tradition, rather than being exclusively due to the redactional handiwork of the later synoptic evangelists. Watson’s Version of the MwQ Hypothesis Markan Priority. Matthew writes with Mark’s gospel before him. Luke writes last among the synoptic evangelists. Additionally both Mark and Matthew derive various sayings and parables contained in their gospels from an early written sayings collection (SC). This is a primitive form of the genre seen in the Gospel of Thomas. It has no narrative elements and hence is not like the reconstructed Q document which contains the temptation story and the account of the healing of the centurion’s servant. The origin of Lukan Sondergut material remains

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unclear, and this hypothesis basically rejects the phenomenon of alternating primitivity, instead stating that ‘the Matthean form is normally earlier.’141

6.1. Final Remarks One of the key claims of the classic version Farrer hypothesis was the absolute assertion that it meant that one did not need to posit any hypothetical sources and that all traditions were derived internally among the synoptic gospels and from the evangelist’s own creativity. As Farrer stated with full rhetorical flourish, ‘[o]nce rid of Q, we are rid of a progeny of nameless chimaeras, and free to let St. Matthew write as he is moved.’142 The same was argued to be true of Luke. By contrast, the two later formulations see that the synoptic data itself requires the existence of input from sources of tradition external to the synoptic gospels to account for the material that is present in those narratives. Goodacre primarily allows this possibility in order to deal with cases of Lukan primitivity in double tradition material where it is implausible to suggest that Luke’s more primitive version can be explained as arising from the redactional concerns of the third evangelist. For Goodacre, such traditions came to Luke through various oral channels and not as written sources. Therefore, like Farrer and Goulder,143 Goodacre will not permit any additional written sources.144 The additional sources must be oral in form. However, in distinction from Farrer and Goulder, Goodacre does not hold to the view that the relationship between the material contained within the three synoptic gospels can be explained purely on the supposition of internal and sequential developments from Mark’s original composition with no further external traditions feeding into either the Gospel of Matthew or the Gospel of Luke. By contrast, Francis Watson goes much further than his compatriots among MwQ proponents in permitting external material to feature as part of his solution. Watson argues for a written and extensive sayings collection (SC) that existed prior to Mark and Matthew. This was a porous document, so Mark and Matthew (and the Gospel of Thomas) might have accessed different versions of this written document. Interestingly, Watson does not posit that Luke had access to this document – despite Luke declaring his knowledge of the work of several predecessors (Lk 1.1–4). The reasons for this are unclear. Perhaps a theory that had Matthew and Luke sharing a common, but no longer extant source of Jesus 141 142 143

144

Watson, Gospel Writing, 162. Farrer, Dispensing, 86. As cited in the body of this essay, Goulder explicitly rejects the notion of any external sources of Jesus tradition being employed by Matthew or Luke: ‘I have found no considerable passage in the Gospel which seemed to require a written or an oral source.’ Goulder, Midrash, 474. Goodacre, Synoptic Problem, 138.

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traditions other than Mark might have sounded just a little too much like another synoptic theory. Instead, as it appears on Watson’s formulation, Luke works almost exclusively with Mark and Matthew, as well as with the Jewish scriptures. It is perhaps unsurprising that Watson’s theory has been subject to rigorous challenge from both other proponents of the MwQ hypothesis as well as from those who hold to the two source theory. On both sides, scholars view Watson as having posited something remarkably similar to Q. It should be noted that this is a charge that Watson vigorously refutes. However, his interlocutors have considered this refutation to be unconvincing. From their perspective, he has simply given his hypothetical sayings collection the siglum SC, rather than Q, and said that Luke did not have access to this collection – whereas nearly every other gospel writer (both of canonical and non-canonical accounts) seems to have been heavily indebted to it. So far Watson’s theory has not generated support. Ultimately when discussing the Farrer or MwQ hypothesis, one is discussing a range of different formulations of the basic idea that Luke knew and used Matthew directly, and thus that this means the hypothetical Q source is no longer required. It is interesting that both of the two more recent formulations of the MwQ hypothesis, through close consideration of the synoptic data, have come to a realisation that the material in the synoptic gospels cannot be explained simply as the development of the Markan account without external material feeding into Matthew and Luke either as a number of discrete oral sources, or as a unified and fairly substantial sayings collection. For those who hold to the two source theory, it was precisely this consideration of additional shared traditions in Matthew and Luke which led to the formulation of a hypothesis of a second source. It appears that more recent formulations of the MwQ hypothesis are drawing it closer to the two source theory, in comparison with the classic formulation of the Farrer hypothesis. However, an even larger challenge may be on the horizon for the Farrer hypothesis – that is the argument that Matthew was the last or posterior of the synoptic gospels, rather than Luke. This has largely been a case that supporters of the Farrer hypothesis have not been willing to entertain previously.145 However, given the energy with which 145

This challenge was raised in Foster, Possible, 313–337, on Matthean Posteriority see 333– 336. In conversation, Goodacre’s response to this challenge was that he did not need to consider this alternative since he already had found the correct solution! In print Goodacre’s response is equally dismissive: ‘The theory that Matthew has read Luke … is rarely put forward by sensible scholars and will not be considered here.’ Goodacre, The Synoptic Problem, 108. In fairness, nobody can look at every proposed solution to the synoptic problem. However, when the Matthean posteriority position so closely mirrors the Farrer hypothesis it is surprising that proponents of the Farrer hypothesis have been so reticent to provide reasons why it is false. For two source theorists, alternating primitivity remains the key argument for the independence of Matthew and Luke, but several supporters of the two source theory would be open to entertaining the idea that Matthew was written later than Luke, but independently of the third gospel.

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that possibility is being advanced,146 and gaining some support,147 the theory of Matthean posteriority will demand a response to show why it is any less viable than the case for Lukan posteriority.148 However, that might be a discussion that is best considered in another decade or two, when one is able to survey any changes in the discussions around the solutions to the synoptic problem.

Bibliography Bauckham, R. B., Gospels Before Normativization: A Critique of Francis Watson’s Gospel Writing, in: C. S. Hamilton/J. Willitts (ed.), Writing the Gospels: A Dialogue with Francis Watson (LNTS 606), London 2019, 17–39 Derrenbacker, R. A., Ancient Compositional Practices and the Synoptic Problem (BETL 186), Leuven 2005. Drury, J., Tradition and Design in Luke’s Gospel: A Study in Early Christian Historiography, London 1976. Evans, C. F., The Central Section of St Luke’s Gospel, in: D. E. Nineham (ed.), Studies in the Gospels: Essays in Memory of R. H. Lightfoot, Oxford 1955, 37–53. Evans, C. F., Saint Luke, London 1990. Eve, E., Behind the Gospels: Understanding the Oral Tradition. London 2013. Farmer, W. R., The Synoptic Problem: A Critical Analysis, London 1964. Farrer, A., On Dispensing with Q, in: D. E. Nineham (ed.), Studies in the Gospels: Essays in Memory of R. H. Lightfoot, Oxford 1955, 55–88. Foster, P., Is it Possible to Dispense with Q?, in: NovT 45 (2003), 313–337. Foster, P., The Doublets in Matthew: What are they Good For?, in: J. Verheyden/G. Van Belle (ed.), An Early Reader of Mark and Q (BiTS 21), Leuven 2016, 109–138. Foster, P., The Rise of the Markan Priority Hypothesis and Early Response and Challenges to It, in: J. Verheyden/J. S. Kloppenborg (ed.), The Eternal Problem: Revisiting the Issues at Stake in the Research on the Synoptic Problem – Old and New, forthcoming. Foster, P., The Minor Sources and their Role in the Synoptic Problem, in: S. Ahearne-Kroll (ed.), The Oxford Handbook of the Synoptic Gospels, Oxford 2020. Franklin, E., Luke: Interpreter of Paul, Critic of Matthew (JSNTSS 92), Sheffield 1994. Funk, R. W., Hoover, R. W. and the Jesus Seminar (ed.), The Five Gospels: The Search for the Authentic Words of Jesus, New York 1993. Garrow, A., Streeter’s “Other” Synoptic Solution: The Matthew Conflator Hypothesis, in: NTS 62 (2016), 207–226. Goodacre, M. S., Goulder and the Gospels: An Examination of a New Paradigm (JSNTSS 133), Sheffield 1996. Goodacre, M. S., The Synoptic Problem: A Way Through the Maze, (The Biblical Seminar 80), London 2001. Goodacre, M. S., The Case Against Q: Studies in Markan Priority and the Synoptic Problem, Harrisburg, PA 2002. 146 147

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Garrow, Conflator Hypothesis, 207–226. In a comment on Alan Garrow’s blog post on 26 October 2018, Richard Bauckham stated his support of the hypothesis that Matthew made use of Luke’s Gospel as a source. See https://www.alangarrow.com/blog/sblaardvent-calendar-day-4 (accessed 17 April 2019). MacEwen, Matthean Posteriority.

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Goodacre, M. S., A World Without Q, in: M. S. Goodacre/N. Perrin (ed), Questioning Q, London 2004, 174–179. Goodacre, M. S., What Does Thomas Have to Do with Q?, in: C. S. Hamilton/J. Willitts (ed), Writing the Gospels: A Dialogue with Francis Watson (LNTS 606), London 2019, 81–89. Goodacre, M. S., Perrin, N. (ed.), Questioning Q, London 2004. Goulder, M. D., Midrash and Lection in Matthew, London 1974. Goulder, M. D., The Evangelists’ Calendar: A Lectionary Explanation of the Development of Scripture, London 1978. Goulder, M. D., Luke: A New Paradigm, 2 vols (JSNTSS 20), Sheffield 1989. Goulder, M. D., Is Q a Juggernaut?, in: JBL 115 (1996), 667–681. Harnack, A., Sprüche und Reden Jesu: Die zweite Quelle des Matthäus und Lukas, Leipzig 1907. Eng. trans.: The Sayings of Jesus, London/New York 1908. Holtzmann, H., Lehrbuch der historisch-kritischen Einleitung in des Neue Testament, Freiburg/Br. 2 1886. Jameson, H. G., The Origin of the Synoptic Gospel, Oxford 1922. Lummis, E., How Luke Was Written, Cambridge 1915. Matson, M. A., Luke’s Rewriting of the Sermon on the Mount, in: M. S. Goodacre/N. Perrin (ed.), Questioning Q, London 2004, 43–70. MacEwen, R. K., Matthean Posteriority: An Exploration of Matthew’s Use of Mark and Luke as a Soultion to the Synoptic Problem (LNTS 501), London 2015. Neirynck, F, ΤΙΣ ΕΣΤΙΝ Ο ΠΑΙΣΑΣ ΣΕ, Matt 26.68 / Luke 22.64 (diff Mark 14.65), in: ETL 63 (1987), 5– 47. Ropes, J. H., The Synoptic Gospels, Cambridge, Mass. 1934. Shellard, B., New Light on Luke: Its Purpose, Sources and Literary Context (JSNTSS 215), Sheffield 2002. Simons, E., Hat der dritte Evangelist den kanonischen Matthäus benutzt?, Bonn 1880. Streeter, B. H., The Four Gospels: A Study in Origins – Treating of the Manuscript Tradition, Sources, Authorship and Dates, London 1924. Taylor, V., Behind the Third Gospel: A Study of the Proto-Luke Hypothesis, Oxford 1926. Verheyden, J., Proto-Luke, and What Can Possibly be Made of It, in: P. Foster/A. Gregory/J. S. Kloppenborg/J. Verheyden (ed.), New Studies in the Synoptic Problem: Oxford Conference, April 2008 – Essays in Honour of Christopher M. Tuckett, Leuven 2011, 617–654. Vinson, R., How Minor? Assessing the Significance of the Minor Agreements as an Argument against the Two-Source Hypothesis, in: M. S. Goodacre/N. Perrin (ed.), Questioning Q, London 2004,151– 164. Watson, F., Gospel Writing: A Canonical Perspective, Grand Rapids 2013. Watson, F., A Reply to my Critics, in: C. S. Hamilton/J. Willitts (ed.), Writing the Gospels: A Dialogue with Francis Watson (LNTS 606), London 2019, 227–248. Wright, A., A Synopsis of the Gospels in Greek: With Various Readings and Critical Notes, London 1906.

The Investment of Roman Catholics in the 2DH and Q Markus Tiwald

1.

Historical Survey

In the wake of the Enlightenment, historical-critical research had become a major challenge to Christian traditions, e.g., the belief in Jesus’ divinity and his divinely ordained mission. The great German author Goethe wrote in his “Faust” (1808) that Jesus’ miracles are seen by some as “the beloved child of faith” (“des Glaubens liebstes Kind”)1, maintaining that the church exploits the miracles as a divinely established “proof” of Jesus’ divinity. In accordance with such ideas, in 1870 the First Vatican Council declared that Jesus’ miracles were “sure signs of divine revelation and adapted to everyone’s perception” (“divinae revelationis signa sunt certissima et omnium intelligentiae accomodata”2). Nevertheless, the “beloved child of faith” had already transformed into a “problem child” of incredulity towards biblical miracle stories. While the Catholic Church at the time adhered to a complete obstructionism towards modern exegesis, the Protestant Church struggled with liberal interpretations of Jesus traditions. Hermann Samuel Reimarus (1694–1768)3 had developed critical ideas in his Apologie oder Schutzschrift für die vernünftigen Verehrer Gottes which he nevertheless did not dare to publish. It was none other than Gotthold Ephraim Lessing (1729–1781) who published excerpts of Reimarus’ work (without naming the author) in three parts (1774, 1777 und 1778) as Fragmente eines Ungenannten, thus prompting the so called ‘Fragmentenstreit’. Historical records of the Bible could, according to Lessing via Reimarus, no longer be counted as proof of trans-temporal truths of reason: “zufällige Geschichtswahrheiten können der Beweis von nothwendigen Vernunftswahrheiten nie werden”.4 Accordingly, a trans-temporal religion of reason (“Vernunftreligion”) does not need any historical foundation. This is the often quoted “garstige breite

1

2 3

4

“Das Wunder ist des Glaubens liebstes Kind”, Goethe, Faust. Der Tragödie erster Teil, 1808 (Nacht, Faust mit sich allein). Cf. the Dogmatic Constitution “Dei Filius”, chapter 3 (DH 3009). Concerning Reimarus and the ideas of Enlightenment behind his thoughts, cf. Groetsch, Reimarus, passim. Lessing, Ueber den Beweis des Geistes und der Kraft (1777), 5.

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Graben”5 (the “terrible trench”) of Lessing, which in his opinion separates faith from history. Thus, the beginnings of ‘historical-critical exegesis’ were remarkably opposed to historicity! In the wake of the ‘Fragmentenstreit’, Johann Gottfried Eichhorn (1752–1827: Über die drey ersten Evangelien, 1794)6 and Johann Gottfried Herder (1744–1803, Vom Erlöser der Menschen, 1796)7 tried to defend the historical authenticity of the Gospels by referring to a written (Eichhorn) or oral (Herder) Urgospel. When Karl Lachmann in 1835 (De ordine narrationum in evangeliis synopticis) dethroned Matthean priority by the Gospel of Mark, the old assumption of an apostolic authority behind the Gospels was no longer feasible: if Matthew had drawn from the Gospel of Mark then he certainly was not the eye-witness and apostle he was previously taken for. The lack of direct eyewitnesses in the Gospel tradition created many confusions and fears. This seems quite understandable, since the idea of apostolic authority dates back to Papias, who tried to see the Aramaic sermons of Peter preserved in the Gospel of Mark and the assumed Aramaic prototype of the Gospel of Matthew as a guarantee for apostolic legitimacy.8 Such ideas were further developed by Origen,9 who was the first writer to explicitly underline Matthean priority as a proof for apostolic authenticity. Somewhat later, Augustine10 in De consensu evangelistarum claimed that only the eyewitness of the apostles creates authenticity: Cuius primi praedicatores Apostoli fuerunt, qui Dominum ipsum et Salvatorem nostrum Iesum Christum etiam praesentem in carne viderunt, cuius non solum ea quae ex ore eius audita vel ab illo sub oculis suis operata, dicta et facta meminerant (1,1,1). His explanations are directed against apocryphal concurrence: Ceteri autem homines, qui de Domini vel de Apostolorum actibus aliqua scribere conati vel ausi sunt … scriptis suis quaedam fallaciter indiderunt, quae catholica atque apostolica regula fidei et sana doctrina condemnat (1,1,2). Thus, also in the Gospel writing the two assumed eyewitnesses Matthew and John had to sustain the two non-eyewitnesses Mark and Luke in some sort of “sandwich-position”: ex numero eorum quos ante passionem Dominus elegit, primum atque ultimum locum duo tenuerunt, primum Matthaeus, ultimum Ioannes: ut relinqui duo qui ex illo numero non errant … tamquam filii amplectendi ac per hoc in loco medio constituti utroque ab eis latere munirentur (1,2,3). This seemingly 5 6

7

8 9

10

Lessing, Ueber den Beweis des Geistes und der Kraft (1777), 7. Concerning Eichhorn, see Mulzer, Art. Eichhorn, passim. Eichhorn presupposes a special source for Matthew and Luke – an idea that later on could develop into the assumption of the Sayings Source Q. Concerning Herder, see Frey, Herder, 47–91. For Herder’s apologetical tendencies, cf. “Wider die Evangelisten und den Helden derselben ist so viel geredet und geschrieben, daß eine Erzählung davon selbst ein langes Anti-Evangelium würde.” (Vom Erlöser der Menschen, 185). Cf. Körtner, Papiasfragmente, 9–49, especially 39. Cf. Origen’s commentary on the Gospel of Matthew (Eusebius HE 6,25,4): ὅτι πρῶτον μὲν γέγραπται τὸ κατὰ τόν ποτε τελώνην, ὕστερον δὲ ἀπόστολον Ἰησοῦ Χριστοῦ Ματθαῖον. Cf. Augustin, De consensu evangelistarum, 1,2,3: “primus Matthaeus, deinde Marcus, tertio Lucas, ultimo Ioannes.”

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conclusive line of argumentation has been a core feature in the reasoning of the Catholic Church: the presupposed unbroken line, starting with the eyewitnesses of Jesus’ miracles (as proof of his messianity) and extending until the apostles’ writing their Gospels and ordaining bishops, established the sustained “unbroken” order of the Church’s tracing itself back to apostolic roots. This line of argument was seen as the ultimate backstop against so called “modernism”, and was also operative in defending Catholic doctrine against Protestantism. The Tridentine Council had elucidated the flow of traditions in the following way:11 … hanc veritatem et disciplinam contineri in libris scriptis et sine scripto traditionibus, quae ab ipsius Christi ore ab Apostolis acceptatae, aut ab ipsis Apostolis Spiritu Sancto dicante quasi per manus traditae ad nos usque pervenerunt …

By insisting on sine scripto traditionibus, the Council intended to defend traditions (e.g., the number of seven sacraments) that cannot be found in the Bible and were therefore criticised by Martin Luther. Nevertheless, so the reasoning of the Council went, these rules were orally ordained by Jesus himself (sine scripto traditionibus, quae ab ipsius Christi ore ab Apostolis acceptatae) and handed down in an unbroken line of faithful tradition. This certainly reflects the rule of Vincent of Lérins († before 450): quod ubique, quod semper, quod ab omnibus creditum est (Commonitorium 2,3). The phrase from the Tridentine Council was also repeated in Vatican I12 – now no longer directed against Protestants but against “modernists”. The risks at stake in accepting modern criticism were perfectly brought home by Jonathan Swift (An Argument Against Abolishing Christianity, 1708): … and therefore, the Freethinkers consider it [sc. the Christian faith] as a sort of edifice, wherein all the parts have such a mutual dependence on each other, that if you happen to pull out one single nail, the whole fabric must fall to the ground.

Even if Swift is defending the Anglican Church here, this line of argument also applies to Catholicism, and highlights the fears of Church authorities that by giving in only one single step, one might bring the whole system down. Thus, the encyclical Providentissimus Deus (1893, Pope Leo XIII) defended the absolute inerrancy of scripture (divinas Litteras … ab omni omnino errore esse immunes13) and verbal inspiration (ab ipso Spiritu dictati) against “a certain newly-invented free science” (novae cuiusdam scientiae liberae) and against “the new sciences, falsely so called” (novae falsi nominis scientiae). Shortly after this encyclical, in 1910 Pope Pius X issued the Sacrorum antistitum, a solemn oath against modernism. This

11 12 13

Council of Trient, De Traditionibus Recipendis, 8th of April 1546 (DH 1501). Dogmatic Constitution Dei Filius, chapter 2 (DH 3006). As Providentissimus Deus has no division in paragraphs or verses, no detailed citation can be given.

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oath remained in force until 1967, the time after the Second Vatican Council. The passage about Holy Scripture reads:14 Likewise, I reject that method of judging and interpreting Sacred Scripture, which, departing from the tradition of the Church, the analogy of faith, and the norms of the Apostolic See, embraces the misrepresentations of the rationalists and with no prudence or restraint adopts textual criticism15 as the one and supreme norm.

In this context, the Pontifical Biblical Commission played an important role. In self-formulated questions addressed to themselves, they condemned the results of the modern 2DH. In the statement of 26th of June 1912 we read (DH 3578): Questio: Utrum ea quae superius statuta sunt, ii servare censeri debeant, qui, nullo fulti traditionis testimonio nec historico argumento, facile amplectuntur hypothesim vulgo duorum fontium nuncupatam, quae compositionem Evangelii graeci Matthaei et Evangelii Lucae ex eorum potissimum dependentia ab Evangelio Marci et a collectione sic dicta sermonum Domini contendit explicare; ac proinde eam libere propugnare valeant? Responsa: Negative ad utramque partem.

In the formulation regarding those who “embrace the commonly so called hypothesis of two sources” (amplectuntur hypothesim vulgo duorum fontium nuncupatam), one can feel the horror of naming the abominated hypothesis. The response Negative ad utramque partem (“negative in both parts”) firstly rejects the 2DH and secondly the dependence of Matthew and Luke a collectione sic dicta sermonum Domini (“on a so called collection of sermons of the Lord”, i.e. the Sayings Source). Here too the formulation “sic dicta” expresses the distance of the authors form such modernist and fancy constructions. In the midst of World War II, in 1943 Pope Pius XII announced (fifty years after Providentissimus Deus) the encyclical Divino Afflante Spiritu.16 Here, a more optimistic stance towards modern exegesis is taken by underscoring a certain bipolarity – the teaching authority of the official church and modern sciences should cooperate: … ut subsidiis historiae, archaeologiae, ethnologiae aliarumque disciplinarum rite adiutus (§ 398). Nevertheless, the main focus of this encyclical was on the Old Testament and not so much on New Testament exegesis. Specifically, the creation of the world in Genesis (§ 396) no longer had to be interpreted as a face-value narrative of historical facts. Catholic scholars now had the permission to detect the dicendi forma seu litterarum genus (§ 399) behind such texts. Nevertheless, New Testament traditions remained for the most part untouched by the concessions of this encyclical. On the thorny question of 14 15

16

DS 3546. The oath uses “textual criticism” erroneously for all forms of historical-critical exegesis. The seemingly abominated expression “historical-critical method” was used no earlier than 1993 (!) in an official document of church doctrine – the document The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church, presented by the Pontifical Biblical Commission to Pope John Paul II on April 23, 1993. As the original text of the encyclical has no division into paragraphs or verses, the quotation follows Rohrbasser, A., Heilslehre der Kirche, Freiburg i. Ü. 1953, 210–240.

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inspiration, Divino Afflante Spiritu opens up slightly by quoting Thomas Aquinas (§ 398), “In Scripture divine things are presented to us in the manner which is in common use amongst men” (Comment. ad Hebr. c. 1, lect. 4), Thus, “… the inspired writer, in composing the sacred book, is the living and reasonable instrument of the Holy Spirit … impelled by the divine motion, he so uses his faculties and powers, that from the book composed by him all may easily infer the special character of each one and, as it were, his personal traits.” Nevertheless, the real breakthrough came only with the Second Vatican Council, which lasted from 1962–1965. The council’s declaration Dei Verbum dates from 1965, but the text had a long genesis, spanning the full period of the council.17 The first version discussed in the plenum (= version C, A and B were mere drafts) dates from 1962. The text was formulated by extremely conservative groups who opposed reforms, which led to a fierce protest in the plenum. The document read: Ex hac divinae Inspirationis extensionae ad omnia, directe et necessario sequitir immunitas absoluta ab errore totius Sacrae Scripturae. Antiqua enim et constanti Ecclesiae fide edocemur nefas omnio esse concedere sacrum ipsum errasse scriptorem, cum divina Inspiratio per se ipsam tam necessario excludat et respuat errorem omnem in qualibet re religiosa vel profana, quam necessarium est Deum summam Veritatem, nullius omnio erroris auctorem esse. From this extension of divine inspiration to all things, it follows directly and necessarily that there is absolute immunity of the whole Sacred Scripture from error. For we are taught by the ancient and constant belief of the Church that it is altogether wrong to accept that Sacred Scripture itself has erred, since divine inspiration of itself necessarily excludes and rejects all error in religious or secular matters, as God is indisputably the Supreme Truth, who cannot be the author of any error. 18

Here inerrancy is extended “ad omnia … religiosa vel profana” – not only is religious truth stipulated but also scientific truth eliminated (e.g., creation of the world in seven days, etc.). Thus, the text is regressive even compared to Divino Afflante Spritu of Pius XII. In the following discussion, Cardinal König from Vienna/Austria underscored that such concepts would not safeguard the authority of Holy Scriptures as much as exposing the Church to ridicule. Nevertheless, it was no earlier than version F in November 1965 (shortly before the end of the council) that a completely reworked document found approval. In the meantime, Pope Paul VI had already published his apostolic instruction Sancta Mater Ecclesia (1964). This document mentions the tria tempora traditionis (DH 4404): Christus Dominus (DH 4404) – Apostoli (DH 4405) – auctores sacri (DH 4406). The “sacred authors” according to this text had written their books non ad litteram, sensu tamen retento, diversimodo (“not literally but differently, only preserving the sense”). This idea underlines a new definition of Biblical 17

18

For the following, cf. Semmelroth/Zerwick, Wort, 10–11, 28–34, and Grillmeier, Kommentar, 528–537. Translation MT.

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inspiration and inerrancy: No eyewitnesses had written the text, rather a certain development has to be taken into account. This finds a match in the final version of Dei Verbum in 1965 (§ 11): Cum ergo omne id, quod auctores inspirati seu hagiographi asserunt, retineri debeat assertum a Spiritu Sancto, inde Scripturae libri veritatem, quam Deus nostrae salutis causa Litteris Sacris consignari voluit, firmiter, fideliter et sine errore docere profitendi sunt.

Here we read that inerrancy only applies to the truth concerning our salvation and not to scientific matters (e.g., the creation of the world in seven days): veritatem, quam Deus nostrae salutis causa Litteris Sacris consignari voluit – “that truth which God wanted put into sacred writings for the sake of salvation”. The document in § 12 also acknowledged the freedom of scholarly research: Cum autem Deus in Sacra Scriptura per homines more hominum locutus sit, interpres Sacrae Scripturae, ut perspiciat, quid Ipse nobiscum communicare voluerit, attente investigare debet, quid hagiographi reapse significare intenderint et eorum verbis manifestare Deo placuerit. Ad hagiographorum intentionem eruendam inter alia etiam genera litteraria respicienda sunt. Aliter enim atque aliter veritas in textibus vario modo historicis, vel propheticis, vel poeticis, vel in aliis dicendi generibus proponitur et exprimitur. Oportet porro ut interpres sensum inquirat, quem in determinatis adiunctis hagiographus, pro sui temporis et suae culturae condicione, ope generum litterariorum illo tempore adhibitorum exprimere intenderit et expresserit. Ad recte enim intelligendum id quod sacer auctor scripto asserere voluerit, rite attendendum est tum ad suetos illos nativos sentiendi, dicendi, narrandive modos, qui temporibus hagiographi vigebant, tum ad illos qui illo aevo in mutuo hominum commercio passim adhiberi solebant. However, since God speaks in Sacred Scripture through men in human fashion, the interpreter of Sacred Scripture, in order to see clearly what God wanted to communicate to us, should carefully investigate what meaning the sacred writers really intended, and what God wanted to manifest by means of their words. To search out the intention of the sacred writers, attention should be given, among other things, to “literary forms.” For truth is set forth and expressed differently in texts which are variously historical, prophetic, poetic, or of other forms of discourse. The interpreter must investigate what meaning the sacred writer intended to express and actually did express in particular circumstances by using contemporary literary forms in accordance with the situation of his own time and culture. For the correct understanding of what the sacred author wanted to assert, due attention must be paid to the customary and characteristic styles of feeling, speaking and narrating which prevailed at the time of the sacred writer, and to the patterns men normally employed at that period in their everyday dealings with one another.

2.

The Time after the Second Vatican Council

In the time after Vatican II, Catholic scholars had a big backlog demand in the area of biblical exegesis. They certainly had been allowed to do background research on sociological matters concerning early oriental research, but they

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still had had no chance in extending conclusions from these studies to the sociology of the Jesus movement. These restrictions had now been removed – at least partially. The experience of a very narrow corridor of freedom in research and theology was not only formative for this generation but also remained in effect for the generations to come. One certainly is not mistaken if one reads the results of those times’ exegetes against the backdrop of temporary fashions and trends. The generations after 1968 certainly had a strong desire for independence and freedom in speech and lifestyle. The same patterns were operative in the church too – likewise within Catholicism and Protestantism. Thus, to a certain degree, the depiction of Jesus and the primitive church has continuously (and not only in those times!) followed cultural projections. This generally is not abhorrent in itself, but scholars are well advised to reflect on such projections. So, e.g., the concepts of itinerant radicalism forwarded by Gerd Theißen in 1972 were dismissed as a mere projection of the spirit of the 1968generation.19 I would venture that this criticism was overdrawn in two ways: Firstly, it is a truism that we are all subject to our own projections. This certainly should caution against drawing too far-reaching conclusions, but it should not lead to an epistemological scepticism preventing us from drawing conclusions at all. Secondly, projections do not necessarily have to be unequivocally wrong. It might in fact prove helpful to draw parallels between modern times and the times of Jesus. Genetically, humankind has not changed much in 2000 years. Sociological trends and fashions basically have remained the same, if only in another argumentative disguise. Respecting the caveat of self-critique, such approaches might be legitimate – besides the fact that we have no alternatives if we do not wish to renounce historical reconstruction altogether. The following attempts might be understood with these preliminary cautions in mind.

3.

Catholic Projections on the Sayings Source

Over the last few years, I have been asked repeatedly by J. Kloppenborg and G. Theißen why currently so many Catholic scholars are specializing in the reconstruction of the Sayings Source. I think – at least from my perspective – that the wish for an open-minded church with fraternal social structures certainly was operative here. When Martin Ebner (also a Catholic Q-scholar) at a conference in Berlin presented his book Die Stadt als Lebensraum der ersten Christen: Konturen des Urchristentums (2012), the question popped up if the formulation “Ur-Christentum” might not be insinuating “unbroken originality”. 19

Cf. Theißen’s response to such critiques in Theißen, Wandercharismatiker, especially 106–107.

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Indeed, it was Stefan Alkier who had suggested that the German prefix “Ur-” indicates an uncritical glorification of the church origins that now anachronistically is put in juxtaposition to present church structures. Models of the present church are thus justified or condemned by advocating that they are in accordance or discordance with the “Urchristentum”.20 Exactly in this way, Johann Bernhard Basedow (1723–1790),21 a friend of Reimarus, had used the term “Urchristentum” in his critical counterposition against protestant church orthodoxy. For him, “Urchristentum” indicates the original intention of Jesus and his apostles, which according to his view has been distorted by the official church. Since Alkier’s caveat, a fierce debate has raged as to whether the further use of “Urchristentum” should be permitted.22 Behind the debate hides the more fundamental question as to whether history can be reconstructed (at least partly) and referred to as a role model. Especially the Sayings Source Q seems to have attracted scholars – Protestants as well as Catholics – to use the traditions preserved in Q as a recourse to a seemingly “authentic Jesus”. Thus, Adolf von Harnack had already used the Sayings Source to defend the historicity of the Jesus tradition, after William Wrede in Das Messiasgeheimnis in den Evangelien (1901) had dethroned the Gospel of Mark as a guarantee for the authentic Jesus by highlighting the redactional tendencies in the second Gospel and concluding that the author had no insight into the life of the historical Jesus (“Markus hat keine wirkliche Anschauung mehr vom geschichtlichen Leben Jesu”, p. 129). In response, Harnack in Sprüche und Reden Jesu: Die zweite Quelle des Matthäus und Lukas (1907) took recourse to the Sayings Source Q and offered the first complete reconstruction of the text. In the Sayings Source – thus Harnack in Das Wesen des Christentums (editions 1900–1929, each time enlarged with further remarks) – primary Jesus tradition (“primäre Überlieferung”, p. 67) has still survived unchanged.23 In the Catholic Church, such considerations were only permitted after the Second Vatican Council, which had granted the freedom of scholarly research. Here it was none other than the famous Catholic Q-scholar Paul Hoffmann, who – exactly in the same year as Gerd Theißen, in 197224 – advocated for a poor, peaceful, and charismatic church. In Studien zur Theologie der 20

21 22

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Alkier, Urchristentum, 261: “Der Begriff konnotiert qua seines Präfixes Ur- eine ungetrübte … Originalität, den unbedingten Anspruch auf Normativität …”. For further information about Basedow, see Alkier, Urchristentum, 161–165. Cf. the collection of arguments pro and contra at Koch, Geschichte, 22–27 (who opts for a further use of “Urkirche”) and Öhler, Geschichte, 15 (who opts against the use). “… in der dem Matthäus und Lukas gemeinsamen Quelle sowie in zahlreichen Abschnitten des Markus besitzen wir allerdings umfangreiche und wesentlich zuverlässige [sic] Sammlungen von Sprüchen und Taten Jesu” (p 66). G. Theißen published Wanderradikalismus: Literatursoziologische Aspekte der Überlieferung von Worten Jesu im Urchristentum in 1973, and „Wir haben alles verlassen“ (Mc. X,28): Nachfolge und soziale Entwurzelung in der jüdisch-palästinischen Gesellschaft des 1. Jahrhunderts n. Chr. in 1977. Nevertheless, the first mention of “Wanderradikalismus” dates back to his inaugural lecture 1972 in Bonn (cf. Theißen, Wandercharismatiker, 101 and 107).

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Logienquelle, he emphasised that the authorities behind the Sayings Source were itinerant charismatics, living up to an emblematic ethos of poverty and nonviolence. This certainly cannot be written off merely as a reflection of the values of the 1968-generation, but also as the visualisation of a counter reality to the existing church. By the way, P. Hoffmann was hitting two birds with one stone with this line of argument. When he repeatedly emphasises the “historical relativity” of our reconstructions, he not only takes into account the relativity of his own ideas, but also that this should protect us from a “fundamentalistic misunderstanding of dogmatic traditions”:25 Der Aufweis der Pluralität der neutestamentlichen Jesusdeutungen soll die historische Bedingtheit und damit auch “Relativität” des in der späteren Lehrentwicklung vorherrschenden Deutungsmodells aufzeigen. In Gegenüberstellung zu der in den außerpalästinischen Gemeinden sich abzeichnenden Entwicklung möchte ich … – durchaus als eine Art Alternativmodell – die Jesusrezeption in der sog. Spruchquelle Q vorstellen ...

Thus, one might detect two main points in the recent investment of Roman Catholics in the quest for the Sayings Source: Firstly, the wish for an appealing and attractive way of living Jesus traditions in the contemporary church. Here, sociological studies are being adapted for the research into the Jesus movement and serve as a means to assert reforms and cultivate open-mindedness within the church ambit. Secondly, the insights of a very complex process of developing Jesus traditions caution against a too monolithic church doctrine. If I remain honest to myself, I have to admit that both of these played an important role in my own doctoral thesis, published in 2001. In those days, I was still a Franciscan Friar26 and in my dissertation I did not hesitate to draw parallels between the itinerant charismatics of Q, itinerant asceticism in the emergence of monasticism in Syria (e.g., the pseudo-Clementine letters Ad Virgines and the Acts of Thomas in the third century) and the revival of such ideas as a countermovement to church power in the medieval period, from the 12th to 13th centuries, instigated by Francis of Assisi.27 My thesis was that a similar social environment acts as a catalyst for similar behavioural patterns. The biblical texts here work in the same way: The reader recognizes familiar social patterns in the texts and then transfers these directives and guidelines to his own time. This conception is nothing else but the old thesis that the Bible interprets itself, 25

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Hoffmann, Jesus, 117. Cf. also the preface of Tradition und Situation (1994): “Erst die Einsicht in solche ‘historische Relativität’ schützt vor einem fundamentalistischen Mißverständnis der Tradition …”. Theißen, Jesusbewegung, 20, underscores: “Es ist kein Zufall, dass die gründlichste Verteidigung der These vom ‛Wanderradikalismus’ von einem Franziskaner stammt. Diese These wird freilich weder durch diese noch durch eine andere Perspektive wahrer oder falscher.” Cf. Tiwald, Wanderradikalismus, 289–316. See also some new considerations on such conceptions in Tiwald, Logienquelle, 121–124, and in Tiwald, Freedom, 111–131.

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as Martin Luther has put it: The inspiration of scripture finds a match in the inspiration of the reader, who identifies himself with the text and thus has the right intuition to adapt the text’s guidelines.28 Such an interpretation should not be dismissed as mere projection, but rather taken as a kind of recognition: The reader identifies himself with the text and draws guidelines from the biblical perspectives to his own life. This is certainly a vivid description of the process of biblical re-lecture, which is immanent in biblical theology itself: There is no Bible without the re-reading and re-contextualizing of old traditions. The re-use of biblical traditions in the Hebrew Bible (e.g., the books of Chronicles), the translation of the Septuagint, the theology of Qumran, and last but not least the New Testament itself, is proof of such an approach to biblical theology. Nevertheless, the historical-critical exegesis here has a crucial function as a referee between diverging interpretations. Conflicting ideas about how churches should live up to the maxims of biblical paradigms led to the quest for the “historical Jesus” in the 18th century. Conservative and liberal groups alike used to exploit the presumed “authenticity” of their interpretations for their means. Thus, the question remains whether a historical approach seems feasible and whether its results still have a formative power for today. We are back to the question of whether or not the “Urkirche” has a normative value for us today. Here, Martin Ebner in the aforementioned discussion in Berlin insisted on the necessity of historical reconstructions. Even if such reconstructions always remain hypothetical, critical scholarship should establish quality criteria for scrutinizing our Jesus traditions. This holds true as a corrective against fundamentalism in our churches, but also against most fanciful Jesus-depictions in mass media. In the time of “fake news”, some objective criteria must be seen as a desideratum.

4.

The Quest for Historical Authenticity

In the last decades the quest for the historical Jesus seemingly has turned into the question as to whether historical authenticity in general can be achieved. In his comprehensive monography Jesus and the Historians (2010), Alexander Wedderburn has highlighted the postmodern pitfalls of the quest for the “historical” Jesus. Even though he recognizes that history never can be reconstructed, he opts for “an element for ‘cognitional self-transcendence’”, in the sense of “seeking to take that historical conditioning into account and selfcritically to ask how it has influenced and perhaps distorted our way of seeing things”.29 Or as G. Theißen has put it: Even if our sources never are able to 28 29

Cf. Maurer, Art. Inspiration, WiBiLex, and Frevel, Auslegung, 40. Wedderburn, Jesus, 128.

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present a merely objective history, they nevertheless are neither capable of distorting the reality completely.30 If one cannot reconstruct the past, then historians at least can establish criteria of probability. G. Theißen here has introduced the double criterion of “Wirkungsplausibilität” (plausibility of attestation) and “Kontextplausibilität” (plausibility of context).31 The first criterion focusses on multiple and independent attestations in our sources, the second on a contextualisation in early Judaism. Accordingly, Christoph Heil 2014 has published his programmatic collection of essays Das Spruchevangelium Q und der historische Jesus. In the essay Dichtung und Wahrheit he recognizes the merits of constructivism, but opts for “methodologically well-conceived hypotheses”32 about the historical Jesus. Nevertheless, “… critical examination of the historical material does not by itself lead to an ‘authentic’ picture of the past”33 – as Jens Schröter has put it. It would be a false understanding if we tried to find the ‘true’ Jesus hidden behind our sources, as Schröter concludes:34 … history always means to scrutinize the sources as selective, often incomplete, remains of the past. It never means to go behind the sources to the “real” events. Therefore, what can be gained by pursuing the quest of historical Jesus as a historical enterprise is a portrait developed on the basis of critical scrutiny of the earliest narratives under the presupposition of the present knowledge and ethical norms.

Two conclusions can be drawn out of this: Firstly, as J. Schröter has already stated: “… the quest for the historical Jesus has to be pursued as a historical enterprise because it deals with historical material and aims at reconstructing the life and activity of an ancient Jew in his historical context.”35 A mere “memory approach” – which in the extreme means that all our “memories” about Jesus are historically useless – amounts to an unhistorical self-denial: to renounce formulating framework conditions in which a reasonable quest for the historical Jesus could take place. It is certainly true that we have no “facts” (in the sense of undisputed and scientifically proven data) about Jesus – we only have “memories”. Nevertheless, we have to distinguish between “Jesusmemories” that are well founded on historical research, and “Jesus-memories” that are mere products of phantasy. Renouncing quality criteria for scrutinizing 30

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32

33 34 35

Theißen/Merz, Jesus, 121: “Wenn alle Quellen von unvollkommenen und irrtumsfähigen Menschen stammen, so ist dies ein starkes Motiv, ihnen gegenüber skeptisch zu sein. Aber wir dürfen auch das Vertrauen haben: So wenig Menschen perfekt genug sind, die Wahrheit rein wiederzugeben, so wenig sind sie perfekt genug, sie ganz zu verdrehen.” Theißen/Winter, Kriterienfrage, passim; Theißen/Merz, Jesus, 116–120. Cf. the discussion of these criteria by Wedderburn, Jesus, 161–182. Heil, Dichtung, 235: “Die enge Verbindung von Dichtung und Ereignis ist ein wichtiger Aspekt, der bei der Rückfrage nach dem historischen Jesus immer zu berücksichtigen ist, der aber eine historisch-kritische Untersuchung der Texte und eine entsprechende methodisch-kontrollierte Hypothesenbildung nicht unmöglich macht.” Schröter, Criteria, 51. Schröter, Criteria, 70. Schröter; Criteria, 69.

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our “Jesus-memories” would open up a landscape of uncontrolled proliferation of Jesus-stories. A sex and crime bestseller about Jesus and Mary Magdalene thus might range in the same class of historical plausibility as the responsible work of Jesus scholars. It is laudable that historians in the last fifty years have developed the necessary self-criticism to question their own results as to whether they might not be projections or wishful thinking. Nevertheless, the herewith prompted scepticism has in the meantime reached a most uncritical level in milieus outside of scholarly discourse. It permits politicians like Donald Trump to dismiss scientific data about climate change as “fake-news” and present their own versions as seemingly equally well-founded. “Post-truth politics” (also called “post-factual politics”) have become a bolstering and rewarding technique in our political culture: better to forward strong emotions than to rely on weak arguments. This paradigm is obviously the one adopted by fundamentalist groups within our churches too (Catholic, Protestant, and all confessions equally). It is good to hear that at the beginning of this year (31.01.2019) the notorious denier of the Shoah (“Holocaust”), Bishop Richard Williamson, after ten years (!) of court cases was condemned by the European Court of Human Rights.36 His plea that denying the Shoah should be seen as legitimate freedom of expression, was finally declined. Luckily, we are still capable of distinguishing between stupid phantasies and historical plausibility. The same holds true in our exegesis as well: we still might blame “the Jews” for having spilled Jesus’ blood (cf.: πᾶς ὁ λαὸς εἶπεν· τὸ αἷμα αὐτοῦ ἐφ᾽ ἡμᾶς καὶ ἐπὶ τὰ τέκνα ἡμῶν, Mt 27:25) if historical-critical exegesis had not unveiled the theological intentions behind the Matthean redaction and tried to substitute such concepts with a more probable recon-struction of history. Such cases also apply when we are talking about church regulations: Is divorce and remarriage really to be sanctioned with excommunication, only because Jesus has opted for the indissolubility of marriage? The two criteria mentioned by G. Theißen here put the picture in a wider context: The plausibility of attestation shows that this saying of Jesus was transmitted in very different adaptations, which in some cases no longer sustained the absolute indissolubility of marriage.37 Accordingly, the plausibility of context embeds Jesus’ teaching about remarriage in the manifold discussions of early Judaism and reconstructs the primary intention of his saying – which most probably can be seen in the rejection of “hardness of heart”, as Mk 10:5 has put it. “Hardness of 36

37

Cf. http://www.spiegel.de/panorama/justiz/richard-williamson-holocaust-leugnerscheitert-mit-beschwerde-vor-dem-egmr-a-1250950.html (accessed: 02.02.2019). The denial of the Shoah by Bishop Williamson can be seen at: https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=2lK3uhn4NoA (accessed: 02.02.2019) and dates from 21.01.2009. Heil, Dichtung, 226, mentions a similar example of David Irving, his denial of gas chambers and his judicial sentencing by the High Court of Justice in London, 11th of April 2000. See the analyses by: Theobald, Ehescheidung, 109–124; Tiwald, Kommentar, 115–118. Cf. also the comprehensive dissertation on this topic by Junker, Rekonstruktion, passim.

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heart” is now one of the reproaches against conservative groups in the Catholic Church, who pride themselves in still upholding the “true” meaning of Jesus’ words by insisting on excommunicating remarried divorced couples. Thus, mechanically preserving the supposed teaching of Jesus might lead to undermining his primary intention. It is certainly right that we cannot reconstruct with one hundred percent confidence what Jesus really intended. Nevertheless, some reconstructions have a higher plausibility and others simply have to be dismissed.

5.

Catholic Perspectives

For me as both a Catholic priest and Catholic scholar, it is surprising that many of the aforementioned “Catholic Projections on the Sayings Source” have in the meantime actually become reality. Now it is none other than Pope Francis himself who advocates for a humble and understanding church. In Amoris Laetitia (dating from 19.03.2016) § 308, he writes: I understand those who prefer a more rigorous pastoral care which leaves no room for confusion. But I sincerely believe that Jesus wants a Church attentive to the goodness which the Holy Spirit sows in the midst of human weakness, a Mother who, while clearly expressing her objective teaching, “always does what good she can, even if in the process, her shoes get soiled by the mud of the street” (Evangelii Gaudium § 45). The Church’s pastors, in proposing to the faithful the full ideal of the Gospel and the Church’s teaching, must also help them to treat the weak with compassion, avoiding aggravation or unduly harsh or hasty judgements. The Gospel itself tells us not to judge or condemn (cf. Mt 7:1; Lk 6:37). Jesus “expects us to stop looking for those personal or communal niches which shelter us from the maelstrom of human misfortune, and instead to enter into the reality of other people’s lives and to know the power of tenderness. Whenever we do so, our lives become wonderfully complicated” (Evangelii Gaudium § 270).

And in Evangelii Gaudium (dating from 24.11.2013) § 24, we read: An evangelizing community gets involved by word and deed in people’s daily lives; it bridges distances, it is willing to abase itself if necessary, and it embraces human life, touching the suffering flesh of Christ in others. Evangelizers thus take on the “smell of the sheep” and the sheep are willing to hear their voice. An evangelizing community is also supportive, standing by people at every step of the way, no matter how difficult or lengthy this may prove to be.

In this context (ibid. § 40), the pontiff himself advocates for “exegetes and theologians”, but also for the “social sciences” to help “the judgment of the Church to mature”. Once forbidden attitudes now have reached the highest level of church administration. The catchphrase of helping the church’s judgment to mature is derived from Providentissimus Deus by Pope Leo XIII (1893): ut quasi praeparato studio, iudicium Ecclesiae maturetur here focusses on the work of exegetes in a way which is still monopolar: Church authority regulates the direc-

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tion in which scholarly interpretation has to run. Only in very few cases – on which church doctrine still is open – can the judgement mature. Remarkably enough, the same phrase was quoted by Vatican II in Dei Verbum (§ 12), but is here granting the freedom of research to biblical scholars, to develop the doctrine of “vivae totius Ecclesiae Traditionis” (DH 4219). Church doctrine here is no longer seen as a stereotypical repetition of theorems, but as a vivid flow of traditions that must be continuously adaptable. By this time Vatican II had opened up to the social sciences. Thus, Vatican II in Gaudium et Spes § 52 had declared regarding the church doctrine of marriage that not only “persons versed in the sacred sciences will have much to contribute”, but “[t]hose too who are skilled in other sciences, notably the medical, biological, social and psychological, can considerably advance the welfare of marriage ...” Here, the first attempt at an open discourse with the human sciences is presented. Likewise, in Amoris Laetitia, the document in which Pope Francis admits divorced and remarried couples to communion under special circumstances, the text underscores that this teaching is in accordance with the ideas of Jesus and does not violate against God’s truth. In § 311 we read: The teaching of moral theology should not fail to incorporate these considerations, for although it is quite true that concern must be shown for the integrity of the Church’s moral teaching, special care should always be shown to emphasize and encourage the highest and most central values of the Gospel, particularly the primacy of charity as a response to the completely gratuitous offer of God’s love. At times we find it hard to make room for God’s unconditional love in our pastoral activity. We put so many conditions on mercy that we empty it of its concrete meaning and real significance. That is the worst way of watering down the Gospel. It is true, for example, that mercy does not exclude justice and truth, but first and foremost we have to say that mercy is the fullness of justice and the most radiant manifestation of God’s truth.

The Catholic obsession with preserving God’s “justice and truth” by adamantly imposing canon law is here dismissed by referring to “most central values of the Gospel” – one is somewhat reminded of the recourse to ‘authentic’ Jesus’ traditions during the Enlightenment as a way to fend off rigorist church positions. After more than two hundred years of fierce debate, such ideas have finally arrived at the top levels of the Catholic Church. Should Catholics be happy that these developments finally arrived in the inner circles, or should we be saddened that it took such a long time? Regardless of the answer to this question, one should appreciate the power of scholarly research to set standards. It is true that we will never be able to fully reconstruct events of the past, but this by no means should deter us from trying to search for the most reasonable answers to the questions arising within our societies. Scholars carry a responsibility for society as theologians do for the church. This certainly should caution us against projecting our own ideas onto “historical” reconstructions, but it should not prevent us from courageously engaging in the ongoing discussions by supplying valuable criteria for the plausibility of our visions.

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Bibliography Primary Literature: Antiquity Augustine of Hippo Latin: De Consensu Evangelistarum Libri Quatuor (PL 34), Paris 1865, 1041–1230. Eusebius Greek: J. E. L. Oulton/ H. J. Lawlor/ W. Heinemann (ed.), Eusebius, The Ecclesiastical History. Vol 1– 2, London 1926–1932. Vincent of Lérins Latin: Sancti Vincentii Lirinensis Commonitorium, Ingolstadt 1823. Digitised edition (accessed: 15.02.2019): https://books.google.de/books?id=A4RRAAAAcAAJ&printsec=frontcover&hl=de#v=onepage& q&f=false.

