History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel, Revised and Expanded (The New Testament Library) [3 ed.] 0664225349, 9780664225346

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Commentary Series Matthew. by c. clifton black, princeton theological seminary Mark. by donald h. juel, princeton theological seminary Luke. by john t. carroll, union theological seminary / psce, virginia John. by marianne meye thompson, fuller theological seminary Acts. by carl r. holladay, candler school of theology, emory university Romans. by beverly roberts gaventa, princeton theological seminary I Corinthians. by alexandra r. brown, washington & lee university II Corinthians. by frank j. matera, the catholic university of america Galatians. by martinus c. de boer, free university of amsterdam Ephesians. by stephen e. fowl, loyola college Philippians and Philemon. by charles b. cousar, columbia theological semi-

nary Colossians. by jerry l. sumney, lexington theological seminary I & II Thessalonians. by e. elizabeth johnson, columbia theological seminary I & II Timothy and Titus. by raymond f. collins, the catholic university of america Hebrews. by luke timothy johnson, candler school of theology, emory university James. by joel b. green, asbury theological seminary I & II Peter and Jude. by lewis r. donelson, austin presbyterian theological seminary I, II, & III John. by judith m. lieu, king’s college, london Revelation. by brian k. blount, princeton theological seminary

HISTORY AND THEOLOGY IN THE FOURTH GOSPEL

The New Testament Library

The New Testament Library

History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel

classics

General Studies Methods for New Testament Study. by andrew k. m. adam, seabury-western theological seminary New testament backgrounds. by carl r. holladay, candler school of theology, emory university New testament History. by loveday alexander, university of sheffield Pauline Theology. by victor paul furnish, southern methodist university the law and the prophets bear witness: the old testament in the new. by j. ross wagner, princeton theological seminary

j. louis martyn

history and theology in the fourth gospel. by j. louis martyn, union theological seminary, new york the word in this world: essays in new testament exegesis and theology. by paul w. meyer, princeton theological seminary

THIRD EDITION

ISBN 0-664-22534-9

www.wjkacademic.com

™xHSKGQEy2 5346

J. LOUIS MARTYN

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HISTORY AND THEOLOGY IN THE FOURTH GOSPEL

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THE NEW TESTAMENT LIBRARY Editorial Board C. CLIFTON BLACK JOHN T. CARROLL BEVERLY ROBERTS GAVENTA

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J. Louis Martyn

HISTORY AND T H EO L O G Y I N TH E FOURTH GOSPEL Third Edition

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© 2003 J. Louis Martyn All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, address Westminster John Knox Press, 100 Witherspoon Street, Louisville, Kentucky 40202-1396. Scripture quotations from the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible are copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. and are used by permission. Scripture quotations from the Revised Standard Version of the Bible are copyright © 1946, 1952, 1971, and 1973 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. and are used by permission. Scripture quotations from The Jerusalem Bible, copyright © 1985 by Darton, Longman & Todd, Ltd., and Doubleday & Co., Inc. Used by permission of the publishers. Scripture quotations from The New Jerusalem Bible, copyright © 1985 by Darton, Longman & Todd, Ltd., and Doubleday & Co., Inc. Used by permission of the publishers. Scripture quotations from The New English Bible, © The Delegates of the Oxford University Press and The Syndics of the Cambridge Press, 1961, 1970. Used by permission. Scripture quotations from the New King James Version of the Bible are copyright © 1979, 1980, 1982, Thomas Nelson, Inc., Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Scripture quotations from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version, copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a division of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Book design by Jennifer K. Cox Third edition Published by Westminster John Knox Press Louisville, Kentucky This book is printed on acid-free paper that meets the American National Standards Institute Z39.48 standard. printed in the united states of america 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 — 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Martyn, J. Louis (James Louis), 1925– History and theology in the Fourth Gospel / J. Louis Martyn — 3rd ed. p. cm. — (The New Testament library) Rev. ed. of: History & theology in the Fourth Gospel. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-664-22534-9 (alk. paper) 1. Bible. N.T. John—Criticism, interpretation, etc. 2. Bible, N.T. John— Theology. I. Martyn, J. Louis (James Louis), 1925– History & theology in the Fourth Gospel. II. Title. III. Series BS2615.52 .M26 2003 226.5'06—dc21

2002033151

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Tιµoθε ω v / Πε vτρω/ ∆αυι vδ

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CONTENTS

Preface to History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel Third Edition ix The Editors, The New Testament Library Preface to the First Edition (1968)

x

Preface to the Second Edition (1979)

xii

Preface to the Third Edition (2003)

xiii

Abbreviations

xiv

The Contribution of J. Louis Martyn to the Understanding of the Gospel of John D. Moody Smith

1

Postscript for Third Edition of Martyn, History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel D. Moody Smith

19

Introduction

27

Part I A Synagogue-Church Drama: Erecting the Wall of Separation 1 2

A Blind Beggar Receives His Sight “So he went and washed and came back seeing.” He Is Excluded from the Synagogue and Enters the Church “And they cast him out. . . . ‘Lord, I believe.’”

35 46

Part II After the Wall Is Erected: The Drama Continues 3

The Jewish-Christian Beguiler Must Be Identified “He is leading the people astray.”

69

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4 5

Contents

He Must Be Arrested and Tried by the Court “The chief priests and Pharisees sent officers to arrest him.” Yet the Conversation Continues “Why are you listening to him?”

Part III 6

7

84 90

Major Theological Terms of the Conversation

From the Expectation of the Prophet-Messiah like Moses . . . “As the first redeemer, so also the last.” “This is truly the Prophet.” . . . To the Presence of the Son of Man “Do not labor for the food which perishes, but for the food which endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you.” “It was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven; . . . I am the bread of life.”

101

124

Glimpses into the History of the Johannine Community

145

Index of Ancient Sources

169

Index of Modern Authors

175

Index of Subjects

177

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PREFACE TO HISTORY AND THEOLOGY IN THE FOURTH GOSPEL Third Edition

In his comprehensive survey, Understanding the Fourth Gospel (Oxford University Press, 1991), John Ashton divides the history of modern Johannine scholarship into three epochs: Before Bultmann, Bultmann, and After Bultmann. The reference is, of course, to the towering commentary on John (English translation 1971) by Rudolf Bultmann (1884–1976). In Ashton’s view, which many would share, J. Louis Martyn’s History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel “for all its brevity is probably the most important single work on the Gospel since Bultmann’s commentary” (107). Whereas Bultmann’s interpretation of John seemed oddly timeless, detached from any social dimension in Christian antiquity, Martyn’s thesis located the Fourth Gospel firmly and plausibly along a Jewish landscape. Moreover, Martyn encouraged an interpretation of John that, with variations, persists in twenty-first-century scholarship: as a drama of conflict occurring simultaneously on two historically different planes, that between Jesus and his adversaries and that between believers within the Johannine community and Jewish leaders of the evangelist’s day. As D. Moody Smith observes in his appreciative introduction to the present volume, Martyn’s approach was not without precedents. “But he rightly gets credit for a sea change in Johannine studies for somewhat the same reason that the Wright brothers got credit for the airplane. Others may have gotten off the ground, but Martyn—like the Wright brothers—achieved sustained flight” (6). We are proud to present J. Louis Martyn’s History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel, accompanied by his subsequent “Glimpses into the History of the Johannine Community,” as the first in a series of Classics of the New Testament Library. Veteran scholars will rejoice with us in the return of these masterly studies, too long out of print. With equal confidence, we believe that a new generation of interpreters will discover in Martyn’s contribution not only scholarship of the highest caliber, but also absorbing literature that is a delight to read. The Editors The New Testament Library

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PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION (1968)

The origin of the Fourth Gospel is enveloped by mists of unusual density. To achieve a single clearing among them and to realize some of the possibilities of interpretation corresponding to this clearing is the task of the present work. He who seeks to make a clearing must add to his boldness an adequate measure of humility. The mists conceal surprises. Indeed, they are themselves surprising. They are extensive, so that one necessarily encounters them whatever his avenue of approach. Furthermore, they seem to gather themselves into somewhat independent groups. To dispel the mists on one side is not to conquer those on another. This point demands emphasis because not a few interpreters have mistaken the achievement of a small clearing for a complete removal of the mists. I have had repeatedly to remind myself not to make this same mistake, and I must warn the reader not to do so. The setting in which the Fourth Evangelist composed his work was, I am sure, unusually complex. I have tried to illuminate one aspect of it and to view the interpretative task in light of that aspect. We have grown somewhat suspicious, I suppose, of the scholar who exclaims that his findings surprise him at least as much as they will surprise any of his readers. I must add to the fund of suspicion. When I began to study the Fourth Gospel, two brilliant articles of Rudolf Bultmann and his incomparable commentary soon convinced me that the conceptual milieu in which the evangelist penned his work was dominated by a kind of gnostic thought kin to that reflected in the Mandaean literature.* The commentary still seems to me an indispensable tool, and its major thesis partly correct. But several remarkable points of correspondence between certain passages in the Fourth Gospel and data from Jewish sources gradually pressed their special claim on me, and I have had to follow a somewhat different path. The path is different not only with regard to the extrabiblical sources most *“Der religionsgeschichtliche Hintergrund des Prologs zum Johannesevangelium,” Eucharisterion, Festschrift Gunkel (1923), vol. 2, 3–26; “Die Bedeutung der deuerschlossenen mandäi-schen Quellen für das Verständnis des Johannesevangeliums,” ZNW, 24 (1925), 100–146; Das Evangelium des Johannes, K-eK (195313).

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Preface to First Edition

xi

frequently cited, but also with respect to the way in which the resulting points of correspondence are interpreted. The reader will quickly see that these points of correspondence seem to me not only to illuminate important aspects of the conceptual milieu in which the Fourth Evangelist worked, but also—one might even say primarily—to point toward certain historical developments transpiring in the city in which he lived. It is in the sense thus indicated that I have employed the word history in the title.† It is pleasant to recall conversations with those who generously read and helpfully criticized the manuscript in whole and in part: colleagues John Knox, Cyril Richardson, and James Smart; friend Ernst Käsemann; former students Robert T. Fortna, Walter Wink, and Ed P. Sanders. Fortna wrote his dissertation (Cambridge University Press)‡ on a very important aspect of Johannine studies as I was working at the present task, and the hours we spent together discussing our respective labors were greatly enriching to me. I was also helped by the careful and thoughtful reading of Nils A. Dahl. The major part of the research and writing was done during a period of scholé made possible by sabbatical leave from Union Theological Seminary and generously sponsored by the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation. Part of the cost of printing the occasional Greek and Hebrew terms was also graciously borne by the foundation. J. L. M.

†Contrast, ‡The

e.g., A. J. B. Higgins, The Historicity of the Fourth Gospel (1960). Gospel of Signs (1970).

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PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION (1979)

The period since the original edition—almost exactly a decade—has seen the continuation of an extraordinary flow of critical literature on John’s Gospel. To make one’s way through the major items listed in the bibliographies of E. Malatesta, A. Moda, and H. Thyen* is to see the scope, and indeed, as regards many items, to sense the depth of recent Johannine research. In the midst of such a wealth of publications it is, of course, encouraging to an author to note that certain aspects of his interpretative efforts seem to have borne nourishing fruit. References that are being made to the original edition indicate that its major theses have won a rather wide following. At the same time, it is no surprise that flaws of some consequence have been detected, and these call for correction. Moreover, some of the most significant items in the bibliographies just mentioned have been directed to issues central to the book, and a revised edition offers a welcome opportunity not only to alter one’s line of argument here and there, but also to enter into what one may hope is mutually illuminating conversation with recent interpreters. That conversation will be truly illuminating if it enables us in the midst of our communities to converse more generously with the evangelist in the midst of his community. J. L. M.

*E. Malatesta, St. John’s Gospel 1920–1965: A Cumulative and Classified Bibliography of Books and Periodical Literature on the Fourth Gospel (1967); A. Moda, “Quarto Vangelo: 1966–72, Una selezione bibliografica,” Rivista Biblica 22 (1974), 53–86; H. Thyen, “Aus der Literatur zum Johannesevangelium,” ThR 39 (1974), 1–69, 222–52, 289–330; 42 (1977), 211–70.

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PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION (2003)

During the decades following the Second World War, biblical studies were on the whole heavily theological, sometimes at the expense of meticulous historical research. Some interpreters, for example, read John’s Gospel through the timeless philosophical lenses of existentialism, as though this Gospel had fallen from heaven straight into our modern times. Now, at the outset of the twenty-first century, we find in some circles very nearly the opposite tendency. In a rather prosaic manner, early Christian documents are mined for their historical and literary ore, while the theological passions that moved their authors are given little sustained attention. In fact, however, the Gospel of John bears clear marks both of the historical setting in which it was written and of the theological issues that were matters of life and death in the author’s community. The present volume is the attempt of one interpreter to honor the confluence of Johannine history and Johannine theology. I am happily indebted to the editorial board of the New Testament Library for taking the initiative to include my work in the Classics Series. And for the substantive, introductory essay, I am deeply grateful to Professor D. Moody Smith, the dean of current Johannine studies in America. J. L. M.

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ABBREVIATIONS

1. Books and Articles Barrett, St. John Bauer, Johannes Bauer, Lexicon

Bernard, St. John

Billerbeck, Kommentar

Blass, Debrunner, and Funk, Grammar Bousset and Gressmann, Religion Brown, John

Bultmann, History Bultmann, Johannes

C. K. Barrett, The Gospel According to St. John (1955). W. Bauer, Das Johannesevangelium, HNT (19333). W. Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, trans. and adapted by W. F. Arndt and F. W. Gingrich (1957). J. H. Bernard, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Gospel According to St. John, 2 vols., ed. A. H. McNeile (1928). H. L. Strack and P. Billerbeck, Kommentar zum Neuen Testament aus Talmud und Midrasch, 6 vols., vols. 5 and 6 by J. Jeremias and K. Adolph (1922–1961). F. Blass and A. Debrunner, A Greek Grammar of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature, trans. and rev. by R. W. Funk (1961). W. Bousset and H. Gressmann, Die Religion des Judentums (19263). R. E. Brown, The Gospel According to John (i–xii), The Anchor Bible, vols. 29, 29A (1966, 1970). R. Bultmann, History of the Synoptic Tradition, trans. by John Marsh (1963). R. Bultmann, Das Evangelium des Johannes (1953).

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Bultmann, John Dodd, Interpretation Goldin, “The Period of the Talmud” Hahn, Hoheitstitel Hahn, Titles Herford, Christianity Hoskyns, The Fourth Gospel Hummel, Die Auseinandersetzung Hunzinger, Bannpraxis Jastrow, Dictionary

Jocz, The Jewish People de Jonge, L’Evangile de Jean Juster, Les Juifs Käsemann, Testament Klausner, Jesus Krauss, Synagogale Alt Kuhn, Achtzehngebet Lindars, John Martyn, “Glimpses into the History of the Johannine Community”

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R. Bultmann, The Gospel of John (1971). C. H. Dodd, The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel (1953). J. Goldin, “The Period of the Talmud,” in vol. 1 of L. Finkelstein (ed.), The Jews, Their History, Culture,and Religion, 2 vols. (1949). F. Hahn, Christologische Hoheitstitel (1963). F. Hahn, Titles of Jesus in Christology (1969). R. T. Herford, Christianity in Talmud and Midrash (1903). E. C. Hoskyns, The Fourth Gospel, ed. F. N. Davey (19472). R. Hummel, Die Auseinandersetzung zwischen Kirche und Judentum im Matthäusevangelium (1963). C. H. Hunzinger, Die jüdische Bannpraxis im neutestamentlichen Zeitalter (Göttingen Dissertation, 1954). M. Jastrow, A Dictionary of the Targumim, The Talmud Babli and Yerushalmi, and the Midrashic Literature, 2 vols. (1903). Jocz, The Jewish People and Jesus Christ (19542). M. de Jonge (ed.), L’Evangile de Jean, Sources, rédaction, théologie (1977). J. Juster, Les Juifs dans l’Empire Romain, 2 vols. (1914). E. Käsemann, The Testament of Jesus (1968). J. Klausner, Jesus of Nazareth, His Life, Times, and Teaching (1925). S. Krauss, Synagogale Altertümer (1922). K. G. Kuhn, Achtzehngebet und Vaterunser und der Reim (1950). B. Lindars, The Gospel of John (1972). J. L. Martyn, “Glimpses into the History of the Johannine Community,” in de Jonge, L’Evangile de Jean, and in Martyn, The Gospel of John in Christian History (1979).

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Abbreviations

Martyn, “We Have Found Elijah”

J. L. Martyn, “We Have Found Elijah,” in R. Hamerton-Kelly and R. Scroggs (eds.), Jews, Greeks, and Christians, Essays in Honor of W. D. Davies (1976), and in Martyn, The Gospel of John in Christian History (1979). Meeks, “Man from Heaven” W. A. Meeks, “The Man from Heaven in Johannine Sectarianism,” JBL 91 (1972), 44–72. Meeks, Prophet-King W. A. Meeks, The Prophet-King, Moses Traditions and the Johannine Christology (1967). Moore, Judaism G. F. Moore, Judaism in the First Centuries of the Christian Era, the Age of the Tannaim, 3 vols. (1927–1930). Noack, Tradition B. Noack, Zur johanneischen Tradition (1954). Schnackenburg, John R. Schnackenburg, The Gospel According to St. John, vol. 1 (1968). Schulz, Komposition S. Schulz, Komposition und Herkunft der Johanneischen Reden (1960). Schulz, MenschensohnS. Schulz, Untersuchungen zur MenschensohnChristologie Christologie im Johannesevangelium (1957). Schürer, Jewish People E. Schürer, A History of the Jewish People in the Time of Jesus Christ, trans. by John Macpherson, 5 vols. (1897–98). Tödt, The Son of Man H. E. Tödt, The Son of Man in the Synoptic Tradition, trans. by Dorothea M. Barton (1965). Volz, Eschatologie P. Volz, Die Eschatologie der jüdischen Gemeinde (19342). 2. Periodicals, Dictionaries, and Other Items Abbreviated AB ATR b BAO BJRL CBQ CD ETL EvTh GCS

Anchor Bible Anglican Theological Review Babylonian Talmud Beihefte zum Alten Orient Bulletin of the John Ryland’s Library Catholic Biblical Quarterly The Cairo Damascus Document Ephemerides theologicae lovanienses Evangelische Theologie Die griechischen christlichen Schriftsteller der ersten [drei] Jahrhunderte

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HNT HTR HUCA IDB j JBL JEA JQR JTS K-eK NEB Nov. Test. NTS RB RGG3 RSV SNTSMS ThLZ ThR ThWNT ThZ TU USQR ZNW ZThK

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Handbuch zum Neuen Testament Harvard Theological Review Hebrew Union College Annual Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible Jerusalem Talmud Journal of Biblical Literature Journal of Egyptian Archaeology Jewish Quarterly Review Journal of Theological Studies Kritisch-exegetischer Kommentar über das Neue Testament New English Bible Novum Testamentum New Testament Studies Revue biblique Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart, third edition Revised Standard Version Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series Theologische Literaturzeitung Theologische Rundschau Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament Theologische Zeitschrift Texte und Untersuchungen Union Seminary Quarterly Review Zeitschrift für die neutestamentliche Wissenschaft Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche

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THE CONTRIBUTION OF J. LOUIS MARTYN TO THE UNDERSTANDING OF THE GOSPEL OF JOHN* D. Moody Smith

In the decades immediately after World War II, the study of the Gospel and Epistles of John was dominated by theological questions, a state of affairs that was appropriate enough, for the controlling issues of the Johannine literature are clearly theological. The sharpest debates had to do with the historical setting and its bearing on the theological issues. In fact, Martyn’s contribution lies precisely in the determination of that historical setting and its impact on the interpretation of Johannine theology, particularly in the Gospel. He called into question the view that the most relevant historical setting was Hellenistic, gnostic, or Christian by proposing that the primal context of Johannine thought was Jewish, or Jewish-Christian. Johannine Interpretation in the Decades after World War II The dominant modes of Johannine interpretation in the postwar decades were rooted in research going back much earlier. Fittingly, the era’s two most notable scholars, in Great Britain and Germany respectively, capped lifetimes of scholarship with magna opera on the Fourth Gospel: Bultmann with his magisterial commentary;1 Dodd with his two weighty books on the interpretation and historical tradition of the Gospel.2 A third work should perhaps be put alongside them—namely, Hoskyns’s The Fourth Gospel.3 A kind of exegetical “Unfinished Symphony,” it was brought to completion and published by Hoskyns’s colleague Davey. In order to see Martyn’s contribution in perspective, it will be useful to characterize each of the three, for in their approach and assessment of the issues *This essay originally appeared in Robert T. Fortna and Beverly R. Gaventa, eds., The Conversation Continues: Studies in Paul & John in Honor of J. Louis Martyn (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1990), 275–94. Reprinted with permission. 1. Bultmann, John. The German original, Das Evangelium des Johannes (1941) was first published in fascicles, 1939–41, and has been supplemented through the years with several Ergänzungshefte. 2. Dodd, Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel (1953); Historical Tradition in the Fourth Gospel (1963). 3. Hoskyns, The Fourth Gospel, unlike Dodd’s Interpretation, is a commentary proper.

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they represented alternatives that differed, while sharing certain important presuppositions. All set the problem of Johannine interpretation against a horizon of Christian or more general religious or existential theological concerns. Dodd’s work was based on his wide-ranging and deep research in the Hellenistic cultural and religious world, as well as his appreciation of Judaism, its traditions and scriptures. The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel (1953) set the Gospel of John against a wide range of Hellenistic and Jewish backgrounds, which Dodd deemed more or less relevant for its understanding. While Dodd saw important connections with Judaism, and particularly the Old Testament, he was satisfied to characterize the intended audience of the Gospel as those intelligent, literate, and religious readers who were fairly numerous in the Hellenistic world. Interestingly enough, Dodd did not dismiss the tradition of apostolic authorship, although it becomes quite clear in Interpretation that he placed little or no stock in it. That is, it was wholly unnecessary to the perspective and approach that work represents. The situation may change just slightly with Historical Tradition in the Fourth Gospel, for in that book Dodd clearly intends to trace the Johannine tradition, whether in written or oral form, to its historical roots. Moreover, he is strongly disposed to view it as standing in a significant and positive relation to Jesus himself. Nevertheless, he does not rest his case on apostolic authorship, but rather he analyzes the text with a view to establishing its traditional, and putatively historical, roots. Interestingly enough, the Johannine tradition’s rootage in Jesus himself would be congruent with Dodd’s view of Jesus’ own realized eschatology. Thus the Fourth Gospel represents, not a development or departure from Jesus, but rather the fundamental eschatological perspective of Jesus, albeit dressed out in more hellenized form. The hellenized form of the Fourth Gospel is roughly equivalent in meaning or import to its universal scope. Its message is adapted to cultured, literate readers with religious interests, be they Jew or Greek. Whether in Palestine, Athens, Alexandria, or Rome, the intended reader would understand and feel the appeal of the Gospel of John. Specific historical circumstances of the Gospel’s setting are less important than general religious and cultural relevance and affinities in Dodd’s view. To a remarkable extent the same can be said of the equally influential perspective and theological interpretation of Rudolf Bultmann.4 Of course, Bultmann had a quite specific and distinctive view of the Gospel’s historical origin and literary development. Its origin lay close to the same baptist circles in Syria or Palestine from which John the Baptist emerged. In fact, the sign-source of the Gospel may have first been used as a missionary tract among disciples of John 4. As well as the commentary, note also Bultmann’s Theology of the New Testament (trans. Kendrick Grobel; 2 vols., 1955), 2.3–92.

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the Baptist, and the evangelist himself may have once followed John. These early baptists seem to have been heterodox Jews, from whom (or in near proximity to whom) the Mandaeans later developed or emerged. The Mandaean sources, with their dualism and terminological affinities with the Johannine literature, became for Bultmann extremely important documents for understanding the milieu and meaning of the Gospel and Epistles of John. The Mandaeans—whose name, of course, means “knowledge” (or gnostic)—provide the gnostic connection of the Fourth Gospel. One should recall, however, that the Gospel of John was written not to embrace or affirm a gnostic point of view, but rather to oppose it. It remained for his student Ernst Käsemann to espouse a much more positively gnosticizing interpretation of the Fourth Gospel. Of course, Bultmann assumed that the traditional view of Johannine authorship had long since been shown to be problematic. In fact, the ecclesiastical redactor of the Gospel was the first to equate the Beloved Disciple with the evangelist.5 While Bultmann’s historical and literary theories are amazingly specific and detailed at some points, much more so than Dodd’s, they too are at the service of a higher theological interpretation that tends to be universal or universalizing. The connection through Mandaeism with a largely hypothetical early oriental gnosticism developing at the fringes of Judaism is the key to this process. Bultmann, drawing upon the work of his student Hans Jonas, understood historic gnosticism to enshrine a classic understanding of existence as alienation, embodied in its typical dualism. It is this understanding of existence that is overcome in the Christian gospel as presented by John. The gnostic mythology becomes the vehicle for the Christian message. By the same token the Jews, who appear throughout the Gospel as Jesus’ opponents, are not real, historic Jews, but symbolize unfaith’s rejection of Jesus. Bultmann acknowledges almost incidentally that their presence in John may be rooted in a synagogue-church conflict.6 Nevertheless, the Gospel of John can be properly read and understood without knowledge of its specific historical setting and purpose. At the same time, however, the Gospel can be appreciated in its theological purity only if Bultmann’s various literary reconstructions are followed. Otherwise, one encounters a Gospel somewhat diluted, even corrupted, by later accretions and especially rearrangement accomplished by a process of ecclesiastical editing.7 5. Bultmann, John, 716. 6. Bultmann, Theology of the New Testament, 2.5. 7. Bultmann’s source theory is well known. The evangelist worked with several literary sources: a sign-source, a revelation-discourse source, and a passion source as well as other more fragmentary sources or traditions. In a real sense he interpreted and even demythologized them as he wove them into the Gospel he was creating. The original form of this Gospel was unaccountably lost, but it has been the object of at least two serious efforts at restoration. The first was undertaken, according to Bultmann, by the ecclesiastical redactor, but with only limited success. The second was the

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Hoskyns differs from the interpretations of Dodd and Bultmann in that he placed the Gospel’s development from beginning to end against a Christian background. That is, John knew, if not the Synoptic Gospels, certainly the traditions they contain, and his purpose was to bring to the forefront their central and essential theological meaning and significance. Crucial for Hoskyns was the theological commensurability of John with the Synoptics, indeed, with the other major New Testament witnesses also. This is the test of the Gospel’s theological appropriateness and validity. Thus, not surprisingly, Hoskyns emphasized the indispensability and importance of the historical revelation of God in Jesus Christ for the evangelist. Fundamentally, Hoskyns agreed with both Bultmann and Dodd in this respect, although each exegete conceived of this historical dimension and emphasis on the Incarnation in his own distinctive way. In setting forth the meaning of John’s Gospel in the context of the earliest development of Christian dogma—that is, within the New Testament period— Hoskyns adopted a mode or horizon of interpretation most amenable to the classical Christian understanding of the document. Already, at the end of the second century, Clement of Alexandria spoke of John, in relation to the others, as a spiritual Gospel. The sixteenth-century reformer John Calvin, at the beginning of his commentary, characterized the Gospel of John as the key to the proper understanding of the others. In fact, making due allowance for the differences of historical understanding and circumstance, one could truthfully say that Hoskyns’s perspective and commentary stand directly in the legacy of both Clement and Calvin, as well as many other Christian interpreters before and since. John embraces and brings to articulation the essence of catholic Christianity as it is found elsewhere in the New Testament and in other early Christian witnesses. Thus, in effect, John is perceived as paving the way for the kind of “New Testament” or biblical theology to which Irenaeus gave expression toward the end of the second century. work of Bultmann himself, who in a real sense created the text he was commenting on. His reconstruction entailed both large-scale and minuscule rearrangements of the traditional text as well as the elimination of some passages (such as 6:51–58; chap. 21), deemed the creation of the redactor. For further details, consult the English translation of Bultmann’s commentary, for which a table of contents has been helpfully provided, enabling the reader to locate passages Bultmann has repositioned, or my Composition and Order of the Fourth Gospel: Bultmann’s Literary Theory (1965). In that monograph I call attention to the fact that Bultmann never offers an explanation for the destruction or, indeed, the defective restoration of the text as a deficiency in his work. I have since come to question the significance of such a historically based criticism, given Bultmann’s hermeneutic. The text stimulates the interpreter, but the interpreter with the proper Vorverständnis then understands better than the (author of the) text what the text is about. Why should the interpreter not then improve upon the text—within the resources provided by the text—to bring its Sache to clear expression? I do not seriously suggest that Bultmann actually or explicitly thought in this way, only that such a procedure is the logical extension of his hermeneutical program.

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It is worth noting at this point that the obverse of Hoskyns’s position on the place of the Johannine Gospel in the development of early Christianity is not represented by Dodd or Bultmann so much as by Ernst Käsemann, whose Jesu letzter Wille nach Johannes 17 appeared more than two decades later.8 In fact, the works of Käsemann and Martyn appeared at about the same time. Moreover, Martyn had studied with Käsemann in the 1950s. Interestingly, like Hoskyns, Käsemann saw the Fourth Gospel as a response to, or development of, distinctly Christian theological concerns or issues. He, too, attempted to place the Fourth Gospel in the history of early Christianity by analyzing the character and thrust of its theology. But there the similarity to Hoskyns ends. Whereas Hoskyns saw in John the paragon of what might be called orthodoxy in the development of dogma, presumably toward the end of the first century, Käsemann had already, since his famous article “Ketzer und Zeuge,” been accustomed to viewing the evangelist—or Elder, as he styled him—as both heretic and witness.9 Far from representing the direction in which orthodox church doctrine would move, John was naively docetic, suspect in orthodox circles—if unfairly so—for its gnostic leanings. Only by human error and the providence of God did the Gospel eventually find its way into the Christian canon of holy scripture. Yet, despite the suspicion in which it once stood, Käsemann values John highly for its uncompromising emphasis on Jesus Christ as God’s word, set forth at a juncture in church history when the Gospel might easily have been overwhelmed or obscured by a suffocating ecclesiasticism and sacramentalism. Bultmann’s interpretation of John against a gnostic background lives on in Käsemann, but in drastically altered, it not inverted, form. No longer is John’s kerygma to be demythologized in terms of an understanding of existence. Now the word of the quasi-docetic Christ calls human beings to uncompromising allegiance to himself, making claims that put his own humanity in question and that can only be described as dogmatic. Ironically, John’s Spirit-inspired Christology and ecclesiology in time came to undergird an ecclesiastical orthodoxy in which church office and sacrament tended to rein in, and perhaps override, freedom of the same Spirit. Martyn’s Proposal and Contribution Just when the stage might have seemed set for a battle royal between Käsemann and his allies and the more orthodox position represented by Hoskyns, the terms on which such a discussion could go forward were radically questioned by the original, insightful, provocative contribution of J. Louis Martyn, History and 8. Translated as The Testament of Jesus (1968). 9. Käsemann, “Ketzer und Zeuge,” Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 49 (1951), 292–311.

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Theology in the Fourth Gospel.10 In setting John against a Jewish, rather than a Christian, background, Martyn had predecessors. But he rightly gets credit for a sea change in Johannine studies for somewhat the same reason that the Wright brothers got credit for the airplane. Others may have gotten off the ground, but Martyn—like the Wright brothers—achieved sustained flight. To extend the metaphor, his vehicle may not have been perfect, but it has proven good enough to maintain itself and to stand correction. This is not the place to summarize Martyn’s position. That has been done often enough, with variations on the theme, by myself and others. Suffice it to say that Martyn, unlike the dominant interpreters antecedent to him, took seriously the tension and hostility between “the Jews” and Jesus as the key to the historical life-setting and purpose of the Gospel of John. His entire proposal is based on two fundamental assumptions or insights. First, the prominence of the Jews and their hostility to Jesus and his disciples likely represents a genuine historical setting (that is, it is not an exercise in theological symbolism). Second, this historical setting can scarcely be that of Jesus and his actual, original disciples and opponents.11 Therefore, one is not only justified, but also impelled to look for a historical setting and state of affairs corresponding to the nature and direction or thrust of the Gospel’s tensions and conflict. Martyn is actually invoking the modern, form-critical principle that the Gospels bear testimony primarily to the life-setting in which they were produced, and only secondarily to their subject matter. As is well known, Martyn finds the major key to that setting in the thricerepeated reference to the expulsion from the synagogue of those who confess belief in Jesus (9:22; 12:42; 16:2), and more particularly in the evangelist’s statement that “the Jews had already agreed that if anyone should confess him to be Messiah, he would become an excommunicate from the synagogue.”12 This agreement is traced to the Jamnian Academy under the leadership of Gamaliel II (80–115 C.E.) and to the reformulation of the Twelfth Benediction of the Eighteen (Shemoneh Esre) by the legendary Samuel the Small. According to Martyn, this malediction against Nazarenes (Christians) and Minim (heretics) was used to smoke out followers of Jesus in the synagogue service, for they could not in good conscience recite it, much less lead it. Martyn daringly reconstructs a dramatic scene in which the Christ-confessor would be identified and excluded. His reconstruction is based principally on Berakoth 28 (see also y. Berakoth 8a) of the Babylonian Talmud (54; see also 61), and sec-

10. Martyn, History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel (1968). References in this essay are to the present volume, the third edition (2003). 11. Ibid., 47. 12. Ibid.

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ondarily on such data as the instances in Justin’s Dialogue with Trypho (16, 110) in which Jews are said to curse in their synagogues all who believe in Christ (16) or to expel Christians from their property (110).13 Berakoth 28 describes how making a mistake on the Twelfth Benediction brings down upon the reader the suspicion of being a Min, and suggests, but does not say, that the recitation of the Benediction was intended as a test for heretics, possibly Christians. Martyn’s dramatic reconstruction has made his thesis all the more alluring, as he evokes the synagogue and city of the evangelist.14 Wayne Meeks, who has made his own distinctive contribution to the definition of a Jewish milieu for John, has noted the difficulty of establishing some aspects of Martyn’s thesis and rightly observes that the Twelfth Benediction has become a kind of red herring of Johannine scholarship.15 For one thing, it is unclear that within the first century the Jamnian Academy had the kind of general authority that Martyn’s thesis attributes to it. For another, the date of the Twelfth Benediction is uncertain, and since Martyn first published, a number of scholars have strongly contested the view that it was composed as early as the 80s of the first century. In the third place, there is not direct or unambiguous evidence that the Benediction was formulated for the purpose of smoking Christians out of the synagogue or that it was ever actually used in that way. It should be added, however, that despite Meeks’s reservations about the specifics of Martyn’s thesis, he is far from dismissing it as unfounded and is inclined to 13. Ibid., 59, 64–65. 14. As is well known, Kenneth L. Carroll related aposynagogoi to the Birkath ha-Minim in his article, “The Fourth Gospel and the Exclusion of Christians from the Synagogues,” Bulletin of the John Rylands Library 40 (1957–58), 19–32. At almost the same time, T. C. Smith, Jesus in the Gospel of John (1959), made the same connection. Curiously, Carroll continued to think of the author of the Gospel as a Gentile Christian and did not make his insight productive for an understanding of its setting and purpose. Already William Wrede, Charakter und Tendenz des Johannesevangeliums (Sammlung gemeinverstandlicher Vorträge und Schriften aus dem Gebiet der Theologie und Religionsgeschichte 37, 1903), had observed that the Jews in the Fourth Gospel reflected a Johannine conflict with contemporary Judaism. Shortly after the appearance of Martyn’s book, but still independent of it, Göran Forkman, The Limits of the Religious Community: Expulsion from the Religious Community within the Qumran Sect, within Rabbinic Judaism, and within Primitive Christianity, Coniectanea Biblica, New Testament—Series 5 (1972), connected the Birkath ha-Minim with expulsion of Christians from the synagogue (90–92) and found that the experiences reflected in John 9:22; 12:42; and 16:2 are in all probability related to its promulgation. Forkman cites as important for his own work the unpublished Göttingen dissertation of ClausHunno Hunzinger, “Die jüdische Bannpraxis im neutestamentlichen Zeitalter” (1954), also cited by Martyn, which I have not seen. Forkman does not, however, cite Martyn, nor does he apparently know the works of Carroll or T. C. Smith. 15. See Wayne Meeks, “Breaking Away: Three New Testament Pictures of Christianity’s Separation from the Jewish Communities,” in “To See Ourselves as Others See Us”: Christians, Jews, “Others” in Late Antiquity, eds. Jacob Neusner and Ernest S. Frerichs, Studies in the Humanities 9 (1985), 93–115; pertinent discussion is on 102. Meeks’s contribution began with his important monograph Prophet-King.

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believe that the evidence Martyn has adduced on the Johannine side bespeaks some such controversy as Martyn has proposed. Moreover, his hesitations with regard to the rabbinic and other evidence on the Jewish side do not amount to a rejection, but to a series of cautions.16 Meeks would prefer to think of a linear development in which the promulgation of the Birkath ha-Minim was a culmination rather than the beginning point of a development, a position that Martyn does not regard as devastating to his own.17 Nevertheless, in the revised edition of History and Theology Martyn sees no reason to retreat from what is from any point of view a murky swamp in which his opponents’ views can be grounded no more securely than his own. The evidence is itself incomplete and demands a coherent theory if one is to make sense of it. In fact, he earlier on declared that the correlation between the Birkath haMinim and the expression “to be put out of the synagogue” is one of the relatively secure points in the history of the Johannine community.18 Meeks’s assessment, like that of other experts, is typical: “Louis Martyn’s ingenious ‘two-level’ reading of John 9 and other conflict stories in this Gospel has been widely accepted in its general outline if not in all its details.”19 Meeks’s discussion of the Johannine community makes clear that he himself is a part of this general consensus, although he would make some qualifications and introduce some important nuances. As many questions as one may have about the daringly bold formulation of Martyn’s thesis, it is difficult to reject the evidence and Martyn’s construal of it as without foundation. Perhaps the issues have become exacerbated in view of Martyn’s belief that John 16:2, when linked to the Jews’ mortal opposition to Jesus in the Gospel, 16. See Martyn, History and Theology, 60, n. 69, and 61–62, n. 75, for Martyn’s summary of discussions with Wayne A. Meeks and Morton Smith. 17. Much more negative, however, is Reuven Kimelman, “Birkat ha-Minim and the Lack of Evidence for an Anti-Christian Jewish Prayer in Late Antiquity,” Jewish and Christian SelfDefinition (vol. 2; eds. E. P. Sanders et al.; 1981), 226–44; also Stephen Katz, “Issues in the Separation of Judaism and Christianity after 70 C.E.: A Reconsideration,” JBL 103 (1984), 43–76. Peter Schäfer, “Die sogannante Synode von Jabne,” in Studien zur Geschichte und Theologie des Rabbinischen Judentums (1978), 45–55 (reprinted from Judaica 31 [1975]), argues that the Benediction was directed as much against political oppression as against heretics, and in any case was not intended to separate Christians from Jews. A balanced treatment with ample bibliographical citation is William Horbury, “The Benediction of the Minim and Early Jewish-Christian Controversy,” JTS 33 (1982), 19–61. Horbury’s judgment, 60 (“The Jamnian ordinance belongs to this more systematized opposition of the late first century, and probably reinforces an earlier exclusion attested in John, although uncertainties of dating leave open the possibility that these two measures may be contemporaneous.”), expresses approximately the same proportion of agreement and qualification as do those of Meeks and Morton Smith. But while also allowing for the Johannine persecution to antedate the Jamnian formulation, Horbury is inclined to continue to date the Twelfth Benediction within the first century. 18. See Martyn, The Gospel of John in Christian History, 1979, 92; see also 103–4. 19. Meeks, “Breaking Away,” 95; see also 94–104.

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suggests that some Johannine missioner(s) had been put to death by Jews as a beguiler (mesith). At this point the possible implications of Martyn’s thesis for modern Jewish-Christian relations are obvious enough, although Martyn himself has been careful to keep the discussion on the plane of historical investigation and to make clear that his findings have no direct implications of modern interfaith relations in the sense that they could legitimately be used by anyone for or against anyone else. About 16:2, Martyn writes: In light of the fact that the horrible and heinous and centuries-long persecution of Jews by Christians has sometimes been “justified” by the theory that the Jews did the first persecuting, it is understandable that a number of Christian interpreters have wished to see this verse as a reference to the persecution of Christians not by Jews, but by Roman authorities. Yet the Greek word rendered “act of (worshipful) service” refers elsewhere in the New Testament to Jewish worship; and the other experience referred to in this text, excommunication from the synagogue, points to the action of Jewish authorities. Modern relations between Christians and Jews are not helped by an antihistorical interpretation of Biblical texts.20

To leave the impression that Martyn’s work on John was mainly accomplished by the publication of one book, as important as it may be, would be misleading. Martyn’s 1957Yale Ph.D. dissertation, “The Salvation-History Perspective in the Fourth Gospel,” was in large part a study of the historical setting of the Gospel, in which he found the key in the role played by “the Jews.” As in History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel, Martyn argues that the original setting of the Fourth Gospel (or its antecedent tradition) was the synagogue, in which followers of Jesus incurred the hostility of their fellow Jews. One sees here already even the imaginatively constructed dramatic scenes in and around the synagogue that appear in History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel. What is missing is any reference to the Birkath ha-Minim on the Jewish side. Thus while the relevance of aposynagogoi is noted, it plays a somewhat less important role than in the book. Nevertheless, the indications of setting in the Gospel led Martyn to look for a corresponding situation in post-70 Judaism, which in his further research he finds in the promulgation of the Twelfth Benediction. Shortly after the publication of this major book, Martyn presented “Source Criticism and Religionsgeschichte in the Fourth Gospel” to the first Gospels Seminar of the Society of Biblical Literature (November 1969) and also before the Pittsburgh Theological Seminary Festival on the Gospels.21 In that paper he correlates his own thesis with Robert Fortna’s source criticism (see below), with side glances at the works of Käsemann and Meeks in particular. His subsequent book The Gospel of John in Christian History (1979), which draws together 20. Martyn, Gospel of John in Christian History, 56. 21. Published in the proceedings of that conference, Jesus and Man’s Hope, vol. 1 (1970), 247–73.

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with some revision essays offered in the years intervening, appeared earlier in the same year as the revised edition of History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel (1979). In these essays Martyn advances three separate but related theses. He proposes that the evangelist has suppressed the identification of Jesus with Elijah found in his source. He analyzes the so-called Ascents of James in the Pseudo-Clementines and shows how it reflects a Jewish-Christian synagogal setting with real affinities and relationships with that of the Fourth Gospel. Finally, he draws together his earlier work by presenting “Glimpses into the History of the Johannine Community” (145–67 in this volume). In this essay, as well as the one on Elijah, Martyn’s basic agreement with, and appropriation of, the source criticism of Robert Fortna is very much in the forefront.22 Although Fortna was Martyn’s student at Union Theological Seminary, his work had an independent beginning point. Fortna undertook a source-critical analysis of the Fourth Gospel on the basis of convictions growing out of his careful and detailed study of earlier source theories, particularly Rudolf Bultmann’s. Initially forgoing theological criteria, which are easily suspect of being subjective, and stylistic criteria, which are at least initially indecisive, Fortna undertook a careful study of the text of the Gospel, looking for telltale contextual traces of an author’s annotating or supplementing an earlier text. It was Fortna’s belief, which he tested by exegetical analysis, that the evidence of such redactional use of an earlier source could best be explained on the basis of a rather simple two-layer hypothesis, Grundschrift and later redaction and elaboration. As it turned out, the Grundschrift was discovered primarily in the narrative portions of John (signs and passion), and the evangelist’s elaborations not surprisingly in the discourses that follow, or are interlarded among, the narrative portions. Fortna’s source theory might have become one of a rather large library of such efforts, which might—but need not—be true, had it not been integrally related to such an overall view as has been worked out by Martyn. The Gospel of Signs in the Martyn-Fortna proposal becomes the evangelistic tract that formed the basis of the missionary efforts by believing Jews in synagogues. That it consisted of miracles and passion corresponded perfectly with Martyn’s scenario, for precisely the miracles are signs demonstrating the truth of the claim that Jesus was prophet Messiah. Moreover, the death of the messianic claimant would of necessity have been dealt with in the context of the synagogue, where it caused offense, and belief in the resurrection could not be assumed. That the miracles of Jesus are not signs in the synoptics, but only in John, further strengthens the linkage of Fortna’s source analysis with Martyn’s overall theory. While Martyn’s thesis does not require Fortna’s source-critical 22. See Robert T. Fortna, The Gospel of Signs: A Reconstruction of the Narrative Source Underlying the Fourth Gospel, SNTSMS 11 (1970).

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results precisely, it does require some cogent explanation of how the content of the Gospel of John, particularly the narrative content, is linked to the synagogue controversy. Fortna’s work supplies that link, and Martyn has continued to regard it as essentially correct. Moreover, it has the virtues of coherence and plausibility. The Johannine narratives do not seem to be drawn from the Synoptic Gospels. At the same time they stand out from the rest of the Gospel and, on Fortna’s reading, form a coherent whole. Interestingly, as Martyn builds upon the essential correctness of Fortna’s source-critical work, so Fortna now views Martyn’s thesis as congruent with his own work. This is evident in his later book, where he writes, “I find highly persuasive the detailed reconstruction of Martyn in his History and Theology, in particular his proposal that expulsion of the Evangelist’s Christian community from the synagogue has occasioned many of the differences between source and extant Gospel.”23 Nevertheless, Fortna indicates that his own focus continues to be on the texts themselves, particularly on the theological shifts that can be observed between the Signs Gospel, and the Gospel of John. Less explicit, but no less intriguing is the question of the relationship of Martyn’s thesis about Jamnia and the Gospel of John to his Union colleague W. D. Davies’s proposal linking the Gospel of Matthew to the sequence of events that led to the emergence of the Jamnian Academy or College.24 Suffice it to say that the parallels are broad and general, but both Martyn and Davies see the respective Gospels as Christian responses to a crisis brought on by the retrenchment of Jewish thought and life that “Jamnia” represents. While for Martyn John is more a crisis document than is Matthew for Davies, the latter nevertheless rests his case on the view that Matthew was a Christian response, and an alternative, to Jamnia. Thus its halakhic character. In fact, it was Davies who first described how the Twelfth Benediction might have applied to, or been used against, Christians who were seeking to remain within the synagogue. Obviously, Davies and Martyn share similar views of when the Birkath ha-Minim was composed (in the 80s) and where its focus and purpose lay, as Martyn acknowledges. Davies’s book antedates Martyn by five years, but while there are affinities and points of contact, Martyn does not deal with Davies’s thesis. By the same token, although Davies could not have taken account of Martyn when writing The Setting of the Sermon on the Mount, to the best of my knowledge he did not later comment on Martyn’s thesis regarding the Johannine community in any formal way. The question of such relationships is more than a matter of a possibly interesting scholarly connection, for substantive issues are involved. Can it be that such different Gospels arose out of parallel or closely related circumstances? If 23. Robert T. Fortna, The Fourth Gospel and Its Predecessors: From Narrative Source to Present Gospel (1988), 224. 24. See W. D. Davies, The Setting of the Sermon on the Mount (1966), 256–315, esp. 275–86.

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one Gospel arose out of the post-Jamnian rivalry between Judaism and the movement that was becoming Christianity, is it likely the other did as well? It is not impossible to think they both did, especially in view of the fact that they would represent different sorts of encounter and response. But just the differences posited are intriguing. Although, as we have observed, Martyn does not deal with or react to Davies’s thesis, in a most significant observation he points out that John refuses to engage in argument with his Pharisaic opponents on their terms. That is, he eschews midrashic debate on terms laid down or presupposed by Jewish opponents.25 (Nevertheless, John is convinced that Scripture, rightly understood, supports his cause.) Just such midrashic debate would seem to be what Matthew was engaged in, albeit in a different, narrative genre. From Davies’s standpoint, Matthew undertakes debate with post-Jamnian, Pharisaic Judaism on terms they largely share. With John it is precisely the case that the most crucial terms are not shared. John 7:40–42 illustrates the point very well. Does John not know Matthew or Matthew’s (and Luke’s) tradition of Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem, which is set forth precisely and explicitly as the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecy (Mic. 5:1–3) and Jewish expectation? Or if he knows, does he simply pass it up because he does not want to engage in debate while conceding this common ground? Whatever one makes of John’s relation to Matthew, his silence is telling. It is possible to maintain that John expects the reader to know Matthew and to appreciate the irony of the Jews’ ignorance. If so, the evangelist is quite subtle on this point, and never reveals to the unknowing reader (or modern scholar!) that he is engaging in such subtlety. In any event, he chooses not to point out the Jews’ (or the disciples’) failure to understand, as he does elsewhere (such as 2:21–22). In fact, Martyn’s assessment of John’s rejection of a common basis for midrash seems to fit this pericope perfectly. Of course, we cannot here attempt to resolve this exegetical issue, much less the problem of John’s relation to the Synoptics. But the question of how to understand John 7:40–42 points up how fruitful a discussion over these matters between Martyn and Davies (from the standpoint of their respective positions) might be.26 The Continuing Influence of Martyn’s Work Perhaps Martyn’s closest and longest scholarly and collegial relationship has been with Raymond E. Brown, who was in effect Davies’s successor at Union Theological Seminary. Already in his Anchor Bible commentary (the first volume of which was published two years before Martyn’s work appeared, but too 25. Martyn, History and Theology, 123. 26. Meeks, “Breaking Away,” 94–104, 109, apparently finds both Martyn and Davies largely convincing about the Gospels of John and Matthew respectively.

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late to influence it) and before they were colleagues, Brown had suggested that John’s Gospel was written after and as a response to the situation of expulsion from the synagogue, brought about by the publication of the Twelfth Benediction of the Shemoneh Esre.27 Of course, Brown’s suggestion, which was quite important to him in fixing the date and establishing the purpose of the Fourth Gospel, was not developed in the detail and with all the nuances of Martyn’s proposal. Nevertheless, Brown continued to work on the matter in conversation with Martyn, but in some ways also independent of him. Brown extended his analysis and description of the setting and development of the Johannine literature backward to the Beloved Disciple (and ultimately Jesus) and forward to the Epistles and their relationship to the Gospel (first in his Community of the Beloved Disciple and more definitively in his Anchor Bible commentary on the Johannine Epistles28). For Brown, as well as most other interpreters, the letters of John reflect a different, presumably later, setting in which the sharp conflict with representatives of the Jews has given way to other problems. It would be misleading, however, to leave the impression that Brown simply accepted Martyn’s construction of the historical setting of the Gospel and moved on to deal with the letters. His view of the origin of the Gospel is in some ways more complex than Martyn’s and in others different. Already in the first volume of his commentary Brown had set forth the thesis that the Gospel arose in five stages of composition, beginning with the earliest oral preaching and culminating with the present canonical text, which is the product of editing by a hand later than the evangelist’s. In Community of the Beloved Disciple, Brown refined, and complicated, his thesis of Gospel origins as he discerned various interests, such as the Samaritan mission, conservative Jewish Christians, apostolic (Petrine) Christians, each playing a role at different points in the development of the Gospel. Thus as Brown developed his own reconstruction it differed with Martyn’s in more than one respect. But while the series of literary stages seems more complex, it is actually also more comprehensive. Martyn is concerned only with Fortna’s Gospel of Signs, the Grundschrift, and the subsequent controversy that leads ultimately to its expansion into the Gospel we now know. (Thus there are three stages against Brown’s five.) But Martyn actually deals only with the middle of the spectrum of development as Brown sees it and not at all with a putative development from Jesus to the original Johannine tradition or with any final redaction of the Gospel and the publication of the Letters. In addition, Brown saw the initial conflict between Christ-confessors and Jewish authorities as breaking out over theological issues at a point at which Samaritan Christian influence began to assert itself in the Johannine community. 27. See Brown, John, lxxiv–lxxv. 28. See Raymond E. Brown, The Community of the Beloved Disciple (1979); The Epistles of John, AB 30 (1982).

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For Martyn the tensions arose as the Johannine preacher(s) vigorously prosecuted the mission to other Jews, whether through the Gospel of Signs or otherwise, and threatened to draw increasing numbers of synagogue members to belief in Jesus. Only subsequently did doctrinal considerations—that is, ditheism (chap. 5)—become the paramount issue. Brown apparently sees the tensions arising precisely with the introduction of a “high” Christology that appears to threaten monotheism and under the influence of the Samaritan Christian element of the Johannine community. The differences between Martyn and Brown are of less weight than the agreements, but they are not insignificant. Obviously, they reflect both the collegiality and the independence of two longtime friends and colleagues, even as they set an agenda for further discussion. Just as Raymond Brown, the leading commentator on the Gospel of John in America, found himself in basic agreement with Martyn’s thesis, something similar was happening across the Atlantic. In 1978 C. K. Barrett brought out a considerably revised and expanded version of his commentary, long regarded as the standard English-language commentary on the Greek text.29 Barrett did not manifest much agreement with divergent views (the independence of John from the Synoptics; the close relationship of John and Qumran) that had gained increasing support since the initial publication of his commentary. But he tacitly acknowledged that research had advanced in at least one significant respect, for he indicated his basic agreement with Martyn’s view of the circumstances of origin of John’s Gospel. It was initially the product of the sharp disputation and hostility within the synagogue between Christ-confessors and other Jews. The influence of Martyn’s thesis on Barrett’s actual commentary is less pervasive than one might expect, but that is in large part a function of the character of the commentary as a series of erudite and exceedingly useful notes on the Greek text. Nevertheless, Barrett’s agreement with Martyn’s basic thesis was significant in itself, and also as an indication of which way the winds of informed scholarly opinion were blowing. (It should be noted, however, that Barrett had already suggested the possibility of a link between the Gospel and the Birkath ha-Minim in commenting on 9:22 in the first edition of his com29. See C. K. Barrett, The Gospel According to John: An Introduction with Commentary and Notes on the Greek Text, 2nd ed. (1978). 30. Evidently, Barrett’s influence will not end with the English-speaking world. A German translation of his commentary, somewhat revised, appeared in 1990 under the title Das Evangelium nach Johannes and stands along Bultmann’s Das Evangelium des Johannes in the Meyer (KEK) series. (Apparently Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht will also keep Bultmann in print, but Barrett’s commentary will fill the need for a standard, up-to-date work.) If it would be excessive to say that, through Barrett, Martyn’s work becomes canonical in Germany as well as Great Britain, the important point is nonetheless clear. Martyn’s thesis has become a paradigm, to borrow from Thomas Kuhn. It is a part of what students imbibe from standard works, such as commentaries and textbooks, as knowledge generally received and held to be valid.

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mentary.)30 Scholarly work, of course, advances but often reflects Martyn’s influence at a quite fundamental level and in interesting ways. For example, the recent monograph of Klaus Wengst, Bedrängte Gemeinde, takes for granted the basic correctness of Martyn’s proposal and proceeds to move beyond it in determining the geographical site and place of origin of the Johannine community and Gospel.31 In a brief allusion to the matter of place of origin, Martyn had more or less dismissed the traditional site of Ephesus, but had left the door open for Alexandria.32 Now Wengst, on the basis of research principally in Josephus and rabbinic sources, proposes Batanea (the present Golan Heights) as the locus of the community that produced the Gospel of John. His reasoning actually begins from Martyn’s thesis, as he asks where in the latter part of the first century one would find an area in which Jews were the dominant, but certainly not the only, group. It would be an area in which the designation “the Jews” would be intelligible as indicating one religious and cultural grouping over against others. Wengst argues that in such an area expulsion from the synagogue would involve genuine social, religious, and perhaps economic penalties or loss. Perhaps it goes without saying that only after 70, and especially outside Palestine, would synagogue membership be the decisive mark of Jewish identity. Wengst believes, moreover, that connections and communications can be traced between Judaism in the Transjordanian highlands and Jamnia in the period soon after the Roman war. All this involves a considerable amount of inference from sources not intended to supply such information—the Gospel of John included! The thesis is, however, quite plausible, as Wayne Meeks has already observed.33 Although it may fall into that rather large body or category of research that presents conclusions that are possible and plausible without being demonstrably true, Wengst’s monograph nevertheless demonstrates how fruitful and seminal Martyn’s work has been in stimulating further creative investigations. Other instances of Martyn’s influence could easily be multiplied. I shall

For example, in Anatomy of the New Testament: A Guide to Its Structure and Meaning (1989), 170–79, Robert A. Spivey and I present Martyn’s thesis as providing historical perspective for the treatment of the Fourth Gospel. Something similar might be said of my book, John, Proclamation Commentary; 2nd ed. (1986), 38–51, or of John Painter’s excellent introduction, John: Witness and Theologian (1975), 13. That none of these works represents original scholarship is exactly the point. Insofar as they are successful in accomplishing their goals, they reflect the state of the art in Johannine research, and Martyn’s work rightly stands at their center. One might add that these books are more or less typical of works of this genre. 31. See Klaus Wengst, Bedrängte Gemeinde und verherrlichte Christus: Der historische Ort des Johannesevangelium als Schlüssel zu seiner Interpretation, Biblisch-theologische Studien 5 (1981), esp. 30 ff., n. 82. 32. See Martyn, History and Theology, 76, n. 100. 33. See Meeks, “Breaking Away,” 102–3.

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mention only two works, both of which appeared even as this essay was being completed. Jerome S. Neyrey, in Ideology of Revolt: John’s Christology in Social Science Perpsective,34 seems to assume as generally correct a picture of the conflict setting of John’s Gospel as Martyn has portrayed it. On that basis he then pursues his own new and distinctive analysis. Similarly, David Rensberger, Johannine Faith and Liberating Community,35 moves forward on the basis of Martyn, indicating his own position even as he accurately describes the present state of scholarship on the Gospel: Subsequent studies have fully confirmed the rightness of this [Martyn’s] basic insight. While few have accepted Martyn’s delineation of the action behind the Fourth Gospel in all of its details, the fundamental conception that he outlined has been elaborated in a variety of directions and has become the cornerstone of much current Johannine research.36

Thus Meeks can say confidently and rightly: The rupture between the followers of Jesus and “the Jews” is at the center of attention. It has manifestly shaped the Johannine groups’ language and their perception of the world. These features of the Johannine universe have become so widely recognized in recent scholarship that there is no need for me to rehearse the evidence.37

Needless to say, not all recent Johannine research has followed Martyn’s lead. Quite legitimately, new questions are raised, and the Gospel of John is approached from fresh perspectives. Typical of the newer literary-critical or narratological approach is Alan Culpepper’s Anatomy of the Fourth Gospel, a groundbreaking work as far as the Gospel of John is concerned.38 In that Culpepper deliberately refuses to regard the Gospel of John as a window for looking beyond the text into some atextual historical reality, whether the Jesus the text describes or the community that produced this highly distinctive account of him, he would seem to run counter to Martyn’s work. Yet, Culpepper explicitly indicates that his purpose in this regard is heuristic rather than eristic. That is, he is not disavowing historical research on its relevance, but simply setting it aside for the time being to take another tack. In fact, Culpepper’s earlier Johannine School was quite congenial with Martyn’s perspective and approach, and the results of Anatomy of the Fourth Gospel 34. Jerome S. Neyrey, in Ideology of Revolt: John’s Christology in Social Science Perspective (1988): see 3, 9–15, 35, 122–48, 196, 211. 35. David Rensberger, Johannine Faith and Liberating Community (1988). 36. Ibid., 22. 37. Meeks, “Breaking Away,” 94. 38. Alan Culpepper, Anatomy of the Fourth Gospel: A Study in Literary Design (1983). Culpepper’s earlier work, The Johannine School (1975), was a straightforward historical study.

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may be as well. Culpepper’s literary analysis of John as such does not, of course, stand or fall with whether or not it makes John conform to anything beyond the document itself. Quite the contrary. Yet, when one reads Culpepper with Martyn in mind, some remarkable convergences or congruities appear. The implied readers of the Gospel need not be actual, ancient, historical readers. Nor need the implied author reflect, or address himself to, an actual historical setting or crisis such as Martyn posits. Yet, Culpepper’s analysis of the implied author’s role and interest, as well as those of the implied readers, actually fits rather well a historical situation in which a threatened or oppressed community (Wengst) draws upon its perception of its founder and master to find resources to face the present threat. Although the symbolic role of the Jews as foes of Jesus’ disciples, not to mention Jesus himself, need have had no genuine historical counterpart, the existence of such referenced historical counterparts is certainly not excluded by viewing the Gospel from a literary-critical perspective, as Culpepper has done. It would be unfair to Culpepper’s own worthwhile project to imply that its value lies in confirming Martyn’s contribution. But just the fact that by pursuing a different goal, from a different perspective, and with different methods, Culpepper has produced an analysis of John’s Gospel that is in many respects congruent with Martyn’s historical reconstruction is something that needs to be considered carefully in further historical investigations, whatever may be done on the literary-critical side. Important work done outside the “Johannine school” may also reflect Martyn’s influence or have bearing upon his work. Another scholar who studied with Martyn at Union, E. P. Sanders, has within the past decade produced two impressive and important works, Paul and Palestinian Judaism and Jesus and Judaism.39 I wish to focus briefly on only one aspect of the latter work— namely, Sanders’s contention that the Gospels (and Sanders actually deals only with the Synoptics) vastly overplay Jesus’ conflict with the Pharisees. For Sanders the conflict between Jesus and the Pharisees over fasting, Sabbathbreaking, purity, and the like is principally the product of later Jewish-Christian tension, retrojected upon the ministry of Jesus. What is the basis for this seemingly daring contradiction of what most readers have taken to be the weight and thrust of the Gospel’s portrayal of Jesus? Certainly Matthew’s Gospel, even more than Mark or Luke, puts the Pharisees in a poor light and suggests that some such conflict was or had been in progress. It is worth observing that in Luke’s Gospel the Pharisees do not always appear in a negative role (13:31), while in Acts the seat of Jewish opposition to Jesus’ disciples is to be found in Jerusalem among the high priests, the Sadducees, and temple authorities, rather than among Pharisees. Paul, who 39. E. P. Sanders, Paul and Palestinian Judaism (1977); idem., Jesus and Judaism (1985).

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was a Pharisee, does not identify his Jewish, or Jewish-Christian, opponents as Pharisees or Pharisaic per se. When he refers to himself as a Pharisee (Phil. 3:5; compare Acts 23:6) it is in an entirely positive way, even though he may be speaking of a past from which he has departed. Elsewhere in the New Testament Pharisees are scarcely mentioned—except, of course, in the Gospel of John. John’s Pharisees are quintessential Jews. They represent the essence of Jewish opposition to Jesus—that is, to early Christians. Thus if one asks for evidence of sharp conflict between early Christians and specifically Pharisaic Jews, the weightiest witness would be the Gospel of John, understood along the lines that Martyn suggests. As Martyn understands it, this conflict is not—or is not only—symbolic, literary, or theological. It represents the culmination of a long struggle, first within the synagogue and then between synagogue and church, developing over many years. Certainly Martyn himself does not think this struggle began with the publication of the Birkath ha-Minim. It goes back at least to the period following the end of the Roman War (70 C.E.), probably before.40 Whether it has earlier roots might be important for Sanders. Perhaps the fact that Martyn did not trace the roots into the prewar period, and differentiated the Johannine situation from the tensions spoken of in Acts and Paul, has something to do with the fact that Sanders does not make much of the Fourth Gospel or of Martyn’s proposal. If the Johannine conflict is more or less post- or extra-synoptic, it would have relatively less positive bearing on Sanders’s thesis about Jesus and the Pharisees than if it could be traced to a time contemporary with the development of the synoptic tradition. (In that case, John might shed light on what was going on in the Synoptics or the synoptic tradition.) To speculate further on such matters is intriguing and suggests the possibility of fruitful dialogue between Martyn and Sanders— who was actually Davies’s doctoral student at Union—as well as between Martyn and Davies. It is worth observing, however, that Martyn’s proposal of two levels of Johannine conflict, one in the time of Jesus and one in the time of the church, stands in interesting relationship to Sanders’s recent work on Jesus. Martyn is quite careful to distinguish his analysis of these two levels from John’s own selfawareness or intent. That is, he does not claim that the two levels constitute a deliberate and conscious technique. Indeed, the evangelist would have insisted upon the unity of the two levels.41 The Johannine church’s struggle with its Pharisaic Jewish opponents toward the end of the first century is, in the evangelist’s view, the same struggle as Jesus’ struggle with Pharisees in the first half of the same century. If John knew of historical differences, they were irrelevant or unimportant to him. It is striking that on Sanders’s terms John would have 40. See Martyn, The Gospel of John in Christian History, 99. 41. See below, 131.

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been, historically speaking, wrong about the identity of the two levels of conflict. The historical Jesus had no principal conflict with the Pharisees. This conclusion would presumably be less damaging to Martyn’s point of view, which does not require the historicity of the einmalig level, as he calls it, than it would be to the evangelist’s. The latter presumably took for granted that he wrote about a real conflict with real Pharisees with which Jesus, as well as his own community, was involved. Obviously, we have now raised possibilities that go beyond Martyn’s thesis in order to reflect, in what may turn out to be a suggestive and useful way, on its implications. Hopefully, such reflections stimulated by Martyn’s work show how enormously fructifying his creative imagination and research have been, not only for the study of the Fourth Gospel but for other and related matters of New Testament history and interpretation as well.

Postscript for Third Edition of Martyn, History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel As its title indicates, Martyn’s classic volume has two major and interrelated foci, issues of an essentially historical sort, and issues more clearly theological in nature. Both remain at the center of Johannine research and writing, although discussion of Martyn’s work has focused primarily on its historical dimensions. History A year after the original publication of my essay reproduced above, John Ashton’s magisterial Understanding the Fourth Gospel appeared.42 Ashton saw in the work of Rudolf Bultmann and J. Louis Martyn the two major pillars or benchmarks of Johannine scholarship in the twentieth century. Bultmann had rightly identified the theological issues and bearing of the Fourth Gospel, but had not set them in a credible historical context that could be documented from outside the Gospel itself. That task was left to Martyn, who saw that “the Jews” of the Fourth Gospel were more than theological symbols. They were real actors who figured importantly in the generation of this Gospel and needed to be identified. It remained for Martyn to flesh out who these actors were. In Ashton’s judgment Martyn had performed this task in the most convincing 42. Ashton, Understanding the Fourth Gospel (1991).

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way possible. Whereas Bultmann’s John hung in the air and its Jews were ciphers for unbelief, Martyn gave the Gospel a home and identified its Jews as real people. Most New Testament exegetes working on the Gospel of John and the history of early Christianity have found Martyn’s basic thesis persuasive, principally because it makes the narrative text of John understandable. Why are “the Jews” so central, and why is expulsion from the synagogue an issue? On the other hand, most rabbinic experts who have turned their attention to Martyn’s arguments have remained unpersuaded. I cited a number of these scholars earlier (Kimelman, Katz, and Schäfer, 8, n. 17). Now, in turning his attention to this issue, Daniel Boyarin has vigorously advanced the case against Martyn’s appropriation of the Twelfth Benediction, the benediction against heretics, to illumine the Johannine setting from the Jewish side.43 Boyarin’s position is that no such version of the benediction as Martyn proposes existed sufficiently early as to have played a role in Johannine origins. Nor was there a Jamnian magisterium with the authority to promulgate such excommunications. This issue is vexed, and the claim that the benediction played a role in Johannine origins is, on any accounting, subject to doubt. Ashton’s observation is, however, still relevant: “But the plausibility of the hypothesis depends on the light it sheds on the Gospel; and, in any case, Martyn’s reading of ch. 9 is not built upon his interpretation of the Eighteen Benedictions; at most it is buttressed by it.”44 Historically viewed, this assertion is true. After having postulated the role of aposynagogos in the development of the Fourth Gospel in his unpublished doctoral dissertation (Yale, 1957), Martyn discovered what he thought was its Jewish counterpart. But that came later in History and Theology in the Fourth Gospel (1968), as I point out above (9). Alternatively, it is conceivable that expulsions from the synagogue occurred (or were threatened), but were prior to, and perhaps even unrelated to, the formulation of the Twelfth Benediction. In some sense, the Twelfth Benediction and rabbinic statements made about it “work” to explain Johannine origins. The original identity of the minim and notzrim in the one version of the Twelfth Benediction hit upon by Martyn is at best unclear, as is its date. Could the setting of John’s Gospel explain such a statement? Martyn’s thesis, whether justifiable or not, needs to be viewed as an effort to illuminate the benediction, and ancient rabbinic statements about it, as well as the origin of the Gospel of John. Moreover, Martyn has not only reconstructed the hypothetical synagogue controversy from 43. Daniel Boyarin, “Justin Martyr Invents Judaism,” Church History 70 (2001), 427–61. That Martyn continues to stand at the center of discussion is manifest in the article of Colleen M. Conway, “The Production of the Johannine Community: A New Historicist Perspective,” JBL 121 (2002), 479–95, as well as Robert Kysar’s 2002 SBL paper, “Expulsion from the Synagogue: A Tale of a Theory,” to which I responded at the meeting. 44. Ashton, Understanding the Fourth Gospel, 109, n. 102. Similarly, Stephen G. Wilson, Related Strangers: Jews and Christians 70–170 C.E. (1995), 73: “It is not essential to connect the expulsion from the synagogue with the Birkat ha-minim.”

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within the Fourth Gospel. He has also carefully studied the Pseudo-Clementine literature and cogently argued that it presents an inner-synagogue situation similar to what lies behind the Gospel of John.45 Some exegetes who have rejected Martyn seem to read his thesis in the following way: The hypothetical Jamnian authorities, “the Jews,” are the heirs of the Pharisees, who opposed Jesus, and, indeed, the Pharisees and “the Jews” in John are interchangeable. These Jamnian authorities rejected the claims made for Jesus and, in the 80s, instituted the synagogue ban so as to expel from synagogues everywhere Jews who believed that Jesus was the messiah. Thus the sundrance between Christians and Jews, which has endured to this day, was the product of Pharisaic Jews, the opponents of Jesus and of the Johannine community, as well as the architects of the rabbinic Judaism that has shaped all Judaism, particularly Orthodox Judaism, down to the present. Obviously such a construal is subject to question at a number of points. That the Rabbis of Jamnia exercised such control toward the end of the first century may be improbable. (That they were of a mind to exercise such control is a different, but not unrelated, matter. That some of them were of a mind to exercise such control is again a different, but not unrelated matter.) Thus Martyn’s position can be caricatured as maintaining that a monolithic rabbinic Judaism expelled all Jews who believed in Jesus so that they were forced to become something else, presumably Christians, and thus began to refer to their erstwhile (Jewish) opponents as “the Jews.” Although this approach may be a caricature of Martyn’s position, it is not a falsification, but a statement of it bereft of any nuancing or qualification. Taken in this way, this stance also may make a Jewish establishment seem responsible for the separation of Christians who would have gladly remained in the synagogue. Let us assume for the moment that no monolithic Jewish establishment existed at the time John’s Gospel was composed, or developed. Was there anything on the Johannine side, aside from messianic claims about Jesus, that would have incensed their Jewish coreligionists and led to expulsion and separation from the synagogue? Even a casual reading of John 5 suggests there was, for Jesus is given every opportunity to issue a disclaimer when he is said to make himself equal to God (5:18). But instead of seizing a loophole, John’s Jesus does just the opposite, using the occasion to promote his equality with God, and the only disclaimer is that the Father has shown him what to do, which is what God himself is doing. Jesus’ statements about himself and his role fly in the face of traditional biblical monotheism. For good reason, Ashton suspects, as did Raymond Brown, that such claims about Jesus preceded and precipitated expulsion from the synagogue, and understandably so.46 (Martyn placed expulsion from 45. Martyn, Gospel of John in Christian History, 55–89 (chap. 2: “Persecution and Martyrdom”). 46. Ashton, Understanding the Fourth Gospel, 167; cf. Brown, Community of the Beloved Disciple, 34–54, esp. 36–40, 42–47, 174.

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the synagogue before, rather than after, the introduction of such a Christology.) Martyn’s thesis about Johannine origins has not been so significant because it has explained every aspect of that process satisfactorily, or in detail. Rather, it holds out greater promise for such explanation than any comparable theses. (On Martyn’s own premises plenty of room is available to see two sides of this story, the Jewish as well as the Jewish-Christian, as doubtless there were.) This is why it has changed the landscape so much. It has encouraged us to look in a new direction in our quest for the key to unlocking the secrets of how this strangely different Gospel began. In recent years interest has shifted back in the direction of literary function and theological bearing of “the Jews” in John’s Gospel. But those whose interests are centered there often embrace some version of Martyn’s thesis as a kind of historical basis. For example, Francis J. Moloney, whose interests are literary, but also fundamentally theological, doubts the connection of synagogue expulsion with the Birkath ha-Minim and Gamaliel II in the 80s of the first century. Yet he takes the event of separation to have been real and historically important.47 Something similar seems to be the case in Adele Reinhartz’s Befriending the Beloved Disciple.48 The revival of scholarly concerns about anti-Judaism in the Fourth Gospel, which gave rise to such significant expressions as the 2000 Louvain Conference, doubtless owes much to Martyn’s thesis. In one of the volumes emerging from that meeting, Anti-Judaism and the Fourth Gospel, Martyn is still the most frequently cited figure. Every author but two cites him, usually at the outset of the essay. Although Martyn’s goal was first of all exegetical and historical, as well as theological, his thesis doubtlessly has in important ways shaped the broader discussion. That broader discussion is important, as Martyn would readily acknowledge, but historical issues have a certain necessity and priority. As Martyn has succinctly and sharply put it: “Modern relations between Christians and Jews are not helped by an antihistorical interpretation of Biblical texts.”49 Theology Weighty and crucial as the historical issues are, it would be a mistake to allow a preoccupation with any of them—that of the Twelfth Benediction, for example—to shift the focus away from Martyn’s major theological contribution, the 47. Moloney, “‘The Jews’ in the Fourth Gospel: Another Perspective,” Pacifica 15 (Feb. 2002), 16–36, esp. 33–35. 48. Reinhartz, Befriending the Beloved Disciple: A Jewish Reading of the Gospel of John (2001). Although earlier on Reinhartz mirrors scholarly skepticism about Martyn’s thesis (37–40), she later seems to concede that John does reflect the historical fact of separation, probably interpreted quite differently by the opposing parties (96–97).Wilson, Related Strangers, 73, also takes the rupture to have been historical. 49. Martyn, Gospel of John in Christian History, 56; cf. above, 9.

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reading of John’s Gospel as a two-level drama. We can say, indeed, that in John’s dramatic narrative the Word’s becoming flesh has created a truly new history, one that stretches into the present without leaving the past. Thus, the retrospective character of the narrative, which, theologically speaking, is the work of the Paraclete. In characterizing Martyn’s interpretation of John, I have remarked elsewhere, “the narrative operates at two levels, that of Jesus himself and that of the Johannine Christians and community. To elucidate John’s theology means not to destroy his narrative, but to show how its theological emphases arose from and relate to the emergence of that community. . . .”50 In a word, the theology of the Fourth Gospel bears a distinctly communal stamp, arising from the certainty that the true narrative of Jesus is the story of who he was among his disciples and who he is, as he continues to give life itself to the Johannine community.51 Yet an anonymous evangelist gave this Gospel a distinctive character and earned for himself the title John the Theologian. If Paul was the first Christian theologian, this John was the second.

50. D. Moody Smith, The Theology of the Gospel of John (1995), xi. 51. Cf. Leander E. Keck, Who Is Jesus? History in Perfect Tense (2000).

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HISTORY AND THEOLOGY IN THE FOURTH GOSPEL

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INTRODUCTION

Last of all, John, perceiving that the external facts had been made plain in the [other] Gospels, and being urged by his friends and inspired by the Spirit, composed a spiritual Gospel. —Clement of Alexandria (quoted by Eusebius, H.E. vi, 14, 7)

1. The Problem More than any other document in the New Testament, the Fourth Gospel has seemed consistently to invite readers in every century to interpret it solely in their own terms. In the Synoptic Gospels, “external facts” are given, and such facts tie those Gospels securely to the time in which they were written. There one encounters a first-century Jew of faraway Palestine, a figure who, however inspiring, stands firmly in his own time and place. He is a Galilean in the original meaning of that term, and while we may listen to many of his words in a direct and simple manner even in our modern age, no reader of the first three Gospels can fail to sense the many ways in which the synoptic Jesus is far removed from the Western world of today. Like other gifted healers of antiquity, for example, he believes in demons, powers who take up residence in unfortunate persons and who may be exorcised by mighty words. John’s Gospel, on the other hand, seems far more detached from its ancient setting. The very mention of this Gospel causes most of us to think of those marvelous discourses of Jesus, in the reading of which one feels immediately warmed by such “spiritual” and timeless affirmations as, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” Some of the Johannine Jesus’ words seem to be so free of any first-century Palestinian provincialism that we chisel them into the walls of our university libraries, from Chicago to Freiburg, implying that they are philosophical aphorisms, immediately understood in every enlightened age: “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” The moderately careful reader discovers, of course, that even this spiritual Gospel has its quite earthy moments. The marvelously general statement above, to take just one example, occurs in the midst of a disquieting, sharp, even unpleasant exchange between Jesus and a group of Jews. For reasons

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which will certainly take some explaining, Jesus accuses his questioners of trying to murder him, contests their claim to be descended from Abraham, and furthermore suggests that these Jews have as their father neither Abraham nor God, but the devil. Such discoveries are bound to be disquieting. Yet the source of one’s discomfort may be easily enough put aside if one will only be selective in his reading. Within a given chapter—chapter 8, for example, where the saying quoted above is found—one may carefully pick the flowers from among the thorns. Or, considering the Gospel as a whole, one may give most of his attention to the great discourses in chapters 14–16, and, if he has a modicum of mystical sensitivity, he may easily read the “spiritual Gospel” in this way without bothering himself one whit about the world of the first century. Unlike Luther’s prophets of ancient Israel, John seems to speak our modern languages with relative ease.1 However, for a number of reasons, many persons will refuse the alternative of selective reading, and for them the troublesome elements will remain. To return to the example of chapter 8, why should the Johannine Jesus, himself a Jew, engage in such an intensely hostile exchange with “the Jews”? The question is especially pressing in light of Jesus’ clear statement to the Samaritan woman in chapter 4 that “salvation is from the Jews.” One is reminded that while some scholars have characterized John’s Gospel as the most Jewish of the four, others have argued with equal vigor that it is of all New Testament documents the furthest removed from Judaism. Such confusion should compel us to look again at the problems surrounding the origin of this Gospel. Spiritual—in some sense—it may be. It did not, however, drop from heaven straight into our time, and while we are all willing, no doubt, to agree that it did not, we must go further and energetically seek to define the particular circumstances in response to which this Fourth Gospel was written. To do so is not to make a journey, of course, into virgin territory. For well over a century scholarly detectives have sifted the evidence and have found no problem in New Testament study more consistently baffling. Furthermore, the question about the circumstances in which the Fourth Evangelist wrote his Gospel is only one of a number of interrelated and highly perplexing problems having to do with the origin of that document.2 Who was the author? Did he pen also the three Johannine Epistles? In what language did he write the 1. Luther’s famous remark shows, of course, not only that he was keenly aware of the technical difficulties involved in translating ancient Hebrew texts, but also that he sensed how foreign to his time and place in sixteenth-century Germany were the voices of the Israelite prophets: “How difficult it is to make the ancient prophets speak German!” 2. A. Hamack’s old saying is still being quoted: “The origin of the Johannine Gospel is . . . the greatest riddle presented to us by the earliest history of Christianity.” Lehrbuch der Dogmengeschichte (1931), vol. 1, 108; cf. van Unnik in The Gospels Reconsidered (1960), 168.

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Gospel, and what written sources, if any, did he employ? In what general thought-world did his mind move? Whom did he wish to have as his readers, and what purpose did he have in mind as he wrote for them? Where does his work stand in the history of Christian thought? At what date did he write, and where did he live? On each of these issues an unusually wide spectrum of opinion, ancient as well as modern, presents itself to the student of Christian origins. One has but to read the summaries of recent work on the Fourth Gospel by Ernst Haenchen, Hartwig Thyen, Robert Kysar, and Rudolf Schnackenburg to see that the “Johannine problem,” far from being settled, has grown during the last quartercentury, both in extent and in depth.3 Relatively few firm conclusions are shared by scholars who have troubled themselves to work with the document itself. In the present essay we will be concerned in one way or another with several of the questions listed above. Some light on the date of the Gospel may come from the present work, and a few readers may find their ideas regarding its place of origin indirectly confirmed or threatened. We may hope to gain a clearer portrait of at least some of John’s prospective readers and, most important of all, a better understanding of his purpose in writing. Our first task, however, is to say something as specific as possible about the actual circumstances in which John wrote his Gospel. How are we to picture daily life in John’s church? Have elements of its peculiar daily experiences left their stamp on the Gospel penned by one of its members? May one sense even in its exalted cadences the voice of a Christian theologian who writes in response to contemporary events and issues which concern, or should concern, all members of the Christian community in which he lives? If we should encounter data in the Gospel which indicate an affirmative answer to these questions—and we shall do so very shortly—it becomes imperative that we make every effort to take up temporary residence in the Johannine community. We must see with the eyes and hear with the ears of that community. We must sense at least some of the crises that helped to shape the lives of its members. And we must listen carefully to the kind of conversations in which all of its members found themselves engaged. Only in the midst of this endeavor will we be able to hear the Fourth Evangelist speak in his own terms, rather than in words which we moderns merely want to hear from his mouth. And initially it is only in his own terms that he can speak to our time.

3. Ernst Haenchen, “Aus der Literatur zum Johannesevangelium 1929–1956,” ThR, N.F. 23 (1955), 295–335; H. Thyen, “Aus der Literatur zum Johannesevangelium,” ThR 39 (1974), 1–69, 222–52, 289–330; 42 (1977), 211–70; R. Kysar, The Fourth Evangelist and His Gospel (1975); R. Schnackenburg, “Entwicklung und Stand der johanneischen Forschung seit 1955,” M. de Jonge (ed.), L’Evangile de Jean. Sources, rédaction, théologie (1977), 19–44.

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Introduction

2. An Approach to the Problem How shall we sharpen our senses so as to perceive elements in the Gospel which are clues to the circumstances in which it was written? A word about the role of tradition in early Christian thought may help us find such an approach. The early church shared with many groups of its time a concern for tradition which exceeds by far that known to most of us. The past—specific events and teachings of the past—lived on with power and somehow mingled with events of the present. To the ancients it was far more obvious than it is to us that one’s response to contemporary issues involves careful consideration of the traditions inherited from one’s forebears. Indeed it was responsible contemporary involvement which most often sharpened the sense of need for tradition and which is therefore mainly to be thanked for preserving the voice of the past. Of course not everyone in the early church viewed alike the relationship between a concern for tradition and effective involvement in contemporary issues. One of the most pressing needs in New Testament study may be a careful analysis of the various ways in which New Testament authors viewed this relationship.4 No one will want to insist, I think, that the problem of connecting past tradition with current concerns is viewed in precisely the same way by, say, Paul and Matthew. Yet each has wrestled long and honestly and effectively with just this problem, and a priori there is no reason to doubt that each may have a much-needed word for us as we face the same problem. One thing, at least, is shared by all New Testament authors in this regard: none of them merely repeats the tradition. Everyone hears it in his own present and that means in his own way; everyone shapes it, bends it, makes selections from among its riches, even adds to it. Put in other terms, everyone reverences the tradition enough to make it his own. Consequently, when we read the Fourth Gospel, we are listening both to tradition and to a new and unique interpretation of that tradition. With certain reservations, one may compare his experience in this regard with that of listening to Dvor˙ák’s New World Symphony. There the influence of haunting melodies from Negro spirituals seems unmistakable, and it is obvious that the primitive power of these songs has been felt and honored by the composer. But it is equally obvious that the traditional materials have not been quoted, but rather newly interpreted by the composer for his own time and in response to forces exerted on him in his own milieu. We cannot understand the New World Symphony without studying carefully the traditional melodies which Dvor˙ák heard during his American visit, but we must also be at pains to sense the cultural context for which and in which the great European composer interpreted 4. I have attempted a modest contribution in “Attitudes Ancient and Modern toward Tradition about Jesus,” USQR 23 (1968), 129–45, published also in Student World 60 (1967), 359–72.

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those melodies. Corresponding requirements obtain in the study of John’s Gospel. But now we must proceed carefully. How shall we locate the “traditional melodies” that John received from the past? Were we concerned with Luke, for example, we could assume with probability that we possess a document (Mark) very nearly like one which our author employed. The corresponding assumption is not open to us, I think, when we study the Gospel of John. For good reasons the dominant opinion lies against the view that John used any one of the other Gospels known to us.5 If we return to our musical comparison, we will need to suppose for the moment that while the traditional spirituals were available to Dvor˙ák, they are known to us only as they stand imbedded in his symphony. But that is not quite true! While John does not seem to have used the other Gospels known to us, he did after all write a Gospel. To make the comparison fit, we must actually suppose that several composers have provided us with “new world symphonies,” all employing to some degree the same traditional spirituals. One of these composers seems to have worked independently of the others, but he was influenced by some of the same themes. Thus, by comparing John with the Synoptic Gospels we can indeed identify many pieces which are obviously traditional: the preaching of John the Baptist, Jesus’ own baptism, the calling of disciples, miracles of healing, sharp words of conflict, the triumphal entry into Jerusalem, the cleansing of the Temple, the Last Supper, the betrayal, the trial, crucifixion, resurrection. Others could be added. On the other hand, it is easy to see that John has handled most of these traditional elements in ways which diverge sharply from those followed by the synoptists. And there are the long discourses, already referred to, which are quite peculiar to John and in which one finds recurring themes not matched in the Synoptics. 5. The tide was turned against the theory of dependence by P. Gardner-Smith, St. John and the Synoptic Gospels (1938). See also C. H. Dodd, Historical Tradition in the Fourth Gospel (1963), and the bibliography in R. E. Brown, John, li. One must also take note of the fact that the thesis that the Fourth Evangelist knew and depended on the Synoptic Gospels is now being vigorously and impressively revived, notably by Frans Neirynck. See his article “John and the Synoptics,” in M. de Jonge (ed.), L’Evangile de Jean, 73–106. The pertinent questions are also being addressed in a seminar of Studiorum Novi Testamenti Societas under Nierynck’s direction. Perhaps the consensus which ruled prior to Gardner-Smith’s work will reemerge! One can see that it has considerable support in Belgium and Holland; note the article by M. Sabbe, “The Arrest of Jesus in Jn 18, 1–11 and Its Relation to the Synoptic Gospels,” M. de Jonge (ed.), L’Evangile de Jean, 203–34. Up to the present, however, I have to say that the impressive arguments of Neirynck have not proved convincing to me because the thesis of John’s dependence on the Synoptics still seems to create more problems than it solves. For example, if the Johannine church had the Synoptics, it is difficult to understand, as my colleague Raymond Brown has pointed out to me, why the author of the First Epistle of John would not have drawn upon some of their ethical materials in his effort to combat his opponents.

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Just here a way of approaching our problem emerges. There are in John three miracles of healing: the army officer’s son in Capernaum (4:46–54), the lame man at Bethesda in Jerusalem (5:1–9), and the blind beggar near the Temple (9:1–7). All three of these pieces have counterparts in the Synoptic Gospels; they are traditional stories. However, if we read their synoptic parallels and then turn to their use by John, two things strike us immediately: (1) in the cases of the lame man and the blind beggar, John’s Gospel shows the miracle story to be the first of a sequence of scenes. About this we will have more to say in a moment. Just now it is important to emphasize that by constructing a sequence of scenes based on the miracle story, someone created a literary genre quite without counterpart in the body of the Gospels.6 We may indeed call it a drama. (2) That this “someone” was John himself would seem to be highly probable for reasons that will be presented below. It is just possible, then, that careful attention to style and to accents characteristic of the discourses will enable us to distinguish—at least in the stories of the lame man and the blind beggar— between (a) traditional materials and (b) passages in which elements of John’s own interests and experiences are more or less clearly reflected.

6. So far as I can see the first productive hint of this fact was given by J. M. Thompson in an article entitled “An Experiment in Translation,” The Expositor, Eighth Series, vol. 16 (1918), 117–25. See also the superb study by Hans Windisch, “Der johanneische Erzählungsstil,” Eucharisterion, vol. 2 (1923), 174–213.

Part I A Synagogue-Church Drama: Erecting the Wall of Separation

Chapter 1

A BLIND BEGGAR RECEIVES HIS SIGHT

“So he went and washed and came back seeing.”

1. Literary Analysis We begin with John 9 for two reasons. It is a narrative which obviously rests on Christian tradition.7 And it is constructed in a way that is particularly inviting to the careful reader who wants to distinguish elements that are traditional from those that appear to come from the Fourth Evangelist himself.8 a. A Miracle Story (vv. 1–7) From a number of similar stories in the Synoptic Gospels and even in other Hellenistic literature, we know about an oral form of tradition which we term a miracle story.9 The form is naturally somewhat plastic, and we will do well to keep that in mind. Nevertheless we may speak with confidence of three elements which are very often found in the miracle story form.10 1. There is a description of the sickness, often emphasizing its serious nature (cf. Mark 2:3). 7. The Synoptic Gospels offer only two independent stories of Jesus restoring sight to the blind: the narrative about Bartimaeus (Mark 10:46–52, with parallel forms in Matt. 9:27–31; Matt. 20:29–34; and Luke 18:35–43) and a story in which Jesus employs spittle to heal a nameless resident of Bethsaida (Mark 8:22–26). The second of these has the greater number of points in common with John 9:1–7. 8. It is crucial to note that for the literary analysis pursued at this juncture, and at other key points in the present work, the basic criteria are provided by the discipline of form criticism. Thus the major theses that emerge do not depend on any of the current attempts to isolate one or more of the evangelist’s sources. At a few points I have, however, referred to the hypothesis that John employed as one of his sources a Signs Source or Signs Gospel. 9. In the present discussion, “miracle story” refers to a narrative which relates a miracle of healing, not a nature miracle. 10. See Bultmann, History, 209 ff.; Bultmann, Form Criticism, trans. by F. C. Grant (1962), 36 ff.; Vincent Taylor, The Formation of the Gospel Tradition (19352), 121 ff.

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2. The sick person is healed (cf. Mark 2:11). 3. The miracle is confirmed; the healed person demonstrates his health (cf. Mark 2:12a) and/or the onlookers’ amazement testifies to the miracle’s reality (cf. Mark 2:12b). When we seek to determine the literary form of John 9, we find something quite similar in the opening verses: 1. A description of the malady and an indication that it is hopeless: “a man blind from his birth” (v. 1). 2. The healing itself, with a statement of means and result: “He [Jesus] spat on the ground and made a paste . . . he [the blind man] went and washed and came back seeing” (vv. 6–7). Now it is apparent that in verses 8–9 we have something very like the third element, which, while sometimes absent, is often found in such stories: a confirmation of the miracle. Here the reality of the cure is attested by some of the blind man’s neighbors; that is, they account for his sight by explaining that he is not the blind man himself, but rather someone else, perhaps a twin brother who was never blind. Three important factors, however, point to the inadequacy of treating verses 8–9 in this way. They introduce as essential characters persons not previously mentioned, the blind man’s neighbors.11 They clearly begin a new scene in which Jesus is no longer present.12 In them one’s attention begins to be focused on the formerly blind man, rather than on Jesus. But in the “normal” form of a miracle story, the sick person “comes into view simply as an object of the miraculous cure . . . the interest in him ceases once the miracle has been reported.”13 That the man’s neighbors somehow confirm the miracle may have been the third element in an earlier form of this story. In the present form of the text, however, the neighbors are employed as actors who come onstage only in a separate scene, and who introduce, therefore, what we should probably term a dramatic expansion of the original miracle story (vv. 8–41).14 11. Mark 2:6–10 appears to present a similar phenomenon by introducing the scribes late in the story (contrast Luke 5:17); what we actually have in that case is the combining of an apophthegm with a miracle story. See Bultmann, History, 14–16. 12. Since the miracle story is a means for focusing attention on the healer rather than on the healed person—see especially Bultmann’s remarks, History, 218 ff.—it is not surprising that Jesus is present throughout the whole of every miracle story in the Synoptics. 13. Bultmann, History, 291 f. 14. Verses 3a–5 may also be material added to the original story. They link the miracle to the Johannine portrait of Jesus as the light of the world. Regarding the possible significance of the pronouns in v. 4, see below.

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b. A Dramatic Expansion of the Miracle Story (vv. 8–41) Three of the major characters in verses 8–41 (two are collective) play no part in verses 1–7: the blind man’s neighbors, the Pharisees in council, the blind man’s parents. The main accents are also new: that the healing occurred on a sabbath (an afterthought also in 5:10), Jesus’ proper identity, synagogue discipline, discipleship to Moses versus discipleship to Jesus, faith in the Son of Man. It scarcely needs further to be argued that verses 8–41 present material which someone composed as an addition to the simple healing narrative of verses 1–7. Not so apparent is the structure of this added part15 until one recalls the ancient maxim that no more than two active characters shall normally appear on stage at one time, and that scenes are often divided by adherence to this rule.16 It is then apparent that if we count the original miracle story as the first scene, the whole chapter is in its present form a kind of drama constructed with no small amount of skill: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

Jesus, his disciples, and the blind man The blind man and his neighbors The blind man and the Pharisees The Pharisees17 and the blind man’s parents The Pharisees and the blind man Jesus and the blind man Jesus and the Pharisees

vv. 1–7 8–12 13–17 18–23 24–34 35–38 39–4118

He who reads the chapter aloud with an eye to the shifting scenes and the skillfully handled crescendos cannot fail to perceive the artistic sensitivity of the 15. Dodd, for example, divides chap. 9 into a narrative of healing (vv. 1–12) and a dialogue in the form of a trial scene (vv. 13–34), Interpretation, 354 ff. (italics mine). Similar analyses are made by Barrett, St. John, 292 ff. (miracle and narrative); Bernard, St. John, vol. 2, 323 ff.; Hoskyns, The Fourth Gospel, 350 ff.; and Bauer, Johannes, 128 ff. 16. See, for example, Bultmann, History, 188, where in analyzing the style of the similitude, he remarks that “the law of stage duality is operative, i.e., only two persons speaking or acting come on at a time. . . . If more than two have to speak or act, they have to do it in separate successive scenes.” Cf. also E. Haenchen, Die Apostelgeschichte (19655), 96, n. 1, where the scene technique employed by Luke in Acts 25:13–26:32 is compared with style exemplified in Vergil. For our purposes it will be important to note that even in Luke 13:10–17, which is the closest parallel to John 9 in a number of important respects, there is only one scene. 17. 1n vv. 18 and 22 the term oιJ Ιoυδαι` j oι stands instead of the expected Φαρισαι`oι. The change may be significant (see suggestion below), but it must not be taken as evidence of a literary seam. Note that the term Φαρισαι`oι returns in v. 40. Compare also 1:19, 24. 18. Cf. Bent Noack, Zur johanneischen Tradition (1954), 115, who finds eight scenes by allowing a division after v. 5. After making the above analysis several years ago, I was pleased to find that the chapter was translated in seven scenes by J. M. Thompson, and that Thompson’s lead was followed by Windisch. See the works cited above in note 6.

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dramatist who created this piece out of the little healing story of verses 1–7. Moreover, reading it together with 5:1–18 (the healing of the lame man) and 18:28–19:16a (the trial before Pilate) will surely lead one to conclude that the skilled dramatist is the evangelist himself. For there is virtual unanimity in crediting him with the construction of these other texts that are dominated by such similar scene presentation. It is then the evangelist who has created in John 9 a dramatic unity which captures and holds the reader’s attention, and effectively prepares him for the important discourse of chapter 10. We cannot be satisfied, however, merely to speak of the evangelist’s art. We must ask whether in his composition it is possible to detect specific reflections of some definite situation in the life of his church. To this end we may find it illuminating to formulate our questions as we transpose the narrative into a more developed dramatic form.19 2. Transposition into Dramatic Form In the dramatic rendering of chapter 9 that follows, the reader who compares the drama with the text as it stands in the Gospel will soon perceive certain modifications. With one exception, each of these modifications is relatively minor and, therefore, will either be explained in a footnote or simply allowed to “bear witness to itself.” The exception, the “doubling” of Jesus with an early Christian preacher, may strike some readers as a bold step indeed. Therefore, before we proceed, a word must be said in its defense. In the Farewell Discourses which Jesus makes to his disciples following the Last Supper there is the surprising promise: “Truly, truly, I say to you, he who believes in me will also do the works that I do . . . because I go to the Father.” (14:12)

From this promise it is a short step indeed back to 9:4: “It is necessary for us to work the works of him who sent me while it is day.”20

The work of Jesus appears not to be terminated in the time of his earthly life. On the contrary, his going to the Father inaugurates a time in which his fol19. In order to conserve space and facilitate communication this will be done partly by synopsis. The reader is referred to the full text for comparison. 20. The MS witness is divided on both pronouns (see Bernard, St. John, vol. 11, 325 f.), but the convergence of (a) Bengel’s maxim, proclivi lectioni praestat ardua with (b) the rule to prefer the reading which most easily accounts for the origin of the others tips the balance in favor of the reading presented by B and D. The profound implication purveyed by the Evangelist’s use of the two pronouns ηJµας and µε was sacrificed for easy clarity at an early date. Compare the highly significant change from singular to plural in 3:11. Italics added.

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lowers do his works. Indeed, 9:4a leads us to see this continuation of Jesus’ works as an activity of the Risen Lord in the deeds of Christian witnesses. We must take into account, however, the whole of John 9:4. While the grammatical incongruity introduced by the pronouns in the first half of the verse “us . . . me” points to the continued activity of the Risen Lord in the work of Christian witnesses, the second half of the verse clearly speaks of a time when it will be impossible for anyone to work, and verse 5 continues this motif: “We must work the works of him who sent me, while it is day; night comes, when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

If the Johannine church lives in this night—that is to say, if in an absolute sense Jesus has departed from the world—then we must recognize a sharp contradiction between John 9:4a and 14:12 on the one hand, and John 9:4b–5 on the other. I am confident that the problem thus posed is a real one. In John’s view Jesus does return to the Father. More than once Jesus announces the termination of his sojourn: Jesus then said, “I shall be with you a little longer, and then I go to him who sent me.” (7:33; cf. 12:35; 13:33; 14:19; 16:16)

It is not surprising, therefore, to find interpreters saying such things as: The “night” was coming for him in this sense only, that when his public ministry on earth was ended, the “works” which it exhibited would no longer be possible.21

But while I am confident that the problem posed by Jesus’ departure to the Father is a real one, I am equally confident that the Johannine church would emphatically deny that Jesus is now absent from the world in an absolute sense. John has not the slightest intention of limiting his message to the affirmation that during Jesus’ earthly lifetime he was the Light of the World. Quite the contrary. Jesus makes his presence powerfully known—in what way we must carefully consider at a later point (chap. 7)—in his consistent declaration: “I am.” For the time being, therefore, we must carefully consider the implications of 9:4a: It is necessary for us to work the works of him who sent me.

Immediately surrounding this verse is the original healing story in which Jesus works the works of God (vv. 1–7). But this occurrence is not terminated in Jesus’ earthly lifetime, as the expansion of the simple healing narrative in verses 8–41 makes clear. Or to put it another way, the seam which we have discovered 21. J. H. Bernard, St. John, vol. 2, 326. Cf. R. H. Lightfoot, St. John’s Gospel, ed. C. F. Evans (1956), 202.

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between verses 7 and 8 has literary, historical, and theological importance. In the material which follows verse 7 the evangelist has extended the Einmalig,22 not because he discovered additional information about what the earthly Jesus did on this occasion, but rather because he wishes to show how the Risen Lord continues his earthly ministry in the work of his servant, the Christian preacher. In what follows, therefore, we will have to keep constantly in mind that the text presents its witness on two levels: (1) It is a witness to an einmalig event during Jesus’ earthly lifetime. Though we cannot a priori limit this witness entirely to verses 1–7, it will be safe to assume the original healing story as its major locus. (2) The text is also a witness to Jesus’ powerful presence in actual events experienced by the Johannine church. We may initially assume this to be the case throughout the whole of the chapter, though the degree to which it may be demonstrated will vary. Where the two levels of witness overlie one another (primarily in the first seven verses) one does not hope to distinguish them with absolute clarity. The bulk of the miracle story’s dramatic expansion, however, betrays this second kind of witness, and will therefore demand our most careful attention. 3. The Drama Scene 1: A street in Jerusalem near the Temple (in the Jewish Quarter of John’s city?): verses 1–723 Confronted by a blind beggar near the Temple, Jesus takes the initiative to heal him. However, the work of him who is the Light of the World (8:12, etc.) is not terminated in that deed. Through a faithful witness in the Johannine church, the healing power of Jesus touches a poor Jew, afflicted many years with blindness.24 His sight is restored! 22. Here and subsequently I use this German term for the simple reason that (even with help) I have not been able to think of a suitable English equivalent. By it I mean something like “back there” as opposed to “now and here.” It must be clear that I do not at all mean its use to be related to the neoorthodox “once for all.” I wish only to distinguish two levels in John’s way of presenting certain parts of his Gospel. The reader will not go far wrong if he renders my use of einmalig by the expression “once upon a time.” I should also say that I have in mind something rather different from Cullmann’s thesis regarding Johannine expressions which have double meanings: “Der johanneische Gebrauch doppeldeutiger Ausdrücke als Schlüssel zum Verständnis des vierten Evangeliums,” ThZ 4 (1958), 360–72. Contrast also Cullmann, Salvation in History (1967), 270 ff. Concerning the evangelist’s own stance toward what I have termed the two levels of his presentations, see 89 and 131. 23. The reader is asked to keep the text of John 9 close at hand and to refer to the appropriate section before reading the synopsis or dramatic form of each scene given here. The correspondence indicated by the parentheses should be taken at this point as nothing more than a suggestion. 24. Whether on the contemporary level of the text we are to think of physical as well as spiritual blindness is not clear. Cf. 2 Cor. 3:12–18.

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Scene 2: Near the man’s home (the Jewish Quarter?): verses 8–12 The man’s neighbors and acquaintances, fellow members of the synagogue, are divided in their appraisal of the situation.25 Some are convinced that the beggar has actually received his sight. Others cannot believe that this now-seeing man is the blind man. He must be someone who looks very much like the blind man. (In this way the reality of the miracle is confirmed for the reader.) The neighbors ask the man how he has come to see. He replies that a man called Jesus opened his eyes.26 When they ask where Jesus is, he cannot say.27 At this, the neighbors decide to take the man to their leaders,28 men of mature judgment who can examine the case and arrive at definite conclusions.29 25. The motif of divided opinion among synagogue members is quite important, as further developments will show. 26. One must allow for the fact that the form of the drama—as an occurrence involving Jesus himself—does not suggest as a natural course of events that the blind man should refer, let us say, to the power of Jesus’ name. Nevertheless, his reply is consonant with the remarkable way in which the Johannine community was conscious not merely of Jesus’ power, but also of his very presence. A comparison with Acts 3:6, 16; 4:10, 18, 30, where Jesus’ name is the means of his present power, may reveal important theological distinctions between the Johannine and Lucan churches, not to speak of the primitive Jerusalem community. Cf. James 5:15; Mark 9:38. 27. The neighbors’ question may be quite significant to John. Cf. 7:32–36; 13:33. 28. Cf. below, 112 f. John is well acquainted with persons who recognize the authority of those trained in midrash. Furthermore it may be of historical importance that rabbinic literature preserves several stories which refer to Christians healing Jews in the name of Jesus, and that in each case (as one would expect) halakic authorities intervene. The most famous is given in Tosefta Hullin 2, 22 (and parallel accounts elsewhere): It happened with R. Elazar ben Damah, whom a serpent bit, that Jacob, a man of Kefar Soma, came to heal him in the name of Yeshua ben Pantera; but R. Ishmael did not let him. He said, “You are not permitted, Ben Damah.” He answered, “I will bring you proof that he may heal me.” But he had no opportunity to bring proof, for he died. (Quoted from M. Goldstein, Jesus in the Jewish Tradition [1950], 32 f.)

Here a Jew wanted to be healed, even by a Christian’s pronouncing the name of Jesus. However, a man of superior authority intervened. A similar story is recounted in j Shabbath 14d: The grandson [of R. Jehoshua ben Levi] had something stuck in his throat. Then came a man and whispered to him in the name of Jeshu Pandera, and he recovered. When he [the doctor] came out, he [R. Jehoshua] said to him, “What didst thou whisper to him?” He said to him, “A certain word.” He said, “It had been better for him that he had died rather than this.” And it happened thus to him, as it were an error that proceedeth from the ruler (Ecc. x. 5). (Quoted from Herford, Christianity, 108.)