Primary Literature: 19th century till 1960 Eichhorn, Johann Gottfried, Über die drey ersten Evangelien (Eichhorn’s allgemeine Bibliothek der biblischen Litteratur [sic] 5/6, Pages 937–996) (Leipzig: Weidmann, 1794). Digitised edition (accessed: 13.02.2019): http://reader.digitale-sammlungen.de/resolve/display/bsb10410465.html. Harnack, Adolf von, Das Wesen des Christentums. Sechzehn Vorlesungen vor Studierenden im Wintersemester 1899/1900 an der Universität Berlin gehalten (commented Reprint of the 1929 edition by T. Rendtorff,), Gütersloh 1999. Harnack, Adolf von: Sprüche und Reden Jesu: Die zweite Quelle des Matthäus und Lukas. Beiträge zur Einleitung in das Neue Testament 2; Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1907. Lachmann, Karl, De ordine narrationum in evangeliis synopticis, in: ThStKr 8 (1835) 570–590. Digitised edition (accessed: 15.02.2019): http://idb.ub.uni-tuebingen.de/diglit/thstkr_1835/0567. Lessing, Gotthold Efraim, Ueber den Beweis des Geistes und der Kraft (1777), Edition Karl Lachmann, dritte Neuauflage durch Franz Muncker (ed.), Gotthold Ephraim Lessings sämtliche Schriften. Bd. 13, Leipzig 1897, 1–8. Digitised edition (accessed: 13.02.2019): https://ia801409.us.archive.org/10/items/smtlicheschrif13lessuoft/smtlicheschrif13lessuoft. pdf. Lessing, Gotthold Efraim, Fragmente eines Ungenannten. Online edition: https://www.hsaugsburg.de/~harsch/germanica/Chronologie/18Jh/Reimarus/rei_fr00.html (accessed: 13.02.2019). Swift, Jonathan, An Argument Against Abolishing Christianity, 1708. Online edition: https://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/s/swift/jonathan/s97ab/ (accessed 13.02.2019) Wrede, William, Das Messiasgeheimnis in den Evangelien. 4., unveränd. Aufl., Göttingen 1969, Digitised edition (accessed 13.02.2019): http://daten.digitale-sammlungen.de/~db/0005/bsb00055319/images/.

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Primary Literature: Texts of the Catholic Church Doctrine Denzinger, H./ Hünermann P. (ed.), Kompendium der Glaubensbekenntnisse und krichlichen Lehrentscheidungen, Freiburg i. Br. 371991 [refered to as DH]. For an English translation of the texts contained in “Denzinger” see: http://patristica.net/denzinger/ (accessed: 14.02.2019). Amoris Laetitia (English, accessed: 15.02.2019): http://w2.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/apost_exhortations/documents/papafrancesco_esortazione-ap_20160319_amoris-laetitia.html Dei Verbum (English, accessed: 14.02.2019): http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vatii_const_19651118_dei-verbum_en.html Dei Verbum (Latin, accessed: 14.02.2019): http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vatii_const_19651118_dei-verbum_lt.html Divino Afflante Spiritu (Latin): E. Lora/R. Simonati (ed.), Enchiridion delle Encicliche Bd. 6, Bologna 1995. Divino Afflante Spiritu (German edition with subdivisions and paragraphs): A. Rohrbasser (ed.), Heilslehre der Kirche, Freiburg i. Ü. 1953, 210–240. Divino Afflante Spiritu (English, accessed: 14.02.2019): http://w2.vatican.va/content/piusxii/en/encyclicals/documents/hf_p-xii_enc_30091943_divino-afflante-spiritu.html Evangelii Gaudium (English, accessed: 15.02.2019): https://w2.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/apost_exhortations/documents/papafrancesco_esortazione-ap_20131124_evangelii-gaudium.html Gaudium et Spes (English, accessed: 15.02.2019): http://www.vatican.va/archive/hist_councils/ii_vatican_council/documents/vatii_const_19651207_gaudium-et-spes_en.html The Interpretation of the Bibel in the Church (English, accessed 15.02.2019): http://catholic-resources.org/ChurchDocs/PBC_Interp-FullText.htm Oath against modernism (English, accessed: 14.02.2019): http://www.papalencyclicals.net/pius10/p10moath.htm Pontifical Biblical Commission (Statements, accessed: 14.02.2019): http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/congregations/cfaith/pcb_doc_index.htm Providentissimus Deus (Latin, accessed: 14.02.2019): http://w2.vatican.va/content/leoxiii/la/encyclicals/documents/hf_l-xiii_enc_18111893_providentissimus-deus.html Providentissimus Deus (English, accessed: 14.02.2019): http://w2.vatican.va/content/leoxiii/en/encyclicals/documents/hf_l-xiii_enc_18111893_providentissimus-deus.html

Secondary Literature Alkier, S., Urchristentum. Zur Geschichte und Theologie einer exegetischen Disziplin (BHTH 83), Tübingen 1993. Ebner, M., Die Stadt als Lebensraum der ersten Christen. Das Urchristentum in seiner Umwelt I (GNT 1,1), Göttingen 2012. Frevel, Ch., Alles eine Sache der Auslegung. Zum Verhältnis von Schriftverständnis und Schriftauslegung, in: J. Rist/Ch. Breitsameter (ed.), Wort Gottes. Die Offenbarungsreligionen und ihr Schriftverständnis, Münster 2013, 25–52. Frey, J., Herder und die Evangelien, in: M. Keßler/V. Leppin (ed.), Johann Gottfried Herder. Aspekte seines Lebenswerks, Berlin 2005, 47–91.

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Grillmeier, A., Drittes Kapitel. Kommentar, in: H. Vorgrimmler (ed.), Das Zweite Vatianische Konzil (LThK.E), Freiburg i. Br. 1967, 528–559. Groetsch, U., Hermann Samuel Reimarus (1694–1768). Classicist, Hebraist, Enlightenment Radical in Disguise (BSIH 237), Leiden 2015. Heil, Ch., Dichtung und Wahrheit. Der historische Jesus und die Geschichtstheorie, in: Ch. Heil (ed.), Das Spruchevangelium Q und der historische Jesus (SBAB 58), 215–239. Hoffmann, P., Wer war Jesus von Nazareth? Die Bedeutung der Spruchquelle Q für das christologische Bekenntnis, in: Imprimatur 3 (2004), 116–122. Hoffmann, P., Tradition und Situation. Studien zur Jesusüberlieferung in der Logienquelle und den synoptischen Evangelien (NTA.NF 28), Münster 1995. Hoffmann, P., Studien zur Theologie der Logienquelle (NTA.NF 8), Münster 31983 (first publication in 1972). Junker, L., Rekonstruktion und Interpretation des Logions Q 16,18 vor dem Hintergrund frühjüdischer Reinheitsvorstellungen, Dissertation Univ. Duisburg-Essen, still unpublished, 2018. Koch, D.-A., Geschichte des Urchristentums, Göttingen 2013. Körtner, U. H., Papiasfragmente, in: U. Körtner/M. Leutzsch (ed.), Papiasfragmente. Hirt des Hermas (SUC 3), Darmstadt 2011, 1–103. Maurer, E., Art. Inspiration, in: WiBiLex (erstellt: Februar 2009). Permanent Link to the Article: https://www.bibelwissenschaft.de/de/stichwort/21838/ (accessed on 27/01/2019). Mulzer, M., Art. Eichhorn, Johann Gottfried, in: WiBiLex 2009, permalink to article: https://www.bibelwissenschaft.de/stichwort/16980/ (accessed: 13.02.2019). Öhler, M., Geschichte des frühen Christentums, Göttingen 2018. Schröter, J., The Criteria of Authenticity in Jesus Research and Historiographical Method, in: Ch. Keith/A. Le Donne (ed.), Jesus, criteria, and the Demise of Authenticity, London 2012, 49–70. Semmelroth, O./Zerwick, M., Vatikanum II über das Wort Gottes. Die Konstitution „Dei Verbum“: Einführung und Kommentar, Text und Übersetzung (SBS 16), Stuttgart 1966. Theißen, G., Kynische und urchristliche Wandercharismatiker. Zu W. Stegemann: „Hinterm Horizont geht’s weiter“, in: G. Theißen (ed.), Von Jesus zur urchristlichen Zeichenwelt. „Neutestamentliche Grenzgänge“ im Dialog, Göttingen 2011, 101–116. Theißen, G., Die Jesusbewegung. Sozialgeschichte einer Revolution der Werte, Gütersloh 2004, 33– 98. Theißen, G., „Wir haben alles verlassen“ (Mc. X,28). Nachfolge und soziale Entwurzelung in der jüdisch-palästinischen Gesellschaft des 1. Jahrhunderts n. Chr. (first publication in 1977), in: G. Theißen (ed.), Studien zur Soziologie des Urchristentums (WUNT 19), Tübingen 31989, 106–141. Theißen, G., Wanderradikalismus. Literatursoziologische Aspekte der Überlieferung von Worten Jesu im Urchristentum (first publication in 1973), in: G. Theißen (ed.), Studien zur Soziologie des Urchristentums (WUNT 19), Tübingen 31989, 79–105. Theißen, G./Merz, A., Der historische Jesus, Göttingen 21997. Theißen, G./Winter D., Die Kriterienfrage in der Jesusforschung. Vom Differenzkriterium zum Plausibilitätskriterium (NTOA 34), Göttingen 1997. Theobald, M., Jesu Wort von der Ehescheidung. Gesetz oder Evangelium? in: ThQ 175 (1995) 109‒124. Tiwald, M., Kommentar zur Logienquelle, Stuttgart, 2019. Tiwald, M., Die Logienquelle. Text, Kontext, Theologie, Stuttgart 2016. Tiwald, M., The Brazen Freedom of God’s Children: “Insolent Ravens” (Q 12:24) and “Carefree Lilies” (Q 12:27) as Response to Mass-Poverty and Social Disruption? in: M. Tiwald (ed.), Q in Context II. Social Setting and Archeological Background of the Sayings Source (BBB 173), Bonn 2015, 111–131. Tiwald, M., Wanderradikalismus. Jesu erste Jünger – ein Anfang und was davon bleibt (ÖBS 20), Frankfurt am Main 2002. Wedderburn, A. J. M., Jesus and the Historians (WUNT 269), Tübingen 2010.

 

Introducing “Q” in French Catholic Scholarship at the Turn of the 19th and 20th Century: Alfred Loisy’s Évangiles synoptiques Joseph Verheyden

Roman-Catholic scholars played no role in establishing the Q hypothesis in the nineteenth century or in further developing and defending it in the first half of the twentieth century. That may (at least, in part) explain why no Frenchspeaking scholars are mentioned in J.M. Robinson’s survey of research in the opening chapter of the Critical Edition of Q.1 Others have paid attention to their contribution.2 In the past few years, Kloppenborg, and in their own way, B. Viviano and M. Tiwald, have presented papers that deal with the reasons why (particularly) French Catholic scholarship lagged behind in the fight for Q and with the achievements it nevertheless was able to produce.3 The major reason, sometimes considered to be the only one, is the constant threat of falling out with the ecclesial authorities and the consequences this might have on the personal and on the academic-scientific level. Perhaps less known, and in any case less emphasised, is a second possible reason. For a long time, this latter one went hand in hand with the former, yet it can also be distinguished from it, and certainly so when the primary problem became obsolete. It has two aspects that again are somehow intertwined: one is genuine doubt about the probing value of the Q hypothesis, the other has very much to do with human reflexes, in this case, a certain unease or inertia for opening up to novelties of any sort.4 Basically, these two reasons can be traced back to one and the same root: fear. On a negative tone one might then be tempted to assess Catholic scholarship’s support for Q as “too little, too late”; in a more amiable mood one might be 1 2

3

4

Robinson, History of Q Research, xix-lxxi. See Kloppenborg Verbin, Excavating Q, 43–50 (Vaganay and Boismard on the synoptic problem), 314–317, 320–324, 27–328, 340–341 (Lagrange on Markan priority and the second source), 323–324 and 330–331 (Loisy). Cf. also Schmithals, Einleitung, 320–323 (Loisy) and passim (Lagrange and Vaganay). Kloppenborg, Camouflaging Q; Viviano, French Catholic Scholars; Tiwald, Investment, see the article in this volume. To mention just one, quite telling, example from my own Leuven context. L. Cerfaux studied L. Vaganay’s book on the synoptic problem in most detail – he even taught a course on it on the basis of the proofs, before it was published! –, but he always remained most hesitant to start using the symbol Q, until he finally gave in and published an article on the second source at the very end of his life; see Cerfaux, L’utilisation.

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inclined to show some empathy for the problems these scholars had to face and conquer in speaking out for Q. In what follows I will not retell this whole story once again, and I will also refrain from starting another round of blame-gaming. Instead, mine is a modest purpose. I would first like briefly to recall a couple of observations that we are all familiar with, not in order to excuse anyone, but simply because it gives some broader context and it may be useful not to forget about them. I will then revisit what I consider to be some of the more emblematic passages on the Synoptic Problem written by a couple of French speaking scholars of the late 19th and early 20th century, when Q was better “not-spokenof” in their circle and which have inspired me to some comments; in short, in this latter part I will present some fruits of a renewed close reading of these authors.

1.

Two Preliminary Observations

By the end of the 19th century it seemed that all was said and done in defence of Q and that it had conquered the field. It is important to realise, however, that the Q hypothesis, whatever its success, was and very much remained the product of one particular branch of scholarship – liberal German-speaking Protestant scholarship. It is equally important to realise that the hypothesis has continued to meet with various forms or degrees of scepticism up till this day, and not just in Catholic circles. In the first decades of the 20th century mighty voices in the UK spoke out in favour of Q.5 Yet they were unable to silence all the sceptics and the “dissident” voices, and indeed rather inspired others to come up with an alternative that never matched the success of the Q hypothesis, yet proved to be sufficiently appealing and tenacious to seduce at least some scholars.6 But also the old foe has not completely disappeared. Many might have had the impression that at the beginning of the 20th century the Griesbach hypothesis was out and gone for good,7 only to be forcefully put on the table again some sixty years later and to be defended most stubbornly by one individual who rapidly succeeded in winning over to his side a small but vocal group of sympathisers.8 Such reactions should not too easily be dismissed as odd and irrelevant, for they illustrate that it is just practically impossible to reach full 5

6

7

8

One thinks of course of members of W. Sanday’s Oxford seminar and Streeter, Four Gospels. Most vocal, and probably most challenging, is the Farrer-Goulder or Mark-without-Q Hypothesis; see Goulder, Luke; Goodacre, Goulder. Cf. also Watson, Gospel Writing, 117– 155. Quite remarkably, one of its last adherents in the beginning of the 20th century was a French Catholic scholar: Pasquier, Solution. Farmer, Synoptic Problem, and the balanced critical response by Tuckett, Revival.

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consensus. This should keep one aware, if need be, that all proposals in this type of discussion are essentially hypothetical and have their weaknesses or difficulties. It seems that in biblical studies, as in all other disciplines in the humanities, no battle is won forever and there is no such thing as an absolute victory.9 The second point I wish to touch upon is of a different nature. It is about showing courage in the face of danger in defending one’s opinion. People admire heroes, but few aspire at becoming one. And heroism is what it took in Catholic quarters in the first half of the 20th century to speak up for Q, or for any other theory related to historical-critical scholarship and considered innovative by the magisterium. Some did and suffered the consequences of their bravery. Josef Schmid’s courageous effort for putting up a case for Q in his 1930 monograph, at a time when this was “not done” and even outright dangerous in Catholic milieu, caused the author quite some problems.10 Alfred Loisy’s fate was even more tragic, as is well known, whatever one thinks of the way he provoked and then handled his own case.11 But not many dare to take this path, and most rather look for ways to argue their point in such a manner that they feel they remain 9

10

11

This was the spirit the organisers of the 2008 Oxford colloquium wished to convey; see Foster et al., New Studies. Cf. Matthäus und Lukas. After 1930 Schmid basically gave up on synoptic problem studies and turned to the textual and manuscript tradition of the Book of Revelation, a field in which he contributed pioneering work. But the old wound never was healed, as W. Pesch formulates it in the introduction to the Festschrift Schmid was offered at the occasion of his 80th birthday: “‘Niemand kann zwei Damen dienen’, pflegte er zu sagen, und er dachte dabei an die Wissenschaft und die kirchliche Verwaltung. Den Prälatentitel hat er wiederholt zurückgewiesen; mit solchen Ehrungen konnte er nichts anfangen. Josef Schmid hat sich der theologischen Wissenschaft verschrieben, nicht einer Karriere in Kirche oder Universität. Von der Fakultät hat er Abschied genommen (‘die von mir geschiedene Frau’), vom Katheder ist er heruntergestiegen, vielen Aufgaben hat er Adieu gesagt, aus dem Stehpult ist ein Schreibtisch geworden; aber da sitzt er wirklich und liest und schreibt” (Josef Schmid, 12). There is no end to the secondary literature on “the case Loisy”. Studies that take a broader look at his person and work include Houtin, Alfred Loisy (with whom Loisy had a difficult relation after Houtin had left the church); de Boyer de Sainte Suzanne, Alfred Loisy; Ivaldo, Religione. Cf. also below n. 80 (Lagrange). Quite moving is the little eyewitness testimony of Loisy’s last days of his life by Lacoste, Les dernières semaines d’Alfred Loisy. On the lasting value of Loisy’s exegetical work, see the essays in Amsler, Quelle place pour Alfred Loisy. For a solid survey and discussion of Loisy’s work in the field of the history of religion, but with special attention also to his personal life, see Hill, The Politics of Modernism; cf. also the forthcoming book by Lannoy, Alfred Loisy. In addition to the information on his personal opinion on a large number of topics that can be gained from Loisy’s published scientific work, one gets a fuller picture of his personality through the Mémoires and through his correspondence with colleagues. A most important and instructive corpus of the latter containing more than 400 letters Loisy and Franz Cumont addressed to each other, covering a period of more than thirty years (1908–40), has recently been published in two volumes in Lannoy et al., “Mon cher Mithra …”.

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true to the thesis they wish to uphold without risking to be silenced or removed from the scene. One may think this to be cowardice, but it is probably more correct to call it pragmatism, and in terms of efficiency it certainly often is the better option. What I want to point out is that one should not forget about the circumstances in which some scholars had to work and about the concern for survival human beings naturally possess.

2.

Revisiting the Beginnings

Kloppenborg subsumed his survey of French (and German) Catholic scholarship under the heading “camouflage”.12 There is something to be said for the label, as one frequently has the impression that for all scholars involved in the debate in those days it was above all a matter of finding ways to make sure that what one wished to convey was sufficiently covered up to protect the messenger and yet also sufficiently visible to be picked up by those who were on their side. While I like this approach, I wonder if it would not be more appropriate to speak instead of “diplomacy” and the concern for formulating and publishing one’s views in such a way that one manages to get one’s say and yet also to satisfy the watchdogs. After all, some of the formulations or ways to present things are not all that well “camouflaged” but rather quite visible. As a matter of fact, one might say they are phrased in a mode their authors hope will be effective in appeasing the other party without betraying the intended result, and will at the same time illustrate their good faith as scholars and as members of the Church. So diplomacy, and forms of diplomatic discourse, is what I have been looking for and the perspective from which I have been reading once again some of this older literature.13 Here are a few examples with no further pretence than to show how these texts may have been conceived and composed by their respective authors with the main purpose of keeping open the lines with the ecclesiastical authorities, while at the same time trying to stay true to their conviction.

12 13

Kloppenborg, Camouflaging Q. I have found inspiration with regard to the purpose and means of using diplomatic language from a number of publications, including, Kissinger, Diplomacy; Ratcliffe, Diplomacy; Scholtyseck – Freiberger, Diplomacy; Petrie, Diplomatic History and Earlier Diplomatic History; Andretta et al., De l’ambassadeur; a couple of articles that deal more specifically with diplomatic language: Arifon, Langage diplomatique; Mihalovics, Actes de langage directifs; and numerous essays in the journal Diplomatic History.

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Les Évangiles synoptiques

Les Évangiles synoptiques, Loisy’s opus magnum, was published in two volumes in 1907–08. It is a brilliant work, not in the least because of its monumental introduction of some 240 pages. The work was the culmination of a project on the synoptic gospels, the first results of which had been published in 1893 as part of an even more ambitious project entitled “L’enseignement biblique”. The latter is the umbrella title of a series of thirteen essays on various topics in the field of biblical and exegetical studies Loisy published at a pace of one essay every two months between 1892 and 1894.14 The first instalment appeared in January 1892; the preface to this first year is worth a closer look for what Loisy has to say about his project, and perhaps even more, for the way he formulates it.15 Loisy begins by noting that he does not want to launch a scientific biblical journal and enter in competition with the Revue biblique (RB) which had just published its first issue, wishing the latter all the best and hoping it will further biblical scholarship in the Catholic world.16 His is a much more modest project that consists of sharing the fruits of his own lectures with seminarians and young priests eager to instruct themselves beyond the basics they are taught in their education, quite elegantly formulated as “l’initiation excellente, mais necessairement imparfaite”.17 His project is “une oeuvre de vulgarisation” that informs readers about the results of the truly scientific research done by others. That is why it is called “enseignement biblique”. Two things deserve a word of comment. First, the very positive evaluation of the Dominican project, which is not only praised for its scholarship but also for the “saine et loyale apologétique” Loisy (and others, I guess) expect from it, is used, indirectly but nevertheless quite openly, to plead the case of his own project. Second, Loisy reaches out, not to the “professionals”, but to a larger readership that is apparently not expected to delve into RB articles. So it serves a different purpose, and maybe even, one might add, a more urgent one as it claims to have a more direct impact on ministers of the Church. Modesty (sort of), now combined with another personal touch, continues to reign when Loisy then notes that he does not feel to be up to the task of producing the kind of highbrow scholarship RB is publishing, as some individuals who are well disposed towards him in vain had tried to convince him to do. He 14 15

16 17

L’enseignement biblique. This “Avant-propos” was published separately in 1894 as the first chapter of a book entitled “Les études bibliques” that contained extracts from the “Revue l’Enseignement Biblique”, as is indicated on the front page. Pagination below follows the original publication of 1892. “Avant-propos”, v. Ibid., vi.

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wishes to publish “une initiation sérieuse à l’étude de la Bible” in terms of content and method. No specialist material, no innovations, but solid surveys of the basics. Loisy emphasises he cannot be lured away from this intention, not by eulogy, nor by any form of reprobation. “Nous savons et nous disons pour qui nous voulons écrire. Que l’on ne cherche pas dans nos travaux ce que nous n’avons pas voulu y mettre”.18 The author is well aware of the situation he is in, but that will not bring him off his mark. His goal is certainly not less valuable than that of RB. “On peut server la science de deux manières, en la faisant avancer, ou en la faisant connaître”.19 As Loisy sees it, there is a neat difference between a professor and a scholar. Loisy then moves on to the contents of his project. Six questions are asked of the biblical writings, from their status to their contents and the rules of interpretation, and these will in turn lead to a six-fold division or approach of the material that is to be treated, including the history of the concept of inspiration, the canon, the textual tradition, the composition history of the biblical books, biblical theology, and biblical exegesis. The six-time repeated “history of” (“histoire du”) is impressive and in itself already indicates that this is an impossible project to be conducted by one individual. Loisy does not seem to care, though he comes back to it later on and realistically notes that this is virtually impossible to achieve.20 But for now he goes on briefly to describe what he plans to study in each of these fields. The crucial concept, the one that keeps the whole project together and guides it methodologically, is that of “l’examen critique de la Bible et de son histoire”.21 Equally crucial, in my view, for a correct evaluation of Loisy’s intentions, is another phrase from the same page that sounds like a confession: “Les Livres saints contiennent la révélation sans mélange d’erreur; ils contiennent la verité”. Critical scholarship and Christian (Catholic) dogma are not necessarily mutually exclusive. The scholar and the believer can live together. Loisy illustrates the latter by distinguishing between three types of exegesis – the pastoral, the theological, and the critical one. The latter is further described in three modes: “L’exégèse critique s’intéresse directement à la pensée de l’écrivain sacré; elle essaie de la saisir dans sa forme primitive, elle suit le développement de cette pensée à travers les âges, …; elle se fonde nécessairement sur les textes originaux de l’Écriture”.22 The last one is deemed to be particularly important, to the point that Loisy does not hesitate to define the best commentary as nothing more than a correct translation of the original, with a few explanatory notes.23

18 19 20 21 22 23

Ibid., vii. Ibid., viii. Ibid., xiv. Ibid., x. Ibid., xiii. Ibid., xiv.

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The goal is nothing less than to contribute to the restauration of biblical studies among the French clergy.24 The best way forward is not to get stuck in hopeless debates, but to try and reconcile tradition and “sound criticism”, “joindre en toutes choses la docilité prudente du théologien à la sincérité du savant, sans sacrifier l’une à l’autre”.25 It is the perfect way to describe Loisy’s intentions, his own position and approach, and the kind of difficulties he foresees and has already experienced. However, his self-defence does not just rely on this kind of general discourse. Loisy embarks on a project with which he has identified himself completely,26 all while taking his distance from those who think that the theologian and the historian cannot be reconciled, as he shows with a long excerpt from the preface of Renan’s Vie de Jésus arguing precisely this point: C’est à nous, théologiens, de prouver le contraire par le fait, en montrant que nous sommes capables autant que d’autres de faire de la critique, de la critique sincère, et même, en un sens très vrai de la critique libre, parce que, sur le terrain de l’histoire biblique comme en tout autre sujet, la foi dirige sans les gêner les investigations de la science, et que les conclusions certaines de la critique ne peuvent pas être en opposition avec les données certaines de la foi.27

Every word counts in this “pamphlet” describing the task of the modern historical theologian. There is no other way forward than to take part in scientific research, and it can be done without compromising one’s faith. There is no distinction, no impediment; the theologian can be, and should be, an historian if s/he wants to take control again of the own tradition and come to grips with it. So far for the context, the purpose and the methods at hand and at stake. Loisy stayed true to what he wrote in these early days. Little in this Preface needed to be changed or adapted over the years, and the core of its message remains as true now as then. But let me turn to the chapter on the synoptic gospels that was published in three parts, the first of which appeared in 1893.28 It opens with a fourteen-page preface before then entering into the exegesis of the gospel text. Loisy begins by pointing out the need for a solid chapter dealing with introductory questions accompanying the commentary of the texts themselves.29 He explains he will not provide one at this stage, as such a chapter is best written after the commentary is finished because it should ideally be based on the results of the analysis of the 24 25 26

27

28 29

Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., xiv: “Personne assurément ne s’étonnera de nous voir appliquer la méthode historique et critique à la science scripturaire”. Ibid., xv. Loisy and Cumont shared a common scepticism about the scientific character of Renan’s work, as seen in Cumont’s comforting words to his friend: “Soyez sûr que votre exégèse durera plus que celle de Renan. Il a construit dans les airs et vous sur le roc” (Letter 121, undated from 1915; “Mon cher Mithra …”, I, 110). Les Évangiles synoptiques. Traduction et commentaire. Ibid., 2.

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text. It is an interesting thought that strengthens the implicit idea that critical exegesis should not be led by axioms or presuppositions but freely engage with the biblical text. The nice image of the introduction receiving shape and form through the analysis30 can nevertheless not obscure that his position is in a sense artificial, as Loisy himself knows very well. All research is done following certain presuppositions, and he hastens to offer the reader already in advance some insights in “some of the general considerations” (“quelques considérations générales”) that have guided him regarding the origin of the gospels, the synoptic problem, and the traditions behind the gospels. As one can expect with regard to the first of these three topics due attention is given to the testimony of Papias.31 Loisy accepts the concept of an original Hebrew Matthew, source of inspiration for the three synoptic gospels, but in two ways also immediately qualifies its importance. There is no reason to think that the Greek Matthew is “une simple traduction” of the Hebrew original. “La tradition ne nous apprend rien sur ce point”.32 Moreover, this original context had little influence, as the Church rapidly adopted Greek as its common language in the East. To further discredit early Christian testimonies on these and similar matters, Loisy makes a scathing comment on Jerome’s suggestion that the Gospel of the Hebrews would be this original Matthew. Actually, the situation is far more fuzzy and one is entitled to conclude, “La tradition est muette sur les circonstances dans lesquelles ce dernier texte [canonical Matthew] a été mis au jour”.33 In other words, darkness reigns, the ancient testimonies are to be used with utmost caution, and the one thing that seems to be certain is that Greek Matthew is not a mere translation of a Hebrew original. Room is created for authorial freedom and for scholarly imagination based on textual approaches. Turning to the synoptic problem then, Loisy begins by reviewing a couple of quite differing positions that are all critically received. The so-called Augustinian hypothesis is dismissed with a general reference to “les anciens, qui n’ont jamais examiné de près cette question”, i.e., the synoptic problem.34 Loisy then seems to come back on his verdict when adding that such a view is not completely absurd and indeed quite possible: “Une telle conception, simple et en quelque sorte populaire, n’est pas en contradiction absolue avec la réalité”,35 provided one accepts that such a type of dependence cannot be subsumed under one label, as if Mark would merely have been abbreviating Matthew. As for Luke, there is no reason to make him too dependent on Greek Matthew, at least not if one still wants to give a place to Hebrew Matthew as a source of all three gospels. 30

31 32 33 34 35

Ibid., 2: “Elle [i.e., the Introduction] sera mieux comprise si on la voit se dégager progressivement d’une critique détaillée des sources”. Ibid., 3: “une donnée surprenante et d’ailleurs très solide”. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., 4. Ibid.

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Loisy’s argument is cleverly built on two pillars: avoid simplicity in reckoning with the differences between the three gospels and stick with the widely accepted notion of a Hebrew Matthew as described by Papias. It makes for a strong combination. The next hypothesis is that of common oral tradition. Held by a great number of Catholic and conservative Protestant scholars, it completely rejects any notion of literary relationship between the three gospels. Loisy’s verdict is harsh: “Cette opinion a le caractère d’un système apologétique plutôt que celui d’une hypothèse scientifique”. After Papias, it represents nothing less than a step back, as it is suspicious of granting anything to authorial freedom, but it is also self-contradictory, for what difference is there between handling oral tradition or a written source in a personal way: “il n’était pas plus difficile de traiter librement un texte qu’une tradition”.36 The objection is perhaps not to be taken too strictly, but it has something for it. A third hypothesis is then introduced – Markan priority and the TwoSource-Hypothesis. It comes at a critical point, after the two main alternatives Loisy is aware of, or wishes to mention, have been dismissed as untenable. It looks as if it is the only way out left. Those who hold it are called “rationalists”, but with the not-insignificant qualification “mainly”,37 and then further referred to as “the majority opinion”. That should give weight to the position. Mark is the source of Matthew and Luke; any material the latter two have in common stems from Papias’ Hebrew gospel that would have been “principalement didactique” compared to Mark’s narrative gospel. All remaining material, the Sondergut, comes from indistinctive sources – written or oral. The key passage runs as follows: La plupart des critiques contemporains admettent que l’Évangile de saint Marc est plus ancien que notre Évangile de saint Matthieu et qu’il a été utilisé pour la rédaction de cet Évangile comme pour celle de saint Luc. Les parties communes au premier et au troisième Évangile, qui ne sont pas dans le second, proviendraient de l’Évangile hébreu dont parle Papias.38

Further weight is added to this position by pointing out that it is actually nothing else but the scientific format of Papias’ suggestion or, for that, of the Augustinian hypothesis, insofar as these also work with the notion of literary dependence. It is a bit tricky as an argument, but its ad personam aspect, that is, the fact that it relates to still widely accepted positions in Catholic circles does the trick. Loisy then adds a word of comment on each of the two pillars. He is not impressed with any form of proto-Mark, and even less so, it seems, by attempts at linking Mark to Hebrew Matthew or (a form of) proto-Matthew, for the double reason that such sources are no longer accessible to us and that there is no indi36 37 38

Ibid., 5 (both citations). Ibid., 6: “principalement chez les rationalistes”. Ibid.

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cation that there must have been a significant difference in content and structure between these proto-forms of the gospels and their canonical form. The argument is more subtle than it may seem, for not only does it away with proto- or Ur-Mark, but in a sense also with the chimera of a Hebrew Matthew as source of all three of the gospels. The emphasis on the fact that the longer gospels did not just copy Mark offers ammunition for the first conclusion, the simple observation that Mark’s dependence on Hebrew Matthew cannot be proven overrules the insistence that such a dependence is quite well possible.39 The one entity that really stands and on which we have some grip as a source of Matthew and Luke is canonical Mark. Loisy notes a similar diversity of opinion in dealing with the relation between Matthew and Luke, which in fact entails a further deconstruction of the Hebrew Matthew hypothesis. As it remains disputed whether Matthew’s or Luke’s arrangement of double tradition material (Loisy does not use this term) has retained the original order and both may alternatively have preserved the original, though he adds that “in general” Luke’s is probably more original, whereas Matthew stayed closer to the source in wording, it seems like a natural conclusion that none of the two had direct access to the common source – this is the last blow to Papias’ form of the common source –, but each of them relied on translations of this source or sources using it. “Aucun d’eux ne procèderait directement de l’Évangile hébreu, mais de traductions ou de travaux fondés sur cet Évangile”.40 One might say, this is as close as one can get to the hypothesis of a Q recension without naming the “culprit”. Loisy sees no need to pose a direct link between the two longer gospels and handles this in just one phrase in which he calls the latter the more plausible option, before concluding this whole section with the general observation that in such matters no absolute results can be reached that would satisfy all scholars.41 This is not resignation, but the one sound principle on which critical exegesis should stand. Its results are perhaps not apodictic, but they are the fruit of textual analysis and “serious” study. Loisy does not say this explicitly, but one senses this is what he is aiming at. The third topic, that of the traditions behind the gospels, brings us to the apostles and speculates about the reasons for passing from oral to written tradition in preaching the message, all while resuming some of the observations that had been made with regard to the Hebrew gospel. The need for written material was a purely pragmatic one: the growing Church needed it, also because the eyewitnesses were gradually replaced by a next generation. The Hebrew gospel, which Loisy here quite tellingly describes as a repertory of information related to Jesus’ teaching rather than a story or a comment – the latter was

39 40 41

Ibid., 7: “supposition très vraisemblable, mais difficile à vérifier et à démontrer”. Ibid. Ibid., 8.

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offered by the oral tradition –, soon was surpassed by Greek equivalents of better quality in terms of language and contents. The key passage says it all: Celui-ci [the Hebrew gospel] était sans doute beaucoup moins un livre destiné à l’instruction des fidèles qu’une sorte de répertoire ou série de notes fort concises dans leur rédaction et destinées à soulager la mémoire des prédicateurs apostoliques. La tradition orale en fournissait le commentaire. … Mais la prédication apostolique franchit bientôt ces limites [Palestine], et l’Église devint grecque. Pour les convertis nés hors de Palestine … l’Évangile hébreu était comme n’existant pas. Il dut se faire et il se fit sur le protévangile différents travaux qui ne nous sont point parvenus, mais qui n’étaient point sans doute de simples traductions et qui tendaient à compléter l’Évangile primitif par la tradition orale, à en faire de plus en plus un livre, une histoire de la carrière publique et de l’enseignement de Jésus.42

Three comments are worth noting. First, the role of the famous Hebrew gospel is further diminished in favour of the canonical gospels, the “true” stories about Jesus. It flourished for a very short time and very locally. Second, the direct link between this original gospel and the canonical ones is further severed by positing a number of lost sources and documents between the original and the canonical gospels. Third, it is all presented as a natural and indeed necessary development to cater for a Church in full expansion. One might add, not without any irony, that Loisy seems to be remarkably well informed or certain about these earliest times. Overall, it is the “natural” and “(almost) obvious” character of his observations that give them their significance. It is a good way to try and convince a readership. There is nothing improbable in them, nothing artificial or farfetched. Every reader can easily imagine that this is how things might well have gone, and hence, why not, have indeed developed. The latter impression also works for explaining how Matthew and Luke came about from Mark. His attempt at composing an account of Jesus’ ministry and teaching, based on (a translation of) the Hebrew gospel and on Peter’s memoirs, “surtout pour le récit des faits”, took the place of the Hebrew gospel as source of inspiration for others. It had its merits but also its shortcomings: “il était plus complet comme abrégé historique, beaucoup moins comme résumé de la prédication de Jésus”.43 It was the reason for two other authors to complement it with extra material mined from various sources used for their own purposes. Tous deux, le rédacteur de notre premier Évangile et saint Luc, avaient à leur disposition des documents écrits qu’ils ont utilisés de la manière la plus conforme au but qu’ils se proposaient et au besoin du cercle de lecteurs à qui leurs livres étaient premièrement destinés.44

These are about the last words Loisy has to spent on the synoptic gospels. He adds a word on the special status of John and then describes in general terms the 42 43 44

Ibid., 8–9. Ibid., 9. Ibid.

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structure of the gospels accounts. One might have the impression that he takes back from what he had previously said about a common source of Matthew and Luke, and in a sense that is true, but only to some degree. In this section Loisy does no longer deal with the relation between the gospels, but rather with what makes them unique and individual creations with their own agenda and purpose. This is where the emphasis lies. On the other hand, and taking into account the delicate character of the second topic, the relation between the three gospels, it may well have been a conscious decision to treat this latter topic in second place and to conclude with the less contagious one of how the individual gospels came about. The passage from page 9 cited above is the last the reader comes across in this introduction indirectly talking about possible relations between gospels. It is perhaps of a more general character than what had been said before, but in no way does it really give up on the basic position – Markan priority and the existence of material or (a) source(s) common to the two longer gospels. One word, to end, about the final paragraph. To make sure that the message will go down, Loisy ends with a strongly voiced statement on the relation between faith and critical exegesis. The latter is needed, the former even more, and of the two, it is faith and a reading inspired by faith that by far is the more important. Critical exegesis makes its own small contribution to the understanding of the Christian message but should always know its place. The way Loisy formulates this is almost embarrassing for the kind of work he is embarking on: Si la critique aide à comprendre les détails, la foi seule donne la clef du tout. Les nécessités du temps présent nous obligent à faire une large part aux questions littéraires; mais nous savons autant que personne au monde combien la discussion de ces problèmes a peu d’importance au fond.45

This is quite a relativizing statement at the start of this huge project of offering a critical commentary on all three of the synoptic gospels. The mysterious “les nécessités du temps” as well as the equally mysterious “Puissions-nous seulement mettre cette parole [i.e., the divine word heard in the gospels] dans son vrai jour!”,46 when read together, sound like an excuse to accommodate the needs and bring French biblical scholarship into the orbit of critical exegesis, but also to express due awareness of the value of this sort of approach. Loisy knew all too well he was going down a dangerous path. All precautions are welcome. Going on this introduction, one may have the impression that “Q” takes only a minimal place and is a mere detail in the study of the gospels that does not really need any particular attention from the critical scholar. There is something like a common source to Matthew and Luke. Once it is identified as the Hebrew 45 46

Ibid., 14. Ibid.

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Gospel, but elsewhere it seems to have been obscured or hidden behind a broader formula of (common) sources and documents that gave the two longer gospels their extra material. The impression seems correct as far as the introduction is concerned. Does it also hold when one enters into the details of the analysis? Here are three randomly chosen “double tradition” passages, one with high and two with lower verbatim agreement between Matthew and Luke. The first is the preaching of John the Baptist in Matt 3,7–10 par. Luke 3,7–9. Loisy does not really signal out the strong verbal agreement, but rather points to differences in the immediate context. Matthew’s introduction is more specific than Luke’s and “doit être préférée”,47 by which I guess is meant that it reflects the original wording in the source, though that is not said as such. That source is the Hebrew gospel: “Ce discours se trouvait sans doute dans l’Évangile hébreu”.48 But more important for Loisy is the observation that Luke must have known the discourse through a source that is peculiar to him (“la source qui lui est particulière”), for he combines it with examples of practising charity (Luke 3,10–14). No reason is given why this would be so. The common source is partly obscured by the question about the origin of the specific context in which the material is met in Luke. And in this respect, sources have the upper hand over the evangelist’s inventiveness in creating something new from his sources. In dealing with the Temptation Narrative, Loisy is above all interested in pointing out the unique character of its language which distinguishes this pericope from the more “historically” minded narratives elsewhere in the gospels.49 Next to nothing is said about the source. It is taken for granted that Mark’s account is an abbreviation of the one found in Matthew and in Luke. “Tout porte à croire que ce résumé a été fait d’après une relation écrite très ressemblante à celles des autres Synoptiques”.50 So, the Hebrew gospel, or something close to it. Loisy minimises the differences in order between Luke and Matthew. As this is not an account of an historical event, but rather a description reflecting Jesus’ psychological state, such differences do not really matter.51 One can then just point to a vague common origin and leave unsaid whether the differences stem from variant sources or from the evangelists’ intervention. It is then all the more remarkable to read at the end of the analysis a phrase on literary interdependence of which it is not clear whether it applies only to the ending of the story in the variant versions or to the whole of the account as found in Luke and Matthew. After having noted once more that Matthew’s version combines a description of a state of mind and what looks like an account, but that Luke’s is more focused on the latter (“la réalité extérieure”), Loisy concludes, 47 48 49 50 51

Ibid., 91. Ibid., 92. Ibid., 111. Ibid., 100. Ibid., 101.

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Mais vu le rapport des textes, le troisième Évangile est à expliquer par le premier, et le premier Évangile est à expliquer en partie par le second.52

It is hard to say how this statement would function if applied to the whole of the narrative, but it works well for the conclusion of the Temptation Narrative, in which Matthew combines the farewell of the devil with the note from Mark about the angels, whereas Luke has only the first of these. It means that Loisy seems to reckon with literary dependence of Luke on Matthew, unless this is just a somewhat sloppy way for saying that the two longer gospels stayed true to the common source, but that Matthew added something from Mark. In any case, it shows that Loisy is not particularly interested in explaining the origin of the double tradition material beyond the general observation that it comes from a common source that Mark, for reasons that remain untold, would have abbreviated. The material from the Sermon on the Mount/Plain that Matthew and Luke have in common “ultimately” also derives from the Hebrew Gospel, but is mediated to Luke through a document of Jewish-Christian origin that also provided him with the material for the Infancy Narrative and any other material peculiar to his gospel. In other words, the common origin is recognised but not particularly valued, as Luke actually did not directly make use of that source, but of a thoroughly revised version of it, or rather of a document that had incurporated material from the Hebrew Gospel, but without much interest in preserving the original in extenso. Or as Loisy puts it, Pas plus pour l’introduction que pour le discours, saint Luc ne paraît dépendre directement de saint Matthieu. Le rédacteur du premier Évangile et l’auteur du troisième relèvent d’une source commune qui doit être en fin de compte l’Évangile hébreu. Certaines particularités de langage donnent à penser que saint Luc ne dépend pas immédiatement de cet écrit apostolique, mais médiatement, par la source judéochrétienne où il a puisé les récits de l’enfance et d’autres éléments qui sont propres au troisième Évangile.53

The strategy is clear. Double tradition material is “somehow” linked to a common source, but one of the two evangelists used it in a variant form and version, and the two are in any case independent of each other. It allows Loisy to accept a common origin of this kind of material while giving precedence to Matthew over Luke and explaining all the differences in this material and any other material found in Luke with reference to another source, which in its own way is also linked to the Hebrew Gospel. “Q” is there, and it is not; it plays an important role, but only indirectly and in disguise. Who could have anything against such an hypothesis and explanation? Loisy’s commentary in L’enseignement biblique ended with Mark 5,21–43 and parallels. The last instalment was published as no. 13 in 1894. It was followed two 52 53

Ibid., 107. Ibid., 174.

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years later with a further one running till Mark 8,27–33 that was originally published in the journal Revue des Religions and in 1896 also as a separate brochure.54 The project was stalled or aborted, only to be resurrected ten years later in a more majestic format in the two volumes published in 1907–08. In the meantime, much had happened. Loisy had continued to publish at an impressive pace and was now in open conflict with church authorities. Pierre Batiffol had published a little book that would become a bestseller in which he dealt, among others, with the synoptic problem.55 And Marie-Joseph Lagrange had spoken out for both Loisy and Batiffol, though he himself did not share their view.

2.2.

“Autour d’un auteur”

In his Études bibliques, a reprint of six previously published essays, and his Études évangéliques, a collection of five essays, four of them on the Gospel of John and three of these reprints, and a long opening chapter on the parables, Loisy continued the line of research that he himself characterised as “purement historique et critique”.56 In the essay on the parables he ardently defends their authenticity against the over-critical views of Renan and the Tübingen school by pointing out how the latter do not distinguish between the original and later additions that are (often) easily detectable. This mistake led to wrong conclusions. Loisy cites as an example the Parable of the Great Supper. Matt 22,7 obviously is an addition made after the fall of the city and the Temple and unknown by Luke, just as the double tour of recruitment in Luke 14,22–23 is ignored by Matthew. Loisy thus presents himself as a defendant of the authenticity, while at the same time pointing out methodological mistakes in the positions and conclusions of liberal exegetes. His conclusion, Dans sa forme primitif, la parabole convient au temps de Jésus et nullement a l’âge apostolique. Si donc on a contesté l’authenticité de ces paraboles, c’est qu’on ne les avait pas étudiées avec une méthode assez sûre et qu’on ne les avait pas bien comprises.57

Three things should be noted. First, Loisy leaves aside any reference to source criticism in this part of his discussion. Second, he presents “his method” as the 54 55

56 57

Les Évangiles synoptiques. Traduction et commentaire. On Batiffol, who had his own problems in the modernist crisis, see, a.o., Talar, Pierre Batiffol. The article appeared in a work that tries to distinguish between various “modernist” authors in terms of “left”, “right”, and “centre”. The model was borrowed from the introduction to Poulat’s edition of an unpublished work by Henri Brémond that appeared in 1972 and in which Poulat situates Loisy in the middle with on the right the “progressisme” of Batiffol, Lagrange and Grandmaison and on the left the “nationalisme” of Houtin and Turmel (“Introduction”, 21–22). See the comments in Lannoy et al., “Mon cher Mithra …”, I, xxix. Études évangéliques, v. Ibid., 3.

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sole viable one, without specifying on this occasion of what it consists, but in line with what he wrote in the introduction cited above he clearly means an historical-critical method that leads to “understanding”. And third, one will notice, and perhaps appreciate, the way he extrapolates in this conclusion the results from this one example. The method goes for all parables and can “save” them from all too critical minds. It is quite a “diplomatic” approach. All this changes when Loisy leaves the strictly exegetical field with his “little book” on L’Évangile et l’Église in which he addresses issues related to ecclesiology and other subjects of systematic theology.58 The move is not completely surprising, as it is actually part of his programme as he had laid it out in his preface in launching L’enseignement biblique. The reaction from the bishops was catastrophic, diplomacy was nowhere to be found, so it seemed, and Loisy in a sense contributed to the debacle with his series of “open letters” published in his Autour d’un petit livre. Two examples may suffice to give a taste of the tone and argument he uses. In the Preface (“Avant-propos”) Loisy, all the time writing in the third person, singles out the conditions needed for academic work and the circumstances in which the latter ideally should be conducted: La première condition du travail scientifique est la liberté. Le premier devoir du savant, catholique ou non, est la sincérité.59

In a letter addressed to “a bishop” on gospel criticism, Loisy speaks frankly and ad hominem: Votre Grandeur a écrit avec beaucoup de raison que les problèmes de science religieuse s’éclaircissent moins par des censures officielles que par une discussion loyale. Mais y a-til discussion quand celui qui entame le débat se donne tous les avantages, déclarant que sa méthode et ses conclusions sont les seules bonnes, se faisant juge de celui qu’il prend pour adversaire, et le traitant en égaré dont on aura pitié s’il empresse d’abjurer ses

58

59

The editors of the correspondence with Cumont rightly evoke the importance of this book when writing, “Le début de la ‘vraie’ crise moderniste est communément situé en 1902 avec la publication de L’Évangile et l’Église de Loisy” (I, xxv). In 1912, Cumont would remind Loisy of Nathan Söderblom’s enthusiast evaluation of the book which he adds to his own opinion when writing, “Le pape actuel a commis, je crois, une faute énorme en n’utilisant pas vos services au profit de l’Église au lieu de vous en exclure. Je vous ai répété, je pense, le mot que me disait Söderblom à Upsal: ‘L’Évangile et l’Église est la plus puissante apologie du catholicisme qui ait paru depuis Newman’” (Letter 63), cf. Lannoy et al., “Mon cher Mithra …”, I, 57. Two elements are of importance here: Söderblom’s comments are most probably inspired by Loisy’s continuous criticism of Harnack, and with the latter, of a whole liberal protestant tradition; but the real importance of the book (and other of his publications) is Loisy’s repeated emphasis on the historical character of the Christian dogma, as the editors of the correspondence point out by citing, quite appropriately, in this context Loisy’s ironic self-characterisation as “l’Einstein de l’histoire des religions” (Letter 250, cited I, xxvi). Autour d’un petit livre, x.

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Joseph Verheyden erreurs? Vous n’avez pas réellement fait la critique de mon livre, je ne ferai pas non plus la critique de votre lettre.60

The same direct and open tone is met when dealing with the goal and method of biblical studies: Pour commencer, Monseigneur, je déclare franchement que je ne comprends pas votre position exégétique. Je ne vois pas comment un critique catholique pourrait être moins libre qu’un critique protestant et qu’un incrédule dans l’examen des questions d’authenticité ou dans le commentaire historique de l’Écriture. Notre foi ne détermine pas l’attribution des écrits ni le sens primitive des textes bibliques.61

A war had started between Loisy and the ecclesial authorities, and this and similar passages in his book very much sound like war language. Yet, it is important to realise that Loisy still wishes to continue the dialogue, hence to play it on the diplomatic level; only, by this time, the stakes had been raised and the language become very straightforward. I imagine it is diplomatic language for a situation of crisis. The problem with it is that Loisy was not (or no longer) in a position to use this type of discourse, but apparently did not sense this. As far as the other side is concerned, the dispute is not about the benefits of historical-critical exegesis anymore, but about accepting authority.

2.3.

A Different Approach?

Pierre Batiffol’s Six leçons sur les Évangiles, first published in 1896, reproduced the text of six lectures he had given in February and March of that year at the Institut catholique in Paris, where also Loisy had taught, on a quite unexpected occasion: the installation of a curriculum for women students. The goal was nothing less than to introduce the audience in “l’histoire des origines catholiques” (not: “chrétiennes”).62 In the third lecture, Batiffol first deals with the Gospel of Mark and then turns to the synoptic problem itself. He faces the same problem as Loisy: how to accept Markan priority without completely giving up on Matthew’s as argued by Papias. Batiffol distinguishes between “triple” and “double tradition” (and actually uses these phrases63) and material that is peculiar to one of the two longer gospels, but the distinction does not really matter for the latter, as we shall see. He firmly resists those – no one is named by name64 – who have retreated from the challenge and declared the synoptic question insoluble:

60 61 62 63 64

Ibid., 62. Ibid., 64. Six leçons, 1. Ibid., 62. Ibid., 63: “certains milieux”.