The persons referred to here are relatively late (third century), but the attitude of R. Jehoshua may be instructive for our purpose. 29. Who are these leaders? On the einmalig level, it may be that John 9:13–34 somehow reflects the author’s knowledge of a Pharisaic Bet Din, as distinguished from the Sanhedrin. However, another solution seems more likely, i.e., that the text can be understood, as I have suggested above, only by recognizing the author’s determination simultaneously to witness on both the einmalig and the contemporary levels. That is to say, the Pharisees in chap. 9 probably reflect the authority of the Bet Din in Jamnia much more than they reflect a historical “Pharisaic Sanhedrin” of Jesus’ day.

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Scene 3: The Sanhedrin of Jerusalem? (A meeting of the Gerousia30 in John’s city?): verses 13–17 The neighbors bring the beggar to the authorities and then fade into the background or leave. A voice from offstage informs the audience that it was a Sabbath on which the man was healed. The Jewish authorities now take up the investigation by asking the man how he received his sight.31 At his abbreviated answer (the reader of the drama has already heard the full answer), there is a division (σχι σµα) v among the leaders, reminiscent of the divided opinion among the neighbors. Some are convinced that the man’s healer cannot be from God because he breaks the Sabbath. Others pose a question in his defense: “How can a man who is a sinner perform signs of this sort?” In this way the question turns from how the healing happened to who is the healer, that is, what is one to say of him? The leaders address this last question to the beggar; his answer provides the climax of scene 3: “He is a prophet.”32 Scene 4: The same courtroom: verses 18–23 Having answered the leaders’ question, the beggar fades into the background, and then vanishes. The Jewish authorities33 summon the man’s parents in order to continue the investigation.34 30. Here and subsequently I use the transliterated Greek term “Gerousia” in order to refer to the ruling body of Jewish elders in John’s city. 31. On the einmalig level the “how” question is more immediately relevant than is the question of the healer’s identity. Making a medicine by crushing or grinding was considered work and therefore prohibited on the Sabbath. That the story moves around two questions (how and who) may be another indication of the two levels of reference presented in the text. 32. Note the progression: Jesus is a prophet (v. 17), he is from God (v. 33), he is Son of Man (vv. 35–37). I should not say this is a progression in the identification of Jesus, but rather a progression from identification to confrontation. See below, 123 and 142–3 f. 33. The investigators are now called by the general term “the Jews.” From this F. Spitta (Das Johannes-Evangelium, 1910) concluded that vv. 18–23 were added by the evangelist to his source. It may be more relevant to ask why the general term appears this late in the drama. According to our analysis in terms of the two-level witness, one might have expected it as early as v. 13. It is not John’s method, however, to separate the two levels neatly, and that has considerable theological significance. 34. Why do the authorities never summon the healer in order to question him? On the einmalig level alone, this question is not easily answered. In the synoptic tradition Jewish authorities always consider Jesus answerable for his actions. Note carefully the implications of Mark 3:2, “And they watched him, to see whether he would heal him on the sabbath, so that they might accuse him [Jesus].” The same motif is present in John 5:16 (5:18 reflects two levels) and 7:23. It is strikingly absent in chap. 9 and in 10:19 ff. One must ask why this is the case. The reverse side of the coin also calls for explanation. In synoptic healing stories, the one healed is never subjected to critical examination.

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“Is this your son who you say was born blind?35 How is it that he now sees?”

The parents answer that he is their son, but they do not know how he has come by his sight. Then, as sometimes happens with frightened witnesses who know something dangerous to themselves, they volunteer a lack of information. They say that they do not know who opened their son’s eyes, adding nervously, “Our son is of age, ask him!” But the authorities had not asked them who healed their son.36 Therefore from offstage a voice informs the audience that the parents did indeed know who had healed their son. And it is frightening to possess this particular knowledge, as they stand before the Jewish court. For they know two things: that the healer is Jesus, whom the Christians confess as Messiah, and that the Jews have already agreed that if any of their number confesses this Jesus to be Messiah, he will be put out of the synagogue.37 This is why they are frightened, the voice repeats, and the audience can readily understand.38 With this tense note, the scene shifts. Scene 5: The same courtroom: verses 24–34 Having made little progress with the parents, the authorities accept their nervous suggestion and recall the beggar for further questioning. When he has come before the court, they continue: “Give the praise to God. We know that this man [Jesus] is a sinner.”

The beggar approaches the matter from a different point of view. 35. The demonstrative pronoun oυ|τoς; may indicate that the beggar is still present. However, he plays no active part in vv. 18–23 and must be summoned a second time in v. 24. 36. The answer goes beyond the question in a manner by means of which John is able to move once again to the center of his concern: the messianic identity of Jesus as it is discussed in John’s own milieu. 37. Cf. the discussion of exclusion from the synagogue given below. A good bit turns, of course, on the authorship of John 9:22. I have already identified the gifted dramatist responsible for verses 8–41 as the evangelist himself. Most interpreters credit him with v. 22 as part of the drama. An exception should be noted: Brown, John, 380, tentatively allots vv. 22–23 to the fifth of the five literary stages through which he believes the Gospel to have passed, i.e., to the final redaction by someone other than the evangelist. In making this tentative suggestion, Brown seems to be moved primarily by the “somewhat intrusive” nature of the verses. I can agree that they are somewhat parenthetical—Brown puts them in parenthesis in his translation—but their close relationship to v. 34 in this drama itself and to 12:42 and 16:2 elsewhere in the Gospel lead me to speak of them as an aside that is integral to the dramatic presentation. 38. Perhaps one may recall the reference to Samuel the Small in Berakoth 28b. See 59. Note that on the einmalig level the messianic question is scarcely to be understood. As the story has developed prior to this point, confession of Jesus as Messiah has not even been mentioned as a possibility. Cf. Bultmann, Johannes, 254, n. 10.

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A Synagogue-Church Drama: Erecting the Wall of Separa“Whether he is a sinner I don’t know; but yesterday I was blind, and today I see!”

Then the authorities resume their original tack, asking the beggar what the healer did to him, how his eyes were opened. The beggar answers: “I’ve already told you, and you did not hearken. Why is it you want to hear the story again? Do you also want to become his disciples?”

At this audacity the authorities revile the beggar in a way which reinforces the sharp dividing line already stated (v. 22). “You are a disciple of that man, but we are disciples of Moses.”

One must choose whether to be a disciple of Moses or of Jesus.39 “We know that God spoke to Moses, but as for this man, we don’t know where he comes from.”40

When the inquisitors admit ignorance regarding Jesus’ origin, the beggar begins seriously to question their omniscience: “Why this is itself a marvel! You are learned men. He opened my eyes, and yet you do not know where he comes from. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if anyone is a worshiper of God and does his will, God listens to him. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of one born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”

Such lengthy instruction from one of the ignorant Am Ha’arets the synagogue authorities cannot tolerate! Has he not made a speech tantamount to the awful confession? Throw him out, as the agreement demands!41 39. In light of John 5:46 f., we may be certain this way of referring to the choice does not represent the evangelist’s own thought. “If you believed Moses (which a disciple of Moses should certainly do), you would believe in me. For he wrote about me.” But if the thought does not come from the evangelist, it must either be a means for heightening the drama—cf. Bultmann’s expression in another connection, “notwendig für die Darstellung” (Johannes, 59, referring to “the Jews”)—or else it accurately reflects the opinion of Jews known to John. Our analysis, it hardly need be said, favors the latter explanation. Cf. below, chap. 6. 40. Cf. the Egerton Papyrus 2, where this statement is part of direct dialogue between the rulers of the people and Jesus: “Turning to the rulers of the people He spoke this saying: ‘Search the Scriptures: those [scriptures] in which you suppose that you have life are the ones which bear witness concerning me. Do not think I have come to accuse you to my Father: your accuser is Moses, on whom you have set your hope.’ And when they said, ‘We know well that God spoke to Moses, but we do not know whence you come,’ Jesus said in reply, ‘Now your unbelief is accused.’” Cf. C. H. Dodd, “A New Gospel,” 12–52, in New Testament Studies (1953). 41. A member of the Am Ha’arets has failed to recognize the halakic authority of the Gerousia in regard to a most sensitive matter. Regarding the motif of casting one out, contrast 9:34 with 6:37.

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Scene 6: A street (near the meeting place of the Gerousia?): verses 35–38 The Christian preacher who was instrumental in the man’s healing hears that the man has been expelled from the fellowship of the synagogue. It is not an uncommon event in the experience of this preacher. He knows that even among the synagogue authorities themselves are some who believe the Christians’ Jesus to be Messiah (12:42). To be sure, many of these are afraid to confess their faith just as this man’s parents were afraid earlier today. All of them know of the dreaded agreement. To the preacher they are people who love the praise of man more than the praise of God (12:43). But he is not insensitive to their peril. Indeed, upon occasion, he must remind members of his own congregation that they will have to suffer persecution from the Jews (15:18 ff.). Some of them have been excluded from the synagogue just as this beggar now is (16:2). Indeed, some have been killed by Jews who thought they were serving God in their horrible action. Now that the Christian herald has heard of the beggar’s expulsion from the synagogue, he takes the initiative (as he had done in the first place—9:6) to find the man. They stand face-to-face in the street. The preacher knows that the man is just at the point of readiness for a genuine Christian confession, and so puts to him the decision of faith. The beggar responds readily with words addressed to his true healer: “Lord, I believe.” Scene 7: The same street: verses 39–41 Through his preacher-disciple, Jesus Christ speaks: “For judgment I came into this world, that those who do not see may see, and that those who see may become blind.”

Some of the authorities, having left the synagogue, are standing nearby. They hear this saying and sarcastically apply it to themselves. “Are we also blind?”

The voice of the Risen Lord continues: “If you were blind, you would have no guilt: but now that you say, ‘We see,’ your guilt remains.”

The drama has reached its initial climax, but a sermon follows immediately: “Truly, truly, I say unto you, he who does not enter the sheepfold by the door but climbs in by another way, that man is a thief and a robber. . . . I am the door of the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and robbers; but the sheep did not heed them. I am the door; if anyone enters by me, he will be saved.”

Chapter 2

HE IS EXCLUDED FROM THE SYNAGOGUE AND ENTERS THE CHURCH “And they cast him out. . . . ‘Lord, I believe.’”

Presented as a formal drama, and allowed to mount its actors, so to speak, on a two-level stage so that each is actually a pair of actors playing two parts simultaneously, John 9 impresses upon us its immediacy in such a way as strongly to suggest that some of its elements reflect actual experiences of the Johannine community. It does not strike one as artificially contrived, nor does it appear to be composed merely in order to dramatize an abstract theological point of view. At least in part, it seems to reflect experiences in the dramatic interaction between the synagogue and the Johannine church. To observe these reflections one needs only to be aware of the two-level stage. However, our imaginative presentation of the drama has left us with a number of unanswered questions. Consider the dramatis personae. Who are the pairs of actors playing identical roles on the two stages? In our dramatic transposition, answers have already been partially suggested, but these must be critically assessed and further developed. Furthermore—and for a student of Christian origins most important—what can we say about the circumstances surrounding the beggar’s exclusion from the synagogue? Who are the “Jews” who have agreed that confession of Jesus as Messiah will bring about such exclusion? What is the exact nature of this awesome agreement? Are echoes of it to be found also in other literature of the time? What circumstances have led to its enactment, and by what means is it enforced? Answers to such questions are essential if we are to arrive at anything like a clear picture of the situation in which John wrote his Gospel. Thus we propose to see whether data elsewhere in the Gospel can offer us additional clues; after that, we will find it helpful to turn our attention to the problem of relating the Johannine picture to information which may be gleaned from other Christian literature and from rabbinic sources as well. 1. Exclusion from the Synagogue According to the Fourth Gospel a. Chapter 9 itself provides us, in this regard, with several essential points of information. Notice again verse 22, which reads in part:

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For the Jews had already agreed that if anyone should confess him to be Messiah, he would become an excommunicate from the synagogue.

Here four elements command our attention: (1) the expression “the Jews,” (2) the verb with its adverbial modifier “had already agreed,” (3) the messianic confession of Jesus, and (4) the predicate nominative “an excommunicate from the synagogue.” The first two elements show us clearly that the subject under discussion is a formal agreement or decision reached by some authoritative Jewish group (cf. the analysis of 12:42 below) at some time prior to John’s writing. Within this group, whoever its members may be, the need for a decision has been felt, and that decision has been made.42 We are not dealing with an ad hoc move on the part of the authorities who happen at the moment to be questioning the beggar and his parents. We are also told that those whom the decision concerns are Jews who confess Jesus as the expected Messiah. They have evidently assumed that such a confession is compatible with continued membership in the synagogue. Now, however, after the agreement, the dual commitment is no longer possible. For we are also informed by the key term αjπoσυναvγωγ oς (aposynagogos: an excommunicate from the synagogue) that the decision has as its purpose the formal separation of the disciples of Jesus from the synagogue. If there is doubt about this point, a moment’s reflection on John 9:28 should suffice. “You are a disciple of that one43 but we are disciples of Moses.”

This statement is scarcely conceivable in Jesus’ lifetime, since it recognizes discipleship to Jesus not only as antithetical, but also as somehow comparable, to discipleship to Moses. It is, on the other hand, easily understood under circumstances in which the synagogue has begun to view the Christian movement as an essential and more or less clearly distinguishable rival.44 The agreement is, then, a formal one, reached by an authoritative body within Judaism, 42. The syntax of John 9:22 may call for some attention. The initial verb could be completed by an infinitive, but where the subject of the complementary verb is a second party, one will not be surprised to find the ι{να substitute. Thus: The Jews had already agreed that (ι{να) a man should become an excommunicate from the synagogue if he should confess Jesus to be Messiah. For the infinitive complement, see Acts 23:20. Cf. Blass, Debrunner, and Funk, Grammar, §392; N. Turner, A Grammar of New Testament Greek (Moulton, vol. 3, Syntax, 1963), 142. 43. The pronoun εjκεινoς ` (that one) is used contemptuously, as Blass, Debrunner, and Funk point out, Grammar, §291, 1. 44. The Christ-versus-Moses motif is struck repeatedly in the Gospel, and constitutes, as we shall see, not only the nuclear expression of the synagogue-church rivalry, but also one of the key problems with which John himself wrestled. See chap. 6 below. For the present it is more important to note that expressions which reflect this feeling on the part of the synagogue are not lacking in rabbinic literature. See Herford, Christianity, 442, and for late but illuminating evidence, K. G. Kuhn, “Giljonim und sifre minim,” in Walter Eltester, ed., Judentum, Urchristentum, Kirche (1960).

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intended to separate the two rivals, and at John’s writing it has already been in effect for some indeterminate time. b. While the adjective αjπoσυναvγωγoς has not yet been found in any document other than the Fourth Gospel, it does occur there twice in addition to the instance in chapter 9. One of these occurrences falls in Jesus’ Farewell Discourses to his disciples. In the latter part of chapter 15, Jesus speaks clearly about the world’s hatred of him and of his followers afterward. Then, without advance notice, the hating world seems to become hostile Judaism, for Jesus says the world’s hatred fulfills the saying written in their law: “They hated me without a cause” (Ps. 35:19). Almost immediately, he continues by assuring his followers: “I have spoken these things to you in order that you may not be shocked. They will cause you to be excommunicated from the synagogue. . . . I did not tell you these things at first, because then I was with you.” (16:1 ff.)

One scarcely needs to argue, especially in light of the last sentence quoted, that these are words of the Risen Lord, spoken to the Johannine community to guard them in the midst of specific problems. And the problem accented here is the one presented by exclusion from the synagogue. Here two specific notes are added to our picture: This text makes it unmistakably clear that some members of the Johannine church have come to it from the synagogue via the formal step of exclusion from that body. Second, we learn that the adjective αjπoσυναvγωγoς may be employed not only with the verb meaning to be or become (γενεvσθαι) as in 9:22, but also with the verb to make (πoιειν). ` The former corresponds to some such expression as “become an excommunicate”; the latter to “make (someone) an excommunicate.” Thus, in 16:2 the word clearly gives a characteristic of persons now members of the Johannine church. They have been made αjπoσυναvγωγoς, and they may thereafter be described by this adjective; they are αjπoσυναvγωγoι (ones excluded from the synagogue). c. The third reference which calls for our attention follows closely on the heels of the awesome quotations from Isaiah regarding those who have not believed the report and whose eyes have been blinded (12:37 ff.). Isaiah said these things, comments the evangelist, because he saw Jesus’ glory; Isaiah spoke of Jesus. It is nevertheless true, John continues, that many of the rulers believed in him, but on account of the Pharisees they made it a practice not to confess him,45 lest they be excluded from the synagogue. (12:42)

In the drama of chapter 9, fear of exclusion from the synagogue was experienced by the beggar’s parents, presumably ordinary members of a local synagogue in John’s city. Now we learn that many of the “rulers” believe in Jesus, 45. The imperfect verb ωJµoλovγoυν may have some such force.

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but consistently avoid a confession because they fear that the “Pharisees” will bring about their exclusion from the synagogue.46 No reference is made to a prior agreement, as such, but the writer clearly presupposes it. The issue is the same, messianic confession of Jesus, and the key expression is identical, αjπoσυναvγωγoς serving as the predicate adjective of the verb γενε σθαι. v This final reference helps us to fill out the picture. At some time prior to John’s writing, an authoritative body within Judaism reached a formal decision regarding messianic faith in Jesus. Henceforth, whoever confesses such faith is to be separated from the synagogue. Many Jews, even rulers, do in fact believe, but they manage somehow to conceal their faith, lest they be excluded from the company of their brethren. Others, like the blind beggar, clearly reveal their commitment and are cast out. Indeed, John’s church has a number of members who have personally experienced the operation of the awesome agreement. They are Jewish excommunicates (αjπoσυναvγωγoι). From John himself, therefore, we gain a fairly coherent picture. The picture may, however, be coherent without being historical. Furthermore, the picture itself defines a number of perplexing problems. Concerning the dramatis personae: John says there are Christian believers even among the rulers. These authoritative persons evidently take no part in Christian services of worship, preferring to maintain their standing in the synagogue fellowship. How, then, does John know of such people at all, and precisely who are they? Furthermore, if we have correctly translated John 12:42, how can these rulers consistently avoid making the decisive confession? They obviously find it possible to attend the synagogue services without exposing their faith that Jesus is Messiah. How is such a course of action possible? Another problem is presented to us when John employs the term “Pharisees” to refer either to those who are responsible for the fearful agreement or to those who enforce it. We have already called these persons an authoritative body within Judaism, but beyond the term “Pharisees,” John does not tell us who they are. Are there clues which will enable us to identify these actors in the drama? Finally, has the key expression “to be put out of the synagogue” (αjπoσυναvγωγoς γενε σ v θαι) a recoverable historical reference apart from John’s Gospel? What circumstances have called for such a drastic step, and how is it executed? In light of these perplexing questions, we may eagerly welcome data from other sources which put us in touch with the same general period. 2. Exclusion from the Synagogue According to Other Sources We are justified to suppose initially that the three Johannine references we have just investigated do in fact reflect some historical event or events. These events 46. Regarding the perplexing problems presented by this verse, see below, 85 f.

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may, therefore, have left their mark on other early Christian documents. Indeed, if the basic component is formal exclusion from the synagogue, we may also reckon with the possibility that the practice will have left echoes not only in Christian documents but also in Jewish traditions which belong to the same general period. In any event, we may interrogate such traditions in quest of further information. a. Because we have been concerned to this point only with the text of John (Greek), and because the contexts in which we found the key term αjπoσυναvγωγoς seemed to support as the basic meaning “excluded from the synagogue,” we have not found it necessary to examine the word itself in detail. Now, however, we will consider not only other Christian documents but also Jewish sources, most of which were originally written in Hebrew or Aramaic, and, as we shall shortly see, the contexts in which the Jewish references lie are often of no help at all. Therefore it is necessary to sketch a minimal definition of the term αjπoσυναvγωγoς. Like many Greek words this one is a compound, made from a preposition, away from (αjπov), and a noun, synagogue (συναγωγηv). It is probably quite analogous to the word αjπovδηµoς which means “away from one’s people,”47 and while the matter is certainly speculative, one would not be greatly surprised if some papyrus should be discovered which shows the term αjπoσυναvγωγoς used to describe a lone Jew residing for a time as the sole Jewish inhabitant of a city which therefore lacked a synagogue. Such a man would be away from the synagogue. The term itself, therefore, does not seem to carry any fearsome denotation, other than the natural concern any Jew might feel at being away from the fellowship of his synagogue. The way in which John uses it however clearly shows, as we have seen, an awesome connotation. Accordingly, lexicographers have not hesitated to give as equivalents: “expelled from the synagogue”48 and “aus der Synagoge ausgeschlossen.”49 b. Beyond this minimal definition one is clearly involved in interpretation. While neither the Greek adjective nor any direct Semitic equivalent has been adduced from Jewish writings,50 its basic reference to expulsion or exclusion from the synagogue has caused most interpreters to link it with some form of the Jewish ban mentioned in rabbinic literature. Bauer’s full definition, for example, reads: “expelled from the synagogue, excommunicated, put under the curse or ban (µrj).” 47. Blass, Debrunner, and Funk, Grammar, §120, 2. 48. Liddell-Scott, A Greek English Lexicon (rev. ed., by Jones and McKenzie, 1940), 221. 49. Walter Bauer, Griechisch-Deutsches Wörterbuch zu den Schriften des Neuen Testaments (19524), 183. 50. See, however, Schlatter’s suggestion from Numbers Sifre in Geschichte Israels (1925).

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Furthermore, if it is, as Moulton and Milligan suggest, “just the sort of word that would have to be coined for use in the Jewish community,”51 one would expect it to bear some relation to known Jewish methods of discipline. Thus when one seeks to identify the term historically, the practice of the ban is the most obvious candidate. 1. The case for identifying “excluded from the synagogue” with the Jewish ban. It is clear from rabbinic sources that there were two kinds of ban, the niddui, the less severe, and the cherem. Following the lead of those expert in the study of Jewish life and thought, many Johannine commentators have seen in John 9:22, 12:42, and 16:2 references to one or the other of these types of Jewish ban.52 Bauer’s entry quoted above casts a vote for linking the passages with the cherem; Adolf Schlatter, on the other hand, argued forcefully for the niddui. Neither identification is likely for the following reasons: a. A recent study has shown that when the rabbinic materials are carefully dated, there is no reference to cherem with the meaning “excommunicate” or “ban” prior to the third century C.E.53 That does not exclude the possibility of linking the Johannine references to this ban; it does make such a link improbable. b. Furthermore, the niddui appears to have been used only in order to protect the purity of legal rulings, and thus—so far as I can see—it was usually employed against scholars who refused to follow the majority ruling of a scholarly court. In any event, the words of Paul Billerbeck seem accurately to represent this aspect of the picture. In none of the material which we have surveyed does one find the synagogue ban used in order to expel repugnant elements from the synagogue. Furthermore, everything we have learned about the ban’s purpose and results speaks against such a use. On the contrary, the ban is designed as an inner-synagogue means of discipline, the purpose of which is to correct a member of the synagogue by bringing him to a state of obedience to Torah and to Torah’s representatives. This shows that the ban is intended to hold a man firmly to the synagogue. It is never employed to expel one from the synagogue.54

51. J. H. Moulton and G. Milligan, The Vocabulary of the Greek Testament Illustrated from the Papyri and Other Non-literary Sources (1914–30), 70. Of course the absence of the term in Jewish sources (it could have been used even in its Greek form in the Talmud!) might suggest that it was coined not by Jews but rather by Christians, perhaps even by someone in the Johannine church. 52. Many commentators refer the reader to Schürer’s discussion in Jewish People, Division II, vol. 11, 60 ff. 53. Hunzinger, Bannpraxis, 65 ff. 54. Billerbeck, Kommentar, vol. 4, 329 f. (italics added).

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If we may recall our minimal definition of the term αjπoσυναvγωγoς above, the case for identifying this term with the Jewish ban as we know it must be considered inadequate at best. For the preposition away from (αjπov) shows clearly that whatever may be taking place, it is not a matter of inner-synagogue discipline.55 2. “Excluded from the synagogue” refers to the kind of disciplinary action taken against Christians according to Acts. In a fascinating article which appeared prior to the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, Erwin Goodenough argued strongly that the Fourth Gospel shows a decidedly primitive character and should be understood as a product “from the very early church, though of course nothing indicates any precise date.”56 Obviously a number of the passages in which “the Jews” play a dominant role, such as those we are now considering, are not friendly to such a thesis, and Goodenough had to take this fact into account. In attacking what he termed the “hidden premise” that John “could not” have been written early, he said: The hidden premise has not always, of course, been hidden. So G. H. C. McGregor, The Gospel of John, 1928, pp. xxix f., says that the disputes with the “Jews,” and such objections as “He makes himself equal to God”; “ Art thou greater than our Father Abraham?”; “Can this man give us his flesh to eat?” come from a “later age.” Of these Jesus’ attitude toward the “Jews” in John is most often taken to indicate that the Gospel is late. . . . The bone of contention, Colwell rightly says, is that the Jews rejected Jesus as the Messiah and as a divine being; but this issue must have been clear by the time of the Pauline persecutions in Jerusalem, and so we need no late date to explain a group who felt themselves on this ground tragically rejected from Jewry. . . . These references to “Jews” might have been written during, or at any time after, the Pauline persecution.57

This is not, to be sure, a direct statement about our term αjπoσυναvγωγoς; it is one of the disappointing features of Goodenough’s article that this highly important word is nowhere considered. Nevertheless the suggestion is close at hand that the kind of disciplinary action taken by Paul against the church provides at least the background of our Johannine references. This is a suggestion which certainly merits serious consideration. If the Johannine term αjπoσυναvγωγoς is not to be linked with the Jewish ban, a means of discipline employed within the synagogue fellowship, perhaps it is somehow 55. A full excommunication was apparently practiced at Qumran. See ThWNT, vol. 7, 848 f. and the passages from 1QS cited there. They scarcely provide a significant parallel to the Johannine expression, however, as the author, W. Schrage, recognizes. 56. E. R. Goodenough, “John A Primitive Gospel,” JBL 64 (1945), 145–82, esp. 145. 57. Ibid., 147, n. 3.

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related to the kind of action taken against Christians pictured in the Acts of the Apostles. We need, therefore, to consider (a) the activity of Paul when he was a persecutor of the church, and (b) disciplinary steps taken against Paul and his companions after he became a Christian missioner. a. Aside from the various historical problems which attend the accounts of Paul’s activity as a persecutor of the church, there is one factor which so effectively separates these accounts from the Johannine references as to leave very little reason for relating the two. All the way from the arrest of Peter and John in chapter 3 to Paul’s appearance (now as a Christian) before the Sanhedrin in chapter 23, Acts paints a picture in which Jewish authorities view the church as essentially subject to Jewish law. That is to say, the church is viewed by the Jewish authorities as a sect, a bothersome one to be sure, but still a sect which remained within the bosom of Judaism. This is nowhere more apparent than in the case of Paul’s activity as a persecutor. According to Acts 9:1–2 and 22:5, Paul received from the high priest in Jerusalem letters addressed to synagogues in Damascus authorizing him to bring to Jerusalem for disciplinary action any belonging to “the Way.” One thinks also of Paul’s own words (Gal. 1:13; cf. Phil. 3:6), according to which he not only persecuted the church, but also tried to destroy it (εjπovv ρθoυν αυjτηvν). The fact remains that the tactics portrayed in Acts 9 do not even hint at excommunication. Indeed just the opposite. Those of the Way are to be disciplined, however severely, apparently in order that they might be brought “into line,” made to conform to the authority of the Jerusalem Sanhedrin. Nothing would seem to be further from Paul’s mind, as Luke portrays him here, than the severing of those of the Way from (αjπo-συναvγωγoς) the household of Judaism. But if Paul’s own activity prior to his conversion furnishes no help, may we not look to the kind of discipline to which he was subjected after he became a Christian? b. It is often reported in Acts that Paul and his companions experienced opposition and even persecution from the Jews.58 On some of these occasions, the 58. 13:45–50 (Jews in Pisidian Antioch incite persecution of Paul and Barnabas and persuade the city authorities to send them on their way: εjξεvβαλoν αjυτoυ;ς αjπo;τω`ν oJρι ων v αυjτω`ν); 14:2–6 (attempted stoning in Iconium); 14:19 (Jews follow Paul from Antioch and Iconium and stone him in Lystra); 17:5 ff. (Jews in Thessalonica set the city in an uproar against Paul and Silas); 17:13 (the same persons follow Paul to Beroea and again incite crowds against him); 18:6–7 (Jews in the Corinthian synagogue oppose and revile [βλασϕηµoυ`ν] Paul; he shakes out his garments and leaves this synagogue permanently, moving his “classroom” next door to the house of Titius Justus; Crispus, the ruler of the synagogue, becomes a Christian together with others; 18:12–17 (the Corinthian Jews accuse Paul before proconsul Gallio, and when the proconsul refuses to take part in the matter of Jewish law, they vent their feelings by beating their own leader, Sosthenes, the ruler of the synagogue); 19:9 (experiencing opposition in the Ephesian synagogue Paul withdraws from the disbelieving Jews and relocates in the hall of Tyrannus); 21:27 ff. (riot and arrest in Jerusalem); 23:30 ff. (hearing before the Sanhedrin, but at the command of the Roman Tribune); 23:12 ff. (a plot to kill Paul); chaps. 24 ff. (further hearing before Roman authorities).

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treatment amounts to the inciting of a riot and can scarcely be linked with the kind of formal agreement we have seen in the Johannine passages. Other instances show a more orderly disciplinary action, and two of these call for brief attention: In Pisidian Antioch the Jews persuade the city authorities “to drive Paul and Barnabas out of their district.” This is surely an expulsion “out of.” But it is out of the district, not out of the synagogue, and the actual disciplinarians are the secular authorities of Antioch, not “Pharisees.” Jews from Antioch and Iconium follow Paul to Lystra and stone him there. This is certainly serious discipline. It is, however, a regularly appointed means of punishment. There is no hint of excommunication. The second of these instances calls to one’s mind Paul’s own words in 2 Corinthians 11:24, in which he clearly states that on more than one occasion he submitted to synagogue discipline. Five times I have received from the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one. Three times I have been beaten with rods; once I was stoned . . . in danger from my own people.

“In other words,” comments Vielhauer, “as a Christian he acknowledged the synagogue’s jurisdiction over himself.”59 With this Acts agrees. In the course of events, presented by Acts, as we have previously remarked, the Jewish authorities consider the Christian sect and its leaders to be subject to Jewish law.60 Furthermore, when Paul is subjected to an examination by the Sanhedrin (23:6 ff.), he identifies himself not as a Christian excommunicate, but rather as a Pharisee! 3. Behind Luke’s portrait of the parting of ways in Acts 18 and 19 stands an event which was, in reality, excommunication from the synagogue. In the course of recounting Paul’s activity in Corinth and in Ephesus, the author of Acts tells of Paul’s withdrawing from synagogues in both cities, and in telling the story the author employs three very interesting expressions: Having encountered opposition and even reviling in the Corinthian synagogue, Paul moved his teaching activity next door to a private house. The expression may be somewhat literally rendered, “And [1] moving away from there [the synagogue], he went to the house of a man named Titius Justus . . . next door to the synagogue” (Acts 18:7). After similar developments in the Ephesian synagogue, it is reported that “Paul [2] withdrew from them and [3] separated the disciples” (Acts 19:9). The 59. Ph. Vielhauer, “On the ‘Paulinism’ of Acts” (L. E. Keck and J. L. Martyn, eds. Studies in Luke-Acts [1966]), 33–50, esp. 38. 60. Cf. L. Goppelt, Christentum und Judentum (1954), 87.

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first two expressions are probably synonymous and seem to speak of ad hoc moves on Paul’s part. The first of them is explicitly part of the Lucan refrain, “You have rejected the message; therefore we turn to the Gentiles.” For this reason especially, one may ask whether the responsibility for a portrait in which Paul acts wholly on his own volition may not rest with Luke rather than with history. Perhaps Paul was in fact, to put it politely, invited to leave the synagogue. And if we note that the burden of his teaching prior to the rupture is stated to be that the Messiah is Jesus (18:5), the suggestion lies close at hand that, leaving aside the Christian retouching, we have here a picture showing the αjπoσυναvγωγoς agreement in action. Paul teaches that Jesus is Messiah. The agreement calls for excommunication in such cases. He is expelled. Either he himself, or a later Christian editor, puts it in a different light: he withdrew of his own volition. The third expression may be treated in a similar way. In Ephesus, Paul not only withdrew but also separated the Christian disciples from the synagogue. The verb rendered “separated” is the same word used in Luke’s form of one of the beatitudes. “Blessed are you when men hate you, and when they exclude you and revile you, and cast out your name as evil, on account of the Son of Man.” (Luke 6:22)

In the beatitude the Christians are passive recipients of an action which excludes them. May it not be the case that in Acts 19:9 Luke has given the initiative to Paul, when in fact it was the synagogue authorities who drew the line of separation? In other words, is it not conceivable that “move away from” the synagogue, “withdraw from” the Jews (of the synagogue), and “separate the disciples” are Christian expressions for what was really the Jewish action described in the expression “put (someone) out of the synagogue”? This is surely a weighty suggestion, but it runs aground on two major objections. First, had Luke received a tradition according to which Paul had been put out of the Corinthian and Ephesian synagogues, he would probably have reported events in just that way. One of his concerns is to show that the Gentile mission resulted from God’s express will and from the persistent rejection by the Jews. Nothing would have dramatized the latter more effectively than accounts of synagogue excommunication. Thus, one follows a very unlikely course if he changes the texts to show that the initiative for separation actually lay with the Jewish authorities rather than with Paul. Second, the separation does not at all appear to have been the formal separation of two rivals. When Paul comes to Ephesus, even after the events in Corinth, he begins his work anew in the synagogue (18:19; 19:8). Later, when he lands in Palestine, he finds that the Christian Jews there have heard of his laxity regarding the Law; they have not been told either that he has been excommunicated or

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that he has permanently separated his followers from the synagogue (21:20 ff.). Nor are these possibilities even hinted at in any of the proceedings which constitute Paul’s arrest and various trials and hearings. It is not impossible that there is some kind of connection between the references in Acts 18–19 and the Johannine expression.61 It is by no means clear, however, that the two refer to the same course of events, and we must therefore continue our quest for historical identification. 4. The formal separation between church and synagogue has been accomplished in John’s milieu by means closely related to the Jewish Benediction Against Heretics.62 If we recall the four key points in John 9:22—(1) a formal decision, (2) made by Jewish authorities, (3) to bring against Christian Jews, (4) the drastic measure of excommunication from the synagogue—it is clear that the historical identifications suggested thus far prove to be disappointing because each fails to correspond to one or more of these points. A priori one may believe that at some time in the first or second century Jewish authorities in one or more locales reached an agreement to apply the ban to Christian Jews as an inner-synagogue means of discipline.63 Since the ban as we know it in this period is, however, an inner-synagogue means of discipline, this hypothesis scarcely satisfies the third point: excommunication from the synagogue. Or again, to the reader of Paul’s epistles and of Acts, it is conceivable that the apostle’s activity evoked a hostility leading to his excommunication. He certainly founded churches in the diaspora which were completely separated from the neighboring synagogues. This does not appear to have happened, however, by excommunication, but rather by Paul’s own decision. And even in the course of these events, Paul understood himself to be subject to synagogue discipline, therefore scarcely as an excommunicate. Furthermore, one hears no hint in Acts of a formal agreement lying back of the synagogue’s hostility to Paul. On the contrary, such events as are narrated in Acts appear to be ad hoc measures taken in one city after another. As we begin our fourth test case, we will do well, therefore, to pay close attention once again to each of the four elements of John 9:22. We are looking 61. It may be, for example, that particularly in Acts 18:5–8 we are given a series of events of the kind which led to the agreement spoken of in John 9:22. 62. Cf. K. L. Carroll, “The Fourth Gospel and the Exclusion of Christians from the Synagogue,” BJRL 40 (1957), 19–32; E. Grässer, “Die Antijüdische Polemik im Johannesevangelium,” NTS 11 (1964–65), 74–90; R. Kysar, Fourth Evangelist, 150–56, and the literature cited there. Also G. Forkman, The Limits of the Religious Community: Expulsion from the Religious Community within the Qumran Sect, within Rabbinic Judaism, and within Primitive Christianity (1972). 63. This move may, in fact, be reflected in Luke 6:22, as Hunzinger suggests, Bannpraxis, 74.

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for a turn of events which may properly be termed a formal agreement or decision. Those responsible for the decision are Jewish authorities; John refers to them as “the Jews,” and may refer to them also as “the Pharisees” (12:42). They view followers of Jesus and orthodox adherents of the synagogue as rivals, and the intention of their decision is to bring about complete separation of the two. Henceforth, one who makes the messianic confession of Jesus is to be excommunicated. a. We begin with the verbal thought “to agree, to reach a corporate decision” (συντι θηµι). v If we are to consider Jewish sources, we must ask how Hebrewand Aramaic-speaking Jews would have expressed this thought. There are, one must admit, several possibilities known to us. Delitzsch rendered it with the verb ≈[æy,: which in ancient Hebrew meant to consult together or exchange counsel (Niphal).64 The use of this verb appears to be rather limited, however, in postbiblical times, and in any event its meaning has shifted somewhat by the Tannaitic period, so that it is not a very happy choice.65 A more likely candidate is the verb ˜qæT; (Aramaic ˜qeT)] , which means “to introduce a custom,” or “to ordain.” The Hebrew and Aramaic forms of this verb are often attested in the early Christian period and are used in a way which corresponds fairly closely to the verbal thought of John 9:22. For example: At the close of every Benediction in the Temple they used to say, “For everlasting”; but after the heretics [Sadducees?] had taught corruptly and said that there is but one world, they ordained that they should say, “From everlasting to everlasting.” (Mishna Berakoth 9, 5)

Here an authoritative body (not specified) reacts to the threat of a heretical teaching by issuing a rule, by publishing a new decision. And the structure of the sentence is similar to that of the sentence in John 9:22: “They ordained that . . .”; “The Jews decided that. . . .”66 This use of the verb ˜qeT] is rather common and corresponds to the use of the noun hn:Q;T.æ For example: This is one of the nine enactments (twOnQ;T)æ of Rabbi Johanan ben Zakkai. (Rosh Hashanah 31b)

Indeed the term is itself a key to one of the most important developments in Judaism after the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Temple in 70 C.E. In this period, introduced by a tragedy of earth-shaking proportions, the major threat to Judaism was that of disintegration. It is often remarked that the Judaism of Jesus’ day was an ellipse, the two foci of which were the Temple 64. Brown, Driver, and Briggs, Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (1952), 419 f.; cf. Jastrow, Dictionary, 585. 65. The same may be said for the Aramaic equivalent f[æy.] See Jastrow, Dictionary, 584. 66. The Hebrew reads: Wnyqit]hiw.]

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and the Law. After 70 C.E., the saying continues, the ellipse became a circle whose center was the Law. There is some value to this statement, but it has the distinct liability of obscuring the extreme trauma and deep uncertainty that attended this transition. Prior to this “shaking of the foundations,” Judaism was of a most varied nature. There were groups ranging from the left end to the right end of the political spectrum. There were wild-eyed zealots plotting imminent revolt against the Romans. There were others set on collaboration. And what we would call various positions on the religious spectrum were thoroughly intertwined with these political opinions. For most of these groups the Temple cult, with all its imperfections, was a decisive, cohesive force. Now that was gone, and there arose the danger that centrifugal forces would shatter the loosely knit phenomenon of Judaism, leaving the pieces widely scattered indeed. b. In these uncertain years which followed the fall of the Holy City, the major stabilizing force appears to have been provided by the rabbinic academy which assembled at Jamnia under Johanan ben Zakkai and by the series of enactments or Takkanoth which were issued from this relatively stable center of learning and authority.67 It is just possible, therefore, that our search for a turn of events properly termed a formal decision and for an authoritative body in Judaism responsible for this decision should in fact lead us to the little town of Jamnia in the period after the destruction of the Temple. Is there, among the Takkanoth published by the Jamnia authorities, one that may reasonably be linked with the measure taken against Christian Jews and spoken of in the three Johannine references? c. A famous passage in the Babylonian Talmud requires quotation here. In the service of worship ideally followed in every Pharisaic synagogue, a centrally important element was the formal prayer spoken by a member of the congregation who was appointed for that task on a given day. The wording of this prayer—called the Eighteen Benedictions—was not wholly fixed until long after the New Testament period, but it was an understandable concern of the Jamnia authorities to standardize it to some degree. This concern provides at least part of the background of the following passage: Our Rabbis taught: Simeon the cotton dealer arranged the eighteen benedictions in order in the presence of Rabban Gamaliel in Jamnia. (Berakoth 28b)

Rabban Gamaliel was the head of the Jamnia Academy from about 80 C.E. to about 115 C.E. Under his leadership the authority of the group of scholars 67. The Takkanoth are listed most conveniently on 155 ff. of J. Neusner, A Life of Rabban Yohanan Ben Zakkai (1962). We can be sure that the rabbinical picture of the Jamnia Academy is idealized to some degree, but I think that the idealization does not materially affect the data on which the following arguments are based. See notably Goldin, “The Period of the Talmud,” 146–52, and cf. the following two notes.

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assembled in Jamnia grew considerably, so that it came to view itself as indeed the successor to the old Sanhedrin of Jerusalem. Here we see the academy concerned to arrive at a fixed order for the Jewish prayer. Presumably it was equally concerned to publish this order via an official enactment (Takkanah) ideally binding on the order of worship in all synagogues. That was, in any event, standard procedure for the Jamnia Academy, and while some resented such high claims for authority, the claims seem to have been recognized fairly widely.68 So much for the order of the Benedictions. On a subsequent occasion, Rabban Gamaliel said to the Sages: “Is there one among you who can word a benediction relating to the Minim [heretics]?” Samuel the Small arose and composed it. (Berakoth 28b)

Some circumstance has now caused Rabban Gamaliel to request a reformulation of one of the Benedictions, that against the Minim or heretics (the Birkath ha-Minim). A certain Samuel is said to have responded, though on a subsequent occasion he himself experienced difficulty with his own formulation: The next year he [Samuel] forgot it and tried for two or three hours to recall it, and they did not remove him [from his post as Delegate of the Congregation]. Why did they not remove him, seeing that Rab Judah has said in the name of Rab: If a reader made a mistake in any of the other benedictions, they do not remove him, but if in the benediction of the Minim, he is removed, because we suspect him of being a Min?—Samuel the Lesser is different, because he composed it. But is there not a fear that he may have recanted? Abaye said: We have a tradition that a good man does not become bad. (Berakoth 28b–29a)

Needless to say, a host of fascinating questions arise when one ponders this passage. We must restrict ourselves for the moment to four which bear directly on our present task. 1. Is there evidence that the reformulated Benediction was, in fact, published by the Jamnia Academy as a Takkanah which it intended for use in synagogues far and wide? 2. Was its reformulation directly related to the nascent Christian church? 68. Jamnia was hardly the sole locus of rabbinical activity and authority. Moreover the period under scrutiny was one during which there were surely synagogues of quite different types in various locales. In general, however, the rabbinical data would seem reliably to indicate a remarkable growth of Jamnian authority precisely under Gamaliel II. See J. Neusner, A Life of Rabban Yohanan Ben Zakkai (1962), 125; H. Mantel, Studies in the History of the Sanhedrin (1961), 34–35. See also the patristic data mentioned below in notes 71 and 81, notably Justin’s statement that the Jewish authorities had dispatched messengers “to every land” to report the outbreak of the Christian heresy (Dialogue 17).

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3. What goal did Gamaliel II have in mind when he called for the rewording? 4. And how, precisely, was it envisaged that the reformulated Benediction would accomplish this goal?69 If the data do not call for affirmative answers to the first two questions and for answers related to excommunication of Christian Jews for the last two, we will need either to continue our quest or to admit that no historical identification of John 9:22, etc., seems to be possible. The first question may be easily enough answered. Such an important measure would naturally have constituted an official enactment by the Jamnia Academy. To make decisions regarding the synagogue liturgy was one of the major prerogatives claimed by Jamnia.70 Furthermore the rewording of part of The Prayer (Amidah = Eighteen Benedictions) would have had no purpose were it 69. These four questions are formulated on the assumption that the pertinent scenes portrayed in Berakoth 28 do in fact put us in touch with discrete events which transpired—more or less as pictured—during the period of Gamaliel’s ascendency in Jamnia. Wayne A. Meeks has kindly explained to me that the major grounds for his hesitation to link our Johannine texts to Berakoth 28 (“Man from Heaven,” 55, n. 40) lie in his suspicion that these scenes portray as punctiliar events in Gamaliel’s time what was actually a linear development stretching over a lengthy period and culminating in the pertinent formulation of the Birkath ha-Minim, perhaps quite a bit later than Gamaliel (private letter of July 19, 1977). I am inclined to take Meeks’s skepticism seriously. There can be no doubt that a number of rabbinical texts present something like the sort of punctiliar “historicization” he believes may be present in this instance. However, for three reasons I have decided to remain with the case for the probability of a relationship between John 9:22, etc., and Berakoth 28: 1. The formal nature of the language in John 9:22 would seem to point to a development that John perceives as a formal agreement on the part of an authoritative Jewish body. See 46 f. above. Of course that body could be the local Bet Din in John’s city, but there is also 2. the remarkable degree of correspondence between the two elements mentioned in John 16:2 (1. excommunication and 2. execution) and the two measures referred to by Justin in Dialogue 16, 95, and 110 (1. curse = cast out and 2. kill). This correspondence would seem to indicate the probability that a Takkanah useful toward excommunication by means of cursing was issued rather widely prior to Justin’s time, and that would seem to be what Berakoth 28 is about. 3. There is, moreover, the matter of the case for linking the second element in John 16:2 (execution) to rabbinical tradition about the nature of the charges that led to Jesus’ death: see chap. 3 below. If one be convinced by the arguments given there, it follows that in reflecting upon the execution of Jewish Christians in his community John has used a frame of reference (the beguiler) which is absent from the remainder of the New Testament but mirrored quite accurately in rabbinical tradition. That does not tell us, of course, that his references to excommunication are definitely to be linked to a discrete event in Gamaliel’s time, but it supports such an interpretation. In sum, then, we are dealing with questions which can be resolved only with some degree of probability. Taking into account all of the pertinent data seems to me to indicate as probable that the Birkath ha-Minim was issued under Gamaliel II and that it is in some way reflected in John 9:22, etc. 70. See, e.g., Goldin, “The Period of the Talmud,” 150.

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not published for use far and wide.71 We are not surprised, therefore, to read in the Talmud: The benediction relating to the Minim was instituted in Jamnia. (Berakoth 28b)

The verb is ˜qt; the wording of the Benediction Against Heretics was a Takkanah, published by the Jamnia Academy. The date, while not a matter to be fixed with complete certainty, is scarcely a subject for rank speculation. The outer limits are given by the inception and the final termination of Gamaliel’s official ascendency in Jamnia, events which we can set at about 80 C.E. (the probable date of Johanan’s death72) and about 115 C.E. (the date usually given for Gamaliel’s own death, there being no indication that he lived to see the shattering event of the revolt under Trajan, ca. 116 C.E.). Added precision would be possible if one could be confident that Samuel the Small (that is, probably the humble) was extremely old when Gamaliel assumed office and was therefore unlikely to have lived past 90 C.E. The pertinent data on Samuel are subject to this interpretation,73 even if they do not demand it. Hence most scholars date the rewording of the Benediction Against Heretics at about 85 C.E.74 After consulting several colleagues particularly expert in such matters, I should be prepared to allow for a date between 85 C.E. and 115 C.E., with an inclination toward the earlier part of that period.75 71. Weighty support for the thesis that the rewording of The Prayer was a Jamnian Takkanah which was widely published with remarkable effects is given by patristic data. See Justin, Dialogue 16, 17, 85, and 110; Eusebius, H.E. iv, 18, 7. For our present quest Justin’s references are quite impressive, as three of them (Dialogue 16, 95, 110) seem to correspond quite closely to John 16:2. See notes 69 above and 78 and 81 below. 72. J. Neusner, A Life of Rabban Yohanan Ben Zakkai (1962), 1972; Neusner, Development of a Legend, 221–24. 73. Herford, Christianity, 128–35, argues that Samuel is likely to have died “very near the year A.D. 80,” and while Herford’s line of argument is punctuated with several suppositions, it is not lightly to be laid aside. 74. Typical is the presentation in W. D. Davies, The Setting of the Sermon on the Mount (1964), 275 f. See further bibliographical references there, and the discussion in C. K. Barrett, The Gospel of John and Judaism (1975), 47 f.: “Anything that occurred in the period of Gamaliel occurred in the period of the Fourth Gospel.” 75. We will do well to distinguish two questions from one another: The probable date of the Benediction Against Heretics, and the degree of probability that may be enjoyed by the hypothesis of a relationship between the Benediction and John 9:22, etc. As regards the first, I have already mentioned the caution of W. A. Meeks (note 69 above). I have found instructive also the comments kindly offered by Morton Smith (private letter of July 11, 1977). Unlike Meeks, Smith interprets Berakoth 28 to reflect liturgical changes which actually took place under Gamaliel II, but he thinks it unlikely that Gamaliel would have attempted such reforms prior to the firm establishment of his power, a development which Smith places in the early second century. As in the case of the argument advanced by Meeks, I am inclined to take Smith’s caveats very seriously. Regarding the question of the broad dating of the Benediction, I am now prepared to entertain the whole of the period

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Second, in order to consider who the heretics are and what goal Gamaliel may have had in mind with respect to them, we will need to have before us at least a close approximation to the wording of the Benediction as Samuel uttered it. For this we are, fortunately, not dependent on the modern Jewish Prayer Book, which in some of its parts reflects the hideous censorship imposed upon the Jews in the Middle Ages by Christian authorities. A very early form of the whole prayer was discovered in 1896, and its Twelfth Benediction may be rendered as follows: 1. 2. 3. 4.

For the apostates let there be no hope And let the arrogant government be speedily uprooted in our days. Let the Nazarenes [Christians] and the Minim [heretics] be destroyed in a moment 5. And let them be blotted out of the Book of Life and not be inscribed together with the righteous.

between 80 C.E. and 115 C.E. But in spite of Smith’s argument, I am not inclined to prefer the latter part of that period. As far as I can see, the rabbinical portrait of Gamaliel II is not that of a man who consistently exercised political modesty, waiting to see which way the wind would blow. On the contrary, during his first period as patriarch he seems in fact to have been something of an autocrat, so high-handed and so uncompromising as to have precipitated a revolt among the members of his academy and his own removal from office. Only after he subsequently demonstrated true colleagueship did they reinstate him. Moreover he may have begun to exercise considerable authority even before Yohanan’s death. Cf. Neusner, A Life of Rabban Yohanan Ben Zakkai, 167. With respect to the question whether there is a probable relationship between the Benediction and John 9:22, etc., Smith reasons as follows: The Benediction is to be dated in the latter part of Gamaliel’s partriarchate (early second century), and that is too late for the Fourth Gospel. There remains, however, the possibility of an indirect connection: Gamaliel is likely to have instituted the Birkath ha-Minim after similar moves had been taken against Christian Jews in numerous communities, and perhaps the Jewish community known to the Fourth Evangelist was one of these. Hence the Birkath ha-Minim is “usable as an indication of the sort of thing John had in mind, but no more, and certainly not as a fixed point for dating.” With regard to the case for a connection of some sort between the Birkath and John 9:22, etc., Smith and I do not seem to be very far apart. I remain convinced of its probability primarily for the three reasons stated above in note 69. Cf. also E. Lerle, “Liturgische Reformen des Synagogengottesdienstes als Antwort auf die judenchristliche Mission des ersten Jahrhunderts,” Nov. Test. 10 (1968), 31–42. It would require an excursus to respond in detail to the fascinating arguments by which J. A. T. Robinson seeks to rebut those advanced in the first edition of the present work: Redating the New Testament (1976). As is fairly widely known, Robinson propounds the thesis that the Fourth Gospel—and indeed all of the writings in the New Testament—were written prior to 70 C.E. In the present note I can say only that Robinson’s arguments seem to me to be designed to make water run uphill.

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6. Blessed art thou, O Lord, who humblest the proud!76 The first three lines (with line number 6) probably antedate the work of Samuel the Small. The “apostates” spoken of there were probably Jews who abandoned their faith in favor of the marvels of Hellenistic culture, which swept the Orient in the wake of Alexander’s armies.77 So also the words “arrogant government,” while appropriate as a Jewish expression for Rome, are frequently encountered in the books of Maccabees as a means of referring to the Seleucid power personified in Antiochus IV “Epiphanes.” The basic sentiments of these first three lines are precisely those of the famous 17th chapter of the Pharisaic Psalms of Solomon, written in the first century B.C.E. Thus, the task of Samuel the Small, at Gamaliel’s direction, seems to have been to make an old benediction (lines 1–3, 6) relevant to the contemporary situation by specifying the new sources of danger (lines 4–5): Christian Jews and other heretics.78 Henceforth, in the very center of Jewish worship, The Prayer, there is included a petition that God may cause Christian Jews (among others) to be destroyed and excluded from the Book of Life. The formulation is an official and authoritative decision, and it is directly related to the Christian movement. Third, toward what goal, however, is it directed, and, fourth, how is it intended to function? Excommunication from the synagogue is not specified in the Benediction, but the words “let them be blotted out of the Book of Life” can scarcely have been spoken as an inner-synagogue means of discipline. Whoever utters this prayer asks for Jewish heretics a destiny wholly unthinkable for any member of the people of Israel. The Benediction is intended, therefore, to weld the whole of Judaism into a monolithic structure by culling out those elements which do not conform to the Pharisaic image of orthodoxy.79 How they are to be separated is not said either in the Benediction or in the Talmudic passages in which it is mentioned. We are not left, however, wholly 76. A host of authors concern themselves with this text. A number of them are cited by J. Jocz, The Jewish People, 51 ff. The Hebrew text and a most helpful discussion are given by K. G. Kuhn in Achtzehngebet, 18 ff. I have followed Kuhn’s lineation and find his discussion on the whole convincing. 77. Kuhn, Achtzehngebet. See, e.g., 1 Macc. 1:11–15. 78. That Christians are included among those who are cursed in the Benediction is placed almost beyond question by the term “Notzrim” (Nazarenes) and by the fact that several Church Fathers refer to a Jewish practice of cursing the Christians “while they read the prayers.” The patristic texts are given conveniently in H. L. Strack, Jesus, die Häretiker und die Christen (1910), 66; see also Jocz, The Jewish People, 336, n. 257, who, however, does not accept the word “Notzrim” as part of the original text, and compare with the article by Lerle cited above in note 75. 79. Cf. Kuhn, Achtzehngebet, 20. Gamaliel’s determination to subject to himself the distinguished scholars of his court soon led him into a bitter struggle with liberal elements in his own academy and to the temporary loss of his office. See, e.g., Goldin, “The Period of the Talmud,” 150 f.

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to our imagination. We need only to place ourselves for a moment in the ancient synagogue service.80 There we find ourselves face-to-face with three persons whose roles were probably central to the working out of the Benediction Against Heretics: The president of the synagogue (Rosh ha-Keneset = αjρχισυναvγωγoς), the overseer (Chazzan = υJπηρε τvης), and the delegate of the congregation (Sheliach Zibbur). The last of these is not an official of the synagogue, but rather any adult male selected by the president and then actually invited by the overseer to lead the congregation in the recitation of the Eighteen Benedictions. A number of rabbinic passages enable us to surmise that for detecting heretics the Twelfth Benediction was employed in the following manner: a. A member of the synagogue does something to arouse suspicion regarding his orthodoxy (cf. John 3:2; 7:52a). b. The president instructs the overseer to appoint this man to be the delegate of the congregation, that is, to lead in the praying of the Eighteen Benedictions. c. Unless the man has a means of avoiding the appointment, he must go before the Ark (Torah Nitch) and recite aloud all of the Eighteen Benedictions, pausing after each to await the congregation’s Amen. All listen carefully to his recitation of Benediction number twelve. d. If he falters on number twelve, the Benediction Against Heretics, he is removed from his praying (cf. Berakoth 28b–29a cited above). He is then, presumably, “drummed out” of the synagogue fellowship.81 80. Cf. I. Elbogen, Der jüdische Gottesdienst (19242); P. Levertoff, “Synagogue Worship in the First Century,” K. W. Lowther Clarke, ed., Liturgy and Worship (1932); C. W. Dugmore, The Influence of the Synagogue on the Divine Office (1944); S. Krauss, Synagogale Altertüner (1922), invaluable; P. Billerbeck, “Ein Synagogengottesdienst in Jesu Tagen,” ZNW 55 (1964), 143–61. 81. Douglas R. A. Hare has argued against relating John 9:22, etc., to the Benediction on the grounds that the Benediction does not speak of putting one out of the synagogue: The Theme of Jewish Persecution of Christians in the Gospel According to Matthew (1967), 54 f. I am impressed by Hare’s argument, but I do not find it convincing. I suppose, as my expression “drummed out” suggests, that just as a delegate of the congregation who stumbled on Benediction number 12 would be removed from his post, so perhaps after careful questioning of the sort portrayed in John 9, he would be excluded from the synagogue. Note that Justin appears to use interchangeably the expressions “curse (καταραvoµαι) in your synagogues all those who believe in Christ” (Dialogue 16) and “cast out (εjκβαvλλω) every Christian from his own property” (Dialogue 110). When we recall that the synagogue fellowship was a kind of corporation, holding property in common, the suggestion is close at hand that Justin used these two expressions interchangeably because he knew that the test Benediction was employed in a manner which culminated in exclusion from the synagogue.

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In the Fourth Gospel we find references corresponding directly only to (a): John 3:2; 7:52a, and so on; perhaps to the first part of (c): John 12:42, that is, a synagogue ruler may have been able, at least for a period, to avoid appointment as delegate;82 and to the second part of (d): John 9:34. Taken as a whole, however, and placed in light of the argument already advanced, the identification appears to be highly probable. Thus John 9:22 would seem to be a case of ellipsis. Fully expressed it would read approximately as follows: The parents feared the Jewish authorities, for the latter had already enacted a means whereby followers of Jesus could be detected among synagogue worshipers. From Jamnia had come the official wording of the Shemoneh Esre including the reworded Benediction Against Heretics. Henceforth anyone arousing suspicion could be put to a public test (as in steps a–d above).

3. Putting the Pieces Together The three Johannine passages refer to the Benediction Against Heretics, therefore, as follows: a. John 9:22, η[δη συνετε θειντo v (they had already agreed), refers to the action taken under Gamaliel II to reword the Birkath ha-Minim so as to make it an effective means for detecting Christian heresy. Thus “the Jews” in 9:22 would seem to be John’s way of referring to the Jamnia Academy. Consider the remarkable correspondence between the following two passages: John 9:22: The Jews had already agreed that. . . . j Berakoth 8a: The Wise Men of Jamnia have before now appointed the Benediction Against Heretics.

I am not at all suggesting that these two references are interdependent. Each is, however, a natural way of speaking about what may actually have been the same turn of events. b. John 12:42, oιJΦαρισαι`oι (the Pharisees), refers either to the messengers (Sheluchim) who delivered the newly formulated Benediction to the Jewish community in John’s city, or to members of the local Gerousia who enforce this formulation, much to the discomfort of believing “rulers.”83 The latter escape detection, perhaps by seeing to it that others are appointed to lead in prayer. 82. There are several passages in rabbinic literature which seem to tell us that persons desired, from time to time, to avoid appointment as delegate of the congregation: Berakoth 5, 3, “If a man went before the Ark [as delegate] and fell into error, another must take his place: none may decline at such a time. Where does he begin? At the beginning of the Benediction in which the other fell into error.” Cf. Megillah 4, 8 (note the context). See also S. Krauss, Synagogale Alt., 129, 136 f. and the passages cited there. Those who declined appointment as delegate did so, no doubt, for various reasons, as the passages show. 83. Cf. Justin, Dialogue 17 and 108.

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c. John 16:2a merely tells us, as has already been indicated, that certain members of the Johannine church have been detected as Christian heretics (steps a–d above) and have been excommunicated from the synagogue. Thus the Fourth Gospel affords us a picture of a Jewish community at a point not far removed from the end of the first century. As we get a glimpse of it, this community has been shaken by the introduction of a newly formulated means for detecting those Jews who want to hold a dual allegiance to Moses and to Jesus as Messiah. Even against the will of some of the synagogue leaders, the Heretic Benediction is now employed in order formally and irretrievably to separate such Jews from the synagogue. In the two-level drama of John 9, the man born blind plays not only the part of a Jew in Jerusalem healed by Jesus of Nazareth, but also the part of Jews known to John who have become members of the separated church because of their messianic faith and because of the awesome Benediction.

Part II After the Wall Is Erected: The Drama Continues

Chapter 3

THE JEWISH-CHRISTIAN BEGUILER MUST BE IDENTIFIED “He is leading the people astray.”

1. Introduction We are now able to reconstruct with probability a series of stages in the relationship John’s church has known with the neighboring Jewish community.84 a. While there is not a great deal of specific information about the very earliest days, it is reasonable to assume that Christian missioners came to the city and preached in the synagogue, saying, “We have found the Messiah” (1:41, 45, 49). Before very long a document in which a number of Jesus’ miracles were narrated as messianic signs may have been composed for use in this early stage of evangelism.85 We will return to this possibility at a later point. In any case, people believed and came therefore to form a messianic group within the synagogue. It is important to note that this group did not consider itself to be an entity socially distinct from the synagogue fellowship.86 Presumably there were 84. Cf. now Martyn, “Glimpses into the History of the Johannine Community,” 145–67 in this volume. See further G. Richter, “Präsentische und futurische Eschatologie im 4. Evangelium,” 117–52, in P. Fiedler and D. Zeller (eds.), Gegenwart und kommendes Reich (1975), summarized by A. J. Mattill Jr., “Johannine Communities Behind the Fourth Gospel: Georg Richter’s Analysis,” Theological Studies 38 (1977), 295–315; R. E. Brown, “Johannine Ecclesiology—The Community’s Origins,” Interpretation 31 (1977), 379–93; “‘Other Sheep Not of This Fold’: The Johannine Perspective on Christian Diversity in the Late First Century,” JBL 97 (1978), 5–22. The picture that has been unfolding in these articles is now consolidated and enriched in Brown, The Community of the Beloved Disciple (1979). See also R. A. Culpepper, The Johannine School (1975); D. M. Smith Jr., “Johannine Christianity,” NTS 21 (1974–75), 222–48; R. Schnackenburg, “Die johanneische Gemeinde und ihre Geisterfahrung,” R. Schnackenburg, J. Ernst, and J. Wanke (eds.), Die Kirche des Anfangs (1977), 277–306; F. Vouga, Le cadre historique et l’intention theologique de Jean (1977). 85. The most significant attempt to recover this hypothetical document is that of R. T. Fortna, The Gospel of Signs: A Reconstruction of the Narrative Source Underlying the Fourth Gospel (1970). See also the comments of M. E. Boismard on what he terms “Document C,” L’Evangile de Jean (1977). 86. It is a remarkable fact that, even in the completed Gospel as we have it, the Gentile mission seems to play no part in the Fourth Gospel as an issue. Jewish opposition to John’s church is never presented as the result of the church’s inclusion of non-Jews. Nor is the Torah as the way of salvation the kind of issue it was in Paul’s experience.

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some separate meetings for celebrating the Eucharist and also for special teaching. Yet John 6 may show us that at one stage the Eucharist was made a subject of debate both in the regular synagogue meetings (vv. 25–59) and in the separate gatherings of messianic believers (vv. 60–71).87 1f so, that may be in part a reflection of this early stage in which the Jewish believers did not wholly abandon the regular synagogue worship.88 While they must have known that their actions were beginning to be of some concern to the Jewish authorities, they obviously assumed that a dual allegiance to the regular synagogue fellowship and to their special group was possible. Thus, when they continued to mission among their fellows, they did not think of their work as that of drawing persons away from the religion of their fathers or from the synagogue itself. They were Jews, children of Abraham, and yet also disciples of Jesus the Messiah. b. At some point the authorities came to view the messianic believers with added concern. Indeed they felt themselves compelled to conclude that belief in Jesus as Messiah was in reality apostasy. Perhaps official messengers came from Jamnia with the reworded Benediction Against Heretics and with instructions about its intended use. Perhaps, conversely, reports sent to Jamnia by the very authorities in John’s city played a role in Gamaliel’s decision to have the Heretic Benediction brought up-to-date as a means of detecting Christians and others. In any event, the local Jewish authorities came at some point to view the growing numbers of “believing” Jews as a stream of apostates which had to be stopped. A dam had to be built; steps had to be taken to make it unmistakably clear that synagogue and church were formally separate and that any Jew who made the messianic confession would have to pay the price of absolute severance from the synagogue. The Benediction Against Heretics was employed for detecting such Jews, and they were promptly excommunicated. What had been an inner-synagogue group of Christian Jews now became—against its will—a separated community of Jewish Christians. c. The threat of excommunication must have narrowed the stream of converts. The blind man’s parents, for example, if we may assume them to have felt the attraction of their son’s embryonic faith, choose to remain safely in the bosom of the synagogue. Synagogue elders believe, but now that an open confession of their faith will bring their excommunication, they remain at least socially on the old side of the separating wall. Even the threat of excommunication, however, does not halt the stream altogether. Some are willing to pay the price of severance and do so. The question then arises whether the Jewish 87. See note 219 below. 88. John 6:51 ff. may also indicate that some Jewish believers (12:42) did not want to take the Eucharist. The attitudes of Christian Jews and of Jewish Christians toward the sacraments is a subject about which we know very little. But see J. Betz, “Der Abendsmahlskelch im Judenchristentum,” 109–32, in Abhandlungen über Theologie und Kirche (Festschrift K. Adam, 1952), and G. Strecker, Das Judenchristentum in den Pseudoklementinen (1958), 196–212.

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authorities will view this remaining trickle (Is it only a trickle? Notice John 12:11, 19) as insignificant, or whether they will devise still more stringent means for halting the traffic altogether. Perhaps they will need to take measures not only against those now within the synagogue who are tempted to embrace the messianic faith, but also against those already excommunicated who insist on evangelizing among the Jewish populace. d. The initial task with which we are concerned at this juncture is that of following the drama into what we may call its “fourth act.” The authorities could not, in fact, view the matter as closed. Even in the face of excommunication, synagogue members continued to make the forbidden confession. Therefore, a step beyond excommunication was called for, and in light of John 16:2 we have no alternative but to conclude that this step was the imposition of the death penalty on at least some of the Jews who espoused the messianic faith. “They will put you out of the synagogues; indeed the hour is coming when whoever kills you will think he is offering service to God.”89

This conclusion itself, however, brings with it a number of thorny problems. How did the Jewish authorities bring about the death of Jewish “believers”? On what grounds was such a move possible? After this move, did all synagogue members attracted to faith in Jesus have to fear execution as well as excommunication, or was this second step taken only against Jewish Christians (already excommunicated) who continued the Christian mission among Jews? It would be impossible to answer these questions if our only clue consisted of 16:2b. On the other hand, 16:2a, as we have already seen, refers to an experience which so impressed John that he allowed it to be clearly reflected in dramatic form elsewhere in the Gospel (chap. 9). Should the same be true of 16:2b, we might indeed hope to find answers to our questions. But where shall we locate in John’s Gospel a drama in which someone comes to believe in Jesus and is subsequently arrested, tried, and executed for his faith? A moment’s reflection will suffice to show that such a formulation of the problem is far too inflexible. As the final question above implies, the further step of execution may have been taken not against converts like the blind beggar, but rather against Jewish Christian preachers. And if that be true, we may look for a drama in which on the einmalig level murderous steps are taken against Jesus himself.90 89. Cf. Justin, Dialogue 16, 95, 110, 133. As mentioned earlier, these references seem to reflect the same two steps mentioned in John 16:2, and except in the final reference Justin places the two steps in the same order: (1) curse, and (2) put to death. Dialogue 95, for example, reads in part: “If you curse Him and those who believe in Him, and, whenever it is in your power, put them to death. . . .” 90. Cf. Sanhedrin 107b: Jesus is excommunicated. Herford, Christianity, 50 ff.

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Such considerations might lead us to focus our attention on the passion story. However, if one will read the whole Gospel through at a single sitting, he will be reminded that threats on Jesus’ life begin long before the passion story. The earliest occurrence of the term accented in 16:2b (αjπoκτειvνειν: to kill) is in 5:18 (“This was why the Jews sought all the more to kill him. . . .”). And this verse clearly reveals a two-level frame of reference, as we shall see momentarily. Indeed, a rereading of chapters 5 and 7 impresses one with the possibility that in those chapters John has presented dramatic pieces which are no less powerful and no less transparent to elements of his own setting than is the integrated drama of chapter 9. Therefore, just as we turned from 16:2a to chapter 9, we may now proceed from 16:2b to elements in chapters 5 and 7. 2. Pertinent Dramatic Elements in John 5 and 7 The literary structure of John 5–7, even apart from the famous disjunctures presented by John 6, is far more varied and complex than is that evidenced by the tightly and simply composed scenes in John 9. Interpreters are not even agreed as to whether John 5 begins a new section of the Gospel.91 But there are clear indications in the text itself that numerous elements in John 7 continue events and motifs of John 5,92 and for our purposes it is the literary nature of these elements that demands attention. a. John 5:1–18 This text consists of a miracle story which John has expanded by means fundamentally analogous to those employed in John 9. The evangelist is himself responsible for verse 1. The traditional miracle story is clearly located in Jerusalem; Jesus has just been in Galilee (4:46); he must be brought to Jerusalem. Verses 2–9b present the healing miracle which is certainly old tradition, retaining accurate topographical references not elsewhere found in the New Testament,93 and showing the three elements so often encountered in healing stories: 91. Brown, John, 201 ff., represents the widely held view that John 5 (introduced by 4:46–54) begins a section which reaches through John 10. For a contrary analysis, see the article by Talbert cited in our next note. 92. See C. H. Talbert, “Artistry and Theology: An Analysis of the Architecture of John 1:19– 5:47,” CBQ 32 (1970), 341–66. While Talbert has not convinced me that John 1:19–5:47 is a single literary unit structured according to chiasmus—the resulting analysis of John 5 seems extraordinarily unlikely—he has given me pause as regards my suggestion (in the first edition) of a distinct literary cycle stretching from 5:1 to 7:52. Hence I now delete that suggestion. What is essential for our historical quest is the two-level nature of the drama in John 5:1–18 and of pertinent dramatic elements in John 7. 93. See the fascinating study of J. Jeremias, Die Wiederentdeckung von Bethesda (1949). A summary in English is given by Barrett, St. John, 209 ff. Jeremias’s conclusions appear to be followed in the translation given by NEB.

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1. The sickness is serious (v. 5). 2. Jesus heals the man (v. 8). 3. By carrying his pallet the man demonstrates the reality of his cure (v. 9 a–b).

But now, in a way quite similar to that followed in the case of the blind man, John gives to the third of these elements a double role. In the original miracle story, the man’s carrying of his pallet was indeed proof that he had been healed, and it still serves this purpose as the story is used by John. In addition, however, it provides a means whereby the story may be given a dramatic expansion. By commenting that the day was a Sabbath (v. 9c), John sets the stage for the drama. Now the man’s carrying of his pallet constitutes not only proof of his cure but also a violation of the law excluding work on the Sabbath, and the reader is prepared for a drama of conflict. The drama has a sequence of scenes, not so clearly or exhaustively presented as those of John 9, but otherwise quite comparable: Scene 1: In the House of the Flowing (Bethesda)94 north of the Temple (vv. 2–9b). Characters: Jesus and the crippled man. Scene 2: In the neighborhood of Bethesda (vv. 9c–13). Characters: The crippled man and the Jews. Scene 3: In the Temple (v. 14). Characters:  Jesus and the crippled man. Scene 4: Near the Temple (v. 15). Characters:  The crippled man and the Jews. (This scene is presented via editorial comment rather than direct discourse.) One is tempted to find in verses 16–18 a fifth scene in which the actors are Jesus and the Jews.95 However, if we are to think of a fifth scene at all, we should probably allot to it verses 16–47, and we should then call it a sermon preached by Jesus to the Jews. Does John present this drama on the two levels with which we are now familiar? We may note first that verse 16 is related to the drama on the einmalig level (just as Mark 3:6 is related to the story given in Mark 3:1–5). This was why the Jews persecuted Jesus, because he did this on the Sabbath.

Jesus is a Jew. As such he is subject to Jewish law. Since he has broken the Sabbath, he must be disciplined. The verb “persecute” (διωvκω) goes, to be 94. Brown, John, 206 f., referring to evidence from the Qumran copper scroll. 95. So Bent Noack, Tradition, 114 f.; Bultmann, John, counts vv. 15–18 as one scene; Lindars, John, 52, calls vv. 9b–18 “a transitional dialogue.”

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sure, beyond mere discipline. It looks toward the passion story, much as does the verb “destroy” (αjπovλλυµι) in Mark 3:6. Nevertheless, verse 16 is wholly understandable in the einmalig, Palestinian frame of Jesus’ life. But now the evangelist has Jesus defend his breach of Sabbath law not by reminding his hearers that they water their cattle on the Sabbath—a typical rabbinic manner of argument found precisely at this point in synoptic tradition (see particularly Luke 13:15)—but by uttering words which clearly imply a quasi-divine claim on his own part. “My Father has never yet ceased his work, and I am working too.” (v. 17)

And in the editorial comment that follows, the two levels of the drama are clearly and distinctly indicated. For this reason the Jews sought all the more to kill him, because he not only broke the sabbath, but also called God his Father, making himself equal with God. (v. 18)

There are reasons for seeking to kill Jesus during his earthly lifetime, and there are reasons for seeking to kill him now, in John’s own day! To that we shall shortly return. For the moment, it is clear that the drama is presented on two levels, and we are therefore invited to sketch the essential elements of the contemporary level. A member of John’s church serves to make real in the life of a fellow Jew the healing power of Jesus. At that, the Jewish authorities step in and question the healed man.96 Then, as in 9:35, the Jewish Christian finds the man and talks with him. To this point, the drama corresponds very closely to that of John 9. There follow, however, two major developments which have no counterparts there. 1. When the Jewish Christian finds the healed man (v. 14), he does not lead him to a full Christian confession (contrast 9:35 f.), but rather gives him a solemn warning: “See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse befall you.” The warning represents good Jewish teaching. Why, then, does John place it here? The Christian senses the man’s instability—that is, that he might become an informer against his healer—and warns him not to fall into that sin lest something worse than sickness come to him. It is therefore clear that the lame man of John 5 plays a role quite different from the one played by the blind man of John 9. The blind man represents for John the Jew whose experience of healing inclines him fundamentally toward faith in Jesus. In the course of his being examined by the Gerousia, he defends 96. It may be well to remind ourselves that this scene, just as the parallel scenes in John 9, has no counterpart in the synoptic tradition. In John’s milieu Jews who have dealings with Christians are always interrogated. Cf. Herford, Christianity, 103 ff.

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his healer, and the Gerousia responds by excommunicating him. The lame man, on the other hand, represents the Jew who, though presumably thankful to be healed, nevertheless remains wholly loyal to the synagogue. When members of the Gerousia ask him to identify his healer (5:12) and thus to participate, albeit passively, in whatever hostile steps they may take against the healer, he complies with their request.97 2. The Gerousia now begins a series of attempts to apprehend the Christian, and that is the second point at which the major line of chapter 5 diverges from that of chapter 9 (leaving aside, for the moment, developments in chapter 10). Once the lame man has demonstrated his loyalty to the synagogue by informing the Gerousia of his healer’s identity, he drops out of sight. He is no longer necessary to the drama, for now the Gerousia turns all its attention to the healer.98 These two points of divergence, taken in the context of extensive correspondence, tell us that the impulse which led John to construct the drama of 5:1–18 is similar to and yet also different from the impulse to which he responded in constructing that of 9:1–41. In John 5, the evangelist intends from the outset to focus his reader’s attention not on measures taken against the healed man, but rather on hostile steps taken against the Jewish Christian himself. If we ask why the Gerousia wants to apprehend the Christian healer, we now hear two answers. One we have already deduced from 16:2. The threat of excommunication has not wholly stopped Christian conversions among synagogue members; the authorities conclude that in order to halt such conversions they must take steps against the separated Jewish Christians themselves. But should they be directly asked why they take these steps, they would answer, of course, in theological terms, and that is precisely what they do: “We persecute Jewish Christians because they worship Jesus as a second god!” (5:18b). That answer may seem to clarify the picture, but in fact it only points to further problems. On what legal grounds can the Gerousia say that one who worships Jesus as a second god is to be killed?99 Can the charge of worshiping Jesus really serve as the basis for arrest, trial, and execution? Or do the authori97. Neither the blind man nor his parents really cooperate with the Gerousia in chap. 9; when the parents feel their safety imperiled, they remain silent. The cripple, when he feels threatened (5:10), protects himself by informing against Jesus. Cf. John 11:57. 98. ln this regard the drama of John 5 is more like synoptic healing stories than is that of John 9; i.e., the healed one drops from sight, and attention is turned to the healer. It is obviously important, however, to note the point at which the healed man fades from view. In the synoptic form, that happens immediately after he is healed; in John 5, it does not happen until he has informed against the healer. The similarity with synoptic healing stories is, therefore, superficial. 99. This problem is particularly pressing in light of the fact that the Gerousia has already separated the Johannine community from the synagogue. I said above that the picture presented in Acts is that of a Jewish sect which remained under the authority of the Jewish hierarchy and that this picture does not readily correspond to the Johannine αjπoσυναvγωγoς γενε vσθαι. Now I am on the verge of being compelled to conclude that in John’s milieu Jewish leaders do in fact exercise some

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ties follow some route other than that of legal argument? These are questions which the text does not as yet answer; we must, however, keep them firmly in mind as we proceed. b. John 7 In Jerusalem Jesus has healed a cripple on the Sabbath and has defended that deed by stating his uniquely close relationship to God. Both the deed and the statement (expanded into a sermon, 5:19–47) cause the Jews to seek to kill him. He therefore retires to Galilee (6:1; 7:1)100 where, interestingly enough, he seems to be able to work and preach in safety (the feeding of the multitude; the walking on the sea; the discourse on the Bread of Life; reactions to the discourse which are varied but all nonthreatening). At 7:1 ff. Jesus is said to be reluctant to return to Jerusalem, and the reason given for his reluctance is quoted precisely from 5:18—“the Jews” are seeking to kill him. Then, at the close of kind of authority even over those who have been excommunicated. I can only suggest that this authority exercised over excommunicates was of a very peculiar sort, carried out in light of what the Jewish leaders in John’s city must have viewed as extremely provocative activity on the part of Jewish-Christian evangelists. This line of thought obviously presupposes that within their own section of the city the Jewish leaders had considerable de facto power. Perhaps their de jure authority in the city as a whole is reflected in John 18:31, “The Jews said to him [Pilate], ‘It is not lawful for us to put any man to death.’” 100. The famous problems posed by the order of events presented in John 5–6–7 as they presently stand are handled in several ways. See the commentaries. I accept the order as we have it. On the subject of “theological geography” in the Fourth Gospel, see R. T. Fortna, “Theological Use of Locale in the Fourth Gospel,” ATR Supp. Series 3 (1974), 95–112; and K. Matsunaga, “The Galileans in the Fourth Gospel,” Annual of the Japanese Biblical Institute 2 (1976), 139–58. There are a few hints in the Gospel that would seem to indicate the presence in John’s city of a distinct Jewish quarter. If so, one would think immediately of Rome, Antioch, and Alexandria. Concerning Rome see H. J. Leon, The Jews of Ancient Rome (1960), 135 ff.; Philo spoke of “the great section (αjπoτoµηv) of Rome on the other side of the Tiber [which] is occupied and inhabited by Jews,” Legat. 155. Concerning Alexandria see H. I. Bell, Juden und Griechen im römischen Alexandreia, BAO 9 (1926), 10 ff.; Bell, “Alexandria,” JEA 13 (1927), 171–84; by Philo’s time the delta quarter did not suffice for the Jewish population, but the Jews in Alexandria were to a considerable extent judged by their own magistrates according to their own law: W. W. Tarn, Hellenistic Civilization (19523, rev. G. T. Griffith), 221. Concerning Antioch see C. H. Kraeling, “The Jewish Community in Antioch,” JBL 51 (1932), 130–60, especially 141 ff.; G. Downey, A History of Antioch in Syria (1961), 80, 447 ff., and Plate 11; B. M. Metzger, “Antioch-on-the-Orontes,” 313–30, in E. F. Campbell Jr. and D. N. Freedman, eds., The Biblical Archaeologist Reader, 2 (1964), especially 323 f. In the case of Alexandria, at least, the Jews chose to have their own quarter; the same was probably true in a number of other cities, though I should not at all exclude the possibility that the Fourth Gospel was written in Alexandria itself. See, for example, J. N. Sanders, The Fourth Gospel in the Early Church (1943), but contrast the same author’s article on John’s Gospel in IDB. To Sanders’s arguments in favor of Alexandrian provenance as they are stated on 165 f. of W. F. Howard, The Fourth Gospel in Recent Criticism and Interpretation (1955, rev. C. K. Barrett) should be added the existence of a Samaritan community in the city. See Schürer, Jewish People, index. 101. There is a passage in Hegesippus (quoted by Eusebius, H.E. ii, 23, 4 ff.) in which the verb

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the initial paragraph (7:1–13) John tells his reader (1) that Jesus does in fact go up to Jerusalem, but in secret; (2) that “the Jews” are still seeking him; and (3) that among the crowd there are two opinions of Jesus, although for fear of “the Jews” (!) no one wishes to talk openly about him. Clearly many problems of an obviously theological sort attend these verses, and it is certainly not my intention to suggest that the verses are wholly dictated by contemporary events known to the Johannine church. One point, however, obviously introduces the reader to subsequent developments in the drama of John 7, and it would seem to do so in a way that reflects the contemporary drama that is our present concern: While some said, “He is a good man,” others said, “No, he is leading the people astray.” (7:12; cf. 10:19)

We have already noted that 7:1 verbally repeats 5:18. For that reason we might expect to hear once again a discussion of the christological scandal of 5:18, that is, that Jesus seems to be violating monotheism by making himself equal to God. Instead, the climax of the opening paragraph is created by the emergence of a division of opinion among the crowd which would not seem immediately to relate to Christology as such. We must therefore ask why John would introduce the notion of a “leading astray.” The question is especially pressing in light of the recurrence of this notion later in John 7. Doubly concerned by the tendency of many to believe in Jesus, the authorities dispatch their police to arrest him (vv. 31 f.). When the police fail to execute their orders, they are upbraided in sharp terms: “Are you led astray also?” (7:47). On the face of it the authorities are here speaking of their police as possibly being people who are led astray. But the authorities are also saying something quite decisive about Jesus, something which amounts to the second option posed in 7:12: Jesus is a person who leads people astray.101 That statement might be made informally, or it might be an official accusation pointing to a process of law. In light of the pressing questions outlined above (75–76), it will be important for us to discover, if possible, which is the case. And if it should turn out to look like an official accusation, we will need to learn at least two further things: where John got the picture of the legal process involved, and the precise law according to which the process is carried out. πλαναvω appears, at first glance, to be used just as it is in John 7 (cf. also ii, 23, 10 with John 12:42!). A basic distinction is, however, more important. In Hegesippus’s passage the verb is always passive, but with the middle meaning “to stray,” “to err.” In John, on the other hand, it is either active (7:12—Jesus leads persons astray) or passive with passive meaning (7:47—the police may have been led astray). This distinction is of fundamental importance, as I shall show in a moment. For in John the accent lies not on the people’s “straying,” but rather on a technical charge laid against Jesus: he leads people astray. 102. For an argument which supports the passive reading see Barrett, St. John, 274. The ques-

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Is it an informal expression of opinion or an official accusation? Supporting the former assumption is the fact that in 7:12 we are merely given two conflicting opinions held by factions in the Jerusalem crowd: “some said . . . ; others said. . . .” On the other hand, an atmosphere of legal proceedings is certainly provided when the Sanhedrin dispatches the police to arrest Jesus, and sits in council ready to subject him to a trial (note κριvνειν in v. 51). Thus, the part of the crowd which expresses the negative reaction to Jesus may include persons of authority. Note 7:43, 44. A part of the crowd wants to arrest Jesus! Moreover, note carefully the whole of the Pharisees’ statement to the unsuccessful police: Are you led astray also? (µη; και; υJµει`ς πεπλαvνησθε;)102 Have any of the authorities or of the Pharisees believed in him? And do not tell us that the crowd (o[χλoς) has believed and that such a development argues in his behalf! For such people are ignorant of the law and are accursed [Am Ha’arets]. (7:47 ff.)

It is now clear that the authorities are proceeding on the basis of Torah. The reason for the common people’s being led astray is that they are ignorant of Torah. Had they an accurate knowledge of the law, they would not be taken in by this man. And that must mean that his actions are considered by the Sanhedrin to be against the law. He is apparently subject to arrest on the legal charge that “he is leading the people astray,” that is, he is leading them into the worship of a god alongside of God. Where did John get the picture of this legal process? Is he following a piece of Christian tradition? Or did he, for reasons of his own, construct it out of his own head? Has it, like the term αjπoσυναvγωγoς, a recoverable historical reference which we must consider to be an element in John’s own setting? To answer these questions, we may proceed much as we did in the case of the term αjπoσυναvγωγoς, that is, by reducing them to a single question: Are there other sources which tell us of a legal process according to which one who leads ­people astray (to worship a god alongside of God) is subject to arrest, trial, and execution? With respect to the New Testament that question is quickly enough answered. The Synoptic Gospels do not know of it as a legal procedure employed against Jesus or anyone else. They show only one dramatically developed attempt to arrest Jesus, the successful one, and the grounds on which the Sanhedrin proceeded in that instance were those of blasphemy and rebellion.103 There is, to be sure, a highly interesting little story preserved in Matthew 27:62–66 in which the Sanhedrin or its representatives (the chief tion may expect a negative answer; what is important, however, is that it has to be asked at all. It is a “cautious and tentative suggestion” (Barrett, 268). 103. In Mark 11:18; 12:12, and 14:1, the verb εjzηvτoυν is imperfect, and may refer not to

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priests and the Pharisees) assemble before Pilate on the day following the crucifixion, in order to request that the tomb be made secure against a possible theft of the body.104 In their request they refer to Jesus as “that deceiver” (εjκειν` oς oJ πλαvνoς), adding that should his disciples steal the body and claim a ­resurrection, the “final deception” (ηJ εjσχαvτη πλαvνη) would be worse than the first. This is plainly a late piece of tradition in which elements of Jewish-Christian debate are reflected. And it may be important that it is the Sanhedrin which identifies Jesus as “that deceiver.” Still, the story takes place after the crucifixion and refers primarily to the resurrection. The identification of Jesus as a deceiver does not at all appear to be a legal accusation, and, since it is made after his death, it certainly does not provide a basis on which the Sanhedrin contemplates taking action against him. It can scarcely provide direct illumination, therefore, for the legal process portrayed in John 7. Nor do we fare materially better when we widen our search to include other New Testament documents. Paul may have been called a deceiver (πλαvνoς; 2 Cor. 6:8; cf. 1 Thess. 2:3), but there is little to indicate that a legal process was involved. A bit more promising is a reference in Justin’s Dialogue with Trypho:105 The fountain of living water [cf. John 7:38; 4:10] which gushed forth from God upon a land devoid of the knowledge of God, the land of the Gentiles, that fountain is Christ, who appeared in the midst of your people [cf. John 1:11] and healed those who from birth were blind, deaf, and lame [cf. John 9 and 5]. He cured them by his word, causing them to walk, to hear and to see. By restoring the dead to life, he compelled the men of that day to recognize him [cf. John 12:11, 17–19].  Yet though they saw these miraculous deeds, they attributed them to magical art [cf. John 8:48]. Indeed they dared to call him a magician (µαvγoς) and a deceiver of the people (λαοπλαvνoς). But he performed these deeds to convince his future followers, that if anyone . . . should be faithful to his teaching, he would raise him up at his second coming . . . [cf. John 5:25]. (Dialogue 69)

Several observations are necessary regarding this passage. (1) In composing attempted arrests (RSV is misleading in its rendering of 12:12), but to plans leading to the one, successful arrest (see NEB). Luke 20:19 (ε ζj ηvτησαν) does indeed refer to an attempted arrest. There is, however, no synoptic parallel to John’s dramatic portrayal of an attempted arrest. On the grounds for Jesus’ arrest, trial, and crucifixion, see M. Goguel, The Life of Jesus (1933), 480 ff.; Paul Winter, On the Trial of Jesus (1961), 49 f.; E. Lohse, History of the Suffering and Death of Jesus Christ (1967). 104. On the combination “chief priests and Pharisees” (Matt. 27:62) see below, 85 f. 105. There are actually two references to Jesus as a “deceiver” in the Dialogue, but one of them (chap. 108) is obviously drawn from the Matthean story we have just considered and adds nothing important to it. 106. On the question of Justin’s possible acquaintance with John’s Gospel see, e.g., R. Schnack-

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it, Justin may have depended on the Fourth Gospel. Not all of the motifs for which I have provided Johannine parallels are peculiar to John; Justin certainly drew on several sources for these two paragraphs. I am only suggesting that among these sources may have been the Fourth Gospel; and, if that should be the case, we must exercise extreme caution in suggesting that Justin offers independent historical data which illumine John 7.106 (2) The statement that Jesus’ contemporaries dared to call him a deceiver of the people (λαoπλαvνoς) may depend on Matthew 27:63 (πλαvνoς). We may recall Justin’s obvious acquaintance with the Matthean passage in Dialogue 108. (3) However, there is one further note struck in Dialogue 69, which may very well prove to be a valuable clue. According to Justin, the Jews charge Jesus with being not only a deceiver of the people (λαοπλαvνoς), but also a magician (µαvγoς). If Justin drew the former from Matthew 27 (and/or John 7:12), what is the source of the latter? One may point to New Testament passages in which Jesus is said to cast out demons by the power of the prince of demons. But a far more likely source for Justin’s word “magician” is precisely Jewish tradition of his own period. Indeed, it can scarcely be mere chance that in constructing a dialogue with a Jewish opponent, Justin here employs the two terms which reflect a considerable part of the basic attitude toward Jesus in rabbinic tradition. For the saying: “He performed magic and misled Israel” (Sanhedrin 107b) “contains in nuce the attitude of the tannaitic epoch (i, ii centuries) toward Jesus.”107 Therefore, while Justin (like Matthew) does not show us a legal process connected with the word “beguiler” (πλαvνoς), he does point us to Jewish tradition in which that term (its Hebrew equivalent, of course) is used to describe Jesus. What remains to be seen is (1) whether the rabbis used the term not only to describe Jesus, but also to designate a legal charge against him; and (2) whether that charge (leading astray) has specifically to do with the worship of a god alongside of God. Should both questions find an affirmative answer, we may be nearing a historical identification of the process shown in John 7. One may have read many times the most famous “Jesus reference” in all of rabbinic literature. When one does so, however, with the present questions uppermost in mind, the pieces of the puzzle begin to fall into place. For in it we find not only that Jesus is said to have led Israel astray; we find also that this verb (together with two others) constitutes the legal charge laid against him by the Sanhedrin and therefore the grounds on which he is said to have been tried and executed. Moreover, the verb refers specifically to the act of enticing ­others into the worship of foreign gods!108 The passage is a commentary on enburg, John, vol. 1, 178. Apology 61:4 f. may be dependent on John 3:3 f. But see also A. J. Bellinzoni, The Sayings of Jesus in the Writings of Justin Martyr (1967), 134 ff. 107. W. Bacher in the classic review of Herford’s Christianity, JQR 17 (1905), 180. 108. I refer to the verb jdæn,: which in the passage in question shares its direct object with tsæy.: The

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the Mishnaic teaching that prior to the stoning of one found guilty of a capital offense, a last attempt is made to locate defense witnesses. It was taught:109 On the eve of the Passover they hanged Yeshu. And an announcer went out in front of him, for forty days (saying): “He is going to be stoned, because he practiced magic (πvæk; ≅ µαvγω/ τεvχνη/ πραvττειν τι) and enticed (tsæy); and led Israel astray (jdæn: ≅ πλαναvω). Anyone who knows anything in his favor, let him come and plead in his behalf.” But not having found anything in his favor, they hanged him on the eve of the Passover. (Sanhedrin 43a)110

This passage fairly bristles with problems with which we cannot now be concerned. Two comments are, however, necessary. (1) The first and last sentences are distinct from the remainder. As I have said above, the Mishnaic tradition being commented on has to do with stoning, and so also does the middle part of our passage. But the rabbis responsible for this tradition knew quite well that Jesus was not stoned, but rather hanged or crucified. Thus, they speak on the einmalig level only in the first and last sentences.111 (2) Then why do they connect stoning with Jesus at all? The answer must be related to the charges which are made in the body of the passage. It must either be the case that the rabbis who formulated this tradition made a conceptual connection between Jesus and a leading astray, and so on, or that knowing of Christians who were tried on this charge (that is, Mesith; Maddiach), they simply projected the procedure back to Jesus himself. If the second possibility should prove to be preferable, we should view Sanhedrin 43a as a composite reference to (a) the trial and s­ toning of Christians charged with “leading astray,” and (b) the trial and crucifixion of two verbs are virtually indistinguishable in Mishna Sanhedrin 7, 10, which is the classic passage defining the offense; and the offense is explicitly that of the man who says, “I will worship [another god]. . . . Let us go and worship it.” See also the second half of note 110 below. 109. A formula identifying what follows as old tradition, a Baraitha. 110. The passage continues by giving the opinion of a rabbi of the late third century: “Ulla replied: Do you suppose he was one for whom a defense could be made? Was he not a deceiver (tysime ≅ πλαvνoς) concerning whom scripture says, ‘Neither shalt thou spare, neither shalt thou conceal him’ (Deut. 13:9).” See also the Christian interpolation in Testament of Levi 16:3, and Acts of Thomas 48. The basic rabbinic teaching is Mishnah Sanhedrin 7, 10–11, where the three nouns are tysiMehæ (he who beguiles), jæ yDiMæhæ (he who leads astray), and πVenæM]hæ (he who practices magic). The first two are taken from Deut. 13, where they were clearly separate; in the Mishnah they have to some degree coalesced, and taken together they are the approximate equivalent of oJ πλαvνoς. [I say “to some degree,” because there was rabbinic discussion about the distinctions between the two: see D. Hoffmann, Mischnajot (1968), IV, 178 n. 114.] If one takes “beguile” and “lead astray” as essentially a single matter, then there are two charges laid against Jesus in Sanhedrin 43a, as also in Justin, Dialogue 69: (1) µαvγoς = πVenæM]h;æ and (2) λαoπλαvνoς = tysiMehæ = jæyDiMæh.æ 111. Note, incidentally, that the date given for the crucifixion agrees not with the synoptic but rather with the Johannine chronology, i.e., Nisan 14. See Barrett, St. John, 39 ff., where, however, there is no reference to Sanhedrin 43a. 112. See the excellent discussion in Goldstein, Jesus, 57–62, and add the reference to Schlatter

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Jesus. There is at least one good reason for preferring the second interpretation. In rabbinic literature there are a number of passages which refer to a certain Ben Stada. Opinion is divided regarding the identification of this person. It cannot be doubted, however, that some of the rabbis incorrectly considered Ben Stada to be Jesus, and it is just this confusion of two persons which is important for our problem. I cite only one reference: The deceiver . . . They place two witnesses in hiding in an inner part of the house and light a candle above him that they may see him and hear his voice. Thus they did to Ben Stada in Lydda: and they placed two scholars of the Sages as witnesses, and they brought him to the court and stoned him. (j Sanhedrin 25c, d)

This is a story about a specific event. A rabbi named Ben Stada lived in Lydda. He was suspected of being a Mesith (πλαvνoς), was spied upon, brought to court, convicted on the charge of “enticing” or “leading astray,” and stoned. A passage in the Babylonian Talmud gives the same tradition, but to the sentence, “Thus they did to Ben Stada in Lydda,” the remark is added: And they hanged him on the eve of the Passover. (Sanhedrin 67a)

Here is the same combining of stoning and hanging found in Sanhedrin 43a, but now it plainly involves two different persons. Ben Stada was convicted of “leading astray” and was accorded the punishment properly called for by that offense: stoning. A later hand has appended a sentence connecting that event with Jesus’ crucifixion. Why was this connection made? A number of answers are possible, and dogmatism is clearly out of place here.112 It may be, however, that Ben Stada was, in fact, a rabbi who became a Jewish Christian. If he continued to train disciples, by imparting to them Christian teaching, the charge that he was a Mesith would indeed be correct. But had not Jesus himself taught the same doctrine? Yes. It would be easy, therefore, to “double” Ben Stada with Jesus.113 That is precisely what I am suggesting about the legal charge of “leading astray” in John 7. In portraying action taken against Jesus on the basis of this in the next note. 113. This line of thought first occurred to me as I read A. Schlatter’s remarkable book, Geschichte Israels (1906). I quote Schlatter: “In Lydda kam ein Rabbiner in den Verdacht, er neige sich zum Christentum. Man liess ihn heimlich durch zwei Zeugen beobachten und als durch diese sein christlicher Glaube festgestellt werden konnte, wurde er gesteinigt” (297; cf. 449 in the third edition, 1925). It is also possible, of course, that Ben Stada was confused with Jesus not because he himself was a Christian, but because the only (or chief) cases of Mesithim known to certain rabbis were those involving Christians. Such an interpretation of Sanhedrin 67a would lend equal support to the suggestions I have offered above. Note also the latter part of Sanhedrin 43a: Jesus’ disciples (of a latter period?) are condemned to death, though no charges are specified. 114. For this reading there is corroborating evidence in the Pseudo-Clementine literature. See

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charge, John is not dependent on “Jesus-tradition,” but rather primarily on his own experience. In his city the second and awesome step taken by the Jewish authorities (16:2b) was designed not to frighten synagogue members with the threat of excommunication, but rather to stop Jewish-Christians once for all from missioning among their own people. Do not such missioners persuade others to worship Jesus as a god alongside of God (5:18)? In spite of their having been excommunicated, they are, therefore, in the technical and legal sense, persons who lead the people astray. The law itself warns about them (Deut. 13:6 ff.) and provides the punishment due them. They are to be legally arrested, tried, and if found guilty, executed.114

Martyn, “A Dark and Difficult Chapter in the History of Johannine Christianity,” chap. 2 in The Gospel of John in Christian History (1979).

Chapter 4

HE MUST BE ARRESTED AND TRIED BY THE COURT “The chief priests and Pharisees sent officers to arrest him.”

It is now clear that in parts of John 5 and 7 we have before us pieces of a twolevel drama much like the one found in John 9. Not only does the Gerousia in John’s city subject members of the synagogue to sharp examination and even excommunication (the blind man). It also identifies Jewish-Christian evangelists as Mesithim (beguilers); and on the basis of that identification, it is able to institute legal proceedings against them. The final verses of chapter 7 show us that Gerousia assembled, and fully prepared to hold trial. It develops, of course, that the Jewish Christian is not pres­ent. The scene is, nevertheless, constructed quite as compellingly as is any other scene in the Gospel. By taking us right into a meeting of the Gerousia, it provides the climax of the drama focused on the “beguiler.” I do not mean to suggest, of course, that the scene is a report of a meeting known to John. What we term a report of current events would probably be as inconceivable to John as would a report of events in Jesus’ day. Nevertheless, we must consider the possibility that it reflects events and proceedings known to John, thus affording us further clues of considerable importance.115 Definite steps prepare the way for this final scene, and we must remind ­ourselves of them. John 7:30 is a general statement quite in the tradition of Mark 12:12: And they tried to arrest him, but feared the multitude. . . . Then they tried to arrest him; but no one laid hands on him,116 because his hour had not yet come. (John 7:30) 115. To distinguish tradition from redaction in John 7:45–52 may be virtually impossible. In any case, relying partly on the roles played by the various characters, we may conclude that the scene is not entirely John’s own creation. 116. Note the expression εjπιβαvλλειν εjπι; τινα; τη;ν χει ρ` α. It is used in the Synoptics to refer to Jesus’ arrest (in Luke 20:19 to an attempted arrest) and to the arrest of Christians (Luke 21:12). The latter reference, Luke 21:12, points to its use in Acts (4:3; 5:18; 12:1; 21:27) to refer to arrests of Jewish Christians.

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Reading these verses in their respective contexts will show, however, that John has altered the traditional formula in three ways: (1) In the Synoptics, the authorities fail to arrest Jesus because they fear the crowd. Jesus is very popular. One thinks twice before arresting a popular man. John, however, attributes the cause of their failure to the fact that in God’s purpose the hour has not yet arrived for Jesus to die. (2) In the Synoptics, the failure is not immediately followed by the dispatching of officers for another attempt. John’s interest in the contemporary level of his drama causes him to alter the tradition by introducing a second attempt immediately. (3) In the Synoptics, Jesus is shown to be popular among the Jerusalem crowd. So also in John. But, as we have just seen, for the synoptic evangelists Jesus’ popularity provides the reason for the Sanhedrin’s failure to arrest him. For John, on the other hand, Jesus’ popularity (7:31 f.) is precisely the cause of their attempt to arrest him. The first of these alterations is motivated by John’s theological interests. The second and third clearly reflect the contemporary level of his drama. It is precisely the relative success of the Jewish-Christian evangelist which causes the local Jewish authorities to conclude that he must be arrested as a Mesith. They therefore dispatch police with orders to bring the Christian to the Gerousia for trial. But the police are awestruck by his words—the words of his master—and return to the Gerousia empty-handed, where they are severely upbraided for their failure. The judges reveal their own insecurity by entertaining the possibility that the officers have themselves fallen under the influence of the Mesith, as indeed the officers’ statement might indicate: “No man ever spoke as this man speaks!”117 And the judges’ position is further compromised by the semidefection of one of their own number, Nicodemus. At this point caution is necessary. Have we not overstepped the bounds of probability? The drama may indeed reflect two levels in general. But do we not press the case too far if we take these developments as reflections of actual events in John’s milieu? We have just seen how John allows his own theological interests to shape the story. Are we to think of the local Gerousia as actually dispatching police to arrest a member of John’s congregation? Answers to these questions hinge partly on an analysis of the way in which John portrays the characters in the drama. We must consider carefully the roles which they play and the names by which John refers to them. 1. The Chief Priests and the Pharisees (oιJ αjρχιερει`ς και; oιJ Φαρισαι`oι) In John 5, the authorities are consistently called “the Jews.” So also in John 7, until we come to the part of the drama in which the attempted arrest is portrayed. 117. See note 102 above. It is obvious that John intends his readers to sense in the question (7:47) a degree of insecurity on the part of the Pharisees.

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Then there steps onto the stage a group of powerful men, having command of a police force, able to hold court, and referred to as “the chief priests and the Pharisees.” Who are these men? They obviously constitute the Sanhedrin. But just for that reason we must recognize that the expression “chief priests and Pharisees” is a very strange combination.118 One would not be surprised to hear the Sanhedrin referred to as “the chief priests and the elders,”119 for the men so designated were members of the Sanhedrin in their capacity as chief priests and elders. And since the former represented the dominant force in the Sanhedrin, it was even possible to employ the term “the chief priests” as a historically accurate shorthand expression for that body.120 Allegiance to the Pharisaic party, on the other hand, cut across the proper distinctions in the Sanhedrin. Certain chief priests were not only members of the Sanhedrin but also of the Pharisaic party. John’s reference to the Sanhedrin as “the chief priests and the Pharisees” is, therefore, a historically confusing reference. It is as strange as would be a reference to a modern seminary faculty as “the ministers and Presbyterians.” Indeed some might be neither, and that too reminds us that “the elders” are completely left aside in John’s formula. Why, then, does John employ such a strange expression? The answer probably lies in his determination simultaneously to bear witness on two levels. The chief priests were the authorities of the Temple in which Jesus preached; they were the leading men of the Jerusalem Sanhedrin, prior to the fall of the Holy City. By mentioning them, John cares for the einmalig level of his drama, for they are contemporaries of the earthly Jesus. In John’s own time, on the other hand, the reins of Jewish authority are held to a large extent by the Pharisaic Bet Din in Jamnia, and, on the local scene, by a Gerousia, the majority of whose members are (or appear to John to be) Pharisees. In mentioning them John has before his eyes the Gerousia which attempts to try Jewish-Christian missioners for “leading astray” members of the synagogue. Thus the two-level witness is accomplished by an unhistorical juxtaposing of two terms; the resultant expression refers simultaneously to the Jerusalem Sanhedrin of Jesus’ day and to the Gerousia of John’s city. 2. Police Officers (uJphrevtai) When the Sanhedrin (Gerousia) desires to subject Jesus (the Christian missioner) to a trial, it dispatches police officers to arrest him. The Greek term 118. The combination is found only in Matthew (twice; it refers to the Sanhedrin) and in John (five times; always the Sanhedrin) among New Testament documents. See also Josephus, Vita, 21. For an interpretation of the expression in Matthew and in John, see R. Hummel, Die Auseinandersetzung, 16, where I learned of the passage in Josephus. I am pleased to find that, on the whole, Hummer’s understanding coincides with my own. 119. This expression is often so used in the New Testament, as in other literature of the time. 120. See Acts 9:14 and Bauer, Lexicon, 112.