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On ne saurait avoir une attitude moins scientifique. Non, il ne faut jamais dire qu’un problème est insoluble.65

It sounds almost rationalistic, but the solution is far less imaginative than one might perhaps think on reading these words. Batiffol begins by discarding two hypotheses: the Augustinian hypothesis is dismissed most succinctly but convincingly: Marc est un abrégé de Mathieu, et Luc une combinaison de Marc et de Mathieu: ce que l’on ne constate pas. Et alors même qu’il en serait ainsi, on aurait bien l’explication des coïncidences de nos trois évangiles, mais non de leurs dissidences.66

The evidence just does not add up to such a conclusion and the verdict is harsh but fair: “à l’heure actuelle la plus démodée des hypotheses”.67 The oral tradition hypothesis fares a bit better. There can be no doubt that at one point there must have existed a kind of “Évangile oral”, but two observations count against this hypothesis as an explanation of the three gospels. First, Luke’s prologue is cited as evidence that there must have been more to it: “Saint Luc distingue bien nettement la parole non écrite et les essais de rédaction”.68 Second, such a hypothesis cannot explain the differences between the three gospels, especially in passages that are deemed to be crucial, such as the Lord’s Prayer, missing in Mark and preserved in different forms in Luke and Matthew. On this basis, Batiffol dismisses the hypothesis as “insuffisante”, but the second of his arguments poses its own problems, as will be shown below. The hypothesis he wishes to promote is finely introduced as the one that is apparently widely accepted in his day: “on formule de préférence, à l’heure actuelle”.69 Markan priority is presented as the natural explanation for the triple 65

66 67 68 69

Ibid. In his long article on the synoptic gospels in the Dictionnaire de la Bible, E. Mangenot took issue with this attitude in dealing with the synoptic problem, when writing that the many efforts made in solving the problem “ont démontré au moins la complexité du problème synoptique et l’extrême difficulté, sinon l’impossibilité absolue de lui donner, à l’aide des moyens dont dispose actuellement l’érudition, une solution adéquate et certaine”. He repeats his verdict two more times on the same page: “Ces conclusions sont loin d’être certaines” and “dans l’état actuelle de la science, il nous paraît tout à fait impossible de déterminer avec certitude le nombre, la nature et le contenu des sources consultées, à plus forte raison de les classer et de dire dans quelle mesure elles ont été utilisées par les évangélistes” (Évangiles, 2058–2099, here 2098). His main interest, it seems, is to show the relativity of all such attempts, to emphasise that source criticism does not by definition invalidate the teaching of the Church on the inspiration of Scripture, and to draw attention to the role of oral tradition. One could read this as a diplomatic way to safeguard the value of source criticism, or as a way to minimise its importance. I tend to the second. Six leçons, 64. Ibid. Ibid., 64–65. Ibid., 65.

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tradition, and just as obvious is the conclusion that Matthew and Luke are independent from each other: Si l’on compare les trois rédactions, on constate sans peine que Matthieu et Luc sont indépendants l’un de l’autre, et que des trois l’original est Marc.70

Common sense reigns. The conclusion reached for the triple tradition is the basis for tackling the double tradition material. One notes here the same kind of approach to the material by Matthew and by Luke as to the triple tradition, hence one is entitled to a similar conclusion: On en vient à penser qu’ils dépendent d’un évangile différent de Marc.71

This is again presented as the majority opinion. The basic argument is the presence of doublets to Markan material in the two longer gospels. Mark 13,9– 13 and parallels serves as example.72 This second source-gospel is further defined as, plus ancien que Marc, connu de Marc, et qui serait un évangile presque tout en maximes, en paraboles, en discours de Jésus.73

One thing remains to be done and that is establish the link with Papias. Here Batiffol goes his own way. The long passage is worth citing in full for its diplomatic tone and intent. This second source is une source évangélique autre que Marc, sorte de recueil des Dits du Seigneur (Λόγια κυριακά), dont des critiques récents, M. Resch surtout, ont pensé entrevoir les vestiges hébreux dans le texte grec des évangiles existants, – un peu comme les Bretons entrevoient les restes d’Ys sous la surface de la mer! – On veut trouver une allusion à ces Dits du Seigneur dans Papias. Papias, en effet, rapportant une parole d’un presbytre contemporain de saint Jean, parle d’un évangéliste ‘hébreu’ et plus ancien que Marc même … Quant au nom de l’évangéliste qui rédigea ainsi en hébreu ou araméen les Dits du Seigneur, Papias croit savoir son nom, il en fait un apôtre, le publicain de Capharnaum, saint Mathieu. A ce compte, Mathieu aurait rédigé en araméen le premier de tous les évangiles, et son nom aurait été donné à l’évangile grec, notre évangile ‘selon saint Mathieu’, qui fut comme une adaptation à l’usage des grecs de l’évangile araméen.74

There is a lot of interesting material in this one long passage. Batiffol calls this second source “a kind of” (“sorte de”) collection of Logia. He is most sceptic about any attempts at using the double tradition material to unearth an older Aramaic form of it, and does not spare his irony when referring to those who have argued in this way. He also distances himself as much as possible from attempts at linking this source directly to Papias’ testimony.75 Finally, he uses the subjunctive for describing the attribution of this source to Matthew and the 70 71 72 73 74 75

Ibid., 66. Ibid., 66–67. Ibid., 67–68. Ibid., 70. Ibid., 69. Ibid.: “On veut trouver une allusion”.

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relation to Greek Matthew. It is as far as one can go in showing one’s scepticism, without openly saying that Papias’ Logia are not the source of the double tradition material. Batiffol has not openly denied the position of Papias, but also not positively ascribed to it, while speaking all the time about the latter’s theory. This is prototypical diplomatic language. Everyone can find his/her opinion expressed in it. Batiffol’s way of presenting things obviously also affects the place given to Mark. It is said he is younger than this second source and made use of it, which is in line with what Papias had said about the Hebrew Matthew being the source of all three evangelists. But if the status of Papias as a witness has changed, or perhaps is even somehow compromised, without explicitly saying so, this naturally means that what is said about the relation of Mark to that source should also not be taken too literally. If the second source is “something like” Papias’ “Hebrew Matthew”/Logia, there is no reason to conclude that Mark must have used this source precisely in the way Papias said the three evangelists used “Hebrew Matthew”, i.e., as the basic source for writing their gospel. That said, one should note that there remains a problem with accepting any sort of relation of dependence between Mark and the second source, because it leaves unexplained why Mark missed out, or ignored, sayings material that is commonly considered to be most valuable. If the oral tradition hypothesis is dismissed as “insufficient” because it cannot account for the absence of the Lord’s Prayer in the Second Gospel (see above), the same would all the more so be true for postulating a link between Mark and Matthew’s and Luke’s second source. Did Batiffol miss the inconsistency in his reasoning and is this a (unconscious) remnant of the influence of the Papias hypothesis that accepts influence on all three gospels? Or is something more at stake? An indication that the latter might be the case is the fact that Batiffol remains completely silent about what he saw as the second of his two objections against the oral tradition hypothesis and even took the trouble to illustrate from the Lord’s Prayer (see above). What posed a problem on p. 65 cannot have been forgotten on p. 67. The solution might lie in the wording Batiffol uses for describing Mark’s connection with the source and in the status he (implicitly) wishes to give that source. Mark could just not afford missing out on central sections of the one “Oral Gospel” that had dominated Christian preaching for decades and became not just the model, but the sole source for the evangelists to shape their gospels. The latter were nothing more than “the Oral put-inwriting”. Things may be different with sources. Batiffol does not say that Mark “used” the second source, but that he “knew” it (“connu de Marc”). But there is more. Batiffol sees no problem in ascribing all the Sondergut in Matthew and Luke to the same source, which he still calls “l’évangile primitif araméen”,76 but now considers to be a “mere” source when comparing the way Matthew and Luke 76

Ibid., 70.

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(Mark is not mentioned!) use this source to the way they use Mark, emphasising the freedom with which they went about: On voit, en effet, à la façon dont Mathieu et Luc ont traité Marc qu’ils recueillent les éléments de leur composition personnelle avec une certaine liberté de choix: l’un peut négliger ce que l’autre préfère.77

This changes everything! If Matthew and Luke are granted such a degree of freedom, we are in a different world than that of “the Oral Gospel”, which one was apparently not allowed to change or select from, according to Batiffol’s presentation. One can still go on calling it “a primitive Aramaic gospel”, if one wishes, but actually what one is dealing with is a source, like Mark. Authorial freedom and flexibility are the keywords, and the contents and purpose of this “Aramaic gospel” actually invite later users to handle it as they think best fits their purpose. In stressing and developing this, Batiffol, all of a sudden, no longer speaks of “the gospels”, but more generally of “ces vieux textes”, which one might suppose includes “written sources” of the canonical gospels. These texts do not want to be historical accounts, or not just that. They are “didascalies”: Ils sont écrits pour fixer une prédication orale. … Ils sont historiques, en fait, parce qu’ils répètent ce qui a été vu et entendu, mais ils sont didactiques dans l’intention de ceux qui les ont rédigés.78

The “gospel” has become a “source”, whatever the title it is given. And with it comes the freedom for others to use it as they see fit. That opens up perspectives for assuming that Mark “knew” a source that he used quite differently from how it was used by the two other evangelists, who differed among themselves in the way they used it. It looks like the perfect solution. Everything is explained: Mark is the basic source of Matthew and Luke for the narrative material, Papias’ theory plays a role, though not the one he probably intended it to play, and all evangelists enjoy a freedom they had never enjoyed before. And all of this in a language that as much as possible tries to save all sides. That is true diplomacy. One might perhaps object I may have been reading too much into Batiffol’s presentation and that the one victim in all of this is “Q”, which is not mentioned by that name and still seems to be obscured by Papias’ Logia. Yet I think I am on the right track, because the way Batiffol handles the status and value of the latter’s testimony and brings in authorial freedom gives me reason to think that the bounds with Papias have been significantly loosened.79

77 78 79

Ibid. Ibid., 73. On the identification of Q with Papias’ Logia, see Kloppenborg, Excavating Q, 338–343.

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2.4.

167

Lagrange Intervenes

In 1903 Lagrange published a long review of Loisy’s little book, to which he added the next year a chapter in his book on biblical method that is conceived as a sort of open letter to his friend Batiffol.80 Lagrange discusses in detail the major points addressed in Loisy’s book and offers a quite balanced appreciation of it, though it is obvious that he does not agree.81 The synoptic question does not really have his attention. In the letter to Batiffol, however, he inserts a remarkably favourable passage on the question that links his two addressees together: La critique paraît vraiment d’accord sur ce point que saint Marc peut être considéré, avec un autre document qu’on nomme Logia, comme une source par rapport à saint Matthieu et à saint Luc. Saint Luc avait d’autres sources, et on peut conjecturer que Marc s’est servi, lui aussi, de documents antérieurs. On ne peut reprocher à M. Loisy de prendre cette hypothèse pour base; vous-même, cher ami, l’aviez acceptée dans vos leçons sur les Évangiles, car elle est généralement admise.82

It is a jewel of diplomatic speech, though it is not without any danger. One will note the double emphasis, at the beginning and again at the end of the little passage, on the fact that the theory described is generally admitted. No names or references are given, which at the same time strengthens the general character of the statement, but also might make others suspicious of why this is lacking. Papias is not mentioned by name, which may give the impression that the Logia have nothing to do with him, but that very word itself would allow one to bring up his name if need be. Loisy is in a sense protected by linking his name to that of Batiffol. The risk that such a move might expose the latter to possible 80

81

82

Lagrange, Review; Id., La méthode historique, 221–259 (“Appendice: Jésus et la critique des Évangiles. À Mgr Pierre Batiffol”). Many others were much more negative than Lagrange. See, e.g., the reaction of Mgr Monchamp, “Vicaire-Général de Sa Grandeur Monseigneur l’Évêque de Liège” and member of the Royal Academy of Belgium, who in Les erreurs de M. Alfred Loisy lists numerous excerpts from Loisy’ booklet with ample refutations. Thirty years later Lagrange would dedicate a whole book to Loisy entitled M. Loisy et le modernisme in response to the publication of the latter’s Mémoires. And he would of course recall the whole history once more in his Souvenirs personnels (see esp. 119–146 on the years 1903–04). Cf. also Heiler, Alfred Loisy. Beside their common dislike for Renan (see above n. 27), Loisy and Cumont also shared their critical opinion on Lagrange as a person and an intellectual. Cumont shoots first when writing, “Lagrange est sans doute tenu actuellement de faire montre d’orthodoxie – même aux dépens d’autrui. C’est là un défaut de caractère, mais il a aussi une tare intellectuelle: c’est le manque de precision dans l’esprit et de logique dans les idées” (Letter 45, dated August, 1 1911), to which Loisy replies almost immediately, “Ce que vous pensez de Lagrange me fait plaisir. J’ai toujours supposé que le Saint-Esprit ne lui avait attribué que le don de science. Lui-même en a quelque soupçon, et c’est pour cela qu’il prend de si grands airs, – feignant d’avoir le don qu’il n’a pas, – et qu’il est toujours de méchante humeur” (Letter 46, August 6); cf. “Mon cher Mithra …”, I, 41 and 42. La méthode historique, 248–249.

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criticism is limited by the fact that both are said to have the support of Lagrange himself in putting forward their views on the question. But perhaps most remarkable about the passage is the note that is added at the end. Here Lagrange takes his distance from Loisy on the latter’s view that the Gospel of Matthew is to be dated after 70. It is called “une question spéciale” that for now can be left aside. Again one can read this as if it is not a crucial question, or as a way somehow to preserve the priority of Matthew, i.e., most probably Aramaic/ Hebrew Matthew, without naming the latter by name. Lagrange’s diplomatic skills border the ambiguous, and that is most probably how the passage is best read.

2.5.

Loisy’s “Big Book”: Les Évangiles synoptiques 2.0

The scale of his new version of Les Évangiles synoptiques allowed Loisy to go into more detail, but it is above all the tone of some of his statements that shows the development he had made since he had given up on the earlier version. The first chapter, almost 60 pages, takes up again the question of the value of the ancient witnesses for studying the synoptic problem. Their value is nihil, or so it seems, when reading through the long treatment and, above all, when reaching the final lines which read like a creed, Au fond, l’Église avait été guidée dans son choix comme par un instinct supérieur à toute critique théologique ou littéraire; mais, entre 150 et 170, lorsque le canon évangélique fut définitivement arrêté, elle ignorait les circonstances de la composition des livres qu’elle attribuait à Matthieu, à Marc, à Luc et à Jean. Le défaut d’opposition pour ce qui regarde l’attribution des Synoptiques ne prouve pas la certitude de cette attribution. L’on aurait eu presque autant de facilité à contester le premier Évangile à Matthieu que n’importe quel apocryphe à l’auteur dont il se réclame. Matthieu n’est pas l’évangile de Matthieu; Marc n’est pas l’évangile de Pierre; Luc n’est pas l’évangile de Paul. Rien ou presque rien des rapports conçus par la tradition ne subsiste devant la critique. Restent à expliquer les véritables rapports des noms aux livres, l’origine de ceux-ci, et celle de la tradition qui les concerne.83

The ancient witnesses count for nothing when it comes to establish the origin of the gospels. They did not know what they were talking about. Copying one another is not proof of truth. In short, all the serious work has still to be done. It counts as a concluding statement on the matter. In the second chapter of the Introduction, some 25 pages long, Loisy deals with source and synoptic criticism. He reviews 19th century research, ending with J. Wellhausen, W. Wrede and J. Weiss, and then explains his own position. In a phrase that in part recalls the one just cited, he dismisses the exclusive use of oral tradition, points out the limits of tradition hypotheses, and does away

83

Les Évangiles synoptiques, 57–58.

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again with the commonly held views on the identity and background of the evangelists: En ce qui concerne l’origine des Synoptiques, il paraît certain que pas un d’eux ne repose directement et complètement sur la tradition orale, qu’aucun d’eux n’est l’expression immédiate de souvenirs gardés par un témoin. L’hypothèse de la tradition ne suffit pas à résoudre le problème. L’attribution du premier Évangile à l’apôtre Matthieu n’est pas soutenable; celle du second Évangile à un disciple de Pierre soulève de très sérieuses objections; et si le troisième Évangile a été écrit par un disciple de Paul, on doit reconnaître que cette circonstance ne jette pas beaucoup de lumière sur sa composition, ses tendances et son objet.84

The arguments are based in part on what Loisy had demonstrated in the first chapter and in part on the difficulties with any such hypotheses, as shown in the survey of secondary literature in this second chapter. But it is not just about oral tradition or eyewitnesses. Also in the field of literary dependence a cleansing is needed. One pillar of much of the 19th century research is just blown away: L’hypothèse d’une source unique où les trois Synoptiques auraient puisé directement, et qui aurait contenu l’ensemble des récits et des discours évangéliques, est gratuite en ellemême, elle ne rend pas compte du rapport des Évangiles ni de leur origine. Il n’y a pas eu de protévangile contenant toute la substance de Matthieu, de Marc et de Luc.85

Any form of Ur-Gospel, including Papias’ Hebrew/Aramaic Matthew, is chased out of the building. The next blow is dealt to utilisation hypotheses – Augustine or Griesbach, or anything of that sort – that try to explain the evidence for the relationship between the gospels solely within the context of the latter without allowing space for other sources: L’hypothèse de l’utilisation, quel que soit l’ordre qu’on assigne aux Évangiles, n’est pas plus satisfaisante que les précédentes, si l’on veut s’y tenir exclusivement.86

The one viable solution for Loisy is to postulate the existence of written sources, in the plural and not necessarily the same, that were used by the three evangelists. He links to this the firm conviction of Markan priority: Il a existé des sources antérieures à nos évangiles canoniques, même à Marc. … Aucun évangile ne représente une seule source primitive, sans mélange d’éléments pris ailleurs. Marc est antérieur aux deux autres Synoptiques et leur a servi de source … Les rédacteurs des deux autres Synoptiques ont dû connaître Marc dans sa forme actuelle. Mais l’hypothèse de sources que Matthieu et Luc auraient connues, comme ils ont connu Marc, semble recevable pour Marc lui-même.87

The reasoning is more complicated than one at first might think. All three evangelists, including Mark, used sources, there can be no doubt about that; which means the direct link to the eyewitnesses is severed or significantly loosened. Mark used sources, but there was no such thing as a proto- or an Ur84 85 86 87

Ibid., 81. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid.

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Mark (or for that matter, a Deutero-Mark) – all of these hypotheses Loisy considers to be “pas très probable”, which sounds slightly more hesitant or less firm than the rest of the phrase, but that is only an impression. Actually, the situation is more fuzzy and diverse. That makes it impossible, and in a sense also useless, to try and reconstruct any of these sources of Mark, or for that matter, to speculate about whether they might perhaps also have influenced Matthew and/or Luke. There is no reason for assuming the latter, as it is Mark, not one of his sources, that inspired Matthew and Luke. Finally, and perhaps most remarkable of all, the hypothesis of Markan priority opens the gate to postulate both that Mark himself also has used sources and, most important for us, that Matthew and Luke may have had other source material in common besides Mark. The path is laid out for at least one more common source. What we have read so far on the ancient witnesses and on Markan priority is diplomatic language of a kind – it is like ultimatum language. There is no way back. This is what the evidence forces us to accept. Unfortunately for Loisy, he was not in the position to speak out in this way with any hope to be heard and to turn things to his advantage. One might say it is ultimatum language used by the wrong person at the wrong time, which makes it sound almost like a cry of despair. But then something strange happens: suddenly, the author starts to adapt a less apodictic tone, to become less assertive, and even in part to back-pedal on his position. It begins with what he has to say about another source Matthew and Luke have in common: Les discours qui sont communs à Matthieu et à Luc, et qui ne sont pas dans Marc, viennent très vraisemblablement d’une source spéciale; mais il est probable que cette source existait en des recensions différentes, et que Matthieu et Luc n’ont pas exploité la même recension. Il n’est pas tout à fait certain que le document primitif ait été rédigé en araméen. La dépendance de Marc à l’égard de ce document paraît incontestable, bien qu’elle n’ait été admise jusqu’à présent que par un petit nombre de critiques. Il paraît douteux que cette source ait contenu d’abord une esquisse de la carrière de Jésus, et peutêtre ne contenait-elle en fait de récits que certaines notices réclamées pour l’introduction de telle ou telle sentence.88

With regard to language and style, one notes the use of “probable”, “pas tout à fait certain”, and the double “paraît”, which stands somehow in tension with the more affirmative way Loisy defends the existence of the common source (“très vraisemblablement”). With regard to content, one notes the support for a recension theory, which is in itself not remarkable, and the emphasis on the almost exclusive discursive character of the source, in line with what one expects a “sayings source” to be. Two other assertions are more disturbing. Mark is said to have had access to that same source, which destroys the definition that is given of it at the beginning (“qui ne sont pas dans Marc”), and the source is said, with only slightly less assertion, to have been written in Aramaic, which 88

Ibid., 81–82.

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lets in again the ghost of Papias’ Logia one had thought to have been exorcised by now. But it does not end there. Mark had access to a short account of the life and ministry of Jesus that is distinct from the common source, but also seems to obscure what had been said before about the indistinct number of written sources that had circulated. So a kind of proto-Mark. More disturbing still is the statement that this common source may well have been composed by Matthew, just as proto-Mark may be assigned to the second evangelist and Luke may well have penned the third gospel in his capacity as companion of Paul: L’évangéliste a dû connaître une sorte d’histoire abrégée du ministère du Christ, laquelle n’encadrait pas l’objet de la prédication évangélique, et peut être considérée comme primitivement distincte du recueil de discours. … Il est possible que la première rédaction des discours du Seigneur soit de l’apôtre Matthieu; que le récit qui est à la base du second Évangile soit d’un Marc disciple de Pierre; que le troisième Évangile ait été attribué à Luc, parce que ce disciple de Paul était l’auteur du journal de voyage qui a été incorporé au livre des Actes.89

Loisy may well emphasise in the same context that the gospels were not the sole property of their authors but belonged to the communities for which they wrote, and he may also reckon with the possibility that the longer gospels have probably been altered or added upon well into the second century, but the overall impression is that we are back where it had all begun, and that all the talking about getting rid of a Hebrew Matthew and about the multiplicity of sources at hand to Mark in writing his gospel is forgotten. The turnabout continues in the last paragraphs. The discourse material in the common source is without any doubt reliable and reliably transmitted by the evangelists. Any differences between Matthew and Luke in this respect are passed over in silence, for now at least, as is the fact that Mark made a less than compelling use of that source in feeding into his narrative material related to Jesus’ teaching. The situation may be slightly different for the narrative material, but here as well one has to admit that there is a good deal of authentic material in Mark, as Loisy argues with reference to the “middle way” (“quelque opinion moyenne”) between the position of those who think that everything (F. C. Burkitt) or nothing (W. Wrede) in the gospel accounts is historically reliable, which allows him to conclude, in the line of J. Weiss, that, all doctrinal and apologetic interests and intentions notwithstanding, Mark is built on “une chaîne de souvenirs proprement traditionnels”.90 There are still some open ends – the discussion on how to explain the differences in the Infancy Narratives and the Resurrection Narratives is not closed yet –, but the net conclusion is that the gospels provide solid material to build on for reconstructing the teaching and (part of) the life of Jesus. In the end, one is entitled to say that the sources, rather 89

90

Ibid., 82. Ibid., 83.

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than severing the ties with the eyewitnesses, as one may have thought in reading the first part of Loisy’s conclusion, help to keep the link in place. When all is said and done, it turns out that the ultimatum language has given way to a much more reconciling tone, one that helps place its author safely back on middle ground, including the possibility that Mark existed in an earlier form and “Q” was after all Matthew’s first attempt at preserving and creating a picture of Jesus.

3.

Conclusion

I have limited myself to a short period of only fifteen years, but it was a crucial time, one in which long-closed windows were opened and things got going. It brought about tensions, disputes, and tragedy. Loisy took centre stage, one or two others tried to follow suit or at least to cope with him without utterly condemning him. I have focused on the way these authors tried to present and defend their views on the synoptic problem and the postulated common source to Matthew and Luke that some in Germany had come to call “Q”, rather than on the controversies that surrounded and came from it. It was a conscious decision, and one that may help to give an insight in the way these people were working. I used the category of “diplomatic language” to qualify their discourse without having the intention to dismiss other useful categories such as that of “camouflaging”. All controversies and all initiatives for self-defence notwithstanding, these scholars above all wanted to continue their biblical research in as serene an atmosphere as possible and while staying true to the standards of critical biblical scholarship they had received from others and were working to get introduced into the Church. And then came the year 1912, “l’année terrible”,91 and everything changed, and for a very long time, but that is a topic for another paper.92

91 92

So the title of a chapter in Lagrange, Souvenirs personnels, 200–212. See the articles by Kloppenborg, Viviano and Tiwald mentioned above. A telling example is the article on “Évangiles et Commission biblique” in the supplement to the Dictionnaire de la Bible by L. Pirot, the editor in chief of the Supplements, that contains long sections against the 2DH that bear such titles as “Aucun témoignage traditionnel ne peut être invoqué en faveur de l’hypothèse des deux sources” and “L’hypothèse des deux sources manque de base historique” (1228–1229), which look like the opposite of the kind of subtitles that can be found in Loisy’s Évangiles synoptiques.

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Bibliography Amsler, F. (ed.), Dossier: Quelle place pour Alfred Loisy dans l’histoire de la recherché en exégèse biblique et en sciences des religions?, in: Mythos. Rivista di storia delle religioni 7 (2013), 8–143. Andretta, S., Péquignot, S., Wequet, J.-C., De l’ambassadeur: les écrits relatifs à l’ambassadeur et à l’art de négocier du Moyen-Âge au début du xixe siècle, Rome 2015. Arifon, O., Langage diplomatique et langage formel: un code à double entente, in: Hermès 58 (2010), 69–78. Batiffol, P., Six leçons sur les Évangiles, Paris 1896, ²-³1897, 61902, 91907. Cerfaux, L., L’utilisation de la Source Q par Luc. Introduction du séminaire, in: F. Neirynck (ed.), L’Évangile de Luc – The Gospel of Luke (BETL 32), Leuven 1973, enlarged repr. 1989, 285–293. Boyer de Sainte Suzanne, R. de, Alfred Loisy entre la foi et l’incroyance, Paris 1968. Farmer, W. R., The Synoptic Problem: A Critical Analysis, New York 1964. Foster, P., Gregory, A., Kloppenborg, J. S., Verheyden, J. (ed.), New Studies in the Synoptic Problem. Oxford Conference, April 2008. Essays in Honour of Christopher M. Tuckett (BETL 239), Leuven 2011. Goodacre, M. S., Goulder and the Gospels: An Examination of a New Paradigm (JSNTSup 133), Sheffield 1996. Goulder, M. D., Luke: A New Paradigm, 2 vols. (JSNTSup 20), Sheffield 1989. Heiler, F., Alfred Loisy (1857–1940) der Vater des katholischen Modernismus, München 1947. Hill, H., The Politics of Modernism. Alfred Loisy’s Modernism in Light of His Autobiographies, Washington D.C. 2002. Houtin, A., Sartiaux, F., Alfred Loisy. Sa vie – son oeuvre. Manuscrit annoté et publié avec une Bibliographie Loisy et un Index Bio-Bibliographique éd. par É. Poulat, Paris 1960. Ivaldo, M., Religione e cristianesimo in Alfred Loisy, Firenze 1977. Kissinger, H. A., Diplomacy, New York 1994. Kloppenborg Verbin, J., Excavating Q. The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel, Minneapolis 2000. Kloppenborg, J. S., Camouflaging Q: The Catholic 2DH from Lagrange to Sickenberger and Beyond, in: J. S. Kloppenborg/J. Verheyden (ed.), Theological and Theoretical Issues in the Synoptic Problem (LNTS 618), London 2020, 165–188. Lacoste, E., Les dernières semaines d’Alfred Loisy suivi de quelques souvenirs, Lille 1963. Lagrange, M.-J., Review of Loisy’s L’Église et l’Évangile, in: RB 12 (1903), 292–313. Lagrange, M.-J., La méthode historique, Paris 1903, repr. 1904, 1966 (with the subtitle “La critique biblique et l’Église” and a foreword by R. de Vaux). Lagrange, M.-J., M. Loisy et le modernisme. À propos des “Mémoires”, Juvisy 1932. Lagrange, M.-J., Le Père Lagrange au service de la Bible. Souvenirs personnels. Préface de P. Benoit, Paris 1967. Lannoy, A., Bonnet, C., Praet, D., “Mon cher Mithra …”. La correspondence entre Franz Cumont et Alfred Loisy. Édition, introduction et notes, 2 vols., Paris 2019. Lannoy, A., Alfred Loisy: The Einstein of History of Religions. Exploring the Development of the Study of Religion in Europe (1890–1920) (Religionsgeschichtliche Versuche und Vorarbeiten), Berlin – Boston (forthcoming). Loisy, A., Les Évangiles synoptiques. Traduction et commentaire, in : A. Loisy, L’enseignement biblique, Paris 1893–94. Loisy, A., Les Évangiles synoptiques. Traduction et commentaire, Amiens 1896. Loisy, A., Études bibliques, Paris 1901. Loisy, A., Études évangéliques, Paris 1902. Loisy, A., L’Évangile et l’Église, Paris 1902, 51929 (with a new Preface). Loisy, A., Autour d’un petit livre, Paris 1903. Loisy, A., Les Évangiles synoptiques, 2 vols., Ceffonds 1907–08. Loisy, A., Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire religieuse de notre temps, 3 vols., Paris 1930–31.

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Mangenot, E., Art. “Évangiles”, in: Dictionnaire de la Bible 2, Paris 1911, 2058–2099. Mihalovics, A., Les actes de langage directifs d’un discours diplomatique, in: Studia Universitatis Babes-Bolyai – Philologia, 55 (2010), 263–272. Monchamp, G., Les erreurs de M. Alfred Loisy dans son livre “l’Évangile et l’Église”, Paris – Leipzig – Tournai 1904. Pasquier, H., La solution du problème synoptique, Tours 1911. Pesch, W., Josef Schmid wird 80 Jahre, in: P. Hoffmann et al. (ed.), Orientierung an Jesus. Zur Theologie der Synoptiker. Für Josef Schmid, Freiburg 1973, 7–12. Petrie, Ch., Diplomatic History 1713–1933, London 1946. Petrie, Ch., Earlier Diplomatic History 1492–1713, London 1949. Pirot, L., Art. “Évangiles et Commission biblique”, in: Dictionnaire de la Bible. Supplément 2, Paris 1934, 1218–1297. Poulat, É., Introduction, in: Une oeuvre clandestine d’Henri Brémond: “Sylvain Leblanc, Un clerc qui n’a pas trahi, Alfred Loisy d’après ses mémoires, 1931”. Édition critique et dossier historique, Rome 1972. Ratcliffe, S., Diplomacy, Oxford 2016. Robinson, J. M., The History of Q Research, in: J. M. Robinson/P. Hoffmann/J. S. Kloppenborg (ed.), The Critical Edition of Q, Leuven 2000. Sanday, W. (ed.), Studies in the Synoptic Problem, Oxford 1911. Schmid, J., Matthäus und Lukas: Eine Untersuchung des Verhältnisses ihrer Evangelien (Biblische Studien 23/2–4), Freiburg 1930. Schmithals, W., Einleitung in die drei ersten Evangelien, Berlin – New York 1985. Scholtyseck, J., Freiberger, T., Art. “Diplomacy”, in: The Bonn Handbook of Globality, Bonn 2019, 1025–1037. Streeter, B. H., The Four Gospels: A Study of Origins, Treating of the Manuscript Tradition, Sources, Authorship, and Dates, London 1924. Talar, C. J. T., Le moderniste malgé lui: Pierre Batiffol, in: H. Hill/L.-P. Sardella/C. J. T. Talar, By Those Who Knew Them. French Modernists Left, Right, Centre, Washington D.C. 2008, 71–89. Tiwald, M., The Investment of Roman Catholics in the 2DH and Q, see the article in this volume. Tuckett, C. M., The Revival of the Griesbach Hypothesis: An Analysis and Appraisal (SNTSMS 44), Cambridge 1983. Viviano, B., French Catholic Scholars on the Synoptic Problem in the Late 19th and Early 20th Century, in: J. S. Kloppenborg, J. Verheyden (ed.), Theological and Theoretical Issues in the Synoptic Problem (LNTS 618), London 2020, 151–163. Watson, F., Gospel Writing. A Canonical Perspective, Grand Rapids, MI 2013.

 

Itinerant Radicalism: The Origin of an Exegetical Theory Gerd Theißen

The subject of my inaugural lecture as “Privatdozent” in November 1972 was: “Sociological literary aspects of the transmission of Jesus’ words in Early Christianity”. This lecture advocated the thesis that homeless wandering charismatics had transmitted the words of Jesus orally. An argument was the radicalism of these words in four topics: family, possession, work and protection. Only homeless itinerant people could represent in these fields a radical ethos in an authentic way. I interpreted their homelessness as a symptom of a crisis within Jewish society, which at that time made many people homeless, so that it was a common behaviour to leave house and farm. Therefore, also some young people who were looking for a new way of life could decide to live homeless as followers of Jesus; not all of them were uprooted by poverty. They followed their desire for a new life and the call of Jesus. After Easter, these followers of Jesus continued their itinerant existence, in this way becoming the founders of Early Christianity. The Logia Source has preserved their traditions, but there are traces of them also in other Early Christian writings. I called them “charismatics”, because they exerted influence without institutional power and started a new religious movement. An analogy to them were the itinerant Cynics. I published my lecture under the title “Itinerant Radicalism” in 19731 and worked out these thoughts four years later in a small book “Soziologie der Jesusbewegung” (1977). I should emphasize that I had found many elements of the thesis of itinerant radicalism in preceding research, but I put them together anew and gave them a new name.2 At any event, the thesis of itinerant radicalism found much resonance, including much criticism, of which I mention four points: 1. From the perspective of historical criticism, I cite as an example the question: Were the original Christian wandering charismatics homeless, or were they able to return in the evening to their hometown in the small country of Galilee? 2. A criticism from a historical-religious perspective asks whether the cynical itinerant philosophers were more than analogies. Were they the model of 1 2

Theißen, Wanderradikalismus, 245–271. Kretschmar, Askese, 27–67.

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the itinerant charismatics? Was the Jesus movement a Jewish form of cynicism? 3. A sociological criticism asks: Were Early Christian itinerant charismatics free in their decision to follow the call or forced by economic hardship? 4. An ethically motivated criticism disputed the thesis of an “anti-family ethos”. Was there a much greater continuity between Jesus’ words on the family and the more conservative family ethos of Paul? These and other critical objections of my thesis demonstrate that many discussed it. It may thus be justified to explore its origin. In principle, we must separate the context of origin of a thesis and its claim to validity. A scholarly hypothesis doesn’t lose its validity if the author wanted to make himself known by causing a scandal or if a dark ideology motivated him. Was my thesis perhaps an expression of the German “Wandervogel” youth movement and of German imperialism? That was the ingenious idea of W. E. Arnal.3 The “Wandervogel” movement indeed originated in Germany when European states competed for supremacy. The thesis of itinerant radicalism does not decrease in academic validity if we sympathise with the dreams of an alternative life beyond normal society that we discover there. I should add that my idea did not only meet with academic objections. Some Church leaders were not amused. One example from Protestantism and Catholicism each may suffice. After my habilitation in 1972, the Kiel Theological Faculty proposed me for appointment in 1975/6. I was primo loco on the list, but the minister of culture appointed the second-placed scholar. That happens very rarely, but is possible according to our laws. Later, I heard that the church had objected to my appointment. Sociology was suspicious. Such an ecclesial objection does not legally bind the state, but de facto prevents an appointment. The Catholic Church also had concerns. Of course, Rome could not prevent my appointment as professor. However, when the Catholic New Testament scholar H. J. Venetz (in Fribourg) took on my thesis of itinerant radicalism in a popular book 1982,4 he received a letter from the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith in Rome with critical inquiries. The idea that the Church might have emerged from a movement of vagabonds did not arouse enthusiasm in Rome. Its chairperson at that time was Cardinal Ratzinger, the later Pope Benedict XVI. In my semi-fictional novel “The Shadow of the Galilean” (1986) I, in return, transformed Cardinal Ratzinger into the “dear Mr. Kratzinger”, who pursues the emergence of my Jesus novel with mild scepticism.5 I should add that the mistrust of the church disappeared in the course of time. When the University of Heidelberg appointed me in 1980, the Church in 3 4 5

Arnal, Jesus and the Village Scribes. Venetz, Kirche. Theißen, Schatten des Galiläers.

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Baden supported me against reservations on the state side. Through my didactic novels “Der Schatten des Galiläers” and “Der Anwalt des Paulus”6 as well as my catechism “Glaubenssätze”7 I was able to overcome some reservations against my theology. In what follows, I will discuss the context in which the thesis of itinerant radicalism came into being from four perspectives and, in doing so, work out the conflicts and controversies that are associated with it. 1. I start with the biographical context, i.e. the question: In what personal situation did I develop this thesis in 1972, a thesis about outsiders who founded a world religion? Was I in those times also an outsider? Was I looking for a new beginning in my life like the followers of Jesus who had left everything? 2. Secondly, the thesis has a political context: Whoever spoke about radicalism in November 1972 spoke into a situation that was changed by a "Decree against radicals" of our government in the beginning of the same year. Our society was divided at that time by a deep conflict. 3. Thirdly, the development of the social sciences corresponded to this: Sociology emerged as a key science, but it was split into two wings: an empirical and a socio-critical (neo-Marxist) approach. Here conflicts within society were repeated in the academic field. 4. Fourth, also in theology there was a conflict between a theology of revelation which distanced itself to modern society (K. Barth) and a hermeneutic theology with more proximity to modernity (R. Bultmann). My teachers belonged to both currents. Privately, however, I had discovered Albert Schweitzer's liberal theology, which many theologians nearly had forgotten at that time. How could one do justice to all these currents in theology? In what follows, I will take a closer look at these four contexts. I am aware that I am “biased”. For I am talking about a thesis that I have developed myself. From an external perspective, one can probably see the historical context of my thesis much more clearly and critically. However, the internal perspective has one advantage: I know much more about the influences that have determined me in the articulation of this thesis than any other person.

1.

The Biographical Context

Itinerant radicalism has a root in my life. In my youth, as a boy scout, I made long hikes, the longest on a trip through Finland, Sweden and Norway. Among 6 7

Theißen, Anwalt des Paulus. Theißen, Glaubenssätze.

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the boy scouts, one wing was international. Another one followed the tradition of the German “Wandervogel” movement. Since I belonged to the last wing, it is convenient to ask whether there are connections between my theses and the “Wandervogel”, especially since Arnal linked my exegetical thesis of “itinerant radicalism” to this German youth movement and even to the military expansion policy of the German Empire. Therefore, I have to take a chronological step back. In 1884, Harnack published his interpretation of the Didache and discovered here wandering authorities in early Christianity who moved from one place to another.8 The German “Wandervogel” came into being in 1896 in Berlin and could not yet have inspired him.9 It was a protest movement, an expression of Romantic longing for nature and criticism of civilization, motivated by a new philosophy and reform of life. This youth movement was indeed involved in the history of German imperialism, but in a different way than Arnal thought. At the beginning of the first World War many “Wandervögel” enthusiastically went to war. Some of the survivors became militarists, others pacifists. After 1919, this youth movement in its second phase reshaped itself as the so-called “Bündische Jugend”. The National Socialists opposed the “Bündische Jugend”, since they saw in it a danger for the German youth. However, they imitated in their “HitlerJugend” their way of life. Many groups of the “Bündische Jugend” therefore merged into the Hitler-Jugend after 1933. Nevertheless, there was also a democratic wing. From this wing, the “Deutsche Jungenschaft” emerged in 1929. They called themselves “d.j. vom 1.11.” after its founding date. Some see in them a third phase of the German youth movement. They rejected the “Lebensbundprinzip”, i.e. the entry into a lifelong community, for this leads also to a lifelong dominance of the older members. Its founder, Eberhard Koebel (1907–1955), called “Tusk” (German), who once had been an admirer of Adolf Hitler, became a member of the communist party in 1932, but soon left the party again and tried in vain to get a position in the Hitler-Jugend.10 He had to emigrate in 1934. He introduced the “Jungenschaftsjacke” (boyhood jacket) into the youth movement and imported the Kohte from Lapland, a tent in which one could make fire and camp in winter. In addition, this “Jungenschaft” enriched the German songs of the youth movement by the international folklore of all peoples. Some members of the resistance against National Socialism “Weiße Rose” around the Scholl siblings came from the “deutsche Jungenschaft vom 1.11.”. Why do I account for this in such detail? Because I grew up in this youth movement in its third phase after the war. I wore “Jungenschaftsjacken”, stayed overnight in Kohten and accompanied international songs with my guitar. I hiked through Lapland in 1956. Within the “Boy Scouts”, I therefore belonged to the so-called “Jungenschaftsflügel”, which refused the paramilitary traditions of the Boy 8 9 10

Harnack, Lehre der Zwölf Apostel. The foundation as a formal association took place in 1901 in Berlin-Steglitz. Helwig, Koebel, Eberhard.

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Scouts. We were somewhat romantic-anarchistic, but no more than other young people. Was the thesis of itinerant charismatics plausible for me because I knew that one can come up with radical ideas when hiking without a fixed place? Perhaps it was also important that we were not short-distance hikers who returned to their location in the evening, but long-distance hikers pitching their tents at a new place every evening, even though this was forbidden in most places. We lived very economically during our hikes and tried to reduce our expenses to two D-marks a day, which was very difficult. Of course, it is true, people who often found shelter with strangers, especially when rain made camping outdoors difficult or impossible, find it easier to believe that the whole life is a wandering existence. Arnal’s assumption that there is a German imperialistic expansion urge in the “Wandervogel” movement is ingenious, but very one-sided. Another question is, whether such motives still had an impact on the thesis of wandering radicalism that I developed much later. There were undoubtedly nationalist elements in the youth movement after 1945, but it was precisely because of them that I had some conflicts. When we set out on our great journey through Finland, Sweden and Norway in 1956, the leader of the “trip” wanted to raise the national flag every morning in a ceremony in our camp. I protested against it in advance. Therefore, the boy scouts excluded me from the trip, but after long negotiations, they allowed me to participate, but I had to promise not to disturb the flag ceremony. This ceremony took place only once; the other boys also experienced it as ridiculous. However, let us remember that we must make a distinction between the context in which a thesis originates and the context of its validity. Let us keep in mind that the history of the development of the theory of itinerant radicalism does indeed lead into the context of the “Wandervogel”, but this context only explains the first part of the term, i.e. “hiking”. In this respect, W. E. Arnal saw something right. For the second part of the term, “radicalism”, however, a different context was much more important than my time as a boy scout. To consider this new context, we have to make a leap of about 15 years into the time of my habilitation. I completed my habilitation in the summer term 1972. The inaugural lecture, which was to take place in November 1972, was still missing. Then, by chance, I met a doctoral student of our common teacher, Philip Vielhauer, who was writing a dissertation on the Logienquelle. He shocked me with the information that he wanted to abandon his dissertation in order to become a pastor right away – he could not work at his desk for long. His situation was close to my heart. For at that time I had already decided for quite some time to become a school teacher as soon as possible after my habilitation. A comparable situation connected us, only that I wanted to leave the university after some success, he without any. I tried to persuade him to finish his work after all. While preparing my inaugural lecture, I had read a book on the "Origin of Christianity" by the Marxist Karl Kautsky, a representative of left-wing social democracy. There I

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found a somewhat provocative idea: If the apostles, during their wanderings, wished fire down from heaven on those places who rejected them, then they were nothing more than poor ‘schnorrers’ without family and home who wandered from place to place.11 Since my colleague was looking for the “Sitz im Leben” of the Sayings source in Q, I suggested that he should investigate the whole Sayings source to see if such itinerant people had transmitted and formed it. My suggestion came too late. He did not finish his dissertation. Nevertheless, I suggested that we publish my essay on “itinerant radicalism” together. However, he waved off, so that I could only thank him in two notes for our conversations and his suggestions. Why was the thesis of travelling radicalism so fascinating to me just at that time? I was married, had two children, but wanted to leave the “university career” that had just begun and go to school as a teacher after completing a second degree in German studies. That was not a departure into “homelessness”; it was only a small risk to live with a family for about two years without income. Many criticized my behaviour as irresponsible. However, my wife supported me. When I developed the thesis of wandering radicalism at the age of 29 I faced indeed a new beginning in my life. However, in my eyes, I was not looking for the risk, because a career within the university seemed to be much more risky than the path to become a schoolteacher. In a conflict situation at another university where I had worked before for a short while, a dean had threatened that he would inform all the theological faculties in Germany and thus end my career in theology. He later apologized to me for this immoral attempt at extortion. It was because of such experiences that I had decided to keep the door into the school as a teacher of religion and German open to myself. In addition, my liberal theology had increasingly distanced me from the faith of the church in the traditional sense. I wrote down my liberal theology towards the end of my habilitation period and published these thoughts about five years later in 1978 in a small book: “Argumente für einen kritischen Glauben, oder: Was hält der Religionskritik stand?”12 According to it, faith is grounded in resonance experiences and resists the absurdity of our existence. I interpreted the cross and resurrection existentially. The cross symbolizes the crisis of faith through absurdity, the resurrection the courage to live despite of absurdity. It is a courage which is grounded in a creatio ex nihilo. I had scruples about preparing people for the parish office with such a liberal theology. Would I unsettle them? However, in those times I personally preached with this theology in my heart, and the congregations often responded positively to my sermons. I was confident that I could interpret the Christian faith at school in an authentic way. Nevertheless, there was a rumour at that time that I had said goodbye to the Christian faith. Only few could understand that a young man after a 11 12

Kautsky, Ursprung, 404. Theißen, Argumente.

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successful habilitation at the age of 29 breaks off his university career. The thesis of itinerant charismatics undoubtedly encouraged me to start anew in the middle of life. However, I was not an itinerant charismatic. I did not start a life in homelessness by leaving my family. On the contrary, I was looking for a job and work to feed my family. Even that was a very radical decision for some. However, what “radicalism” meant at that time we can only understand if we look at the political context.

2.

The Political Context

When I brought the keyword “radicalism” into the debate in 1972, this was due to the student movement of 1968. We did not see ourselves as radicals at all. However, we saw the democratization of Germany as endangered. The discussion about the emergency laws in the 1960s triggered this. The famous philosopher Karl Jaspers, certainly not a representative of political radicalism, published his book “Wohin treibt die Bundesrepublik?” in 1966. He saw the Federal Republic on its way towards an authoritarian society. The Weimar Republic had already brought A. Hitler to power by way of an “Ermächtigungsgesetz” (Enabling Act of 1933). The intention of the protest movement was to prevent a repetition. Despite major protests against the emergency laws (e.g. in the Hofgarten of the University of Bonn, where I lived, but also at other places), they were passed on May 30, 1968. We linked our resistance against them with the international protest against the Vietnam War and against nuclear armament. In addition, there was a deep generational conflict in Germany. Many of our elders had been National Socialists. We suspected that they were behind the planned restrictions on freedom and democracy in a state of emergency. After the passing of the emergency laws, the protest movement disintegrated. A small group however, the Baader-Meinhof-Group, radicalized itself and wanted to force a way towards a fairer world through the use of terror. In response, the government passed a decree against radicalism (“Radikalenerlass”) on 28 January 1972, which prevented everyone in the Federal Republic of Germany from entering public service if there was a suspicion that he or she was politically radical. When I publicly presented my ideas on “itinerant radicalism” on 25.11.1972, it was a protest against the “Radikalenerlass”. The subtext of my lecture was: they would even brand Jesus and his disciples as radicals! When three years later in 1975/6 my appointment to the University of Kiel failed because of the (informal) objection of the North-Elbian Church, there was indeed a rumour that I was a victim of the decree against radicalism. That was not true. However, the fact that I represented an interpretation of the New Testament through the lens of social history had played a role. After my appointment to the

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University of Copenhagen in 1978, I had to correct some undeserved sympathies by clarifying that I was not a “martyr” of the decree against radicalism, even though I rejected this decree. Willy Brandt, who introduced it at the suggestion of the Ministers of the Interior, later considered it a mistake. It amounted to a great loss of liberality in our country. Therefore, if there is a subtext for “itinerant radicalism” in the history of its origin, we should find it here. The chronology also points to this. At the beginning of 1972, the government released the decree against radicalism, and in the course of the year I developed the term “itinerant radicalism” and presented it publicly in November of the same year. Our concern for our democracy was justified. It is true that our constitution was democratic; our constitution intended to prevent a dictatorship. Nevertheless, not everyone who had power in our country was really a democrat. Most of our professors had received their qualifications during the time of National Socialism. Only few had been opponents of the Nazis. I think most of them had convincingly turned away from National Socialism. However, one wasn’t sure about some of them. The student protests of 1968 rallied against them under the slogan: “Unter den Talaren Muff von 1000 Jahren” (“under the robes the musty smell of 1000 years”). The slogan assumed that the musty mentality of the 1000year Reich was hidden under the professors’ robes. Even some professors shared such fears. My teacher Philipp Vielhauer once told me about a nightmare. In a dream, he met the then CDU minister Gerhard Schröder (1910–1989), who explained to him that his party had won the absolute majority. Vielhauer saw the absolute majority of this party as a threat to democracy. Although I told him that I had no doubts about this party’s democratic attitude, he remained sceptical – even though he rejected the student rebellion. One can summarize the political situation at that time in this way: Democracy was the general framework. Nevertheless, we experienced democracy as endangered. That is why we believed that, if necessary, small groups must defend democratic norms against an undemocratically thinking majority. In such a context, of course, the thesis of itinerant radicalism fell on fertile ground: Sometimes only small deviant groups can assert the basic values against the resistance of the majority – even in conflict with the older generation. That was what went through one’s mind when reading the words of Jesus: “He who does not hate his father cannot be my disciple!” The thesis of the anti-family ethos of the original Christian wandering charismatics found resonance among young people who experienced a generational conflict.

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The Context of Social Studies

In the 1960s there was a change of values in Germany in which the Germans adopted the basic attitudes of the Western world. The student rebellion of 1968 made this change visible, for this rebellion was only part of an international wave. From San Francisco to Berlin, a protest movement changed Western societies. In this phase of social and cultural change, the social sciences and social philosophy became the leading sciences. With their help, we wanted to understand the historical processes in which we stood. With their help, however, we also wanted to shape these processes and bring about change. At that time, two major currents struggled within the social sciences: on the one hand positivism with an emphasis on empirical research, on the other hand neo-Marxist critical theory. Empirical research often took place within the theoretical framework of a functionalism that analyses everything in social life in terms of its contribution to the maintenance of social order. Through Talcott Parsons, this structural functionalism had become a dominant current in the social sciences. Because I sometimes argued in a functionalistic way in my works, Richard H. Horsley, for example, suspected a conservative ideology behind my theoretical reflections on the sociology of Early Christianity.13 In those days I was already convinced that one can advance exegesis and theology only by adopting a plurality of approaches. By combining different approaches, we can illuminate an object better than through just one theory. In my psychological work on Early Christianity, for example, I combined three approaches: behavioural psychology, depth psychology and hermeneutic approaches.14 Accordingly, I used three approaches in my sociological analyses: Functionalism, conflict theory and hermeneutic sociology. They correspond to the three classics of sociology: E. Durkheim, Karl Marx and M. Weber. I chose functionalism as a framework, but within this framework, I incorporated Marxist-inspired conflict theories and combined them with an interpretive approach that is fitting for a social history based on the interpretation of texts. However, how can we combine these three approaches? Sociology deals with structures, i.e. with facts that last for a long time. In order for structures to survive, they must fulfil a function in life, otherwise they would disappear again. It therefore makes sense to ask for every social phenomenon: What does it contribute to the preservation of a group or a society? We can ask this question also about groups with deviant behaviour patterns: Do the itinerant charismatics also contribute something to the preservation of society? 13

14

Horsley, Sociology. Horsley interprets the Jesus movement as a movement for the renewal of life in the Jewish villages – thus attributing to it a “function” for the preservation of this life. His interpretation is far more of a functionalist interpretation of the Jesus movement than my interpretation. Theißen, Psychologische Aspekte.

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Thus, the cynics lived values in ancient society that many admired: self-sufficiency and autonomy. Only marginal figures like the cynics were able to realize these consistently. In history, we must above all “understand” changes. This requires a hermeneutical sociology, because it takes seriously the meaning that man gives to his actions. Above all, from Max Weber's sociology I have taken the idea that “charisma” is an innovative force: individuals gain followers through an irrational charisma and create a movement that brings new patterns of life and thought to a breakthrough. When I called the new Jesus Movement “itinerant radicalism”, I had in mind this innovative power of charisma. However, we must understand the forces of change more deeply. From R. Dahrendorf, a liberal social theorist, I adopted the idea that “conflicts”, including class conflicts, are “means of social change without which no society can survive”. Their “function” does not consist in maintaining the existing order, but in its power to bring about change. By taking up conflict-theoretical considerations, I wanted to do justice to the significance of the class struggle, but I did not share the utopian vision of its resolution in a classless society. Because I never believed in it, I have never been a Marxist. My conviction was and is – and I quote from a publication of 1974: “If one formalizes the Marxist approach to a general conflict theory of society, it can be valuable for the analysis of primitive Christianity. New movements such as the Jesus movement often emerge in the field of social conflicts: the socio-political conflict between different power structures in Palestine, between empire, monarchy and theocracy, the socio-ecological conflict between city and country, the socio-economic conflict between producing and profiting strata, the socio-cultural conflict between different groups that claim to embody the ‘true Israel’”.15 In a lecture in Cambridge in 1988, I summarized this conflictoriented view of history in two theses: “First, history can be understood as a struggle for the distribution of opportunities in life. This distribution struggle does not only take place between individuals, but also between social groups and classes. They discuss the distribution of power, wealth, education and prestige. Second, every distribution struggle provokes a legitimation struggle in which claims are justified, defended or contested. ... In pre-industrial societies, this struggle for legitimacy takes place with the help of religious convictions and symbols.”16 This does not sound very conservative. At least I have never been a conservative in my self-understanding. In the sociological analysis of wandering charismatics, this led at one point to a controversy: In 1978 W. Stegemann and L. Schottroff, like me, interpreted itinerant radicalism as a variant of social uprooting, but wanted to explain it in

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Theißen, Theoretische Probleme. Theißen, Jesusbewegung.

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terms of economic needs alone.17 By contrast, I did not advocate pauperism as the general explanation of the Jesus movement. Some disciples will have left home and farm driven by economic hardship, but not all. What was crucial for me was rather the emergence of “anomie”, i.e. the dissolution of traditional life orientations. This can also arise when the economy is flourishing, when some are on the rise but others fear descent. In such a crisis, social uprooting can increase, and those who are not economically in need can adopt the behavioural pattern of “dropouts” from society.18 Moreover, Galilee was not a poor region in what was then Palestine. Josephus describes it as a flourishing landscape. Bone finds of people from that time do not indicate malnutrition. If in this period people could maintain a group of wandering charismatics, there must have been a surplus among the sedentary sympathizer groups, which they could give to the “vagabond beggars” of the followers of Jesus. If these “beggars” demonstratively propagated a critique of wealth, they could have found resonance with the poor as well as the rich. Criticism of wealth also existed in the upper classes, although it would be an exaggeration that we find such criticism only here.19 In my opinion, there is much to suggest that Galilee, the home country of the Jesus movement, flourished economically at that time, but experienced a crisis precisely because of that. We must differentiate between an interpretation of the Jesus-movement as a crisis-phenomenon and as a pauperistic movement. There are also rich societies that experience deep crises. During such times, people question traditional values just as much as in times of decline and decay. The proclamation of Jesus would fit well into such a time, too. Before Jesus, Judas Galilaios had viewed the decisive alternative to lie in the choice between God and the Emperor. Jesus sees the same profound alternative in the field of economics. For him the radical theocratic alternative is that between “God” and “Mammon”. This brings us to the most important context for theologians: What did the thesis of itinerant radicalism mean for theology, for our thoughts about God and the world?

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Schottroff/Stegemann, Jesus von Nazareth. In addition to economic hardship, persecution was also responsible for social uprooting. This certainly applies to the post-Easter period. The persecution of Stephanus turned some of his followers, such as Philip, into itinerant missionaries. But also for the lifetime of Jesus, we have to reckon with conflicts which occasionally drove disciples to a wandering existence. Conflicts are not necessarily economic. Cf. the thesis of Th. E. Schmidt, Hostility to Wealth.

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The Theological Context

In the turn between the 60s and 70s, two variants of dialectical theology determined the discussion in Germany: on the one hand K. Barth's revelation theology, on the other hand R. Bultmann's existential theology. The change of mentality after 1968 transformed both currents in different ways: The existential theological paradigm lost its attraction. The Vietnam War, the Spring of Prague and the democratic deficits of the Western states made social criticism the dominant concern; the question of social justice became more important than that of individual justification; the hope for a better world motivated more than the existential appeal for true life. The break of 1968 therefore hit existential theology much more than revelation theology. Those who relied on the “revelation of God in his word” kept more distance to society from the outset than those who represented a hermeneutical theology, which with its program of demythologization wanted to adapt to modern mentality, and whose existentialism had a strong individualistic tendency. Above all Bultmann's followers therefore reacted rather harshly to the social criticism of the younger generation, and sometimes rejected my social-historical works with strong theological pathos. Barth's followers, on the other hand, were much more sociocritical because of their distance from society. They did not think in individualistic terms, but saw in the congregations symbolic models for limited change within the whole of society. Many of them supported liberation theology, feminist theology as well as the Judeo-Christian revision of theology. They were far more tolerant towards social history than existential theologians were. I will just give one example of the Bultmann School to illustrate this situation. In 1990, the systematic theologian U. H. J. Körtner, whom I appreciate very much, published a treatise entitled “Theologie in dürftiger Zeit”.20 In it, he illustrated the poverty of theology by the example of my own work. For I had presented in 1977 sociological, in 1983 psychological and in 1984 evolutionary interpretative approaches for the exegesis of the Bible, one shortly after another. Körtner understood this as a symptom of a theological deficit, because here theology wanted to renew itself by borrowing from other sciences instead of trusting its own agenda. Körtner also deviated from his great model of hermeneutic theology, R. Bultmann. Bultmann had developed a hermeneutics of understanding. Körtner, on the other hand, designed a hermeneutics of incomprehension or “nonunderstanding” in 1994.21 Understanding only happens when the “inspired reader” overcomes the wall of incomprehension between the Bible and us. The 20 21

Körtner, Theologie in dürftiger Zeit, 49f. Körtner, Der inspirierte Leser.

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Biblical text became strange and incomprehensible to us. His hermeneutics shows a great sensitivity for the distance of the biblical texts from our world. Overcoming this distance can therefore only be a miracle. One needs the Holy Spirit to inspire the reader. However, perhaps this feeling of alienation between the Bible and the modern reader also arose at least partly from the fact that the Bultmann School refused to read the texts in the light of new approaches that more corresponded to the changed social situation of our time. For these new exegetical approaches, the representatives of a theology of revelation were more open than those who represented an existential theology. My teacher in systematic theology, Walter Kreck, a follower of K. Barth, was enthusiastic about my inaugural lecture on itinerant radicalism. He liked the opposition to society that we find here in Early Christianity. After 1968, many variants of a socially critical hermeneutics of the Bible emerged; and the representatives of the theology of revelation accepted them far more readily than the Bultmann School. We can trace back these new approaches to the polarity of three groups which according to Paul are united in Christianity: Jews and Greeks, slaves and free, men and women (Gal. 3:28). First, a new exegesis in the framework of the Jewish-Christian dialogue emerged, second, an exegesis of liberation theology, and third, a feminist exegesis. The movements they represented were “renewal movements” with a socio-critical intention. In these movements, people discovered and interpreted the Bible critically as an “ally” against anti-Judaism, capitalism and patriarchalism. They represented a sociokerygmatic type of exegesis looking for a social message in the New Testament. In these exegetical currents, one relied not only on the Holy Spirit, but also on the spirit of modern Enlightenment. The existential theologians are in my eyes just as committed exegetes as the social kerygmatic exegetes are. Committed exegesis is legitimate. Theology wants to be effective for life. However, scholarship must be open to everything, even for what is not at all constructive and effective and valuable in our life. It also has the task of exploring the bulky, which one cannot exploit in life. Therefore, we should separate interpretation and application, even if we know that interests concerning application always influence our interpretation. However, scholarly exegesis must not be a religious or political sermon. Application is much more than interpretation. In church sermons and ethical reflections, we must not at all hide our commitment. Nevertheless, my restraint from moral appeals in scholarly interpretations always seemed a little too academic to many. They were right in observing this. My teacher, Philipp Vielhauer, was a follower of R. Bultmann, but in socioethical questions rather a supporter of K. Barth. He adored Franz Overbeck, the sharp critic of Christianity, in which he saw a predecessor of dialectical theology. He was very sceptical of committed exegeses. He illustrated his scepticism by reminding us of National Socialist students who protested against the "bonesoftening objectivity" of their teachers. At the same time, Ph. Vielhauer was

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open to questions of social history. He wrote his dissertation under M. Dibelius.22 Dibelius and his students E. Lohmeyer, H. Greeven and H. W. Bartsch were much more interested in socio-historical issues than R. Bultmann. Dibelius was of the opinion that, although the gospel is not of this world, it is precisely for that reason that it has critical effects within this world. He began in his youth as an oppositional liberal Christian, but then opened more and more to the new impulses of dialectical theology. Philosophically, he oriented himself to the philosophy of life of F. Nietzsche. For the letter of James, he accepted his interpretation of Early Christianity as a “slave uprising in morality”, but against Nietzsche he evaluated this uprising positively. He saw the strength of Early Christianity in the fact that it was at the same time a religion for “free spirits” like Paul and John and for common people as in the Epistle of James. In this way, Early Christianity created a synthesis of opposing mentalities. Politically, M. Dibelius was active in the liberal DDP (Deutsche Demokratische Partei). He belonged to the minority of professors who had been active in supporting democracy during the Weimar Republic. Influenced by his tolerant attitude, Ph. Vielhauer supported both Klaus Wengst and me in our efforts to elucidate Early Christianity with sociological categories. My work and attitudes did not fit the two theological mainstreams. In social ethics, I advocated social criticism. Theologically, a strong awareness of autonomy in theology supports such a criticism. This autonomy can be justified in terms of a theology of revelation, but also by a theology of experience: D. F. Schleiermacher had tried to establish the autonomy of theology based on intuition and feeling of the universe, in his later writings based on the consciousness of an absolute dependence. Religion is in fact an attempt to establish an existential relationship between our whole life and the whole of reality, although we will never cognitively grasp the whole reality in a comprehensive theory. Therefore, I always tried to combine various positions in theology. I distinguish three ways of theological thinking: First, theology can justify the speech of God by God himself through revelation or metaphysics. Secondly, theology can conceptualise God based on experiences of this world. Thirdly, theology can try to find God in the depths of subjectivity: as a transcendental presupposition of our thinking, feeling and acting or through a mystical relationship to him. I think all three ways are legitimate. By adopting a pluralism of approaches we advance further in theology than by limiting ourselves to onesided approaches. Nevertheless, how does the thesis of itinerant radicalism fit into this theological landscape? I must add to my sketch of the theological development of that time that the polarity of the two major schools, the theology of revelation of Barth and the Existential Theology of Bultmann, was gradually replaced by a new “cultural theology”. This theology emerged anticyclically to the 22

Bringeland, Religion und Welt; Theißen, Das lebensphilosophische Programm.

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development of our culture: The more Christianity lost its cultural influence, the more intensively the new cultural theology asserted that Christianity was even now present in our culture. However, the fact was that living Christianity became more and more of a niche phenomenon – the conviction of a minority, but embedded in a common Christian culture of the past. In this situation, the thesis of itinerant radicalism was a reminder that Christianity was also initially a minority phenomenon, a movement of outsiders. My theological generation was aware that we are on the way to become a minority and perhaps outsiders, but that we represented the heritage of a whole culture. We were as outsiders a minority in secular society, but representatives of a majority of the former society. The question was, has Christian faith today the power to expand again in new areas? The itinerant charismatics were representatives of a great tradition and convinced that they were on the way towards a new humankind. Therefore, we may say, the thesis of itinerant radicalism in Early Christianity corresponded in a certain way to our situation in our time. Was that the reason why my thesis was so attractive? Perhaps. Let me finish with this “perhaps”. If you are in the centre of the stream, you do not have the view on the stream as a whole.

Bibliography Arnal, W. E., Jesus and the Village Scribes, Galilean Conflicts and the Setting of Q, Minneapolis 2001. Balla, P., The Child-Parent Relationship in the New Testament and its Environment (WUNT 155), Tübingen 2003. Bringeland, H., Religion und Welt. Martin Dibelius (1883–1947). Bd. 1: Dibelius in seiner Frühzeit (bis 1915); Bd. 2: Dibelius in seiner Heidelberger Zeit (bis 1933);, Bd. 3: Dibelius im Dritten Reich und in der Nachkriegszeit (BVB 20–22), Münster 2013. Crossan, D., The Historical Jesus. The Life of a Mediterranean Jewish Peasant, Edinburgh 1991. Harnack, A.v., Die Lehre der Zwölf Apostel, Leipzig 1884. Helwig, W., Art. Koebel, Eberhard, in: Neue Deutsche Biographie (NDB) 12, Berlin 1979, 288–289. Horsley, R. A., Sociology and the Jesus Movement, New York 1989. Kautsky, K., Der Ursprung des Christentums. Eine historische Untersuchung, Stuttgart (1908) 111921. Kloppenborg Verbin, J. S., Excavating Q. The History and Setting of the Sayings Gospel, Edinburgh 2000. Körtner, U. H. J., Theologie in dürftiger Zeit (KT 75), München 1990. Körtner, U. H. J., Der inspirierte Leser. Zentrale Aspekte biblischer Hermeneutik, Göttingen 1994. Kretschmar, G., Ein Beitrag zur Frage nach dem Ursprung urchristlicher Askese, in: ZThK 61 (1964), 27–67. Schmidt, Th. E., Hostility to Wealth in the Synoptic Gospels (JSNT.S 15), Sheffield 1987. Schottroff, L., Stegemann, W., Jesus von Nazareth – Hoffnung der Armen, Stuttgart 1978. Stegemann, W., Wanderradikalismus im Urchristentum? Historische und theologische Auseinandersetzung mit einer interessanten These, in: W. Schottroff/W. Stegemann, Der Gott der kleinen Leute, Bd.2, München/Gelnhausen 1979, 94–120. Theißen, G., Wanderradikalismus. Literatursoziologische Aspekte der Überlieferung von Worten Jesu im Urchristentum, in: ZThK 70 (1973) 245–271.

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Theißen, G., Theoretische Probleme religionssoziologischer Forschung und die Analyse des Urchristentums, in: NZSTh 16 (1974), 35–56 = G. Theißen, Studien zur Soziologie des Urchristentums (WUNT 19), Tübingen 1979, 55–76. Theißen, G., Argumente für einen kritischen Glauben oder: Was hält der Religionskritik stan (TEH 202), München: Kaiser 1978, 31988. 2

Theißen, G., Psychologische Aspekte paulinischer Theologie (FRLANT 131), Göttingen 1983, 1993. Theißen, G., Der Schatten des Galiläers, München 1986, Gütersloh 242012. Theißen, G., Jesusbewegung als charismatische Wertrevolution, in: NTS 35 (1989), 343–360. Theißen, G., Glaubenssätze. Ein kritischer Katechismus, Gütersloh 2012, 42018. Theißen, G., Der Anwalt des Paulus, Gütersloh 2017, 22018. Theißen, G., Das lebensphilosophische Programm: Martin Dibelius und die Suche nach dem Übergeschichtlichen, in: Texttranszendenz. Beiträge zu einer polyphonen Bibelhermeneutik (BVB 36), Münster 2019. Venetz, H. J., So fing es mit der Kirche an. Ein Blick in das Neue Testament, Zürich 1981, 51992.

 

Itinerant Charismatics and Travelling Artisans – Was Jesus’ Travelling Lifestyle Induced by His Artisan Background? Marco Frenschkowski

The concept of the remembered Jesus, valuable as it has been for a more modest and less hypothetic approach in Jesus research, must not conceal the basic insight that whatever Jesus was he must have become at some time, and in a particular cultural context. There was a historical Jesus, even though we do not have any access to him other than the remembered Jesus of the early Jesus movement. Questions regarding the historical Jesus are the backbone of Jesus research, and this must not be hidden by the truism that we can only know Jesus from what his disciples have chosen to tell us. We can make discoveries, however, by looking for new frames of reference, new angles of questioning. Indeed the “remembered Jesus” approach in some cases may have traces of a self-immunization against too critical ideas, keeping up a kind of standard model of who Jesus was, and being canonized in Jesus books of a rather similar appearance. The many elements in the Jesus tradition that were embarrassing to early Christians, such as his being baptized for his sins, invite some trust that we do have in our sources quite a bit more than a purely hagiographical image, though often we do not know what we would very much like to know. Such an approach disagrees with the older and particularly German theological idea that we do not just know little about Jesus, but (for some theological reason not easily understandable) should and must not know much more, as was basically Bultmann’s attitude. We are human beings, and we cannot refrain from wishing to know much more, and we will not stop asking and shifting the evidence in the ever-changing reference frame of new questions and methodologies, while still respecting the remembered Jesus of the gospels as our only access to Jesus as a human being. The following remarks will start with a small observation that cannot be elaborated further in this paper, however, and will just help to illustrate the chosen approach, and then proceed with a hypothesis on the emergence of the travelling lifestyle of Jesus. Jesus, whatever he has been, was a Jewish healer and exorcist. But he must have become what he was: there must have been a period of questioning himself, of discovering something about himself, perhaps some kind of vocation. This kind of question is mainly asked about his prophetic and messianic aspects and their public appearance. What about his being a healer?

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Now we may reasonably say: we do not know how he became a healer, and we cannot possibly know. This can easily be agreed upon. But such an objection must not make us overlook some basic observations. Jesus did not become a healer in Nazareth. The tradition that people and even his family from his very small home town were highly irritated and critical when he came back as a healer and prophet is clear on this point (Mk 6:1–6, cf. 3:20s.). Bultmann saw this as an “ideale Szene” invented from the proverbial saying “A prophet is not without honor except in his own town, among his relatives and in his own home”1 (cf. also G. Th. 31), but that Jesus could not heal in Nazareth was extremely embarrassing already to Mark, leading to a contradictory statement in the next words (cf. Mt 13:58; Lk even omits the statement). For this reason alone the tradition probably is not invented as an illustration for a proverb2: A sheer invention would lead to a quite different text without the embarrassing contradiction. Whatever this uninventable tradition means, it does certainly at least allow for the conclusion that he did not become a healer in Nazareth but somewhere else. Now how do people become healers? There exists only a limited number of possibilities, which we know quite well.3 The most common way is a family tradition (we will see immediately that this was not the case with Jesus). We know for example that the female descendants of Elchasai, a most interesting figure, were deeply revered as healers still in the third and fourth century. Epiphanius, who gives detailed information about two sisters from this family, one Marthous and one Marthana, one of whom had recently died though the other was still living at the time of his writing, tells that they were so much revered by large crowds as coming from a holy family that even the spittle and filth from their body was carried about by their adherents as having healing power, and was used to ward off diseases (pan. 19, 2, 2. 4 and 53, 1, 2).4 These body parts were utilized for protective charms and amulets, when the ladies in 1

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“Hier scheint mir ein Musterbeispiel vorzuliegen, wie aus einem freien Logion eine ideale Szene komponiert ist”, Bultmann, Die Geschichte der synoptischen Tradition, 30. This interpretation has to completely downgrade the embarrassing οὐκ ἐδύνατο of Mark 6:5 (31 n. 1). Cf. also Jer 11:21–23. Cf. Hengel/Schwemer, Jesus und das Judentum, 287. Collins, Mark 287–292 stresses the redactional relation between faith and miracle, making Mk 6:5 exclusively a statement on the Jews of Nazareth, not on Jesus. Cf. also Dormeyer, Hinführung, 199. But this is not what the text says, where clearly an older tradition is adjusted by Mark. The proverbial saying quoted by Jesus is not the origin of a tradition invented to criticize the Jews of Nazareth, but it seems to me more probably to be an apology for an unwelcome fact that Mark could not keep secret. There are other cases where the success of Jesus’ healing praxis was not an immediate one (Mk 8:22–26; cf. Q 11:24–26, where the necessity of repeated exorcisms is explained by Jesus, which also explains Lk 8:2). As I hope to discuss this at some length at another time, only limited documentation is given in these preliminary remarks. Cf. Luttikhuizen, The Revelation of Elchasai, 17. 116. 138s. 210.

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question were still living. As is well-known, something similar happened to Paul and Peter (Acts 5:15; 19:12), and the Talmud of course says that Abraham had a magical stone which healed people who just looked at it (bBB 16b). But it is not the materiality of the healing that interest us here, but the family connection, which in Christianity is not as common, being superseded by a charismatic model of receiving a special healing charism from God. The less well known passages on the Elchesaite women healers tell us much about the veneration given to families said to have healing power, as coming “from a blessed seed” (pan. 19, 2, 2)5. Medicine and working as a professional physician in Greek and Roman antiquity was also often a family matter (Hippocrates came from such a family guild of at least 16 generations of physicians, being a scion of the Knidian part of the famous Ἀσκληπιάδαι clan)6, and charismatic and professional healing in this regard sometimes concur. Traditions about families or clans connected with healing, miracle-working or divinatory powers are also well-known in antiquity, such as the Psylloi in Libya, the Marsi, the Hirpi Sorani, certain families in Etruria and Thessaly, a.o.7 In the case of the so-called Galilean charismatics and faith healers of the Ḥanina ben Dosa-Type we also have family connections about healers. Ḥoni ha-Me'agel (the circledrawer) and Ḥanina ben Dosa as well as his grandson Ḥanan ha-Nehba may have lived in families where healing was a family feature.8 The evidence is not very clear, and it is also unclear how old these traditions are. Recently published Aramaic magical bowls interestingly prove that these healer and wonder working figures were much used also as references in magic rituals (bowl spells, curses and so on)9, as of course Jesus was (Mk 8:38–40; Lk 9:49s.), who is a number of times evoked even in pagan magical texts10. Acts 19:13–17 tells a fanciful story about a guild of exorcists, called the seven sons of the high priest Scaeva (which strangely is a Latin name, the “left-handed one”). This clearly is a family guild claiming to have some healing power. Examples can easily be multiplied. But this will not apply to the family of Jesus, though we hear much about the δεσπόσυνοι, family members of Jesus travelling around and preaching. Paul 5

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Tal Ilan has collected other evidence on female healers in ancient Judaism; one such Jewish woman is even mentioned in a generally overlooked passage in Galen: Silencing the Queen, 25–27. 242–258 (the whole discussion is a very important contribution also to the healing and gender aspect of the Jesus movement). Cf. Pherecydes in Soranus v. Hippocr. 449 West, and more generally e.g. Platon resp. 10, 599C; Ael. Arist. or. 38 Ασκληπιάδαι. The personal physician of Claudius still came from this family, Tacit. ann. 12, 61. It seems that in Rome such families were made tax-exempt by Augustus: Cass. Dio 53, 30; Codex Theodosianus 13, 3, 4.10; the evidence is not quite clear. The family connection between different physicians was even a subject of much genealogical research. Cf. with references Frenschkowski, Magie im antiken Christentum, 49–54. Cf. Frenschkowski, Magie im antiken Christentum, 193. Cf. Shaked/Ford/Bhayro, 53–222. Frenschkowski, Magie im antiken Christentum, 209s.

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mentions this in 1 Corinthians, and still in the 3rd century Julius Africanus says the δεσπόσυνοι are at his time travelling from Kokhaba and Nazareth, their home towns, and speaking to people about their genealogical relation to Jesus (Eusebius, h.e. 1, 7, 14), a connection that probably was their source also of income. But we never hear about them as healer figures in Christian sources. Of course it is well known that we do have Rabbinic evidence about people possibly healing in the name of Jesus, though it is highly debated whether this really relates to the Jesus of the gospels (as I think it does), and whether this evidence goes back to tannaitic or to amoraic times (tḤull 2: 22f.; yAZ 2,2, 40d-41a; yShab 14,4, 14d-15a; QohR 1,1.8; bAZ 27b a.o.). This cannot be discussed at this occasion. But we never hear about particular healing powers of other members of the family of Jesus in the time of the New Testament, even though James the brother of Jesus was admired and almost worshipped in ways only slightly inferior to the veneration granted to Jesus (heaven and earth have been created for his sake: G. Th. 12, a hyperbole not uncommon in Jewish literature). But he was no healer, as far as we know.11 So we might guess that Jesus did not become a healer from his family background, and he was clearly not known as such in Nazareth. So how did it happen? To exclude an obvious possibility is often as important as finding a plausible one. The strangest thing about Jesus being a healer in the context of ancient Judaism is of course that he did not pray. John 11:41s is indeed the very first passage that makes Jesus deliver a short prayer in the context of a healing story, but in all older stories this is missing. A number of times Jesus speaks about effective prayer, but the synoptic narratives never speak about this in the direct context of healing miracles and exorcisms, where he is commanding, not praying. Annette Merz in a recent study has nevertheless tried to stress the importance of prayer for Jesus as a healer: Jesus might have preferred private prayer.12 But it is most striking that our sources on healing miracles do not say this, but rather imagine Jesus as a healer as a kind of military commander. Even a gospel like Luke that likes to figure Jesus as a model of piety and underlines his own praying never makes Jesus pray in the direct context of healing, but rather has him act on his own and very special authority over demons and disease. At other occasions of course Jesus prayed and spoke about the charismatic power of prayer. So how does this fit together? What exactly does it mean? We do not really know. Might it be allowed to draw any kind of conclusion about the “psychological side” of Jesus’ healing power? Once again we do not know.13 The 11

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Cf. also the collected evidence on James e.g. in Painter, Just James. The Brother of Jesus in History and Tradition. Merz, Der historische Jesus als Wundertäter im Spektrum antiker Wundertäter, 119. Next to other OT connections, there is also the Davidic and Solomonic line that must be considered: “Son of David” does not just mean messiah but can be interpreted as a new kind of Solomon, who of course is connected to exorcism and perhaps healing (Josephus ant. 8, 46–49; Test. Sol. etc.), and David himself can also be seen as an exorcist (1 Sam 16;

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famous story about Vespasian as a miracle healer against his own conviction (Tacitus ann. 4, 81, 1–3) demonstrates the impact of public expectations on miracle dynamics. Even if we do not exactly know how Jesus became a healer, it is vital to ask the question, and some progress from a comparative approach might still be possible, once healer biographies are seriously studied by NT scholars. Now, as pointed out in the first words of this study, we will proceed with another aspect of Jesus’ public ministry, where it is also self-evident that whatever Jesus exactly was he must have become at some point in his life. As already hinted at, this subject will be his itinerant, travelling lifestyle. The charismatic aspect of this, as defined by Gerd Theißen, has dominated research for many decades, and clearly Theißen’s sociological model is one of the most important contributions to our quest for the Jesus movement in the last generation. But how did Jesus become a traveller? (I realize this has a number of other and stranger meanings in English, and it is not unintentional that an ambivalent term is used here). Jesus, whatever he did, has been travelling around, inducing others to share this lifestyle, and defining a way of living quite influential till about the early third century. The Sayings Source does not mention this too often (Q 9:57–60 and 14:27 and some parts of Q 10 may be pertinent passages), but it is generally taken for granted, and Mark gives a quite clear image that is an aspect of the remembered Jesus of all narrative gospels. Theißen also has stressed (another aspect we have to consider) that the Wisdom of Jesus being a carpenter is something unexpected for his contemporaries: “Seine Zeitgenossen spüren, dass bei ihm die Weisheit Statusgrenzen überwindet”14. According to Sirach 38:24–34 and other Jewish sources a manual laborer simply cannot attain wisdom, and his low social status is underlined: nobody would ask him for advise (cf. also Sir 29:24 on the disadvantages of a travelling lifestyle). This is applied explicitly to the carpenter: οὕτως πᾶς τέκτων καὶ ἀρχιτέκτων, ὅστις νύκτωρ ὡς ἡμέρας διάγει (38:27; the next verse mentions the smith in the same vein). Though this may not have been everyone’s conviction (indeed Rabbinic literature has a few different statements), it will have been the attitude of the people of Nazareth. The passage also illustrates pretty well the hard life even of the ἀρχιτέκτων (who may have been the master builder or even a kind of architect). We certainly must avoid romantic and idyllic ideas about being a carpenter. But what do we have to imagine? Jesus was a τέκτων (Mk 6:3) or at least a υἱὸς τέκτωνος (as Mt 13:55 and some variant versions of Mark have it). Luke and John do not have this information, as they may have found it embarrassing (particularly John is clearly an upper-class writer, mentioning Joseph in 1:45, 6:42). As

14

Josephus ant. 6, 166–169; 11QPsᵃ 27,2–4. 10; 11QPsApᵃ 1,2–6; 4,4 etc.). But see below on other aspects of the Davidic connection of Jesus. Theißen, Jesus als historische Gestalt, 244.

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we have learned in our received wisdom, this is somebody working with stone and wood, not exactly just a carpenter, but someone who builds larger objects as houses, especially doors, yokes for oxen, ships, and perhaps also barns and roads. However, this is by far not quite so clear, as we shall see. The word has rather general meanings15 and can be applied to different crafts, and it can even take on a more general meaning: “master, in any art”, even “originator” (the κακῶν πάντων τέκτονες σοφώτατοι Euripides Med. 409 are “most experienced authors of evil”16). The meaning of carpenter, woodworker is by far the most common, however. As Palestine was much richer in forests in the first century than today, working with wood might have been more important than is often realized when the word is translated as ‘stone-cutter’, under the false assumption that wood as a building material would not have been available.17 The word as such can indeed refer to both professions, and is a rather general term, though the Greek fathers almost exclusively understood it as one working with wood. Ambrose, comm. in Luc. 3, 2 (MPL 15, 1671), of course being a Latin writer, gives a rather detailed description of the woodwork of Joseph as a carpenter. In the later Latin church Joseph was sometimes also imagined as a blacksmith, not as a carpenter.18 The Vulgate translation faber may have been misunderstood by some Latin writers who thought Jesus to have been a blacksmith (cf. Italian fabbro “smith”). Faber as such in Latin can be specified by many epithets, such as ferrarius, ferrius, aerarius, argentarius, lignarius, automatarius, balneator, dolabrarius, frenarius, lapidarius, eborarius and tignarius, 15 16 17 18

Cf. for an overview Montanari, The Brill Dictionary of Ancient Greek, 2093. The translation is that of Montanari, l.c. 2094. This has already been noted by Eisler, Iesus basileus ou basileusas 2, 178 n. For the history of this later idea cf. Möhren, Jésus le forgeron (who quotes all older relevant texts); Helms, Joseph the Smith. Already Isidor of Sevilla sees a faber as someone working essentially with iron: “Faber a faciendo ferro inpositum nomen habet” (etym. 19, 6, 1), and suggests this as Joseph’s profession (reg. monach. 5 ed. Campos Ruiz 98), as does his older brother Leandrus (faber ferrarius: regula 23 ed. Campos/Roca 64). The tradition is clearly visible already in the fourth century: Joseph (and so also Jesus) had been a blacksmith e.g. according to Hilarius of Poitiers, comm. in Matth. 14, 2, 6 (ed. Doignon), Petrus Chrysologus, serm. XLVIII De Christo fabri filio apellato, et de invidia (MPL 52, 334C), and later e.g. to Beda Venerabilis, Hrabanus Maurus and Benedictus Anianensis. A mason he was e.g. according to Augustin, serm. in nativ. 5, 17. I do not know how widespread the idea that Joseph had been a blacksmith by profession was in the West. Thomas of Aquino still knows it, though contradicts it: “Ipse enim putabatur filius Joseph, qui non erat faber farrarius sed lignarius” (comm. in Mt 13 lectio 4, arguing from John Chysostom); cf. full references in Möhring, op. cit. 460. The Anglo-Saxon tradition and even Wycliffe also understood Joseph to have been a blacksmith: “Wher this not a smyth or carpenter” Wycliffe translates Mc 6:3 (Möhren, op. cit. 461; cf. also Campbell, What Was Jesus’ Occupation?, 519). Still the Old Spanish translation could say “¿No es est fiio del ferrero e de Maria?” (Mc 6:3; full discussion and references in Möhren, op. cit. 466). Sermons on this text are often combined with cosmological symbolism, making Joseph a typos of God as the creator.

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and so cover a wide range of meanings.19 Thubalcain e.g. in the Vulgate Gen 4:21 is a “faber in cuncta opera aeris et ferri” (ed. R. Weber). But, on the other hand, most Greek fathers, and without exception all older translations: Syriac, Coptic, Armenian, Ethiopic, and even Gothic take Jesus to have been a laborer working with wood, not with stone.20 The philosopher Epictetus (whose language is very near to the NT koine) speaks about the τέκτων using his axe (he is always imagined as working with wood) in a professional way: if he does it clumsily he is not a bad τέκτων, but he would be no τέκτων at all (diss. 4, 8, 7, 4). In Plutarch, on the other hand, we have ἀρχι-τέκτονες who explicitly work with both wood and metal (sept. sapient. conviv. 13, 156BC). A majority of Greek passages makes a τέκτων work with wood21, and Philo even contrasts the work of the τέκτων and that of the coppersmith (χαλκεύς, leg. 57)22. Josephus uses τέκτων in the Antiquities always as a worker in wood (seven times), but in the Jewish War also earth and stones can be involved (four times). He does not say much on the social world of these workers, something he as an upper-class priest simply was not interested in. Celsus in the late 2nd century ridicules Jesus for having been a carpenter, but Origen contradicts him, saying that Jesus is never directly called a carpenter, only Joseph (c. Cels. 6, 36). This ties in with other passages, proving Origen did not really know the gospel of Mark well; in another passage he does not even know whether it contains the Lord’s Prayer and has to look that up for his argument (de orat. 18, 3). Others like Augustine, de consens. evangel. 2, 42, 193, have no misgivings about the more plausible idea that Jesus up to his late twenties worked in Joseph’s profession. Still the 4th-century pagan rhetorician Libanius and emperor Julian ridiculed Jesus for being just a son of a carpenter (Theodoret. h.e. 3, 18; Sozomen. h.e. 6, 2, 9), though in earlier Greek literature τέκτονες had had a higher social status.23 The Christian Justin also is embarrassed by the statement of Jesus having been a carpenter, not just a carpenter’s son (which demonstrates he knows the Markan tradition, not just the Matthean one). He is supposed to have fabricated ἄροτρα καὶ ζυγά, ploughs

19 20

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22

23

Cf. Möhren, Jésus le forgeron, 452. Cf. Batey, ʿIs not this the Carpenter?ʾ. A faber generally speaking is “jeder Handwerker, der in hartem Material arbeitet“ (Kornemann, Fabri, 1888), to be distinguished from a factor or figulus. Campbell tries to downgrade this a bit, preferring a more general meaning, but the evidence he collects is clear. According to LSJ 1769 τέκτων is frequently opposed to a smith (χαλκεύς), citing Plato Protagoras 319D, resp. 370D; Xenophon hist. Graeca 3, 4, 17; also to a mason (λιθολόγος), citing Thucydides 6, 44, cf. Aristophanes aves 1154. Someone who has the manual expertise of a manual artisan is a τεκτονόχειρ, a word used metaphorically by the Orphics and Neoplatonists (Orphic. Frg. ed. Kern n. 179, with references). Cf. Speyer, Holz, 91.

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and yokes, agricultural implements (Justin dial. cum Tryphone 88)24, “by which He taught the symbols of righteousness and an active life”, as Justin says not very convincingly, though he does emphasize that Jesus really did work in the profession he describes (which we might perhaps call a cartwright). He shares the embarrassment of the educational elite (even after having turned to Christianity) that Jesus was not a member of their milieu (cf. already Platon resp. 9, 590C). Joseph is called a carpenter also e.g. in Asc. Is. 11, 2s.; Greek Acta Thomae 2. 143 (AAA II/2 ed. Lipsius 102. 250); Acta Pilati A 1 (Tischendorf, Evangelia apocrypha 2. ed. 215; de Santos Otero 405); also Simon Magus in Acta Petri cum Simone 14. 23 (AAA ed. Lipsius I, 61. 71) calls Jesus as fabri filius, and so on. The Liber de ortu beatae Mariae 10, 1, 1 speaks of a faber ligni (Pseudo-Matthaei evangel. text. A, CC.SA 9 ed. J. Gijsel 1997). The tradition is also known to early enemies of Christianity, as we have already seen (cf. e.g. Origen c. Cels. 1, 28.39). The gnostics rarely speak about Joseph, and so have few discussions of the question. The Gospel of Philip (NHC II/3) Log. 91 has a long passage where the carpentry of Joseph (clearly no masonry or metalwork is intended) is interpreted allegorically. Joseph is called a ϩⲁⲙϣⲉ, a carpenter in the strict sense, a worker in wood (ϩⲁⲙ is “artisan”, ϣⲉ “wood”), a word regularly used also as a Coptic translation of τέκτων. Christian art also depicts Joseph with a carpenter’s implements from the 5th century on.25 No further discussion needs to be given to the idea of Geza Vermes (expressed only en passant), that τέκτων when translating naggār/naggārā might mean “scholar”26, as the Semitic term certainly does (used metaphorically) in a few Rabbinic passages. This of course would make the argument of Mk 6:1–6 completely pointless. Other crafts can be used as metaphors for the exertions of scholarship as well, by the way27, but this certainly is not in view in Mk 6. A carpenter is a naggār, or naggārā in Aramaic (Syriac nuggōrō), a word not yet used in the Hebrew Bible, but often in Rabbinic literature. This is also the term the Syrus Curetonianus, the Peshitta and the Harclensis have in Mt 13, whereas the Syrus Sinaiticus avoids the word, though translating “son of Joseph”. In Mark also naggārā is used, though the passage is extant only in the Peshitta and the Harclensis (quoting from the parallel edition of the texts by George Anton Kiraz, 2003). In the Gothic Bible he is a timrja (Mk 6:3 ed. Streitberg 7th ed. 2000, 183)28, someone working with timber. (In the Qurʼān Joseph the 24

25 26 27 28

Ploughs (ἄροτρα) are also fabricated by τέκτονες in Maximus Tyr. or. 15, 3c. In Jewish tradition Cain, connected to a number of travelling tribes, is seen as the inventor of the plough: Aptowitzer, Kain und Abel, 153. Nagel, Joseph II (Zimmermann), 754. 760, with references. Vermes, Jesus the Jew, 21s. Levy, Wörterbuch 3, 338. Against Vermes see e.g. Davies/Allison, Matthew 2, 456 n. 1. The Matthean text is not extant in the Gothic version. The Gothic Bible uses the word in plural also for οἰκοδομοῦντες (Lk 20:17; Mk 12:10).

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carpenter strangely is never mentioned, as is well known, though Mary/Maryam is referred to about seventy times). For our argument it will not be necessary to discuss all vicissitudes of the question what exactly a τέκτων might have done in first century Galilee: probably he did what was needed in house and ship building and perhaps other fields. We should mention, however, that in Aramaic a bar naggārā (υἱὸς τέκτωνος, as in Matthew; the Vulgate says fabri filius) is not the son of a carpenter, but is a technical term for an apprentice (as in a clear passage in bBB 73b). This does not necessarily mean that the author of Matthew had this in mind. On the other hand, Joseph is very much not the father of Jesus for Matthew, so perhaps this exactly is what he means, though this does not seem probable to the present writer. That a carpenter (naggār, naggārā) usually is the son of a carpenter is implied by some Rabbinic passages, where the word is used metaphorically, however (bAZ 50b; jRhaSh 1, 57b; jJeb 9b; jKidd 66a). Already Samuel Krauss, who collected the evidence on the trades and crafts from Rabbinic literature, has stressed that manual professions in Roman Palestine go by family succession, and even speculates that Nazareth may have been a settlement particularly of carpenters, as other similar small towns were completely dominated by a single profession practiced by a family clan.29 Another Hebrew term, ḫārāš, a word already used in the Hebrew Bible (31 times), has a much more general meaning “artisan”, and is often used with a defining modifier.30 This is the word the Septuagint usually translates as τέκτων (22 times). If in the Septuagint τέκτονες is used of someone working on monumental buildings, interestingly in all cases a modifier is used, specifying the material worked on.31 The ḫᵃrāšîm (τέκτονες) in Zech 2:3s. are (supernatural!) metalworkers or smiths (in a messianic context, acting against the enemies of Israel).32 But these preliminary observations can only be a prelude to our argument, which brings us back to the original question: How did Jesus start travelling, and how might this relate to his family profession? Did he imitate Judas of Galilee or of Gamala, a founding figure of the “fourth philosophy” (of which the zealots were just a part), as suggested by Gerd Theißen?33 But why should Jesus have imitated a leader with a quite different theocratic and anti-empire agenda (cf. bell. 2, 118; ant. 18, 1–10)? The evidence for Judas of Galilee is also rather scanty. 29

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31 32 33

Krauss, Talmudische Archäologie 1, 254. He collects evidence on the building crafts in his Talmudische Archäologie 1, 20–22 and 2, 266–268. Op. cit. 1, 302 n. 260 stresses that the implements of the craft have to be supplied by the employer, though we also have evidence where the worker has his tools with him (cf. Campbell, What Was Jesus’ Occupation?, 510, quoting Ex. Rabbah 40, 1). Cf. beside the dictionaries also Campbell, What Was Jesus’ Occupation?, 502. The word later can also mean “sorcerer”. Cf. Ringgren/Hamp, Art. ḫārāš I, passim. Campbell, What Was Jesus’ Occupation?, 509. Cf. Lux, Sacharja 1–8, 181s. 185 and already Eisler, Iesus basileus ou basileusas 2, 188. Cf. Theißen, Jesus als historische Gestalt, 219–221, and more pointedly id., Die Entstehung des Neuen Testaments als literaturgeschichtliches Problem, 47.

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He certainly had to travel and is met at different places, but an itinerant lifestyle seems to be something different. Theißen has again and again stressed the social aspect of early Christian itineracy, its background in increasing poverty and “sozialer Entwurzelung”34, as he called it in his very earliest studies on the subject. This certainly is a possible explanation, but is it the only one? He also writes about the profession of Jesus: “Eine hohe Identifikation mit dem Handwerk kann kaum vorhanden gewesen sein“35. But may this perhaps pertain only to the later days of his public ministry, when he was well-known and did not have to rely on any self-earned income? And what about the perhaps 16–17 years working in his profession without public preaching (when we accept this to have started at age 30, but cf. the remarks below)? Now of course both in the religious and the philosophical field itinerant lifestyles are not so rare, and the Cynic hypothesis has been discussed in extenso, recently not just by New Testament scholars but also by scholars of cynicism as such, as by Marie-Odile Goulet-Cazé. Even Catherine Hezser who wrote the most detailed study on Jewish travel in antiquity emphasizes the mobility of Jesus, but never asks why he started travelling, stressing the seeming randomness of the places mentioned in the gospels.36 On the other hand, the profession of Jesus and his father has been the subject of some romanticizing, but has rarely been seriously considered as a source of his later lifestyle and perhaps even of some of his ideas. For example, the most comprehensive reference work on Jesus available in German at the moment, the “Jesus Handbuch” edited by Jens Schröter and Christine Jacobi, does not consider this aspect even in the chapters on the upbringing of Jesus and his educational background. The carpenter-tradition is mentioned, but never analyzed in its wider implications. Even Joseph Verheyden, who discusses “Jesus als Wanderprediger”, does not ask what his travelling may mean in connection to what we know about his professional background.37 Most scholars simply never ask how he became what he was. Adela Yarbro Collins in her large commentary on Mark also does not discuss any consequences of Jesus having been a τέκτων in her comments on Mark 638, to mention just a few recent works of major scholarship bordering on our question. Now of course others have made at least a tentative point for such a connection. Jesus has even been called confidently a “Steinhandwerker auf Montage”39, but is has rarely been discussed 34 35 36 37 38 39

Theißen, Studien zur Soziologie des Urchristentums, 110. L.c. 111. Hezser, Jewish Travel in Antiquity, 42–44. Verheyden, Jesus als Wanderprediger, 262–272. Collins, Mark, 287–292. Ebner, Jesus ein Weisheitslehrer?, 425. Ebner commits the common mistake of attributing to Jesus building techniques used in modern times, when for poorer families only stone and mud have been available, not considering the radical changes in the vegetation of Galilee known e.g. from Josephus and after 2000 years of desertification. Furthermore, even stone houses often had wooden beams for the roofs (cf. Mk 2:4), wooden door-frames

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what exactly that might mean for his later ministry. A number of times it has been speculated whether Joseph and Jesus might have been connected to the building programme at Sepphoris, which strangely is never mentioned in the gospels, though it was the largest city near the hometown of Jesus.40 Markus Tiwald even has argued this workplace must be assumed (“unweigerlich”41, as he says). If this has been the case, the need for an explanation of why Sepphoris and Tiberias were clearly avoided by Jesus in his later wanderings becomes even more urgent. I will here offer another suggestion, which looks for the roots of itineracy not primarily in any religious charismatic impulse, but in the necessities of professional life, and will try to bring into the picture what we know about itinerant workers in the early Roman Empire. Statements about the social class of Jesus are notoriously difficult (“unterer Mittelstand”42, says Markus Tiwald, even using the term “Kleinbürgertum”, which to me with all due respect sounds anachronistic). We cannot say to what degree these categories may apply to itinerant workers. As many of them have quite comfortable funerary inscriptions, as we will see, we must perhaps not see them necessarily as being completely destitute. Judaism does not have a paradigm of religious preachers as wandering, though of course some degree of mobility not just in the rather small country of Palestine/Israel but also between the Diaspora and Jerusalem is clearly visible. One of our basic insights will be that being a travelling preacher and being an itinerant artisan goes together quite well. The most obvious example of course is Paul, earning his living from his own handiwork, as did Aquila and Priscilla. Nazareth, a very small hamlet with probably less than a hundred houses (it is, as is well known, never mentioned in the OT or older Jewish literature) would not have allowed for much paid labor, and would not have supported the large family of Joseph (at least seven children, perhaps more). Sepphoris is not the only possibility for finding employment for a carpenter. Even more plausible is

40

41 42

and doors, wooden ceilings, and so on. Cf. on housebuilding the archaeological evidence collected in Fiensy, The Galilean House in the Late second temple and Mishnaic periods (238 on wooden beams). Even in the sixth century, Nazareth (still a small largely Jewish town) could be described as a “paradise of grain and fruit” (though these were smaller than in Egypt), being particularly rich in wine, oil and apple-trees (Piacenza pilgrim 5 ed. Geyer). And we of course do not even know whether Joseph and Jesus worked mainly in Galilee, and what exactly they may have produced in their craft. Ships e.g. could only be built from wood. Stone work was also important for the stoned and plastered pools, more than three hundred of which have been found in Galilee and Judaea. I mention these complexities since the triumphalism with which some exegetes contradict those Church fathers imagining Jesus as working with wood is rather disproportionate. Batey, ʿIs not this the Carpenter?ʾ, has argued for this at some length. Wolter, Jesus von Nazareth, 60, takes it as a plausible guess. Tiwald, Wanderradikalismus, 58. Tiwald, Wanderradikalismus, 57.

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work in Jerusalem for some months at a time. Tens of thousands of workers were needed for the temple area with its evenly cut and smoothly chiseled stones, not using any kind of mortar (cf. John 2:20). Josephus, ant. 15, 388–390; 20, 219, gives some details: a number of 18 000 workers is mentioned (though this of course has varied in different years), and as these were paid, the exact number may come from account statements. Very large numbers of unemployed workers would have been a major social problem, forcing Agrippa II to raise the east portico of the temple and starting other building projects once the main building was completed (ant. 20, 220s.). In this connection it deserves attention that Jesus, though a Galilean, later on has private connections to the Jerusalem area (Lk 10:38–42; John 11 and 12:1–3; Mk 14:3–39 and perhaps also v. 12–16).43 Large building projects certainly also took place after Herod’s death in Caesarea maritima with its monumental harbor building venture, in the recently founded Tiberias and in other cities. Herod Antipas had started a large urbanization project in Galilee. All these needed very large groups of specialists in stone and wood work. My suggestion is that Jesus started his preaching and healing career as a traveller in wood and perhaps stone work, because this was what he was doing anyway. This would mean that Jesus never chose the itinerant lifestyle: it was his way of living since his early youth. A basic insight for this hypothesis is that travelling, trading, being an itinerant worker or trader and preaching or being a missionary can go together quite well. We may start with a well-known Jewish example. The most important conversion to Judaism in the first century has been the decision of Izates and his mother Helena of the royal dynasty of the Kingdom of Adiabene to turn to Judaism, perhaps a few years after the death of Jesus. The details are quite intriguing.44 It had been the travelling tradesman Ananias who talked about Judaism to the young soon-to-be king, convincing him to convert, which at the same time also happens to his mother Helena, who is converted by another travelling person. This takes place at Charax Spasinu, centre of the India trade (mostly in rare perfumes, animals and gems) at the Persian Gulf and also famous for its pearl divers, where the royal family spent some time. It is not surprising to meet Jewish merchants there, though of course a worker is some-thing different from a merchant; we will come back to this aspect. We hear much about the discussion whether it would be prudent to give in to the demand for circumcision. Only after another travelling Jew (who comes from Galilee, as it happens) strongly argues in favor of circumcision, the king gives in (Josephus, ant. 20, 34–48). These are clearly itinerant merchants who 43

44

Tiwald, Wanderradikalismus, 58 tries to put some distance between Jesus and urban culture: the city on the mountain is imagined from some distance. But this of course is not to say that Jesus did not visit Jerusalem as a worker during his long artisan years. Cf. Frenschkowski, Iranische Königslegende in der Adiabene, and more recently the book of Marciak, Izates, Helena, and Monobazos of Adiabene, discussing my findings and much enlarging our knowledge of these events.