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is υJπηρεvτης, the Hebrew equivalent of which would presumably be ˜Z:j,æ ­(Chazzan).121 Here John does not need to juxtapose two terms. He has been able to effect the double level with a single term. For Chazzanim may equally well refer to the Levitical Temple police, who were at the beck and call of the Sanhedrin (via its high priestly members), and to the beadles of a local court, among whose functions may have been that of summoning litigants for trial before a local Gerousia.122 The double level of the drama is apparent in verses 32 and 45: In verse 32 the Chazzanim are police officers subject to the authority of the chief priests (einmalig) and of the Pharisees (contemporary). But when, in verse 45, the Chazzanim are sharply questioned by their superiors and even suspected of being led astray by the very Mesith whom they should have brought for trial, the superiors are simply called “the Pharisees.” It is apparent, therefore, that in constructing the final scene (7:45 ff.), John concentrates his view on the contemporary level of the drama. To his eyes the power in the local Gerousia lies with members who belong to the Pharisaic chabura, and these men do actually dispatch Chazzanim to arrest Jewish Christians charged with being Mesithim. 3. The Rulers (oiJ a[rconte~ = a[lloi of 9:16) Like the preceding word, this term is a perfect selection for a two-level frame of reference. In the plural it can properly refer to members of the Jerusalem Sanhedrin or to authorities in any city who are members of the local Gerousia.123 Presumably John could have referred to the Sanhedrin/Gerousia by using this term; indeed, in 7:26 he apparently does just that. Elsewhere, however, he prefers the term “the Pharisees,” and there may, indeed, be a reason for his preference. The Gerousia with which he is acquainted is dominantly loyal to the 121. Delitzsch’s selection of µytrvm is less likely. Evidently ˜Z:jæ was translated by νεωκovρoς as well as by υJπηρεvτης. See V. A. Tcherikover, Corpus Papyrorum Judaicarum (1957–), vol. 1, 239, item 129, line 7. The reference in Tcherikover was called to my attention by Ed P. Sanders. 122. A local Gerousia had its own Chazzan and its own scribe. The latter recorded the pleas, arguments, verdicts, etc.; the former had several duties which apparently included being dispatched to summon the litigants. See Shabbath, 56a, and Krauss, Synogogale Alt., 121 ff. In a middle-sized city the Gerousia could have two scribes and two Chazzanim. See also Sylvan D. Schwartzman, “How Well Did the Synoptic Evangelists Know the Synagogue?” HUCA 24 (1952–53), 115–32. The article on “Synagogue” in the Hastings dictionary was written by W. Bacher and is the source of the Shabbath reference given above. 123. See Bauer, Lexicon, on α[ρχων 2.a. Schürer, Jewish People, vol. 2, part 2, 244 ff., and Krauss, Synagogale Alt., 146 ff., do not wholly agree on the precise meaning of α[ρχoντες. See also H. J. Leon, The Jews of Ancient Rome (1960), 174 ff. The Fourth Evangelist’s use of the expression could be taken to refer either to the Gerousia of a single synagogue or to the Gerousia of a city. For our purpose the choice does not greatly matter.

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authority of Pharisaic Jamnia. That is why he can refer to the Gerousia with the single term “the Pharisees.” The Jamnia Loyalists who enforce the Benediction Against Heretics are, for all practical purposes, the Gerousia. But John knows that even among members of the Gerousia there are secret believers (12:42), and he may have employed a term by which he can speak about them.124 Perhaps he consistently refers to these persons as “rulers.” Since the term is used only four times, this hypothesis may be easily tested:125 Nicodemus is a “ruler of the Jews” (3:1), and it is obvious that for John he is typical of those in the Gerousia who secretly believe. He visits Jesus by night as an earnest inquirer; he defends Jesus in a meeting of the Gerousia, even though that causes his colleagues to look on him with suspicion; he joins the synoptic Joseph of Arimathea in the task of tenderly burying Jesus. This final reference to Nicodemus is particularly telling. Joseph of Arimathea is “a disciple of Jesus” whose errand of pious mercy must be executed “secretly, for fear of the Jews.” When John joins Nicodemus to this figure, he tells his reader quite plainly that Nicodemus is to be understood as a secret believer.126 In 7:26 the term is used to refer to the Sanhedrin/Gerousia. But here John thinks not of the majority (the Jamnia Loyalists), but of the silent minority which does, in fact, know Jesus to be Messiah. In both of the remaining references (7:48 and 12:42), “the rulers” are carefully distinguished from “the Pharisees.” Though both are members of the Gerousia, the rulers fear the Pharisees! If both terms can refer, on occasion, to the whole of the Gerousia, why should they be carefully distinguished? Because “the rulers” (in 12:42, “many of the rulers”) is John’s shorthand for the secretly believing members of the Gerousia, while “the Pharisees” is his term for the Loyalists who dominate that body.127 Thus when he allows the Pharisees to 124. I do not mean to imply that John intended his readers to analyze the dramatis personae as we are now doing that. See the last paragraph of the present chapter. 125. In 12:31, 14:30, and 16:11, when John speaks of “the ruler [singular] of this world,” he means Satan. The use of the plural is clearly distinct from the use of the singular. 126. Perhaps the old and much discussed question whether John’s Nicodemus bears some relation to the Nakdimon ben Gorion and/or the Buni of rabbinic tradition should be reopened. Most of the discussion has been carried out on the assumption that for Nakdimon to be significantly related to Nicodemus, he would have to be a contemporary of Jesus. But if we read the references in John 3, 7, and 19 as parts of the two-level witness, a significant relation requires not that Nakdimon be a contemporary of Jesus, but rather that he be a near-contemporary of the Fourth Evangelist. His being alive, therefore, in 70 c.e. is no problem at all. That he is not said to have been a teacher is, however, problematic. And the relevant Beraitha in Sanhedrin 43a is far from clear. See the discussion in J. Jeremias, Jerusalem zur Zeit Jesu (19633), 110 n. (and index); Billerbeck, Kommentar, vol. 2, 412–19; Klausner, Jesus, 29 f.; Herford, Christianity, 90 ff.; Goldstein, Jesus, 31 f., 111 ff. 127. I am tempted to suggest that in a paraphrase of 12:42 the term oιJ Φαρισαι`οι be used twice: Many of the members of the Gerousia (α[ρχoντες) believed. But they did not confess their faith. For the Pharisaic apostles (oιJ Φαρισαιo` ι = µyjwlvh) came from Jamnia with the

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say to their Chazzanim, “Have any of the rulers or of the Pharisees believed in him?” (7:48), his choice of words reflects the fact that there is indeed a division (σχιvσµα) in the Gerousia itself. Some of the members ( = the rulers) do believe, as Nicodemus shortly proves, yet without making the awesome confession which would lead to their excommunication at the hands of the majority. It is now clear that the scale of probability is once again tipped in favor of the two-level drama. I do not suggest that the dramatis personae can be explained in no other way. I do think the path we have taken is the most probable one, especially in light of our previous discoveries of the two-level type of drama in John. Sometimes John presented the two levels by using a single word for a corresponding pair of actors (υJπηρε τv αι; α[ρχoντες). Sometimes he did so by an unhistorical juxtaposing of two terms (oιJ αjρχιερει`ς και; oιJ Φαρι-σαι`oι). In either case, John was neither playing a kind of code-game, nor trying to instruct members of his church about points of correspondence between the Jewish hierarchy of Jesus’ day and that of their own day. One may be confident that he did not intend his readers to analyze the dramatis personae in the way in which we have done it. Indeed, I doubt that he was himself analytically conscious of what I have termed the two-level drama, for his major concern in this regard was to bear witness to the essential integrity of the einmalig drama of Jesus’ earthly life and the contemporary drama in which the Risen Lord acts through his servants.

Chapter 5 reworded Benediction Against Heretics, and the majority of the Gerousia (oιJ Φαρισαι `oι) employed it as was intended: to excommunicate Christians from the synagogue. Cf. Dialogue 137: Agree with us, therefore, and do not insult (λoιδoρεvω) the Son of God; ignoring your Pharisaic teachers (Φαρισαιo` ι διδαvσκαλoι), do not scorn the King of Israel as your synagogue presidents instruct you to do after prayers. Are these Pharisaic teachers the Sheluchim from Jamnia? They seem to be distinguished from the (local?) authorities (αjρχισυναvγωγoι) who enforce the Benediction Against Heretics. In any case, one must consider this possibility in light of the famous passage in Epiphanius (39, 11) in which the author speaks of a certain Joseph, a Jewish apostle, who was dispatched with epistles to Cilicia. In virtue of his apostleship he is said to have deposed and removed from office “many wicked chiefs of synagogues.” Harnack (The Mission and Expansion of Christianity, vol. 1 [1908], 330) summarizes the picture of Jewish apostles gained from this and other references as follows: “(1) they were consecrated persons of a very high rank; (2) they were sent out into the Diaspora to collect tribute for headquarters; (3) they brought encyclical letters with them, kept the Diaspora in touch with the centre, and, informed of the intentions of the latter (or of the patriarch), received orders about any dangerous movement, and had to organize resistance to it; (4) they exercised certain powers of surveillance and discipline in the Diaspora; and (5) on returning to their own country, they formed a sort of council which aided the patriarch in supervising the interest of the law.” Note also Juster’s comment about the Patriarchal apostles: “Ces fonctionnaires avaient une compétence très étendue. Ils étaient chargés de contrôler les magistrats des communautés . . .” (Les Juifs, vol. 1, 389). 128. I have commented above on the question of chronological sequence (see 69 ff.). Perhaps

YET THE CONVERSATION ­CONTINUES “Why are you listening to him?”

To say, in light of the discoveries we have now made, that the relationship between John’s Jewish-Christian community and the neighboring synagogue was filled with tension is clearly a case of understatement. While we certainly do not have sufficient data to be able to speak about the whole of that relationship, one thing is quite apparent. The dominant force in the Jewish community has felt it necessary to insulate the synagogue as effectively as possible from John’s church. The Gerousia in John’s city knows that to (1) the threat of excommunication and (2) the legal process carried out against Jewish-Christian missioners must be added (3) the plea that synagogue members not even converse with Christians.128 Those who utter the pained cry of John 10:20, “Why are you listening to him?” probably correspond closely to the rabbis whom Trypho refers to as: our teachers who warned us not be on familiar terms with you Christians, nor to converse with you on these subjects. (Dialogue 38, 1)

In John’s milieu, the dominant opinion on the Jewish side may have been that it was a sin even to listen to words spoken by a Christian.129 It is equally clear, however, that by the time of John’s writing, the insulating process has not yet met with complete success. Jewish Christians still make their way among synagogue members, and it is all too obvious from the pleading question of John 10:20 that some of those members are listening to what the missioners say. Thus, even in a situation in which conversation can lead to excommunication for the synagogue member and to arrest and trial for the the plea that synagogue members not converse with Christians was made at an early stage. In that case, the plea will probably have been reemphasized again and again, as other measures failed to bring desired results. 129. Cf. the famous story of R. Eliezer’s arrest for heresy, usually dated about 109 c.e. (Herford, Christianity, 137 ff.; Goldstein, Jesus, 39 ff.; Barrett, The Gospel of John and Judaism, 69, n. 39). Schlatter’s comment, on the basis of that story, was: “Man hielt es auf der jüdischen Seite für Sünde, ein christliches Wort auch nur anzuhören” (Geschichte Israels [1906], 297). See also Qoheleth Rabba 1, 8. 130. Cf. W. C. van Unnik, “The Purpose of St. John’s Gospel,” 167–96, in The Gospels Recon-

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­Jewish-Christian missioner, the two still engage in discourse. Precisely what do they talk about? We may begin to answer that question by recalling the contemporary dimensions of the two-level drama. Obviously they discuss the issue of Jesus’ identity: Is he the Messiah? We have seen that the question takes various forms. In the excommunication drama of John 9, the titles “Prophet,” “Messiah,” and “Son of Man” appear. We will not speak, just now, of the relationships among these titles; it is enough to recall that excommunication is clearly said to follow upon confession of Jesus as Messiah. In the beguiler drama of John 5 and 7 the christological accent falls initially on the title “Son of God,” but as the drama unfolds, we encounter the other titles as well. In the climax of that drama theological honors are shared by the titles “Messiah” and “Prophet” (7:40–52). It is clear that the issue of Jesus’ messiahship stands at the center of the synagogue-church discussion. Indeed the more we read John’s Gospel with this issue in mind, the more obvious it is that the title “Messiah” occupies an important place in the whole of John’s thought. Consider two relevant passages: When Andrew, Peter’s brother, accepts the Baptist’s witness to Jesus and follows him, he also speaks to his brother about Jesus. “We have found the Messiah (which means Christ).” (1:41) In the course of her conversation with Jesus, the woman of Samaria says: “I know that Messiah is coming (he who is called Christ).” (4:25)

In view of the frequency with which the title “Messiah” is employed in modern conversations and writings about the New Testament, one is surprised to learn that John is the only New Testament author who employs the title itself. To be sure, he translates it, and that fact may seem to militate against the thesis that he writes in a way which reflects actual intercourse between Jews and Jewish Christians. Would not Jews, of all people, be well acquainted with this title in its original form (reproduced in Greek transliteration)? One may answer, of course, that he offers the translation for the sake of his non-Jewish readers. But it is also possible that even among his Jewish readers are persons for whom the Hebrew tongue is a foreign language. It is well known that one of the most creative Jewish thinkers of the first century, Philo of Alexandria, was not able to read or write the sacred tongue; it is not difficult to imagine that the same thing is true of a number of the Jews in John’s city. Perhaps for them, therefore, as well as for others, John translates the Hebrew title “Messiah.” But the important point to notice is that he is not satisfied merely to employ the translation alone. He emphatically uses the term itself, and he makes clear that he wants it to bear its full titular force.130 This point may be grasped even more securely if one will read the whole of the section which extends from

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1:35 to 1:51. Here we see that John is acquainted with non-Christian readers who already have conceptions of the Messiah. With these readers the task is not to awaken expectations of the Messiah, but rather—with certain qualifications—to announce that Jesus is the long-awaited Messiah. That is to say, 1:35–51 is not primarily designed to tell the reader that “Jesus is Messiah”; in the first instance it is composed for readers who already have (at least latent) expectations of the Messiah. To them John wants to say, “Jesus is Messiah.”131 This fact must be kept in mind when one reads the perceptive comment of R. Schnackenburg: It is remarkable how prominently featured in John is the question whether Jesus is “the Christ” (the Messiah). Indeed, all the more so in view of the fact that long before John wrote (already in Paul’s writings) the expression Christ had become the name of the Christian redeemer. That use is attested in John itself in two places (1:17; 17:3, Jesus Christ); in all other instances, however [and there are 15 of them], the expression oJ χριστovς or χριστovς (1:41; 9:22) is used to refer to the Jewish (or Samaritan, 4:25, 29) expectation of the salvation bringer.132

Thus, both for John and for his conversation partners in the synagogue, the technical issue of Jesus’ messiahship is of paramount importance. In closest connection with it stands another question: the correct interpretation of Jesus’ signs. It is this issue which divides the Gerousia in John 9 (see particularly v. 16: How can a man who is a sinner do such signs?), and the same issue plays a similar role in John 7 (for example, v. 31: When the Christ appears, will he do more signs than this man has done?). Indeed, we encounter here a leitmotif which, like the issue of Jesus’ messiahship, extends far beyond the two dramas that have thus far claimed the major portion of our attention. One thinks immediately of the climactic sentence in which John states his purpose in writing the whole of the Gospel: Now Jesus did many other signs . . . which are not written in this book; but these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ (oJ χριστovς ). (20:30 f.)133 sidered (1960; selections from Studio Evangelica, TU 73); N. A. Dahl, “The Johannine Church and History,” 124–42, in W. Klassen and G. F. Snyder, eds., Current Issues in New Testament Interpretation (1962). 131. A case can be made for the thesis that John 1:35–49 is composed on the basis of elements drawn from one of the homilies in which the messianic faith was first preached in the synagogues of John’s city. See Martyn, “We Have Found Elijah,” R. Hamerton-Kelly and R. Scroggs (eds.), Jews, Greeks, and Christians, Essays in Honor of W. D. Davies (1976), 181–219; reprinted in ­Martyn, The Gospel of John in Christian History (1979). 132. From p. 240 of “Die Messiasfrage im Johannesevangelium,” 240–64, in Neutestamentliche Aufsälze (Festschrift J. Schmid, 1963). See now Schnackenburg, John, 510. 133. We shall see in a moment that the full text of 20:30 f. must be taken into account. For the

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Four observations are necessary with regard to this statement: (1) The term “signs” is here used to refer to the whole of the Gospel. (2) It is equally important to say, however, that this is the only place in which John uses the term so broadly. In all of the other sixteen instances it refers in a relatively unsophisticated way to Jesus’ miraculous deeds. He does signs by performing wonders. Thus, however broadly the term “sign” may be used in John 20:30 f., there too it includes the individual miracles related in the earlier part of the Gospel. (3) In his statement of purpose as in other passages to which we have just alluded, John uses the expression “the Christ” with its full titular force. One ought to translate 20:30 f. as it is given above, but with an awareness, gained from 1:41 and 4:25, that both John and his community are quite conscious of the equation: The Christ = The Messiah of Jewish expectation. (4) I do not mean to suggest, of course, that John recognizes in this equation an adequate statement of Jesus’ identity. Such a suggestion would overlook the full text of 20:30 f., not to mention a host of other data which will shortly occupy us. John himself is not satisfied until he has said: “ . . . but these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ (oJ χριστovς), the Son of God, and that believing, you may have life in his name.” It is true nevertheless that, for John, Jesus’ miraculous deeds witness to his identity as Messiah.134 Nor is this an opinion held only by John and his church. As John has portrayed them, members of the synagogue share this view. Yet many of the people believed in him; they said, “When the Christ appears, will he do more signs than this man has done?” (7:31)

Similar notes are struck at a number of points. For example: Now when he was in Jerusalem at the Passover feast, many believed in his name when they saw his signs which he did. (2:23) When the people saw the sign which he had done, they said, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world!” (6:14)

Because the signs are so successful, causing the crowds to follow Jesus (6:2), to believe in him (11:45), to go out to greet him (12:18), and even to go away from the synagogue (12:11),135 the Jewish authorities convene the Sanhedrin (Gerousia) to consider a plan of action against Jesus, “For this man performs many signs. . . . Look, the world has gone after him” (11:47; 12:19). time being the important term is “the Christ.” See also the following note. 134. If there was a Signs Document, its christological force must have rested on the assumption that a series of Jesus’ signs (miracles) would, in fact, bear witness to his messianic status. Under what conditions such an assumption could be reasonably made in the first century is a question we will pursue in a moment. 135. This is apparently the meaning of υJπη`γον in 12:11.

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It is true that John has definite reservations regarding “sign faith.”136 People who believe only on the basis of signs are not to be trusted (2:24), and their response is often inappropriate (6:15), for they have not really seen the signs (6:26). Dependence on signs is sharply rebuked (4:48; cf. 6:63 and 20:29). Indeed John can say that the signs have failed to awaken faith: Though he had done so many signs before them, yet they did not believe in him. (12:37)

But on two grounds we must not be deterred just now by these reservations. First, we will have ample opportunity to consider the fine nuances of John’s own stance in our next chapter. And second, the very accent of failure which is expressed in the verse just quoted emphasizes the assumption that some, at least, should find in a recounting of Jesus’ signs a significant indication of his messiahship.137 Thus, to an extent recognized both by the separated church and by the synagogue, the Messiah is expected to be a miracle-worker. For this reason the technical question of Jesus’ messiahship is decisively bound up with the correct interpretation of his signs. This seemingly innocent conclusion actually brings us face-to-face with a problem of some importance. Is there evidence to suggest that Jewish groups (or even one Jewish group) of the first century expected the Messiah to be a worker of miracles? In view of the importance which this question possesses for New Testament study, it is amazing that it has been largely ignored until recently.138 Nor is it the case that the issue is so extremely complex as to invite neglect. The essentials may be briefly stated. Jewish sources are not silent with regard to the Messiah. He is almost always expected to be the Son of David, since at its heart the messianic hope is patterned on the glorious period of Israel’s history under David.139 He will, therefore, be a wondrous king who powerfully demolishes all bonds which hold Israel in subjection. Chapter 17 of the Psalms of Solomon, long held to be one of the most important sources for our knowledge of messianic 136. Cf. R. T. Fortna, “Source and Redaction in the Fourth Gospel’s Portrayal of Jesus’ Signs,” JBL 89 (1970), 151–66; and Paul W. Meyer, “Seeing, Signs, and Sources in the Fourth Gospel” in his forthcoming volume The Word in This World. 137. Important as 4:48 may be in John’s whole view, it is equally important to note that of the seventeen instances of the term “sign” in the Gospel, 4:48 is the only clearly negative reference and the only one which links “sign” with “wonder,” thus reproducing the ancient Hebrew expression. 138. See now D. Moody Smith, “The Milieu of the Johannine Miracle Source,” R. HamertonKelly and R. Scroggs (eds.), Jews, Greeks, and Christians (1976), 164–80, especially 168 ff. and the literature cited there. 139. Strictly speaking, to refer to the messianic hope is somewhat misleading. First-century Judaism held its messianic hopes in a variety of patterns, directed, among others, toward Messiah ben David, Messiah ben Levi, Messiah ben Joseph, and Messiah ben Ephraim. See the standard

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hope, speaks of the Messiah’s works (v. 40), and the context makes clear what these works are: the mighty defeat of Israel’s enemies, the cleansing of Jerusalem from nations which oppress her, the gathering together of a holy people, the shepherding of the Lord’s flock. For our present question it is of equal importance to point out what is not said regarding the Messiah’s works. They are not said to include individual deeds which might be understood as miracles. Of course the Messiah is a wondrous warrior and a marvelously wise ruler. But he is not portrayed as one who heals the paralyzed, miraculously provides bread and water, restores sight to the blind, or raises the dead.140 Nor is the picture changed if we ask how the famous thirty-fifth chapter of Isaiah was interpreted in first-century Judaism. The pertinent text reads: Then the eyes of the blind will be opened,    and the ears of the deaf will be unstopped. Then the lame man shall leap as a deer,    and the tongue of the dumb shall sing. For in the wilderness waters shall break forth,    and streams in the desert. . . . (35:5 f.)

Here the prophet paints a picture of hope in which God will come with salvation. For while the verbs in the first two lines are passive, the context shows that the subject of the verbal action is understood to be God. Thus we have here—and other references could also be given—a portrait of a wondrous time characterized by miracles. The conclusion has been reasonably drawn that Judaism expected the messianic age to be a time of miracles. But since the Targum of Isaiah 35, like the original text itself, does not even mention the Messiah, this text is clearly inadmissable as evidence for an expectation of the Messiah as a miracle-worker. There are a few references in Jewish literature to messianic pretenders who led crowds of people into the wilderness, promising the occurrence of signs.141 But there is no indication that any of these men was thought to be the Messiah. Furthermore, the signs referred to appear Mosaic rather than Davidic; they are, so to speak, wilderness signs. texts on messianic hope, and particularly the very helpful dictionary articles by R. Meyer (RGG3) and E. Jenni (IDB); also A. S. van der Woude, Die Messianischen Vorstellungen der Gemeinde von Qumran (1957), where the messianic beliefs of Qumran are set in the context formed by other patterns. For our present purposes the statement may stand that the Son of David is the most frequently encountered messianic figure. 140. Some of Jesus’ signs in the Fourth Gospel are somewhat reminiscent of those attributed to Elijah, as we shall see below, note 172. 141. Josephus, Bell. II, 259; Antiq. XX, 167 f.; cf. Antiq. XX, 97. In the first of these references it is important to notice that the signs are (a) signs of deliverance (σηµει `α εjλευθεριvας),

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In the Tannaitic literature the situation is essentially the same.142 To be sure, one will want to reckon with the dangers of drawing far-reaching conclusions from the Tannaitic references to the Messiah on two grounds: they are relatively few in number (not a single one in the Mishnah), and to some extent they may be influenced (negatively) by Christian messianism. Nevertheless it is important to note the categorical character of Klausner’s statement: The Messiah—and this should be carefully noted—is never mentioned anywhere in the Tannaitic literature as a wonder-worker per se.143

In light of the evidence, therefore, one can only blink when he finds Mo­winckel speaking of “Messianic works and miracles.”144 And one’s initial surprise is compounded when he notices that Mowinckel supports his point by referring to the data in John’s Gospel with which we are presently concerned. These data present us, of course, with the problem, not with the answer! Thus one can scarcely say on the basis of the Fourth Gospel: According to Jewish thought it is only then [when the Messiah openly performs what Mowinckel has just referred to as “the Messianic works and miracles”] that not miracles of healing, provision of food, etc., and (b) wonders to be performed by God, not by the messianic pretenders themselves. Essentially the same picture is given in the second reference. Theudas, mentioned in the third reference, promised to divide the Jordan River (the term σηµει§oν is not used), but he represented himself not as the Messiah, but as a prophet. Careful study of these (and related) references will show, I think, that what calls for investigation in their case is in the first instance not the technical question of the Messiah, but rather the fascinating way in which the motifs represented by the terms πλαvνoς and σηµει `α are interrelated. One suspects that behind this interrelation (cf. also Mark 13) lies Deut. 13. 142. Exceptions will be noted below, 107 f. 143. J. Klausner, The Messianic Idea in Israel (trans. W. F. Stinespring, 1955), 506 (italics removed). That there are differences of opinion in regard to the rabbinic evidence must not be overlooked. Actually, the problem of a miracle-working Messiah arises not only in the Fourth Gospel, but also in Matthew. Indeed, Matthew 12:23: And all the people were amazed [at Jesus’ healing of a blind and dumb demoniac], and said, “Can this be the Son of David?” sounds remarkably like John 7:31: “When the Christ appears, will he do more signs than this man has done?” Commentators who sense the problem (they are exceptions!) usually point to Pesikta Rabbati 36 (162a), following Billerbeck, Kommentar, vol. 1, 641. But this appears to be the only reference of its kind, and it is a rather weak reed. It is late, and its real thrust has nothing to do with the Messiah’s being a miracle-worker per se. 144. S. Mowinckel, He That Cometh (trans. G. W. Anderson, 1951), 303. Mowinckel’s book is extremely valuable on the whole. 145. Ibid. 146. Ph. Vielhauer, “Erwägungen zur Christologie des Markusevangeliums,” 155–69 in Zeit

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he will become Messiah in the full sense of the term.145

On the contrary. If Christian data be left aside, one will agree with the sweeping statement of Vielhauer: In first-century Judaism the Messiah was not thought of as a worker of miracles.146

Nor is it surprising that a number of scholars have reached the same conclusion. Though miracles were indeed a characteristic of the messianic period in Jewish belief, still the Messiah himself was not thought of as a miracle worker.147

Our problem is, therefore, a genuine one. John presupposes that his use of Jesus’ miracles as evidence pointing to his messiahship will make sense to Jews, whereas Jewish sources seem to give us no reason to view this presupposition as a realistic one.148 In general terms a way out of our dilemma is not difficult to find. Jewish expectations of the future were extraordinarily varied. If it be true that there is no suggestion of miraculous activity on the part of the Davidic Messiah, it is equally true that the figures expected by Jews to play roles in the eschatological future (not only the various messiahs, but also the Son of Man, the Prophet like Moses, the Prophet like Elijah, and others) were allowed to coalesce in the most varied ways. Thus, while we must keep our problem firmly in mind—John does use the title “Messiah” in a careful, one might even say technical, way, as we have seen—it is just possible that traits “properly” belonging to another eschatological figure have “rubbed off” on the Johannine Messiah. We need to ask, therefore, whether the working of miracles is an activity properly expected of another of the eschatological figures. And, if that should prove to be the und Geschichte, ed. E. DinkIer (1964). The German clause is found on page 159: “Da im zeitgenössischen Judentum der Messias nicht als Wundertäter galt . . .” 147. R. Bultmann, Theology of the New Testament (1951–55), vol. 1, 27. The same opinion is expressed by A. Schweitzer, The Quest of the Historical Jesus (1948), 347 f.; F. Hahn, Hoheitstitel, 219; R. Fuller, The Foundations of New Testament Christology (1965), 31, 192. Cf. further the standard works such as P. Volz, Eschatologie, 173–86, 387 f.; Bousset and Gressmann, Religion, 222–30, 242 ff. In the same vein U. Wilckens comments helpfully on 1 Cor. 1:22 in Weisheit und Torheit (1959), 34, n. 1: “G. Stählin . . . rightly says that behind I Cor. 1:22 stands the assumption of a sensible revelation of the Messiah through signs; but he is unable to confirm this assumption from Jewish sources” (italics added). 148. It should be clear that we are speaking of a problem which arises when a Christian seeks to support Jesus’ messiahship in conversations with a non-Christian Jew. For a Christian to say to a fellow Christian that Jesus’ signs witness to his messiahship is, of course, quite another matter. See M. de Jonge, “Jewish Expectations about the ‘Messiah’ according to the Fourth Gospel,” NTS 19 (1972/73), 246–70, especially 258.

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case, we must see whether the figure in question plays a role in the Johannine church-synagogue conversation. A hint in this regard has already come to our attention. The passages in Josephus cited above in note 141 connect signs with the title “prophet,” with the parting of the waters of a river, and with the wilderness. Obviously we must consider the possibility that the figure of Moses plays an important role in the Johannine church-synagogue conversation. It will suffice to cite a single reference from among the many which have already claimed our attention. In the course of their examination of the formerly blind man, the members of the Gerousia say: You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from. (9:28 f.)

We may say, therefore, that the dialogue between John’s church and the synagogue is punctuated by at least three issues, and the three may very well be closely interrelated: Is Jesus the Messiah of Jewish expectation? How is one correctly to interpret Jesus’ signs? What is the relationship between Jesus and Moses? It may just be that the presence of this third issue explains to some degree the problematic relationship between the first two. In any case, since our interest is centered in these issues as they arise in John’s church, we will look first at the role which Moses plays in John’s Gospel. When we have a firm grasp on that, we may cast our net somewhat broadly in order to see if illuminating data are forthcoming from Jewish sources.

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Part III Major Theological Terms of the Conversation

Chapter 6

FROM THE EXPECTATION OF THE PROPHET-MESSIAH LIKE MOSES . . .

“As the first redeemer, so also the last.” “This is truly the Prophet.”

We have seen that the Johannine church-synagogue conversation has at least three foci: the technical question of Jesus’ messiahship; the correct interpretation of his signs; the relationship between him and the towering figure of Judaism, Moses. But we have only hinted at this third issue; we now need to look squarely at the data which pertain to it. The basic points present themselves when we pose two questions: What does each party to the conversation say about Moses? What does each say about the relationship between Moses and the Messiah? 1. Moses As John portrays them the Jews are by no means silent with regard to Moses. They make affirmations about him in both explicit and implicit ways: a. Explicit affirmations about Moses which the evangelist attributes to the synagogue: 1. “We know that God spoke to Moses” (9:29). 2. “We are disciples of Moses” (9:28). b. Implicit affirmations: 3. Moses gave the Law to Israel (7:19). 4. The Law of Moses must not be broken (7:23). For example, the Sabbath must be strictly observed (9:16; 5:10). 5. The Am Ha’arets, who by definition do not know the Mosaic Law and who therefore do not observe it, stand under a curse (7:49). 6. In contrast, those who are truly Jews diligently study (“search”) the scriptures of Moses in the confidence of gaining life thereby (5:39).

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7. True confidence of gaining life by exegetical activity seems to rest on: a. a belief that in order to receive the Law, Moses ascended to God on Sinai; in his ascent he was granted a vision of heavenly things (note the polemic of 1:18; 3:13, 31–36); b. a conviction that by placing one’s hope in Moses—by in fact believing in him (5:45 f.), that is, by truly hearing the voice of Moses, the shepherd whom God commissioned for Israel (cf. 10:3)—one may oneself be granted heavenly visions (note the polemic of 3:3).149 It hardly needs to be said that John is not merely “reporting” the opinions of his Jewish neighbors. We need to ask, therefore, whether these seven affirmations are harmonious with what we know of Jewish theology from other sources. When we do so, we discover that every one of them can be found in Jewish texts which put us in touch with the first century. Beyond this it needs to be emphasized, however, that these seven points are not merely historically reliable. To a considerable degree they are representative of the very life nerve of Judaism, and they are stated in John’s Gospel with great precision. Moses is the normatively authorized figure of Judaism. The Am Ha’arets, who by definition do not know the Mosaic Law and who therefore do not observe it, stand under a curse.150 We have good reason to believe that rabbinic scholars did refer to themselves as “Disciples of Moses,” an expression preserved only by John among early Christian authors, but attested also in rabbinic literature.151 Such learned men did in fact “search the scriptures” (εjρευνα`ν = vræd): , and they did so in the confident belief that “life” was to be found in the process.152 Indeed in certain circles this “life” was connected with the affirmation of Moses’ ascent to God on Sinai to receive a heavenly vision and with the personal hope for a similar gift.153 149. I have drawn most of the aspects of this seventh point from the perceptive analysis of W. A. Meeks, Prophet-King, 295 ff. Cf. also Meeks, “The Divine Agent and His Counterfeit in Philo and the Fourth Gospel,” E. S. Fiorenza (ed.), Aspects of Religious Propaganda in Judaism and Early Christianity (1976), 43–67. 150. That Billerbeck assembled the rabbinic teaching regarding the Am Ha’arets in his comment on John 7:49 is no accident. That verse (cf. 9:34) is the most transparently accurate reference to the Am Ha’arets in the whole of the New Testament. 151. Yoma 4a (Billerbeck, Kommentar, vol. 2, 535; Dodd, Interpretation, 77 n.). Contrast Paul’s expression “baptized into Moses,” which is probably his own creation. 152. It is a bit arbitrary to select one reference in Jewish literature to illustrate this belief. The whole structure of Jewish faith is built on it. It is important, however, to notice once more the accuracy of John’s terminology. See the commentaries on John 5:39 and 7:52: ε ρj ευνα`ν is the precise equivalent of vræd,: the term from which the word “midrash” is derived. 153. The primary data are collected and keenly interpreted in Meeks, Prophet-King, 156 ff., 205 ff., 241 ff.

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There is, then, nothing intrinsic to these seven points which indicates a distortion of the conversation. Quite the contrary. They stand proudly among the most accurate statements about Jewish thought in the whole of the New Testament. Furthermore, it is probable that John is ready to affirm a number of them himself. He clearly holds that God gave the Law through Moses (1:17). Because he believes that Moses wrote of Jesus (1:45; 5:39, 46), he might be somewhat patient in his own way with the expression “disciples of Moses.” From a quite special point of view he would even agree that Scripture (ηJ γραϕηv, not oJ νovµoς) has about it an imperative quality (cf. 7:23 with, for example, 20:9).154 He may be less patient with the condemnation of the People of the Land; he clearly does not believe that life is to be found by studying the Scriptures; and he stands strongly opposed to affirmations of ascent, the granting of heavenly visions, and divine commissioning for anyone except Jesus. In these seven points alone, therefore, we already see both agreement and tension. 2. Moses and the Messiah The tension warms into debate at several points, two of which call for special attention. We have already noted one of these, the Jewish claims that Moses himself ascended on Sinai and was granted visions, and the Johannine polemic directed toward these claims. We shall take account of this matter in the final chapter. The other point emerges when the discussion between John’s church and the synagogue focuses not on affirmations or claims made about Moses himself, but rather on the relationship between Moses and the Messiah. Here, therefore, we must listen with special care. When we do so, we discover that this part of the conversation ranges over three central affirmations, the first two of which appear to be held in common by John’s church and the synagogue: a. In the Pentateuch Moses wrote of an eschatological figure whose coming is joyfully to be expected. Philip found Nathanael, and said to him, “We have found him of whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote.” (1:45)

From the context in which this affirmation is made we learn that John believes this figure to be the Messiah (1:41; see also 5:46). b. One of Moses’ acts is to be understood as a typological prophecy of this coming eschatological figure. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so also must the Son of Man be lifted up. (3:14) 154. As we shall see below, John provides us with data which make it possible to speak about the specific hermeneutic which he applies to the Old Testament.

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There is a formula for the relationship between Moses’ act and an act done to the Coming One: “just as . . . so also.” c. For that reason, one may judge the authorization of a messianic or prophetic claimant by determining whether he “measures up” to Moses. So they said to him, “Then what sign do you do, that we may see, and believe you? What work do you perform? Our fathers ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’” (6:30 f.)

Of course such measuring requires midrashic competence on the part of the ones making the judgment. But granted that competence, they may search the Scriptures to see whether a claimant meets the requirements of the typology: They replied, “Are you from Galilee too? Search and you will see that the Prophet is not to rise from Galilee.” (7:52)155

The first two affirmations, as I said above, appear to be made by both parties to the conversation. It is the line which runs from the second to the third which reveals to us one of the major “rubs” between the conversation partners. Some kind of typological relationship between Moses and the Messiah is accepted by both parties. Just how this relationship is to be viewed is another question, and it is that question which now invites our attention. Before we delve more deeply into the Johannine text (sections 4 and 5 below), however, we ought to consider briefly the data given us in Jewish literature regarding Moses as a type either of the Messiah or of some other eschatological figure. Indeed the related question whether Moses is a type for the Prophet (John 6:14) or for the Messiah (John 7:31, 41; cf. Acts 3:17–26; 7:35 ff.) must be kept in mind. 3. Jewish Hopes for the Prophet or the Messiah like Moses By selecting eight brief texts from Jewish sources we can learn a great deal about the strands of eschatological hope gathered around Moses as a type of the coming redeemer.156 a. Moses speaks to Israel: “The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet like me (ynimOK/; ωJς εjµεv), from among you, from your brethren; to him you shall listen (˜W[m;v]Ti wyl;a/e αυjτoυ` αjκoυvσεσθε).” (Deut. 18:15) 155. I follow the reading of p66 which has the article. See note 175 below. 156. Cf. the very helpful appendix in Hahn, Hoheitstitel, 351–404; also H. M. Teeple, The Mosaic Eschatological Prophet (1957), and T. F. Glasson, Moses in the Fourth Gospel (1963), but especially chaps. 2–6 in W. A. Meeks, The Prophet-King, a model of careful research.

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For God had said to Moses: “I will raise up for them a prophet like you (˚;wOmK;/ω{σπερ σεv) from among their brethren, and will put my words in his mouth, and he shall speak to them all that I command him.” (Deut.18:18)

However simply these verses may have been understood by their author,157 they were destined to bear much fruit in later Jewish interpretation. In the postexilic time, we may recall, the line of prophets came to a close. In this period one hears the sad words: b. “We do not see our signs (LXX σηµει`α); there is no longer any prophet, and there is none among us who knows how long.” (Ps. 74:9) Israel longed for a prophet not only because of generally dark times, but also because of specific problems. For example, in the Maccabean revolt the altar in Jerusalem was defiled with swine’s blood. Upon taking the city, Judas was confronted with a difficult question. The stones of the altar were holy; yet they had been profaned. What should be done with them? c. And they pulled down the altar, and laid up the stones until there should come a prophet to give an answer concerning them. (1 Macc. 4:46; cf. 14:41) Here we find, indeed, not only a longing but also a definite expectation. It is only a short step to a specifically eschatological interpretation of Deuteronomy 18:15, 18, and that step was taken prior to the first century C.E. Among the scrolls of the Qumran community we now find two references which would seem to show the hope for a (the) prophet like Moses who is a definite eschatological figure distinct from the Messiah(s): d. They [the members of the community] shall be judged by the first regulations in which in the beginning the men of the community were instructed until the coming of a prophet and the Messiahs of Aaron and Israel. (1QS 9:10 f.) One is reminded of 1 Maccabees 4:46. It is confidently expected that a definite prophet shall come. That he is to be the Prophet like Moses is suggested in a remarkable collection of Old Testament quotations which would seem to attest the expectation of the same three eschatological figures mentioned in 1QS 9:10 f.: 157. See, e.g., G. von Rad, Old Testament Theology (1962–65), vol. 1, 99, 294 f.

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e. Exodus 20:21 (behind which stand Deut. 5:28 f. and 18:18 f.) referring to the Mosaic Prophet; Numbers 24:15–17, referring to the Star of Jacob ( = the Messiah of Israel); Deuteronomy 33:8–11, referring to the Priestly Messiah ( = the Messiah of Aaron). (4Q Testimonia)158 Still other documents tell us that, however varied it may have been, there was a fairly widespread hope in Jewish thought of the first century for a figure whom we may accurately call the Prophet like Moses. Indeed, while it appears that for Qumran the Prophet is to be distinguished from the Messiah (or Messiahs), we must also recognize that in some circles the two figures coalesced to one degree or another. f. The Samaritans, by rendering the Jewish Ten Commandments in nine parts, made room for a distinctly Samaritan tenth commandment which in its first part states “the vital dogmatic difference between Jews and Samaritans,”159 the absolute sanctity of Mount Gerizim. A second part of their tenth commandment is, however, equally important. It includes the interpolation of Deuteronomy 18:15, 18. By granting to this promise so central a place, the Samaritans stated not only their claim for Mount Gerizim, but also their hope for a Redeemer like Moses (or perhaps, better expressed, Moses redivivus) whom they called the Taheb. Thus Gaster remarks: Just as Moses brought the Law, so will the Taheb bring, as it were, the Law to the world, and just as the Israelites in the wilderness accepted it unquestioningly, so will they accept this text without further questioning.160

Just how the Samaritans of John’s day formulated this Moses-Messiah typology we cannot say.161 We can say that they did so in dependence on Deuteron-

158. J. M. Allegro, “Further Messianic References in Qumran Literature,” JBL 75 (1956), 174–87, speaks of this as “Document IV.” It contains four quotations arranged without intervening comments or formulae: the three canonical passages cited above and a quotation from another Qumran document, 4Q Psalms of Joshua. See J. A. Fitzmyer, “‘4Q Testimonia’ and the New Testament,” Theological Studies 18/4 (1967), 513–37, and P. W. Skehan, “The Period of the Biblical Texts from Khirbet Qumran,” CBQ 19 (1957), 435–40. That the texts are given in canonical order would not seem to exclude an interpretation linking them to three figures. 159. Moses Gaster, The Samaritans (1925), 185. 160. M. Gaster, The Samaritan Oral Law and Ancient Traditions (1932), vol. 1, 225. Cf. P. Volz, Eschatologie, 62; Bousset and Gressmann, Religion, 224 ff. 161. Note J. Jeremias’s warning regarding Gaster’s failure to give sufficient attention to the dates of his sources, ThWNT, vol. 4, 867, n. 180. See now the work of J. Macdonald, The Theology of the Samaritans (1964), which is itself not entirely reliable, as W. Meeks shows in The ProphetKing, 216–57 passim. Meeks’s treatment of the Samaritan traditions about Moses is quite illuminating, and may indicate that the statement I have made in the text is somewhat overly pessimistic.

From the Expectation of the Prophet-Messiah like Moses . . .

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omy 18:15, 18.162 The Samaritan Redeemer would repeat the great deeds of Moses, that is, he would perform Mosaic signs.163 We may complete this brief statement by referring to the rabbinic data. Here the basic point to note is the maintenance of an ancient pattern which results from superimposing two (or all three) of the following: Time of Creation Time of Redemption (Exodus from Egypt) Time of the End164 g. The earliest rabbinic passage explicitly referring to the Moses typology is attributed reliably to Rabbi Akiba (active C.E. 90–135). How long do the days of the Messiah last? Rabbi Akiba said: Forty years. Just as the Israelites spent forty years in the wilderness, so will he [the Messiah] draw them forth and cause them to go in the wilderness and will make them eat leaves and straw. (Tanchuma ‘Ekeb 7)165

And, while it is from a later date, a second reference is probably to be taken with equal seriousness. h. Rabbi Berekiah said in the name of Rabbi Isaac: As the first redeemer was, so shall the latter Redeemer be. What is stated of the former redeemer? And Moses took his wife and his sons, and set them upon an ass (Ex. IV, 20). Similarly will it be with the latter Redeemer, as it is stated, Lowly and riding upon an ass (Zech. IX, 9). As the former redeemer caused manna to descend, as it is stated, Behold, I will cause to rain bread from heaven for you (Ex. XVI, 4), so will the latter Redeemer cause manna to descend, as it is stated. May he be as a rich cornfield in the land (Ps. LXXII, 16). As the former redeemer made a well to rise, so will the latter Redeemer bring up water, as it is stated, And a fountain shall come forth of the house of the Lord, and shall water the valley of Shittim. (Joel IV, 18) (Qoheleth Rabba 1, 8)166

Here the Moses-Messiah typology is set out in full clarity. While Rabbi Isaac (ca. 300 C.E.) does not cite Deuteronomy 18:15, 18, we are probably correct in 162. Also Num. 24:17 (Macdonald, The Theology of the Samaritans, 363). Cf. 4Q Testimonia cited above! 163. Gaster, The Samaritans, 91. 164. Most clearly thought through by 2 Isaiah. See the excellent treatment in von Rad, Old Testament Theology (1962–65), vol. 2, 238 ff. 165. Jeremias, ThWNT, vol. 4, 865. Cf. Moore, Judaism, vol. 2, 375 f. 166. H. Freedman and M. Simon, eds., Midrash Rabba, 9 vols. (1939); Ecclesiastes is translated by A. Cohen, and the reference above is found on p. 33 of volume 82. Note that the expression “will . . . bring up water” renders the Hi’phil of hl[, i.e., “shall cause waters to gush forth.” Cf. John 7:38.

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viewing his words as the full flowering of the influence which that passage exerted on Jewish thought in the first centuries of the common era. Now we may gather the threads together. What do these eight references tell us? 1. While Deuteronomy 18:15, 18, was understood by the Deuteronomist to be a promise referring to an inexhaustable line of prophets rather than to an individual eschatological figure, it was interpreted in the latter way by various Jewish and Samaritan groups prior to the Christian era. 2. The oldest form of this interpretation appears to have referred the prophecy not to the Messiah, but rather to the Prophet like Moses. In the Qumran scrolls the Mosaic Prophet is apparently expected as a figure distinct from the Messiah(s). 3. However, both among Samaritans and among the rabbis a second step was taken. The Deuteronomic promise was understood to refer to the Messiah (or Taheb). We may call this a hope not for the Mosaic Prophet, but for the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah. There were, doubtless, a number of means at hand for expressing this hope. The most explicit was some such formula as JK; . . . K] which is well grasped in Greek by the pattern καθω;ς . . . oυ{τως, “Just as . . . so also.”167 4. In time—just how early is difficult to say—this typology acquired a certain degree of sophistication which we find in the second rabbinic quotation (Qoheleth Rabba 1, 8). The Moses-Messiah typology is there related to three specific signs: like Moses, the Messiah will ride upon a donkey, cause manna to descend, and cause waters to gush forth. While the rabbinic passages do not explicitly say so, it is easily imagined that the definite and sophisticated pattern expressed there could be used to measure possible claimants to the “office” of Mosaic Prophet-Messiah. 4. Opinions among Synagogue Members in John’s City From this sketch one returns to the data in John’s Gospel with new eyes. First of all, the problem which we brought with us from our preceding chapter—How can it be thought that Jesus’ signs witness to his messiahship?—is placed in a new light. While it is true that the Davidic Messiah was not expected to perform signs, that is precisely what was expected of the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah. Indeed it may not be entirely accidental that John’s is the only gospel which shows Jesus performing all three of the Mosaic signs mentioned in Qoheleth 167. The comparative expression in the text of Deuteronomy itself is ynImoK; which the LXX renders ωJς εjµε;. The rabbinic expressions are (1) JK; . . . K], (2) JK; . . . hmæ, (3) πaæ . . . hmæ, all of which would be well rendered by καθω;ς . . . oυ{τως or something similar. See Jastrow, Dictionary.

From the Expectation of the Prophet-Messiah like Moses . . .

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Rabba: he feeds the multitude (6:1–14); he quenches thirst (7:37 f.; cf. 4:13); he rides on a donkey (2:14).168 When we look at some of these references with care, we will have occasion to note John’s distrust of the Moses-Messiah typology. For the moment it is enough to see that the middle term between the issues of Jesus’ messiahship and the issue of correctly interpreting his signs may prove to be the step of identifying him as the Mosaic Prophet. We must now see whether that is, in fact, the case. It would be foolish, of course, to claim a direct relationship between any of the Jewish sources we have briefly catalogued and the Jewish community in John’s city. Whether some members of that community were formerly Essenes of the type known to us from the Qumran scrolls cannot be said.169 Whether in John’s city there were flesh-and-blood Samaritans we cannot say with certainty, although it is quite possible that John 4 reflects the remarkable success of the Christian mission among Samaritans known to John.170 What can be said is that in the Johannine synagogue there were many who knew well some form of the hope for the Prophet-Messiah like Moses who would perform signs. Indeed, we may proceed with reasonable probability to catalogue several shades of opinion in this regard. a. Rank-and-File Members There are six passages which seem to reflect at least in part the reactions of the common folk in the synagogue to the Johannine presentation of Jesus’ signs.171 168. I have said only that this congruence may not be entirely accidental, and the reasons for my reserve are obvious: the first and third of these signs were traditional in Christian circles very early. Furthermore Jesus’ riding on the donkey does not seem to be understood by any of our evangelists as a Mosaic sign. It is worth saying, nevertheless, that only in John’s Gospel would a reader looking for the three signs of Qoheleth Rabba find them. John is also alone in explicitly interpreting the feeding as the repetition of the manna miracle and therefore as a transparent witness to Jesus as the Mosaic Prophet. 169. The questions usually asked are: Was John a former member of the Qumran sect? Does his work show direct literary dependence on Qumran literature? Or is there only a shared conceptual milieu? See the balanced treatment by Brown, John, lxii ff. If the line of argument we are following is correct, one must also ask whether there is some relationship between the thought patterns evident in the Jewish community of John’s city and the thought patterns of Qumran. Cf. the essays collected in J. H. Charlesworth (ed.), John and Qumran (1972). 170. See H. Leroy, Rätsel und Missverständnis (1968), 92 ff. 171. Here, as elsewhere in the present work, I have made a selection of the data to be presented. Through chap. 4 the criteria for that selective process were supplied by the literary observations that the dramatic sequences in John 9 and in John 5 and 7 correspond remarkably to the two prophecies made in John 16:2. These literary observations have led, in turn, to the positing of hypotheses regarding the Gospel’s historical setting, and these hypotheses themselves now provide us with the major criteria for the selection of further data.

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Three of them show the hope for the Mosaic Prophet; three point to the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah: 6:14: This verse may have stood in a pre-Johannine source as the climax of the feeding of the five thousand. The crowd understands this sign to be the repetition of the manna miracle of Moses: “When the people saw the sign which he had done, they said, ‘This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.’” 7:40: It is scarcely chance that the second explicit confession of Jesus as the Mosaic Prophet comes on the heels of what is probably a reference to the water miracle of Moses: “Jesus stood up and proclaimed, ‘. . . He who believes in me, as the scripture has said, “Out of his heart shall flow rivers of living water.”’ . . . When they heard these words, some of the people said, ‘This is really the prophet.’” 9:16 f.: This passage is by now familiar to us. The issue is how to interpret Jesus’ sign of restoring the blind man’s sight. Various opinions are offered: “Some of the Pharisees said, ‘This man is not from God, for he does not keep the sabbath.’ But others said, ‘How can a man who is a sinner do such signs?’ There was a division among them. So they again said to the blind man, ‘What do you say about him, since he has opened your eyes?’ He said, ‘He is a prophet.’”172 6:15: This verse may be John’s addition to the traditional material in verse 14. It clearly bears theological weight in his picture (see below). Nevertheless it may also reflect the view of certain persons in the synagogue who proceeded beyond identifying Jesus as the Mosaic Prophet to the opinion that he is the Prophet-Messiah: “Perceiving then that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king . . .” 7:31: Interpreters are commonly perplexed by this verse, for, as we have already emphasized, it is not characteristic of Jewish expectations of the Davidic Messiah that he should be a wonder-worker.173 The problem is largely 172. Two factors may weaken the case for taking this passage as a reference to the Mosaic Prophet: the absence of the definite article and the fact that the sign is a miracle of healing. However, the absence of the definite article before the word “prophet” is by no means an infallible signal that the reference is to be taken in a general sense. See Hahn, Titles, ad rem. And although we have no indication that Jews expected the Mosaic Prophet to be a healer, we cannot exclude that possibility. We do know that Elijah was reverenced not only as Israel’s heavenly helper, but also as one who flew to earth to defend the righteous, to comfort the discouraged, and to heal the sick (Jeremias, ThWNT, vol. 2, 932 f.). While Hahn is right to treat separately the hopes for the Mosaic Prophet and for a returning Elijah, we cannot assume such scientific precision on the part of firstcentury Jews, as Hahn himself realizes (354). The possibility must be considered that in John’s milieu the figure of the Mosaic Prophet has certain characteristics drawn from the hopes for the coming of Elijah. See Martyn, “We Have Found Elijah.” 173. See the generally unconvincing attempts of Dodd, Interpretation, 89 f., and Bultmann, Johannes, 231, n. 5. Barrett, in his generally excellent commentary, passes by the main problem of the verse.