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have deeply religious interests and even some daring: speaking to the king’s son and moving him to conversion and circumcision is a quite courageous act. Later Izates becomes a major figure in Jewish-Eastern/Parthian relations. Another example may be discussed, which is even closer to Jesus and where coming to another country specifically as a carpenter leads to successful preaching. This of course is the story of Thomas in the apocryphal Acts of Thomas, which probably were written in the early 3rd century. Generally it has been taken for granted that the Syriac version is the original, though recently there has been some argument in favor of the Greek version, but this does not touch on our question. Thomas is sold by Jesus as a slave to an India trader (the Roman India trade is much flourishing in the early Empire, declining only in the 3rd century), and comes to India, where he immediately becomes famous for the excellency of his craft and performance as a carpenter. His profession is described in detail. Thomas is interviewed by the king: “ʻWhat do you know to make?ʼ Judas45 said to him: ‘I know (how) to make yokes and ploughs, and oxgoads, and oars for barges and ferryboats, and masts for ships; and in hewn stone, tombs and palaces for kings.’” (Acts of Thomas 17 tr. Klijn). The king is looking exactly for these skills, and Thomas is commissioned to build a new palace. What follows certainly is one of the most beautiful tales we have from early Christianity, which doesn’t need to be retold here. The legendary story imagines a carpenter, a displaced person who nevertheless even as displaced person becomes a successful preacher. It is certainly a mistake to see travelling in all cases as something particularly charismatic. Cyprian, de lapsis 6, speaks about bishops who travel around and preach, working at the same time as procurators of large agricultural latifundia. They are preaching their new religion and at the same time earn money from a supervisory and controlling function in rural administration. Cyprian is not too happy about this combination. We note, however, that once again both go together quite well. (Many church officials in the 2.–4. centuries worked in a craft alongside their church commitment, of course, e.g. as jewellers). Marcion is said by Rhodon and Tertullian, probably young men in Marcion’s old age, to have been a “mariner” and a “shipmaster” respectively. At some time in the late 130s CE, Marcion seems to have come to Rome, joining the local congregation and even making a large donation of 200 000 sesterces from his income when looking for adherents. The following conflicts are well-known (his money was eventually returned to him). The mobility of ναύκληροι, shipmasters, is well documented (the word can also mean just owners of ships). Paul, Aquila and Priscilla and certainly others as well worked in their respective professions while also preaching and doing missionary work for their religious movement. The use in 2Cor 2:17 of καπηλεύω “trade in, peddle” (t. t. of retail trade) as something to be avoided when preaching may be related. We are reluctant to imagine the same for Jesus, and the 45

I.e. Judas Thomas.

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gospels never explicitly say so, Luke and John even leaving out any remarks on his father’s profession. But again, even if Jesus at some time lived from money and hospitality given to him by local devotees (cf. e.g. Lk 8:1–3), it is clear that his family did not support him, and there must have been a time when he was not yet well-known, and he somehow must have earned his living.46 There is so far not anything charismatic or utopian in this kind of travelling, working and preaching, though one scenario may emerge from the other. This is very different from later Christian itineracy, when congregations existed and a pattern was defined. It is certainly true that there can be charismatic and perhaps utopian elements in itineracy, as may be seen in the case of Apollonius of Tyana (we do not know whether he truly travelled from Spain to India, but it is far from impossible), in the case of the μητραγύρτοι and perhaps in the case of some Cynics47, though it can easily degenerate into scrounging and beggary (Did 11:6. 12; cf. Lucian, de morte Peregrini 16 and also Q 10:7s.). When Did 11:5s. says that no one can stay more than one or at most two days, this virtually destroys a travelling lifestyle, as there simply could not have existed enough congregations to travel in this style for months and years (wherever the Didache has been written). In all these cases itineracy has a story: it emerges, it has a background, it develops, and it degenerates, coming into contact with beggary and perhaps crime. It is probable that itineracy in many cases took place for certain short periods of time, and then Jesus and his disciples spend some longer time in particular towns where they were welcome. Capernaum is an obvious candidate, and of course we even hear of a visit to the original home of Peter and the healing of his mother-in-law. This visit may have been something more substantial than an afternoon cake and coffee (if this flippancy might be excused). Unfortunately we do not know much more about this. The apocryphal Acts of the Apostles show that hospitality for preachers in private upper-class homes often extended to weeks and perhaps months. The borderline between being a preacher in one house and working on some manual job for a neighbor’s house may not have been clear-cut, particularly if any suspicion of exploiting hospitality has to be avoided. But we have to come to the vital question which combines our two lines of inquiry so far: What do we know about ancient τέκτονες? We are in the fortunate position that some years ago, unnoticed by NT scholarship, a historian of antiquity collected the inscriptions and papyri from early Roman times 46

47

Curiously, Epictetus says that carpenters (τέκτονες) are not known for making many words: when you hire them, they will not explain much or start a discourse on the art of building but will just start working (diss. 3, 21, 4, 1). Thomas and Jesus may have been different in this regard … For full discussion with all available evidence see Goulet-Cazé, Kynismus und Christentum in der Antike. A rare technical term for wandering around from village to village is κωμοδρομέω (Pollux 9, 11), but this seems never to have been applied to the Cynics.

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mentioning τέκτονες, and their number is surprisingly quite large.48 Kai Ruffing enumerates about 315 papyri mentioning τέκτονες, often in some detail, as also a large number of inscriptions set up for or even by them. Many of these are funerary monuments. (This by the way is one of many arguments why Jesus will not have been illiterate: literacy of artisans is not so uncommon, and with Jewish artisans will have been even higher). The people documented in these texts could have been both simple workers in wood, more rarely in stone, but they could also have been what we would call an architect, who takes the main responsibility in planning and building a house. Specialized expertise was much sought after, and according to Ruffing the professions connected to building were often more highly specialized than we formerly have known49. Contracts between employers and such artisans were often only for a very limited time of work, a year or half a year.50 We are reminded of some remarks in Varro, the great Latin scholar of the late Republic deeply interested in country life, that small landowners do not like to buy more specialized slaves, but prefer commissioning travelling workers and also carpenters for their kind of work, who for this reason travel from small estate to estate, from farmyard to farmyard (Varro, de re rustica 1, 16, 4, where fabri, medici and fallones are mentioned). Also, when they buy slaves to work in these trades and the slaves die, it would be a rather heavy financial loss. So more specialized and demanding assignments are given to free and travelling workers; many seem to have been libertini. Carpenters are particularly mentioned in this connection (fabri, which also may be metal and stone workers, but here mainly woodwork is in view).51 (Of course there existed also seasonal workers on the fields, but this is another matter.) Cato, de agricultura 14, says the same about building measures: a travelling master of the craft (once again a faber) will be hired for a very limited time: then he will have to find another employer. Day laborers even should be hired strictly only for a day: becoming friends with local permanent salaried workers or slaves should be prevented.52 That such a preference may pose particular problems may be implied from the explicit demand to support local smiths, carpenters and potters in a number of later sources (as Geoponica 2, 49, which in Byzantine times collects earlier material). 48

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50 51

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My thanks go to Kai Ruffing, Professor of ancient history at the University of Kassel, who besides his two-volume work discussed in the text also has made available to me some smaller studies relevant to our topic. These publications have opened up quite new perspectives of research on how τέκτονες and similar craftsmen may have lived in early Roman times. Cf. Ruffing, Die berufliche Spezialisierung in Handel und Handwerk 1, 131 on different professions in the building sector. Ruffing, Die berufliche Spezialisierung in Handel und Handwerk 1, 211. Cf. Gummerus, Der römische Gutsbetrieb als wirtschaftlicher Organismus 5. 34–38. 41–49. 68–72 (summary on “auswärtige Arbeiter”: 72), and more generally Kornemann, Fabri. Cf. Flach, Römische Agrargeschichte, 126.

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In later times (4th or even early 5th century) a major source, Palladius, op. agricult. 1, 6, 2, still stresses the importance of ferrarii and lignarii (stone and wood workers) for the owner of an agricultural estate; their itinerancy is not mentioned in this case, however, but mobility at this time was much reduced by state regulations (see below). The degree of specialization is different in the crafts and in trade. Trades dealing with food products tend to be more specialized, in the crafts it is clearly mostly those who work in stone, wood, and metal who have special expertise. A formal apprenticeship is documented only for very few professions, mostly once again those dealing with wood and stone, where highly technical knowledge was required.53 (John of Lycopolis, famous 4th century prophet, was once an apprentice in carpentry).54 In some instances a τεχνίτης is a learned worker, an ἐργάτης an unlearned one, at least in Egypt, from where of course the papyrus evidence comes.55 The most exciting finding for our context, however, is that τέκτονες and workers in similar crafts have a tendency not to die where they are born. Distances can be quite great. In a smaller study accompanying his large monograph, Ruffing collected the evidence for mobility in the working professions in the early Roman Empire, summarizing also some earlier studies by other scholars. We can reconstruct detailed travel routes, though of course more for traders than for workers. In many cases, a long-term move is documented, as when a glas manufacturer moves from Sidon to Rome, and a number of times we hear of πραγ-ματευόμενοι Ῥωμαῖοι, trading Romans.56 Many inscriptions mention groups as the Ἀλεξανδρεῖς πραγματευόμενοι ἐν Περίνθῳ, showing groups of common origin working and perhaps living together. We have literally hundreds of inscriptions documenting the trade and work connections between all the larger cities in the empire. Famous is the Flavius Zeuxis inscription, who during his life in the first century CE travelled 72 times between Italy and Asia Minor (SEG 51 n. 1785bis). But this is trade, not itinerant work. We often also have evidence for short-term assignments, which means for itineracy of laborers. And here comes the biggest surprise. The one group best documented for its mobility all over the empire are the τέκτονες and similar professions, particularly the masons. “Betrachtet man den Befund insgesamt, wird die herausragende Rolle der Mobilität von dem steinverarbeitenden Gewerbe angehörigen Personen

53 54

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Ruffing, Die berufliche Spezialisierung in Handel und Handwerk 1, 365. Cf. the references in Jones, The Later Roman Empire 2, 861. 1359 n. 89, and on John of Lycopolis as a prophet Frenschkowski, Prophetie, 220. 228. 247. Ruffing, Die regionale Mobilität von Händlern und Handwerkern nach den griechischen Inschriften, 140 n. 57. In Ikononion we hear of δοκιματογλύφοι, which may have been examinated masons (Ruffing, Die berufliche Spezialisierung in Handel und Handwerk 2, 368). Ruffing, Die regionale Mobilität von Händlern und Handwerkern nach den griechischen Inschriften, 135.

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deutlich, namentlich von Bildhauern und Steinmetzen.”57 This had already been noted by earlier studies in the field, as e.g. by A. H. M. Jones: “The building workers were from the nature of their craft to some extent itinerant.”58 Some examples may be given.59 Ἀγαλματογλύφοι, sculptors from Dokimeion, work in Ikonion, ἀνδριαντοποιοί (which seems to be something similar) from Milet can be met at Athens, a λατύπος, a stone-cutter from Katoana, dies and is buried in Akmonia. A λευκουργός who works with marble comes from Nicomedia but is buried in Portus: a long voyage. A group of λιθοξόοι “stone-masons” from Nicomedia form an association in Nicopolis ad Istrum, and quite a number of Nicomedian workers in stone and also dealers in stone (λιθέμποροι) are mentioned in our sources,60 as e.g. on a Mithraic inscription in Moesia inferior.61 A δομοτέκτων (architect? master-builder?) from Nicaia dies also in Nicopolis ad Istrum. A μαρμάριος who works in marble from the Lydian Tripolis is buried in Rome. In Rome we find also foreign specialists in wood work, as an οἰκοδόμος ξυλοεργός, which means someone who builds houses specifically from wood, who also comes originally from Nicomedia (SEG IV 105). A τορευτής, a relief worker in stone from Azanoi dies in Smyrna, and so on. Very often we hear of copper smiths dying at places very far from where they were born. Ruffing, summarizing the work of other scholars, also comes to the conclusion that travelling trade and work in the Roman Empire was “an der Tagesordnung”.62 This is a vital statement for our quest, though of course the number of workers never leaving their home towns may have been great as well. Travelling Jewish workers are not rare either, though we do not seem to meet a τέκτων in our (in this case) much more limited sources. But we already noted the very large numbers of stone workers in Jerusalem who must have come from many places. A Jewish baker from Egypt works and dies in Jaffa, a Syrian ἀργυρτοτέχνης who works in silver is buried in Termessos, and so on. Which of course means that the young man Jesus might very well have seen much more of the world than just Sepphoris, during the at least 16–17 years he worked in the profession. But in the story of the prodigal son working far away from home this is something rather unpleasant, so he may not have liked it (pushing our evidence too far, of course …). Jesus certainly did never share the 57 58 59

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Ruffing, l.c. 140. Jones, The Later Roman Empire 2, 863. Complete references for the following examples can be found in Ruffing, Die regionale Mobilität von Händlern und Handwerkern nach den griechischen Inschriften. Ruffing, Die regionale Mobilität von Händlern und Handwerkern nach den griechischen Inschriften, 144. On Pergamene masons whose craft was much in demand in various cities of Greece and Asia Minor already in Hellenistic times cf. Rostovtzeff, The Social and Economic History of the Hellenistic World 1, 565; 3, 1451. Ruffing, Die regionale Mobilität von Händlern und Handwerkern nach den griechischen Inschriften, 145. L.c. 147; cf. this article for other evidence mentioned in the text.

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cosmopolitanism of e.g. Cicero (“patria est ubicumque est bene” Tuscul. disp. 5, 108). Migrant workers, it might be mentioned, could also in some cases be seen as sources of unrest and upheaval.63 In Sardes still in 459 CE we hear about social conflicts involving a guild of masons and stone-cutters and the terms of their contract.64 The idea of any closed economy in antiquity and even in Palestine, where products are produced and sold at essentially the same place, has been largely discarded by scholars of ancient economy. Travel and trade are universal though to a degree dependent on many factors. Distribution networks can only be defined for certain products such as pottery65, and broader conclusions are difficult. Catherine Hezser has been skeptical about the actual volume of trade and indeed strongly contradicts accounts like the one by Ze’ev Safrai who sees Roman Palestine deeply connected by trade to other parts of the Levante.66 But the evidence for a quickly expanding road network, and the extensive trade across the Mediterranean, together with other factors, allow for some skepticism about Hezsers skeptical attitude which is not shared by others like Safrai or the present writer. She does not discuss the group of wandering artisans, which will need a more specialized study by specialists on ancient Jewish economy at some future time. Interestingly, all this combines well so far with how the work of a τέκτων is imagined in early Christian narrative literature. The Protevangelium Iacobi (Infancy Gospel of James) 13 (cf. 9) imagines Joseph as a rather well-to-do craftsman, having a small craft business. But by far the most interesting feature is that Joseph only finds out about Mary’s pregnancy after six months, when coming home from a building job (ἦλθεν ἀπὸ τῶν οἰκοδομῶν αὐτοῦ). This means that he is imagined being away from home not for a day or a few days, but for many months at a time. The story itself is a legend, but the social reality it depicts will be realistic (teachers are also said to wander around and offer their services for a limited time, then travelling on to the next city). For this secondcentury text, being a τέκτων means to be away from home for long periods of time. This would apply to Jesus as well. In the Infancy Gospel of Thomas 13, Joseph is embarrassed that he does not have the right length of wooden planks to fabricate a bed or perhaps a sedan or litter, and is helped in this by Jesus performing a miracle. He moves here to some degree within an upper-class

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Cf. Günther, Der politische Widerstand gegen Rom im 2. und 1. Jhdt. v. Chr. – Phygades (ΦΥΓΑΔΕΣ) als Feinde der Pax Romana, 123–138. Jones, The Later Roman Empire 2, 859–860. He speaks about casual labourers as the “lowest stratum of the urban population” and “particular numerous in the building industry” (l.c. 2, 858), and also stresses that trades usually were hereditary (2, 861). The guilds of bakers also were sometimes in open conflict with city authorities in late antiquity (2, 860). Cf. e.g. Hezser, Jewish Travel in Antiquity, 410. Safrai, The Economy of Roman Palestine.

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milieu, which would necessitate extensive travel.67 The Palestinian harbours (Acco/Ptolemais, Dora, Caesarea, Jaffo, Ashqelon, Gaza) would allow for extensive trade even across the Mediterranean. Itineracy for some time of the year obviously does not preclude cultivating a small tract of land in Nazareth, perhaps with help from his younger children not accompanying him on travels as a wood or stone worker. Trade-related travel is a subject often mentioned in the Rabbinic sources, in all possible directions. Peddlars travelling from village to village are an everyday sight.68 The Jewish material on travelling artisans has never been seriously collected, however, and might lead to more complex results. This would be a larger project that cannot be undertaken in this small study, and we have to content ourselves with some stray remarks. Once when building a chapel, Gregory of Nyssa asked Amphilochius, bishop of Iconium, to send him stone and wood workers skilled at vaulting, as the 30 masons he already had a contract with were much too expensive, and he wanted a new contract which specified the amount of work to be done per day and did not force him to pay for days on which they did not work (epist. 25). Here itinerant workers replace local workers who are too expensive: of course a very wellknown phenomenon even today. There is much evidence that many artisans worked in what (a bit anachronistically) might be called guilds, a special form of associations (collegia), a social structure supporting local loyalties and increasingly enforced by law from the fourth century on. Acts 19:24s. knows of a guild of silversmiths: “Δημήτριος γάρ τις ὀνόματι, ἀργυροκόπος, ποιῶν ναοὺς ἀργυροῦς Ἀρτέμιδος παρείχετο τοῖς τεχνίταις οὐκ ὀλίγην ἐργασίαν, οὓς συναθροίσας καὶ τοὺς περὶ τὰ τοιαῦτα ἐργάτας εἶπεν”. In the Alexandrian synagogue, such guilds of different artisans had particular places where they took their seats, as bSukka 51b says, and Greek inscriptions provide much evidence that at some places there were special associations for some trades at least. These are particularly well known for metal workers, workers in textiles and in food productions, and steadily increased in importance from the 1st to the 4th century, but, as already Franz Poland noted, an early historian of ancient associations, “Auffällig gering ist verhältnismäßig die Zahl der mit der Steinbearbeitung und dem Bauwesen beschäftigten Genossenschaften”,69 though we do have some examples already from late Hellenistic and early Roman Egypt, such as λιθουργοί, λατύποι, λατόμοι, λιθοξόοι and ἀρχιτέκτονες.70 Oxyrhynchus had at some later time a κοινόν of all τέκτονες.71 Furthermore, manual labourers often founded associations for 67 68 69 70 71

Cf. Arabic Infancy Gospel 38; Infancy Gospel of Ps.-Matthew 37:1; Infancy Gospel of Thomas 12; History of Joseph the Carpenter ed. Morenz 1:9; 2:1 a.o.. Hezser, op. cit., 434. Poland, Geschichte des griechischen Vereinswesens 1, 118. Poland, l.c. 1, 118. Poland, l.c. 1, 119.

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mutual support and also for ritual occasions.72 Collegia fabrum (rarely fabrorum) are common in the Latin-speaking part of the empire, but these are mostly associations of firefighters (of vital relevance in ancient cities, and wellorganized in the Roman Empire), a specialized meaning that had become technical.73 These observations only give some indications on the varying degree of itineracy for wood and stone workers: in rural areas itineracy generally must have been higher. (In the larger urban areas, slaves owned by the cities – referred to as servi publici by Romans or δημόσιοι by the Greeks – in many cases were used for such work instead). The reason why there are conspicuously few associations of τέκτονες in the Greek world as distinguished from other professions may have been precisely their travelling status, which made them change their place of work every few months. In Egypt there is some evidence, however, of at least some associations of τέκτονες, which rather interestingly did have priests of their own74. If we consider some plausibilites for the Semitic and Oriental world, we should take a quick look at least at the possibility that travelling professions may have been organized not as associations but as tribes with a common genealogical myth. This has been suggested particularly by the Jewish-Austrian scholar Robert Eisler (1882–1949), who in 1938 was able to flee after 15 months in Dachau and Buchenwald destroying his health, spending his last years in British exile undergoing severe hardships. His large and erudite, though often curiously erratic works are still well-known by name, though obviously rarely read. He is much underrated as a source of inventive observations75. It must not be forgotten that the basic social structure of Israel even in late antiquity is not the twelve tribes, which no longer exist, but the many smaller tribes, parts of Judah and Levi, which we like to call families, but which often have hundreds and thousands of members (who can live at quite different places, but

72 73

74 75

Cf. e.g. Poland, l.c. 1, 117 (TAM III 4) on leather workers (perhaps the profession of Paul). Full documentation and list of references in Kornemann, Fabri. They are known from almost all major cities even in Gallia Narbonensis, Africa, Hispania, Illyricum, Pannonia, Noricum and other western parts of the empire. Poland, l.c. 1, 343. Eisler, Iesus basileus ou basileusas: die messianische Unabhängigkeitsbewegung vom Auftreten Johannes des Täufers bis zum Untergang Jakobs des Gerechten nach der neuerschlossenen Eroberung von Jerusalem des Flavius Josephus und den christlichen Quellen, 2 vols. (1929–1930); The Messiah Jesus and John the Baptist (1931). The English version of this magnum opus of course is much abridged and had to leave out most of the documentation; thus for serious discussion the German version has to be preferred, though the English version is often clearer. There are many supplementary smaller publications by Eisler little known today though they are often marred by non sequitur arguments.

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sociologically have to be described also as tribes or clans).76 Society was organized a bit like in Afghanistan, Iraq and Jordania even today, where your tribal affiliation defines your primary social place. Quite often smaller tribes at the lower end of the social spectrum are defined by special professions, as it is in the Arab world even today, and this particularly applies to occupations with a large degree of mobility.77 Guilds or associations of artisans with a tribe-like organization are alluded to a few times in the OT (Neh 3:8.31; 1Chron 4:21–23 a.o.), but once again the full evidence will need further sifting of data, and allows for a longue durée of such structures from antiquity to the present. Josephus speaks about streets and areas devoted to particular professions in Jerusalem, also a well-known social and economic phenomenon (bell. 5, 331). He does only rarely mention the smaller professions at the lower end of the social spectrum, however, so his silence on wandering artisan tribes in Roman times must perhaps not be overrated. It has tentatively been suggested by Eisler that families of τέκτονες had a tribal structure supporting local mobility, as we know about Kenites and Rekabites in older times. This would need a much more lengthy discussion, but Eisler’s arguments deserve some attention.78 Eisler shows that we have evidence for wandering tribes of goldsmiths, musicians, metal workers and other artisans, and that these indeed can be seen as a constant element in oriental societies. How they function we know of course mainly from much later sources as those about the Ṣlēb in Arabia, and the many tinker-like groups of the oriental world well-documented since the Middle Ages. Just to mention one of his surprising findings: There is strange evidence that a number of such artisan tribes claim descent from old kingly families, as the family of Jesus seems to have done. The most well-known example are the Banū Sāsān, wandering and generally despised artisans known all over the Arab world who claim descent from Persian royalty, the Sasanians, and are often mentioned in medieval Arabic literature.79 (They also have a Jewish element). Interestingly, this very thing may happened to the descendants of Zorobabel, the last person from the Davidic line holding an official ministry in Palestine. Of course many Jewish families on all social levels even today claim Davidic descent, and in late antiquity and the Middle Ages this was still more common.80 In Second Temple 76

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On tribal and clan structures surviving also in Hellenistic and Roman Syria see some evidence in my study: Are Syrians Aramaeans? The evidence is mainly epigraphic, as Roman and Greek writers could not easily understand such social structures. Much evidence for this is collected e.g. in Henninger, Pariastämme in Arabien, e.g. 277. Cf. Eisler, Iesus basileus u basileusas 2, 178–193. 199. 212. 216f. 239s. 250. 572. 697, and more generally on travelling artisans 2, 23. 242.367. 477. 695. 728. 242. Rekabites as healers: l.c. 2, 190. Eisler, Iesus basileus ou basileusas 2, 184; for a full discussion cf. also Bosworth, Banū Sāsān. There seem to be similar stories about descendants of the Barmacids (Eisler, The Messiah Jesus and John the Baptist, 325). Cf. e.g. https://www.davidicdynasty.org/ (Jan. 15th, 2020).

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days, the Davidic clan was still so numerous that it had its own day to deliver the prescribed wood-offerings (mTaʾan. 4, 5). It would have been virtually impossible to invent such a claim about a major figure (as Jesus) without a supporting family tradition (which of course need not be accurate).81 The story about Hillel as being of Davidic descent, earning his money as a wood-cutter, and travelling from Babylon to Palestine may or may not be historical, but it could be told as quite plausible (yTaʾan 4:2, 68a; BerR 98 ed. Theodor/Albeck 1259, and some other passages). There is nothing intrinsically improbable about an artisan family claiming to come from an older dynasty of nobility, and strangely, this applies particularly to wandering artisan tribes (cf. similar tales about the Roma, Mercheros and other Travellers, whose leaders often have claimed to be of highest nobility).82 Also Islamic traditions about Jewish clans claiming Davidic descent are well-known.83 Social mobility has many aspects: During the uprising in Jerusalem we hear of a high priest from a poor family who had been a former stone-cutter (tYoma 1, 6; cf. Joseph. bell. 4, 147–150. 153–157). Another strange, even fascinating observation about travelling artisan tribes in the Semitic world is that they are quite often seen as healers, though with some suspicion, perhaps more as magicians than healers. This is well-documented e.g. for the Ṣlēb in Arabia, the most well-known of the so-called pariah tribes (“Pariastämme”, a term invented by Max Weber)84. They are spoken of mostly contemptuously, no connubium with other Arabic tribes is practiced, but on the other hand they are 81

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The wider field of genealogical legends and their place in Jewish imagination, popular royal aspirations, the mass of information we have about stories of Davidic descent in Judaism, and also the other traditions we have about the δεσπόσυνοι as part of the old royal line is completely left out of the argument in many books on Jesus, as e.g. Wolter, Jesus von Nazareth, 55s. Rom 1:3 takes Davidic descent of Jesus as general knowledge without the slightest hint there were any doubt about this; and John 7:42 of course only gives evidence for much later Jewish assaults comparable to the fama about the stolen corpse of Jesus known from Mt. Mk 10:48 clearly shows that Mark also took this genealogical story to be common knowledge (strangely overlooked in Wolter, op. cit. 55, where Mk 12:35–37 seems to me misunderstood). Cf. Groome, Gypsy Folk-Tales, X-XII etc., and the Jewish folktale of a king turning beggar (bSanh 20b, and very often). In Folklore Studies the underlying motive is Mot. L419.2. “King (prince) becomes beggar” cf. Mot. J1337 “Beggar claims to be emperor’s brother” and generally on beggars Mot. P160–169. Interestingly, some travelling tribes in 19th century North Africa confined themselves exclusively to producing wooden utensils (Groome, op. cit., XVII), whereas in Europe similar groups are more often what in German is called “Kaltschmiede” (travelling “chaltsmide” claiming descent from Biblical Ishmael are mentioned already in German 12th century sources). Qurʼān 34: 14 and cf. for later sources Franklin, This Noble House. Jewish Descendants of King David in the Medieval Islamic East (a work of vital importance, using also many manuscript sources, and discussing the evidence from antiquity as well). Weber, Die Wirtschaftsethik der Weltreligionen. Das Judentum, 2. 65–70. 119–144 a.o. Weber already stressed the impact itinerant or semi-itinerant artisan clans or tribes have on movements of social upheaval and popular messianism. On their “umgekehrte Elitenbildung” cf. also Mühlmann, Chiliasmus und Nativismus, 233–239.

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regarded as healers, fortune-tellers and magicians85, and the Ṣlēb women are asked for abortive medicine and similar prescriptions. Like the Biblical Kenites they have special tribal signs, and their similarity to the Kenites is indeed rather uncanny. They generally have a jargon of their own, do not own land or houses, live from metal and stone work (as the European tinkers), but also to some degree from healing (particularly animals) and sometimes from fortunetelling.86 This of course needs more discussion than can be supplied here. The LXX translators seem to have understood the Rephaim as living ἰατροί “physicians” (Is 26:14; Ps 88(87):11): these also may have had a tribal structure (the word of course has many meanings; cf. the “valley of Rephaim” or perhaps “healers” near Jerusalem). Greek literature and iconography also knows of a large group of traditions on artisan clans, mostly smiths, who are often persons with peculiar physical features as dwarfism, and sometimes a subject of myth and legend. The most commonly mentioned ones are the Kabeiroi, Telchines and Daktyloi, and they are not just smiths, producing weapons and jewelry, but often also seen as magicians, healers or on the other hand as evil sorcerers. It is quite clear that they are reminiscences of older smith clans with an essentially tribal

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Henninger, Pariastämme in Arabien, 191; on the prohibition of marrying the Ṣlēb see also 258. 266; on healing tribes also Eisler, op. cit. 2, 190; Pieper, Der Pariastamm der Ṣlêb, 11. 37s. Generally on more recent comparable social phenomena in the Arab and Iranian world see Oppenheim, Die Beduinen 4/1. Die arabischen Stämme in Chūzistān (Iran), Pariastämme in Arabien (mainly written by Werner Caskell). All this needs further elucidation. Eisler brings the traditions about Kenites and Rekabites into the picture of small groups of travelling artisans and healers (both are connected, as Rekab, eponymous ancestor of the Rekabites, is said to have been a Kenite). There is clear evidence that the Kenites at least for a long time have been travelling smiths: the very word Qajin (‫ )קַ יִ ן‬and cognates mean “smith” still in Arabic and some Aramaic dialects (“urspr. Schmied, Metallhandwerker od. (?) Sklave (einer Gottheit)” Gesenius, Hebräisches und aramäisches Handwörterbuch über das Alte Testament, 1165). Far-reaching speculations on the Kenites of course are not rare; see e.g. Vogel, Onos Lyras 1, 423–527; 2, 634–658. Zanoah ‫ – הַ ַ ֖קּיִ ן‬Jos 15:57 – by the way is perhaps not “Zanoah the Kenite” but Zanoah the smith and for a comparative survey of smith terminology in many languages, not only the Semitic ones, see Blažek, The Indo-European “Smith” (85. 90 on Aramaic qēnay, qēnāʾā, Syriac qaynāyā, Arabic qain and many other forms). But did they still exist in NT times? It has been suggested (by Wellhausen, Nöldeke and others) that the Kenites as travelling metal workers survive in the Arab tribe of the Banū ʾl-Qain who lived exactly in the area plausible also for ancient Kenites. Cf. Fischer, al-Ḳain (skeptical), and generally also Vogel, Onos Lyras 1, 425s. (highly speculative; he also compares the Ethiopian Betä Ǝsraʾel, formerly called – with a derogatory word – Falasha “wanderers”, who also specialize in such work).

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structure.87 Another smith tribe in Asia Minor still active in Roman times are the Chalybes.88 This might look to be far off from a carpenter family in Galilee, but Eisler gives a number of surprising observations on the ideological background of uprisings, popular kings and similar figures discredited by the establishment and generally “on the move” (“Räuberbarone” is a German term) connected to such artisan clans. Modern research on messianic movements may be well advised not to overlook this later evidence, and its possible social connections to the carpenter background of Jesus.89 For our main argument this is just a highly speculative byline of possibilities, which we need not follow up here. Obviously speculations about where Jesus might have been as an itinerant carpenter or perhaps stone-worker, what he might have seen of Israel and the world in these earlier travelling days, are rather idle. Or are they? Of course we do not speak about purely fantastical ideas as the Jesus-in-India complex, a late 19th century invention. But perhaps our sources allow for some more cautious suggestions. The gospel of John as is well known imagines Jesus as rather openminded about Samaritans, and even talking at length to a Samaritan woman. Luke has a similar tendency with his story about the Good Samaritan, which most probably goes back to Jesus (cf. also Lk 9:51–56, where the Samaritans seem to be disappointed about Jesus, who expects their hospitality). But much stranger and certainly needing an explanation is the short passage in John where 87

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Cf. Dasen, Dwarfs in Ancient Egypt and Greece, 194–200; Prellwitz, Die Telchinen, 148–154 (quotes the relevant texts; on the Telchines and their alleged powers and other smith clans cf. also Frenschkowski, Magie, 50–52). A particularly interesting text from NT times on the Telchines as inventors of smithcraft and as sorcerors is Sueton’s fragmentary work περὶ δυσφήμων λέξεων s.v. (Suétone, Peri blasphēmiōn. Par Jean Taillardat. Paris 1967). Cf. also Diodor. Sicul. 5, 55; Strab. 14, 2, 7. These Chalybes are a smith clan of Northern Asia Minor, well-known even up to Armenia and located in quite different areas, not unusual for migratory groups of workers in metallurgy (Hecataios FGrH 1 F 203; Herodotus 1, 28; Orph. Argon ed. Vian 471). They are credited with inventing metallurgy and are called σιδηροτέκτονες (Aischyl. Pers. 715). They were still well-known in NT times, when they had concentrated on mining iron, not other metals as formerly (Strab. 12, 3, 19–23, discussing also different variants of the name). It is also known that they did not mix with other populations (Aischyl. Prometh. 302), as is often the case with tinker-like groups. For other relevant passages see Ruge, Chalybes, who without good arguments sees the Chalybes in Xenoph. Anab. 5, 5, 1; 4, 7, 15 as another tribe. Xenoph. says they lived almost exclusively from metal mining and smith-craft, working mainly with iron-rich fluvial sedimentary deposits (as described in detail by Aristot. de mir. auscult 49), a technology still in use in the 19th century in the same area (see Beck, Die Geschichte des Eisens 1, 263–267; cf. also 521. 780 a.o. on wandering Roma (gypsy) metal workers). More speculations on these clans in antiquity see e.g. in Eisler, Seevölker, 81–97. This might be a way to combine the well-known approaches of Richard Horsley and Gerd Theißen. Cf. also Hobsbawm, Bandits; id., Tramping Artisans, for classic researches on these social milieus.

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Jesus himself is called a Samaritan because he fraternizes with them (John 8:48). From where could anyone get that idea? Why should Jesus have been suspected of being a Samaritan himself? Perhaps his own connections to Samaritan villages were more elaborate and friendly than we see. Douglas Oakman and David Fiensy have argued persuasively that Jesus must have had a wider network of contacts prior to his public ministry, and that he must have been in some contact with quite well-to-do people: perhaps as an employee with short term contracts (which of course may have been unwritten agreements)?90 We may even wonder why it is said that Jesus stayed only for two days (John 4:43)? Might there possibly be some connection to the famous passage in Didache 11:4s. a prophet must not stay more than two days, proving himself a false prophet if he stays three days? Does the prohibition of a pre-Eastern mission in Samaria, exclusively known to Mt 10:5, support or contradict such possibilities? The main metaphorical field of the parables of Jesus is not really just agriculture, but management, possessions, employment, and of course building, from the crucial cornerstone to cost analysis prior to building. Fiensy even tries to prove that Jesus’ sayings do not much identify with the peasantry, as in the parable of the vineyard, where the point of view is clearly not that of the peasantry. The sympathy is with the owners, not the tenants.91 His contacts with rich landowners may have been more intimate than elder speculations conjectured. This may even be a background for his extreme skepticism about riches in later times. Some sayings of Jesus have been interpreted as special references to a carpenter’s craft, as the word on the splinter in the eye of your neighbor (Mt 7:24–27; Lk 13:4s; John 2:19). A splinter of wood behind the ear may have been a kind of identification sign of carpenters on the market (tShabb 1, 8). These are just specimens of possible connections between the carpenter’s craft and the later public ministry of Jesus. An alternative explanation for the Johannine passage we just mentioned would be that it is related to the early post-Easter mission of the Jesus movement in Samaria about which we learn from canonical Acts. In this case, early Jesus-followers would have been attacked for a later Samaritan connection; for the Jewish elite Samaritans are apostates (cf. e.g. Joseph. ant. 11, 340). But it seems unclear why this should have been conferred to Jesus. Perhaps the gospels did not have any clearer knowledge on the Samaritan and Judaean connections of Jesus, as these were not so much part of his preaching days, but of his former (and quite long) artisan life? Now this of course cannot be more than a possible suggestion. We have no clear evidence on Jesus early on being in contact with the non-Jewish Hellenistic and Roman world, either, but the possibility of this is increased if in his younger days he was not a stay-at-home. The Rabbinic and later Jewish stories of Jesus sojourning in Egypt and learning magic (known already to Celsus) may be just transformations 90 91

Fiensy, Christian Origins and the Ancient Economy, 221. Fiensy, op. cit., 46.

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of Mt 2, where the child Jesus spends some time in Egypt, combined with the defamation of his miracles as magic. It is however of some interest that at least one gospel does speak about Jesus outside of Palestine. Mt 2 is legend, but evading to Egypt is imagined as an obvious choice for the family of Jesus. The story is legend, but the social reality depicted once again may be realistic. It might perhaps be noted in this context (to add still another question mark) that our image of Jesus as a rather young man relies exclusively on Lk 3:23. In John 8:57 Jesus is asked, however, “You are not yet 50 years old and have seen Abraham”? This would suggest an image of Jesus as a slightly older man (you would not ask such a question about a man of thirty). In the ancient church Jesus is often imagined as having reached an age of 33 years, but (as is not generally known) not too rarely he is also imagined as an older man, living up to 40, 46 or even 50 years.92 Once again this shows how precarious our “standard model” is, in this case relying on a single verse in a single gospel. If there is any older tradition behind Mt 1–2, this also would mean that Jesus may have been much older when he died. A more complete history of artisan mobility in antiquity, distinguishing professions, regions, slaves and non-slaves etc. still has to be written. Autonomous migration of course was not the only migratory flux. Slave trade also contributed to mobility: “More than ten thousand workers were daily bought and sold in the Forum Boarium of Rome to be applied into the different productive tasks that the villas required.”93 It seems that slaves became less abundant during the second century CE, as replenishment from wars decreased. But also free workers became migratory to a degree not seen before in the world. From the late third century on and particularly in the era of the Christian emperors, this changed completely, as the mobility of workers became suppressed or at least severely limited. This applied first to agricultural workers (CIC Cod. Iustin. 11, 48 (47), 1) and with Valentinian and Valens became even stricter, with legal measures taken against those who tried to circumnavigate the rules against mobility, now also including workers trying to change their professions (l. c. 11, 48 (47), 2. 6. 11; cf. Liban. or. 29, 77 on the tough conditions this meant for the population). But in NT times things were different, as we have seen. A few supplementary words might be necessary on itineracy and beggary, as such a connection has been repeatedly suggested in New Testament scholarship, and has been considered to be an aspect of travelling. Has the early Jesus movement done any actual begging? There is no clear evidence. It is never mentioned in the sources, though some researchers have tried to prove that the first macarism actually means “Blessed are the beggars”.94 But the most 92

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The patristic evidence is collected in Lazzarato, Chronologia Christi seu discordantium fontium concordantia ad iuris normam, 483–503. Perelló, Working as a Migrant in Roman Antiquity, 5. Due to space restriction, only a few preliminary remarks on this affiliated question are possible here, and documentation has to be skipped almost altogether.

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complete survey on begging in antiquity, the study by Herbert Graßl, has proven that οἱ πτωχοί are often clearly no beggars, though in some cases they are. The technical terms for beggars are ἐπαίτης, πρόσαιτης, μεταίτης, προΐκτης, whereas ἀγύρτης and some similar terms are words for “vagante Gabensammler”, serving a particular deity and travelling around. In Christian texts these are strictly distinguished from beggars for poverty’s sake (Tertull. apol. 13, 6 cf. 42, 8; Min. Felix. Oct. 24, 11). The Latin term for beggar is mendicus, which primarily is a person handicapped in his physical abilities and forced to beg95, whereas a pauper must not be a beggar. A particular kind of poetry connected to beggary and used in walking from house to house (called “Heischelieder” in German) is rather well-known, but not so much in late antiquity: the evidence is mainly from older classical sources. But does this apply to the early Jesus movement, and will the evidence on the mental and cultural world of beggars help us to understand its itineracy? I cannot see much evidence for this. We hear about persons financially supporting the Jesus movement on a regular basis (Lk 8:1–3), and even about a common money bag monitoring the finances (John 12:6). The sheer success of the Jesus movement, stressed again and again in our sources, speaks against the necessity of begging. In some cases travelling artisans may have been forced to actual beggary when they did not find work, though we never hear about this in early Christian sources (for a special case see below). This does not mean, however, that Jesus did not use what has been called beggars’ wisdom, and of course the story of the rich man and the poor Lazarus is a tale in deep sympathy with a beggar. In the New Testament this is generally not a traveller, however, and we hear more about beggars having favorite places (as in Acts 3:2. 10, Mk 10:46–52 etc.). More generally, there is some Hellenistic and Roman evidence for beggars walking from city to city, in some cases also looking for work, or in some cases clearly connected to petty thievery (in German these are called “Landstreicher”). Greek literature speaks about these wandering beggars and destitute poor rather often. In Roman comedy, the figure of the beggar is very present, often seen as a petty criminal. Quite often we also hear about anxiety that beggars might become violent,96 or that they may be robbers. Under the Christian emperors, for beggars wandering from city to city became strictly forbidden, and administrative measures were taken to force beggars to stay in their home cities.97 But these are later developments. Jesus is very much concerned about the poor, of course98, and some of these will have been beggars. It will not surprise us that he used imagery that might possibly be derived from typical sayings and slogans used in begging. Mt 25:29 (cf. 13:12; Mk 4:25; Lk 8:18; 19:26) is an obvious example (having even originated in empirical 95 96

97 98

Graßl, Mendicus, 702. Graßl, Mendicus, 707. 709. 711. Interestingly, we often hear about violent competition between beggars, as already in the Odyssey. Graßl, Mendicus, 711. Graßl passim is to be compared for my following remarks. Cf. e.g. Dunn, Jesus remembered, 516–526.

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sociology the term “Matthew effect”). Q 11:9 (Mt 7:7s.) a term like “treasure in heaven” may have been beggar’s rhetoric (cf. Mt. 6:21; Lk 12:34; Mk 10; 21). “Do you want to have a treasure in heaven?” is easily conceivable as a beggar’s saying. But in early Christian stories of encounters with beggary, the beggar is without exception the other, the one to be healed, to receive compassion, and in the later apocryphal Acts of the Apostles, though we have many stories about travelling apostles, we never hear about them begging. Jewish wisdom literature is replete with passages despising and criticizing beggary.99 The wise man despises the beggar (Sir 25:2), and death should be preferred to begging (40:28). Judaism sees begging mostly as shameful and an unfortunate destiny to be avoided (Sir 40:28. 30; Lk 16:3 cf. Ps 37:25). Marcus Valerius Martialis, exact contemporary of our New Testament writings, strangely accuses Jewish parents of educating their children for organized beggary (12, 57, 12s.9) and this cannot be without any foundation in fact, as Iuvenal has two detailed passages about Jewish women begging, fortune-telling and offering their services as dreaminterpreters, and camping outside of the city, a bit as gypsies or other travellers would do in later times (3, 14–16; 6, 542s.). Rabbinic literature accuses beggars of simulating their handicaps; they are rarely seen with any sympathy. In Christian literature we often hear about beggars simulating or even willfully maiming their children so they can earn more money by beggary. Indeed this is a common subject, and much attacked by the Church writers. Jesus’ sympathy for beggars did not much extend to later Christian writers, though donations are a constant topic. All these observations do not make it probable that the need of beggary might have been a cause of itineracy in the Jesus movement. Beggars as fortunetellers are mentioned a number of times, however.100 Might it be possible that some of these saw themselves as small-scale prophets?101 One particular text may be relevant for our context, the well-known story from a Jewish-Christian gospel about a mason or stone-cutter with a lame arm asking Jesus for a healing miracle so that he will not shamefully have to beg. This is quoted by Jerome (and by a number of medieval writers probably depending on him) “in euangelio quo utuntur Nazareni et Hebionitae”, in the gospel of the Nazarenes (in Mt. 12, 13 (CCL 77, 90)102). The man is strangely not called a faber by Jerome (the usual word translating τέκτων) but a caementarius, which can be a stone-cutter but also a worker in opus caementitium, a kind of concrete. For Jerome, Jesus himself clearly was no mason or stone-cutter but a carpenter. In Luke 16:3, Jesus takes it as selfevident that it is highly shameful to beg, and this attitude is shared as it seems by Jewish-Christians. 99 100 101

102

Graßl, op. cit. 712, who also has full documentation for the following remarks. Graßl, op. cit. 710. In my book on prophecy in the ancient world I have rather neglected to discuss this aspect, and it might deserve some more attention. Cf. on this text e.g. Klijn, Jewish-Christian Gospel Tradition, 88–90, and already Zahn, Geschichte des neutestamentlichen Kanons 2, 693; also Frey, Hilfe zur Selbständigkeit.

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Many questions remain open in our short survey of possible noncharismatic connections of the travelling lifestyle of Jesus. Other suggestions are possible as well. Might it e.g. be that Jesus’ devastatingly critical attitude towards scribes and Pharisees is a result of the discrediting of his father’s profession by at least some members of the elite? Sayings discrediting the am ha’aretz (‫)עם הארץ‬ are only known from later sources (as bPes 49ab), but they must have an early history (the term itself of course has also different meanings). This earlier history we can to some degree see e.g. in Sirach’s passages denigrating menial work as incompatible with Tora study, and most clearly in John 7:49 (ὁ ὄχλος οὗτος ὁ μὴ γινώσκων τὸν νόμον)? This is a very vague suggestion. As we do no longer see Jesus in any kind of opposition to Judaism, we still have to explain his extreme aggression against scribes and Pharisees. Once again we do not just ask for the theological content of this criticism, but how it might have originated. Did these groups have reservations about the travelling professions, as of course has been the rule in almost all conservative religious elites? So this article concludes with quite a large bundle of interrelated questions. Might it be possible that Jesus never chose an itinerant lifestyle, but did what he had done for many years, following his father’s profession, and slowly became a preacher and an exorcist, perhaps experiencing his baptism as a vocational call, moving in an atmosphere of popular kingship, and perhaps re-interpreting and re-inventing his early life as a way conveying his prophetic message, and then also making use of his family’s genealogical legend (which he shared with many Jews) for an even higher ambition?

 

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Painter, J., Just James. The Brother of Jesus in History and Tradition. Minneapolis, Minn.: Fortress Press 1999. Perelló, C. F. A., Working as a Migrant in Roman Antiquity, in: I. Piro (ed.), Scritti per Alessandro Corbino, Vol. 1, Rome 2016, 1–10. Perelló, C. F. A., A Study of Labor and Migrations in Antiquity, in: The International Journal of Interdisciplinary Global Studies 8–4 (2015), 17–25. Prellwitz, W., Die Telchinen, in: Beiträge zur Kunde der indogermanischen Sprachen 15 (1889), 148– 154. Pieper, W., Der Pariastamm der Ṣlêb, in: Le Monde oriental 17/1 (1923), 1–75. Poland, F., Geschichte des griechischen Vereinswesens, 2 vols., Leipzig 1909. Ruffing, K., Die berufliche Spezialisierung in Handel und Handwerk. Untersuchungen zu ihrer Entwicklung und zu ihren Bedingungen in der römischen Kaiserzeit im östlichen Mittelmeerraum auf der Grundlage griechischer Inschriften und Papyri, 2 vols. (Pharos 24), Leidorf, Rahden 2008. Ruffing, K., Wirtschaft in der griechisch-römischen Antike, Darmstadt 2012. Ruffing, K., Schriftlichkeit und Wirtschaft im Römischen Reich, in: A. Kolb (ed.), Literacy in Ancient Everyday Life, Berlin – München – Boston 2018, 221–236. Ruffing, K., Die regionale Mobilität von Händlern und Handwerkern nach den griechischen Inschriften, in: E. Olshausen/H. Sonnabend (ed.), „Troianer sind wir gewesen“ – Migrationen in der antiken Welt (Geographica Historica 21), Stuttgart 2006, 133–140. Ringgren, H., Hamp, V,, Art. ḫārāš I, in: ThWAT 3 (1982), 234–238. Ruge, W., Art. Chalybes 1) and 2), in: RE III/2 (1899=1970), 2099. Rostovtzeff, M., The Social and Economic History of the Hellenistic World, 3 vols., Oxford 1941. Reissued 1986. Safrai, Z., The Economy of Roman Palestine, London 1994. Shaked, S., Ford, J. N., Bhayro, S., Aramaic Bowl Spells. Jewish Babylonian Aramaic Bowls, Vol. I, Leiden/Boston 2013. Söding, T., Glaube bei Markus. Glaube an das Evangelium, Gebetsglaube und Wunderglaube im Kontext der markinischen Basileiatheologie und Christologie (SBB 12), Stuttgart 1985. Speyer, W., Art. Holz, in: RAC 16 (1994), 87–116. Theißen, G., Jesus als historische Gestalt. Beiträge zur Jesusforschung (FRLANT 202), Göttingen 2003. Theißen, G., Studien zur Soziologie des Urchristentums (WUNT 19), Tübingen 31989. Theißen, G., Die Entstehung des Neuen Testaments als literaturgeschichtliches Problem, Heidelberg 2 2011. Tiwald, M., Wanderradikalismus. Jesu erste Jünger – ein Anfang und was davon bleibt (ÖBS 20), Frankfurt 2002. Tiwald, M., Kommentar zur Logienquelle, Stuttgart 2019. Verheyden, J., Jesus als Wanderprediger, in: J. Schröter; C. Jacobi (ed.), Jesus Handbuch, Tübingen 2017, 262–272. Vermes, G., Jesus the Jew. A Historian’s Reading of the Gospels, Minneapolis, Minn. 1973, 21983. Vogel, M., Onos Lyras. Der Esel mit der Leier, 2 vols. (Orpheus 13), Düsseldorf 1973. Weber, M., Die Wirtschaftsethik der Weltreligionen, 2. Das Judentum, O. Eckart (ed.), Tübingen 2005 (Max-Weber Gesamtausgabe I/21, 2). Wick, P.; Rabens, V. (ed.), Religions and Trade: Religious Formation, Transformation, and Crosscultural Exchange between East and West, Leiden 2014. Wolter, M., Jesus von Nazareth, Göttingen 2019. Zahn, T., Geschichte des neutestamentlichen Kanons 2, 1. und 2. Hälfte, Erlangen, Leipzig 1890–1892 (Reprint Hildesheim 1975).

 

Where Are All the Women in Q Studies?: Gender Demographics and the Study of Q1 Sarah E. Rollens

1.

Introduction

At the Society of Biblical Literature Annual Meeting in 2014, I presented a paper in the Open Session of the Q Unit.2 Another woman scholar, Robyn Faith Walsh, also gave a paper in that session.3 The session went well, and all panelists received positive, constructive feedback, even though, as is the case in most open sessions, the topics of our papers varied widely. The content of the papers is not my concern here, however; instead, the optics of that session are and, in particular, the fact that there were two women on a panel of four scholars. Such a gender-balanced panel is rare in Q scholarship. I later discovered that New Testament scholar Mark Goodacre had been so shocked to encounter a session in which two women were speaking about Q, that he actually wondered if he was in the correct room. He took to Twitter to highlight this moment: “Pleasant surprise to see not one but two women speaking in the Q section today! Thought I was in the wrong room.”4 This observation about the gender balance of the panel, especially in comparison to the typical makeup of Q panels, is apt. The comment, moreover, reflects how attention to gender dynamics5 is becoming increasingly common in academia.