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solved if we recognize the equation of the wonder-working Prophet with the Messiah: “Yet many of the people believed in him; they said, ‘When the Christ appears, will he do more signs than this man has done?’” 7:40 ff.: Here we find essentially the same order of things as in 6:14–15. Interpreters often point to 7:40–41 as evidence that in John’s Gospel the figures of the Mosaic Prophet and the Messiah are carefully distinguished from one another. In light of what we have seen, it is more likely that the passage reflects the easy modulation from the Mosaic Prophet to the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah. Reading 7:40–43, one may see the following steps: (a) some say that Jesus’ sign (the water miracle) shows him to be the Mosaic Prophet. (b) Others go further and conclude that he is the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah. (c) Still others say that the messianic conclusion cannot be drawn merely on the basis of the sign, since another factor must be taken into account: Messiah is descended from David and comes from Bethlehem. For the moment, step c does not concern us. The important point consists of the two confessions: Jesus is the Mosaic Prophet, Jesus is the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah. For the most part one sees in these six references an unsophisticated, enthusiastic, and genuine response to Jesus’ signs. These common folk are not technically trained theologians. They are rank-and-file Jews who, upon learning of Jesus’ signs, immediately and uncritically view him as the Mosaic Prophet or Prophet-Messiah. They do so because of the pattern of thought we saw reflected in various Jewish sources; the problem which we have termed “the wonderworking Messiah” is for them no problem at all because of the typology which views the Mosaic Prophet as the middle term between Moses and the Messiah. b. The Jamnia Loyalists When we see them in this light, the Jamnia Loyalists who dominate the Gerousia are not only reacting to the Jewish-Christian threat by taking the disciplinary measures connected with excommunication and the beguiler charge. They are also taking a corresponding stance with regard to the theological question: Is Jesus the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah? 6:30 f.: If we recall the sophisticated kind of typology expressed in Qoheleth Rabba (107 f., above), we are not surprised to hear the demand being laid on Jesus that he prove his suitability for the “office” of Mosaic Prophet-Messiah. What sign do you do, that we may see and believe you? What work do you perform? Our fathers ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, “He gave them bread from Heaven to eat.”174 174. Those who speak are identified only as “the crowd.” However, their expertise in midrash and the similarity between their argument and that of the Jamnia Loyalists in 7:52 (see below) lead one to conclude that in chap. 6 John portrays Jesus in conversation with that group.

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7:40 ff.: See the reference to this passage above. In the series designated a, b, and c, it is evidently the Jamnia Loyalists, or laymen under their influence, who cite the Scripture requirements of Davidic descent and Bethlehem birth as factors which preclude identifying Jesus as the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah. That is to say, they cite requirements for Davidic messiahship against a figure whom some are inclined to identify as the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah. 7:48, 52: We are here directly in touch with the Jamnia Loyalists. They interrogate their unsuccessful Hazzanim: “Have any of the authorities or of the Pharisees believed in him? And don’t cite to us the opinion of the common folk who are incompetent in midrash!”

Furthermore they demand of Nicodemus: “Search the scriptures and you will see that the Prophet is not to rise from Galilee.”175

9:28ff.: Finally, it is they who constitute the negative side of the schism in the Gerousia over the issue of how the sign performed on the blind man is to be interpreted. Jesus is not the Prophet. Those who confess him as such (v. 17) have ceased to be disciples of Moses: “You are his disciple. We are disciples of Moses. We know that God spoke to Moses, but as for this man, we don’t know where he comes from.”

What we find in these four references is the opinion of technically trained theologians. Their stance may be summarized in four points: (1) They affirm the Moses–Prophet/Messiah typology. It is part of their theological system. (2) But they deny that Jesus meets the requirements of this typology. (3) They insist that the question involved is a midrashic one, and (4) for that reason only scholars properly trained in midrash are competent to reach an authoritative conclusion. As we shall shortly see, the importance of the third and fourth points can scarcely be overemphasized. c. The Secret Believers For obvious reasons members of this last group are more elusive than are the Jamnia Loyalists. But if we are correct in identifying Nicodemus as their representative, it is not impossible to suggest some lines characteristic of their thought: 175. Following the reading of p66 which is almost certainly the earlier text at this point. See E. R. Smothers, “Two Readings in Papyrus Bodmer II,” HTR 51 (1958), 109–11, and B. M. Metzger, The Text of the New Testament (1964), 40; contrast The Greek New Testament, eds. Aland, Black, Metzger, and Wikgren (1966), where the reading of p66 is not mentioned. The Mosaic Prophet is to come, of course, not from Galilee, but from the wilderness.

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12:42: In some sense they believe, but because of the dreaded threat of excommunication from the synagogue they do not openly confess their faith. 3:2: Nicodemus may represent both their faith and their fear when he secretly comes at night to examine the church’s witness (N.B. 3:11 with its plural pronouns and verbs). The possibility that their secret faith is closely bound up with the hope for the Prophet like Moses is suggested by Nicodemus’s somewhat cryptic confession. It may be a guarded reference to that figure: “We know that as teacher you have come from God; for no one can do these signs which you do unless God is with him.”

It is on the basis of signs, the key characteristic of the Mosaic Prophet, that Nicodemus reaches his conclusion. To be sure, he uses the term “teacher” rather than “prophet.” However, the Mosaic Prophet was expected not only as a wonder-worker but also as an authoritative teacher.176 Moreover, and this is quite important, we may recall that when the Jamnia Loyalists rebuke Nicodemus, they do so in connection with the hope for the Prophet. 7:52: Indeed, they attribute to Nicodemus, without his objection, the opinion that Jesus is the Mosaic Prophet. The issue is whether his opinion can be midrashically defended: “Search the scriptures and see that the Prophet is not to rise from Galilee.”

From this verse one returns to the dialogue between Nicodemus and Jesus with the possibility in mind that Nicodemus’s remarks are designed to secure data sufficient to mount a midrashic defense of his secret (and, to be sure, embryonic) faith. His opening statement may be, in effect, an invitation to a midrashic discussion of the implications of Jesus’ signs; that is, it may be a plea that Jesus provide further support which could be used by Nicodemus in a public defense of the view that Jesus is the Mosaic Prophet. The group of secret believers represented by Nicodemus agrees, therefore, with the Jamnia Loyalists that the issue of Jesus’ possible identification as the Prophet is fundamentally midrashic in nature. They should like, however, to avoid the choice posed by the Loyalists in 176. This very important facet of the hope for the Prophet finds its root, of course, in Moses’ role as teacher and explicitly in the words of Deut. 18:15, “The Lord God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among you, from your brethren; to him you shall listen” (cf. John 10:20). The Qumran sect’s “Teacher of Righteousness” may have been closely related to the Mosaic Prophet at some point in the history of the sect’s thought (CD 6, 11). Similarly the Samaritans expected the Taheb as Mosaic Prophet and Teacher. Cf. also G. Bornkamm, “Der Paraklet im Johannesevangelium,” 12–35, in Festschrift Rudolf Bultmann (1949), especially 20, where Bornkamm remarks, “Die Vorstellung vom Messias als zweiten Moses bzw. als Prophet . . . scheint mir im Sinne von Dt. 18, 15.18 auch hinter dem Bekenntnis des Nikodemus zu stehen, Jesus sei ein von Gott gekommener Lehrer.”

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9:28; they should like to be disciples of Jesus who are able convincingly to quote Moses in support of that discipleship. Apparently, therefore, we are able to identify with reasonable probability three attitudes represented in the Johannine synagogue. Bearing in mind the history of inner-synagogue discipline outlined above (69 ff.), we may suggest that the order of events with regard to the identification of Jesus as the Prophet was something like this: 1. In the theological treasury of the Jewish community in John’s city was the hope for the Mosaic Prophet. Alongside it, or developing from it, was the expectation of the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah. In both instances a typology was presupposed like the ones we have seen in the Scrolls, the Samaritan sources, and rabbinic literature. 2. In the latter half of the first century some Christian Jews came into this community and persuaded a number of the synagogue members that Jesus was the Prophet-Messiah like Moses. One of these Christian Jews may have penned a collection of Jesus’ signs to aid in the evangelistic effort. Among common members of the Jewish community—were they already influenced by followers of John the Baptist?177—such evangelization enjoyed considerable success, resulting in the emergence of an inner-synagogue group of Christian Jews. Such success, however, brought official resistance. We have already explored the disciplinary measures introduced by the Jamnia Loyalists. They also mounted a theological attack, declaring the issue of Jesus’ identification to be thoroughly midrashic and therefore off-limits to nontheologians. 3. These developments seem to have caused John to feel that the theology characteristic of his group during that early period was in certain regards inadequate for the new setting.178 From the point of view of the evangelist a crucial matter is the question of how one is to respond to the secret believers among the theologians. These people, we may recall, are afraid to confess their faith in Jesus as the Prophet-Messiah unless they are assured of convincing midrashic grounds for defense. For they quite naturally agree with the Jamnia Loyalists that the issue must be settled by exegesis. Unless they can defend their secret faith on the basis of midrash, they feel they must choose between hiding their faith and being excommunicated.

177. D. Moody Smith has recently revived and ably defended Bultmann’s theory that the hypothetical Signs Source was directed to disciples of John the Baptist. See his article cited above in note 138. 178. I have attempted a more complete picture of developments which seem to have taken place between the writing of the Signs Source and the authoring of the Gospel in “Source Criticism and Religionsgeschichte in the Fourth Gospel,” D. G. Miller and D. Y. Hadidian (eds.), Jesus and Man’s Hope (1970), 1, 247–73; cf. also “Glimpses into the History of the Johannine Community,” 145–67 in this volume.

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5. John’s Own Stance with Regard to the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah At this juncture it will be helpful to consider the two major alternatives open to John. Confronted with conversation partners most of whom explicitly understand the issue to be midrashic in nature, he will probably have considered the possibility of accompanying them into the exegetical arena. By so doing he might convince larger numbers of the common folk, and he would provide the secret believers with what they understand to be their major need: powerful midrashic demonstration that Jesus fulfills the hope for the Prophet-Messiah like Moses. In an uncritical, unsophisticated way, that is apparently what his predecessor, the author of the Signs Gospel, did. In another locale it was the alternative selected by Matthew. And further removed, it was the route chosen by Justin. From the Qumran testimonia through early Christian collections of Old Testament texts to Justin and beyond, there stretches a line of thought which accepts the burden of providing midrashic proof for messianic affirmations. This option was certainly open to John. At the other extreme, he may have been aware of the possibility of abandoning altogether the christological implications of the Mosaic Prophet. It is perfectly obvious that a typological relationship between Moses and the Messiah was not viewed by every early Christian theologian as a necessary way of describing Jesus. Failure on John’s part to enter the midrashic arena would probably close an important area of contact with members of the synagogue, but it is clear that the range of christological materials known to John was rich indeed. Other avenues less exegetically problematic could have been pursued. Here we are struck by the remarkable polarity of John’s thought.179 Recall the technical formulae characteristic of the Moses-Prophet/Messiah typology: JK; . . . K], etc. καθω;ς . . . oυ{τως, etc.

And then notice two references which come, we may be sure, from John’s own hand: 3:14 Just as (καθω; ς) Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so (oυ{τως) must the Son of Man be lifted up. 6:58: This is the bread which came down from heaven, not just as (oυj καθω;ς) the fathers ate and died.

The first of these occurs in Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus, and, with minor reservations, we are bound to recognize it as the typological formula we 179. Cf. C. K. Barrett, “The Dialectical Theology of St. John,” 49–69, in New Testament Essays (1972).

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have already studied. The reservations arise, of course, from the fact that instead of presenting Moses as a type for the prophet, it views an act of Moses as a type for an act which will be done to the Son of Man. Clearly John is very much at work here. We will shortly be concerned to explore the finer nuances of his stance. The point is that in 3:14 John employs the typological formula καθω;ς . . . oυ{τως in a straightforward and positive statement about Moses and in the context of a discussion between two parties, one of whom is apparently seeking further data about the Moses-Messiah typology. The other reference (6:58) stands as part of the discussion relating to the manna miracle of Moses, and it is just as clearly the negation of the typological formula: “not just as. . . .” Taken together, these two references define a problem with which we must wrestle. Where does John himself stand with regard to the Moses–Prophet/Messiah issue? We must first of all entertain the possibility that his stance is somewhat flexible, that is to say that he expresses himself somewhat differently from time to time, depending on whether he has in view the laymen in the synagogue, the Jamnia Loyalists, or the secret believers, not to mention members of his own church. a. John affirms that Jesus is the Prophet. There are several indications that in some sense—which will become clearer as we proceed—John does affirm the identification of Jesus as the Prophet. The Samaritan woman is allowed to identify Jesus as a prophet (4:19), and in view of the fact that the Samaritans did not reverence the classical prophets, it is probable that the absence of the definite article is insignificant. In John’s view she may be expressing an embryonic faith in Jesus as the Prophet. Further along she says, I know that Messiah is coming (he who is called Christ); when he comes, he will show us all things. (4:25)

Odeberg has suggested that the text originally meant: I know that the Taheb is coming, he who is called Messiah.180

To this statement Jesus replies quite directly, I who speak to you am he.

We have already noted the clear and explicit way in which John’s story of the miraculous feeding presents Jesus as the Mosaic Prophet (6:4, 14). And, 180. H. Odeberg, The Fourth Gospel (1929), 187; Bultmann, Johannes, 141, n. 5., renders his hypothetical signs source, “I know that the Taheb is coming, he who is called (by you Jews) the Messiah.”

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finally, we may recall that John allows the formerly blind man to confess Jesus as a (the) prophet (9:17). Obviously, however, John is not formulating a concerted argument designed to show that Jesus is the Prophet. The finer nuances of his stance emerge as we realize that b. John denies to the Moses/Messiah typology dogmatic force. Consider once more Jesus’ dialogue with Nicodemus.181 I have already suggested that to a degree the dialogue reflects the quest on the part of secret believers in the synagogue for midrashic data sufficient to mount a defense of their faith. What is John’s response? Notice how he handles Nicodemus’s part of the conversation. It has often been said that Nicodemus is merely a foil who serves to set John’s theology (expressed by Jesus) in bold relief. That is right as far as it goes, but the transitions from Nicodemus’s remarks to those of Jesus show that there is more involved. For the transitions show a movement from Nicodemus’s desire for midrashic discussion to Jesus’ insistence on what may be called the dualism of election:182 1. An invitation to midrashic discussion: “Rabbi, we know . . . these signs . . .” (3:2). The issue cannot be understood as a need for further midrash. The question is that of election: “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born anew, he cannot see the kingdom of God” (3:3). 2. Nicodemus wants to handle the question of rebirth in a rational manner: “How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?” (3:4). Jesus restates the issue as that of election: “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the 181. The separation of tradition from redaction in John 3 is extraordinarily difficult. I can say only that the elements with which we are presently concerned are, in the form in which they stand, very probably the work of the evangelist. See K. Tsuchido, “The Composition of the Nicodemus Episode, John 2:23–3:21,” Annual of the Japanese Biblical Institute 1 (1975), 91–103. The Nicodemus texts of John 3 constitute one of the points of contact between the Fourth Gospel and the “Secret Gospel of Mark,” and were one convinced that the former is literarily dependent on the latter—or on a form of tradition accurately reflected in the latter—the task of separating tradition from redaction in those texts would be somewhat facilitated. But the case for such an assumption is quite problematic. See Morton Smith, Clement of Alexandria and a Secret Gospel of Mark (1973), ad rem, and R. E. Brown, “The Relation of ‘The Secret Gospel of Mark’ to the Fourth Gospel,” CBQ 36 (1974), 466–85. 182. Cf. J. H. Charlesworth, “A Critical Comparison of the Dualism in 1QS 3:13–4:26 and the ‘Dualism’ Contained in the Gospel of John,” Charlesworth (ed.), John and Qumran (1972), 76–106; and especially the keen observations of J. Becker, “Beobachtungen zum Dualismus im Johannesevangelium,” ZNW 65 (1974), 71–87.

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kingdom of God.” Then he states the dualism which means, among other things, that midrashic discussion lies within the realm of human possibility and can never in itself lead beyond that realm: “That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit” (3:5). 3. Nicodemus continues to ask the “how” question: “How can this be?” (3:9). In Jesus’ reply the awesome dualism is concretized in the division of synagogue and church: “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand this? Truly, truly, I say to you, we [in the separated church] speak of what we know, and bear witness to what we have seen, but you [in the synagogue] do not receive our testimony” (3:10 f.). The same pattern of transition lies before us in John 6. We will look at it carefully in a moment. But first I want to mention another example which can be treated quite briefly. It is a clear instance of the evangelist’s choosing to reinterpret old Christian tradition in light of the plea for midrashic discussion which he hears from Jews in his own city. 7:15: “The Jews were offended at it [Jesus’ teaching], saying, ‘How is it that this man has learning, when he has never studied?’”183 (cf. Mark 1:22; 6:2 ff.). The Jamnia Loyalists, in whose mouth John evidently places this sarcastic question (note 7:26), consider Jesus to be one of the Am Ha’arets; certainly he did not study in a rabbinical school. How can he be an authority in midrash? 7:16 f.: Jesus’ reply says forcefully that the issue is not midrashic, but rather one of decision dualism: “My teaching is not mine, but his who sent me; if any man’s will is to do God’s will, he will know in the moment of that decision (not via midrashic tests) whether the teaching is from God, or whether I speak on my own authority” (my paraphrase). This instance of the transition pattern is so important as to call for special comment. A rabbi does not speak on his own authority. He could, therefore, utter both the first and the last parts of Jesus’ saying: “My teaching is not mine. . . . I do not speak on my own authority.” The rabbi speaks, of course, on the authority of Moses. The force which his own words have, therefore, derives from his ability—gained from long study—correctly to interpret the writings of Moses. It is clear that Jesus does not possess this kind of authority. Between the first and last parts of Jesus’ saying lie words which emphatically exclaim: The criterion of midrashic accuracy is wholly inapplicable to my teaching. The issue 183. Bultmann and others are probably correct in taking θαυµαvζειν here (and in 7:21) to mean “be offended at” rather than “marvel at.”

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is not midrashic, as both the Jamnia Loyalists and the secret believers suppose it to be. It is a decision of the will in the electing presence of God’s emissary. One is not wholly surprised, then, to find that c. John even formulates a negative Moses-Messiah typology in order to accent the motif of election in such a way as to show that the messianic question is not midrashic in nature. Here we must be especially careful to honor the sweep of John’s thought in his treatment of the miraculous feeding sign. John 6 comes on the heels of the critical sermon in 5:19–47 which is designed (in part) to show the synagogue how the separated Jewish Christians can make a high christological claim for Jesus without abrogating monotheism. This theological concern matches the issue of the beguiler (one who leads others astray into an abrogation of monotheism), and that is the reason, of course, for John’s placing the sermon immediately after 5:18.184 John 6 shows that the evangelist has a related concern in mind, and a careful reading of the chapter will show what this concern is. For the whole of this complex literary piece is framed by the questions which indicate both the theme and some of its implications. They are Jesus’ question to Philip (v. 5): “Whence are we to buy bread so that these people may eat?”185

and Peter’s question to Jesus (v. 68): “Lord, to whom shall we go [for the bread/word of life]”?

The theme of the chapter is “The Origin of Life,” couched in terms of the tension between man’s self-determination of his life and God’s predestination to life. This theme is developed primarily, but not exclusively, with reference to the Eucharist, and in such a way as to make the connection between the Eucharist and predestination unmistakably clear. Basically, it is this connection which is so offensive both to “the Jews” in the synagogue (vv. 41–59) and to “many of the disciples” in the church (vv. 60–71). Before we turn our attention to the specific question of the hope for the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah, it will 184. A full analysis of John 5:19–47 would be appropriate here, but the demands of space preclude it. Notice the probability that v. 21 is an indirect, but for John’s Jewish readers quite plain, reference to the Second Benediction in the Shemoneh Esre (Bauer, Johannes, 85). One of the major intentions of the sermon is “that all may honor the Son, even as they honor the Father” (vv. 22 f.). It is therefore scarcely addressed solely to John’s church. 185. The kernel of the question is, of course, part of the tradition about the feeding of the crowd (Mark 6:37; 8:4 and parallels). But John shows that the initiative lies with Jesus, and by the following editorial comment (v. 6) he indicates the importance of the question.

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be profitable for us to sketch the contents of the chapter in a way which honors this more basic theme. (The reader is asked to scan John 6 before proceeding.) Note first the presence of four traditional elements: the feeding of the multitude (5–14); Jesus walking on the stormy sea (16–21); an argumentative statement regarding the earthly origin of Jesus (42a and b); and Peter’s confession (68–69). The first two of these are combined in synoptic tradition; they may have come to John from a Signs Source. In any case we must carefully determine how John handles these traditional elements and how he forms his own lines of thought. Verses 1–4: In his introduction the evangelist strikes two notes: he informs his reader that a key issue is the interpretation of Jesus’ signs and that the sign about to be narrated is to be interpreted against the background of the Passover. All that ensues is to be seen in light of that feast which celebrated Israel’s redemption from Egypt under the leadership of Moses. Verses 5–15: The traditional story of the feeding of the multitude is then presented as a sign. It is for John a sign in two important ways. First, it corresponds to the manna given through Moses. Jesus is therefore the Mosaic Prophet; John allows him to be explicitly identified as such (v. 14).186 Second, John shows that he understands the feeding as a sign which points to God’s gracious election (a Passover motif). We have already noted Jesus’ question to Philip: “Whence are we to buy bread . . . ?” What is the origin of life? At the conclusion of the story, the same note is struck, but in negative terms: The crowd, having identified Jesus as the Mosaic Prophet, takes the additional step of viewing him as the King-Messiah. But they do this in a special way. They take it into their own hands to make Jesus king and thus show that they intend to preside over the question of the origin of life. John explicitly rejects this move. God elects men through Jesus, that is, gives life through him. Verses 16–21: In the traditional story about Jesus walking on the stormy sea, it is he who comes to his troubled disciples. He is the origin of life (N.B. v. 17). Verses 26–71: With the stage set (via 22–25) for a full discussion of the feeding sign, John begins the dialogue in the Capernaum synagogue. Note the major steps: Continuing the motif struck in verse 15, Jesus perceives that the crowd has not seen the sign. Since they want to preside over the origin of life they are not willing to receive life as a gift (v. 27). Indeed, when Jesus challenges them to believe, they respond in the same vein. They intend to preside over the question by demanding a legitimizing sign. “Then what sign do you do in order that we may see and believe in you? What work do you perform? Our fathers ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’” 186. While v. 14 may have come to John from his source, as suggested above, there is nothing in the narrative to indicate that John rejects this identification.

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It is important to notice that their demand is thoroughly orthodox. If Jesus is the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah as John has clearly implied (6:14), he should repeat the manna miracle according to the Moses-Messiah typology we have already discovered. One might accurately express the typology in these words: καθω; ς Μωυ>ση`ς ε[δωκεν αυjτoι ς` α[ρτoν εjκ τoυ` oυjρανoυ` ϕαγει ν` , oυ{τως δωvσει µεσσι α v ς τo;ν α[ρτoν εjν τω` αιjω`νι τω`/ µεvλλoντι Just as Moses gave them bread from heaven to eat, so also will the Messiah give bread in the coming age.

But Jesus has just repeated this miracle! Clearly a subtle point is being driven home, and it is this: The crowd did not see the sign (6:26). If they had, they would have recognized that as God’s self-authenticating emissary Jesus presides over the issue of the origin of life with complete sovereignty. The point of the sign is not the Moses-Messiah typology but rather God’s gracious election. Therefore Jesus continues with a striking expression in which he places a negative immediately before Moses’ name. “It was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven; my Father gives you the true bread from heaven.” (v. 32, emphasis added)

Here we are in touch with the line of thought most important for our understanding of John’s attitude to the hope for the Mosaic Prophet. We must weigh the words carefully. There is, first of all, a good possibility that in verse 32 John shows knowledge of a special Jewish method of exegesis helpfully illuminated by Peder Borgen. Notice the following elements: 1. The crowd quotes the Old Testament in such a way as to demand the Moses-Messiah typology, and that means, in all likelihood, that they understand Moses to be the subject of the verb “gave.” Moses gave (ε δ[ ωκεν/˜tn) them bread from heaven to eat. 2. Jesus replies: Truly, truly I say to you Not (oυj) Moses gave (δεvδωκεν/ ˜tæn): to you bread from heaven but (αjλλ’) my Father gives (δι vδωσιν/˜tewOn) to you the true bread from heaven.187 187. P. Borgen, “Observations on the Midrashic Character of John 6,” ZNW 54 (1963), 232–40 (cf. 59 ff. in his book Bread from Heaven [1965]). Only in the final analysis do I think Borgen’s suggestions are misleading, as I will indicate in a moment.

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To a certain extent Jesus seems to be correcting the crowd’s reading of the Old Testament quotation: “Not ‘gave,’ but ‘gives.’” Borgen invites us to compare texts such as Mekilta on Exodus 16:15: “Man did eat the bread of strong horses.” (Ps. 78:25) Do not read “of strong horses” but “of the limbs,” that is “bread” that is absorbed by the “limbs.”

The examples which Borgen gives do seem to me to show that in John 6:31 f. the evangelist is employing a midrashic method recognizable as such. They fail, however, to illuminate the main accent of his drama at this point (as Borgen partially realizes in his own way). Jesus is clearly doing much more than correcting the tense of the verb from “gave” to “gives.” The emphatic negative by means of which he introduces his reply stands immediately before the word “Moses.” And the subject of the second line is changed. The “correction” therefore is, “not Moses gave, but my Father gives.” John is strongly contrasting Moses with God! That in itself shows us that the change of the verb tense is much more than a matter of midrash. The father of midrash is left behind, and one is brought face-to-face with the Father. John is not saying to the synagogue,188 “You mis188. It is primarily with respect to the assumptions Borgen makes about John’s addressees and purpose in writing (to refute Christian Docetists) that I find his work—otherwise so helpful—to be unconvincing. See the review in JBL 86 (1967), 244 f. The Johannine Epistles were not written, I think, by the author of the Fourth Gospel (cf. C. H. Dodd’s Moffatt commentary). Nor were they directed to the same situation (cf. H. Conzelmann, “Was von Anfang war,” 194–201, in Neutestamentliche Studien für Rudolf Bultmann [1957]). Contrast also N. A. Dahl, “Der Erstgeborene Satans und der Vater des Teufels,” 70–84 (especially 80 f.), in Apophoreta, Festschrift für Ernst Haenchen (1964). Dahl speculates that Jewish gnostics, expelled from the synagogue through the Birkath haMinim, sought to attach themselves to the church. John is supposed to refer to them as “the Jews who had believed in him.” But note the dependence on data in 1 John (81, n. 39) which is taken to support the thesis that John 6 is antidocetic. I am more inclined to agree with Ernst Käsemann when he says that John himself unconsciously skirted rather close to Docetic thought forms (Testament, 26). But in the final analysis it is essential that we decide whether the Gospel is to be read as an entirely inner-church document. In this regard contrast Käsemann, Testament, a brilliant attempt to locate John’s place in history by asking how his thought is related to other strains in early Christian thinking, with W. A. Meeks The Prophet-King and M. de Jonge, “Jewish Expectations about the ‘Messiah’ according to the Fourth Gospel,” NTS 19 (1972/73), 246–70, which explore the Jewish background of John’s Christology in very helpful ways. As far as I can see, the issue should be formulated in this manner: How are the aspects of the Fourth Gospel which reflect the church-synagogue tension related to the aspects which have primarily to do with inner-church concerns (in some texts ’Ioυδαι o§ ι certainly do represent members of the church)? I do not see that the existence of either set of aspects can be convincingly denied. Recall again John 6:41 (“the Jews then murmured at him . . .”) and John 6:60 (“many of his disciples, when they heard it, said . . .”), not to mention other texts. See Martyn, “Glimpses into the History of the Johannine Community,” 145–67 in this volume; also the studies by G. Richter and R. E. Brown cited above in note 84.

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read the text. You should read it, ‘He gives them bread from heaven to eat.’” Rather he is emphatically saying: 1. “You are wrong in your identification of the type. It was not Moses but rather God who provided the manna.” From this affirmation we may perhaps conclude that for John typological thought must show God to be the subject in both type and antitype, or in neither. 2. “The correspondence between type and antitype is fixed by God in his sovereign freedom.” Thus, the essential line extends not from type to antitype type → antitype but rather from God to both God God ↓ ↓ type ←→ antitype (Just as . . .) (so also . . .) From this it is apparent that one may see a typological relationship only after he has been grasped by God in the second member of it, never before being so grasped.189 3. “The issue is not to be defined as an argument about an ancient text. It is not a midrashic issue. By arguing about texts you seek to evade the present crisis. God is even now giving you the true bread from heaven, and you cannot hide from him in typological speculation or in any other kind of midrashic activity. You must decide now with regard to this present gift of God.” In short, by having Jesus speak in the present tense “. . . my Father gives . . . I am the bread of life”

John allows Jesus paradoxically to employ a form of midrashic discussion in order to terminate all midrashic discussion! Far from being predicated on certain exegetical patterns such as the Moses-Messiah typology, faith has only one essential presupposition: the presence of Jesus and his self-authenticating word, “I am the bread of life.”

189. Cf. D. Bonhoeffer, Ethics (1955), 91 ff.: “What is this penultimate? It is everything that precedes the ultimate, . . . everything which is to be regarded as leading up to the last thing when the last thing has been found. . . . a thing becomes penultimate only through the ultimate” (italics added). In the new edition (1965) see 133 ff.

Chapter 7

. . . TO THE PRESENCE OF THE SON OF MAN

“Do not labor for the food which perishes, but for the food which endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you.” “It was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven; . . . I am the bread of life.”

1. The Two-Level Drama Theologically the boldest step we have seen John take is the “doubling” of Jesus with the figures of Christian witnesses in his own community. Since we are acquainted with Luke’s second volume in which a part of the postresurrection history of the church is narrated, it strikes us that John could have narrated the history of his own church in a direct and straightforward manner. Instead, we find him presenting a two-level drama in which it is not an apostle but rather Jesus himself who ministers to Jews known to John as men who have suffered the fate of excommunication from the synagogue. Jesus also acts the part of the Jewish-Christian preacher who is subjected to arrest and trial as a beguiler. Jesus engages in the debates which John’s church has with the Jewish community regarding his own identity as the Mosaic Messiah. It is also the Risen Lord himself who insists that the messianic issue is not midrashic and who terminates these debates with his awesome use of the numinous-laden “I am.” It is now time for us to face squarely the christological problems which are posed by this two-level drama. At first glance it might seem that the Christology of the drama is a rather “low” one. If the part of Jesus can be acted on the contemporary level by persons in John’s church, then the church’s Lord would scarcely appear to be an unapproachable figure who dwells outside the world of men. On the other hand, one might say that the Christology of the two-level drama, like that of John’s Gospel as a whole, is quite “high,” and that it is precisely the movement from the einmalig level of the drama to its contemporary level which makes it so. Jesus’ identity is not an issue which can be decided by asking who he was. Quite the contrary. He is present, and he makes his presence known by pronouncing an extremely high christological claim: “I am the bread of life . . . come down

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from heaven” (6:35, 38). It may be that our terms “low” and “high” are simply not exegetical with regard to John’s Gospel. As the evangelist expands pieces of einmalig tradition into two-level dramas, he produces what we may call a dynamic christological movement portrayed in a story about (a) Jesus of Nazareth who (b) in John’s own day identifies himself with flesh-and-blood Christian witnesses and yet claims solemnly to be the Son of God. 2. Mosaic Messiah and Son of Man A second line of christological movement closely related to that of the two-level drama emerges when we pursue further than we did in the preceding chapter John’s attitude toward the identification of Jesus as the Mosaic Messiah. We have already seen that John’s stand on this question is neither a simple affirmation of the typology nor a simple denial of it. On the contrary, he has worked out a sophisticated position on this issue, as on others. He evidently considers the identification of Jesus as the Mosaic Messiah to be a legitimate stage in the growth of faith. To be sure, this identification is nothing less than the kiss of death (6:27, 36) if it is employed as a call to midrashic discussion on the basis of which man will decide whether God’s bread of life is present or not. The issue is not a matter of better exegesis but rather of election. On the other hand, John does consider Jesus to be the Mosaic Messiah. Moses wrote of him (5:46; perhaps a reference to Deut. 18:15, 18). Moses’ acts are typological prophecies of Jesus (3:14; 7:38–40). It seems clear that John wants to lead the common folk from a confession of Jesus as the Prophet-Messiah to a faith which he considers more adequate. When we reconsider the data which claimed our attention in the preceding chapter, we see to a certain extent what this more adequate faith is. The church-synagogue conversations which reflect an interest in the figure of the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah have left their mark in a major way on four passages in our Gospel: (1) Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus (3:1 ff.); (2) the miraculous feeding sign and the ensuing dialogue (6:1 ff.); (3) the near-arrest of Jesus as he teaches in the Temple (7:25 ff.); and (4) the drama about the man born blind (9:1 ff).190 When we ask whether there is a pattern of christological movement involving the Prophet, we are struck with data which may be presented in the form of a chart: 190. I leave aside the Samaritan episode (4:4 ff.) which does not reflect discussion with the synagogue. John’s polemic against Jewish claims that Moses himself ascended and was granted visions will emerge as we proceed. For detailed treatment of this subject see Meeks, Prophet-King, 297 ff., and three articles by Meeks, “The Man from Heaven in Johannine Sectarianism,” JBL 91 (1972), 44–72; “‘Am I a Jew?’Johannine Christianity and Judaism,” J. Neusner (ed.), Christianity, Judaism, and Other Greco-Roman Cults (1975), I, 163–86; “The Divine Agent and His Counterfeit in Philo and the Fourth Gospel,” E. S. Fiorenza (ed.), Aspects of Religious Propaganda in Judaism and Early Christianity (1976), 43–67.

126 Jesus as the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah

Major Theological Terms of the Conversation A midrashic discussion of that identification

Jesus as the Son of Man

1. Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus a. “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do, unless God is with him.” (3:2) b. “How can a man be born when he is old? Can he enter a second time into his mother’s womb and be born?” (3:4; cf. 3:9) c. “No one has ascended into heaven but he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man.” (3:13)191 d. “As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, e. So must the Son of Man be lifted up.” (3:14) 2. The miraculous feeding sign and ensuing dialogue a. When the people saw the sign which he had done, they said, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.” (6:14) b. So they said to him, “Then what sign do you do, that we may see, and believe you? What work do you perform? Our fathers ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, He gave them bread from heaven to eat.” (6:30 f.)

191. This verse is surely polemical with respect to claims being made as regards Moses’ ascent and visions (cf. 1:18), and its polemical nature makes the christological movement doubly clear. Cf. S. Schulz, Menschensohn-Christologie, 106, n. 3; W. A. Meeks, The Prophet-King, 122 ff., 156 ff., 241 ff., and especially 297 ff.

. . . To the Presence of the Son of Man Jesus as the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah

A midrashic discussion of that identification

127 Jesus as the Son of Man c. Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. . . . I have come down from heaven. . . . Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.” (6:35, 38, 53; cf. 6:27)192

3. The near-arrest of Jesus as he teaches in the Temple a. Yet many of the people believed in him; they said, “When the Christ appears, will he do more signs than this man has done?” . . . “This is really the prophet.” (7:31, 40) b. They replied, “Are you from Galilee too? Search and you will see that the prophet is not to rise from Galilee.” (7:52; cf. 7:42; 8:13) c. Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world. . . . When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will know that I am he. . . .” (8:12, 28) 4. The drama of the man born blind a. So they again said to the blind man, “What do you say about him, since he opened your eyes?” He said, “He is a [the] prophet.” (9:17)

192. Perhaps one should identify two transitions of this sort in John 6. The stage is set by the Moses-Messiah typology (v. 14). Jesus’ speech, however, is introduced by a reference to the Son of Man (v. 27).

128 Jesus as the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah

Major Theological Terms of the Conversation A midrashic discussion of that identification

Jesus as the Son of Man

b. And they reviled him, saying, “You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from. . . . You were born in utter sin, and would you teach us?” (9:28 f., 34) c. Jesus heard that they had cast him out, and having found him he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” He answered, “And who is he, sir, that I may believe in him?” Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and it is he who speaks to you.” He said, “Lord, I believe”; and he worshiped him. (9:35 ff.)

From this chart we see that John never allows the identification of Jesus as Mosaic Prophet-Messiah to occupy center stage without causing it shortly thereafter to be replaced by another motif. Furthermore, this other motif always has to do with the Son of Man,193 and it usually consists of a direct presentation of Jesus as the Son of Man.194 Beyond the negative point of John’s categorical denial that the messianic issue is midrashic lies his positive concern to lead his reader to a direct confrontation with Jesus as the Son 193. We are here in touch with the fact—so puzzling to W. Bousset and others who placed John’s Gospel solidly in the history of the Gentile, Hellenistic church after the impact of Paul—that the Jewish Christian title “Son of Man” occupies center stage in John’s Christology. It is true, as R. E. Brown pointed out in a review of the first edition of the present work (USQR 23 [1968], 394), that the evangelist himself states the purpose of his writing to be “that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God” (20:31). But the titles Son of Man and Son of God have become interchangeable for John, as S. Schulz has shown in Menschensohn-Christologie, and the passages which demonstrate the centrality of the title Son of Man far outweigh those which emphasize the other title. See note 195 below. 194. Again the single exception is the Samaritan episode in John 4. There, appropriately, the movement is from the Mosaic Taheb to the Jewish Messiah to the Savior of the World.

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of Man.195 If anyone doubts that this patterned movement from the Prophet to the Son of Man is John’s own creation, a careful reading of 3:14 will probably convince him that it is. We see the precise terminology of the typological relationship: καθω;ς . . . oυ{τως, and the first term of the relationship is an act of Moses. That will certainly have prepared many readers to find as the second term the Prophet or the Prophet-Messiah, and there is no doubt that the configuration does place in a typological relationship with one another an act connected with the first redeemer and an act connected with the last redeemer. But all of this only emphasizes the fact that as the second term John mentions neither the Prophet nor the Messiah, but rather the Son of Man. In doing so he does not create ex nihilo, of course. There is old Christian tradition for the necessity (δει §) of the Son of Man’s death (Mark 8:31, etc.). But just as the verb “lift up” is here used in its peculiarly Johannine way, so the unexpected movement from Moses to the Son of Man is John’s own creation.196 When we recall the probability that the source from which John took his miracle-story tradition found its theological center in the christological affirmation that Jesus was the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah, we can peer over John’s shoulder and see that, in order to achieve that part of his own Christology which presently concerns us, he takes two major steps. In the first place he creates from the einmalig tradition about Jesus of Nazareth a two-level drama which shows Jesus to be present in the activity of the Christian witness. Second, while John demonstrates an interest in the figure of the Mosaic Messiah, he insists that Jesus makes his presence unmistakably clear not as the Mosaic Messiah, 195. The christological movement from the identification of Jesus as the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah to the confession of him as Son of Man poses fascinating problems as regards John’s place in the history of early Christianity. That the early and decidedly Jewish stages of the community’s thought should be focused on Jesus as the Mosaic Prophet-Messiah is no cause for surprise (cf. R. H. Fuller, The Foundations of New Testament Christology [1965] ad rem). But if we are to think of the completed Gospel as reflecting, in its own way (shades of F. C. Baur), developments toward the emergence of the Great (essentially Gentile) Church, then an emphasis on confessing Jesus as the Son of Man is curious, to say the least. See the studies by Martyn, Richter, and Brown cited above in note 84; also U. B. Muller, Die Geschichte der Christologie in der Johanneischen Gemeinde (1975). 196. There is one other place in the New Testament at which one encounters a kind of movement from the Mosaic Prophet to the Son of Man: Acts 7. Stephen’s speech is in part a midrash on the Mosaic typology, whereas the climax of this first Christian martyrdom finds Stephen gazing into heaven where he beholds the Son of Man. So far as I can see, however, there is little to indicate any significant connection between Acts 7 and the pattern we are investigating in John’s Gospel. If interpreters are correct who link the verb αjτενι ζv ειν in Acts 6:15 with the same verb in 7:55, considering the intervening verses to be Luke’s insertion into a pre-Lucan piece of tradition, then it is Luke himself who caused the juxtaposition of the Prophet-theology and the vision of the Son of Man. But I doubt that he was conscious of constructing a “pattern.” As Luke portrays the expansion of the church, he has little interest in the title “Son of Man.”

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but as the Son of Man on earth. We will grasp the implications of these two moves on John’s part much more adequately if we consider comparable phenomena in other literature. 3. The Two-Level Drama and the Son of Man in Other Literature John did not create the literary form of the two-level drama. It was at home in the thought-world of Jewish apocalypticism. The dicta most basic to the apocalyptic thinker are these: God created both heaven and earth. There are dramas taking place both on the heavenly stage and on the earthly stage. Yet these dramas are not really two, but rather one drama. For there are corresponding pairs of actors; a beast of a certain description in heaven represents a tyrannical king on earth, and so on. Furthermore, the developments in the drama on its heavenly stage determine the developments on the earthly stage. One might say that events on the heavenly stage not only correspond to events on the earthly stage, but also slightly precede them in time, leading them into existence, so to speak. What transpires on the heavenly stage is often called “things to come.” For that reason events seen on the earthly stage are entirely enigmatic to one who sees only the earthly stage. Stereoptic vision is necessary,197 and it is precisely stereoptic vision which causes a man to write an apocalypse: After this I looked, and lo, in heaven an open door! And the first voice, which I had heard . . . , said, “Come up hither, and I will show you what must take place after this.” (Rev. 4:1, emphasis added)

When we turn again to John’s two-level drama, three changes are immediately apparent. (1) Both of his stages are on earth. To be sure, he has much to say about the “above” and the “below.” Since Jesus is “from above,” the world is to him foreign territory, even though he was the mediator of creation. He tries in vain to instruct Nicodemus about “heavenly things.” Jesus comes from the Father and returns to the Father. But the fact remains that both the einmalig tradition and John’s extension of it into the contemporary level of his drama portray events in the world.198 (2) Furthermore, John handles the temporal distinction between the two stages in a way quite different from that which is characteristic of Jewish apocalyptic. The initial stage is not the scene of “things to come” in heaven. It is the 197. Apocalyptic thought therefore carries with itself profound epistemological implications. This fact stands behind many motifs in early Christian thought, such as the famous Messianic Secret in Mark. Regarding the epistemological crisis which John believes to be effected in Jesus’ coming, see Martyn, “Source Criticism and Religionsgeschichte in the Fourth Gospel,” especially 257, and Meeks, “Man from Heaven,” especially 54 and 57. 198. John writes a gospel, not an apocalypse, but the relation of his Gospel to the Apocalypse should probably be reexamined in light of the way in which he presents his two levels.

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scene of Jesus’ life and teaching. Its extension into the contemporary level “speaks to” current events not by portraying the immediate future, but by narrating a story which, on the face of it, is about the past, a story about Jesus of Nazareth.199 We will consider in a moment the highly important passage in which John allows Jesus to mention “things to come.” For the present it will suffice to say that the reference is not to events transpiring on a future, heavenly stage which determine events on an earthly, present stage. John’s two stages are past and present, not future and present. (3) The third change lies before us in the fact that John does not in any overt way indicate to his reader a distinction between the two stages.200 He speaks neither of heavenly visions which demand interpretation nor of open doors through which one may pass to heaven in order to see the other level of the drama. Indeed, we must say the very opposite. He presents his two-level drama in a way which is obviously intended to say with emphasis: “This is the drama of life.” Only the reflective scholar intent on analyzing the Gospel will discover the seams which the evangelist sewed together so deftly. True exegesis demands, therefore, that we recognize a certain tension between our analysis and John’s intentions. I have indicated above that the christological movement from the Mosaic Messiah to the Son of Man is John’s own creation. Strictly speaking, therefore, we cannot place it alongside a comparable phenomenon in other literature. But the climactic term of this christological movement, the Son of Man, is even better known to us from the literature of the first century than is the first term; and we will grasp more clearly what John intends by this line of movement if we compare his Son of Man with that figure as he is presented elsewhere. The figure of the Son of Man, like the phenomenon of the two-level drama, is originally at home in apocalyptic thought.201 We cannot say that the picture of him which we receive from apocalyptic literature is always and everywhere presented in the same way, but if we take our main cue from Daniel 7, his primary features are relatively constant.202 The Son of Man is a figure whose proper locale is heaven. He acts, therefore, “in a transcendent place rather than 199. That is a development with which the synoptic evangelists were certainly acquainted (e.g., problems of discipline in the Christian community, Matt. 18:15 ff.; the destruction of Jerusalem in 70 C.E., Matt. 22:7). Indeed it belongs to the very nature of the genre “gospel” to present in some degree a two-level drama; but none of the synoptists created a two-level drama of the precise sort we have found in John’s Gospel. 200. See the comments above, 89. 201. I do not mean to express an opinion regarding the ultimate origin of the figure. See the works of Rost, Morgenstern, and Colpe referred to in N. Perrin, Rediscovering the Teaching of Jesus (1967), 166, n. 1. 202. The primary features remain relatively constant for the simple reason that, by and large, the motifs of Daniel 7 impregnate all of the Son of Man traditions. It is essential to note that this fact is taken quite seriously by N. Perrin, who has suggested the absence of a Son of Man concept

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within the boundaries of the existing world.”203 The author of Daniel portrays a heavenly figure “like a son of man” to whom God grants awesome authority: And to him was given dominion (LXX, εjξoυσι α v ) and glory and kingdom, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him; his dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, and his kingdom one that shall not be destroyed. (Dan. 7:14)

Later writers, depending on Daniel, speak of the Son of Man who is empowered by God to be the cosmic judge at the end of time. God appoints him to annihilate the sinners and to lead those who are elect and righteous to a supraterrestrial salvation.204 The author of 1 Enoch 62 paints a picture of heaven at the end of time when he shows the separation of the righteous from the sinners: And the righteous and elect shall be saved on that day, And they shall never thenceforth see the face of the sinners and unrighteous. And the Lord of Spirits will abide over them, And with that Son of Man shall they eat And lie down and rise up for ever and ever.

The Son of Man is, therefore, not only a figure of heaven, but also a figure of judgment and of the future. His activity will mark the cosmic, catastrophic krisis which terminates the earthly course of events. The way in which John presents Jesus as the Son of Man shows both continuity and discontinuity with this “traditional” picture. For John, the Son of Man has authority, just as does the one like a son of man in Daniel: (a) John 5:27a: και; εjξoυσι vαν ε[δωκεν αυjτω/` . . . Dan. 7:14: και; εjδovθη αυjτω/` εjξoυσι vα (b) John 5:27b: . . . υιJo;ς αjνθρωvπoυ Dan. 7:13: . . . υιJo;ς αjνθρωvπoυ205 His authority, furthermore, is explicitly that of the judge, and this authority has been handed over to him by God, as the same verse tells us: And he [God] has given to him authority to execute judgment because he is the in Judaism in Rediscovering the Teaching of Jesus, 164 ff., 260. For our purpose the presence or absence of a Son of Man concept in Judaism is of no great consequence. The profile of the one like a Son of Man in Daniel 7 indicates him to be a cosmic judge who acts in a transcendent realm. These two features remain, as I said above, relatively constant, and it is only these two features (not the Son of Man’s “coming,” etc.) which interest us. 203. H. E. Tödt, The Son of Man, 29. 204. Ibid. 205. S. Schulz, Menschensohn-Christologie, 111. Note the anarthrous state in each case.

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Son of Man. (5:27)

We are reminded not only of Daniel 7:13 f., but also of Enoch 69:27: And he sat on the throne of his glory, and the sum of judgment was given to the Son of Man, and he caused the sinners to pass away and be destroyed from off the face of the earth.206

In some respects John 5:27 appears to be the most “traditional” Son of Man saying in the whole of the New Testament. The evangelist has some surprises in store, however, in the remaining eleven references to the Son of Man. He binds the Son of Man to Old Testament figures (Jacob/Israel in 1:51; Moses in 3:12),207 to the motif of a descending and ascending redeemer (3:13 and 6:62), to the language of sacramental mystery (6:27 and 6:53), and to two verbs on which he lays considerable weight: “to lift up” and “to glorify” (3:14; 8:28; 12:34; and 12:23; 13:31). And, finally, he allows Jesus to draw from the man born blind a confession of him as the Son of Man (9:35 ff.).208 There are many problems presented by these twelve references which cannot be discussed here.209 I have already pointed out the evangelist’s creativity, as well as his purpose, in linking an act of Moses together with an act done to the Son of Man (3:14). At the present juncture we may turn our attention (a) to the motifs given in 9:35 ff. and (b) to the way in which John speaks about the Son of Man’s ascent to the Father. The two aspects of the Johannine Son of Man which will emerge as we do this betray John’s hand quite as clearly as does the linking of the Son of Man with Moses. (a) None of John’s pictures of the Son of Man is more surprising than the one given in 9:35 ff. Nowhere else in gospel tradition does the Jesus who walks among men on the face of the earth require of someone the confession of himself as the Son of Man. In the famous Caesarea Philippi pericope this title is not even mentioned as a possible one for Jesus, and that is hardly surprising. One 206. Ibid., 112, n. 5. 207. This is not surprising in itself, of course. 208. Cf. Schulz, Komposition, 133, who allots, however, to pre-Johannine tradition far too much of the creativity displayed in this combining of the Son of Man with motifs which are otherwise foreign to that figure. 209. The literature on the Johannine Son of Man is extensive. See particularly S. S. SmaIley, “The Johannine Son of Man Sayings,” NTS 15 (1968/69), 278–301; R. G. Hamerton-KeIly, Preexistence, Wisdom and the Son of Man (1973); E. Ruckstuhl, “Die johanneische Menschensohnforschung 1957–1969,” J. Pfammatter und P. Purger (eds.), Theologische Berichte I (1972), 171–284; W. A. Meeks, “The Man from Heaven”; Ruckstuhl, “Abstieg und Erhöhung des johanneischen Menschensohns,” R. Pesch und R. Schnackenburg (eds.), Jesus und der Menschensohn, für Anton Vögtle (1975), 314–41; J. Coppens, “Les logia johanniques du fils de l’homme,” M. de Jonge (ed.), L’Evangile de Jean, 311–15.

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would scarcely think of confessing an earthbound figure as the heavenly Son of Man. There is, to be sure, a stratum in the synoptic tradition in which Jesus refers to himself in the midst of his earthly activity as the Son of Man, but that is quite another matter. H. E. Tödt is correct when he speaks of this synoptic phenomenon as a prolepsis which arose mainly because of the continuity between Jesus and the Son of Man expressed in the saying: “Everyone who acknowledges me before men, the Son of Man will acknowledge before the angels of God.” (Luke 12:8)210

John 9:35, on the other hand, can scarcely be spoken of as an instance of prolepsis. On the contrary, we must speak in this case of the presence of the Son of Man in the world. As Ernst Käsemann remarks, for John Jesus is the Son of Man because in him the Son of God comes to man. It characterizes John’s radical re-interpretation that he uses this title which designated the apocalpytic World Judge to refer to the earthly existence of Jesus.211

Nor did John arrive at this portrait of Jesus as the Son of Man present among men on earth by slightly modifying the proleptic use of the title in synoptic tradition.212 He came to it for reasons which are closely bound up with the twolevel drama, as 9:35 ff. clearly tells us. It is centrally as the Son of Man that Jesus appears on the contemporary level of the drama and thus makes known his presence. The traditional motif of the Son of Man as judge, so prominent in 5:27, is directly acted out in 9:35–41. In the midst of the church-synagogue tension of his own day John hears the Son of Man say: “For judgment I came into this world, that those who do not see may see, and that those who see may become blind.” (9:39)

It is precisely the contemporary level of the drama which makes clear that judgment by the Son of Man takes place essentially on earth and in the present, not in heaven and in the future. Indeed, in order to avoid misunderstanding, we should say that the judging and redeeming presence of the Son of Man is limited neither to a past epoch during which Jesus was in the world nor to a future point of cosmic upheaval. In John’s own time and place Jesus somehow makes effective his presence as the Son of Man. (b) The picture is, however, by no means consistent. We have seen that a 210. Tödt, The Son of Man, 295. 211. Käsemann, Testament, 13. 212. Cf. R. Schnackenburg, “Der Menschensohn im Johannesevangelium,” NTS 11/2 (1965), 123–37: “Der vierte Evangelist [ist] zu seinen Gegenwartsaussagen über den Menschensohn nicht über die synoptische Tradition gekommen . . . , sondern auf eigenen Wegen theologischen Weiterdenkens” (131).

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number of John’s references to the Son of Man speak of his ascension, his being lifted up, his being glorified (3:14; 6:62; 12:23, etc.). This motif may be indebted to speculation in which the figure of wisdom descends and ascends, as well as to the Christian tradition of the necessity of Jesus’ death. As Barrett remarks, the Son of Man “returns where he was before (cf. 1:1) by mounting upon the cross.”213 It is also said that when the Son of Man is lifted up from the earth, he will draw all men to himself (12:32).214 We have already noted that in John’s affirmation of the Son of Man’s ascension there is surely a polemical note vis-à-vis claims the synagogue is making for Moses. Wayne Meeks has cogently argued that John probably worded 3:13 as it stands in order categorically to exclude the rather exotic traditions about Moses’ (and Elijah’s) ascent.215 Beyond clearly presenting such a polemic, however, 3:13 provides a somewhat confusing picture with respect to the locus of the Son of Man. Here, while conversing with Nicodemus, Jesus speaks as though he were already exalted to heaven: “No one has ascended into heaven but he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man.” (3:13, emphasis added)

An ancient scribe sensed the implication of the fact that the first verb is in the perfect tense when he added to this sentence the words, “who is in heaven.” Even without his addition the verse is highly ambiguous. Jesus is portrayed conversing with Nicodemus on earth; yet he speaks at this point as though he had already ascended to heaven. In light of these references it is clear that John’s Son of Man is not consistently located on earth. This difficulty is considerably compounded when we recall the very promise of Jesus which initially helped us to discover the two-level drama: “He who believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I go to the Father.” (14:12)

When we first quoted this verse, we were intent on the literary and historical analysis of John 9. Now we must consider the highly paradoxical character of the verse when it is taken together with the two-level drama toward which it points. Jesus promises the Johannine church that his followers will continue to do his works, and that is exactly what we found to be characteristic of the two213. Barrett, St. John, 250. 214. This note may be a reinterpretation of the apocalyptic hope of being gathered around the Son of Man in heaven as one sees it in 1 Enoch 62 quoted above. 215. Meeks, Prophet-King, 301. Regarding the possible role of 3:13 as polemic against Elijah traditions see Martyn, “We Have Found Elijah,” and cf. P. Borgen, “Some Jewish Exegetical Traditions as Background for Son of Man Sayings in John’s Gospel (Jn 3, 13–14 and context),” M. de Jonge (ed.), L’Evangile de Jean, 243–58.

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level drama. But whereas in that drama his followers continue to do his works because he makes known his presence in the everyday fabric of life, he clearly says in the promise that all of this will take place because he is going to the Father.216 This paradox presents to us the same problem posed by the apparent inconsistency with regard to the present locale of the Son of Man. Is Jesus as the Son of Man now with the Father or with his followers on earth? If the twolevel drama takes place “because I go to the Father,” is the Risen Lord now in heaven or making his presence known in the everyday life of John’s community? In order to attack this problem in a way which follows the grain of John’s thought we must recognize that the paradoxical promise of 14:12 occurs immediately prior to the first of five passages in which Jesus promises the coming of the Paraclete. 4. The Paraclete, the Son of Man, and the Two-Level Drama Whatever the ultimate origin of the figure called the Paraclete, the main lines of the interpretation laid on him by John are clear enough.217 These lines of interpretation may be readily grasped if we first summarize the characteristics 216. We may recall our discussion (38 ff.) of the similar tension posed in 9:4 f. (a) The expression “We must work the works of him who sent me” points, I said, to a two-level drama in which Jesus’ works are continued as he effects his presence in and through the Christian witness. (b) On the other hand, the words which follow speak of a time when no one can work. Furthermore, Jesus explicitly says, “While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” The tension between these two motifs is to be taken seriously. It points to what Bultmann has correctly termed the Johannine “too late” (Johannes, 231 ff.). Jesus’ departure from the world signifies for those who do not believe a point after which it is “too late.” This is clear on the einmalig level of the drama: The people with whom Jesus comes into contact have only “the day” as their opportunity. Jesus dies, not as a result of their sovereign will; his departure to the Father is, rather, his own deed. For the world this departure of Jesus signifies the judgment (8:28; 16:8–11; 8:21–24) in this way: when he is gone, there will be no more revelation for them. But now we must also inquire into the meaning which this “too late” has on the contemporary level. Does it signify that Jesus’ works have come to an end, as Bernard says (St. John, vol. 2, 326)? I think not. It does mean that in the moment of unfaith, it is already “too late.” Just as in the time of Jesus’ earthly life, so also now his words spoken through the Christian witness, his deeds performed in the Christian preacher, are not objects toward which one may take a stand today or tomorrow. They are, rather, the words and deeds of the sovereign Son of Man who judges in the moment itself. There is a “too late,” therefore, on both the einmalig and the contemporary levels of the drama, but the awesome meaning which this “too late” has for John would be wholly lost if we compelled him to speak of a time in which Jesus was the Light of the World, a time in which he was the Bread of Life, a time in which he was the Son of Man. 217. See the excellent study by Otto Betz, Der Paraklet, Fürsprecher im häretischen Spätjudentum, im Johannes-evangelium und in neu-gefundenen gnostischen Schriften (1963), where all of the literature to its date is cited. Worthy of special mention are G. Bornkamm, “Der Paraklet im Johannesevangelium,” 12–35, in Festschrift Rudolf Bultmann (1949), and S. Schulz, Menschen-

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of the Johannine Paraclete and then consider the manner in which John allows Jesus to introduce his promises about the Paraclete. 14:15–17 1. Jesus will intercede with the Father in behalf of the disciples, and the Father will give them another Paraclete. 2. This other Paraclete will be with the disciples forever, in apparent contrast to Jesus who is now taking leave of them. 3. The other Paraclete is the Spirit of Truth. 4. He is invisible to the world; it neither sees nor knows him. 5. But the disciples know him, for he abides with them and will be in them (cf. 20:22). 14:25–26 6. The Paraclete is the Holy Spirit. 7. He will teach the believers all things, and 8. he will bring to their remembrance all that Jesus has said to them. 15:26–27 9. The Paraclete will bear witness to Jesus. 16:5–11 10. When the Paraclete comes, he will act as prosecuting attorney and judge with regard to the world; he will convict the world.

sohn-Christologie. Bornkamm’s thesis, accepted by Schulz, that the essential features of the Paraclete are derived from Jewish expectations of the Son of Man, is not quite so far wide of the mark as Betz thinks. The thesis is surely incorrect as it stands, but it points to the fact that in one important respect the Johannine Paraclete looks very much like the Johannine Son of Man: both judge the world. Regarding the ultimate origin of the Paraclete figure, Betz’s parallels drawn from the literature of Qumran are impressive; but see the criticisms of Schnackenburg, St. John, 134, and of Raymond Brown, “The Paraclete in the Fourth Gospel,” NTS 13/2 (1967), 113–32, especially 125 f. See further G. Johnston, The Spirit-Paraclete in the Gospel of John (1970); A. R. C. Leaney, “The Johannine Paraclete and the Qumran Scrolls,” J. H. Charlesworth (ed.), John and Qumran (1972), 38–61; U. B. Müller, “Die Parakletenvorstellung im Johannesevangelium,” ZThK 71 (1974), 31–77; I. de la Potterie, “Parole et esprit dans S. Jean,” de Jonge (ed.), L’Evangile de Jean, 177–210. The article by Müller is especially percipient and constitutes a genuine step forward, even if all aspects of the argument are not fully convincing.

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16:12–15 11. The Paraclete will not speak on his own authority; he will glorify Jesus, taking that which is Jesus’ and declaring it to the believers. 12. He will declare to the believers the things that are to come. From this sketch alone it is clear that the Paraclete looks very much like Jesus. He is the other Paraclete, Jesus being the first Paraclete. He has no independent “personality.” He has no independent function. His sole raison d’être is to bring to the disciples’ remembrance all that Jesus said, to bear witness to Jesus, to glorify Jesus, to continue Jesus’ “suit with the world.” That the Paraclete continues Jesus’ “suit with the world” suggests that his function is closely related to Jesus’ office as the Son of Man. We have already seen that judgment at the hands of the Son of Man is for the Fourth Evangelist emphatically an event of the present. Now we see how the Son of Man’s presence is effected. By continuing Jesus’ “suit with the world” the Paraclete makes effective Jesus’ presence as the awesome Son of Man. Here we may see the reason for John’s inconsistency regarding the locale of that awesome figure. The Son of Man ascends to heaven on the cross, but in some sense he returns to earth in the person of the Paraclete and can therefore enter into conversation with “Nicodemus” as he who has ascended to heaven (3:13). The Paraclete makes Jesus present on earth as the Son of Man who binds together heaven and earth (1:51). Therefore the Son of Man cannot be located exclusively either in heaven or on earth. The Paraclete plays a similar role with regard to the two-level drama. If we ask why the second Paraclete should look so much like the first, the answer is immediately at hand: the second Paraclete looks like the first for the sake of the two-level drama. Here the contexts in which John allows Jesus to make his promises about the Paraclete are extremely important. One of the “red lines” which runs through the whole complex of the Farewell Discourses is, of course, the problem which is posed by Jesus’ departure. John 13 opens with the awesome note that Jesus’ hour has come to depart out of this world to the Father (v. 1). The reader has been told many times that the world is, so to speak, foreign territory to the Revealer.218 He was the mediator of creation, but he is also “from above,” and that statement about his origin also says something about his destiny. Now it is time for him to return from the world to the Father with whom 218. The Revealer is thus the Stranger to the world, as E. Käsemann, Testament, 22, and particularly W. A. Meeks, “Man from Heaven,” passim, have noted.

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he dwelt before the world was made (17:5). This line of thought is quite central to John’s theology. On the cross Jesus really ascends to the Father. In anticipation of that real departure he says in his great prayer to the Father: “And now I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world. . . . While I was with them, I kept them in thy name.” (17:11 f.)

This turn of events is bound to put fear into the hearts of Jesus’ disciples. They are left behind in “enemy territory” without their leader. From their point of view the Lord is departing in midstream, so to speak. To be sure, he utters from the cross the victorious cry “It is finished.” That tells us very forcefully that there is no second drama which will be the sequel to the drama of God’s sending his Son (contrast Luke-Acts). But in itself that magnificent cry does not solve the problem of the separation caused by Jesus’ departure, and this problem is one of the main subjects of the Farewell Discourses. Whereas the Redeemer is now returning to heaven, his disciples must remain in the world. At this point a number of options were open to the theologian in John’s place. Let me mention two of them, since they play a role in the Farewell Discourses.219 The author of 1 Enoch 39 speaks of the dwelling places of the holy ones, the resting places of the righteous in heaven (v. 4). Similarly in 2 Enoch we hear that God has prepared many mansions in heaven, good for the good and bad for the bad (61:2). A theologian faced with the problem posed by the Redeemer’s departure could have the Redeemer speak comfortingly about heavenly resting places. Alternatively he could allow the Redeemer to talk of a mystical union between himself and his own, spanning the distance between them by taking the believer out of the world, at least in mystic trances. The religious literature of the Hellenistic age abounds with motifs easily employed in order to make this point. John allows the departing Lord to elect both of these options; yet he has the Lord do so in a sovereign manner. Jesus tells his sorrowing disciples not to be troubled, assuring them that there are many rooms in his Father’s house. He then 219. A third possibility must also be mentioned, even though we cannot pause here to develop it: A “realistic” or “Ignatian” understanding of the Eucharist would serve to bridge the chasm between the departed Lord and his followers. It is this problem of separation which is the greater scandal mentioned in 6:62. And the greater scandal is met to an extent by the lesser scandal (v. 54). But 6:63 shows clearly that John does not elect to solve the problem posed in the Farewell Discourses by a realistic understanding of the Eucharist. Against G. Bornkamm, “Die eucharistische Rede im Johannesevangelium,” ZNW 47 (1956), 161–69, E. Schweizer, “Das johanneische Zeugnis vom Herrenmahl,” EvTh 12 (1952/3), 358–61, and P. Borgen, Bread from Heaven, accept 6:51b–59 as Johannine. Borgen’s argument is particularly impressive. See also C. K. Barrett, “Das Fleisch des Menschensohns (Joh 6.53),” R. Pesch und R. Schnackenburg (eds.), Jesus und der Menschensohn (1975), 342–54.

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changes the terms of the picture radically by saying that he will come again and take them not to these rooms but to himself. Furthermore: “If a man loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him.” (14:23; the term rendered “home” is µoνηv, the same term rendered “rooms” in 14:2)

Thus, the problem of separation is ultimately to be met with the preparation not of rooms, but of a room, and that room is not in heaven, but on earth. The disciple can overcome his fear and make his way in the period after Jesus’ departure not by recalling that at the close of his own lifetime there will be a room for him in heaven, but rather by knowing that in the present time both the Father and the Son come and make their home with him. Similarly, while Jesus speaks of a remarkable union between himself and his followers, using the ancient imagery of the vine with its branches, the resulting picture is neither mystical nor otherworldly. “I pray not that thou shouldst take them out of the world, but that thou shouldst keep them from evil.” (17:15)

For immediately following his words about the vine, the Risen Lord makes clear that the union about which he has spoken is played out in the earthy drama of everyday life. “If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before it hated you. . . . If they persecuted me, they will persecute you. . . . They will put you out of the synagogues; indeed the hour is coming when whoever kills you [because you are a beguiler] will think he is offering service to God.” (15:18, 20; 16:2)

Thus, John has Jesus modify the traditional hope for rooms in heaven by speaking about a home on earth. This modification brings with it the promise of Jesus’ own return to his disciples. John also allows Jesus to employ the imagery of mystic union, but that union takes on its notes of world-foreignness precisely in the two-level drama which involves such earthy things as the painful amputation from the synagogue and facing trial on the charge of being a beguiler. If we now return to the Paraclete passages, reading them in the context thus outlined, we see that of all the functions of the Paraclete, none is more central than his continuing the work of Jesus. The paradox presented by Jesus’ promise that his work on earth will be continued because he is going to the Father is “solved” by his return in the person of the Paraclete. It is, therefore, precisely the Paraclete who creates the two-level drama. One cannot fail to be impressed by the boldness with which John reinterprets the traditional motif of the coming of the Spirit. That is especially true when we recognize that in order for the

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Paraclete to create the two-level drama, he must look not only like Jesus, but also like the Christian witness who is Jesus’ “double” in that drama: Jesus

The Other Paraclete

The Christian Witness

a. Origin I came from the Father (16:27 and many have others), I came not of my own accord, but he sent me. (8:42, etc.)

The Paraclete who proceeds from the Father (15:26); the Paraclete whom the Father will send. (14:26)

As thou didst send me into the world, so I sent them into the world. (17:18)

b. Coming I will come to you. (14:18, 28)

When the Paraclete comes. (15:26, etc.)

[The motif is, of course, absent.]

Whom the world cannot receive because it neither sees him nor knows him. (14:17)

[The reason that the world does not know us is that it did not know him. (1 John 3:1)]

The Paraclete . . . whom the world cannot receive. (14:17)

If the world hates you . . . (15:18)

And when he comes, he will convince the world of sin and of righteousness and of judgment. . . . (16:8 ff.)

Jesus [in the person of the Christian witness] said, “For judgment I came into the world, that those who do not see may see, and that those who see may become blind.” (9:39)

He will not speak on his own authority. (16:13)

As thou didst send me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. (17:18)

He will bear witness to me. (15:26)

And you also are witnesses. (15:27)

c. Relationship to the world 1. The world does not know: You know neither me nor my Father. (8:19, cf. 17:25) 2. The world hates: Know that the world hated me before it hated you. (15:18) 3. The world is judged: And this is judgment, that the light has come into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light. (3:19) He who does not believe is condemned already. (3:18)

d. Teaching under authority My teaching is not mine. (7:16) I have not spoken on my own authority. (12:49; cf. 14:24) e. Bearing witness . . . I bear witness to myself. (8:14)

Truly, truly, I say to you, we speak of what we know, and bear witness to what we have seen; but you do not receive our testimony. (3:11)

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The Other Paraclete

f. . . . in such a way as to extend Jesus’ work into the present. These things I have spoken But the Paraclete . . . to you, while I am will teach you all things, still with you. (14:25) and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you. (14:26) He will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me, for he will take what is mine and declare it to you. (16:13 f.)

The Christian Witness

Truly, truly, I say to you, he who believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I go to the Father. (14:12)

We must work the works of him who sent me, while it is day. (9:4, emphasis added)

The coming of the Paraclete is the return of Jesus to his own. They are now in him and he in them (14:20). But it is a dramatic union played out in the twolevel drama in a way which creates an epistemological crisis. The world sees, of course, only one level of the drama. It sees the einmalig tradition about Jesus of Nazareth, a figure of the past (14:19), whose identity may be debated in a midrashic manner. Or it sees the contemporary Christian, without perceiving the Paraclete who makes Jesus present in the Christian’s deeds and words (14:17). For John, on the other hand, the drama is real precisely because it is played simultaneously on the two levels. We may recall the initial climax which John creates in the Prologue to his Gospel: And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth; we have beheld his glory, glory as of the only Son of the Father. (1:14)220

And we may compare with it two of the verses from the Farewell Discourses which have already claimed our attention. Just as the Word did not remain in heaven, but rather came and dwelt among us,221 so the Risen Lord does not remain in heaven, but rather comes to dwell with his own. “If a man loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come and make our home with him.” (14:23)

Furthermore, John can say in his Prologue “we beheld his glory” not only because the Christian church possesses tradition about Jesus’ einmalig revela220. E. Käsemann has convincingly shown that this verse is John’s initial comment on the Logos Hymn which he employed to introduce his Gospel, “The Structure and Purpose of the Prologue to John’s Gospel,” 138–67 in New Testament Questions of Today (1969). 221. E. Haenchen has developed this motif in a very helpful way, “Probleme des johanneischen Prologs,” ZThK 60/3 (1963), 305–34.

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tion of the Father, but also because the Paraclete is even now showing Jesus in his glory. “He will glorify me, for he will take what is mine and declare it to you.” (16:14)

The two-level drama makes clear that the Word’s dwelling among us and our beholding his glory are not events which transpired only in the past. They do not constitute an ideal period when the kingdom of God was on earth, a period to which one looks back with the knowledge that it has now drawn to a close with Jesus’ ascension to heaven as the Son of Man. These events to which John bears witness transpire on both the einmalig and the contemporary levels of the drama, or they do not transpire at all. In John’s view, their transpiring on both levels of the drama is, to a large extent, the good news itself.

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GLIMPSES INTO THE HISTORY OF THE JOHANNINE COMMUNITY* From Its Origin through the Period of Its Life in Which the Fourth Gospel Was Composed

Introduction In composing the present chapter, I have taken for granted a few presuppositions which ought to be made clear at the outset: 1. In three respects the Fourth Gospel is comparable to what archaeologists call a “tell.” First, there are numerous literary strata, and to some extent these strata may be differentiated from one another.1 Second, much of the substance of the “materials” in the strata is of such a character as to reflect communal interests, concerns, and experiences.2 Third, considered as a whole, this literary “tell” exhibits a remarkable degree of stylistic and conceptual homogeneity.3 Now, taking into account all three of these observations, one sees that we are dealing with a stratified literary deposit from what archaeologists would call a single, continuous occupation. In other words, the literary history behind the Fourth Gospel reflects to a large degree the history of a single community which maintained over a period of some duration its particular and rather peculiar identity. It obviously follows that we may hope to draw from the Gospel’s literary history certain conclusions about the community’s social and theological history. In the present chapter there will not be sufficient space to demonstrate in every case *This essay originally appeared in J. Louis Martyn, The Gospel of John in Christian History: Essays for Interpreters (New York: Paulist Press, 1979): 90–121. Reprinted with permission. 1. See, e.g., the analysis proposed by Brown, John, xxxiv–xl. The major criterion for strata differentiation is the aporia. See note 3 below. 2. This point has been grasped by many interpreters. See Martyn, above, 29 and passim; and David E. Aune, The Cultic Setting of Realized Eschatology in Early Christianity (1972), 73–84. 3. E. Ruckstuhl, Die literarische Einheit des Johannesvangeliums (1987); see also Ruckstuhl’s essay in M. de Jonge (ed.), L’Evangile de Jean. His critique of the work of R. T. Fortna is careful and weighty. Johannine source critics will have to reckon with Ruckstuhl’s renewed challenge as regards the use of stylistic observations. The major criterion for strata differentiation, however, the criterion of the aporias, remains intact. Cf. Robert Kysar, The Fourth Evangelist and His Gospel (1975), chap. 1.

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the literary-critical grounds. I can only say that the fundamental attempt is to move from relatively secure points in the document’s literary history to reasonable hypotheses as regards the community’s social and theological history. 2. A second presupposition is that the Gospel was written for the Johannine community. That is to say, it was written for a community of people who had a shared history and who in the course of that history developed a highly symbolic language with numerous expressions which they would easily understand as referring to their shared history. In short, to a large extent the Gospel is written in the language of a community of initiates. It follows that those who would be historians of this community must not only engage in literary archaeology, but must also make at least a partial entry into this symbolic language. That is no small undertaking. On the contrary, it requires all of the scientific control and all of the informed, historical imagination we can corporately muster. The fact that these two gifts are somewhat unevenly distributed among us is one of the reasons we must help one another by mutual enrichment and by mutual correction (Rom. 1:11). 3. In the course of this chapter it will become apparent that I believe studies in Jewish Christianity hold considerable promise for historians of the Johannine community and for Johannine interpreters in general. There are some new labors in this area, and I think they may be expected to bear some fruit in Johannine studies.4 So much for presuppositions. I should also say a brief word about the indicative mood and the subjunctive mood. Considering the widespread use of the indicative mood in the work of historians, it has occurred to me that it would be a valuable practice for the historian to rise each morning saying to himself three times slowly and with emphasis, “I do not know.” The direct pertinence of this suggestion to the present chapter will be at least partially grasped if the reader will bear in mind the necessity to interpret a good many of my indicative verbs as though they were in the subjunctive mood. The number of points in the history of the Johannine community about which we may be virtually certain is relatively small, and we need to be clear about that. One of these relatively secure points is surely the highly probable correspondence to the Birkath ha-Minim (Benediction Against Heretics) of the expressions “to be put out of the synagogue” and “to put someone out of the synagogue” which emerge in John 9:22, 12:42, and 16:2. While concern for clarity has caused me to present the following “glimpses” in chronological order, the perception of them began not with observations and hypotheses pertinent to what I have termed the early period, but rather with this secure point 4. In addition to the well-known works of Schoeps, Daniélou, Simon et al., see A. F. J. Klijn and G. L. Reinink, Patristic Evidence (1975); also J. Marcus, “Jewish Christianity,” The Cambridge History of Christianity (ed. M. Mitchell and F. Young; Cambridge University Press, forthcoming).

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of correspondence.5 From this point I have tried to work both backward and forward literarily and historically.6 1. The Early Period The Conception of a Messianic Group within the Community of the Synagogue The statement of Martin Dibelius, “In the beginning was the sermon,” is not only famous;7 it has also been enormously influential in New Testament studies. Perhaps, indeed, it is this very statement which lies ultimately behind the wide agreement today that “the Fourth Gospel began life as separate homilies.”8 The question is whether we can determine which of the recoverable homilies are likely to be the earliest. A strong case can be made, I believe, for holding that a recoverable literary stratum behind 1:35–49 constitutes part of a very early sermon, perhaps indeed one of those evangelistic sermons, which by definition must have lain at the origin of the Johannine community.9 There are several reasons for holding this opinion: 5. See the preceding chapters. 6. See Meeks, “Am I a Jew?” In Meeks’s generous and helpful appraisal of the essay I contributed to the Pittsburgh Festival of the Gospels (Jesus and Man’s Hope I, 247–73), he remarks that while my “fascinating proposals” constitute a “prolific working hypothesis . . . the weakest point . . . is just the starting point: the attempt to reconstruct a single, unitary narrative source independently of form- and redaction-critical study of the discourse material” (184). This is a critique of the source-critical labors of Robert Fortna and of my taking those labors as my first hypothesis (Pittsburgh essay, 248). At the present juncture three things must be said: (1) I believe Fortna’s analysis to be the best and most helpful source criticism of the Fourth Gospel we have to date. (2) Meeks is surely right that Fortna’s work must be reviewed on the basis of form- and redactioncritical study of the discourses. This constitutes a desideratum in Johannine studies. (3) Actually both in the Pittsburgh essay and in the present one the “starting point” of my analysis, as distinguished from the point at which the presentation of results begins, is John 9:22. 7. Martin Dibelius, Die alttestamentlichen Motive in der Leidensgeschichte des Petrus- und des Johannes-Evangeliums, 242 of the reprint in Botschaft und Geschichte I (1953). 8. Lindars, Behind the Fourth Gospel (1971), 47. 9. Verse 49 is fixed as the end of the pericope by the observation that John 1:50 is probably the evangelist’s composition, placed as it is to function as a bridge leading from the tradition behind 1:35–49 to the logion of verse 51. As regards beginning the pericope with verse 35 cf. M. de Jonge, “Jesus as Prophet and King in the Fourth Gospel,” in ETL 49 (1973), 163 f., where 1:19–34 is correctly identified as a pericope. In the present essay I am using the terms “sermon” and “homily” to refer to messages actually preached in the Johannine group/community. I do not intend to imply that the very words of the recoverable literary stratum behind John 1:35–49 constituted such a message, but rather that they encapsulate part of an early sermon. At a later point I shall make a similar suggestion about John 8:31 ff. These suggestions are also to be distinguished from the claim that we have before us an example representative of a form-critical category which can be identified as a “homily.” See the trenchant observations made on this subject by K. P. Donfried, The Setting of Second Clement in Early Christianity (1974), 25–34.

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1. Verse 43 contains clear indications of editorial activity on the part of someone. There are vexing syntactical problems.10 There is moreover a structural problem which is created by verse 43.11 Elsewhere in this tightly knit pericope the present tense of the verb “to find” serves as the means by which the witnesschain is continuously extended from John the Baptist outward (vv. 41 and 45; cf. 35 ff.). As it stands, verse 43 breaks this chain by allowing Jesus to be the subject of “he found.” Several explanations are possible, of course.12 In my opinion the most probable explanation is to identify the syntactical and structural problems as aporias introduced into the text by someone who edited an earlier tradition or source. In its earlier form verse 43 probably mentioned Andrew (or Simon) as the subject of “he found.”13 Thus the pericope originally portrayed Jesus in a remarkably passive role. He does not take the major initiative to call disciples. On the contrary, it is the others who find him. 2. With this observation it is harmonious that alongside the striking use of “to find” the verb “to come” emerges in pregnant expressions: come and see (v. 39), come and see (v. 46), to come to Jesus (equivalent expressions in vv. 39, 46, and 47). Aside from the Baptist, all of the characters in the underlying tradition come to Jesus and thereby become his disciples. 3. The roles given to “to find” and “to come” and the concomitant passivity of Jesus constitute an aporia when compared with key passages in the Fourth Gospel in which the initiative of Jesus (or of God) is polemically affirmed. Two are particularly striking:14 6:44 (cf. also 6:65) No one can come to me unless the Father . . . draws him. . . .

10. Significant syntactical problems are also discussed in Brown, John, ad loc.; it is one of the disappointing features of the generally helpful commentary by Barnabas Lindars that problems posed by the text are not infrequently smoothed over, rather than wrestled with. Lindars’s comment on 1:43 is typical of such treatment: “But awkward as it is the text can stand . . . the verse is only aimed at bringing Philip on to the stage, because of his part in what follows.” 11. The structural imbalance was seen and clearly stated by M.-E. Boismard, “Les traditions johanniques concernant le Baptiste,” in RB 70 (1963), 5–42 (especially 40). 12. F. Spitta, W. Wilkens, and M.-E. Boismard allotted verse 43 to the hand of a post-Johannine redactor. The references to Spitta and Wilkens are given by Boismard in the article cited above in note 11 (42). 13. See Brown, John, ad loc. 14. Cf. also John 5:14 and 9:35.

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15:16 (cf. also 15:19) You did not choose me, but I chose you. The “someone” who edited the earlier tradition or source behind 1:35–49 was very probably the Fourth Evangelist himself. Part of his motivation for altering verse 43 presumably lay in the desire to show Jesus taking the initiative in this instance (cf. also v. 48c). 4. The roles given to “to find” and “to come” also differentiate the underlying tradition rather sharply from the Synoptic pericopes commonly referred to as “The Call of the Disciples.”15 In the latter, as the name correctly implies, Jesus consistently takes the entire initiative to call disciples. In the tradition underlying John 1:35–49, to the contrary, we have already noted that Jesus is dominantly presented as a passive figure who is successively found by men who come to him. From these four observations it follows with some degree of probability that we may view the earlier stratum below John 1:35–49 as a tradition antedating the literary efforts of the evangelist and as a non-Synoptic form of the pericope about the coming of Jesus’ first disciples. Moreover, because of the dual accent on “finding” and “coming,” it is quite easy to imagine that the earlier form of John 1:35–49 was in fact a sermon which lay, along with others, at the origin of the Johannine community. One can readily envisage that the preacher who painted the dynamic picture of men who come to Jesus and find him to be the Messiah did so in the hope that his hearers would behave in like manner, that they also would come to Jesus, and that, finding him to be the Messiah, they also would become Christians. If some of the hearers did so, if the underlying sermon did in part play a role in the origin of the Johannine community, then from where did the converts come? Not from the general world of Greco-Roman culture. There is, of course, a conceptual movement which corresponds to the spatial movement of the verb “to come,” and that conceptual movement does not include a step from messianic ignorance to the awakening of messianic expectations. It is not they who have never been told of him who come to see, and it is not they who have never heard of him who come to understand (cf. Isa. 51:15; Rom. 15:21). On the contrary, the preacher takes for granted that his hearers already hold certain wellformed messianic expectations, and these expectations constitute in his view a sort of launching pad for a heilsgeschichtlich christological trajectory which has its fulfillment in Jesus of Nazareth. He is the Mosaic prophet, the eschatological Elijah, the expected Messiah. The preacher of the sermon, therefore, like 15. For a discussion of F. Hahn’s analysis of this pericope see note 65 in Martyn, The Gospel of John in Christian History (1979).

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John the Baptist, points to Jesus, so that those who have been brought up on the traditional Jewish expectations may now find the one so long expected. From these observations it would seem obvious that the preacher was addressing Jews and thus that the homily underlying John 1:35–49 is one of the rare examples within the largely Gentile-Christian New Testament of what Paul referred to as the Gospel of the circumcision (Gal. 2:7). This tells us, in turn, that the evangelization which brought the Johannine community into existence was very probably carried out wholly within the bosom of the synagogue. As regards the Johannine community, “In the beginning was the sermon of the Gospel of the circumcision.” Of course this Gospel of the circumcision will have included considerably more than the account of messianic discovery portrayed in the sermon underlying 1:35–49. There will also have been numerous pieces of Jesus-tradition which were used to support and to make concrete for the hearers the confessions paradigmatically made by Andrew, Peter, Philip, and Nathanael. We cannot know the precise contours of this additional material, but there is good reason to assume that it included elements of the passion-resurrection narrative and the early strata of a number of the Johannine miracle stories, several of which may have been collected and shaped under the influence of similar collections which lie behind the Synoptic Gospels, and also under the influence of the Elijah/Elisha cycles in 1 and 2 Kings.16 In any case, already in this early evangelistic preaching Jesus’ miracles were probably called “signs,” and it was expected that most Jews who heard and therefore saw these signs would come rather uncritically to believe that Jesus was the promised Messiah. We may surmise that before a great many years had passed, it occurred to one of the preachers of this inner-synagogue messianic group to collect some of the traditions and homilies into what Ernst Haenchen thought of as a rudimentary, written Gospel.17 What motivated him to do this? Had he got at least a glimpse of the Gospel of Mark (cf. Lindars’s suggestion regarding what he terms the first edition of John’s Gospel)?18 Or are we to consider the possibility that the Gospel form emerged independently at two junctures in early Christian history? Here we are, I think, in the shadows. In any case, already within the early period, one of the Christian Jews of the inner-synagogue group seems to have penned a document similar, I believe, to the Signs Source or Signs Gospel, which in our time has been spoken of and investigated, to some degree independently 16. See R. E. Brown, “Jesus and Elisha,” in Perspective 12 (1971), 85–104, especially 97. 17. Haenchen’s actual words are “What Bultmann called the ‘Signs Source’ can very well have been the gospel of this community: a sort of rudimentary Gospel of Mark. . . .”; Aus der Literatur zum Johannesevangelium 1929–1956, in ThR 23 (1955), 295–335; see 303. It may also be pertinent to recall that Haenchen identified as Jewish-Christian the miracle story underlying the first part of John 5; Johanneische Probleme, in ZThK 56 (1959), 19–54; see 48. 18. B. Lindars, Behind the Fourth Gospel, 12 f.: “It is likely that John had at least seen Mark.”

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of one another, by Rudolf Bultmann, Ernst Haenchen, Robert Fortna, Jürgen Becker, Nikolaus Walter, Willem Nicol, Günther Reim, and Moody Smith.19 This Signs Source or Signs Gospel was precisely “an essay in Christology,” which, far from terminating the further formation of oral homilies, clearly now served the author and his preaching colleagues in the task of proclamation. For our present concerns the importance of the Signs Source/Gospel lies, of course, in the fact that it affords the historian a glimpse of the messianic group as it lived in the community of the synagogue during the early period. Several notes of importance demand attention: 1. During this period the group’s evangelistic preaching seems to have met with considerable success. We may allow for some exaggeration, to be sure. Yet there seem to be genuine reflections of remarkable evangelization in 2:11, 4:53 (note particularly the expression “and he himself believed, and his whole house”), 6:14, etc.; and, by the same token, such dark and pessimistic logia as the one in 12:37 are to be assigned literarily to a later stage of the group’s history. In the early period the group saw that the Messiah who had come to his own was in fact being widely received among them. 2. It was remembered, to be sure, that in Jerusalem not all of the Messiah’s own had received him. Indeed the Johannine evangelists must surely have told the story of Jesus’ crucifixion in a way which included inculpating roles played by the authorities of the Jewish people. In recognizing this fact, we are reminded that the preaching of the Christian Gospel was always and everywhere scandalous and offensive. We may also assume, however, that the scandal was focused and accurately defined by midrashic demonstration that in the Messiah’s betrayal and death Scripture had been fulfilled.20 3. While we can scarcely be certain, it seems that this very early group had for the most part a relatively simple understanding of faith. The signs and the paradoxically scandalous and redemptive proclamation of the passion-resurrection led rather simply to faith, and there was only one level of faith.21 19. Bultmann, John, and D. Moody Smith, The Composition and Order of the Fourth Gospel: Bultmann’s Literary Theory (1965); E. Haenchen, the article cited above in note 17, and his commentary; R. T. Fortna, The Gospel of Signs, and a series of redaction-critical essays, the latest being “Christology in the Fourth Gospel: Redaction-Critical Perspectives,” in NTS 21 (1974–75), 489–504; Jürgen Becker, “Wunder und Christologie,” in NTS 16 (1969–70), 130–48; N. Walter, “Die Auslegung überlieferter Wunderezählungen im Johannes-Evangelium,” in Theologische Versuche 2 (1970), 93–107; W. Nicol, The Semmeia in the Fourth Gospel (1972); G. Reim, Studien zum alttestamentlichen Hintergrund des Johannesevangeliums (1974); D. Moody Smith, “The Milieu of the Johannine Miracle Source,” in Johannine Christianity (1984). 20. Cf. John 19:24, etc., and Fortna, The Gospel of Signs, 229 f. 21. That the author of the Signs Source had an understanding of the relationship between signs and faith which was rather different from that of the evangelist is suggested by most of the scholars listed above in note 19. See also Paul W. Meyer, “Seeing, Signs, and Sources in the Fourth Gospel,” in his forthcoming volume The Word in This World.

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4. I have already said that the group was made up altogether of Jews, probably bilingual, but clearly living within the theological, social, and cultural security of the synagogue. In this early period—a period which probably began before the Jewish war, as Moody Smith has recently argued22—the group experienced no social dislocation and felt relatively little alienation from their heritage.23 Here three points in particular demand attention: (a) If the group was “at home” within the synagogue, what was its stance toward Torah? The question is difficult to answer with both precision and certainty, but there are several factors which converge to suggest quite strongly that the group was Torah-observant. The traditions of this early period give not the slightest indication that this inner-synagogue group engaged in debates about the validity of Torah; form-critical analysis clearly shows that the references to breach of Sabbath in 5:9, 10, 16, 18, and in 9:14, 16 belong to the later strata, and the same is to be said of the discussion of circumcision and of breach of Sabbath in 7:22 ff. Moreover, as we shall shortly see, the group’s later exit from the synagogue provides pertinent evidence which points to the conclusion that its members were Torah-observant Jews. It is clear that they desired to remain within the synagogue; their exit was in fact a traumatic expulsion carried out against their will (contrast, for example, Acts 18:6 f.). One does not have the impression of a group which even dreamed of being free from Torah observance. And on what grounds did the authorities expel them? Not on the grounds that the group was lax with regard to Torah observance per se, but rather only on the grounds of their messianic confession of Jesus (9:22, etc.). One is reminded that the Birkath ha-Minim seems to have been directed against the confession of Jesus as Messiah, not against discrete breach of Torah.24 One thinks furthermore of the witness given by the Jewish-Christian author of the “Ascents of James” who says that his community differs from the unbelieving Jews in one regard only: the confession of Jesus as the Christ.25 And finally one is put in mind of numerous references to law-observant Jewish Christians in the Acts of the Apostles. Note in particular the words which Luke allows the elders of the Jerusalem church to speak to Paul: You see, brother, how many thousands there are among the Jews of those who have believed; they are all zealous for the law. . . . (Acts 21:20) 22. D. Moody Smith, “Johannine Christianity: Some Reflections on Its Character and Delineation,” in NTS 21 (1974–75), 222–48, especially 246. 23. Those readers who were in attendance at the (1975) Journées Bibliques will recall that this statement elicited some rather spirited disagreement. In what now follows I am responding to the questions raised. 24. See chap. 2 in this volume. 25. Clementine Recognitions 1, 43. 2; B. Rehm, Die Pseudoklementimen II, Rekognitionen in Rufins Übersetzung, GCS, 51 (1965). For the source analysis of the Ascents of James see R. E. Van Voorst, The Ascents of James (1989); F. S. Jones, An Ancient Jewish Christian Source (1995).

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Whatever the precise stance toward Torah may have been in the case of Jesus,26 we have every reason to believe that numerous Jewish-Christian groups were quite observant of Torah. And the pertinent data in the Fourth Gospel indicate that in its early period the Johannine group was probably a case in point. (b) If the group was “at home” in the synagogue, what stance did it take toward the Gentile mission? Regarding this question the early strata in the Gospel are utterly silent. I see, in fact, no indication that in the early period the Johannine group even had any knowledge of the mission to the Gentiles. To be sure, one must bear in mind that this period stretched from a relatively early date to some point in the 80s. That fact alone may be judged as sufficient grounds for concluding that the group knew of the Gentile mission. Could Christians in any locale and of any sort have lived into the 80s ignorant of that momentous and vigorously debated development? Nevertheless, it is the marks of the vigorous debate which are most notably absent. As is always the case, one must exercise great caution in the interpretation of silence. I shall only suggest that whatever the Johannine group knew of the mission among the Gentiles, it would seem that they somehow managed to avoid being drawn into debates about it. And that suggestion brings us back to the major point: In the early period the group experienced no social dislocation and felt little alienation from their Jewish heritage. (c) One is not surprised, therefore, to observe that in the strata pertinent to the early period there are no notes of dualism27 and no indications of world-foreignness. I have already pointed out that Jesus’ crucifixion, with its midrashic explication, served to focus the offensive character of the good news. It must have been recognized that the Gospel—even this Gospel of the circumcision—was not an announcement of the continuation of “life as usual.” On the contrary, God’s longawaited, eschatological prophet-Messiah had come to grant genuinely new deliverance to his people. We must also note, however, that the Johannine evangelists seem clearly to have proclaimed the “new” without introducing such radical categories of discontinuity as are associated with dualism and world-foreignness. In the early strata Jesus himself, far from being a stranger, is quite plainly the expected Jewish Messiah. Correspondingly, the early homily and the Signs Gospel itself indicate no feelings of suspicion, fear, or hostility toward the messianic group on the part of the Jewish authorities. In short, however theologically revolutionary their message must have been, the group was able to view the synagogue as the primary expression of the properly ordered kosmos. 26. It is of course a non sequitur to argue that the Johannine group’s attitude toward Torah must have been such and such because Jesus’ attitude was such and such. We must proceed on the basis of data in the Fourth Gospel. 27. Cf. J. Becker, “Beobachtungen zum Dualismus im Johannesevangelium,” in ZNW 65 (1974), 71–87, an attempt to show that the Johannine dualism had a history of development within the Johannine community: “The thinking characteristic of the earliest phase is predualistic” (85).

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5. I have referred above to the Signs Gospel as an essay in Christology. In fact, its massive concentration on the Christology of the miracle worker produced a picture of the Messiah so numinous that that picture was destined in time to assume the proportions of “God striding across the face of the earth.”28 In the early period, however, there seems to have been no fear that such a Christology could pose a threat to monotheism. On the contrary, we see in this period only a group of Christian Jews29 who stand in a relatively untroubled stream of social and theological continuity precisely within the synagogue. 2. The Middle Period Part of the Group Is Born as a Separate Community by Experiencing Two Major Traumas: Excommunication from the Synagogue and Martyrdom In the course of the middle period there were momentous developments and alterations, both in the group’s setting and within the group itself. The history of the Johannine tradition is particularly revealing here, for in contrast to the relatively tranquil waters which lie behind the earliest homily and the Signs Gospel, one sees reflected in the next stages of tradition rather complex and stormy seas. The middle period is marked off, indeed, by the fact that the authorities now began to be quite suspicious of the rapidly growing messianic group, and both they and some rank-and-file synagogue members demanded that the group prove the validity of its messianic proclamation on the basis of exegesis. There ensued a number of midrashic debates, and in the course of the debates there emerged a widening spectrum of opinion about the group’s message, ranging from absolute commitment (6:68) to partial faith (2:23 ff., etc.) to outright unbelief (7:12, 47, etc.).30 And beyond such sobering developments lay two major traumas suffered by the messianic group and rather clearly reflected in dramatic expansions of two of the earlier miracle stories. The First Trauma In the dramatic expansion of the story of the man born blind (John 9)—a dramatic expansion which may originally have been composed orally—we can see 28. The expression is derived, of course, from ones coined by F. C. Baur; E. Käsemann has suggestively revived the expression in our time. See, e.g., The Testament of Jesus, 8 f. (German ed., 22). 29. Here and later the reader will see that I have tried to grasp certain aspects of the history of the Johannine community by two means: a distinction between “group” and “community,” and a distinction between “Christian Jews” and “Jewish Christians.” The possibility that the Beloved Disciple was a historical person who played a role in the early period cannot be pursued in this essay. 30. It is not my intention to suggest that differences of opinion arose overnight in the middle period or that there was absolute unanimity in the early period.

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a clear reflection of the first trauma. Not far into the middle period the rapid growth of the messianic group caused the authorities not only to be suspicious, but also to take a radical step designed to terminate the flow of converts into the group. They introduced the reworded Birkath ha-Minim into the synagogue service in order to be able to identify and excommunicate those who confessed Jesus as Messiah (9:22, 34).31 From the logion of 12:42 and indeed from the role played by the blind man’s parents in chapter 9, it is clear that to a degree this step had the desired effect. Some of the members of the messianic group, and perhaps even more of those who were merely inclined toward the messianic faith, turned away from the confession in order to remain safely within the community of the synagogue. We shall return to these persons at a later point. Many members of the messianic group, however, paid the price of their convictions and suffered excommunication. From this point forward we may refer to these people, I think, as the Johannine community, for it is obvious that the outworking of the Birkath ha-Minim in the city in question changed the Johannine circle—against their will—from a messianic group within the synagogue into a separate community outside that social and theological setting. In this trauma the members suffered not only social dislocation but also great alienation, for the synagogue/world which had been their social and theological womb, affording nurture and security, was not only removed, but even became the enemy who persecutes. We may surmise that the roots of the dualistic patterns of thought and of the world-foreignness which came to full fruition only later are to be traced, in fact, to the sufferings of this middle period. The Second Trauma As I have said above, the use of the reworded Birkath ha-Minim narrowed the flow of converts, but it clearly did not terminate the flow altogether. The authorities therefore concluded that further restrictive measures were necessary, and in light of the Johannine community’s increasing tendency to view Jesus as a numinous and somewhat other-worldly figure, the authorities were apparently able to argue that confession of such a figure constituted not only unacceptable messianism, but also a violation of monotheism (5:18). In short, they were able not only to excommunicate those who confessed Jesus as Messiah, but also to arrest some of the evangelists from the separated community and to subject them to trial and, indeed to execution as Mesithim/Planoi (seducers), as ditheists who led other Jews into the worship of a second god alongside Adonai.32 31. See chap. 2 in this volume. 32. See chap. 3 in this volume. Note furthermore the use of the verb t‘ ’in the Syriac text of Clementine Recognitions i, 62.1; W. Frankenberg, Die syrischen Clementinen mit griechischen Paralleltext (1937).

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It is not difficult to see that this second trauma deepened the community’s fear and distrust. Johannine evangelists were now not only socially dislocated and alienated. They were also subjected to the possibility of being “snatched away” out of life (cf. 10:28 f.; 15:18). It is here that we may see what Wayne Meeks has suggestively termed a harmonic reinforcement between social experience and Christology.33 Expelled from the synagogue, the Johannine community was bound to search for a mature interpretation of the expulsion, and that search led it to new christological formulations. The logos hymn, for example, is probably to be assigned to this middle period, and its wording may very well reflect the rude awakening of the twin traumas: The Messiah came to his own world, and his own people did not receive him.34

The heilsgeschichtlich pattern of thought presupposed in the earlier christological trajectory from traditional expectations to their fulfillment in Jesus is now being significantly altered by the dualistic, above/below pattern. To be sure, the Messiah is none other than the eternal sophia-logos through whom God created all that is; yet after the two major traumas, the community began to perceive that he came to his own world/synagogue as the stranger from above.35 This perception may be reflected, moreover, in certain aspects of the Gospel’s theological geography. If Judea is the Messiah’s “native land,” the locus of those who were originally “his own,” and the place where his teaching 33. Wayne A. Meeks, “The Man from Heaven in Johannine Sectarianism,” idem, In Search of the Early Christians (2002). A similar point is made by David E. Aune, The Cultic Setting of Realized Eschatology in Early Christianity (note 2, page 145). Aune unfortunately takes the additional step, however, of repeatedly using expressions which suggest that the flow was unidirectional: from social experience to Christology. For example, “The Johannine Jesus was relevant for the faith and life of the community primarily because he was the personification and embodiment of the religious needs, values and aspirations of the community projected onto and superimposed over the historical Jesus” (101). Later on the same page: “ . . . the Johannine Jesus is in reality a reflection of the salvific needs and ideals of the community. . . .” One can easily imagine the Fourth Evangelist shuddering at such statements. Recall John 1:18, 3:13, 3:31–36, 6:44, etc. 34. The interpretation of John 1:11 is one of those points at which a hermeneutical rule attributed orally by E. Käsemann to W. Bauer is of crucial importance: Before one inquires into the author’s intention, he must ask how the first readers are likely to have understood the text. In light of the history of the Johannine community (not to mention the history of other communities as reflected in Mark 12:1–12 and Rom. 9:1 ff.), one may be virtually certain that the first readers and hearers understood John 1:11 as a reference to contemporary Jewish unbelief. The author of that verse took no steps to exclude this obvious interpretation. It follows that he probably intended it. (We may also note that he did not balance his reference to Jewish unbelief with a reference to the Gentile mission, as was done by the traditioners behind Mark 12:1–12, Luke 14:15–24, etc.) 35. Again I have borrowed a note from the uncommonly perceptive article by Wayne A. Meeks, “The Man from Heaven.” Cf. also E. Käsemann, The Testament of Jesus, 22: “ . . . the stranger from the world above. . . .”

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had to be given, then there may be considerable significance in the indications that it was impossible for Jesus to “remain” there. That is to say, the Johannine community, having found it impossible to remain in the synagogue, may have perceived a prefiguring of that development in the geography of the Messiah’s story.36 In any case, in the middle period the community began to take onto itself with increasing intensity the characteristics of the stranger from above.37 Socially, having been excommunicated and having subsequently experienced persecution to the death, they no longer find their origin and their intelligible point of departure in the synagogue and in its traditions. On the contrary, they, like their Christ, become people who are not “of the world” and who are for that reason hated by the world. In this process they cease, in fact, to be Christian Jews and become instead Jewish Christians. To express it theologically, they cease even to be “Jews” and become instead—like Nathanael—“truly Israelites” who now constitute the new “his own” because the stranger has come from above and has chosen them out of the world/synagogue. 3. The Late Period Movement toward Firm Social and Theological Configurations The history of the traditions and of the literary activity proper to the late period brings us not only to further homilies, but also to the climactic writing of the fully Johannine Gospel in its first and second editions.38 The period also finds the Johannine community forming its own theology and its own identity not only vis-à-vis the parent synagogue, but also in relation to other Christian groups in its setting.39 The period is, thus, extraordinarily rich and complex, and could easily form in its own right the subject for several essays. Because of the present need for brevity, I shall concentrate attention in the remaining space on three expressions, the first of which reaches back into the middle period, and the other two of which appear to be significantly revealing of developments during this late period. The three expressions are: 1. the disciples of Moses (9:28); 2. the Jews who had believed in him (8:31); 3. the other sheep (10:16). 36. The interpretation of John 4:44 is notoriously difficult. See Brown, John, ad loc. and contrast R. T. Fortna, “Theological Use of Locale in the Fourth Gospel,” in ATR Suppl. Series 3 (1974), 94–112. 37. Again cf. both Meeks and Aune as cited on page 156 above in note 33. 38. Cf. the five-stage analysis made by Brown as cited on page 145 above in note 1. Contrary to Lindars’s own opinion I find his analysis of two major editions to be quite harmonious with the hypothesis of a Signs Source/Gospel: Lindars, John, 46 ff. 39. Cf. R. E. Brown, “Other Sheep Not of This Fold: The Johannine Perspective on Christian Diversity in the Late First Century,” JBL 97 (1978), 5–22.