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The title of this paper is inspired by the recent essay by Susannah Heschel and Sarah Imhoff entitled “Where Are All the Women in Jewish Studies?” Rollens, Reflections on Q and Scribalism; this paper was later published as: Rollens, Why We Have Failed to Theorize Scribes in Antiquity. Walsh, Q and the ‘Big Bang Theory’ of Christian Origins. Goodacre (@goodacre), “Pleasant surprise to see not one but two women speaking in the Q section today! Thought I was in the wrong room. #sblaar #sblaar14,” Tweet, November 23, 2014, https://twitter.com/goodacre/status/536569133861593089. Other expressions of diversity are absent as well: ethnic background, racial identification, sexual orientation, geographical origin, socio-economic status, and other forms of diversity that academics are becoming increasingly attuned to. The notion of representation needs to be paired with academic expertise, of course; the aim is not to include diverse voices just to check boxes. Admittedly, each of these important dimensions merits a separate discussion, of course, but here, we only focus on gender dynamics.

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Though gender imbalance in academia is widespread, it seems to be particularly pervasive in Q scholarship. Indeed, in comparison with, say, the study of martyrdom in early Christianity, the absence of women scholars in Q studies is striking.6 This paper will thus explore the curious question: “Where are all the women in Q studies?” It will begin by examining scholarship on Q to survey the few relatively numbers of women scholars who are writing or have written on Q, looking in particular at the kinds of topics that they analyze when they do work on Q. The analysis will contextualize this state of affairs in Q scholarship within the wider issues of gender representation in academia, the formation of scholarly networks, and what I call the “inertia of inequality,” before it turns to the terrain of Q studies itself to see what might account for the paucity of women scholars there. The analysis offers few solutions, but rather highlights the extent of the problem and how the resulting landscape of scholarship cannot help but be distorted by this situation.

2.

The Lack of Women Scholars Working on Q

We may begin by exposing the apparent problem, that there do not seem to be many female scholars who work on Q.7 This has been perennial problem for me and my co-chairs of the Q unit of the Society of Biblical Literature (and likely for the unit chairs who preceded me). This essay contains an appendix that lists all the women scholars who could be considered “Q scholars” or who have worked on Q in some substantial sense. This bibliography takes a global perspective, and has been extremely generous (perhaps too generous) with the classification of “Q scholar,” including some scholars who work on, for instance, a unit in Matthew that ultimately derives from Q, even if the scholar herself does not frame it as a Q unit. I sought input from my colleagues to be as inclusive as possible, but I no doubt overlooked some.8 Even so, the resulting bibliography is shorter than 6

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Some of the foundational studies dealing with early Christian martyrdom and suffering have been written by women: Moss, The Myth of Persecution; Moss, Ancient Christian Martyrdom; Castelli, Martyrdom and Memory; Cobb, Divine Deliverance; Perkins, The Suffering Self. A note on the terminology of “women” versus that of “female” in this essay: I tend to prefer the terminology of “women scholars” to “female scholars.” The primary reason for this is that the former is about identity claims, while the latter tends to be used more for biological attributes. Moreover, the toxic “incel” community on the internet has recently co-opted the noun “female” as a way to objectify women as little more than reproductive vessels. When I do opt for “female,” it is always in the adjectival form and is simply used to differentiate the noun from its male (or other) counterparts. Special thanks to John S. Kloppenborg, Daniel A. Smith, and Christoph Heil for their suggestions. Heartfelt apologies to anyone whose work was overlooked.

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it should be, given that studies on the Synoptic Problem and Q make up some of the foundational work in the study of Early Christianity, especially in comparison to newly vogue topics such as affect theory, postcolonial theory, or race/ethnicity studies in Early Christianity. A bibliography of men who have produced Q scholarship would be significantly larger, perhaps impossible to assemble at all. Since the bibliography of women Q scholars is a relatively small (and manageable), it is possible to subject it to analysis to see if any trends emerge. In this section, then, I will draw out some of the characteristics of this body of scholarship, before discussing one of its most outstanding features in the next section. By my count, women scholars have produced 101 publications related to the Sayings Source Q. Of these publications, only 14 are single-author monographs, though not all of these, such as Celia Deutsch’s book on Matthew 11:25–30, are explicitly framed as “Q scholarship.” Six of these publications are doctoral dissertations, and in some cases, the author never produced anymore work on Q. Some scholars, such as myself or Luise Schottroff, have contributed more than five on our own. In fact, when one counts by author instead of by publication, we observe that there are only 50 individual authors who have produced these 101 publications. Many of the publications, especially those in anthologies and other collections, derive from collaborative projects initiated by other scholars, as the proceedings of this conference will also be. This is a crucial site of intellectual production to consider, because many of these collaborative projects rely on scholarly networks, which can be especially plagued by lack of representation of various sorts, to which I will return below. To preempt my later points: small conferences, anthologies, and special issues of journals are often problematic when it comes to diversity, because these collaborative projects build on socialacademic networks that are already in place, and by doing so, often unintentionally replicate the lack of representation in biblical studies that has long existed. Yet the flip-side of this form of publication is that many of the publications that women Q scholars have produced have found homes in these collaborative venues.9 As my own publication record attests, I still find great value in these collective projects, though I acknowledge that many of them do reproduce scholarly networks that already exist. Returning to the bibliography: publications that have appeared in peerreviewed journals amount to 33, though I am not certain that all of them are blind-reviewed. In isolation, this is a fairly impressive statistic: one in three of the works authored by women Q scholars has passed the cherished peer-review 9

At the same time, many have rightly questioned the need, utility, and quality of edited volumes. Regardless of the rigor with which they are produced, some have observed that publishing one’s work in an anthology essentially amounts to “burying your work” (Anderson, Bury Your Writing).

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process that we all invest so much authority in. However, when we compare the raw numbers to some of the male scholars who have written on Q, it is still extremely low. For example, Simon Joseph, who has written extensively on Q, has single-handedly written eight peer-reviewed articles on Q.10 The works in the bibliography tend to be produced by English-speaking scholars, though German scholarship is well represented. This reflects a wider trend among New Testament scholarship, indebted as it is to its origins among German Protestant academics. In short, the bibliography is reasonably broad, but overall sparse, which demands explanation. Before unraveling the various strands of that explanation, we should consider one outstanding feature of this bibliography: how many women have written about other women.

3.

A Safe Space: Women Talking about Women

One of the more eyebrow-raising trends that emerges from the bibliography of women Q scholars is how many of them have written about the topic of women in relation to Q. These topics can range from whether there were actually women in the Q community, to whether the message of salvation in the text is egalitarian, to how Q’s theology can be used by modern Christians to understand the ideal roles of women. Let me be clear: there is nothing a priori wrong with examining either the representation of women within ancient texts or the ways in which people have used religious texts throughout history to conceptualize women’s roles in society. These are all legitimate lines of inquiry (though the proscriptive ones are not always appropriate for academic settings). What troubles me, rather, is that I suspect women do not always write about women due to circumstances that are of their own making. There are structural and individual pressures that lead to situations in which they are simply more likely to do this sort of research. Among other reasons, they write about women because attention to them has been startlingly absent and they believe that if they do not study this topic, then no one (i.e., no men) will.11 Regardless of the reason, the prevalence of “women writing about women” has become far too commonplace and distorts the scholarship that a discipline produces.12 10 11

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Joseph, ARTICLES. And now I find myself in the same boat, even though I am not an expert on gender constructions, whether today or in the ancient world. However, I do study discourse, which is the object of my study here: how certain groups of people produce discourse and why it takes the shape that it does. In exploring the underrepresentation of women in the study of Islam, Kecia Ali shares an anecdote of being involved in a conference on Jewish and Muslim religious leaders in New York. One of the questions from the audience involved gender and scriptural authority,

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With this theme in view, we can return to the attached Q bibliography and make some more observations. Out of the 101 publications listed, 16 are publications that are, in some way, about women in Q.13 Stated in this way, it is not especially problematic; it simply means that 15.8% of the total publications that women Q scholars produce are related to the topic of women. But when we frame it based on the raw number of scholars who are participating, something more troubling emerges: sixteen “women-related” publications have been produced by 50 women scholars, which yields a figure of 31.6%. This means, put crudely, that all things being equal, if you encounter a women Q scholar, there is a one in three chance that she has written about the topic of women and Q. I do not quite know the reason for this. On one hand, women speaking and writing on things related to women has historically been the first point of access that female scholars have had in certain disciplines. Many women scholars have been included in projects, because their distinct perspective has been valued and seen to fill the void of missing or hitherto “hidden” voice. This kind of incremental, albeit slow, inclusion is often the result of acknowledging and trying to correct various biases in ostensibly “objective” scholarship. But there is a darker side to this inclusion as well. Women writing about women has traditionally been the only safe space for women to cultivate scholarly authority.14 Women are seen – both by male and other female scholars – to have a unique insight into a gendered experience that men cannot hope to understand, which mirrors a long-standing cultural (and absurd) trend of men being mystified by experiences, emotions, and thoughts of women. The assumption that women can innately know “woman topics” better than male scholars is, of course, ridiculous in all sorts of ways.15 But it is surprising how many “enlightened” academics carry around this latent assumption. To

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and Ali notes parenthetically that she had deliberately opted to not speak on such a topic for her formal presentation, because “I didn’t want to be a woman known for always talking about women.” (Ali, The Omnipresent Male Scholar.) I notice that several of the publications also concern children in Q. This is a topic that has traditionally been relegated to a “women’s topic” as well, but for the simplicity of this analysis, I am focusing only on publications that explicitly engage with the topic of women and Q. Were we to include the articles dealing with family or children, the statistic rises to 20 publications. Randi Warne refers to working in this safe space as cultivating an “expertise at the margins,” by engaging with material that “no self-respecting white man would touch” ([En]gendering Religious Studies, 434–35). For the record, I am against the view that identities and experiences can be understood only by people who inhabit them. I am confident in the communicative capacity of language and in the concepts engendered by critical theory to help us understand what it is like to live other lives without directly experiencing them. The assumption that we can only understand what one has directly experienced also threatens to undermine the entire academic study of religion, built as it is on its need to differentiate itself from theology that privileges the insider’s perspective.

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illustrate, I can offer a personal anecdote. A few years ago, I was present during the discussion of a paper in a seminar setting, and I was seated next to other women scholars. A male scholar (who was open-minded, progressive, liberal, etc.) was musing about a point that had come up in the paper presentation; the point concerned ancient purity practices related to menstruation. The male scholar knew little about the topic – and for the record, neither did I or the other female scholars, because this was not our area of research – yet he nevertheless, after admirably admitting his lack of knowledge, turned to us women and said, “I really don’t know, but do you ladies know anything about these practices?” Despite having the requisite genitalia, we did not know. My hunch is that no one would assume that men are better authorities on practices such as ancient circumcision simply because they have the actual genitalia involved in the activity. His assumption conflates a scholar’s mastery of a topic, in this case, historical knowledge of gendered ritual practice, with their personal experience in a historically situated body. Stated thus, we would never confuse the two matters, but unarticulated (as they were in this scholar’s comments), they are easily fused. Women’s research on the topic of women can, just like any other topic in our discipline, involve rigorous textual work, archival research, or engagement with material culture. But unfortunately, “women writing about women” has often been perceived as a “soft” topic, a safe space, and for some, a bit of a joke in comparison to more rigorous scholarship that men have tended to carry out (the mainstays of textual criticism, historical criticism, and the like). The above anecdote implicitly assumes that gender-specific scholarship is somehow less rigorous, because women can innately “know” it based on their biology and do not need to spend years studying and training to acquire this knowledge. These ostensibly soft or less intellectually rigorous topics are frequently set apart from the supposedly more demanding historical-critical method. Sara Parks has recently argued that historical-critical scholarship has traditionally been regarded as the default in biblical studies and that what does not confirm historical criticism and the like has been treated as suspect or “niche.”16 This privileges a certain form of scholarship that has been historically dominated by male scholars, and implicitly undermines different approaches, with which, it is crucial to note, women scholars have traditionally been encouraged to work. The underlying assumption is that historical-critical scholarship is the “unbiased” approach and that all other methods are “niche,” because they adopt tendentious or ideologically tainted perspectives. Parks concludes that this causes the research that women have traditionally done to be “sidelined and compartmentalized” and “treated as ancillary to what is considered primary

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Parks, Historical-Critical Ministry, 229–44.

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(that is, male-centered) topics and fields.”17 Luise Schottroff comments in a similar vein on the assumption that “traditional” methods are neutral or objective: “…[I]t is considered ‘scientific’ to adopt a supposed-posture of neutrality toward the object of research and to take no account of one’s context. This ‘neutrality’ conceals the patriarchal biases expressed by a theological discipline that imagines itself to be independent of its social context.”18 Thus, when an object of study, in this case Q, attracts a great deal of women writing about women, we can surmise that there are likely various ideological influences and assumptions that have led to this situation. In sum, women scholars have made valuable contributions to research on the Synoptic Problem and Q. It just seems peculiar that there are not more of them doing so, given the foundational import of this topic for many other topics in Christian origins scholarship. The reasons for this paucity of women are exceptionally complex, with multiple factors that need to be disentangled. Having thus mapped the curious terrain of women’s participation in Q studies, we can now turn to seeing how this aligns with broader trends in the academic world.

4.

The Big Picture: Issues of Gender Representation in Academia

The unfortunate lack of gender representation is not unique to Q studies, biblical studies, or even the study of religion. Part of the explanation for the lack of women in Q studies, therefore, involves considering gender representation in religious studies and theology, indeed in academia as a whole. I will first discuss the pervasiveness of this before circling back to discuss particular issues in Q studies. Many of my comments concern higher education in the United States, for it is the terrain with which I am most familiar, but North America and Western Europe have much in common when it comes to the following matters. In each state in the United States, women make up just slightly over half of the population.19 According to the U.S. Department of Education, more women 17

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Parks, Historical-Critical Ministry, 239. Somewhat differently, Warne observes, “[T]he academy has been constructed exclusively out of the world-as-taken-for-granted by men, [and] women who articulate their different experience and understanding of that life (both intellectual and social) are deemed either ‘heretics’ (those with wrong belief) or ‘pagans’ (those with no belief). The result in either case is to dismissing and/or discredit all articulations and experiences which do not fit the pattern established by the dominant group” ([En]gendering Religious Studies, 433). Schottroff, The Sayings Source Q, 511. Population Distribution by Gender, The Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation.

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are (and have been) pursuing higher education than men for many years now.20 Accordingly, more women are earning Ph.Ds than ever before, and there has been an especially strong push to get more women involved in fields such as S.T.E.M. (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Math), in order to tap the greatest potential of young thinkers.21 Early Christian studies has seen a refreshing rise of female scholars, with women occupying (or having recently occupied) some of the most prestigious named chairs in North America: Elaine Pagels at Princeton University; Karen King and Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza at Harvard Divinity School; Ross Kraemer at Brown University; Kim Haines-Eitzen at Cornell University; and Laura Nasrallah at Yale Divinity School (previously Harvard Divinity School). Suffice it to say that more women are entering the study of religion, the academic study of ancient Mediterranean religions, and the study of early Christianity than ever before. Yet biblical studies still routinely sees edited volumes, journal issues, and conference panels made up entirely of men. On social media, the constancy of such products are now the target of both critique and mocking, with female scholars and their allies regularly contacting the producers of such collections and panels to ask them to account for their lack of representation. As part of the process of calling into question the normalcy of these unrepresentative projects, social media has generated a series of nicknames to rebrand these ostensibly neutral projects for the gender-biased projects that they really are: “manel” instead of panel; “himposium” instead of symposium; “manthology” instead of anthology; “manference” instead of conference; and even the slightly crass “Festicle” instead of Festschift.22 Regardless of intent, such scholarly products are, at best, the results of organizers and editors who have not given much thought to gender representation, the optics of their project, or the need to diversify the perspectives on the topic. At worst, they reflect some scholars’ presumptions that the work of women scholars is less rigorous, concerns only niche topics, or is not otherwise important enough to be included. There is beginning to be some resistance to the status quo, as well as more deliberate efforts to transform academia into a more inclusive space. Like all successful revolutions, resistance and transformation are most effective when they come from people who already wield some power. For instance, I recently witnessed a male scholar respectfully withdraw from a prestigious, invitationonly conference (to which we had both been invited, though I was the only woman scholar), so that the financial resources that had been allocated toward him could be put toward inviting equally qualified women and thus creating a 20 21

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Marcus, Why Men Are the New Minority in College. Whiting, Women Were Awarded More PhDs in the US than Men Last Year; Perry, Women Earned Majority of Doctoral Degrees. “@theTable: ‘Manthologies’; Benjamin, On the Uses of Academic Privilege, Belluck, N.I.H. Head Calls for End to All-Male Panels of Scientists; Ali, No Manthology Is An Island; Cargill, The Gender Divine.

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more gender equitable conference.23 Other allies are refusing to take part in anthologies or be on editorial boards that have not made reasonable efforts to diversify. The director of the National Institutes of Health, Dr. Francis S. Collins, recently issued a statement titled “Time to End the Manel Tradition,” wherein he announced that he “would no longer speak at conferences that do not show a strong commitment to diversifying the makeup of their panelists.”24 From their side, conference organizers and editors of collected works are trying to correct this situation, as well. In some cases, however, the effort to diversify participants is undertaken only to stymie the criticism that one will no doubt receive. This often leads to situations of tokenism, where a minority scholar is invited to participate so that the organizers can deflect the criticism that they have not selected a diverse enough group of scholars. While some still argue that efforts of tokenism are at least a step in the right direction,25 including a token woman in a conference, as many are starting to realize, accomplishes very little in the overall scheme of things. I write this as someone who has been my own token woman numerous times on panels that I myself have organized. What’s more, I have presided over sessions where men are the only speakers, solely because my presence was needed “for optics.”

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To offer another example, Susannah Heschel describes her typical reply to an invitation to a collaborative project that does not appear to be reasonably diverse: “When invited, I will not give a paper when I am the only woman on the conference program, or one of a small minority of women included in an edited volume. I suggest the names of women colleagues, especially younger ones, as contributors who might be invited as conference speakers or authors in collected volumes. I make sure to ask questions and encourage other women attending lectures to do so. At seminars around a table, I make sure that I and other women take seats up front, and I interject in a discussion if a woman’s question is not being treated with respect. At conferences, I invite younger female colleagues and graduate students to have meals and coffee, to help them feel integrated into the community of scholars” (Heschel, Women in Jewish Studies). As cited in Belluck, N.I.H. Head Calls for End to All-Male Panels of Scientists. Even the American Academy of Religion has made a public statement acknowledging the structural inequality of the field when it comes to gender. The statement was initiated at the behest of another statement presented by AAR Student Director Rachel Toombs, who spoke about gender inequality and harassment on a panel about the #metoo’s movement’s implications for academia. The AAR responded formally to recognize the group’s concerns and explicitly stated that they “acknowledge the imbalance of power and privilege that make up so much of our educational system” (Statement in Response to Graduate Students). The acknowledgment of the structural inequality in academia, as well as the challenges and dangers that women and non-binary people have faced, has also led to a number of grassroots initiatives, such as the publication and dissemination of lists of known sexual harassers in certain disciplines (Goldstone and Goldstone, Scientist Publishes A List Of Known Harassers in Academia) and the creation of a website that tracks gender imbalance of speakers in a sub-discipline of the sciences (Biaswatchneuro). Joseph, It’s Not That Easy. Joseph, It’s Not That Easy.

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Tokenism on a panel made up of only a few people is one thing, for gender balance on such a small scale is admittedly difficult to achieve. But tokenism at the level of a larger conference or collection of scholarship is quite another. At this higher level, such tokenism does a disservice to the discipline. For one, a token representation merely calls attention to the inequality and advertises that the conference could find only a sole voice to represent diversity. The issue of not wanting to appear to engage in tokenism leads to unanticipated problems as well. Since no one wants to appear as if they are only allocating cursory attention to gender inequality, it is easy to postpone it until it can be thoroughly addressed. Indeed, Kecia Ali observes the “insistence that the topic of women is too important to be dealt with briefly can serve to defer it continually.”26 Thus, the status quo remains in place. Moreover, the effort to deliberately and visibly include attention to women sometimes makes it appear as though the inclusion was an afterthought. Here I am reminded of recently rereading G. E. M. de Ste. Croix’s impressive tome The Class Struggle in the Ancient Greek World. In chapter 2, wherein he describes the class structure of antique society, he includes a special section (11.5 pages out of a 732-page book) entitled “Women” at the end of the chapter. The discussion amounts to a brief, mostly accurate discussion of why women do not “count” in the same way as men in the antique class structure: they are not public figures in the same way as men, they are not property holders as frequently as men, and the law often treated them as an extension of their husband, at best, or property of their husband, at worst. He closes this section with what can only be deemed a snide remark aimed at “feminists who complain”: “I trust that this section will serve to exculpate me from any crime I may have committed in the eyes of feminists by sometimes speaking of the slave, serf, peasant etc. as a ‘he’ rather than a ‘he/she’ (or ‘s/he’).”27 Not only is this an example of tokenism in terms of content (i.e., the topic of women is visibly included, albeit awkwardly shoehorned in at the end), but it is also clearly and unapologetically framed as an afterthought before which de Ste. Croix had engaged in his “regular” analysis. Ali notes a similar relegation/dismissal in an influential book by Mohammed Arkoun, who apologizes for not being able to speak more substantially about women in his Rethinking Islam: Common Questions, Uncommon Answers. “He blames limitations of space,” she observes, “The chapter ‘Women’ stretches over four pages. The chapter ‘The Person’ occupies twenty. There is no chapter on men.”28 This sort of “inclusion” is what Randi Warne means when she observes that “‘you cannot just add women and stir.’ That is…devote a special page, or section

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Ali, The Omnipresent Male Scholar. de Ste. Croix, The Class Struggle in the Ancient Greek World, 111. Ali, The Omnipresent Male Scholar.

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or chapter to ‘Women’ and expect to have addressed the problem of exclusion of women from prior scholarship.”29 Finally: token participation often accomplishes very little in the greater scheme of things.30 Put differently, a single representation of diversity in a group is often statistically insignificant. In assessing how unconscious bias works in job hiring, the Harvard Business Review recently featured a study that found that if a job candidate pool included only one woman, there was “statistically no chance” that she would be hired.31 Extrapolated to gender diversity in the humanities, we might surmise that a token women (or any other minority) being represented in a group is simply not enough to affect the unconscious bias in favor of the predominance of men’s voices and their authority on a particular topic.

5.

The Politics of Academic Networks and the Inertia of Inequality

Much of the gender imbalance in academia can be traced to the dynamics of academic networks and what I will call the “inertia of inequality.” Academic networks are powerful phenomena, but they are also a double-edged sword. One “edge” of the sword is that academic networks are an important way that junior scholars are introduced to their fields. They are how emerging scholars get invited to smaller conferences such as this and have opportunities to present their work to established scholars. Academic networks are also the way that people learn about new, innovative work and hear about up-and-coming scholars. But, the other “edge” of the sword is their power of exclusion: academic networks are social networks, which are by no means neutral phenomena; and they often embody all the unintentional biases that other social networks do. Put succinctly, the all-male scholarly products discussed earlier are “a network problem.”32 The most problematic aspect of academic networks is that they are a function of power, the power to say whose scholarship counts and whose can be ignored, the power to initiate scholarly projects, to have them recognized as important or beneficial to the discipline, and to mobilize institutional resources to support them. Networks, as Kecia Ali states, “don’t merely collect; they 29 30

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Warne, (En)Gendering Religious Studies, 427–36. The flip-side of tokenism is “re-envisioning …[a] topic in a way that actually represent[s] the scholarship of a diverse audience” (Raucher, Even the Allies Are Misogynist), which often requires significantly more work. At the very least, “inclusion begins by thinking about how a project is framed” (Ali, No Manthology Is An Island). Johnson, Hekman, and Chan, If There’s Only One Woman. Imhoff, 404 Women Not Found Error.

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select.”33 This means that some scholarship, for a multiplicity of reasons, is simply not visible to those with decision-making power in academic networks.34 One reason is that academic networks are often unintentionally constructed on the basis of unconscious assumptions about what “real” or “legitimate” scholarship in a particular area should look like.35 For some people, this essay, concerned as it is with meta criticism of the discipline, is not “real” scholarship on Q, because it is not rigorously text critical, it has not engaged with a body of traditional secondary scholarship on the topic, and does address many of the traditional, “regular,” questions that are usually asked about Q (i.e., questions about the original form and extent of the document, questions about its theological ideas, or questions about its authorship and audience). Academic networks often reflect a group of people who acknowledge each other’s work as being important or necessary to a discipline, and in this sense, they are always tendentious enterprises that “reinforce the cultural hegemony of a particular population.”36 In a very real way, then, academic networks affect who is seen in a particular field. Historically, women scholars have been in a position to be seen by established male scholars, as opposed to being in positions to do the seeing and selecting. This means that the lack of women in a particular field is, in part, a function of their invisibility to people in power. Expanding academic networks is challenging, because often the impetus to transform them comes at the behest of criticism. When all-male panels, anthologies, journal issues, and the like are criticized for their lack of representtation, the responses are often frustratingly predictable. One timeless refrain seems to be: “There are no women working in this area.”37 This might be (partially) true, but such an observation should not be end of the discussion. It is important to realize, first, that the lack of women is a product of the “inertia of inequality.” Stated simply, the inertia of inequality is the tendency for underrepresentation to carry over into subsequent generations because people assume that women’s absence is the status quo: there were no women researching on a particular topic – and if we go back far enough, this was the case in 33 34

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Ali, No Manthology Is An Island. This situation renders some scholars and scholarship akin to what critical theorists would call “subaltern” – literally beyond the network of power altogether. This is not a precise analogy, since by virtue of creating academic scholarship, the producers are, on a global scale, already in a relatively elite group. It is worth observing that sometimes the policing of the status quo adopts vague or unquantifiable monikers in order to maintain a certain inertia. For instance, sometimes scholarship (or even a scholar’s personality itself) are discussed in terms of “fit,” that is, does a topic “fit” with the other topics or would a scholar be a good “fit” for a particular department (Leifer et al., Let’s Face It). Such language occludes many forms of individual and structural bias. See also, Russ, How to Suppress Women’s Writing. Warne, (En)gendering Religious Studies, 434. Benjamin, On the Uses of Academic Privilege; Joseph, It’s Not That Easy; Imhoff, 404 Women Not Found Error.

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nearly all disciplines – so scholars (both men and women) assume there are no women currently working on this topic and thus they do not look for them – and the cycle perpetuates itself. Moreover, their absence, if real and not merely assumed, does not mean that women are incapable of carrying out research in this area; it just means that in the relatively short history of critical study of the Bible, there have not yet been women who have found opportunities to work on this specific topic. Finally, if “there are no women working on this topic,” then maybe someone should step back and ask why: what set of circumstances and institutional structures led to such a situation where this topic does not reflect the gender diversity of the broader social context? In order to expose the mechanisms that lead to women’s absence, Sarah Imhoff plays out a typical scenario in which an academic networks reproduce gender bias, and I will quote her provocative scenario at length: Let’s imagine a male scholar who wants to put together a scholarly anthology…. How does our…anthology editor decide whom to invite to contribute chapters to his anthology? He invites people who are in his scholarly networks. These scholarly networks include people with whom he went to graduate school, people he has worked with at various institutions, people with whom he has spoken on conference panels, people with whom he has served on committees or boards, people with whom he has corresponded about research…. He wants scholars who are experts, and he may also value name recognition…. [But] our editor can only ask people whose work he knows; no one can ask someone they don’t know about. Gender matters in both personal and business networks, and men are more likely to network with men.… Studies also suggest that men network more “effectively,” that is they are more likely to reap professional benefits from their networks, in part because they are more likely to ask for things that benefit them. So our male editor’s network likely contains more men than it does women, and women in his networks will be less likely to assert themselves in asking for inclusion in such a volume.38

Curiously, it does not often occur to editors and organizers that women scholars can be asked to do something that is not strictly in “their area.” It is a bit like being type-cast in the entertainment world, only this time, a woman scholar becomes “known” for a certain type of scholarship and others assume that she cannot or will not research outside of that area. On the other hand, it is routine for a male scholar to be asked to write outside of his narrowly construed area of expertise, on the assumption that he will bring the same analytical skill to any topic that he is assigned. These invitations provide opportunities for men to broaden their areas of expertise and to thus make themselves relevant to more areas of scholarship. Let us briefly consider the example of one male scholar, the widely published Bart D. Ehrman. As most know, Ehrman was trained in rigorous textual criticism of New Testament manuscripts;39 yet despite this training, he

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Imhoff, 404 Women Not Found Error. Ehrman, The Orthodox Corruption of Scripture.

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has managed to have his work taken seriously40 in historical Jesus scholarship,41 in apocryphal gospel scholarship,42 and even somehow, now, in scholarship on the philosophical problem of evil.43 These opportunities are no doubt due in part to intellectual merit, that is, his ability to acquire various forms of expertise in new areas and to write in a manner that is accessible and entertaining, especially to non-specialists. But I note that biblical studies contains few women who are assumed to be such broadly conceived “experts” and who are taken seriously outside of their area of specialization. Rather, when it comes to women scholars, if their myopically focused research does not closely match the topic of the panel or anthology, it serves as an excuse to exclude them from participation. Another common excuse that organizers give in response to criticism is that “All the women we asked said no.” Or, its variation, “We did ask women, but they withdrew at the last minute.”44 This one is especially challenging to navigate, because it frequently results when women are already overburdened with other commitments, a likely state of affairs when more and more editors and organizers are reaching out to them for their participation. This is especially the case with senior women scholars. Continuing with her thought-experiment, Imhoff writes, “Our editor may think to ask the same very small set of senior women who, because of their rich publishing records, well-known scholarship, and visible service to the profession…are thus already overburdened.”45 Robert Cargill, who as editor-in-chief of Biblical Archaeology Review has recently devoted a double-issue to women’s scholarship, concludes that an editor just might have to work harder to achieve gender diversity: [W]omen scholars are overcommitted…[they] reserve the right to decline our invitations. Women are not obligated to compensate for centuries of marginalization by committing to every invitation…. Scholarship is not stunt riding, and editors are not Evel Knievel; we shouldn’t be credited simply for the attempt even if we fail. We cannot define ‘due diligence’ as inviting an acceptable quota of women to participate. The bar must be higher than that.46

Similarly, others suggest it might be necessary to invite twice as many women scholars at the outset of a project, on the assumption that many will decline due to overcommitment.47 For Mara Benjamin, if too many women decline, though, it should be taken as a sign: “We are uninterested in hearing I asked many women 40

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By “taken seriously,” I only mean that his work has been engaged with by other reputable scholars, not that he has necessarily produced the most definitive or widely accepted scholarship on the topic. Ehrman, Jesus. Ehrman, The Lost Gospel of Judas Iscariot. Ehrman, God’s Problem. Joseph, It’s Not That Easy. Imhoff, 404 Women Not Found Error. Cargill, The Gender Divide. Joseph, It’s Not That Easy.

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but they all declined. If your volumes aren’t representative, they are not worth publishing.”48 The subtle implication in Imhoff’s thought-experiment is that if one’s academic network does not intersect with enough qualified women, perhaps the network itself is the problem. There are several collaborative projects that have been initiated to help academics expand their networks, highlighting women in particular areas of scholarship: “Women Also Know History,”49 “Request a Women Scientist,”50 and relevant to biblical studies especially both “Women Biblical Scholars”51 and “Women of Ancient History,”52 the latter of which contains a special subset of women scholars of Christianity/Judaism. “ The frustratingly slow process of diversification is no surprise to many. Ayesha Chaudry acknowledges that “universities as a whole are often also backward looking, conservative bastions, protectors of the status quo, where conversations are stuck decades behind the evolving social issues at hand, just barely catching up to current political and social developments, rather than predicting and leading them.”53 They reward scholarly activity that fits into predetermined measures of excellence and that follows traditional methods for producing such scholars. It is thus challenging to propose new structural arrangements to achieve a more gender-balanced representation, just as it is challenging to admit that one’s academic networks might not be diverse. And up until recently, there was no reward for changing one’s modus operandi when it came to collaborative scholarly products. Now, however, it is increasingly common to affirm that everyone benefits from scholarship that makes space for diverse voices and to prioritize efforts to achieve that space. The inertia of inequality creates a feedback loop of inequality. The loop is this: there are not many women working on a particular topic, so it becomes a truism that “there are no women” working in this area and consequently fewer women can envision themselves succeeding in the field. In the words of Parks, “a lack of representatives of people who look like one – whether disabled, women, non-white, etc. – in places of power subconsciously erodes one’s ability to imagine oneself in those places.”54 This lack of visibility of women scholars, at the very least, creates an extra burden for women to overcome. Mika Ahuvia reflects on this state of affairs in the study of ancient Judaism: “As Gloria Steinem notes in a recent book, it is no wonder women become less confident the more educated they are; they are studying their own absence.... It is jarring to hear a

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Benjamin, On the Uses of Academic Privilege. https://womenalsoknowhistory.com/. https://500womenscientists.org/request-a-scientist. https://womenbiblicalscholars.com/. http://woah.lib.uiowa.edu/. Chaudhry, Islamic Legal Studies. Parks, Historical-Critical Ministry.

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woman’s voice in the study of ancient Judaism.”55 If one is constantly perceived as an interloper or as a unique token of diversity, it is challenging to find a space of intellectual comfort in the discipline. Susannah Heschel and Sarah Imhoff posit that curious women will entertain questions that their male counterparts simply never had to when considering graduate work or a career in academia: “Women with an interest in entering the field will wonder: Will I be welcomed and mentored by the men who dominate the senior levels of the field? And if I bring innovative ideas and interpretations, will they be dismissed or treated with respect?”56 Having healthy diversity makes it possible for people to see themselves “fitting” in a certain academic space. To borrow the words of a recent campaign about the importance of representation in the entertainment industry: “If you can see her, you can be her.”57 And one unfortunate feature of Q studies so far, is that there have not always been women scholars to see.

6.

Specific Issues in the Terrain of Q Studies

Is there something unique about Q studies that has discouraged women from wanting to become involved? Through informal discussions with my peers and colleagues (admittedly, my own academic networks), it seems to be the general consensus that there is something more specific happening in Q studies that deters women from involvement. I will limit myself to two main points in this section. First, I suggest that there has been a narrowly construed notion of what “legitimate” Q scholarship, and indeed, what the prototypical Q scholar looks like. These constructs can implicitly discourage women from wanting to work on Q, as well as make it difficult for their research to get recognized by established Q scholars. Second, I want to briefly discuss how two well-known male scholars have shaped research on Q in the United States and may have (unintentionally) created institutional settings that were not conducive to women in academia. The goal is not to cast blame, but rather to see how certain scholars, their institutions, and their expectations create conditions within which others have to operate. These are very real influences, and we should not be afraid to bring them up for discussion merely because they involve individuals that many of us know or knew well. To begin with, the kind of research that has been traditionally valued in Q studies has been precisely the kind that male scholars have been socialized to carry out. There is an unstated “normative Q scholar” that many of us imagine when we set out to plan anthologies and conferences. That normative Q scholar 55 56 57

Ahuvia, Reading the Rabbis in the Age of #MeToo. Heschel and Imhoff, Where Are All The Women In Jewish Studies. Lafayette, Viacom Launches Campaign.

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is male, has likely been educated in a European or North American context, and takes a rigorous approach to Q that aligns with traditional methods of biblical criticism (whether textual reconstruction, redaction criticism, historical criticism, etc). We are all implicated in this normative construction: I, too, have been socialized to have this sort of authority/expertise in view when I think of “typical” Q scholars. Women scholars who want to work on Q emerge in this discipline waiting to be recognized by such traditional scholars. This recognition is often unintentionally biased in favor of this normative construction. Recognition, Kecia Ali observes, “assumes that someone in power is willing to recognize someone outside his (ethnic, scholarly, class, or gender) circle as an acceptable participant.”58 Women, moreover, in this and other disciplines, are also faced with a model of scholarship that entails mastering a certain body of literature produced almost solely by male scholars.59 Thus, women Q scholars are in the unfortunate position of constantly referring to a hegemonic canon of knowledge from which they have been traditionally been excluded. And even if some women scholars get their foot in the door, its authority only continues to perpetuate: “It is authoritative because it keeps referencing itself as authoritative.”60 This analysis has already commented on the inertia of inequality that is entrenched in many disciplines. There is also an inertia of “tradition” in any given discipline as well. Tradition here simply refers to “the way things are [or have been] done here.” When it comes to research on Q, the way things are typically done in Q studies – that is, the normative methodologies – orbit around reconstructing the text from Matthew and Luke, investigating Matthew and Luke’s redactional tendencies, examining the dominant theological ideas (i.e., the kingdom of God, christology, eschatological expectations, etc), and the like – what we might call rather conventional approaches to ancient religious texts. This has meant that an emerging scholar who wants to work on Q must frame their work with at least some reference to these conventional topics to be recognized. Chaudry explains the gatekeeping system with which most of us are familiar: The academy sets up mechanisms so that you are always at the mercy of your peers’ approval in order to advance, to progress, to be nominated for an award, to publish an article, to publish a book, you always need letters of reference, reviewers for your file. All of these mechanisms amount to regulations that maintain the status quo, that construct the kind of writing you can or cannot do, what you can or cannot say, what you can or cannot imagine.61

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Ali, The Omnipresent Male Scholar. This point is indebted to Chaudry’s observation about what constitutes expertise in Islamic legal studies: Chaudhry, Islamic Legal Studies, 11. Chaudhry, Islamic Legal Studies. Cf., King et al, Men Set Their Own Cites High. Chaudhry, Islamic Legal Studies, 31.

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The inertia of these traditional forms of Q scholarship suggests that radically new work or work that adopts different methodological approaches, which, as noted above, are the approaches women are often steered toward or where they are able to best cultivate authority, will have a hard time becoming established or recognized as anything more than eccentrically peripheral. There is also something about the content that Q scholarship has tended to focus on that might also discourage women from participating, or that might alienate them once they are involved. The kinds of “ideal research” in Q studies has usually been of the sort that has privileged statements of absoluteness instead of speculation and imagination and precision of argument (such as the precise reconstruction of Q sayings) instead of more open-ended, interpretative scholarship such as discourse analysis or literary criticism.62 To pick up some threads that were begun earlier in this paper, women scholars have been encouraged to engage with the more nebulous, open-ended forms of scholarship, while men have been socialized to produce and defend research based on precision and absoluteness.63 I want to underscore that the above paragraph is not saying that men and women innately or naturally excel at different kinds of topics. Arguments from biological determinism are too simplistic (or wrong altogether) and have oppressed women for centuries. Rather, I am suggesting that the kinds of work that women end up doing, for whatever reasons, are valued differently in academia and rely on different skills and habits that men and women have been encouraged to express. Men have been trained to argue with absoluteness, combativeness, and certainty, while women have been encouraged to be deferential, passive, and and wavering in their demeanor.64 The former characteristics have simply been esteemed far more within Q scholarship. 62

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From conversations with other scholars who discuss these topics, I have learned that Deutero-Pauline and Pastoral Epistles, as well as Pentateuch, scholarship bizarrely suffers from rampant gender inequality too. I would venture that this, too, is because the mode of scholarship in these areas has typically reflected what male scholars are encouraged to excel at (precision, combativeness about firm conclusions, inflexibility regarding the historical-critical method, etc). This is also a situation of theological authority. Traditionally, male voices have been assumed to be more authoritative in church settings. It is thus no surprise that they have more frequently been the ones to make claims related to absolute theological truth. While I do not cite any direct quotations from her essay, this point was inspired, in part, by Judith Taylor’s recent essay In the Toronto Star entitled “I’m a Woman Who Imitated the Swagger of an Entitled White Male – and It Got Results.” (Taylor, I’m a Woman Who Imitated the Swagger). Taylor, an associate professor of Sociology at the University of Toronto, carried an “experiment in affect” in which she imitated the demeanor of white male in positions of power, which involved refusing to negotiate with students about their work, holding firm when it came to deadlines, and refusing to be questioned about her positions. She writes that she has always valued a demeanor that was “deferential, inclusive, [and] transparent” when dealing with family, colleagues, and students. She was frustrated to learn that “these features are not often respected as signs of good

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These ideals about the prototypical Q scholar do not emerge ex nihilo, of course. With a discipline as small as Q studies, we can look closely at the institutional settings that have formed many Q scholars and created expectations for and assumptions about valuable Q research. The traditional hubs of Q scholarship in United States have been Claremont University and Harvard University/ Harvard Divinity School. At Claremont, there have been numerous scholars working on Q through the years, but the “giant” of the field, who influenced Q studies in vital ways and produced some of the foundational scholarship on the topic, was James M. Robinson, who held a position there from 1964–1999. It is not my intent speak ill of those who have passed, but I think we can be frank: Robinson was infamous for being an exceptionally demanding supervisor, expecting his students to put their graduate work for him above any other commitments that they might have had. The result was decades of Q scholarship that pushed the field forward in critical ways. However, it seems to me that the “ideal” Q scholar that Robinson fostered, whether he knew it or not, tended to be one that was modeled primarily on the (white) male scholar who enjoyed a certain amount of privilege, especially in his time as a graduate student. From speaking with several people who worked with Robinson, I have surmised that the prototypical graduate student was one who threw themselves tirelessly into the many projects that Robinson initiated. Robinson had a forceful personality with his subordinates, what we might now call an “alpha male” persona. If any of these graduate students had families, this overwhelming academic commitment had to be managed alongside their family obligations. For a man, it could be possible, for instance, for one’s spouse to take responsibility for childcare, while he spent days crafting a precise argument about the presence of a certain adverb in reconstructed Q. Since women are often tasked with being primary caregivers in families regardless of employment situations or their own educational interests, it might have been near impossible for a female graduate student to enjoy the same sort of freedom to pursue their studies without interruption. In other words, the model of academic work under Robinson was something that was most easily achieved by men scholars. Women certainly could and did excel in this context, but in some cases, their success meant modeling themselves on male prototypes and their social experiences. Graduate students in the U.S. could also turn to Harvard to work with Helmut Koester on Q research. Koester supervised all manner of research on Christian origins, and curiously, one might have expected there to have been more graduate students working with him on Q during a certain time period. While I am sure there are manifold reasons for this, it has recently come to light that Koester was known in certain circles for fostering abusive relationships with some of his subordinates. In her recent memoir, Why Religion? A Personal leadership” and adopting the leadership traits that men are socialized to use were “pretty darn effective for getting [her] way.”

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Story, Elaine Pagels describes her time at Harvard under the supervision of Koester during the 1960s. In the book, she states unambiguously that Koester, who was well known for opening his home to his graduate students,65 sexually assaulted her in his home.66 At the time, one did not make public accusations about such towering figures, and so she kept it to herself and continued to work with him, though his advances did not cease. As troubling as this is, the response to this revelation is, in my view, even more telling. Since Pagels’ accusation was widely shared on social media, I quickly learned that others who had been young scholars at the time knew of these sorts of rumors about Koester and were not especially surprised to see them now in print. It was part of a larger culture of gender inequality in the academy at this time. Pagels has reflected further on this incident: I didn’t have the opportunity before he died, but I did talk to the dean in charge of depositions and discovered that there were many people to whom it had happened with the same professor and others. This was part of the story about being a woman graduate student almost anywhere in that time.67

I use this accusation and the responses to it by others to raise the possibility that there may have been other reasons that women might have been deterred from pursuing Q studies at Harvard in this period.68 Even if those reasons were only uncomfortable rumors, it still exposes the different conditions under which male and female graduate students entered academia.69

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Monier, Helmut Koester. Pagels, Why Religion, 25. See also, Epstein, A Scholar of Religion Confronts Her Own Grief. Riess, Elaine Pagels on Grief (italics added for emphasis). Pagels’ memoir contains a more troubling version of this reflection: “Decades passed before I dared speak about it. When finally I confided in two women who had been graduate students after me, both, to my surprise, had similar stories about that professor, and another one. After I publicly reported his behavior to a dean in the president’s office, I learned that therapists at the Harvard Health Services, themselves bound to confidentiality about what distressed students reported, called him Koester the Molester” (Why Religion, 25–26). William Harris, a prolific scholar of Graeco-Roman antiquity, is another example of a male scholar whose sexual advances toward women in subordinate position were well known (Lang, Columbia Professor Retires in Settlement of Sexual Harassment Lawsuit). Parenthetically, the same situation exists today: there are informal networks among women scholars through which information about sexual assault and other dangerous people are relayed. They are informal, because these figures are often housed at prestigious universities, and especially for women in contingent positions, making public or formal accusations can be detrimental to one’s career. Such a situation is not unique to Q studies of course; numerous women have been deterred from following all sorts of academic careers because of sexual impropriety. Observe, for instance, this carefullydocumented list of academics who have sexual misconduct accusations against them: https://academic-sexual-misconduct-database.org/. For a detailed overview of sexism in the academy more generally, see Vettese, Sexism in the Academy’s Narrowing Path to Tenure.

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It was not impossible to carry out research on Q at other institutions in the United States, but Claremont and Harvard were certainly the most exciting and prestigious in the 1980s and 90s. But, as I have suggested, neither institution was especially welcoming to women scholars. Many people are wary of trying to understand the institutional influence of figures such as Koester or Robinson, because these sorts of questions are often perceived as critiques. I understand that. But I also maintain that social institutions are made up of people, and people have very real influences on the lives of others. Part of the reticence to engage in critique stems from the ways in which we are socialized to treat senior scholars, especially senior male scholars. We, as a discipline, hold them up as idealizations of what scholars in this field looks like. We revere “giants of the field,” speak of their abusive habits (if they exist) as mere eccentricities, and laugh at their obstinate, rude, or combative personalities (again: if they exist). And sometimes, the assumption that certain figures are untouchable geniuses has been detrimental. It has meant that accusations about impropriety are ignored or downplayed, as I suspect they were with Koester. Something similar is happening with the recent accusation of sexual harassment of (female scholar) Avital Ronell at NYU. In response to the accusation, a number of well-known academics, including the likes of Judith Butler, Slavonic Zizek, Jean-Luc Nancy, and Gayatri Chavravorty Spivak, wrote a letter that came to her defense. In the new era of #metoo with its dedication to believing the accusers, the backlash against the letter of support was enormous, including these remarks from Amy Elizabeth Robinson: The letter...is about celebrity. It is about the cult of genius. It is lifting an individual outside and above the structures of power and hierarchy that the signers have spent so many years claiming to dismantle. It blames (or at best pigeonholes) the victim, assuages the dominant, and calls into heartbreaking question the genuineness of the signers’ seemingly radical work.... The entire text of that letter is saturated with a devotion to rank, privilege, reputation, [and] acclaim.70

We all know cases in which “giants” of our field are treated as celebrities; in most cases, it is benign, but in others, not so much, for it creates conditions that lead to structural inequality. To highlight the roles of these influential figures in structural or other inequality is not necessarily identical to blaming them singlehandedly for the state of affairs.

7.

Assigning Blame?

Gender inequality can be an uncomfortable topic to discuss in academia. Humanities scholars especially tend to be progressive, socially liberal, and 70

Robinson, On Power and Aporia in the Academy.

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otherwise forward thinking and do not wish to imagine themselves as complicit in any sort of structural inequality.71 But we are. A biased institutional structure, in large measure, is not about individual blame.72 That is why sociologists speak of structural inequality. It is built into the system, and no single person is responsible for the systemic prejudices. Structural inequality works at the level of society, wherein women have been the primary caregivers in the family and have not been able to devote an uninterrupted series of years to higher education.73 It works at the level of institutions of higher education as well, wherein, for example, male professors tend to receive better teaching evaluations than their female colleagues, due to unconscious assumptions by students about what an ideal professor should look and act like. And it works through the structure of academic networks, as I have described above, wherein men tend to maintain networks from which women are (whether unintentionally or not) regularly excluded. Individuals can participate in institutional structures that perpetuate inequality, even though they themselves would not personally support any kind of discrimination. Inequality can exist even in spite of individual efforts to change it, and in fact, many expressions of bias that I have discussed throughout this paper are rarely intentional. They follow from utterly normal assumptions about what kind of academic work is worth promoting, which sorts of volumes might sell the most copies, and which topics will attract the largest audience. Yet given that the dominant academic figures in the past have tended to be men reflecting a certain kind of intellectual legacy, it has been all too easy to perpetuate some outdated assumptions which have led to the marginalization of female scholars. These points embody what Susannah Heschel and Sarah Imhoff are getting at when they propose that “the field itself is to blame”74 for the absence of women.

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So also, Heschel and Imhoff write of Jewish studies: “Gender bias is not necessarily deliberate but may often be unconscious and require deliberate attention to overcome…[M]any of the men [in Jewish Studies] who have not included women…think of themselves as liberal or progressive, and they are often innovative leaders in the field, yet they, too, may overlook, ignore and exclude women. Even women in positions of power can be guilty of excluding and ignoring other women.” Heschel and Imhoff, Where Are All The Women In Jewish Studies. Ali, No Manthology Is An Island. Silverman, Fighting the Same Fights as Our Feminist Mothers. Heschel and Imhoff, Where Are All The Women In Jewish Studies.

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Consequences for Q Scholarship

Finally, it is worth highlighting what is lost when an academic field is plagued by outdated gender biases. The most obvious is that the topic itself becomes known for being outdated and backward, which takes us back to the melodramatic surprise registered by Goodacre’s tweet mentioned at the outset. Q studies has a reputation as a sub-field that cannot let go of its old-fashioned models of scholarship, that hesitates to entertain innovative forms of scholarship, and that is incapable turning its critical eye inward to assess how its “old boys club” fits within wider academia. To be a sub-field of biblical studies that alienates women or features only token women (not to mention the striking lack of people of color), in this day and age, quite frankly makes us “look ridiculous in the eyes of our academic colleagues.”75 Moreover, by not including a diverse range of scholars, we are “distorting the state of the field, narrowing the range of knowledge and interpretation, and excluding important areas of research and insight.”76 We have literally denied a voice to a portion of the population that can say new and exciting things about our topic. In addition, there is a practical matter: structural inequality also affects the course of women scholars’ careers. The assumptions about what makes valuable scholarship that I have parsed in this paper continue to determine who gets invited to conferences and whose work passes peer review, whose work is regarded as essential reading on a topic and whose is relegated to the periphery. On this, Heschel and Imhoff opine, “Given the growing number of women entering academic life, for senior male scholars not to include younger female scholars in conferences and anthologies limits women’s career paths and will ultimately diminish the debates that make the field vibrant.”77 The authors are speaking of Jewish studies, which is also plagued by gender inequality, but their sentiment is relevant here as well. The most detrimental consequence, which is becoming more and more apparent to me and my co-chairs of the Q unit of the SBL, is that Q scholarship is slowly dying out due to decreasing numbers of interested scholars. Since I have been on the steering committee for the Q unit, we have faced a significant struggle in finding participants each year, no matter their gender – there simply are not hordes of scholars clamoring to present on Q. The topic is becoming less and less enticing for emerging scholars, largely because many young scholars view Q scholarship as outdated and unexciting. The possibility of becoming a “Q scholar” simply does not hold the same attraction as it once did. As I have suggested above, this is partially because of a narrowly conceived stereotype of 75 76 77

Heschel and Imhoff, Where Are All The Women In Jewish Studies. Heschel and Imhoff, Where Are All The Women In Jewish Studies. Heschel and Imhoff, Where Are All The Women In Jewish Studies.

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what a typical Q scholar is, which implicitly reflects a normatively construed, male academic. As it turns out, that is not what everyone aspires to be.

9.

Conclusion

There are no simple solutions to the complex problem of representation in academia or anywhere else. What most people do not want to hear is that it takes significant work and effort to get more people involved. In the words of Ayesha Chaudry, this is an obligation that is tied to one’s privilege of already being seen and heard within a field: “As long as you have unearned privilege on the back of another, you have a responsibility to resist the system that grants you privilege, to fight for those who are discriminated against and abused by the same system, to use your privilege to lose it.”78 In some sense, I have a certain amount of privylege in Q studies, because my scholarly networks, as well as my research, intersect with both traditional, established Q scholarship, as well as more theoretical and social-scientific approaches: I am seen and heard. This is part of my justifycation in writing this essay, even though it is not my “regular” area of scholarship. Even if we cannot change the terrain of academia and expose everyone’s unconscious biases overnight, the first step is certainly to acknowledge the problem and to realize the extent of our unintentional complicity. I view efforts such as this conference where this essay was originally presented as precisely the sort of intervention that is necessary. Moreover, for those of us who spend a great deal of time in the classroom, we should train students to recognize the absence of diverse voices of authority and, whenever possible, to expose the distortions that result from this absence. When it comes to teaching, Mika Ahuvia encourages us to “model a response of discomfort with [unrepresentative] texts and articulate a critique of them...bring in other voices.... If nothing else, pause for a moment and remind students of what is absent.”79 When it comes to voices who are absent in studies on Q and the Synoptic Problem, we would do well to articulate this absence more often.80

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Chaudhry, Islamic Legal Studies. Ahuvia, Reading the Rabbis in the Age of #MeToo. Ahuvia’s original quotation is aimed at “misogynist” texts, which is too strong an accusation for the present topic. Thus, I have softened her remarks to concern “unrepresentative” texts. My deepest appreciation to the following people for either reading earlier drafts of this paper or discussing my ideas with me during the writing process: Herbert Berg, Milton Moreland, John S. Kloppenborg, Daniel A. Smith, Daniel C. Ullucci, Chris Keith, Rhiannon Graybill, James G. Crossley, Giovanni B. Bazzana, Dieter T. Roth, and Ian P. Brown.

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Appendix 1: Bibliography of Women Q Scholars Batten, Alicia, More Queries for Q: Women and Christian Origins, in: Biblical Theology Bulletin 24.2 (1994) 44–51. ———. Patience Breeds Wisdom: Q 6:40 in Context, in: CBQ 60 (1998) 641–56. ———. The Jesus Tradition and the Letter of James, in: RevExp 108 (2011) 381–90. ———. The Urbanization of Jesus Traditions in James, in: J. S. Kloppenborg/A. Batten (eds.), James, 1 & 2 Peter and the Early Jesus Tradition (LNTS 478), London 2014, 78–96. Beavis, Mary Ann, ed., The Lost Coin: Parables of Women, Work and Wisdom (The Biblical Seminar 86), Sheffield 2002. Becker, Eve Marie, Die 6. Vaterunser-Bitte: Ihre frühjüdischen Wurzeln und ihre frühchristliche Transformation, in: R. Egger-Wenzel/J. Corley (eds.), Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature Yearbook 2004, Berlin 2004, 481–503. ———. Die synoptischen Evangelien und ihre Quellen: Überlegungen zur Terminologie und Methodologie der Evangelien-Exegese, in T. Rathmann/N. Wegmann (eds.), „Quelle“: Zwischen Ursprung und Konstrukt: Ein Leitbegriff in der Diskussion (Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für Deutsche Philologie 12), Berlin 2004, 129–49. ———. Mark With and Against Q: The Earliest Gospel Narrative as a Counter Model, in: M. Müller/H. Omerzu (eds.), Gospel Interpretation and the Q-Hypothesis (LNTS 573), London 2018, 151–64. Bieberstein, Sabine. Verschwiegene Jüngerinnen – Vergessene Zeuginnen: Gebrochene Konzepte im Lukasevangelium (NTOA 38), Freiburg 1998. Bosold, Iris. Pazifismus und prophetische Provokation: Das Grussverbot Lk 10,4b (SBS 90), Stuttgart 1978. Carruth, Shawn. Persuasion in Q: A Rhetorical Study of the Character of the Speaker in Q 6:20–49, Ph.D. diss, Claremont Graduate School, 1992. ———. Strategies of Authority: A Rhetorical Study of the Character of the Speaker in Q 6:20–49, in: J. S. Kloppenborg (ed.), Conflict and Invention: Literary, Rhetorical, and Social Studies on the Sayings Gospel Q, Valley Forge 1995, 98–115. Carruth, Shawn, and Albrecht Garsky, eds., Q 11:2b–4. Documenta Q: Reconstructions of Q Through Two Centuries of Gospel Research Excerpted, Sorted and Evaluated, Leuven 1996. Carruth, Shawn, and James M. Robinson, eds., Q 4:1–13,16. Documenta Q: Reconstructions of Q Through Two Centuries of Gospel Research Excerpted, Sorted and Evaluated, Leuven 1996. Collins, Adela Yarbro, The Son of Man Sayings in the Sayings Source, in: M. P. Horgan/P. J. Kobelski (eds.), To Touch the Text: Biblical and Related Studies in Honor of Joseph A. Fitzmyer, S.J., New York 1989, 369–89. Cotter, Wendy, Children Sitting in the Agora: Q (Luke) 7:31–35, in: Forum 5.2 (1989) 63–82. ———. Christopher Tuckett and the Question of Q, in: T. Larson (ed.), Biblical Scholarship in the Twentieth Century: The Rylands Chair of Biblical Criticism and Exegesis at the University of Manchester 1904–2004 (Vol. 3 of Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester 86) 2004, 141–74. ———. Prestige, Protection and Promise: A Proposal for the Apologetics of Q2, in: R. Piper (ed.), The Gospel behind the Gospels Current Studies on Q (Novum Testamentum Supplements 75), Leiden 1995, 117–138. ———. The Parable of the Children in the Market-Place, Q (Lk) 7:31–35: An Examination of the Parable’s Image and Significance, in: Novum Testamentum 29.4 (1987) 289–304. ———. The Parables of the Mustard Seed and the Leaven, in: Toronto Journal of Theology 8.1 (1992) 38–51. ———. ‘Yes, I Tell You, and More than a Prophet.’ The Function of John the Baptist in Q, in: J. S. Kloppenborg (ed.), Conflict and Invention: Literary, Rhetorical and Social Studies on the Sayings Source Q, Valley Forge 1995, 135–50. D’Angelo, Mary Rose, Theology in Mark and Q: Abba and ‘Father’ in Context, in: HTR 85.2 (1992) 149– 74.

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Deutsch, Celia, Hidden Wisdom and the Easy Yoke: Wisdom, Torah and Discipleship in Matthew 11.25–30, (JSNTSup 18), Sheffield 1987. Dewey, Joanna, Response to Kelber, Horsley, and Draper, in: R. A. Horsley (ed.), Oral Performance, Popular Tradition, and Hidden Transcript in Q (Semeia Studies 60), Atlanta 101–107. Dreyer, Yolanda, The Tradition History of the Sayings Gospel Q and the Christology of Q, in: Neotestamenica 34.2 (2000) 273–85. Ego, Beate, Different Attitudes to the Temple in Second Temple Judaism – A Fresh Approach to Jesus’ Temple Prophecy, in: M. Tiwald (ed.), Q in Context II Social Setting and Archeological Background of the Sayings Source (BBB 173), Bonn 2015, 165–178. Fischer, Irmtraud, Mehr Reden über das Gebet als Beten: Eine Alttestamentlerin liest Gebetstexte in Q, in: C. Heil/ D. A. Smith (eds.), Prayer in the Sayings Gospel Q (WUNT 425), Tübingen 2019, 11– 21. Glancy, Jennifer Ann, Satan in the Synoptic Gospels, Ph.D. diss, Columbia University, 1990. Goulet-Cazé, Marie-Odile, Cynicism and Christianity in Antiquity, translated by C. R. Smith. Grand Rapids 2019. ———. Cynisme et christianisme dans l’antiquité (Textes et Traditions 26), Paris 2014. ———. Kynismus, in: RAC 22 (2008) 631–87. Harb, Gertraud, Die eschatologische Rede des Spruchevangeliums Q: Redaktions- und traditionsgeschichtliche Studien zu Q 17,23–27, (BITS 19), Leuven 2014. ———. The Meaning of Q 17,37: Problems, Opinions and Perspectives, in: ZNW 102.3–4 (2011) 283–93. ———, Christoph Heil, and Daniel A. Smith, eds., Built on Rock or Sand? Q Studies: Retrospects, Introducts and Prospects (BToSt 34), Leuven 2018. Hezser, Catherine, Prayer in the Sayings Source Q and in Early Rabbinic Texts, in: C. Heil/D. A. Smith (eds.), Prayer in the Sayings Gospel Q (WUNT 425), Tübingen 2019, 103–22. Ilan, Tal, The Women of the Q Community within Early Judaism, in: M. Tiwald (ed.), Q in Context II: Social Setting and Archaeological Background of the Sayings Source (BBB), Bonn 2015, 195–212. Jervis, L. Ann, All for Jesus: The Cause, Character and Role of Discipleship Suffering in Q, in: Pro Ecclesia 11.1 (2002) 41–56. ———. Suffering for the Reign of God: The Persecution of Disciples in Q, in: Novum Testamentum 44.4 (2002) 313–32. Johnson, Elizabeth A., Jesus, the Wisdom of God. A Biblical Basis of Non-Androcentric Christology, in: Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses 61.4 (1985) 261–94. Johnson-DeBaufre, Melanie, Bridging the Gap to “This Generation”: A Feminist-CriticalReading of the Rhetoric of Q 7:31–35, in: S. Matthews/C. B. Kittredge/M. Johnson-DeBaufre, Walk in the Ways of Wisdom: Essays in Honor of Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, Harrisburg 2003, 214–233. ———. Communities Resisting Fragmentation: Q and the Work of James C. Scott, in: R. Horsley (ed.), Oral Performance, Popular Tradition, and Hidden Transcript in Q (Semeia Studies 60), Atlanta 2006, 193–207. ———. Jesus Among Her Children: Q, Eschatology, and the Construction of Christian Origins, Cambridge 2006. Kern, Gabi, Parabeln in der Logienquelle Q. Einleitung, in: R. Zimmermann mit D. Formeyer (eds.), Kompendium der Gleichnisse Jesu, Gütersloh 2007, 49–58. Levine, Amy-Jill, Second Temple Judaism, Jesus and Women: Yeast of Eden, in: Biblical Interpretation 2.1 (1994) 8–33. ———. Who’s Catering the Q Affair? Feminist Observations on Q Paraenesis, in: L. G. Perdue/J. G. Gammie (eds.), Paraenesis: Act and Form (Semeia 50), Atlanta 1990, 145–61. ———. Women in the Q Communit(Ies) and Traditions, in: R. S. Kraemer/M. R. D’Angelo (eds.), Women and Christian Origins, New York 1999, 150–170. Linnemann, Eta, Is There a Gospel of Q?, in: BRev 11.4 (1995) 18–23, 42–43. ———. Jesus und der Täufer, in: G. Ebeling/J. Eberhard/G. Schunack (eds.), Festschrift Für Ernst Fuchs, Tübingen 1973, 219–36. ———. The Lost Gospel Q – Fact or Fantasy?, in: TJ 17 (1996) 3–18. Mattila, Sharon L., A Problem Still Clouded: Yet Again--Statistics and Q, in: NovT 36 (1994) 313–29.

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———. Negotiating the Clouds Around Statistics and ‘Q’: A Rejoinder and Independent Analysis, in: NovT 46.2 (2004) 105–31. McKenzie, Alyce Mundi, Subversive Sages: Preaching on Proverbial Wisdom in Proverbs, Qohelet and the Synoptic Jesus Through the Reader Response Theory of Wolfgang Iser, Ph.D. diss, Princeton Theological Seminary, 1994. Melzer-Keller, Helga, Frauen in der Logienquelle und ihrem Trägerkreis: Ist Q das Zeugnis einer patriarchatskritischen, egalitären Bewegung?, in S. Brandenburger/T. Heike (eds.), Wenn drei das Gleiche sagen: Studien zu den ersten drei Evangelien. Mit einer Werkstattübersetzung des Q-Textes, (Theologie 14), Münster 1998, 37–62. ———. Jesus und die Frauen: Eine Verhältnisbestimmung nach den synoptischen Evangelien (HBS 14), Freiburg im Breisgau 1997. ———. Wie frauenfreundlich ist die Logienquelle?, in: BK 54.2 (1999) 89–92. Miquel, Esther, Del Movimiento de Jesús al Grupo Q: Un Studio Sobre La Localización de La Moral, in: Los Comienzos Del Cristianismo, (Bibliotheca Salmanticensis Estudios 284), Salamanca 2006, 93– 115. Omerzu, Heike, Beyond the Fourfold Gospel: A Critical Reading of Francis Watson’s Gospel Writing: A Canonical Perspective, in: Journal for the Study of the New Testament 37.2 (2014) 201–9. ———. Introduction: What Is at Stake by Advocating or Disputing the Two Source Theory?, in: M. Müller/H. Omerzu (eds.), Gospel Interpretation and the Q-Hypothesis (LNTS 573), London 2018, 1–12. Park, InHee, Children and Slaves: The Metaphors of Q, in: D. T. Roth/R. Zimmermann/M. Labahn (eds.), Metaphor, Narrative, and Parables in Q, (WUNT 315), Tübingen 2014, 73–92. ———. From the Desert to the Kingdom of God: Narrative Space and the Temptation Story (Q 4:1–13), in: Journal of Biblical Text Research 35 (2014) 310–28. Parks, Sara, Women in Q: Gender in the Rhetoric of Jesus, Minneapolis 2019. Rollens, Sarah E., Conceptualizing Justice in Q: Narrative and Context, in: D. T. Roth/R. Zimmermann/M. Labahn (eds.), Metaphor, Narrative, and Parables in Q, (WUNT 315), Tübingen 2014, 96–106. ———. Does ‘Q’ Have Any Representative Potential?, MTSR 23.1 (2011) 64–79. ———. Framing Social Criticism in the Jesus Movement: The Ideological Project in the Sayings Gospel Q, (WUNT II 374), Tübingen 2014. ———. Persecution in the Social Setting of Q, in: M. Tiwald (ed.), Q in Context II: Social Setting and Archaeological Background of the Sayings Source, (BBB), Bonn 2015, 149–64. ———. Q in Context and Comparison: A Response to Choi, Foster, and Arzt-Grabner, in: ASE 34.1 (2017) 257–63. ———. Q in Matthew: A Review Essay, in: JSHJ 15.2–3 (2017) 169–91. ———. The Identity of Q in the First Century: Reproducing a Theological Narrative, in W. E. Arnal/W. Braun/R. T. McCutcheon (eds.), Failure and Nerve in the Study of Religion, London 2012, 177– 91. ———. The Kingdom of God Is Among You: Prospects for a Q Community, in: S. E. Porter/A. W. Pitts (eds.), Christian Origins and the Establishment of the Early Jesus Movement, (Early Christianity in Its Hellenistic Environment 4), Leiden 2018, 224–41. ———. ‘Why Do You Not Judge for Yourselves What Is Right?’: A Consideration of the Synoptic Relationship between Mt 5,25–26 and Lk 12,57–59, in: Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses 86.4 (2010) 449–69. Rothschild, Clare K., An Ethic of Food Moderation in the Diasporanovelle and Q, in: C. Heil/ G. Harb/D. A. Smith (eds.), Built on Rock or Sand? Q Studies: Retrospects, Introspects and Prospects, (BETL), Leuven 2018, 325–46. ———. Baptist Traditions and Q (WUNT 190), Tübingen 2005. ———. Refusing to Acknowledge the Immerser (Q 7.31–35), in: M. Müller/H. Omerzu (eds.), Gospel Interpretation and the Q-Hypothesis (LNTS 573), London 2018, 165–84. Schattner-Rieser, Ursula, The Lord’s Prayer in the Context of Jewish-Aramaic Prayer Traditions in the Time of Jesus, in: C. Heil/D. A. Smith (eds.), Prayer in the Sayings Gospel Q, (WUNT 425), Tübingen 2019, 23–55.

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Riess, J., Elaine Pagels on Grief, Her #MeToo Story, and Why We Find Meaning in Religion, in: Religion News Service (26 October 2018). https://religionnews.com/2018/10/26/elaine-pagels-on-griefher-metoo-story-and-why-we-find-meaning-in-religion/. Robinson, A. E., On Power and Aporia in the Academy: A Response in Three Parts, in: Medium (20 August 2018). https://medium.com/@amyelizabethrobinson/on-power-and-aporia-in-theacademy-a-response-in-three-parts-f7387c346ffa. Rollens, S. E., Why We Have Failed to Theorize Scribes in Antiquity, in W. E. Arnal/R. A. Ascough/R. A. Derrenbacker/P. A. Harland (eds.), Scribal Practices and Social Structures Among Jesus’ Adherents. Essays in Honour of John S. Kloppenborg (BETL 285) Leuven 2016, 117–33. Russ, J., How to Suppress Women’s Writing (Louann Atkins Temple Women & Culture Series 43), Austin 1983. Schottroff, L., The Sayings Source Q, in: E. S. Fiorenza (ed.) Searching the Scriptures. Volume Two: A Feminist Commentary, New York 1994, 510–34. Silverman, G., Fighting the Same Fights as Our Feminist Mothers, (14 August 2018). https://blogs.brandeis.edu/freshideasfromhbi/fighting-the-same-fights-as-our-feministmothers/. Statement in Response to Graduate Students, n.d. https://www.aarweb.org/BOD-responsegradmetoo. de Ste. Croix, G. E. M., The Class Struggle in the Ancient Greek World: From the Archaic Age to the Arab Conquests, Ithaca 1989. Taylor, J., I’m a Woman Who Imitated the Swagger of an Entitled White Male – and It Got Results, in The Star, n.d.: https://www.thestar.com/news/insight/opinion/2018/10/13/im-a-womanwho-imitated-the-swagger-of-an-entitled-white-male-and-it-got-results.html. Vettese, T., Sexism in the Academy’s Narrowing Path to Tenure, in: n + 1 (Spring 2019). https://nplusonemag.com/issue-34/essays/sexism-in-the-academy/. Walsh, R. F., Q and the ‘Big Bang’ Theory of Christian Origins, in: B. S. Crawford/M. P. Miller (eds.), Redescribing the Gospel of Mark (Early Christianity and Its Literature 22), Atlanta 2017, 483– 534. Warne, R. R., (En)Gendering Religious Studies, in Studies in Religion/Sciences Religieuses 27.4 (1998) 427–36. Whiting, K., Women Were Awarded More PhDs in the US than Men Last Year, in: World Economic Forum, n.d. https://www.weforum.org/agenda/2018/10/chart-of-the-day-more-womenthan-men-earned-phds-in-the-us-last-year/.

Further References Quoted from Internet and Social Media Academic Sexual Misconduct Database, n.d. https://academic-sexual-misconduct-database.org/. Biaswatchneuro, n.d. https://biaswatchneuro.com/. Population Distribution by Gender, in: The Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation (29 November 2018). https://www.kff.org/other/state-indicator/distribution-by-gender/. Request a Woman Scientist, in: 500 Women Scientists, n.d. https://500womenscientists.org/requesta-scientist. @theTable: ‘Manthologies,’ in Feminist Studies in Religion, n.d. https://www.fsrinc.org/thetablemanthologies/. Women Also Know History, n.d. https://womenalsoknowhistory.com/. Women Biblical Scholars, n.d. https://womenbiblicalscholars.com/. Women of Ancient History – a Crowdsourced List of Female Ancient Historians, n.d. http://woah.lib.uiowa.edu/.

 

Learning Lessons on Q: The 2DH and Q in Academic Teaching Hildegard Scherer1

What types of social interaction have been used when teaching the TwoDocument-Hypothesis (2DH)? And what lessons for further teaching can be learnt from that? These questions guide my analysis of two epochs of academic teaching on the DH. First, I will apply them to the stormy period around the turn of the 19th to the 20th century, then to the more longitudinal period from postWWII to today. As it is difficult to survey academic teaching of past times, I have decided to limit my observations to the textual base of introductions to the New Testament (NT) from the German-speaking area.2 They commend themselves, as they promise basic orientation and groundwork for exegesis. Many of them are explicitly designed as Lehrbuch/textbook, many appeared in series, such as “Uni-Taschenbuch” or “Theologische Wissenschaft”, and nearly all of them are written by academic teachers. I thus dare to conclude that the NT introductions represent academic teaching at least from the point of view of teachers. Moreover, they represent the basic setting of academic teaching that functions under the conditions of power and time.

1.

Academic Teaching: The Conditions of Power and Time

The partners in academic teaching are not equals. The teacher is responsible, and paid, for choosing content and modes of presentation. S/he is entitled to evaluate the results of the learning process, which seriously affects the future career of the student. In psychological terms, this is called the power over sanction or gratification.3 1

2

3

I would like to thank Dr Nathalie Chardon, Davos/CH, for improving and proof-reading the English text. All remaining errors are my own. I have excluded translations into German from other languages and also introductions for only parts of the NT, e. g. the Synoptics or the gospels. For the types of power cf. Steins, Sozialpsychologie I, 84–90, and Netzel/Braun/Frey, Macht, 506–508, who mention further types according to the “classical” paradigm of French and Raven.

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Apart from that, “expert power” is one major resource in the teaching process. Formally, it is institutionalized in the academic system by degrees and titles that some of the textbook authors explicitly mention on their title pages. The students are inclined to accept their teachers as superior in this respect, but expert power has also to be exercised in practice. Here, the teachers have an advantage by their power to decide on topics and by their professional routine. They have invested much more in studying the problems than their students, especially if they write books. Another important factor in academic teaching is time that is severely limited. The 2DH is only one among many topics in New Testament introduction, and thus, in a one-year-course there is only a time span of about 90 minutes for the synoptic problem. In introductory books, the problem is also only discussed on a limited span of pages. Therefore, they are necessarily schematic. What does academic teaching on the 2DH and Q look like under these conditions? My first study deals with the two decades at the turn from the 19th to the 20th century.

2.

The 2DH at the Threshold of the 20th Century

The turn from the 19th to the 20th century was a heyday of New Testament introduction textbooks. Scholars had discussed historical critical questions for over a century and the genre was well established. In addition, the 2DH had been proposed more than half a century ago, hence enough time had passed to evaluate its influence. For both Catholic and Protestant scholars, the period was marked by intensive debate. The Catholics4 were guided by the encyclical Providentissimus Deus (1893)5, which among others defined the inspiration of the biblical authors (DH 3291–3292) and the value of evidence from tradition (DH 3286). They already felt the restrictions of “anti-modernism”, which had manifested itself in the magisterial rescripts of the Pontificial Biblical Commission since 1905. These rescripts prohibited to argue in favour of the 2DH.6 However, also the Protestants were torn between Orthodoxy and Liberalism, and labelled by their respective opponents as either unscientific or destructive. It is thus no surprise that the introductory textbooks of this period speak with different voices. 4 5

6

A short survey on this period is given by Schmidt, Wort, 29–44. Cf. Unterburger, Providentissimus Deus: This is the first evidence of a papal magisterial decision on biblical hermeneutics, addressed against rationalism, but inspired by the interests of a Jesuit school and implicitly revised by Vat II. Cf. rescript dated to 26.06.1912, DH 3572.3578. See also the contributions of Markus Tiwald and Joseph Verheyden in this book.

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Holtzmann and Jülicher

In 1892, the third edition of Heinrich Julius Holtzmann’s “Lehrbuch der historisch-kritischen Einleitung in das Neue Testament” was published within seven years of the first edition by Mohr in Tübingen. Holtzmann7 was, by that time, full professor of theology at Strasbourg, as the title page of this book demonstrates. When his textbook first appeared, he had already taught at the universities in Heidelberg and Strasbourg for 26 years. Holtzmann has entered into the history of NT studies as a principal defender of the 2DH. Two years after Holtzmann’s publication, Adolf Jülicher’s “Einleitung in das Neue Testament” was produced by the same publisher. Jülicher,8 by that time full professor of NT and Church History in Marburg, also favours the 2DH. In these books, Holtzmann and Jülicher use the same strategies of presentation. a) Creating relevance Holtzmann presents the synoptic question as linked to the “life of Jesus” theories and therefore claims that it is decisive.9 To Jülicher, it is necessary to explain the differences and contradictions in synoptic material for the sake of the credibility of Jesus traditions.10 By these remarks, both of them place the synoptic question in the center of contemporary theological debate. Moreover, the authors placed themselves in opposition to the Straussian mythologists and in the line of the (rational) believers. b) Scientific method Already in his title, Holtzmann emphasizes his scientific base, as he claims to have written a historical critical introduction. In his foreword, he promises a comprehensive and balanced presentation,11 which gives him credibility as a serious scholar. For him, the solution to the “synoptical knot” is to be expected from criticism after dogmatism had failed.12 Moreover, in Holtzmann’s mode of presentation, his expertise and diligence are demonstrated by the discussion of diverse reference works. 7 8 9

10 11 12

For biographical data cf. Merk, Art. Holtzmann. Biography: Klauck, Art. Jülicher. Holtzmann, Lehrbuch, 350: “Gleichwohl ist die Controverse über das synoptische Problem erst recht in den Vordergrund der Discussion gerückt und durch die innige Verbindung, in welchem sie mit den Bemühungen um das ʼLeben Jesu‘ getreten ist, zu einer Frage von entscheidender Bedeutung herangewachsen.” Cf. Jülicher, Einleitung, 210–211. Cf. Holtzmann, Lehrbuch, V. Holtzmann, Lehrbuch, 345: “aus Aehnlichkeit wie Unterschied schlingt sich der synoptische Knoten, welcher durch Kritik gelöst sein will, nachdem die Dogmatik vergeblich versucht hat, ihn zu zerhauen”.

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In his foreword, Jülicher classifies his treatment as strictly historical.13 Later on, he follows an expert method by extensively referring to textual evidence. He is far sighted enough to mention the problems of textual tradition and to label a complete synoptic explanation as superstition (“Aberglauben”).14 He is also cautious enough to claim that Q cannot be reconstructed.15 c) Evaluation For the overwhelming part of their discussion, Jülicher and Holtzmann are sober and factual. However, sometimes a rhetorically effective, even funny, expression slips that gives clear evidence of their critical evaluations. Holtzmann states that Christian Hermann Weisse, the founder of the 2DH, had a “Wurf gethan”, which best translates into that he had an ingenious idea, and refers to the astute research work (“scharfsinnigen Forschungen”) of the cofounder Christian Gottlob Wilke.16 On the other hand, the oral tradition hypothesis is said to be the true “Asylum ignorantiae” of apologetics, and the proto-Gospel hypothesis to create more or less phantastic ghost books.17 Jülicher also finds Weisse’s and Wilke’s suggestion brilliant and concludes that Q can hardly be denied any more.18 His characterization of Theodor Zahn, a protagonist of a concurring theory, in the foreword to the 3/4th edition as great labyrinth gardener19 reveals his point of view.

2.2.

The Afterlife of Holtzmann and Jülicher

One decade later, the success of Holtzmann and Jülicher is evident. Hans von Soden therefore skips detailed explanations of the synoptic problem in his literary history of early Christianity. He merely states that close scrutiny made it clear that the gospels depend on each other, but that Matthew and Luke worked independently.20 These facts are irrevocably testified to by the gospels,

13 14 15 16 17

18

19 20

Jülicher, Einleitung, III: “streng geschichtliche (original: letter spaced) Behandlung”. Jülicher, Einleitung, 214; on textual tradition cf. 214–215. Cf. Jülicher, Einleitung, 222. Holtzmann, Lehrbuch, 348. Holtzmann, Lehrbuch, 351: “das eigentliche Asylum ignorantiae der entschlossenen Apologetik”; 352: “erhebliche Anzahl von bald mehr, bald weniger phantastisch aussehenden Buchgespenstern”. Jülicher, Einleitung, 214: “glänzend inaugurirten” [sic]; 221: “Die reichliche Benutzung einer 2. Quellenschrift neben Mc Seitens des Mt und Lc kann kaum noch geleugnet werden”. Jülicher, Einleitung3,4, IV: “der grosse Irrgärtner”. V. Soden, Literaturgeschichte, 64: “Eingehende Beschäftigung […] stellt es ganz sicher …”.

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and the great majority of scholars has reached consensus regarding these main points.21 However, not all are as confident as von Soden. In 1908, Franz Barth wished to write a compact introduction especially for students.22 He criticizes Holtzmann, Jülicher and von Soden for suggesting to their readers with impetuosity that scientific neutrality was only found on the side of the so-called modern theology. He furthermore criticizes their claims that most of the introductory questions were settled and that only desperate traditionalism sometimes clung to forlorn positions. Moreover, their efforts to compensate the shortcomings of proof by confident claims are condemned.23 Despite being skeptical about a complete solution, Barth ends up with a modified source theory.24 Nevertheless, his strategies of presentation are similar. He evaluates polemically and creates relevance by claiming the synoptic question to be one of the most important fields of research of recent theology25.

2.3.

The “Catholic” Option: Cornely and Kaulen

From an explicitly “Catholic” side, the Historica et critica introductio in u. t. libros sacros, written by the Jesuit Rudolf Cornely,26 was published, after eleven years in use, in its second, emendated edition in 1897. According to the subtitle, Cornely published the lectures that he had held at the Jesuit Collegium at Maria Laach and later at the influential Roman Jesuit university Gregoriana, which was also attended by the German-speaking students. Cornely’s volume is part of a

21

22 23

24

25 26

V. Soden, Literaturgeschichte, 64: “Diese durch unsere Evangelien unwiderleglich bezeugten Tatsachen haben der Forschung ihre weiteren Wege gewiesen. Nachdem in den Hauptpunkten über die Deutung der Verwandtschaft unserer drei Evangelien bei der großen Mehrzahl der Forscher eine Übereinstimmung erreicht ist …”. For a description of the common source of the double tradition, a sayings collection that he attributes to Matthew, cf. 64–71. Cf. Barth, Einleitung, IV. The points of criticism are mentioned in the introduction, Barth, Einleitung, III–IV: “Es wird dem Leser mit Ungestüm suggeriert, daß die wissenschaftliche Unbefangenheit nur auf e i n e r Seite zu finden sei, bei der Theologie, welche sich die ‘moderne’ nennt, daß die meisten Einleitungsfragen eigentlich bereits in ihrem Sinn entschieden seien, und daß nur verzweifelter Traditionalismus sich da und dort noch an verlorene Positionen anklammere”; IV: “Bemühungen […], die Schwäche der Beweise durch zuversichtliche Behauptungen aufzuwiegen”. Cf. Barth, Einleitung, 224; Barth attributes Mark to Marcan Petrine memories, but at the same time thinks that he had had access to a Matthean “Redenquelle” containing all speeches common to the Synoptics, which Matthew and Luke used more extensively, cf. Barth, Einleitung, 225–228. Barth, Einleitung, 205: “eines der wichtigsten Forschungsgebiete der neueren Theologie”. Biography: N.N., Art. Cornely.

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Jesuit cursus scripturae sacrae, a Catholic compendium, written in Latin and recommended by Pope Leo XIII. One year later the fourth edition of Franz Kaulen’s “Einleitung in die Heilige Schrift”, first published 1876, was printed at Herder publishers. Kaulen27 was Professor of Old Testament in Bonn since 1880 and became member of the Pontificial Biblical Commission in 1903.28 Both introductions claim that the Synoptics were written independently from a stable type of apostolic oral tradition. To Cornely, this is the only solution in accordance with the external sources of tradition, which he values highly.29 Kaulen is more cautious. He finally concedes that a later evangelist used a written gospel, consciously or not, which would explain the unprecedented wordings of OT quotations. However, due to textual critical problems, nothing more could be proved.30 However, Kaulen and Cornely are unanimous in their refutation of alternative theories and their subtle strategies of tying their audience to their position. a) Categorization First, both categorize scholars as Catholic vs. Protestant and/or rationalist. For Cornely, the untenable hypothesis of a proto-gospel (or fragments) was taken up by “not a few rationalists”31. Kaulen attributes the proto-Gospel hypothesis primarily to Protestant scholars who damage science and belief severely.32 Theories of mutual dependence were, according to Cornely, propagated among Catholics and acatholicos alike, and those who think of additional sources (i. e. the defenders of the 2DH who are not explicitly mentioned) are labeled as moderni rationalistae.33 To him, it was impossible for a Catholic to think of Marcan priority, as one would be forced into denying Matthean priority.34 Finally, Cornely explicitly calls the proponents of the mutual dependence enemies (adversarii nostril).35

27 28

29 30 31 32

33

34 35

Biography: Madey, Art. Kaulen. Like Cornely (1889), Kaulen also wrote a short compendium in addition to his longer introduction (1897), but I confine myself to the longer books. Cf. Cornely, Introductio, 184. Cf. Kaulen, Einleitung, 450. Cornely, Introductio, 176: atque a non paucis rationalistis […] excultum, cf. 177. Kaulen, Einleitung, 447: “vorzüglich von protestantischen Gelehrten […] bildet […] protestantischerseits, zum großen Schaden für Wissenschaft und Glaube, den Hauptbestandtheil der neutestamentlichen Studien”. Cornely, Introductio, 179. Cornely, Introductio, 180: a nullo catholico, quod sciam, interprete est recepta nec recipi potuit, quum asseclas suos ad primi Evangelii authentiam negandam cogat. Cornely, Introductio, 180.

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b) Chaos theory Another strategy of immunization is their presentation of alternative hypotheses as chaotic, arbitrary and contradictory. Kaulen polemically exaggerates when he states that every new author created his own theory, and as for the theories of mutual dependence, he claims that the broad range of opinions is already a refutation of their base.36 His conclusion is that only if opinion and conviction are completely mixed up, one could talk about secure insights amidst such a chaos.37 In contrast to the arbitrariness of the other hypotheses, he then presents his favoured solution, the oral tradition hypothesis. Cornely is also busy with emphasizing the diversity of the opposing theories. He claims that they are uncountable, and nearly every year a new one is added.38 In his eyes, traditional information is the only way to avoid arbitrary conjectures and ideas.39 The mutual dependence theories especially demonstrate everything that could be thought of.40 For example, Marcan priority theories exist in many forms and often change their appearance, and because of their contradictions, he feels exempt from refuting mutual dependence theories.41 c) The dignity of the Apostles The two volumes also seek to garner respect for the Apostles as figures of authority. This respect could be damaged by wrong theories. Kaulen is convinced that the helpers and pupils of the Apostles preserved the stable form of their kerygma out of awe or piety42, which makes them (and his theory) invulnerable as reliable witnesses. Cornely is even more concrete. Against the proto-gospel theories and their recensions, he cannot imagine that the Apostles and their pupils had enough time to work through their texts. In his opinion, this contradicts the dignity of an inspired writer.43 As for the theories of mutual dependence, no Catholic can think of Mark making corrections to his

36

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38

39

40 41 42 43

Kaulen, Einleitung, 448; 447: “Diese Mannigfaltigkeit der Ansichten ist an sich schon eine Widerlegung der in Rede stehenden Theorie”. Kaulen, Einleitung, 448: “Nur bei gänzlicher Verwechslung von Meinung und Ueberzeugung kann inmitten eines solchen Chaos noch immer von ‘sicheren Erkenntnissen’ gesprochen werden.” Cornely, Introductio, 170: Innumera sunt systemata excogitata […] et vix non quotannis novum systema veteribus additur. Cornely, Introductio, 170: nec meris coniecturis commentisque arbitrarie excogitatis rem definiri. Cornely, Introductio, 179: formae, quot excogitari potuerunt. Cornely, Introducito, 180: multiformis et versipellis. Kaulen, Einleitung, 441: “Ehrfurcht vor der Sache” and “Pietät gegen ihre Lehrer”. Cornely, Introductio, 178: nec […] otium fuit, ut libros suos continuo retractarent, etiam scriptore inspirato videtur indignum.

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predecessor Matthew, and in case of mutual dependence, the later Evangelists are to be accused of feeblemindedness and negligence.44 By these strategies, the students are taken into a process of identification. The Catholic We-group is defending tradition, sober reason and also the dignity of the Apostles against a chaotic, arbitrary, destructive bunch of a-Catholic and rationalistic theorists. The synoptic problem is a field of avowal to higher values. What the students have not learnt is to study synopses or weight the intricate arguments that were developed by the defenders of the theories. They probably had never heard of the 2DH, and if they had, learnt to attribute it to the wrong side. This avowal, however, only works if arguments against the oral tradition hypothesis are ignored. Decades before, for example, the Catholic professor Johann Leonhard Hug45 had refuted the proto-Gospel and oral tradition theory, among others by the early Christian preaching from Acts and Paul. He also observed that it would have been easier to teach the stories from a written document than to learn it by heart from listening.

2.4.

Other voices: Schaefer, Trenkle, Zahn, Belser, Gutjahr

Not all Catholic contemporaries shared Kaulen’s or Cornely’s opinion. The Catholic introduction by Aloys Schaefer (1898) bears only little traces of categorization and chaos theory and favours the Augustinian dependence theory as an addition that does not exclude oral tradition.46 Trenkle (1897) even cautiously favours the 2DH.47 From the “Catholic” premises of external evidence, several different models were developed or reactivated that all operate with Hebrew/Aramaic Matthew and the suggestion that the Greek interpreter of Matthew used Greek Mark.48 In his 1899 introduction, the Protestant Theodor Zahn opted for an Aramaic Matthew as first gospel that was used by Mark.49 When Aramaic Matthew was 44

45

46 47 48

49

Cornely, Introductio, 182: Eum praedecessorum suum corrigere voluisse nemo unquam catholicus dicet; iuniores Evangelistas socordiae atque negligentiae incusaverint. Cf. Hug, Einleitung, 74–80.83–90 (quoted from the 4th edition of 1847). The Catholic Maier also refuted the oral tradition and hints moreover to the incompatible speeches of John, cf. Maier, Einleitung 1852, 23–29. Both Hug (Einleitung, 160–162) and Maier (Einleitung, 29–37) opt for models of literary dependence, as well as e. g. the Catholic Langen, Grundriss, 58–59. Cf. Schaefer, Einleitung, 251–254. Cf. Trenkle, Einleitung, 133–134. For Hebrew Matthew and the Greek interpreter theory cf. already Reithmayer, Einleitung, 347. Cf. Zahn, Einleitung, 322.

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translated into Greek, Greek Mark was brought in as an auxiliary tool, which explained the similar, or even identical, wording.50 The Greek interpreter theory was also defended in 1901 by the Catholic Johannes Belser who criticizes the oral tradition hypothesis, because it does not explain the identical details and the gospel of John.51 Franz Seraph Gutjahr, according to the title page professor and “fürstb[ischöflicher] Consistorialrath”, published a second, rewritten edition of his introduction in 1905.52 His argumentation strategies seem to be a summary of the aforesaid ones.53 For the evaluation of different opinions and of external tradition over internal evidence, he refers to Pope Leo XIII’s statements.54 The 2DH is classified as from the Protestant side, and, like all the other theories of mutual dependence, it is to be rejected.55 It e. g. contradicts tradition and is not compatible with dignity and inspiration. Although he attributes the oral tradition hypothesis to outstanding Catholic scholars, he mentions open questions and ends up with an additional modified dependence/Greek interpreter theory.56

2.5.

Conclusion

At the turn from the 19th to 20th century, we find scholarly discussion in full swing. A student of this period has two options. The first one is to trust his teacher. The second is to delve into the discussion and become critical of the argumentations, to also read monographs or do synoptic work him- or herself 50

51 52

53

54 55 56

Cf. Zahn, Einleitung, 322 (“neben anderen Hilfsmitteln”).326. In his abbreviated textbook of 1928, Zahn’s Matthew interpreter is influenced not only by Mark, but also by Luke (cf. Zahn, Grundriß, 94.101). Belser, Einleitung, 242.235. According to the WorldCat database (www.worldcat.org, 09.12.2019), the first edition is only available in a Slovenian library. Cf. Gutjahr, Einleitung, 186: He makes the synoptic question salient to his students as one main field of scholarship especially on the Protestant side. Reminiscent of “chaos theory” is his remark that the proposals leave no wish open that concerns difference and audacity. Finally, he is skeptical that a solution can ever be found: “Sie (the synoptic question, HS) bildet in neuerer Zeit einen Hauptbestandtheil der neutestamentlichen Bibelforschung, namentlich auf protestantischer Seite. Hierbei läßt die Mannigfaltigkeit, Verschiedenheit und Kühnheit der bezüglichen Aufstellungen nichts zu wünschen übrig. Eine allseits befriedigende Lösung des Problems wurde bisher nicht geboten und ist auch fernerhin kaum zu hoffen”. Cf. Gutjahr, Einleitung, 186 note 4; 188 note 5. Gutjahr, Einleitung, 189: “zu verwerfen”; for the reasons cf. 189–190. Gutjahr, Einleitung, 190: “hervorragender katholischer Forscher”; for criticism and his solution cf. 192–193: The Greek interpreter of Matthew made use of Mark, Luke used Mark and also Greek and Hebrew Matthew amongst his many written and oral sources. That Mark used Hebrew Matthew is for him not conclusive (192–193).

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as a base of judgment. This would have been the most ambitious option, but in real life, most of the students probably confined themselves to what they needed to pass their exams. Their professors were clear in what they wished to hear from them.

3.

The Last Decades Since WWII

Let us skip the dramatic years of the two world wars and look at a new sample of introductory textbooks from the 1940s to now. Astonishingly, in spite of their different publication years, these post-WWII textbooks are similar in their treatment of the synoptic problem. The colourful panorama has vanished in favour of a stereotypical pattern, which I outline here.

3.1.

The 2DH Pattern

a) Stereotypes of solutions with their main protagonists After the description of the synoptic problem, the proto-Gospel hypothesis (Lessing, Eichhorn), the fragments/diegeses hypothesis (Schleiermacher),57 the oral tradition hypothesis (Herder, Gieseler) and mutual dependence hypotheses (Augustinus, Griesbach, Lachmann) are mentioned. In many cases, these theories are presented as “old” or preliminary, whereas the 2DH is “of today”.58 The nuances found at the turn of the century have disappeared, as there is hardly any mention of the Greek-interpreter theory59, of their textual evidence or the subtle harmonisations with external traditions.

57

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Vielhauer, Geschichte, 266–267, criticizes the attribution to Schleiermacher and the label “diegeses”, but without further resonances except Ebner, Synoptische Frage, 73–74. E. g. Michaelis, Einleitung, 74: “Antworten, die man zunächst gegeben hat”; Marxsen, Einleitung, 102: “Ältere Lösungsversuche”; cf. also Lohse, Entstehung, 78; Vielhauer, Geschichte, 265; Schenke/Fischer, Einleitung, 15; Ebner, Synoptische Frage, 72. Knopf/Lietzmann/Weinel, Einleitung, 114, call the 2DH new solution (“neue Lösung”); Wikenhauser, Einleitung, 172, mentions the actual state of the question (“der heutige Stand der Frage”). Already Jülicher, Einleitung, 214, had used the terminology of age and progress (“die älteren Hypothesen”; “Fortschritt”). Exceptions: Michaelis, Einleitung, 76; Meinertz, Einleitung, 207; Wikenhauser/Schmid, Einleitung, 278.

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b) The 2DH as culmination point The 2DH is set apart from these theories by typography/paragraph60 and/or by a description that underscores the value of the theory. Most authors claim that the 2DH has commonly prevailed, is commonly accepted and is the best solution.61 To some, it has become more than a hypothesis.62 Only rarely do critical voices and alternative models appear.63 60

61

62

63

Cf. Knopf/Lietzmann/Weinel, Einführung, 114; Wikenhauser, Einleitung, 172; Marxsen, Einleitung, 104; Lohse, Entstehung, 79; Vielhauer, Geschichte, 268; Schenke/Fischer, Einleitung, 18; Schnelle, Einleitung, 200; Ebner, Synoptische Frage, 75. Michaelis, Einleitung, 76: “hat sich seither, wenn man von Zahn, Schlatter ua absieht, allgemein durchgesetzt als der Rahmen, innerhalb dessen die Lösung der syn Frage zu suchen ist”; Knopf/Lietzmann/Weinel, Einführung, 114: “Die Lösung des Problems, die nach langen Kämpfen der verschiedenen Anschauungen gegenwärtig in der Wissenschaft nahezu die Alleinherrschaft erlangt hat…”; Marxsen, Einleitung, 104: “heute allgemein anerkannte[n] Zweiquellentheorie”; Wikenhauser, Einleitung, 172: “fast von der gesamten nichtkatholischen Forschung der Gegenwart und in modifizierter Form, welche die altkirchliche Überlieferung gebührend berücksichtigt, auch von einer größeren Zahl von katholischen Exegeten vertreten”; Lohse, Entstehung, 79: “eine befriedigende Erklärung […] die heute nahezu allgemeine Anerkennung gefunden hat”; Wikenhauser/Schmid, Einleitung, 280: “gegenwärtig allgemein als die wenigstens bestmögliche Erklärung des syn Problems anerkannt”; Vielhauer, Geschichte, 269: “heute weitgehend anerkannt”, “keine nennenswerten Alternativen”; Kümmel, Einleitung, 22: “hat sich in den letzten hundert Jahren weite Anerkennung verschafft (auch unter kath. Forschern)“; Strecker, Literaturgeschichte, 150–151: “Lösung” (as different from the hypotheses before) “nach verbreiteter Forschungsmeinung”, “zu weitgehender Anerkennung in der neutestamentlichen Wissenschaft geführt”; Schnelle, Einleitung, 200: “Die Zweiquellentheorie endgültig durchzusetzen, gelang erst Heinrich Julius Holtzmann und Paul Wernle”; Broer, Einleitung, 44 (= Broer/Weidemann, Einleitung, 49): 2DH “heute vor allem im europäischen Raum fast einhellig oder zumindest ganz überwiegend akzeptierte Benutzungshypothese”; Theißen, Das Neue Testament, 22: “größte Wahrscheinlichkeit”; Pokorný/Heckel, Einleitung, 333: 2DH “gilt […] heute mehrheitlich als der geeignetste Ausgangspunkt für die weitere Forschung”; Dorn, Basiswissen, 45, observes that the 2DH has prevailed in German and partly in AngloAmerican contexts, but he thinks the addition of a Proto-/Deutero-Mark hypothesis is necessary (47–48). Marxsen, Einleitung, 106: “als ein gesichertes Ergebnis ansehen”; Schenke/Fischer, Einleitung, 18: “… daß der Charakter der Hypothese hier verlassen werden und man mit dieser Theorie als einem nahezu völlig gesicherten Ergebnis arbeiten kann”. I have found only three works which do not follow the mainstream: Schelkle, Einleitung, 52, only concedes that the 2DH may be basically correct, but is a simplification. Meinertz, Einleitung, 206–215, is most explicit in doubting Q. He concludes that the 2DH is not an exemplary solution, as is shown by ongoing adaption (“Auch die so weit verbreitete Zweiquellentheorie ist keine Musterlösung, wie schon die stets weitergehende Abwandlung zeigt”, 208). He wishes the Papias note to be noticed, problematizes the MAs and highlights oral tradition. Jaroš, Das Neue Testament, 35–45, thinks it impossible to cope with non-existant sources and thus refrains from discussing the traditions of the synoptic gospels. Armin Baum’s recent introduction only treats the gospels and Acts, not all the NT. Nevertheless, a brief remark on it may be in order, as in nearly 200 pages on the

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c) Arguments In most books, the main reasons for Marcan priority and the independent use of a second source are mentioned. Astonishingly, completeness of arguments is not aimed at. Some stress the dublets64, some are satisfied with the independence of Matthew and Luke65 or give only reasons for Marcan priority66. The arguments from church tradition mostly drop out of the discussion or are only stated if they fit with the 2DH67. The denominational factor has also gone, except for some who mention the decision of the Catholic Pontificial Biblical Commission.68 Only rarely are the problems of the hypothesis named. Some deal extensively with the minor agreements (MA).69 Otherwise, most of the authors are aware that the source is not existent as a tangible text70 and that there are MA, but they are optimistic in explaining them.71

64

65

66

67

68

69

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71

synoptic problem (Baum, Einleitung, 449–647), the 2DH is only one among many other hypotheses and oral tradition is strongly favoured. Cf. Wikenhauser, Einleitung, 177; Kümmel, Einleitung, 40; Vielhauer, Geschichte, 271; Schenke/Fischer, Einleitung, 19. Cf. Michaelis, Einleitung, 80; Knopf/Lietzmann/Weinel, Einführung, 116; Lohse, Entstehung 81–82, who mentions dublets only as prove of a written Q. Cf. Marxsen, Einleitung, 104; Strecker, Literaturgeschichte, 154–155; Schnelle, Einleitung, 200–206. Affirmative mentions: Albertz, Botschaft, 179; Knopf/Lietzmann/Weinel, Einführung, 117; Wikenhauser, Einleitung, 182; Roloff, Einführung, 77, in historical review; Theißen, Das Neue Testament, 24–25. Kümmel, Einleitung, 27–29, criticizes the use of the Papias argument, and Vielhauer, Geschichte, 258–263, identifies the traditions to be deductions from NT information and apologetics. Cf. Wikenhauser/Schmid, Einleitung, 279–280; Untergaßmeier, Handbuch, 102; Broer, Einleitung, 44; Broer/Weidemann, Einleitung, 49. Exception: Wikenhauser, Einleitung, 170–172, who clearly uses categorizations. Broer, Einleitung, 49–52, identifies the MA as main problem of the 2DH, but attributes it also to Neo-Griesbach; Pokorný/Heckel, Einleitung, 336–337, and Ebner, Synoptische Frage, 78–80, write a paragraph on “Einwände” or “große Schwäche”. E. g. Wikenhauser, Einleitung, 172: “nur erschlossene schriftliche Quelle”; Marxsen, Einleitung, 105: “freilich nicht erhalten, läßt sich aber – wenigstens zu einem Teil – rekonstruieren”; cf. Vielhauer, Geschichte, 269; Schenke/Fischer, Einleitung, 19.24; but cf. Broer, Einleitung, 54: “Findungsgeschichte” of Q, and more provocative Theißen, Das Neue Testament, 21: “von der kirchlichen Tradition verschwiegene Existenz”. But there are some modest voices like Wikenhauser, Einleitung, 170, or Michaelis, Einleitung, 82, who doubt that a proper solution will ever be found. Wikenhauser/Schmid, Einleitung, 289, call the MA marginal questions (“Randfragen”). Knopf/Lietzmann/Weinel, Einführung, 118–119; Lohse, Entstehung, 80; Vielhauer, Geschichte, 274; Kümmel, Einleitung, 35–37; and Schenke/Fischer, Einleitung, 23–24, discuss them not as problem of the 2DH, but in the context of Marcan priority/Proto-Mark (“Urmarkus”). Strecker, Literaturgeschichte, 153, and Schnelle, Einleitung, 206, opt for Deutero-Mark; Schnelle, Einleitung8, 215, mentions here the Farrer-Goulder and Hengel hypotheses and adds that there is no convincing explanation for the MA, that theories are incapable of explaining every detail and that things were probably more complex.