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1. The Disciples of Moses One scarcely needs to emphasize the importance of the term “disciples” for our attempts to discern the community behind the Gospel. In fact, not only significant aspects of the community’s life in general, but also glimpses of the history of the community are revealed in the ways in which this term is employed in the various strata. In the earliest evangelistic sermons and in the Signs Gospel, where the term seems to have been employed a number of times, the word “disciples” was apparently used in only two formulations: “disciples of John” and “disciples of Jesus.” Moreover, the role of the disciples of John was quite clear. They were on stage, so to speak, in order to become disciples of Jesus, in order to exemplify the movement which persons experienced by becoming disciples of Jesus. That movement was characterized, as we have already seen, by simple and largely unquestioned continuity. Jesus was the prophet-Messiah foretold by Moses (1:45). Hence, while one who became a disciple of Jesus would cease actively to be a disciple of the Baptist, he would nevertheless move along a line which stands in unquestioned continuity with the witness and writings of Moses. Far from abandoning Moses, he would simply have attached himself to the one of whom Moses wrote. In the middle period, as we have noted, that simple and unquestioned heilsgeschichtlich continuity was decisively shattered. In the face of numerous conversions within the synagogue, the Jewish authorities felt that they had to take drastic steps. Quite naturally, these repressive steps had ultimately to be based on Moses, and that fact led the authorities to combine their use of the Birkath ha-Minim with a midrashic attack. This combination, in turn, led to a startlingly new “either . . . or.” In the excommunication drama of John 9, when the Jews are asked by the formerly blind man whether they wish to become disciples of Jesus, they answer angrily, “You are his disciple; but we are disciples of Moses.” (9:28)

In the middle period in which this drama was formulated, the authorities obviously laid down a new dictum. Either one is a loyal disciple of Moses, remaining true to the ancient Jewish community, or one has become a disciple of Jesus, thereby ceasing to be a disciple of Moses. To the original, inner-synagogue group of Christian Jews, who knew Jesus to be the one of whom Moses wrote, this formulation must have come as a great shock. It is clear, however, that before long the shock would have not only to be endured, but also to be interpreted. What is the true meaning of this newly formulated “either . . . or”? It is quite clear that the members of the original group of Christian Jews did not all perceive the new “either . . . or” in the same way, and correspondingly their experiences of it and the stances they developed toward it were rather var-

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ied. It hardly needs to be said once again that the Johannine community experienced it in the form of excommunication. It is equally clear, as I have also said earlier, that the same was not true of all members of the original messianic group. Some managed to remain within the bosom of the synagogue by presenting themselves in public as disciples of Moses and children of Abraham, while considering themselves in private to be also disciples of Jesus. A Johannine logion probably to be assigned to the middle period refers to these people as persons who have believed in Jesus, but who, in order to avoid excommunication, refused to make a public confession of that belief (12:42). And in another logion (6:66) one hears similarly that many of the original messianic group “turned back” and did not keep the kind of social company which would make their confession public. Perhaps we may refer to these people as believing Jews who wish to remain Christian Jews, but who are determined to do so in secret. Such a suggestion leads us to take up the next expression. 2. The Jews Who Had Believed in Him With this expression we return to the late period, for it occurs in a homily (8:31 ff.) which was probably composed in that period. The modern critical judgment to delete the words “the Jews who had believed in him” as a gloss40 has no manuscript support, and may be in fact one of the numerous judgments which reflect our generally inadequate knowledge of the varieties of Christian Jews and Jewish Christians in the period after 70 C.E. Bearing in mind a pregnant suggestion made in 1932 by E. Schwartz to the effect that the Johannine polemic often becomes understandable as a reaction against some form of Jewish Christianity, we may proceed not by deleting the troublesome phrase, but by inquiring for the precise identity of these Jews who have for some time believed in Jesus.41 It is a distinct service of C. H. Dodd to have made a strong case for the thesis that the evangelist refers here to Jewish Christians of his own time,42 but Dodd’s thesis needs also to be strengthened and in various regards corrected.43 40. After incorrectly crediting Dodd and Brown with this view, Lindars states it as his own: John, ad loc., and Behind the Fourth Gospel, 80. Dodd’s argument was constructed by accepting the text as it stands (see note 42 below); Brown suggested that verse 31 and the troublesome phrase in verse 32 be allotted to the final redactor: John, ad loc. 41. E. Schwartz, “Unzeitgemässe Beobachtungen zu den Clementinem,” in ZNW 31 (1932), 191. 42. C. H. Dodd, “A l’arrière-plan d’un dialogue johannique,” in Revue d’histoire et de philosophie religieuses 37 (1957), 5–17; “Behind a Johannine Dialogue,” in More New Testament Studies (1968), 41–57. 43. See particularly Rudolf Schnackenburg, Das Johannesevangelium 2 (1971) 258 ff.; Bruce Schein, Our Father Abraham, Yale Dissertation, Ann Arbor, Michigan (microfilm), 1972; Gilbert Bartholomew, An Early Christian Sermon-Drama: John 8:31–59, Columbia University–Union Theological Seminary Dissertation, Ann Arbor, Michigan (microfilm), 1974.

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From the description of Jesus’ interlocutors, and from the mouths of the interlocutors themselves, there are numerous indications that they represent, in fact, not Jewish Christians, but rather Christian Jews who wish proudly to hold some sort of dual allegiance. Let me mention five observations: 1. One must reiterate the straightforward identification in verse 31 which finds, as Dodd showed, significant parallels in instances in Acts where the perfect participle of “to believe” emerges. One of these has already commanded our attention: “those among the Jews who had believed” (21:20). Note, moreover, the syntax of the expression in John 8:31; here the participle “those who had believed” is adjectival, merely modifying the noun “the Jews.” 2. These people characterize themselves as “descendants of Abraham” (vv. 33 and 39). While this designation could be claimed by any Jew, the group’s identification in verse 31 as “the Jews who had believed in him” should remind us of the evidence in Paul’s letters suggesting that the expression “descendants of Abraham” was used as a self-designation among early Christian Jews (2 Cor. 11:22; cf. Gal. 3:6–29).44 3. It follows easily that in John 8 this self-designation may have had at least two points of reference. The interlocutors could have linked their existence as Christians with being “descendants of Abraham” but antecedently they are descendants of Abraham precisely because they are Jews. Perhaps they would be happy to call themselves “descendants of Abraham” particularly because it could be a phrase with ambiguity. To the ears of the Jewish authorities it would mean only that those who use it are loyal Jews, while to the users themselves it could also be a secret expression of their Christian inclinations. In any case, when the issue of freedom arises, they proudly call on their blood descendance from Abraham to show that they have never been enslaved. Impressed as they are with Jesus’ word (v. 30), they do not need it to make them free. 4. One notes also their proud and indeed polemical claim to the inheritance of monotheism. Others may move in the direction of a Christology which approaches ditheism, a form of apostasy from Adonai, symbolized as being born of fornication and adultery.45 They emphatically remain monotheists, as the syntax of verse 41b makes clear: “We have one father: God.” 5. But we may note that, at least initially, it appears to be only the high Christology, and only the absolute claims for Christ, which are offensive to these Christian Jews. For them Jesus may be allowed to stand within Heilsgeschichte, within the prophetic line, and while that means that he is not greater than Abraham and the prophets (v. 53), it nevertheless means that he is to be affirmed along with them. At some point these Christian Jews have desired to take their stand both on their Jewish descent and on Jesus’ word. 44. See the pertinent discussion in the work of B. Schein as cited in the preceding note. 45. Note the comments to John 8:41 made by Brown, John.

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This intention to hold a dual allegiance seems, moreover, to be clearly reflected in the polemic formulated by the Johannine preacher responsible for this homily. Formal analysis of his sermon shows that both of the first two major sections begin with a highly emphatic reference to Jesus’ word (vv. 31 and 37). Verse 31. The expression “in my word” not only employs the emphatic pronoun, but also stands syntactically in the emphatic position. Given the context, one might paraphrase the protasis: If you take a constant stand absolutely in my word . . .

And the apodosis significantly employs the verb “truly” which is nowhere else linked with the construction “to be disciples.” Thus, a further paraphrase: You Jews who have believed in me! If you take a constant stand absolutely in my word, you are truly my disciples. . . .

What would seem to be the alternative? Either to take one’s stand in the word of someone else—an interpretation which would conflict with verse 30—or to attempt, as I have just suggested, to stand simultaneously and more or less equally in the words of Jesus and in the words of another teacher. In that case, implies the preacher, one is not truly a disciple of Jesus. It is here, indeed, that we catch a clear glimpse of the community’s considered interpretation—in the late period—of the “either . . . or” formulated some time earlier by the Jewish authorities. Shocked as the Johannine community must initially have been to hear it said that one must be either a disciple of Moses or a disciple of Jesus, they necessarily had eventually to interpret that formulation not only in the light of their own heritage from ancient Israel, but also in the light of the behavior of their former colleagues who, in view of the threat of excommunication, tried secretly to maintain a dual allegiance. Given this latter development, the Johannine community perceived that Jesus’ word had to be granted absolute priority, and that only on the basis of his word could one understand the witness borne to him by the Fathers. Thus it was that the Johannine preacher heard Jesus declare with divine solemnity: Before Abraham was, I am. (8:58)

In place of the heilgeschichtlich Christology “from behind,”46 we now find the full emergence of the dualistic Christology “from above.” Indeed, the initially shocking “either . . . or,” formulated so polemically by the Jewish 46. For this suggestive expression I am indebted to Dr. Adriaan Krijger, a pastor-theologian in The Hague and one of my stimulating colleagues during an unforgettable period at the Ecumenical Institute for Advanced Theological Studies in Jerusalem, 1974–75.

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authorities, is now turned back on them and on the so-called Christian Jews by being interpreted quite radically in dualistic terms. From the point of view of the Johannine community it is quite insufficient to say that one is either a disciple of Moses or a disciple of Jesus. Rather one is either from above—from God—or one is from below—from the devil. Verse 37. Here the believing Jews, the “descendants of Abraham,” are said to have taken the wrong path as a result of the fact that “my word finds no room among you.” It is in this second section that “the Jews who had believed in him” prove to be fundamentally undistinguishable from “the Jews” in general, in preparation for verse 48 where they are, in fact, so identified. But ex hypothesi this means only that, from the point of view of the separated Johannine community, the attempt on the part of these secret believers, these so-called Christian Jews, to straddle the fence is wholly unsuccessful; their attempt constitutes, in fact, what Wayne Meeks has correctly characterized as a diabolic lie.47 Because they do not take their stand absolutely in the word of Jesus, they only prove that his word does not have any place at all among them, and that in the final analysis they are not “the Jews who had believed in him,” but merely “the Jews.” Theologically it is therefore no cause for surprise to the Johannine community when these former colleagues of theirs turn out to be horribly instrumental in the martyrdom of some of the Johannine evangelists, presumably by functioning as informers intent on preserving monotheism (vv. 37, 40, 44, 59). In the present context I cannot offer further analysis. I can only summarize by suggesting that together with 2:23 ff., 11:46, and 12:42, the homily of 8:31 ff. forms one of several references to a group whose distinct identity emerged in the late period, and whom, following the syntax of 8:31, we ought carefully to characterize not as Jewish Christians, but rather as Christian Jews. Indeed, in light of the foregoing analysis, one might suggest a final paraphrase of 8:31 as follows: Jesus then said to those who understood themselves to be Christian Jews: If you take a constant stand absolutely in my word, you will be genuinely liberated as Jewish Christians.

The point is that with the emergence in the late period of this group of Christian Jews, the social configuration in which the Johannine community finds itself is not completely grasped when one speaks of the polarity vis-à-vis the parent synagogue. The social configuration is more complex; it is at least trilateral, involving first the parent synagogue, second the group of secretly Christian Jews who have been able to remain within the synagogue, and third the 47. Meeks, “The Man from Heaven” (note 33, page 156), 69.

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separated Johannine community, a community made up almost wholly of Jewish Christians (also a few Samaritan Christians48). Our last question is whether even this trilateral configuration is adequate as a representation of the social complexity of the late period. And the posing of this question leads us finally to the expression in 10:16. 3. The Other Sheep Aside from chapter 10 the word “sheep” occurs in the Fourth Gospel only four times—twice in the pericope of the Temple cleansing and twice in chapter 21. In chapter 10 it occurs no less than fifteen times, and it is obviously used in ways which are quite revealing as regards the history of the Johannine community. Notice first that the word is distributed throughout most of chapter 10. In the parables at the opening of the chapter (vv. 1–5) the word “sheep” appears five times, and in the explanations which follow these parables the word appears another seven times. Finally, leaving aside verse 16 for the moment, the word emerges twice more in verses 26 and 27. In all fourteen instances the primary reference is quite clear. The sheep stand in the first instance for the Johannine community. a. It is they who hear the voice of the Good Shepherd and who follow him; and it is they whom he calls by name. b. It is they who flee from alternative shepherds and who refuse to listen to them because they do not recognize the voices of those shepherds. c. It is they whose lives are threatened by the wolf when he comes to snatch them away and to scatter them; and it is they who, when they are thus endangered, are abandoned by the hired hand, who chooses to avoid the possibility of his own death by leaving the community behind. d. And, finally, it is they who receive the absolute assurance from the Good Shepherd that, however threatened they may be, no one will ever be able actually to snatch them out of his hand or out of the hand of his Father. I should not want to claim that it is the only viable interpretation, but in light of the history of the Johannine community which has emerged in the foregoing analyses, I am led at least to suggest that the parables and their interpretations must be taken together as an allegory, in the reading of which those who were initiates by virtue of having shared a common history—that is to say, the members of the Johannine community—would easily recognize the following representations: 48. On the whole I find convincing the interpretation of John 4:10–15 offered by H. Leroy, Rätsel und Missverständnis (1968), 88–99. See the review by R. E. Brown, in Biblica 51 (1970), 152–54.

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1. the sheep

stand for the Johannine community.

2. strangers thieves robbers the wolf

stand for the Jewish authorities (“the Pharisees” of chapter 9) who in fact kill, destroy, snatch away, and scatter the Johannine community.

3. hireling

may stand for the secretly believing “rulers” who avoid the possibility of their own execution by abandoning the Johannine community when it is endangered.

4. The Good Shepherd

stands for Jesus, as he is active through Johannine evangelists who are prepared to face martyrdom for the community and who both receive and transmit this absolute assurance that, however threatening the Jewish authorities may become, they shall never be able to snatch any member of the community out of the hands of Jesus and of the Father.

We come now to verse 16. If we accept the wording of papyrus 66, the text reads: And I have other sheep, that are not of this fold. I must gather them also, and they will heed my voice, and there will be one flock, one shepherd.

The problems are numerous. In the present setting we can consider only one: Who are the “other sheep”? The dominant answer, given by Bultmann, Barrett, Schnackenburg, Brown, and Lindars, is to identify the “other sheep” as Gentiles who will believe as a result of the Gentile mission.49 In light of the common opinion of these five exegetes, the least one can say is that this interpretation may be correct. There are, however, certain factors which indicate a different interpretation, as Hans Joachim Schoeps suggested a number of years ago, and as H. B. Kossen has more recently suggested, apparently without being influenced by the views of Schoeps.50 Could it be that the other sheep are Jewish Christians belonging to conventicles known to but separate from the Johannine community? Let us 49. See the commentaries of these scholars, ad loc. 50. H. J. Schoeps, Jewish Christianity (1969), 131; H. B. Kossen, “Who Were the Greeks of John XII 20?” in Studies in John (1970), 97–110, especially 107 f. Cf. also M. L. Appold, The Oneness Motif in the Fourth Gospel (1976), 11, 262 ff.

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return to the text, taking it one clause at a time. Several points seem either quite clear or at least probable: 1. “I have other sheep” These other sheep already exist. The reader or hearer is simply informed of their existence. 2. “that are not of this fold” How will the Johannine community have understood “this fold”? Up to this point in chapter 10 every reference to sheep has been a reference to them. It is their community, therefore, which is “this fold.” 3. “I must gather (or lead) them also” We cannot be sure of the text, of course, but I think the motif of unification which is so strong in the last clause of the verse provides weighty support for the reading of P66.51 One may also note that P66 preserved, almost alone, the correct reading in John 7:52. I shall return to the interpretation of this clause. 4. “and they will heed my voice, and there will be one flock, one shepherd.” The prophecies with which the verse closes strongly emphasize unification. The gathering of the “other sheep” will lead to there being one flock under one shepherd. We may take our bearings, I think, from this emphatic prophecy of unification, which is obviously the goal of the entire logion. And that leads us, as regards the identity of the other sheep, to return to the clause, “I must gather them also.” Why, we may ask, should there be such an emphasis on unification, and why for the sake of the unification must the other sheep be gathered? The obvious answer is that they have been scattered. Are there indications that such is, in fact, the case? The posing of this question takes us first to John 11:52, for that verse—the ironic prophecy of Caiaphas—is very closely bound to 10:16 by these same two motifs: unification, and the gathering which leads to unification. The important point to notice is that 11:52 also contains the word “scatter abroad” in the expression “the children of God who are scattered abroad.” If one takes seriously all of the elements of 11:52 and their deep roots in both the traumas and the hopes of exilic and postexilic Judaism, he may be led to the following 51. For the contrary judgment see Schnackenburg, John, ad loc.; by implication W. A. Meeks accepted the reading of P66: Prophet-King, 318n: “ . . . the reference in 10:16 about ‘other sheep’ which must be ‘gathered’ . . . .”

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interpretation: The high priest of all Jews is made to prophesy that Jesus will die in behalf of the Jewish nation both in its homeland and in its scattering, its dispersion.52 Now, returning to John 10, we note, interestingly enough, the presence of the verb “scatter” in verse 12. In the picture of the wolf, the Johannine community is reminded that the Jewish authorities scatter those who are the sheep of the Good Shepherd. To what, precisely, does this refer? In all probability it is a Johannine reinterpretation of the widespread and classic motif of Jewish dispersion. In the experience of the Johannine community the scattering of the sheep occurred when the Birkath ha-Minim was imposed in their city. It seems probable, however, that under Jamnian authority the Birkath haMinim was in fact introduced over a wide geographical area.53 It follows, I think, that the portrait of the “other sheep” is drawn in such a way as to refer primarily to other Jewish Christians who, like those of the Johannine community, have been scattered from their parent synagogues by experiencing excommunication. It is, then, a vision of the Johannine community that the day will come when all of the conventicles of scattered Jewish Christians will be gathered into one flock under the one Good Shepherd. If these interpretative suggestions have some merit, we may conclude this rather brief and fragmentary historical sketch by suggesting that by the time the Fourth Gospel itself was written, the social and theological configuration in which the Johannine community found itself was in fact not trilateral but rather at least quadrilateral: 1. We see, first, of course, the Johannine community. 2. We see, second, that the Johannine community is sharply differentiated from the parent synagogue, to the point, in fact, of being polarized with a break52. Interpretative opinion on John 11:52 is sharply divided. W. C. van Unnik, J. A. T. Robinson, A. F. J. Klijn, and L. van Hartingsveld read the verse very much as I have suggested (bibliographical data given on 106 of the article by H. B. Kossen cited above on page 164 in note 50). C. K. Barrett, R. Schnackenburg, and R. E. Brown, on the other hand, represent commentators who argue for a reference to the Gentile mission. It seems to me that Schnackenburg and Brown do not read the verse in its own right, but rather interpret it against its grain because they have already judged 10:16 to contain a reference to the Gentile mission. 53. The Birkath ha-Minim was one of the “ordinances” issued from Jamnia. On the ordinances in general see J. Neusner, A Life of Rabban Yohanan Ben Zakkai (1962), 155 ff.; Neusner, Development of a Legend (1970), 206 ff.; J. Goldin, “The Period of the Talmud” in vol. 1 of L. Finkelstein, ed., The Jews: Their History, Culture, and Religion (1949). To make decisions regarding the synagogue liturgy was one of the major prerogatives claimed by the Jamnia academy in its attempt to supply stability and cohesiveness in the postwar period, and Berakoth 28b (cf. j. Berakoth 8a) explicitly identifies the Birkath ha-Minim as one of the stabilizing ordinances. It is true that the claims to authority made by the Jamnia academy were resented in some quarters, but the specific ordinances known to us seem generally to have been recognized. See in the present volume 57–66, and Justin, Dialogue 16 and 17, cf. Eusebius, H.E. iv, 18, 7.

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down in communication—John 3:11 and 15:18 ff. The synagogue and its “Jews” form the clearest representation of the alien “world.” 3. We see, third, that the community is, if anything, even more sharply differentiated and alienated from a group of so-called Christian Jews who remain within the synagogue—John 8:31 ff. and 12:42—and who are therefore “of this world.” 4. But we see also, fourth, that the Johannine community is aware of the existence of other communities of Jewish Christians who have also suffered excommunication and with whom there is the hope of unification.54 One final word. To most interpreters, John 7:35 and 12:20 are clear references to Greeks who will come to believe via the Gentile mission;55 similarly the title accorded to Jesus by the Samaritans—Savior of the world—is thought to indicate a vision of universality; and in any case there can be no doubt that the picture of Peter in chapter 21 as shepherd and (Roman?) martyr—to say nothing of data in the Johannine epistles pertinent to the development of “early Catholicism”—indicates a relationship with the emerging “great Church” which lives on the frontier of the Gentile mission. It remains to be said, however, that if the quadrilateral picture of social and theological relationships which I have just sketched is accurate, and if the earlier glimpses I have offered are generally valid, then the history of the Johannine community from its origin through the period of its life in which the Fourth Gospel was composed forms to no small extent a chapter in the history of Jewish Christianity.56

54. Concerning the number of groups in the Johannine purview see also R. E. Brown, “Other Sheep” (page 157, note 39 above). 55. See, as examples, Schnackenburg, John 2; Teil, ad loc.; Brown, John, lxxvii f. and ad loc. 56. See Martyn, “A Gentile Mission That Replaced an Earlier Jewish Mission?” in Exploring the Gospel of John: In Honor of D. Moody Smith (ed. R. A. Culpepper and C. Clifton Black, 1996).

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INDEX OF ANCIENT SOURCES

HEBREW BIBLE Exodus 4:20 107 16:4 107 20:21 106 Numbers 24:15–17 24:17

106 107 n.162

18:18 f. 33:8–11

106 81 n.110, 96 n.141 83 81 n.110 104, 105, 106–7, 108, 113 n.176, 125 105, 106–7, 108, 125 106 106

Psalms 3:19 52:16 74:9 78:25

48 107 105 122

18:18

Ecclesiastes 10:5 Isaiah 35 35:5 f.

41 n.28

95 95

107 n.164 149

Daniel 7 131, 131–32 n.202 7:13 132 7:13 f. 133 7:14 132 Joel 4:18

Deuteronomy 5:28f. 13 13:6 ff. 13:9 18:15

40:55 51:15

Micah 5:1–3 Zechariah 9:9

107

12

107

NEW TESTAMENT Matthew 9:27–31 35 n.7 12:23 96 n.143 18:15 ff. 131 n.199 20:29–34 35 n.7 22:7 131 n.199 27 80 27:62 79 n.104 27:62–66 79 27:63 80 Mark 1:22 2:3 2:6–10 2:11 2:12a

118 35 36 n.11 36 36

2:12b 3:1–5 3:2 3:6 6:2 6:37 8:4 8:22–26 8:31 9:38 10:46–52 11:18 12:1–12 12:2 12:12 13 14:1 Luke 5:17 6:22 12:8 13:10–17 13:15 13:31 14:15–24 18:35–43 20:19

36 73 42 n.34 73, 74 118 119 n.185 119 n.185 35 n.7 129 41 n.26 35 n.7 79 n.103 156 n.34 79 n.103 84 96 n.141 79 n.103

21:12

36 n.11 55, 56 n.63 134 37 n.16 74 17 156 n.34 35 n.7 79 n.103, 84 n.116 84 n.116

John 1:1 1:11 1:14

135 79, 156 n.34 142

170 John (continued) 1:17 92, 103 1:18102, 126 n.191, 156 n.33 1:19 37 n.17 1:19–5:47 72 n.92 1:24 37 n.17 1:35 147 n.9 1:35 ff. 148 1:35–51 92 1:35–49 92, 147, 149, 150 1:39 148 1:19–34 147 n.9 1:4169, 91, 92, 93, 103, 148 1:43 148, 149 1:45 69, 103, 148, 158 1:46 148 1:47 148 1:48c 149 1:49 69, 147 n.9 1:50 147 n.9 1:51 133, 138, 147 n.9 2:11 151 2:14 109 2:21–22 12 2:23 93 2:23 f. 154 2:23 ff. 162 2:24 94 3 88 n.126, 117 n.181 3:1 88 3:1 ff. 125 3:2 64, 65, 113, 117, 126 3:3 102, 117 3:3 f. 80 n.106 3:4 117, 126 3:5 118 3:9 118, 126 3:10 f. 118

Index of Ancient Sources 3:1138 n.20, 113, 141, 167 3:12 133 3:13 102, 126, 133, 135, 138, 156 n.33 3:14 103, 115, 116, 125, 126, 129, 133, 135 3:18 141 3:19 141 3:31–36 102, 156 n.33 4 28, 36 n.14, 109, 128 n.194 4:4 ff. 125 n.190 4:10 79 4:10–15 163 n.48 4:13 109 4:19 116 4:25 91, 92, 93, 116 4:29 92 4:44 157 4:46 72 4:46–54 32, 72 n.91 4:53 151 4:48 94, 94 n.137 5 21, 72, 74, 75, 79, 84, 85, 91, 109 n.171 5–7 72 5–6–7 76 n.100 5:1 72 5:1–9 32 5:1–18 38, 72–76 5:1–7:52 72 n.92 5:2–9b 72, 73 5:5 73 5:8 73 5:9 152 5:9a–b 73 5:9b–18 73 n.95 5:9c 73 5:9c–13 73 5:10 37, 101, 152 5:12 75 5:14 73, 74, 148

5:15 5:15–18 5:16

73 73 n.85 42 n.34, 73–74, 152 5:16–18 73 5:16–47 73 5:17 74 5:18 21, 42 n.34, 72, 74, 77, 83, 119, 152, 155 5:18b 75 5:19–47 76, 119, 119 n.184 5:21 119 n.184 5:22 f. 119 n.184 5:25 79 5:27 133, 134 5:27a 132 5:27b 132 5:39 101, 102 n.152, 103 5:45 f. 102 5:46 103, 125 5:46 f. 44 n.39 6 72, 111 n.174, 119, 120, 122 n.188, 127 n.192 6:1 76 6:1 ff. 125 6:1–14 109 6:2 93 6:4 116 6:5 119 6:5–14 120 6:5–15 120 6:6 119 n.185 6:14 93, 104, 110, 116, 120, 121, 126, 127 n.192, 151 6:14–15 111 6:15 94, 110, 120 6:16–21 120 6:22–25 120 6:25–59 70 6:26 94, 121

Index of Ancient Sources 6:26–71 120 6:27 120, 125, 127, 133 6:30 f. 104, 111, 126 6:31 f. 122 6:32 121 6:35 125, 127 6:36 125 6:37 44 n.41 6:38 125, 127 6:41 122 n.188 6:41–59 119 6:42a 120 6:42b 120 6:44 148, 156 n.33 6:51 ff. 69 n.88 6:51b–59 139 n.219 6:53 127, 133 6:54 139 n.219 6:58 115, 116 6:60 122 n.188 6:60–71 70, 119 6:62 133, 135, 139 n.219 6:63 94, 139 n.219 6:65 148 6:66 159 6:68 119, 154 6:68–69 120 7 72, 76–83, 84, 85, 88 n.126, 91, 92, 109 n.171 7:1 76, 77 7:1 ff. 76–77 7:1–13 77 7:12 77, 78, 80, 154 7:15 118 7:16 141 7:16 f. 118 7:19 101 7:21 118 7:22 ff. 152 7:23 42 n.34, 101, 103 7:25 ff. 125 7:26 87, 88, 118 7:30 84

171 7:31 7:31 f. 7:31 ff. 7:32 7:32–36 7:33 7:35 7:37 f. 7:38 7:38–40 7:40 7:40 ff. 7:40–41 7:40–42 7:40–43 7:40–52 7:41 7:42 7:43 7:44 7:45 7:45 ff. 7:45–52 7:47 7:47 ff. 7:48 7:49 7:51 7:52

7:52a 8 8:12 8:13 8:14 8:19 8:21–24 8:28 8:30 8:31

92, 93, 96 n.143, 104, 110–11, 127 85 77 87 41 n.27 39 167 109 79, 107 n.166 125 110, 127 111, 112 111 12 111 91 104 127 78 78 87 87 84 n.115 77, 85 n.117, 154 78 88–89, 112 101, 102 n.150 78 102 n.152, 104, 111 n.174, 112, 113, 127, 165 64, 65 28, 160 40, 127 127 141 141 136 n.216 127, 133, 136 n.216 160, 161 157, 159 n.40, 160, 161, 162

8:31 ff.

147 n.9, 159, 162, 167 8:32 159 n.40 8:33 160 8:37 161, 162 8:39 160 8:40 162 8:41 160 n.45 8:41b 160 8:42 141 8:44 162 8:48 79, 162 8:53 160 8:58 161 8:59 162 9 8, 20, 35, 36, 37 n.16, 38, 40 n.23, 41 n.29, 42 n.34, 46, 48, 64 n.81, 66, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 79, 84, 91, 92, 154–55, 158, 164 9:1 36 9:1 ff. 125 9:1–7 32, 35–36, 37–38, 39, 40 9:1–12 37 n.15 9:1–41 75 9:3a–5 36 n.14 9:4 38, 39, 142 9:4a 39 9:4b–5 39 9:4 f. 136 n.216 9:5 37 n.18, 39 9:6 36, 45 9:7 36, 39–40 9:8 36, 39–40 9:8–12 37, 41 9:8–41 36, 37–38, 39, 43 n.37 9:9 36 9:13 42 n.33 9:13–34 37 n.15, 41 n.29 9:13–17 37, 42 9:14 152

172 John (continued) 9:16 87, 92, 101, 152 9:16 f. 110 9:17 42 n.32, 117, 127 9:18 37 n.17 9:18–23 37, 42–43 9:22 6, 7 n.14, 14, 37 n.17, 43 n.37, 44, 46–47, 48, 51, 56, 57, 60, 61 n.71, 62 n., 64 n.81, 65, 92, 146m 147 n.6, 152, 155 9:22–23 43 n.37 9:24 43 n.35 9:24–34 37, 43–44 9:28 47, 101, 113–14, 157, 158 9:28 f. 98, 128 9:28 ff. 112 9:29 101 9:33 42 n.32 9:34 43 n.37, 44 n.41, 102 n.150, 128, 155 9:35 74, 134, 148 9:35 f. 74 9:35 ff. 128, 133, 134 9:35–37 42 n.32 9:35–38 37, 45 9:35–41 134 9:39 134, 141 9:39–41 37, 45 9:40 37 n.17 10 38, 75, 163, 165, 166 10:1–5 163 10:3 102 10:12 166 10:16 157, 163, 165 10:19 77 10:19 ff. 42 n.34 10:20 90 10:26 163 10:27 163

Index of Ancient Sources 10:28 f. 11:45 11:46 11:47 11:52 11:57 12:11 12:17–19 12:18 12:19 12:20 12:23 12:31 12:32 12:34 12:35 12:37 12:37 ff. 12:42

156 93 162 94 165, 166 n.52 75 71, 79, 94 79 93 71, 94 167 133, 135 88 n.125 135 133 39 94, 151 48 6, 7 n.14, 43 n.37, 45, 47, 48, 49, 51, 57, 65, 70 n.88, 77 n.101, 88, 113, 146, 155, 159, 162, 167 12:43 45 12:49 141 13:1 138 13:31 133 13:33 39, 41 n.27 14–16 28 14:2 140 14:12 38, 39, 135, 136, 142 14:15–17 137 14:17 141, 142 14:18 141 14:19 39, 142 14:20 142 14:23 140, 142 14:24 141 14:25 142 14:25–26 137 14:26 141 14:28 141 14:30 88 n.125 15 48

15:16 15:18 15:18 ff. 15:19 15:20 15:26 15:26–27 15:27 16:1 ff. 16:2

149 140, 141, 156 45, 167 149 140 141 137 141 48 6, 7 n.14, 8–9, 43 n.37, 45, 48, 51, 60 n.69, 61 n.71, 71, 75, 109 n.171, 140, 146 16:2a 66, 71, 72 16:2b 71, 72, 83 16:5–11 137 16:8 ff. 141 16:8–11 136 n.216 16:11 88 n.125 16:12–15 138 16:13 141 16:13 f. 142 16:14 143 16:16 39 16:27 141 17:3 92 17:5 138–39 17:11 f. 139 17:15 140 17:18 141 17:25 141 18:28–19:16a 38 18:31 76 n. 19 88 n.126 19:24 151 n.20 20:9 103 20:29 94 20:30 f. 93 20:31 128 n.193 21 163, 167 21:20 160 Acts 3 3:6

53 41 n.26

Index of Ancient Sources 3:16 41 n.26 3:17–26 104 4:3 84 n.116 4:10 41 n.26 4:18 41 n.26 4:30 41 n.26 5:18 84 n.116 6:15 129 n.196 7 129 n.196 7:35 ff. 104 7:55 129 n.196 9 53 9:1–2 53 9:14 86 n.120 12:1 84 n.116 13:45–50 53 n.58 14:2–6 53 n.58 14:19 53 n.58 17:5 ff. 53 n.58 17:13 53 n.58 18–19 56 18:5 55 18:5–8 56 18:6 f. 152 18:6–7 53 n.58 18:7 54 18:12–17 53 n.58 18:19 55 19:8 55 19:9 53 n.58, 54, 55 21:20 152 21:20 ff. 56 21:27 84 n.116 21:27 ff. 53 n.58 22:5 53 23 53 23:6 18 23:6 ff. 54 23:12 ff. 53 n.58 23:20 47 n.42 23:30 ff. 53 n.58 24 ff. 53 n.58 25:13–26:32 37 n.16 Romans 1:11

146

173 9:1 ff. 15:21

156 n.34 149

1 Corinthians 1:22 2 Corinthians 3:12–18 6:8 11:22 11:24

69:27

133

2 Enoch 61:2

139

97 n.147 Testament of Levi 16:3 81 n.110 40 n.24 79 160 54

Galatians 1:13 2:7 3:6–29

53 150 160

The Manual of Discipline (1QS) 9:10f. 105–6 4 Q Testimonia 106, 107 n.162 4 Q Psalms of Joshua 106 n.158

Philippians 3:5 3:6

18 53

The Zadokite Documents (CD) 6, 11

1 Thessalonians 2:3

79

RABBINIC WRITINGS

James 5:15

41 n.26

1 John 3:1

141

Revelation 4:1

130

APOCRYPHA, PSEUDEPIGRAPHA, DEAD SEA SCROLLS 1 Maccabees 1:11–15 63 n.77 4:46 105 14:41 105 Psalms of Solomon 17 17:40 1 Enoch 39:4 62

95 95

139 132, 135 n.214

113

MISHNA Berakoth 5, 3 65 n.82 9, 5 57 28b 43 n.38, 166 n.53 Megillah 4, 8 Sanhedrin 7, 10 7, 10–11 43a 107b TOSEFTA Hullin 2, 22

65

81 n.108 81 n.110 81–82, 82 n.113, 88 n.126 71 n.90, 80

41 n.28

BABYLONIAN TALMUD Berakoth 28 6, 7, 60 n.69, 61 n.71

174

Index of Ancient Sources

Berakoth (continued ) 28b 58, 59, 61 28b–29a 59, 64 Rosh Hashanah 31b Sanhedrin 67a

57

TANCHUMA ‘Ekeb 7

107

OTHER ANCIENT SOURCES Acts of Thomas 48 81 n.110

82, 82 n.113

Ascents of James 10, 152, 152 n.25

87 n.122

Clement of Alexandria (Eusebius H. E. vi, 14, 7) 27

Shabbath 56a Yoma 4a

102 n.151

JERUSALEM TALMUD Berakoth 8a 65, 166 Sanhedrin 25c 25d Shabbath 14d

82 82 41 n.28

MEKILTA ON EXODUS 16:15

122

QOHELETH RABBA 1, 8 90 n.129, 107, 108–9 SIFRE NUMBERS

50 n.50

PESIKTA RABBATI 36 (162a) 96 n.143

Clementine Recognitions 1,42.2 152 n.25 Egerton Papyrus 2 44 n.40 Epiphanius 39, 11

89 n.

Hegesippus (Eusebius H. E. ii, 23, 4 ff.) 77 n.101 (Eusebius H. E. ii, 23, 10) 77 n.101 (Eusebius H. E. iv, 18, 7) 61 n.71, 166 n.53 Josephus Antiq. XX, 97 XX, 167 f.

96 n.141, 98 96 n.141, 98

Bell. II, 259

96 n.141, 98

Vita 21

86 n.118

Justin Apology 61:4 f.

80 n.106

Dialogue with Trypho 16 7, 60 n.69, 61 n.71, 64 n.81, 71 n.89, 166 n.53 17 59 n.68, 61 n.71, 65 n.83, 166 n.53 38, 1 90 69 79, 80, 81 n.110 85 61 n.71 95 60 n.69, 61, n.71, 71 n.89 108 65 n.83, 79 n.105, 80 110 7, 60 n.69, 61 n.71, 64 n.81, 71 n.89 133 71 n.89 137 89 n. Philo Legat.

76 n.100

INDEX OF MODERN AUTHORS

Ashton, J., 19, 21

Dodd, C. H., 1, 2, 31 n.5, 159, 160

Barrett, C. K., 14, 61, 135, 164, 166 n.52 Bauer, W., 50, 51, 156 n.34 Becker, J., 151 Billerbeck, P., 51 Borgen, P., 121–22 Bornkamm, G., 136–37 n.217 Bousset, W., 128 n.193 Boyarin, D., 20 Brown, R. E., 12, 21, 31 n.5, 43 n.37, 128 n.193, 148 n.10, 164, 166 n.52 analysis of Johannine literature, 13 approach to Fourth Gospel different from Martyn’s, 13–14 on tensions in Jewish community, 13–14 Bultmann, R., 1, 19–20, 37 n.16, 151, 164 approach to Fourth Gospel, 2–3 interpreting John against gnostic background, 5 Johannine “too late,” 136 n.216 presence of Jews in Fourth Gospel, 3 reconstruction of Fourth Gospel, 3–4 n.7 source theory, 3–4 n.7, 10

Forkman, G., 7 n.14 Fortna, R. T., 9, 10, 151 link to synagogue controversy, 11 source-critical analysis, 10–11, 147 n.6 viewing Martyn’s thesis as congruent with his own, 11

Carroll, K. L., 7 n.14 Conway, C., 22 n.48 Culpepper, A., 16–17 Davey, F. N., 1 Davies, W. D., 11–12, 18 Dibelius, M., 147

Gardner-Smith, P., 31 n.5 Goodenough, E., 52 Haenchen, E., 29, 37 n.16, 150, 151 Hahn, F., 110 n.172 Hare, D. R. A., 64 n.81 Harnack, A., 88 n.127 Horbury, W., 8 n.17 Hoskyns, E. C., 1, 4, 5 Hummel, R., 86 n.118 Hunzinger, C.-H., 7 n.14 Jonas, H., 3 Käsemann, E., 3, 5, 122 n.188, 134 Katz, S., 8 n.17 Kimelman, R., 8 n.17 Klijn, A. F. J., 166 n.52 Kossen, H. B., 164 Kuhn, K. G., 47 n.44, 63 n.76 Kysar, R., 29 Lindars, B., 148 n.10, 164 Matsunaga, K., 76n.100

176 McGregor, G. H. C., 52 Meeks, W. A.., 7–8, 15, 60 n.69, 61 n.75, 102 n.149, 135, 156, 162 critique of Martyn and Fortna, 147 n.6 on Martyn and Davies, 12 n.26 treatment of Samaritan traditions about Moses, 106 n.161 Moloney, F. J., 22 Mowinckel, S., 96 n.144, 97 Neirynck, F., 31 n.5 Neyrey, J. S., 16 Nicol, W., 151 Noack, B., 37 n.18 Odeberg, H., 116

Index of Modern Authors Sanders, E. P., 17, 18 Schäfer, P., 8 n.17 Schlatter, A., 51, 82 n.113 Schnackenburg, R., 29, 92, 164, 166 n.52 Schoeps, H.-J., 164 Schulz, S., 128 n. 193 Schwartz, E., 159 Smith, D. M., 4 n., 15 n.30, 23, 151, 152 Smith, M., 8 n.17, 61 n.75 Smith, T. C., 7 n.14 Spitta, F., 42 n.33 Spivey, R. A., 15 n.30 Thompson, J. M., 32 n.6, 37 n.18 Thyen, H., 29 Tödt, H. E., 134

Painter, J., 15 n.30 Reim, G., 151 Reinhartz, A., 22 Rensburger, D., 16 Robinson, J. A. T., 62 n., 166 n.52 Ruckstuhl, E., 145 n.3 Sabbe, M., 31 n.5

van Hartingsveld, L., 166 n.52 van Unnik, W. C., 166 n.52 Vielhauer, Ph., 54, 97 Walter, N., 151 Wengst, K., 15 Wilson, S. G., 20 n.44 Windisch, H., 32 n.6

INDEX OF SUBJECTS

Wrede, W., 7 n.14

Alexandria, 76 n.100 altar, profaning of, 105 Am Ha’arets, 44 incompetent in midrash (exegesis), 112 Jesus considered as, 118 under a curse, 101, 102 Andrew, 150 Anti-Judaism and the Fourth Gospel (Louvain Conference, 2000), 22 Antiochus IV “Epiphanes,” 63 aposynagogoi/aposynagogos, 7 n.14, 9, 20, 47. See also synagogue, exclusion from ban (from the synagogue), in rabbinic literature, 50–52 baptists, early, 2–3 Barnabas, 53 n.58, 54 Beloved Disciple, equated with evangelist, 3 Benediction Against Heretics, 70. See also Birkath ha-Minim, Twelfth Benediction church-synagogue separation related to, 61 dating of, 61 Ben Stada, 82 Bet Din, 41 n.29, 86 biblical theology, 4 Birkath ha-Minim, 9, 14, 59, 60 n.69, 62 n.65, 146, 152, 166 n.53. See also Benediction Against Heretics changing inner-synagogue group to separate community, 155

178

Index of Subjects

doubts about linkage to synagogue expulsion, 22 introduced over wide area, 166 related to aposynagogoi, 7 n.14 timing, focus, and purpose of, 11 combined with midrashic attack, 158 blind man, healed by Jesus dramatic expansion of miracle story, 36–45 dual role of, 66 healing as reference to Jesus as Mosaic Prophet, 110 Buni, 88 n.126

tion of, 105 disciples, active vs. passive role of, 148–49 discipleship, choosing between Moses and Jesus, 44, 47 “disciples of Jesus,” 158 “disciples of John,” 158 “disciples of Moses,” 102, 103, 158–59 ditheism, 14, 155, 160 drama conflict of, ix, 8, 16, 73 miracle story expanded as, 37–45 two-level. See two-level drama

Calvin, John, 4 cherem, 51 “Christ” as name of redeemer, 92 Christian-Jewish relations, 9, 21 Christian Jews, 55, 62, 63, 150, 154, 160–63, 167 ban applied to, 56, 58, 60 becoming community of Jewish Christians, 70, 157 emergence of inner-synagogue group, 114 identifying Jesus as Prophet, 114 Moses vs. Jesus decision, 158–59 Christian missioners preaching about Messiah, 69 Christ-vs.-Moses motif, 37, 47, 66 church, sect subject to Jewish law, 53, 54 church-synagogue conversations, 125 church-synagogue separation, related to Jewish Benediction Against Heretics, 56–66 Clement of Alexandria, 4 crucifixion, indicator of the gospel’s offensive character, 151, 153

Eighteen Benedictions, standardization of, 58–59 einmalig tradition, 40 election, dualism of, 117–19 Elijah, 110 n.172 Elijah/Elisha cycles, 150 eschatological hope, Moses as type of coming redeemer, 104–8 Eucharist celebration outside synagogue, 70 “Ignatian” understanding of, 139 n.219 link to predestination, 119–20 reaction to, 70, n.88

Daniel, Son of Man’s portrayal in, 131–33 Davidic Messiah, 110–11 death penalty for leading people astray into ditheism, 71, 75–76 Deuteronomy, eschatological interpreta-

Farewell Discourses, 38, 48, 138, 139, 142 Father, ascension to, 133, 135–36, 139 form criticism, 6, 35 n.8 Fourth Gospel. See also John, Gospel of beginning as separate homilies, 147 comparable to an archaeological tell, 145 drawing on tradition, 30–31 Justin perhaps dependent on, 79–80 literary history of, 145–46 purpose of, 13 set against Jewish background, 6–8 source-critical analysis of, 10–11 synagogue as original setting for, 9 theological geography in, 76 n.100, 156–57 written for Johannine community, 146

Index of Subjects Gamaliel II, 6, 22, 58, 59 n.68, 60, 61–63, 65, 70 Gentile mission, 153, 156 n.34, 164, 166 n.52, 167 according to Acts result of God’s will and Jewish rejection, 55 not addressed as issue in Fourth Gospel, 69 n.86 Gerousia, 42, 44 n.51, 65, 74–75, 75–76 n.99, 86, 87–88 meeting of as drama, 84 secret believers among, 88 gnosticism, 3 Good Shepherd, 163, 164, 166 gospel, offensiveness of, 151 gospel of the circumcision, 150 Gospels, related to post-Jamnian influence, 11–12 Gospel of Signs, 10, 13 Irenaeus, 4 Isaiah, speaking of Jesus, 48 Jamnia academy, 6, 7, 21, 58, 60–61 claims to authority resented, 166 n.53 emergence of linked to Gospel of Matthew, 11 response to Jesus seen as Mosaic Prophet-Messiah, 111–12 Jesus ascension to the Father, 139 beguiler, 80 belief in as Messiah considered apostasy, 70. See also ditheism confession of as violation of monotheism, 155 conflict with the Pharisees overplayed, 17 continuation of works after earthly life, 38–39, 40 divine claims by, 74, 77. See also ditheism doubling with Christian witnesses in Johannine community, 124–25

179 eschatological perspective of, 2 expected Jewish Messiah, 98, 153 hostility of Jews towards, 6–7 “I am” declarations, 39, 124 leading people astray, 77–83 light of the world, 36 n.14, 39, 40 magician, 79, 80 messiahship as important technical issue, 92, 94 Mosaic Prophet-Messiah, 108–14, 125–28, 129, 149–50 passion story, 72 performing all Mosaic signs, 108–11 popularity of, 85 presence in miracle stories, 36 n.12 promise of return to disciples, 140–42 proper interpretation of signs, 98 relation to Moses, 98, 101 relation to Paraclete, 137–38 as Son of Man, 126–30, 134 statements about self, 21 subject to Jewish law, 73–74 “that deceiver,” 79–80 threats against, 71–72, 74, 76–77 various terms for title of, 91 word of given priority, 161 Jesus-Moses, dual allegiance to, 66 Jewish Christianity, 167 Jewish Christians, arrests of, 84 n.116 Jewish dispersion reinterpreted, 166 Jews affirmations about Moses, 101–3 and Christians today, 9 Christian. See Christian Jews Martyn’s identification as real people, 19–20 symbolizing rejection of Jesus, 3 Johanan ben Zakkai, 58 Johannine “too late,” 136 n.216 Johannine church. See also Johannine community coming to via exclusion from synagogue, 48 conversation with synagogue, foci of,

180 101 distinct from Lucan church, 41 n.26 relationship with neighboring Jewish community, 69–72, 90–91, 98, 125 Johannine community. See also Johannine church as “sheep,” 163 conscious of Jesus’ power and presence, 41 n.26 differentiated from Christian Jews in other locals, 167 differentiated from parent synagogue, 166–67 forming own theology and identity, 157 Fourth Gospel written for, 146 knowledge of Gentile mission, 153 social and theological configuration, 166–67 Johannine conflict, levels of, 18–19 Johannine interpretation, dominant modes of, 1–2 John, Epistles of, 1, 3, 13, 28–29, 122 n.188, 167 John, Gospel of. See also Fourth Gospel accuracy of affirmations about Moses, 102–3 apostolic authorship, 2 as essence of catholic Christianity, 4 as two-level drama, 23, 40 n.22, 42 n.33, 46, 72 n.92, 85, 86–89, 124, 130–31, 142 audience for, 2 authorship questions, 3 beginnings of, 150–51 John, Gospel of (continued ) character portrayal in attempted arrest of Jesus, 85–89 chronological sequence in, 90 n.128 compared to Gospel of Matthew, 12, 115 compared to Synoptic Gospels, 31–32 creation of literary genre within, 32 discourses in, 27, 31 earthiness of, 27–28

Index of Subjects editions of, 157 editorial activity in, 3, 13, 119 n.185, 148 emphasis on Christ as God’s word, 5 gnosticism connection to, 3 Hellenistic background, 2 included in canon by human error and providence of God, 5 independence of, 31 Jesus’ miracles as signs in, 10 Judaism, arguments regarding relation to, 28 literary-critical perspective, 17 literary structure, 72 only gospel where Jesus performs all Mosaic signs, 108–9 Pharisees’ portrayal in, 18 selective reading of, 28 source theory, 3–4 n7 theory regarding stages of literary development, 13, 145 transition patterns in dialogue, 117–18 John the Baptist, 2–3, 114, 148, 150 Joseph of Arimathea, 88 Josephus, connection of signs and “prophet,” 96 n.141, 98 Justin Martyr, 79–80, 115 leading astray, 77–83 logos hymn, 156 Luther, Martin, 28 Mandaeism, 3 Mark, Gospel of, Messianic Secret in, 130 n.197 Matthew, Gospel of Christian response to Jamnia, 11 linked to emergence of Jamnian Academy, 11 compared to Gospel of John, 12, 115 Messiah and miracles, 94–98 relation to Moses, 103–4 stranger from above, 156 messianic question taken to be midrashic

Index of Subjects in nature, 117–19 midrash (exegesis), limits of, 123 Minim, 20, 59 miracle stories, 35–36, 72 components of, 72–73 linkage to eschatological figure, 97–98 expanded as drama, 37–45 modern relations between Jews and Christians, 9 Mosaic Prophet-Messiah, 125–28 movement to Son of Man, 128–29 Qumran sect’s “Teacher of Righteousness” related to, 113 n.176 Moses acts of as typological prophecies of Jesus, 125 affirmations about, 101–3 disciples of, 158–59 contrasted with God, 122 linked to Son of Man, 103, 115, 116, 126, 129, 133 manna miracle, of, 110 relation to Messiah, 103–4 water miracle of, 110 wrote about Jesus, 103 Moses-Messiah typology, 106–8 distrust of, 109, 117–19 movement from Mosaic Messiah to Son of Man, 128–31 Nakdimon ben Gorion, 88 n.126 Nathanael, 150 New World Symphony (Dvor˙ák), 30–31 Nicodemus, 85, 88, 89, 112, 113, 117, 130 niddui, 51 notzrim, 20 Paraclete as creator of two-level drama, 140 continuing Jesus’ work, 140–42 John’s interpretation of, 136–38 origin of figure, 137 n. passion story, 72 Paul

181 identifying self as Pharisee, 54 persecution by non-Christian Jews, 53–54 persecutor of the church, 53 withdrawing from synagogue, 54–56 Peter, 150 Pharisees enacting exclusion from synagogue, 49 dominant members of the Gerousia, 88 term used in portrayal of Sanhedrin, 86, 87–88 Philip, 150 Philo, 91 police officers, portrayal in attempted arrest of Jesus, 86–87 Priestly Messiah, 106 Prophet, distinct from Messiah, 106, 108, 111 Prophet like Moses, 105–6, 108 Pseudo-Clementine literature, 10, 20, 83 n.114 rulers, portrayal in attempted arrest of Jesus, 87–89 Sabbath, violation of, 73–74 Samaritans, 106 Samuel the Small, 6, 59, 61, 63 Sanhedrin, 78–79 conforming to authority of, 53 portrayal in attempted arrest of Jesus, 86 secret believers, 88, 112–14, 162 Secret Gospel of Mark, 117 n.181 “sheep” as Johannine Community, 163–67 Signs Gospel, 115, 120, 150–51, 153 as christological essay, 154 “disciples” in, 158 signs expected of Mosaic-Prophet Messiah, 108 variety of reactions to, 109–14 witness to Jesus as Messiah, 93–94

182 Son of David, 94 Son of Man ascent to the Father, 133, 135–36, 143 features of, 131–36 linked to Old Testament figures, 133 presence on earth,

Index of Subjects 135–36, 138 Star of Jacob, 106 synagogue Christian disciples separating from, 55–56 conflict with church, 3 divided opinion among members, 41 n.25

exclusion from, 43, 45, 60, 63, 70–71, 75, 89–91, 155. See also aposynagogoi/aposynagogos formation of messianic group within, 69–70, 150–57

Commentary Series Matthew. by c. clifton black, princeton theological seminary Mark. by donald h. juel, princeton theological seminary Luke. by john t. carroll, union theological seminary / psce, virginia John. by marianne meye thompson, fuller theological seminary Acts. by carl r. holladay, candler school of theology, emory university Romans. by beverly roberts gaventa, princeton theological seminary I Corinthians. by alexandra r. brown, washington & lee university II Corinthians. by frank j. matera, the catholic university of america Galatians. by martinus c. de boer, free university of amsterdam Ephesians. by stephen e. fowl, loyola college Philippians and Philemon. by charles b. cousar, columbia theological semi-

nary Colossians. by jerry l. sumney, lexington theological seminary I & II Thessalonians. by e. elizabeth johnson, columbia theological seminary I & II Timothy and Titus. by raymond f. collins, the catholic university of america Hebrews. by luke timothy johnson, candler school of theology, emory university James. by joel b. green, asbury theological seminary I & II Peter and Jude. by lewis r. donelson, austin presbyterian theological seminary I, II, & III John. by judith m. lieu, king’s college, london Revelation. by brian k. blount, princeton theological seminary

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