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Some authors treat contemporary alternative theories in the argumentation section, but they are all convinced that these theories cannot beat the 2DH.72 Broer strategically enters a comparsion with the Neo-Griesbach hypothesis. Ebner discusses a. o. Mark-without-Q and oral explanations. Schnelle mentions Goulder’s hypothesis already five years after its publication. In his reworked 2013 edition, he extends on it and also discusses Martin Hengel’s hypothesis, albeit in a rhetorically effective, critical manner.73 He claims that only the 2DH fulfills the criterion of intersubjectivity74 and ends with the same conclusion as in 1994, that the 2DH is explaining most of the phenomena with the least degree of complexity.75 d) Description of Q and open questions More or less lengthy is the description of Q, which follows next.76 In this descriptive part, the open questions and the actual research positions are also mentioned.77 Typical topics are content, limitations, versions, redactions, relation to Mark, possibility of reconstruction of wording and sequence, genre and analogies, purpose and setting, as well as theology. As it seems, it is this last

72

73

74

75

76

77

Cf. Vielhauer, Geschichte, 276–278; Schenke/Fischer, Einleitung, 31–33; Strecker, Literaturgeschichte, 154; Schnelle, Einleitung, 210–214, reworked in Schnelle, Einleitung8, 215.235–242; Broer, Einleitung, 43–52; Ebner, Synoptische Frage, 80–82; Broer/Weidemann, Einleitung, 58–59, mentions the Mark-without-Q and Marcion’s proto-gospel hypotheses. While, according to Schnelle, Einleitung8, 241, the 2DH is free from judgment (“wertneutral”), the others have very subjective attitudes (“sehr subjektive Einschätzungen”). Schnelle calls them destruction theory (“Zerschlagungstheorie”) or ignorance theory (“Ignorierungstheorie”). Schnelle, Einleitung8, 242: “Von allen Theorien zum synoptischen Problem erfüllt allein die Zweiquellentheorie das maßgebliche Kriterium wissenschaftlicher Arbeit: intersubjektive Plausibilität und Nachprüfbarkeit …”. It is “… bereits über einen sehr langen Zeitraum […] von der überwiegenden Zahl der Exegeten auf der ganzen Welt anerkannt und bei ihrer Arbeit angewandt”, in spite of its “zweifellos vorhandenen Schwachstellen”. In a footnote (242, no. 115) he mentions “alle führenden Kommentarreihen der Welt”. Schnelle, Einleitung, 214, and Einleitung8, 242: “Ausgangspunkt der synoptischen Frage wird daher wie bisher die Zweiquellentheorie sein müssen, auch wenn sie im Einzelfall weniger mechanisch als in ihrer Anfangszeit angewendet werden sollte. Sie ist nach wie vor die Hypothese, die mit dem geringsten Schwierigkeitsgrad die meisten Phänomene erklärt.” This is quoted by Ebner, Synoptische Frage, 83. Cf. also Pokorný/Heckel, Einleitung, 337; Broer/Weidemann, Einleitung, 39; already Vielhauer, Geschichte, 269. Exceptions: Michaelis, Einleitung, 80, has a short paragraph in his chapter on preliminary collections, cf. Marxsen, Einleitung, 115–116. Broer, Einleitung, 54–72; Schnelle, Einleitung, 214–233; Ebner, Spruchquelle, add a chapter on Q like those on the Gospels with introductory questions. Albertz, Botschaft, 173–179, simply describes it among the gospel sources as if existing, without discussing the synoptic question.

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part where the opinions differ and progress is to be made, while the 2DH is firmly established. Not always is this complete pattern used. There are abbreviated treatments that do not discuss alternative hypotheses, but are similarly convinced of the 2DH. Their shortness is due to concept and space, as some of them are as ambitious as to present all relevant NT knowledge, including history and methodology, in one volume. Some are on a par with the longer introductions,78 and some briefly mention the quality of the hypothesis.79

3.2.

Strategies of Presenting the 2DH Pattern

Some observations on didactic strategies can be made for the mainstream view. a) Factual treatment and description Some introductory textbooks indicate by optical devices that the 2DH is favoured. As mentioned before, some highlight the 2DH in typography. Others visualize only the 2DH in a drawing80 and thus create a powerful icon that can easily be remembered. Moreover, the description of Q turns into indicative. Q “is” as if it existed, and it is described in length and detail in its content, theology, even redactional stages. After so much being said and learnt about Q, the doubts about its existence would probably have vanished.

78

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Bornkamm, Bibel, 35, skips the other solutions as inadequate (“unzureichend[en]”) and claims that today, the 2DH is well founded and nearly commonly accepted; Köster, Einführung, 478: 2DH “hat sich in der Forschung des 20. Jh., von einigen Ausnahmen abgesehen, weithin durchgesetzt, ist allerdings auch in jüngster Zeit nicht unbestritten geblieben”; Untergaßmeier, Handbuch, 98–105, mentions some alternative concepts, as well was modifications and unsolved problems of the 2DH, but writes that the hypothesis prevailed in exegetical reserach (102). Roloff, Einführung, 74, speaks of a discovery (“Entdeckung”) of Q. Alkier, Neues Testament, 66, thinks Q is necessary: “Es muß eine den Evangelisten Matthäus und Lukas gemeinsame Überlieferung gegeben haben. Wir nennen sie Spruchquelle”; Kollmann, Neues Testament, 125, calls the 2DH widely accepted solution (“weithin anerkannte Lösung”). Roose, Neues Testament, 30, is the most critical when she names it exegetical majority view (“exegetische Mehrheitsmeinung”), but hypothetical and causing problems (31). Schweizer, Einleitung, 39, names 2DH as the simplest assumption (“einfachste Annahme”); Feldmeier, Evangelien, 84: 2 DH “am besten”, as it proves the test astonishingly well (“Hypothese, die sich allerdings immer wieder erstaunlich gut bewährt”); Schreiber, Begleiter, 36, attributes to it the highest plausibility (“größte Plausibilität”), cf. 38: best explanation (“beste Erklärung”, like Bormann, Neues Testament, 37). Already Sickenberger, Einleitung, 71, with a Greek proto-Matthew instead of Q; Wikenhauser, Einleitung, 182; Marxsen, Einleitung, 106; Schnelle, Einleitung, 209; Theißen, Das Neue Testament, 22; Dorn, Basiswissen, 46–48 (with Proto-/Deutero-Mark). There may be some variants, but the core of the 2DH is maintained.

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b) The progress claim Another trait of contemporary mainstream introductions is the progress claim. It can be seen in descriptions where the alternative theories are subsumed under “old” and the 2DH is “of today”. Astonishingly, some introductions also use terminology of power, such as prevail (“durchgesetzt”)81, once even “struggles” or victory (“Sieg“)82. This implies that the 2DH has now brought peace, making it very attractive and hard to attack. c) The majority/consensus claim The appeal to majority was already made by v. Soden, and as the testimonies from the last seventy years show, it is familiar. The most active is Schnelle, who refers to acceptance and application over a very long time span by the overwhelming majority of the exegetes all around the world, also to all leading commentary series in the world.83 Here, some insights from social psychology might be helpful: In experiments,84 it could be demonstrated that human beings are inclined to show consensus and conformity not only in unclear situations. One third of the participants in an experiment by Asch (1953) also showed conformity in a situation where the majority was clearly wrong. The majority opinion seems to create a certain stress on people. It appeals to the human need of social belonging,85 and also to the avoidance of negative consequences from significant others or a group. Moreover, the majority opinion seems to be trustworthy.86 Perhaps most of the NT scholars were not aware of this psychological context when they were writing their introductions. Perhaps they were aware of the old reproach of the chaos theory and thus tried to stress consensus. However, having majority pressure phenomena in mind, it does not seem very helpful to repeat this motive of presentation. Apart from that, the majority cannot be properly stated, as the complete output of NT scholarship cannot be reasonably surveyed. Especially in 81

82 83 84

85

86

In addition to the quotations in notes 61 and 78, cf. also e. g. Wikenhauser/Schmid, Einleitung, 279; Vielhauer, Geschichte, 268–269; Schenke/Fischer, Einleitung, 29; Broer, Einleitung, 44; Theißen, Das Neue Testament, 22. Knopf/Lietzmann/Weinel, Einführung, 114; Wikenhauser/Schmid, Einleitung, 280. Cf. above note 74. For the experiments of Sherif (unclear situation) and Asch (clear situation) cf. Erb, Majoritäten, 91–92; he names further studies which confirm the results (93). For Sherif cf. also French e. a., Realität, 133–134. For the theory of a need for social sharing of our views which makes things trustworthy to the individual cf. French e. a., Realität, 130–131 (theory), 136–137 (motivational factors) and 151 (group norms by frequency). Cf. Erb, Majoritäten, 92 for the concept of normative and informational conformity developed by Deutsch/Gerard, and 94–96 for the reasons of conformity. According to other tests, the positive evaluation is only effective if majority priming happens before argumentation and majority opinions are better remembered if the conflict is less strong, cf. Erb, Majoritäten, 95–96.

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times of digital humanities, control might evade in favour of personal impression. If there is an argument from intersubjectivity or multiple acceptance, it would be stronger if it could be stated that many scholars with different study settings each reach the same conclusion.

3.3.

Conclusion

What may the students have learnt during the last 70 years? That the 2DH is the most important theory by way of treatment, that it is up to date and that there is some kind of consensus. They may have learnt to evaluate internal evidence. With regards to their exams, they not only know what their professors wish to hear, but what the mainstream says. However, would they be competent to present all kinds of evidence and discuss the matter with their British or American study buddies who have grown up with the Mark-without-Q hypothesis? This international question leads to a reflection on teaching the 2DH in times of Bologna.

4.

Teaching the Synoptic Problem in the Bologna Era: Chances and Challenges

After this short guided tour through history, it has become evident how important it is to practise fair teaching, leaving aside the tricky pitfalls of polemics, one-sidedness, incompleteness, majority moves or even identity creation. To avoid them means to teach “good scientific practice”, which all our students need. On the positive side, there is much more to be learnt from teaching the 2DH, which makes it a valuable topic of academic studies. a) Competences Since the turn of the millennium, academic teaching in European countries takes place in the framework of the Bologna process. Its aim is to establish structures for successful education by European cooperation. One of the main catchwords of the process is “orientation towards competences” (Kompetenzorientierung). Namely, the aim of academic studies is not to accumulate knowledge in memory, but to enable students to act in (future) situations by use of their knowledge87 and skills.88 87 88

Knowledge needs to be related to the context, cf. Becker, Grundanliegen, 100. The discussion on the definition of competences is infinite. Therefore, I will confine myself to the most basic concept of competences as ability to cope with challenges

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For many students in the last 70 years, the 2DH may have come as accumulated basic knowledge to be learnt by heart. At best, the 2DH knowledge was part of the competence to interpret Matthew’s and Luke’s texts later on. However, focussing on competences shows that there is much more in teaching the 2DH. Important competences for problem solution can be trained if the 2DH is not only presented, but studied from scratch in its complexity: – As the textual base is essential for judgment, synoptic comparison first trains awareness of details in a text and description in meta-language. – To visualize and to group the different theories trains analytical faculties. – To discuss pros and cons trains critical thinking. In terms of the famous competence taxonomy by Bloom, these competences overarch the basic step of “learning for knowing”. They presuppose understanding, then analytics as the first step of transfer.89 They can equally be applied to the other bones of contention of NT introduction like the relation between John and the Synoptics or the identification of pseudepigraphy. The main challenge will be to develop teaching settings that work in the curricular limits of time. b) Relevance A second challenge of teaching the synoptic question is its relevance. The times have gone by where it was a major point of denominational conflict or where students were existentially challenged by life of Jesus studies. However, there may exist a chance to connect the synoptic question to some deeper underlying questions. The question of unity in difference is virulent in other respects, among denominations and religions, and the Synoptics can be an example of difference in unity, of modified theological options answering to real life situations. They can be an example of modesty against all efforts of absolutism. They demonstrate the limitations of human perception of even the Son of God. c) What is a good theory? Finally, more basic questions lie at the ground of learning lessons on Q, questions any university graduate, and especially any theologian should have faced during his or her studies. Perhaps they commend themselves for some interdisciplinary encounter with the colleagues from the Philosophy department. The questions are: What is a good theory? And what do I believe from whom and why? As theories are everywhere, it is important to tell theory from data and finally to

89

(“Fähigkeit, im weitesten Sinne mit bestimmten Herausforderungen umzugehen”, Becker, Grundanliegen, 97). Cf. also Reis, Sinn, 112 with three definitions of “Handlungs/Problemlösungskompetenz”. For the Bloom taxonomy and application on theological examples cf. Becker, Grundanliegen, 101–102.

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make responsible decisions. There will be ample room for useful application of this question, not only in theology.

Bibliography Introductions (19th/early 20th century) Barth, F., Einleitung in das Neue Testament, Gütersloh 1908. Belser, J., Einleitung in das Neue Testament, Freiburg i. Br. 1901. Cornely, R., Historica et critica introductio in u. t. libros sacros: Vol. III: Introductio specialis in singulos Novi Testamenti libros (CSS Pars prior: Libri introductorii 3), Paris 21897. Cornely, R., Historicae et criticae introductionis in u. t. libros sacros compendium s. theologiae auditoribus accomodatum, Paris 1889. Gutjahr, F. S., Einleitung zu den heiligen Schriften des Neuen Testamentes: Lehrbuch zunächst für Studierende der Theologie, Graz 21905. Holtzmann, H. J., Lehrbuch der historisch-kritischen Einleitung in das Neue Testament, Freiburg i. Br. 31892. Hug, J. L., Einleitung in die Schriften des Neuen Testaments: Zweiter Theil, Stuttgart 41847. Jülicher, A., Einleitung in das Neue Testament (Grundriss der theologischen Wissenschaften 3,1), Freiburg i. Br. 1,21894 [notes: Jülicher, Einleitung]. Jülicher, A., Einleitung in das Neue Testament (Grundriss der theologischen Wissenschaften 3,1), Tübingen 3,41901 [notes: Jülicher, Einleitung3,4]. Kaulen, F., Einleitung in die Heilige Schrift Alten und Neuen Testaments (ThBib), Freiburg i. Br. 41898. Kaulen, F., Kurze Einleitung in die Heilige Schrift des Alten und Neuen Testaments (Kurzes Biblisches Handbuch 1), Freiburg i. Br. 1897. Langen, J., Grundriss der Einleitung in das Neue Testament, Freiburg i. Br. 1868. Maier, A., Einleitung in die Schriften des Neuen Testaments, Freiburg i. Br. 1852. Reithmayr, F. X., Einleitung in die canonischen Bücher des neuen Bundes, Regensburg 1852. Schaefer, A., Einleitung in das Neue Testament (WH.T 15), Paderborn 1898. Sickenberger, J., Kurzgefasste Einleitung in das Neue Testament (HTG), Freiburg i. Br. 3,41925. Soden, H. Frhr. v., Urchristliche Literaturgeschichte (die Schriften des Neuen Testaments), Berlin 1905. Trenkle, F. S., Einleitung in das Neue Testament, Freiburg i. Br. 1897. Zahn, T., Einleitung in das Neue Testament, Vol. 2, Leipzig 1899. Zahn, T., Grundriß der Einleitung in das Neue Testament, Leipzig 1928.

Introductions (post WWII) Albertz, M., Die Botschaft des Neuen Testamentes: Vol. 1: Die Entstehung der Botschaft/1. Halbband: Die Entstehung des Evangeliums, Zollikon-Zürich 1947. Alkier, S., Neues Testament (UTB 3404), Tübingen 2010. Baum, A. D., Einleitung in das Neue Testament. Evangelien und Apostelgeschichte, Gießen 2017. Bormann, L., Neues Testament (Theologie kompakt/CTB 93), Stuttgart 2003. Bornkamm, G., Bibel: Das Neue Testament: Eine Einführung in seine Schriften im Rahmen der Geschichte des Urchristentums (ThTh 9), Stuttgart 1971. Broer, I., Einleitung in das Neue Testament (NEB.NTE 2/I), Würzburg 1998.

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Broer, I./Weidemann, H.-U., Einleitung in das Neue Testament, Würzburg 42016. Dorn, K., Basiswissen Bibel: Das Neue Testament (UTB 4384), Paderborn 2016. Ebner, M., Die synoptische Frage, in: M. Ebner/S. Schreiber (ed.), Einleitung in das Neue Testament (KThSt 6), Stuttgart 2008, 67–84. Ebner, M., Die Spruchquelle Q, in: M. Ebner/S. Schreiber (ed.), Einleitung in das Neue Testament (KThSt 6), Stuttgart 2008, 85–111. Feldmeier, R., Die synoptischen Evangelien, in: K.-W. Niebuhr (ed.), Grundinformation Neues Testament: Eine bibelkundlich-theologische Einführung (UTB 2108), Göttingen 2000, 75–142. Jaroš, K., Das Neue Testament und seine Autoren: Eine Einführung (UTB 3087), Köln 2008. Knopf, R./Lietzmann, H./Weinel, H., Einführung in das Neue Testament: Bibelkunde des Neuen Testaments – Geschichte und Religion des Urchristentums (STö.T 2), Berlin 51949. Kollmann, B., Neues Testament kompakt, Stuttgart 2014. Köster, H., Einführung in das Neue Testament im Rahmen der Religionsgeschichte und Kulturgeschichte der hellenistischen und römischen Zeit (GLB), Berlin 1980. Kümmel, W. G., Einleitung in das Neue Testament, Heidelberg 191978. Lohse, E., Die Entstehung des Neuen Testaments (ThW 4), Stuttgart 1972. Marxsen, W., Einleitung in das Neue Testament: Eine Einführung in ihre Probleme, Gütersloh 1963. Meinertz, M., Einleitung in das Neue Testament (Wh.T 15), Paderborn 51950. Michaelis, W., Einleitung in das Neue Testament: Die Entstehung, Sammlung und Ueberlieferung der Schriften des Neuen Testaments, Bern 1946. Pokorný, P./Heckel, U., Einleitung in das Neue Testament: Seine Literatur und Theologie im Überblick (UTB 2798), Tübingen 2007. Roloff, J., Einführung in das Neue Testament, Stuttgart 22003. Roose, H., Neues Testament (Module der Theologie 2), Gütersloh 2009. Schelkle, K. H., Das Neue Testament: Seine literarische und theologische Geschichte (BTG 2), Kevelaer 3 1966. Schenke, H. M./Fischer, K. M., Einleitung in die Schriften des Neuen Testaments: Vol. 2: Die Evangelien und die anderen neutestamentlichen Schriften, Gütersloh 1979. Schnelle, U., Einleitung in das Neue Testament (UTB 1830), Göttingen 1994 [notes: Schnelle, Einleitung]. Schnelle, U., Einleitung in das Neue Testament (UTB 1830), Göttingen 82013 [notes: Schnelle, Einleitung8]. Schreiber, S., Begleiter durch das Neue Testament, Düsseldorf 2006. Schweizer, E., Theologische Einleitung in das Neue Testament (GNT/NTD 2), Göttingen 1989. Strecker, G., Literaturgeschichte des Neuen Testaments (UTB 1682), Göttingen 1992. Theißen, G., Das Neue Testament (C. H. Beck Wissen), München 2002. Untergaßmair, F. G., Handbuch der Einleitung: Vol. 1: Evangelien und Apostelgeschichte (VBT 4,1), Kevelaer 1998. Vielhauer, P., Geschichte der urchristlichen Literatur: Einleitung in das Neue Testament, die Apokryphen und die Apostolischen Väter (GLB), Berlin 1975. Wikenhauser, A., Einleitung in das Neue Testament, Freiburg i. Br. 51963. Wikenhauser, A./Schmid, J., Einleitung in das Neue Testament, Freiburg i. Br. 61973.

Other References Becker, P., Das Grundanliegen der Studienreform, in: P. Becker (ed.), Studienreform in der Theologie: Eine Bestandsaufnahme (Theologie und Hochschuldidaktik 2), Berlin 2011, 94–107. Erb, H.-P., Majoritäten und Minoritäten, in: H.-W. Bierhoff/D. Frey (ed.), Kommunikation, Interaktion und soziale Gruppenprozesse (EPs C IV 3), Göttingen 2017, 83–107.

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French, C. e. a., Sozial geteilte Realität: Wie wir uns in der Interaktion mit unseren Mitmenschen unsere Welt erschaffen, in: H.-W. Bierhoff/D. Frey (ed.), Kommunikation, Interaktion und soziale Gruppenprozesse (EPs C IV 3), Göttingen 2017, 129–161. Klauck, H.-J., Art. Jülicher, Adolf, in: BBK 3 (1992) 772f. Madey, J., Art. Kaulen, Franz Philipp, in: BBK 3 (1992) 1250. Merk, O., Art. Holtzmann, Heinrich Julius (1832–1910), in: TRE 15 (1986) 519–522. Netzel, J./Braun, S./Frey, D., Macht: Grundlagen, Folgen und Prozesse eines komplexen Phänomens, in: H.-W. Bierhoff/D. Frey (ed.), Kommunikation, Interaktion und soziale Gruppenprozesse (EPs C IV 3), Göttingen 2017, 493–542. N.N., Art. Cornely, Karl Joseph Rudolf, in: BBK 1 (without year number) 1132. Reis, O., Sinn und Umsetzung der Kompetenzorientierung. Lehre “von hinten” denken, in: P. Becker (ed.), Studienreform in der Theologie: Eine Bestandsaufnahme (Theologie und Hochschuldidaktik 2), Berlin 2011, 108–127. Schmidt, E. D., “… das Wort Gottes immer mehr zu lieben”: Joseph Ratzingers Bibelhermeneutik im Kontext der Exegesegeschichte der römisch-katholischen Kirche (SBS 233), Stuttgart 2015. Steins, G., Sozialpsychologie des Schulalltags: Vol. 1: Grundlagen und Anwendungen, Lengerich 2 2014. Unterburger, K., Papst Leo XIII: Enzyklika Providentissimus Deus (1893), in: O. Wischmeyer (ed.), Handbuch der Bibelhermeneutiken: Von Origenes bis zur Gegenwart, Berlin 2016, 583–592.

 

The Quest for the Historical Jesus and Q in the View of Systematic Theology Ralf Miggelbrink

1.

Thesis

At the end of the 19th century, a conflict arose that is still neither solved nor overcome. It refers to the inner constitution of the Christian faith. In this conflict the fundamental tension within Christian faith finds a reflection: When Albert Schweitzer and Johannes Weiß published their results of research on the historical Jesus, they opposed a pietistic view on Jesus but also a traditional Lutheran-orthodox one. Their central issue of Jesus as a preacher of God’s kingdom derived from a merely historical look on Jesus.1 It really did not fit to the Christological idea of Jesus as the self-revelation of the Eternal God. It was even less compatible to the conviction of Jesus as the incarnation of an inner divine hypostasis. The idea of describable historical and political aims striven for by finite humans with expectations and hopes due to the contingencies of their lifetime and historical époque is hard to be reconciled with the idea of the one and only Son of God who brings knowledge from the very heart of the Eternal Himself and His Tripersonal Life. This gap between faith and dogmatics on the one hand and historical research on the other hand has inescapable methodical reasons: historical research in principle cannot become aware of the strictly unique because historical categories of perception are all based on the idea that the particular is to be understood as an example of the general. The strictly unique is historically invisible. Systematic theology can quickly respond to this insight. They might say: It is quite nice to know all the knowledge which historical research can investigate on the historical figure of Jesus, but were former generations of Christians less redeemed by Christ, because they simply did not know all this knowledge about him? And if they were redeemed by Christ although they did not know the results of the critical exegesis on Jesus, this research, in conclusion, is most probably not that important for faith and salvation.2 So why should we worry 1 2

Albert Schweitzer, Reich Gottes, 36. So one may argue with Vincent of Lérins: A content that is believed by every Christian since forever cannot be untrue (Commonitoria 2, 5).

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about it? It is always disturbing to talk about Jesus as if he were an average man of his time. Let us talk about Jesus not in terms of historical descriptions, which necessarily see him as one example of historical phenomena. But let us understand Jesus in terms of rational necessity. In this way, his divine uniqueness might be explainable.3 Of course, Anselm was right with his clear perception that guilt cannot be pardoned without compensation. Otherwise justice would enduringly be injured.4 This appears to be an insight of reason itself and therefore it cannot be subjected to historical changes. Reason itself survives the changes of time. So a theologian might be tempted to raise a methodical principle: Look for those truths of reason, which do not underlie the contingencies of the historical phenomena of Jesus as a historical figure! Do not care too much and too long about all the historical circumstances, ideas and conceptions! They are probably nice to know, but finally not really crucial! Do not concentrate on these stories from Q and St. Marc, but meditate the metaphysical truth of Jesus following the ideas of St. John! A philosopher might say: A rationally correct insight is worth to be respected by every rational being despite of its historical origin. Even rational beings from the outer space of the universe, who do not know anything about our world and human history, would be forced to agree to a rational insight due to the fact that it is a rational insight. So if Jesus is the Son of God, he is the Revelator of Divine Truth. Consequently, the validity of his teachings and life is proofed by human rationality. Validity is not a function of historical genesis but of rational acceptance. A truth is true despite of who might tell the truth. So why care so much about the origins of biblical truths? They are true because of their truth and not because of their origin. The invincible truth of Jesus Christ, the Redeemer, is more in danger to be beclouded by all this information on the historical circumstances of its appearing in history. These objections sound really aged and overcome. Indeed, they were mighty during the 19th and even during the first half of the 20th century. They are lasting in the famous work ‘Theologische Anthropologie’5 by Thomas Pröpper, which is indeed nothing less than a whole dogmatic of the Christian faith from a point of view called ‘anthropological’. It aims at nothing else but a deduction of Christ as a rational necessity far from historical contingency. For Pröpper, ‘anthropological’ is to be understood as a transcendental deduction of the necessity of salvation and the fact of salvation and the means of salvation from a philosophical analysis of man: Man as the being of freedom, which differs from 3

4 5

This is the path of every “transcendental Christology” that deduces the historical appearance of Christ as a necessity from the transcendental analysis of man. This method e.g. grounds the aversion of Vittorio Hösle against the historical critical method of exegesis (Hösle, Philosophy). Anselm of Canterbury, Cur Deus homo, cap. 3. Pröpper, Theologische Anthropologie.

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all other beings by this experience of being free to decide, to act and to develop oneself, is inescapably not only threatened by guilt. Man is, in fact, guilty because of not treating his co-humans like beings of freedom but misusing them as instruments for self-assertion. The coming of Christ brings message from the very heart of God in his inner Trinitarian Community: God Himself is deliberate love, and therefore He accepts man as the being that is another being to God in that love which is the mystery of God’s Tripersonal inner Life. So is it important that the Messenger of Salvation coming from God is born in Israel within the Roman Empire? Maybe one might deduce an importance of these facts by reflecting on the conditions for the possibility of this divine knowledge to arrive at every human’s ear. One might even deduce a necessity for the divine messenger to be crucified from this basic idea of Christ being the one who brings knowledge from the inner life of God and God’s free decisions. It may even be that the confession of Nikaia could be deduced from the function of Christ for the Salvation of man, which demands that He is really God from God, who, therefore, is the only one who can redeem human individuals by forgiving human sin. Thomas Pröpper deduces every element of classical Christology from Christ’s redeeming function. This argument led to the Confession of Nikaia. From Nikaia, Pröpper strives straight to a Neo-Calcedonian reading of incarnation as coming out of the Trinitarian community. With Hans Urs von Balthasar he asserts: One out of the Trinity brought knowledge about God forgiving all sin. The price Pröpper pays for this clear concept is radical disinterest in Jesus as a historical person. Only His redeeming message from the heart of the Trinitarian God legitimates God’s acceptance of a human figure as a modal necessity. Following along these lines, one might also deduce other historical circumstances by, for example, following St. Augustin, who declared: In order to reach mankind, the redeeming messenger ought to be born within the people of ethical insight. Those are the Jews. And he also ought to be born within the Roman Empire, which provided opportunity of global distribution for the redeeming word of God.

2.

Antithesis

The antithesis to Pröpper’s concept also is a modern concept. It is a result of the religious movement of the “devotio moderna” within the context of Reformation and Counter-Reformation. Especially the Jesuit movement stimulated the religious interest in Jesus as a human person. Jesus is not only crucified, but he is tortured and he suffers, he cries loudly and he prays to God not to let him be decayed. He is seen trembling for fear by his disciples.

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The Muslim reading of the Gospel suppresses these unendurable records about the passion of Jesus: Jesus does not suffer. God replaces his messenger by something nowadays called “Avatar”, which just looks like Jesus and only takes his place to demonstrate God’s love, but not really to suffer.6 The Christian discussion on the suffering of Jesus lasted up to the 6th century. The climax of this conflict is marked by the torture and execution of Maximus Confessor, wo died because he insisted on the idea that Christ actually suffered and was afraid, that he really felt human feelings. According to Maximus, although Jesus has been inspired by God totally and enduringly, although he has been God Himself – who cannot suffer since he is God himself – Jesus suffered and cried for fear.7 This conviction of the dyo-theletists is a consequence of the specific Latin view on the incarnation. The human nature of Christ remains a human nature also within the Hypostatic Union. In principle, this teaching has been accepted by most Eastern Churches at the council of Chalcedon. But, in fact, a difference of mentality remained between East and West: Most Eastern Churches stress the Divine Nature and the role of Jesus as a Messenger from God. The Latin Church, however, showed a stunning interest on the heroic life of Jesus. A heroic life demands a free will. A heroic life is embedded in social and historical circumstances.8 From the 12th century on, the western focus on the humanity of Jesus arrives at a new climax through the development of western painting influenced by the mendicant orders of the Dominicans and the Franciscans. This new way of painting promotes the perspective of Jesus as a human. He is no longer painted in the way of an icon, but perspective is integrated in the new kind of painting. The frescos of Giotto or Fra Angelico do not only show a Holy Face (un sacra volta), but they tell a vivid story: Not only the face of Christ is depicted, but Jesus is coming along with his disciples, obviously discussing with them, gesticulating like a teacher, touching the people whom he heals and – of cause – moving within a landscape. This way, perspective painting had been discovered. This focus on the human life of Jesus led to a concentration on human feelings and experiences within the life of Jesus. But how can we reconcile the ideas of Divine knowledge directly stemming from God with a real human life of learning, discussing and teaching? How can we understand the relation between the knowledge of Jesus that directly stems from God and the knowledge which Jesus had to achieve by learning? Jesus was a real human being. In this respect, he – of course – had to learn things. However, is this true also for religious knowledge? Jesus is introduced to us by St John as permanently speaking to his Divine Father. Is it imaginable that this Son of God had been taught to pray by his Jewish 6 7 8

Schwager, Dogma und dramatische Geschichte, 221–296. Schwager, Der wunderbare Tausch, 135–160. Schwager, Dogma und dramatische Geschichte, 221–296.

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mother? Is it possible that Jesus had to consider the social, political and religious situations in his lifetime to find his own positions? Did Jesus depend on information, and where did he obtain it? Were religious information and discussions important for Jesus to find his own position? How can ideas like this be combined with the idea of Jesus as the self-revelation of God? Abaelard was the first to treat this question in his famous work “Sic et Non”: he distinguishes between immanent Divine knowledge and such knowledge that can only be achieved by learning because it is specifically human knowledge. Specifically human knowledge is not only a known content but also knowledge about how the known content arrived at its subject by observation, by reflection or by consideration. Human knowledge is biographically, socially and historically achieved knowledge. Human knowledge is knowledge in personal, historical and social contexts. We do not only know things, but we know that we know and how we arrived to know and with whom we share our knowledge. And this knowing of the way to knowledge belongs to our human knowledge. And, of course, this is a relevant difference to God’s omniscience. God’s omniscience is intuitive and simultaneous.9 The doctor subtilis, Alexander of Hales denominated five different kinds of knowledge to differentiate between the Divine and the human knowledge of Jesus.10 Albert Magnus discusses a verse from St. Luke where Luke speaks about the increasing wisdom of the young adolescent Jesus: “Jesus increased in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man.” (Lk 2,52). But how can the Incarnated Divine Word and Wisdom increase in Jesus? The solution that Albert the Great found to answer this question paves the way for St. Thomas Aquinas: Jesus – in so far He is God – knew everything. He nevertheless can grow in his human way of knowing by acquiring new modes of knowing. St. Thomas Aquinas conceptualizes this idea in a consequently Aristotelian way: The knowledge infused by God into Jesus (scientia infusa) is not defined knowledge, but the intellectual enabling to generate knowledge in a human way. The scientia infusa enables Jesus to achieve knowledge as scientia acquisita in a human way.11 This concept leads Thomas to parallelize the way in which Jesus has a privileged knowledge to the way in which Christians, influenced by the Grace of God, gain knowledge. This is really stunning, because it implies a solution of the problem how the omniscient Son of God can live as a human being, learning during his lifetime. Consequently, the Divine omniscience in which Jesus participates can imply the necessity to make experience and progress despite of the Divine Perfection, which consequently is misunderstood as knowledge of everything. Divine omniscience rather appears as the ability of God to view everything

9 10 11

Müller, Wissen Jesu. L.c., 570. L.c., 574.

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in the right way. This right or proper way can be determined also by human freedom and history.

3.

Synthesis

St. Thomas leads to a solution that has been explained by Karl Rahner: Incarnated Divine Omniscience does not definitely mean knowing all, but being able to understand everything in the right way. God Incarnate generates knowledge like every man, by observing, thinking, discussing. God Incarnate generates knowledge in a human way. Divine is this knowledge of God Incarnate not because it is perfect and non-gradable, but because the human root of gaining knowledge within Jesus is heeled and perfected by the Grace of God. This reconstruction of the knowledge of Jesus Christ leads to a parallelization of the Hypostatic Union with Uncreated Grace. Of course this is a very Catholic idea: the principle of Incarnation is God’s Holy Spirit, who inspires the man from Nazareth and makes him see the world with the eyes of God. Thereby, Jesus develops a divine ability of judging human and historical situations in a way that is totally fitting to Divine inspiration – despite of his human nature. If, however, it is the Holy Spirit that works this presence of God in the man from Nazareth, and if the Holy Spirit is, thus, working in Jesus, he can also do so with what the scholastic theologians called ‘Uncreated Grace’. Consequently, Jesus appears as a model for other humans. Other humans, too, might hope and pray that they by the Grace of God in His Holy Spirit might become children of God, revealing how God sees this world and how God acts in this world. In this context, the words of St. Paul appear as a Divine program of salvation: Jesus appears as the πρωτό-τοκος, the firstborn, among many brothers and sisters’ (Rom 8:29).12 Of course, this conclusion goes too far. The ineradicable corruption of human cognition and thought by man’s sin must be considered. The idea of God incarnating not only in Jesus Christ but principally and potentially in all humans does not necessarily lead to these ecumenically controversial ideas of human holiness and the Holy Church as the enduring Divine Incarnation. A principal and potential presence of God in every human in a way comparable to the divine presence in Christ neither amounts to a real presence nor to a presence of God that is given to the individual as a kind of property. It is rather a Divine offer to the individual to realize within his biography and historical situation an actualization of the knowledge and intuition of Jesus of Nazareth. In the concept of Thomas Pröpper, salvation works in a quite protestant way. It is the faithful who is redeemed just by accepting the Redeemer’s word in 12

Rahner, Begrifflichkeit.

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faith. And God’s redeeming word is His promise: I shall always love thee sinner despite of your sin. To bring you this knowledge, I became human and became crucified. In the concept I hereby propose, salvation is to be understood as a process that is initiated by God and that proceeds by way of divine-human cooperation: God inspires and motivates human beings, who nevertheless have to realize their context in order to find answers to their social and historical situations that are inspired by the Spirit of God, who also inspired Jesus.

4.

Consequences

With regard to the historical investigation of Jesus of Nazareth, the concept that I propose has consequences: If Jesus realized his being God Incarnate by learning, understanding, discussing, and acquiring knowledge, it really cannot be the Inerrant Divine Perfection which shows the Divinity of Christ. It is rather the way how Jesus as a human being acquires knowledge. This way of perceiving his situation, this way of ignoring simple prejudices, this way of daring to think in unusual ways is inspired by God, who removes human fear and striving for security. Thereby, Jesus gained the ability to understand his situation by understanding the intentions of God intimately. Jesus perceives, thinks and decides in a human way that is inspired by God. The scholastic identification of the Grace of Incarnation with the Grace of Sanctification aims at this idea of Jesus as a model of a redeemed life. It is not only the word of forgiving, which Christians might hear, when being confronted with Jesus. The way Jesus is behaving and interacting is interesting, because he is a model for every human to follow his way and thereby to cooperate with the Redeemer to achieve eschatological Redemption at last by the Grace of God. Before the Second Vatican Council we used to have Sunday mass readings from the Holy Gospels stories about Jesus the healer and miracle worker. The sub-text of this selection was the thesis: Look, the miracles show the Divine Nature of the Redeemer, who, therefore, is really able to redeem us! Since the Second Vatican Council, the selection of Gospels to be read within the Celebration of the Holy Eucharist has widely broadened. It is more guided by an interest in the question: What happens, when God lives within historically determined circumstances together with fellow-people within our world? How far can we follow him? Where can his decisions and considerations work as a model for his followers? Does the way how Jesus thinks, talks and acts reveal patterns to give us orientation for designing our own lives? These questions aim to overcome the historical gap. But the overcoming of a historical difference demands an utter interest in historical differences.

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Remembering St. Francis of Assisi might illustrate the meaning of this distinction. Francis is enthusiastic about the idea of following Jesus. His first attempt is to imitate the practise described in the mission instructions of Q.13 Preaching like the wandering prophets might even have been a meaningful option in the political, economical and ecclesiastical situation of the 13th century: In contrast to the flourishing wealth of northern Italian agriculture and merchandising, the wandering prophets of St Francis bring to mind a totally different way of living as being inspired by God. The social and economical alternative appears as being inspired by God. However, this concept of an alternative way of living would have been pure romanticism if it had not discovered deeper insights underlying the external imitation of a biblical lifestyle. A theologically profound meaning of ‘following Jesus’ is not sufficiently determined by the idea of imitating Jesus and his disciples. The famous book of Thomas a Kempis is very far from an instruction for imitation, although it is named “De imitatione Christi”. But Thomas does not at all try to imitate Jesus like St. Francis in his early attempts. Thomas a Kempis wanted to translate the underlying ideas of Jesus into the life of a flourishing Dutch town of the 15th century. This is really a risky path: Up to the present, Western Christianity is inspired by this idea of translation. The books by Karl Adam (1876–1966)14 and Romano Guardini (1885–1968)15 have been very influential. Especially Karl Adam is obviously inspired by the ideas of fascism when designing his picture of Jesus to be followed. His emphasis on the bodily strength of Jesus is also a negative reflex on the former focus on the mild and gentle Lord especially in the 19th century. Karl Barth has claimed that our images of God and the Divine is always inspired by our own ideas, believes and ideals. He even agrees with Ludwig Feuerbach, who rejects all religious ideas as human projection.16 How can there be a Divine Revelation breaking through the closed domes of our own religious ideas? How could God himself arrive at a human mind with his proper inspirations? On the one hand, one might follow the Catholic idea that this might only be successful if God Himself inspires humans with his Holy Spirit. On the other hand, the western theological tradition claims: Look at Jesus! Jesus however is veiled behind this tight curtain of historical tradition, construction and – of course – also abuse. In this situation, seeking after Jesus in a critical and historical way, asking for his probable intentions, intuitions and ideas is a way to clean our minds of our own ideas about Jesus and to come close to this figure in which Divine 13 14 15 16

Q 9,57 – 11,13. Adam, Jesus Christus; id., Geist unserer Zeit. Guardini, Jesus. Barth, Kirchliche Dogmatik, § 26. See also Pannenberg, Systematische Theologie I, 114– 121.

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Wisdom explains itself historically as a model for all those who strive to be disciples of Jesus in our days. The title of this little congress is promising in this regard: Can Q unveiled be a way to arrive at least a little more at Jesus unveiled? In this way, the historical quest for Jesus can be regarded as a real pious practise. It may help to overcome the prison of our own expectations and projecttions. It may help to open ourselves up to this strange man from Nazareth, who, nevertheless, catches us with his words, with his practice and with his faith. It is the great intuition of Karl Barth (1886–1968) to realize that the Word of God is most probably not simply well known and self understood but rather strange, wondrous and provoking. The quest for the historical Jesus may help to unveil the historical figure. Moreover, it helps to unveil ourselves by realizing the contingency of our expectations and to open our minds for this strange figure of the man from Nazareth. This can only be conceptualized theologically if a strong principle is assumed that grants the connectivity between Jesus as a model and the believers as his followers. Reason can be assumed as one principle of this connectivity. Still, the Divine Activity towards humans to prepare them for an inner understanding of the Divine intuitions can be assumed. Following St. Paul, this principle of an inner understanding is called the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit may lead to an inner understanding of God as present in Jesus of Nazareth. Thereby, the Holy Spirit may inspire an adoption of those intuitions that guided Jesus. And the Holy Spirit may help to translate these intuitions into the different social, political and economical situation of our days.

Bibliography Adam, K., Jesus Christus, Augsburg 1935. Adam, K., Jesus Christus und der Geist unserer Zeit, Augsburg 1935. Barth, K., Die Kirchliche Dogmatik, II/1, Zollikon-Zürich 1940. Guardini, R., Jesus, der Herr. Betrachtungen über die Person und das Leben Jesu Christi, Mainz 1937. Hösle, V., Philosophy and the Interpretation of the Bible, in: V. Hösle, God as Reason. Essays in Philosophical Theology, Notre Dame 2013. Müller, W., Vom Wissen Jesu: ein Lehrstück zum Zusammenspiel von Exegese und Dogmatik, in: Freiburger Zeitschrift für Philosophie und Theologie 52 (2005), 568–585. Pannenberg, W., Systematische Theologie, Bd. 1, Göttingen 1988. Pröpper, T., Theologische Anthropologie, Freiburg 2011. Rahner, K., Zur scholastischen Begrifflichkeit der ungeschaffenen Gnade, in: R. A. Siebenrock/A. Raffelt (ed.), Karl Rahner, Sämtliche Werke, vol 5, 2, Freiburg 2017, 40–62. Schwager, R., Der wunderbare Tausch. Zur Geschichte und Deutung der Erlösungslehre, München 1986. Schwager, R., Dogma und dramatische Geschichte, Freiburg 2014. Schweitzer, A., Reich Gottes und Christentum, München 1995.

 

Contributors (Alphabetic Order) Lukas Bormann Professor of New Testament Faculty of Theology University of Marburg, Germany Paul Foster Professor of New Testament and Early Christianity School of Divinity University of Edinburgh, UK Marco Frenschkowski Professor of New Testament and Graeco-Roman Religious History Faculty of Protestant Theology University of Leipzig, Germany Ralf Miggelbrink Professor of Systematic Theology Faculty of Humanities University of Essen, Germany Sarah E. Rollens Assistant Professor of Religious Studies Department of Religious Studies Rhodes College, U.S.A. Hildegard Scherer Professor for New Testament Faculty of Theology Chur, Switzerland Jens Schröter Professor of New Testament and Ancient Christian Apocrypha Faculty of Theology Humboldt University Berlin, Germany Gerd Theißen Professor em. of New Testament Faculty of Theology University of Heidelberg, Germany Markus Tiwald Professor of New Testament Faculty of Catholic Theology University of Vienna, Austria

284 Christopher Tuckett Emeritus Professor of New Testament Studies Faculty of Theology and Religion University of Oxford, UK Joseph Verheyden Professor of New Testament Faculty of Theology and Religious Studies University of Leuven, Belgium

 

Contributors

 

Index of Persons and Subjects

Adam, Karl 281 Ahuvia, Mika 237 Alexander of Hales 278 Alkier, Stefan 136 Arnal, William 179 Barth, Karl 281 Basedow, Johann Bernhard 136 Batiffol, Pierre 162 Baur, Ferdinand Christian 48 Bernays, Jacob 47 Bultmann, Rudolf 186, 192 Catchpole, David 69 Chaudry, Ayesha 237 Cornely, Rudolf 258 devotio moderna 276 Drury, John 104 Ebner, Martin 138 Eichhorn, Johann Gottfried 130 Farmer, William 43 Farrer hypothesis 66 Farrer, Austin 67, 93 First Vatican Council 129 Foster, Paul 69 Fragmentenstreit 129 Franklin, Eric 106 Gadamer, Hans-Georg 49 Goodacre, Mark 74, 110, 123 Goulder, Michael 67, 99 Griesbach hypothesis 66, 86 Guardini, Romano 281 Gutjahr, Franz Seraph 262 Harnack, Adolf von 57, 136 Heil, Christoph 139 Herder, Johann Gottfried 130 Hoffmann, Paul 136 Holtzmann, Heinrich Julius 44, 256 inertia of inequality 233 Jülicher, Adolf 256 Kaulen, Franz 259

Kittel, Rudolf 45 Koester, Helmut 241 Kögel, Julius 50 Kraemer, Ross 230 Lachmann, Karl 48, 130 Lagrange, Marie-Joseph 160, 167 Lessing, Gotthold Ephraim 129 Loisy, Alfred 148 Lummis, Edward 88 Luther, Martin 131, 138 Mark without Q theory 86 Marx, Karl 183 Occam’s razor 73, 76, 81 Pagels, Elaine 230, 242 Piper, Ron 69 Poirier, John 77 Pontifical Biblical Commission 132 Pope Benedict XVI 176 Pope Francis 141 Pope Leo XIII 141, 262 Pröpper, Thomas 275 Rahner, Karl 279 Reimarus, Hermann Samuel 129 Riley, Harold 66 Robinson, James M. 241 Ropes, James Hardy 93 Schaefer, Aloys 261 Schleiermacher, Friedrich D. E. 48 Schottroff, Luise 229 Schröter, Jens 139 Schüssler Fiorenza, Elisabeth 230 Schweitzer, Albert 274 Second Vatican Council 132, 133, 134, 136, 280 Shellard, Barbara 108 Simons, Eduard 87 Strauß, David Friedrich 48 Swift, Jonathan 131 Theißen, Gerd 135

286

Index

Thomas Aquinas 133, 278 Tridentine Council 131 Vielhauer, Philipp 187 Vincent of Lérins 131 Watson, Francis 74, 120 Weber, Max 183 Wedderburn, Alexander 138

Weiß, Johannes 274 Weiße, Christian Hermann 55 Wellhausen, Julius 57 Wengst, Klaus 188 Wilke, Christian Gottlob 55 Wrede, William 136

Index of Primary Sources Old Testament

Qumran

Genesis 4:21 197

11QPsᵃ 27,2–4. 10 195 11QPsApᵃ 1,2–6 195

1 Chronicles 4:21–23 211 Nehemiah 3:8.31 211 Job 5:11 27 Psalms 37:25 218 Proverbs 3:34 27 Sirach 10:14 27 29:24 195 40:28 218 Isaiah 26:14 213 Ezekiel 21:31 27 Zechariah 2:3 199

Philo of Alexandria and Flavius Josephus Josephus ant. 6, 166–169 195 ant. 8, 46–49 194 ant. 15, 388–390 202 ant. 18, 1–10 199 ant. 20, 34–48 202 bell. 2, 118 199 Philo leg. 57 197 New Testament (including Sayings Source) Q (Sayings Source) 6:20 14 10:7 204 11:9 218 Matthew 3:7–10 26 9:2a 116

10:5 215 10:26–33 32 12:11 26 13:44 90 13:45–46 90 13:47–50 90 13:55 195 20:1–6 90 21:28–32 90 22:27 115 22:7 160 24:26–41 90 25:1–12 25 25:1–13 90 25:31–46 90 Mark 2:1–12 22 2:3 116 3:22 25 6:1–6 192, 198 6:3 195 6:45–8:26 24 8:31 31 8:38–40 193 10:5 140 12:1–12 22 12:22b 115

Index

287

13:9–13 164 14:3–39 202

Christian Apocrypha und Pseudepigrapha

Ancient Greek and Roman Authors

Luke 1:3 91 3:7–9 26 5:17–26 22 5:18 116 8:1–3 204, 217 9:51–18:14 106 9:61–62 23 10:38–42 202 12:1 32 12:2–9 32 14:5 26 14:22–23 160 15:8–10 23 17:23–37 90 20:32 115

Arabic Infancy Gospel 38 209 Acta Pilati A 1 198 Acta Thomae 2 198 Acta Thomae 17 203 Gospel of Philip (NHC II/3) Log. 91 198 Gospel of Thomas 12 194 Gospel of Thomas 31 192 Infancy Gospel of Ps.Matthew 37:1 209 Infancy Gospel of Thomas 12 209 Infancy Gospel of Thomas 13 208 Protevangelium Iacobi 13 208

Epictetus diss. 4, 8, 7, 4 197 Lucian de morte Peregrini 16 204 Palladius, op. agricult. 1, 6, 2 206 Plutarch sept. sapient. conviv. 13 197 Tacitus ann. 4, 81, 1–3 195

John 1:45 195 2:19 215 2:20 202 4:43 215 7:49 219 8:48 215 8:57 216 11 202 11:41s 194 12:6 217 Acts 5:15 117, 193 19:13–17 193 Romans 8:29 279 2 Corinthians 2:17 203 James 4:5 27 1 Peter 5:5 27

Church Fathers Ambrose, comm. in Luc. 3, 2 196 Did 11:6. 12 204 Epiphanius, pan. 19, 2, 2. 4 192 Eusebius, h.e. 1, 7, 14 194 Justin dial. cum Tryphone 88 198 Origen c. Cels. 6, 36 197 Petrus Chrysologus, serm. XLVIII 196 Tertull. apol. 13,6 217 Ancient Papyri Papyrus Merton II 51 29 P.Oxy. 655 29 P.Oxy. 1224 29 P.Oxy. 5072 29

Rabbinic Writings bAZ 27b 194 bAZ 50b 199 bBB 16b 193 bPes 49ab 219 bSukka 51b 209 mTaʾan. 4,5 212 tḤull 2: 22f. 194 yAZ 2,2, 40d-41a 194 yShab 14,4, 14d-15a 194 yTaʾan 4:2 212 Publications of the Catholic Magisterium Amoris Laetitia § 308 141 Dei Filius, chapter 2 131 Dei Verbum § 11 134 Dei Verbum § 12 142 Divino Afflante Spiritu 132 Evangelii Gaudium § 24 141 Evangelii Gaudium § 270 141 Gaudium et Spes § 52 142 Providentissimus Deus 131, 141, 255